

By

Jacquelynn Gagne

This literary work is legally owned in full by author Jacquelynn Gagne

and therefor protected by public law.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permissions of the author.

Print: ISBN-13:

978-1514335383

Published by Unhindered Arts

Written by Jacquelynn Gagne

Edited by Jacquelynn Gagne

Photography &Artistic Illustrations by Jacquelynn Gagne of Unhindered Arts and Kristy Charbonneau of www.covermecreative.com

Cover design by Jacquelynn Gagne of Unhindered Arts

First year publication 2013

Third edition material

© 2015 Jacquelynn Gagne

All rights reserved.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, and business establishments are entirely coincidental and protected by fair use act and are integral to the story.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
Contents

Chapter 1 "Sweet Sleep"

Chapter 2 – "Birthday Wishes"

Chapter 3 – "Armed & Dangerous"

Chapter 4 – "Time"

Chapter 5 – "Churning Waters"

Chapter 6 – "Wake To A New World"

Chapter 7 – "Rain"

Chapter 8 – "Fate Lingers"

Chapter 9 – "Love The Way You Lie"

Chapter 10 – "The Dead Don't Sleep"

Chapter 11 – "Serving Of Sanity"

Chapter 12 – "And So The World Is Flat"

Chapter 13 – "Omens"

Chapter 14 – "Spell Bound"

Chapter 15 – "Dream Scape"

Chapter 16 – "Impossible Possibilities"

Chapter 17 – "From Yin To Yang"

Chapter 18 – "Death Tolls"

Chapter 19 – "Death Becomes Her"

Chapter 20 – "New Life"

Chapter 21 – "Once Upon A Time"

The Author

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Death doesn't always want our eternal sleep. Sometimes, Death just wants our eternity.

The sky was painted midnight with no moon. Unreal with wisps of clouds whispered across the horizon, bright with stars. On the edge of a cliff, I stood in a dense eerie fog that blanketed the ground with my back to a thick wall of lush woods. Trees, draped in willowy vines, held leaves too large for their delicate branches. Palms entangled by ivy so rich and dark, it hinted blue as it crept from the jungle forestry all the way down the cliff to the jagged rocks below. Black water sprayed white froth with every billowing wave against the glistening rocks amongst the break of the surf. The waves sprang up, reaching to grab me from the towering cliff. Trembling, I stood. My body throbbed in pain. Looking down, I saw the blood that covered my hands, and feet. A ghastly scream startled me as it echoed across the seascape for only a moment before it was abruptly cut short. Seconds passed before I heard rustling from behind. Something running for me, Death was coming for me. My chest ached from the strain of my racing heart. Stepping closer to the edge, I turned to look into the trees. Straining to see what was out there in the night. Another step and I fell from the edge of the cliff to the awaiting rocks, and dark water below. There was no scream. I had jumped to my salvation.

My body jerked awake violently the moment I hit the water, the moment my mind took realization to the agony of death. Every dream, every night, nightmare after nightmare, I remember vividly. Magic spinning into a world of death, and pain. Oh yes, even magic can be quite frightening. They're complicated. Just dreams though. Right?

Throughout my life I've never slept much because to sleep means to dream. Some people say if you die in your dreams then you die in real life. If that's true then I must be a ghost.

The dreams were more than just vivid. They were real to me or her, whoever she is. As if I was living in two different worlds leading two entirely different lives each day, and every night.

When I was a child she was a child. As I grew she grew. Our worlds were nothing alike. Her world was one of beauty, filled with vibrant colors more exotic than a Brazilian rainforest. There were even fairies.

The entire place was pure magic in its most beautiful form. Although, for every wonderful thing in this world- and other worlds, too, I suppose, there are things just as horrible to counter the beauty. They call this the balance of life. Yin and yang, light and dark, good and bad so to speak. To me it's just Hell.

Upon waking, I laid there staring at the glowing green numbers from the clock, counting to myself. Soft as a whisper, I counted the seconds from the time the clock read four-o' one a.m. to four-thirteen a.m. Letting out a long disappointed sigh, and squeezing my eyes shut, I knew the last I looked at that clock was just three hours before. For the millionth time, I wondered how many seconds does it take to make the pain of death go away? Even though it wasn't I who had died, they did. That was always just as painful if not more so.

For the last many years, I have been forced to watch and suffer the death of her people. It is our curse. Each and every one of the torturous, and the horrifying deaths alike. Some were worse than others. The so called lucky ones managed to end their suffering on their own terms. Most did not.

Each death I was bound to watch through their eyes. Destined to feel their pain. No matter how she tried to fight. No matter how she tried to save them. She was cursed to watch and to feel every bit of their pain- mental and physical. By some strange twist of destiny I am bound to this same fate for I am bound to her. We're helpless from saving them. Old mothers, young children, entire families, it didn't matter. None were spared.

Despite the moderately warm humid weather of late May the sheets were cool from the draft coming in through the open window. It was ghostly the way the sheer plain white curtains bellowed from the breeze. Ghostly, yet beautiful in its silent dance.

The only sound to be heard was a low howl of wind. No birds or owls. Nothing. Not even a stray dog barking, or the sound of traffic, nor people from the city streets below. The night was holding its breath just before the break of dawn.

Stiff and slow, I pulled my legs out from the sheets, letting my feet touch to the cold, scarred wooden floor. Fresh scratches, paired with smears of blood, and dirt stung my legs horribly. It looked as if I had been running barefoot through the woods.

This was a physical reminder of my dream. This, too, happened every night or something similar to it anyway. Cuts, mud or dirt sometimes, though always blood.

It's okay. Even the cuts healed within a few hours. They vanished as if they were no more real than the dreams. Impossible, right? You would think so.

Moving over to the open window, I leaned out into the dank night air to see the quiet city. The place was Vermont, in a town called Burlington. Burlington is the largest city in the state of Vermont, and the shire town, Chittenden County. It had been my home since birth. With my luck, I would die there, too.

My hometown also happens to be the birthplace of Ben & Jerry's, which was sounding like a promising breakfast option as I looked out the window at one of their infamous ice cream shops. Aggravated because my sweet tooth would have to wait, I let out a heavy sigh. They didn't open until eleven. Everything should be twenty-four hours in my opinion. After all, I am. "Damn it."

Burlington's a big city, but the people refuse to acknowledge that. Most of the traffic is on the sidewalks or out by the docks. For example, I had a license, however I'd never owned a car.

Vermont is also well known for the rain. Fortunately, I've always loved the rain. It was clear that night, although from the humidity I could tell it would be raining by noon. After a few moments of window gazing it was time to move on, and start the morning as usual.

Walking over to the white fifties model refrigerator, I opened it up to get my so-called breakfast. Squinting from the sudden blaring light from the refrigerator, I groaned in annoyance.

There's nothing more inside but six bottles of Fiji water on the bottom shelf, fifteen cans of Red Bull on the top shelf, and one mostly empty container of old Chinese. I grabbed it up, opened, sniffed, chucked it in the trash.

Snagging a Red Bull off the top shelf, I used my foot to shut the heavy door as I turned away. Living alone, as well as working in a restaurant meant that I didn't have much need to stock up on groceries. When I did, it was usually my friends that ate them anyway. So why bother?

Rarely did I keep lights on in my house. They gave me headaches. The dark was normal for me. I liked it. Probably more than most people do, or should for that matter.

Still groggy, my eyes began playing tricks on my fuzzy mind. The dancing shadows on the walls cast from the dull light of the open window nearly looked human. Rubbing my eyes, I looked again but the image was gone. I was left with only a disturbing chill in the room, and the strangest feeling of being utterly alone. "Of course I'm alone. No one else lives here." Whilst shaking my head, I rolled my eyes, feeling ridiculous.

"Music. I need music," mumbling to myself as I often tend to do, I quickly moved to turn the radio on as my phone rang. Scowling at the ringing intruder, I abandoned the radio to answer the phone. Red Bull still in hand, I cringed upon seeing the name on the screen of the cell phone. Paul. I had promised to go see him at work that night. He'd started a new job. Crap. "I know, I forgot. I'm sorry!" It shouldn't have been a surprise really. No one else would have called me this early. Most people were asleep after all. Then again, there were only a small handful of people that ever called me anyway.

Paul Davis was a close friend of mine. Or maybe a more accurate description is that Paul was one of those people you meet which never go away so they become permanently embedded into your life. Everyone has at least one. They grow on you. We had known each other since we were kids.

Over a year ago, we had dated for a period of three months before we decided that was a silly idea to start with, or I did rather. There was nothing romantic there. At least not in my opinion. There were a few people that didn't agree of course. Paul was one of them unfortunately, but we had remained friends.

"It's all right. I didn't expect you to show anyway. What're you doin'?" That night Paul had started a job at a local nightclub. It's true that I hated bars, however, I hadn't blown him off. That frustrating subconscious had just conveniently forgotten.

Yawning heavily as I rubbed my eyes, my mind supplied the appropriate response, "Did you have fun at work?"

"I can make all sorts of drinks with dirty names now." I could practically hear the perverted grin even through the phone. "You know, since you bailed on me, now you gotta come eat breakfast." Ah, a ploy. My eyes narrowed.

He won. I sighed. "It's gonna take a lot more than you to get me outta the house this early. Just come over." It was a personal goal of mine to not leave the house before ten. He knew this.

"All right, all right. I'll see ya in a bit. I'm bringing food." He sighed exaggeratedly with a blend of expected disappointment, and mild agitation. With nothing more said, we both hung up.

The crisp sound of opening the Red Bull made me smile. Pausing, I let myself take a moment to breathe in the sweet yet tart smell before taking a long drink. "Time to get dressed then." Yes, I talk to myself a lot. Heh. Just be glad you're not really in my head. That can get a little twisted.

On the way to the closet, my reflection caught in the full length mirror that was poorly tacked to the wall near the bed. It had been left there by the previous tenants. The mirror was miraculously held on to the brick and mortar wall with bent nails. It bore a raw edge that I had cut myself on more than once. Being accident prone, sharp glass in my proximity should really have a frame or something. Paul said he would fix it. I wouldn't let him for a complicated world of different reasons.

The girl staring back at me was nineteen years old, standing at five-foot-four. She was thin with very pale skin the sun didn't faze with more than a burn now and then, with a slew of freckles across her shoulders and arms alone. Not a monster by any means. Just plain. The cuts were gone already. Good. No one needed to see those. Even the smudges of dirt had all but worn off from moving about my loft.

Neither too thin nor curvy, I had clear skin, but my complexion had always been dull and lifeless. Nose and lips were all very average. Eyes of stone grey had no real color at all aside the blue and purple circles under them from a lifetime of ill sleep. That's what they invented makeup for I figured.

My hand ran up from my grey underwear clad hips to pull up my dove white tank, exposing the thorn vines of black roses, and the dragonfly tattoo covering the left side of my ribs from hip bone to breast. I'd been thinking of adding to it or getting another. Decisions, decisions. For me, tattoos are more than just a piece of art work. They are an expression of yourself, a visual extension of your soul.

While caught in a trance by the ghostly reflection, a sudden gust of wind ripped through the room that chilled me to the bone. It sent a shiver up my spine that made the hair on my arms raise and tingle, giving me goose bumps from head to toe.

Panic stricken nerves held me in place for countless seconds. I held my breath as if anticipating something horrible to come. After a long moment something seemed to click inside of me. Like a spell breaking, I was able to move again. I checked the window to find the chilling breeze from the moment before was gone.

Despite the early hour, the air was actually quite warm. The breeze brought up the scent of the city. Wet brick and concrete. Moist soil and fresh cut grass from someone mowing the day before. The smell of the ocean and docks from a few miles away drifted faint on the wind. Salt water and fresh fish. I loved those smells. It was home.

Humidity from the fog bellow clung to my skin as my head hung out the window. My eyes closed as I instantly dismissed the squirming discomfort in my stomach to let a peaceful moment completely absorb me.

What a mistake.

While enjoying the quiet warmth of the night, the stereo came to life blaring Nickelback's "I'd Come For You" at the highest volume setting. Shrieking, I jumped in shock. The panic ripping through me felt like my skin had tried to leave before the rest of my body could catch up. My head slammed up into the window. Hitting hard enough the window rattled the sill. A flush of heat filled my skull, and left my head pounding like a jackhammer. "Owe! Son of a-!" the increasing shock of pain stole the curse right out of my lips.

A can of Red Bull lay on the floor at my feet now forgotten, glugging out the contents onto the old wooden floor as it rolled back and forth idly. Eyes watering from the sudden stinging pain, I wiped the tears away as they splashed down my cheeks. Spinning around, staggering away from the window over to the bed, I went for the only weapon in the house.

It wasn't me that turned it on. Had to be someone though, right?

In the corner between the bed, and the nightstand was an old Louisville Slugger my brother had given me from his glory days in high school. Grabbing it up, I looked more like a drunk with a misshapen cane than a pro ball player. Holding my head with the other hand as it pounded internally to the music, my hair felt wet. I was bleeding. Terrific.

The stereo was blasting louder than I remembered having it set to. Or maybe it was the mild concussion making my ears ring with sensitivity. Luckily, having no surrounding neighbors, there was no one to disturb. The loft was above an empty storefront. It had been empty for a couple of months. Rent is high downtown for store front lots. I was lucky.

Clumsy I may have been, but inept I was not. If there was someone in my house, I was not the type to willingly go down without a fight. Speaking of going down however, just at that moment I slipped through the spilled Red Bull. Landing on my rear, a wave of pain shot up through my tailbone. Mumbling some of my favorite curses, I crawled back to my feet, using the bat to help me stand. It was humiliating even being alone. Was I alone? Would an intruder be laughing if there was one? Seemed like a probability. I know I sure would've been if the tables had been turned.

After picking myself up off the floor, I saw my doorknob twisting back and forth forcefully. What I had forgotten though was Paul was on his way over, and he also had a key. The door had gone still as I crept up to it along the wall. Just as I came up on the door, it swung open. The bat came up over my head, and in multiple short swings I clobbered the door as well as the assumed intruder. Twice I swung back so hard I hit myself, too.

Obviously, I didn't play sports for a reason. Can you imagine what would have happened if someone had given me a real weapon?

"Son of a bitch, Anna! What the hell is wrong with you?" Paul yelled over the music, holding a defensive arm up over his face. Good question, however a better one would have been, 'what isn't wrong with you?'

Paul ripped the bat from my hands, before he tossed it across the room. It bounced twice on my unmade bed. Shocked, and guilt ridden, I paused to punch him hard in the shoulder before I threw my arms around his neck. Locked in a state of contradiction, I wanted to beat the crap out of him for scaring me, yet hug him because I was glad it was Paul, and not someone else.

Grumbling, he wrapped a free arm around my waist. Paul was a sturdy guy. Stout, too, fortunately. He stumbled back as I threw him off balance. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you! I thought someone was trying to break in," my voice trembled sheepishly as the words, raspy with panic, trailed off with the sound of the music.

Paul rumbled a hard laugh at my expense. "I'm fine. Don't worry, you're no all-star," his voice was not so much amused, but irritated at my idiocy, as indicated by his mocking back tone.

Paul stood roughly five seven with a face like a boxer. The dog more than the kind of fighter. His jaw was heavy on the masculinity, and square cut. Close to his face was his boxy nose, broken more than once. His brown eyes were tight and deep set as if he were always heavily burdened mentally. Although he'd never admit to it, his height gave him a complex. To make up for it he was a fanatic about going to the gym four times a week to hit the weights. He ran there and back. It paid off.

The downside of this, he was also a bit too into himself not to mention deep in the belief of his own indestructibility. He kept his thick curly hair military short because he hated it. Though not a GQ dresser, he was compulsive about his clothes as well. He once dumped a girl for stepping on his shoe, and scuffing it. His defense was she refused to apologize.

Staggering further into the room, Paul dragged me along, stumbling with him. Once stable, he released me as his free hand patted against my head lightly (which hurt like hell) as he pushed a brown sack into my arms. Paul never seemed to have noticed the fact that I had punched him even though my knuckles felt it still.

Reaching behind him, he fumbled along the wall for the lights. When they flickered on, he saw the blood on his hand. His face churned in a sickened sneer. Paul hated the sight of blood. "Why are you bleeding? What did you do this time? God, Lianna, turn that shit down!" His agitation grew more intense by the second.

"I hit my head on the window." With red cheeks, and bloodshot eyes ready to brim over with tears, I walked over to the stereo. Shaking fingers hit the power button. Just to be on the safe side, I also unplugged it. To myself, I muttered quietly, "No one's coming for me." The one sentence motivational speech to reassure me actually did the opposite. Strangely my mood tanked quickly into depression. Fortunately, I'm not one for self-pity. I hid the dip well.

Lifting a hand to the back of my head, I felt my blood soaked hair again. Why do head injuries have to bleed so much?

"If you ever had a light on or turned down that music maybe you wouldn't get hurt so much. Well, okay you'd still manage to get hurt a lot, and don't you dare call me grandpa. It's been a long night." My brow rose as he rambled on. He did seem rather cranky. "You okay?" his tone softened once he realized how much of an ass he was being.

"It's nothing. Like you said, just a long night." My face tightened with bitterness. Paul was used to my scowl. It didn't faze him at all. I walked the sack into the kitchen, plopping it onto the counter.

"Sounds like a long morning for you. Was it the dreams again?" Paul asked with a sigh. Shrugging my shoulders was my only response. Why did he bother asking? With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. The dreams were not what bothered me really, just my paranoia. Paul knew that I suffered from chronic nightmares. He did not know what they were about, or what they did to me physically.

Paul looked me over again with a raised brow. A slow evil grin spread over his thin lips. "I know you were excited to see me, but did you miss your trip to the bathroom this morning, too?"

He may have been laughing, but I sure wasn't. Not only having not been able to get dressed before he barged in, my bottom half was soaked in Red Bull. "Damn it. I fell you jerk!" I chucked a plastic spoon at him from the bag. "I dropped my Red Bull when I hit my head on the window, and I slipped in it." Indeed, I was humiliated- and pissed.

Paul laughed again, catching my bad throw midair. He sure wasn't helping matters. Walking over to me, he leaned to kiss my forehead before walking off for the bathroom. After washing the blood off his hands a towel was chucked in my direction as he walked over to the window to mop up the sticky mess with another towel. "Thanks," mumbling as I caught the towel, I dried my bare legs, and scrubbed the rest of the dirt from them as well.

Twisting around, I hopped up onto the countertop with a wince caused from the bruise forming on my tailbone. Once I got comfortable I held the towel against my head. After a minute of holding pressure on my head, I dropped the bloody, Red Bull soaked cloth in the sink. As carefully as possible, I maneuvered into a cross-legged position on the countertop.

When Paul was done, he tossed the rag in the sink on top of mine though not before he saw the blood, grimacing at the sight. "Are you sure you're okay? I can drive you to your father's or to the hospital if you want." The empty can was tossed into the trashcan like a basketball. Swoosh! Two points!

Reflexively, I shuddered at the thought. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not starting the day with a trip to the hospital. I'll be fine." Paul was standing at the open fridge. He reached for two Red Bulls, tossing one to me.

"Uh huh. Well anyway, I got us some breakfast." He popped the can open downing half of his in one gulp while I just stared at mine.

My brow wrinkled curiously. "How'd you get over here so quickly?" While looking over at the food on the counter, I opened the can.

"Eh, I already had the food. 'Sides, you gotta eat something other than bad Chinese and Riads once in a while." Paul smiled, winking at me.

Reaching into the sack, he handed me a Styrofoam box filled to the brim with fruit. He really knew me too well. It shouldn't have bothered me so much. Paul pulled out biscuits and gravy for himself. Thanks to me, he was already armed with a spoon.

Grabbing up a stool, he plopped down next to me. We ate in silence- a blessing for my head was still pounding. When we were done, he cleaned up the trash for me. I gave a groan, holding my hands over my stomach, hanging my head down. "What's wrong with you?"

"Um... Headache," I grumbled tightening my arms around myself protectively.

"Not what I meant, but whatever. I swear I don't know how you get into some of the situations you do. You're hardly even human because of how accident prone you are."

That struck a chord. Remaining silent, still upset over what had gone on before he showed up, I pondered explaining more thoroughly. Though if I had told him what all had happened he probably would have called his brother, gotten him out of bed, and over here.

Paul's brother's name was Richard. Richard Davis was a cop in Burlington. He was quite a bit older than Paul. Still single though which was too bad. He was a good guy. Richard was one of the many people that constantly tried to push Paul and me into dating again. Had since we were five, I think.

So as nice as he was I liked avoiding that topic, which so often came up, at all costs. His family was thrilled when we first decided to try it. When it ended, they acted as if they were in mourning for someone who had died. Sneering at the thought, my decision became final. Stay quiet.

"Well I should get home, and get some sleep. You work tonight?" I shook my head no with my gaze still on his feet. The day was not promising from the start. I felt drained, and ready to climb back into bed. Yet he just kept on talking. "Well since tomorrow's your birthday, I wanna do something with you. 'Sides Shannon wants us all to go to Penny's tomorrow night, don't forget."

While groaning my complaint, my eyes rolled at the thought. Penny's is a café. The full name is Penny Cluse Café. Pretty much everyone in town could be found there at some point in the week. Some even go on a daily basis. Don't get me wrong it was a great place. I just never liked being forced into social situations where I was the one in focus.

You see, at age nineteen I was the exact opposite of most anyone else around that age. I hated to party, and I'd never had a real drink. It just wasn't worth the puking or the hangover. This is Vermont; very few of us even smoke cigarettes. I don't do drugs. I'm screwed up enough without them. It's not that I mind crowds- I just suck at the social scene. Thus my reasoning for going to an online college versus a campus in the mecha of college towns that was Burlington.

Shannon Miller was his actual girlfriend. She was a sweet girl. We had met through a study group when she had moved to Vermont about five years ago. I introduced them. Shannon looked like a trendy, new age hippy type, with hair like that chick from the film Pulp Fiction. Mia Wallace black hair, devil red lipstick with hemp purses, hippy skirts, and toe rings. Strange girl though sweet as could be. Always so full of life.

Then again, who am I to call anyone else strange?

Bizarre fact: She's adamant that she's never seen the movie Pulp Fiction. A lie or not it was hard to tell with her. I was voting for the lie myself. Oh come on, I'm not that cynical. Everyone lies.

"Don't bother arguing. I also figured you could use a more relaxed night. So since you're not working, you can put the books down, and come over for dinner. We'll rent some movies. Maybe get a pizza or something. Just the two of us, like we used to do." He seemed thrilled over the idea to my absolute dismay.

Nodding obediently, I chose to remain silent. It would save not only time but personal duress to just agree with my friend's plans. Paul grinned ear to ear. "Okay. I'll see you about six. Night, Anna," that said, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek as he walked to the door. Double-checking the lock on his way out, he locked it behind him.

Once Paul shut the door, I slid off the counter, and walked to the window, waiting for him to leave. As soon as he was gone, I turned on every light in the apartment before shoving the chair against the locked front door. It was quite a task moving the mammoth old chair across the room. When that was done, I checked the window, and contemplated locking it, too. Why bother? I live on the third floor, I told myself.

With the lights on, I climbed back into bed with the bat pulled tight against me. Burying my head under the mound of pillows, I prepared to let the nightmares take me away. Yeah, Red Bull doesn't really give you wings if you drink it all the time.

Dinner at Paul's was uneventful. Paul had all six of the "Star Wars" movies on top of his DVD player. The first disc was already in, waiting for him to push play. We ate pizza as we made it through the first two movies, and were half through the third when Paul fell asleep. I snuck out, leaving for home.

The day of my birthday was nicer to look back on than how I enjoyed it at the time. Being around other people socially, especially large crowds, has always made me uncomfortable. We had the back section of the cafe crammed with as much furniture as we could cluster together. There were quite a few people to my surprise. Most of whom I barely knew or barely wanted to know.

Mia, I mean Shannon, was bubbly with delight. All of her poetry-slam buddies showed up. Along with them, a few other people that I had a study group with here locally showed, too.

Paul brought his brother, Richard, and Lily, his stepsister. Lily was fourteen, and the coolest kid I think I'd ever met. That day I talked to her more than anyone else. Most the time she claimed me more than Paul as a sibling. Simply because he's still titled number one butthead in her eyes. Lily is brilliant. Literally. She's about to graduate high school and has already published a book. It's surprisingly good. I read it for her before she published. The surprising thing is this brilliant little egghead is as spunky as they come. Blonde hair, blue eyes, at four-foot-nine her favorite colors are hot pink, neon orange and black. The kid is just cool.

Among the crowd were two people from work. They both received appropriate glares to keep their mouths shut. News of my birthday was not to be shared at work.

There was lots of talking and laughing while I mostly smiled, biding my time until I could go home. I got some nice thoughtful gifts as well as some gag gifts, too, including a squirt gun to replace the ball bat Paul claimed. Oh yes, he made sure to tell that story in well exaggerated detail. Lily got me a book. It was the new Dan Brown. I was thrilled with the book. Not so thrilled that it was Paul who had really bought it. I felt like I owed him too much sometimes. He was always doing stuff for me.

By the end of the night, I was more than grateful when it was over. Life could return to normal once more. I hated my birthday. Why? Not telling. Something was missing, huh? Yeah, a little bit.

Finally, I was on my way to work the next day. Nobody really pushed birthday stuff on me there. In fact I was fairly certain no one knew it had been my birthday. Aside from three people anyway.

My boss, Mike Ramono, kept it simple with a birthday card and a gift card to Amazon for twenty dollars. The same thing he did for everyone else. Not a word said aloud by him. Smart man.

Then Neesa and Ryce- the party attendees. Neesa was the only person employed at Riads that I really talked to outside of work by choice. They got me new art supplies. One of the more thoughtful presents as mine needed replacing pretty terribly.

Neesa and I worked at a Mediterranean restaurant named Riads. It was a very popular restaurant that served amazing food in a nice laid-back atmosphere.

Raw brick inside and out with exposed oak rafters matched the wood floor. Simple square tables with stark white cloths covered the right side of the restaurant for romantic dinners, or family gatherings.

To the left were taller tables for casual diners, and bar goers. A single red candle sat on each and every table in a small clear round holder.

The front of the restaurant was trimmed in tiny yellow lights around the awning, and massive front windows. By each window was a platform. Once in a while we had acoustic musicians play. Usually it was filled with tables. They were the most popular tables in the house.

One of my favorite things about Riads was the dress code. As long as your shirt was either black or white, and clean, bossman didn't care what we wore.

Plus it was close to the loft. So unless a storm was brewing a hurricane or snow covered the ground to my knees, I walked almost everywhere. If it rained, I used an umbrella. If I had to go much farther than three miles anywhere, a rarity, I took transit or got a ride. Riads is only about one mile from my loft apartments.

The employee entrance was around the back in what we called the pit. It's where we kept all the smokers, wood, and old crates. It's also where most employees took their breaks.

As I came up the back, I saw two of our cooks outside. Brayden Patrick, the grill guy, and Ryce Dubri our house chef. "Hey, guys."

"Hey'dere, Anna!" Ryce called as Brayden gave a nod with a short wave while he took the last drag off his cigarette. Brayden was a quiet guy. We got along well.

"Neesa been lookin' for ya, you know." Ryce was from Barbados islands. His accent always had a way of making me smile. He was young for his position at age twenty-four, but everyone who knew him also knew he was the best. Also worth noting, Ryce was one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever met.

Neesa Saleen was his girlfriend. They're one of the strangest yet prettiest couples I've ever seen in my life. If you didn't know them, you hated them, but if you knew them, you had to love 'em both.

Clean-shaven head, Ryce is five-foot-ten. His skin was the color of rich hot coco, not to mention his twelve pack abs with arms bigger than my thighs. Neesa always said it was his bronze colored eyes that sealed the deal for her. Funny how most people didn't believe her.

Then of course there was Neesa. Both of her parents were from Brazil. Giving her skin like warm caramel with coffee color hair hung to her hips, complimenting a tiny petite frame with perfect elf-like features to match. All but her lips and eyes of course. Her lips were full and naturally mocha colored. Her doe like eyes looked like big Brazil nuts. They're both stunning basically.

I held up my cell phone to acknowledge she had been blowing it up for the last thirty minutes, just as it rang through with another text message. "Yeah I know." Ryce chuckled.

We had become pretty good friends seeing as she had worked there almost as long as I had. Quickly checking the message, it read much like the last five:

UR torturing me hurry up!

A cloud of smoke wafted through the air. It was a mixture of hickory from the two smoking metal boxes, and Brayden's cigarette smoke. I came through the door nearly plowing into Neesa who was on her way outside to greet me. The girl always seemed to know where to find me- even when. Another reason I didn't bother responding to the messages. Not to mention texting plus walking with me, not a great idea. My gene pool hadn't gifted me with coordination. I have the kind of luck where I could be walking down the street not paying attention and a piano would fall on my head.

Neesa launched herself at me, jettisoning us both into the office, where I promptly bumped my hipbone against the door jam. "Anna! You won't believe what my aunt sent me from New Mexico." Releasing me, she swung around, grabbing her purse, which I swear was big enough to hide a body in. As I rubbed my hip, she started to shuffle through the man eating purse in search of whatever trinket she was referring to.

However it was not a trinket or anything like I had expected. "They're just perfect. Really, I know they can help you. Ya know, with the dreams?" My jaw tightened as I watched her pull out a pack of tarot cards. The world got smaller. Not really, but it sure felt crowded in the office suddenly.

Neesa had been telling me since the day we met that she was psychic. Of course, most people didn't believe her. However, I wasn't one of those people. She'd proven it more than once. For example, I hadn't initially told her about my dreams. She just knew I had nightmares so she bugged me until I told her everything.

This is just one example. I knew Neesa meant nothing but the best but that didn't make it less creepy. "Nees, is this really such a good idea right now?" My brow wrinkled with worry as my stomach twisted in knots. Slowly I backed to the door as a strange feeling of desperation came over me. Desperation to get away. I didn't want to know what she might see. I didn't want her to look.

"Oh, Anna, don't be so ridiculous! I wouldn't give you a reading here! I'll swing by your place after your shift. We'll do it then." My jaw dropped to protest, but before I could speak, she landed a kiss on my cheek while hiding the cards in her apron before dashing out of the office. Shaking my head with a sigh, I finished getting ready for my shift.

Checking my black boots for mud, I scanned all the way up my dark blue denim clad hips. I wore a snug white lace embroidered tank top. Both hugged my figure perfectly, which would boost the night's tips by a good sum. Yeah, I'm shameless. Finally topping off the ensemble with the blackest apron I could find out of a stack of faded ones I was ready to go.

Mike knocked twice before opening the door. "Ah, Ryce said you were here. Good. Listen, I have three big parties coming in, but we're supposed to be real busy tonight. Do you mind letting the new girls take them while you and Neesa watch the floor?" Mike leaned against the doorframe. His brow creased with stress as usual.

Mike wasn't tall nor was he short. He wasn't skinny, though wasn't heavy either. His hair wasn't black. It wasn't grey. It was both salt and pepper. He wasn't Italian, he wasn't Sicilian. He was both. Mike was a middleman. If you paid attention to the usual clientele, he was a middleman in other ways, too.

Although he wasn't clean shaven, he didn't have a beard either. He liked goatees, and had worn one around his puckered mouth as long as I'd known him. When at work, he dressed impeccably, however when at home it was cotton button ups with blue jeans. Mike wasn't married, though he wore a hefty ring on the ring man's left phalange. It had been passed down through generations, he said. Shiny gold with a big fat ruby holding a square compass with a capital G in its center.

Though I tried to keep it quiet he heard the sigh. Neither of us commented on that as I smiled up at him. The only downside of this deal was Carrie Lane, Hannah Costess, and Rachel Moss had all worked at Riads under three months at best, that meant they would likely still need help with the parties. I'd make more money, though I'd work a lot harder. "Yeah that's fine. We got it." Not like Neesa or I would mind the extra money anyway.

"Good. You gonna clock in now?" He looked at his gold Rolex with a furrowed brow. Pondering the overtime no doubt.

"Not if it's gonna make that vein pop out any more." Mike's whole face scrunched up, and he grunted as he walked out without an answer. Which meant, 'No I'm not paying you an extra dollar just because you're fifteen minutes early.' Of course not, Mike. Wouldn't dream of asking. My eyes rolled.

Mike was right about it being busy. It was Friday so we were filled to the max on reservations. Already the walk-ins were flooding the bar. It was great for Neesa and me who could handle the rush without slacking on any of our tables. However the three newer girls looked ready to drop. I'd already banked a few hundred in tips. The biggest downside was my face hurt from smiling all night.

At long last, dinner rush was over. We had only half our tables full at nine o'clock. Neesa and Hannah were finishing their closing work so they could go home early. All I had left was four tables, two of those were regulars. One of them had just recently started coming in, though it seemed like he was there every night.

His name was Damien D'Tera. He always came in by himself, and always sat in my section. He'd come in about an hour ago, and had just signaled for his check. I waived to him with my brilliant work smile on my way to the bar to pick up another table's drinks. My way of letting him know I'd be right over. Damien raised his hand in response. Him saying, 'take your time.' He was never in a hurry.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt eyes on me the entire way from the bar to the other table. For the past few weeks I'd felt like that a lot though.

The only reason I knew anything about him was because all he ever ordered from was the drink menu. I always made sure to card him. After almost two months of him coming in nearly every day at eight o'clock sharp each night he had tried all of the mixed drinks, and had begun on our wine list. The strangest thing being he never finished a single drink. Not even half.

He was handsome. There was no disputing that for a second. His driver's license read six-foot-three, though he seemed taller to me. A lot of it was how he carried himself.

Lean, but incredibly well sculpted, every muscle perfectly pronounced. Not that I could see every muscle, but anyone could tell he was well toned. His hair was about an inch on top, but cut short on the sides. A slight beard covered his chin as if it had been a few days since his last shave. His lips were full, and well defined. Not too thick, not too thin.

Still, it was strange because... well, he always, and I do mean always, looked exactly like that. His beard was never shaggier than the sexy scraggly look. Hair was never any longer or ever any shorter. Quite literally only his clothes changed. Even then, the style was generally the same: jeans, a button up, black lace up boots.

Before meeting him I'd never believed Neesa when she told me it was Ryce's eyes that got her wrapped up with him so tight. She said the first time they met Ryce looked at her, and grabbed hold of her soul with that first glance. She's a little dramatic. With it came her heart. To hear her tell it, they'd been born to be soul mates. They're just one of those couples you just love to hate. They were too perfect.

Damien had turned me into a believer the first time I met him. No one knew this of course. Not even the psychic.

Two incredible gleaming eyes like peridot jewels digging for the core of my soul every time I looked at him made my stomach do back flips. My face flushed red as cherries right on cue each and every time. Damn it, Lianna! Get a grip! They did so now as I made my way across the restaurant. His eyes locked on mine every step of the way.

"So, Mr. D'Tera, should I bother to ask if I can get you anything else?" My breath caught on a knot in my throat. This always happened. It felt like I was choking on all the words I could never say. Words I couldn't even say to myself.

His eyes could have burned my flesh away as I stood there for what could have been eternity waiting for him to answer. I lost all track of time around him. "Yes." Is it pathetic that his voice was so rich and melodic I melted at one word? Yes.

"All right then," pause. "What is it that I can get for you?" Damien's lips curled to the side of his mouth in a smile that could only be called a smirk. Shaking his head as if enjoying a private joke before his eyes came to rest on mine.

It was impossible to look away from eyes like his. They were piercing straight through me. Cutting right through the façade. It took all my energy to even deliver his check for how hard it was to keep up my front around him. The front that let other people believe I was normal, even if just for a little while. My bottom lip sucked in between my teeth as I chewed on it in a nervous habit.

"Two months now, you still call me Mr. D'Tera." His eyes rolled dramatically. I couldn't help the stupid giggle that escaped my lips. My cheeks strained at the smile he brought to me. Being around him was the only time mine was genuine any more. His smile beamed brilliantly on that note. "One- Stop calling me mister already. It's Damien. Two- Your boss." My eyes went wide with question. "Oh, and the bill of course." His lips tugged up at the corner of his mouth just faintly enough to draw a slight crease to corners of his eyes.

The smile washed away. My brow knit together, eyes narrowed slightly. "Is there a problem?" My mouth tightened, clinching my teeth hard onto my lower lip, breaking the skin. I had a permanent broken lip just on the inside from the bad habit. The blood was minimal. My tongue flicked automatically to wash it away.

Leaving his, my eyes gazed over every detail on the table, searching for anything amiss. Things I knew already couldn't be there. A smudge on his gleaming wine glass. A dirty table. Yet everything was perfect as always. Was it me? Did I bring him the wrong order? Did the drinks suck? Maybe that's why he never finished. Perhaps he was some very compulsively thorough bar critique?

Like the flip of a switch, his pleasant joking demeanor changed. Sitting rigid in his chair, he glared down at the table, and shook his head no once. "Just need to see your manager is all," his voice was tight. As my eyes narrowed, I forced a painfully fake smile while nodding absently. I walked briskly to the back without a glance over my shoulder in Damien's direction. "And don't forget the bill, please," he called as I was walking. Pfft, like I would have forgotten.

Abruptly Carrie sidestepped in front of me to block the entry to the kitchen. "You know it's hardly fair that he always sits in your section. And you practically ignore him! It's not at all surprising he wants to see Mike. And why the hell won't you tell anyone his name? I know you've seen his I.D. You check it every goddamned time, like you haven't seen it a hundred times already!" her voice was hard and accusing as her eyes narrowed with a rage I would never understand.

Nor did I want to for that matter. There is a short fuse that leads to my temper. Carrie loved trying to trigger it, but it wasn't often that she managed. It was rare that I could muster the steam to give a damn about her. With her arms crossed to block my path she leaned against the doorframe.

Brittle thin, Carrie is bleached within an inch of the root, tan to the bone, and stretched long. Her slender frame didn't hold more than feeble threat over blocking much of anything. With her arms folded, she looked like a pouting five year old. Rose pink lips twitched with irritation. Heavily made up blue eyes caked in eyeliner, and smudged mascara made her bloodshot eyes look all the angrier. She was already half lit anyway.

It really steamed her when she couldn't irk me. Usually, I tried to stay calm just to piss her off more. "It's private. If he wants you to know then he will tell you." Brilliant sweet smile. "And if he's not happy in my section then he can sit anywhere he likes. I don't ask him to sit there. I don't even know him."

Patience is not my virtue, and Carrie was not even close to a friend. She had worked at Riads for three months, and her attitude was a problem she saved only for me. My head pounded like a sledgehammer on my forehead. My teeth clinched. I was losing the battle to stay cool as she refused to budge an inch. In my head, I could see violent things happening to her. Random wicked accidents that people can't admit to thinking about when it comes to others.

"So what? You bribe that dipshit of a hostess to sit him there? I mean surely he doesn't even tip you. Why would he?" her shrill voice was grating. My molars clamped together. Actually, he was the best tipper I'd ever had, but I didn't make it worse by mentioning that fact. I wasn't in the mood to explain anything to the bitch.

Absently, I looked over my shoulder back at Damien's table. He was watching us both with a raised brow. Obviously, he must be getting impatient though he seemed curious more than anything. "Please move, Carrie. And don't say things like that about the other employees. It's not nice," my voice was sweet, and innocent as honey, with more venom than a cobra's bite.

"Say things like wha'?" Ryce came up behind Carrie. Behind them both, Mike, and Rachel were watching curiously.

"Don't worry about it, Ryce." He was the over-protective type. Plus, he held grudges like a vice. Mike was great about taking care of his staff, and making sure no one messed with his servers, but Ryce took it to a new level.

One time, some college guys got rowdy at the bar, and grabbed Rachel's butt. He made a show like a New York bouncer by quite literally throwing them out the door all at once. It was as impressive as it was frightening. We were slammed for the next three weeks after that event amazingly. It attracted some serious attention in town. Ryce would never hurt a woman of course. He didn't like Carrie any more than I did though. We were the only ones who seemed to see through the makeup, and spray tan to the disgust beneath. Everyone else was okay with her.

The only person who actually really liked Carrie was the bartender. She was just John's type. Maybe it was their mutual hatred for me that brought them together? Who knew? Who cared?

I yelled over the two in front of me, mostly to put an end to the whole ordeal, "Mike! I got a table who wants to see you out front!" Carrie flashed a big flirty smile to Ryce as she walked out the back apparently deciding to take a break suddenly.

The gathering of on lookers quickly broke up as people went back to work. I told Mike what table before checking on the other three who were about ready to leave by the looks of things. I'd already taken care of two of the checks. The last one was finishing their coffee. The other had dwindled to drinks. No telling if it would be their first or last.

Neesa, as well as some of the other wait staff, had left for the night quickly followed by the prep cooks. It took everything I had to not spy on Mike, and my customer. Just to keep temptation at bay, I handed Mike Damien's receipt book as he was walking over to greet him. With any luck, Mike would comp the bill. Then I would have no need to go back over there. No such luck of course.

As I was filling condiments, Mike laid Damien's receipt book with a crisp twenty sticking out the top in front of me. He walked off without a word, and the oddest expression that could only be described as a thoughtful daze.

What had happened? Did he complain about his drink? Me? Some other erroneous fact that marred tonight's visit that I had completely missed? Mike didn't say. Didn't hint in any direction. Just walked off without a word.

I bit down on my lip in frustration as I picked up the black folded ticket book. I was tired. My head was pounding. My jaw hurt. I grind my teeth when I'm mad. My lip hurt. I bite my lip when I'm frustrated or nervous or just in a query. My feet hurt. I was mad at Carrie. Mad I had to play nice. Mad at Mike for not putting her in her place or telling me what was up with D'Tera. Annoyed I'd taken the most tables, and no one had helped me even run drinks. In other words, I was just cranky. My hands were shaking badly.

Deep breath. In. Out. There's Tylenol at home in the medicine cabinet. Just Chill. Smile. Good. Now get through the night. It's almost over. I couldn't bring myself to tell me that tomorrow was going to be a repeat of today. I never had the heart to do it. Work or not. The days never changed any more.

Carrie was absolutely right in her own way. In some ways, I didn't want anyone else to serve him let alone look at him. Like the times I would see Carrie flaunt herself in front of him, licking her lips as if she was a starving lioness, and he were her dinner. It was irrational of course. He was polite though never more so. Not just to me but to everyone.

Not like I would ever dream of dating a customer. Not that he'd asked anyway. Didn't matter though. I wouldn't even consider dating a co-worker. That definitely cut down my options with such strict limitations. Not that I had really met anyone I worked with that I had been very interested in.

While off in my own little world contemplating my sorry romantic history, I caught myself staring at him.

Shit! He was staring back. He looked conflicted between amusement, and frustration. Absently a pen moved in his fingers without him so much as glancing down. I took in a deep breath. My cheeks burning I nodded, holding up his book. No nod of confirmation. Nothing. He looked away.

Damn it! What did I do to you?

A new fear hammered in my heart erupting out of nowhere. What if I never saw him again? He came into my life strictly through work. One day he would eventually stop. The only relief in my days had been him even if he sucked the energy right out of me. It was stupid.

Ridiculously stupid! I'm not like this. No one controls me any more. Since when did I let a total stranger take charge of the happiness in my days? Since my subconscious stopped finding anything else to smile about, that's when.

It was the truth. Even if I wanted to deny it.

Embarrassed, and agitated, I ran to the register to finish counting out his change in a rush. As soon as I was done, I saw him walking out the door. "Hey, you forgot your change!" I was yelling at a closed set of doors as I attracted a lot of prying eyes from not just customers but the other people I worked with. Again. Yay...

"Guess he didn't want it. Was it a good tip at least?" Uh, it was an eight-dollar glass of wine. Yeah.

Our hostess, Angelica Maurice or Angie rather, is very much Sicilian in looks and attitude both. Hair so dark chocolate it was almost black. Olive skin, heavy cheeks on a not too thin not too thick, curvy figure. Big brown eyes off set her all natural ruby colored heart shaped lips.

Angie watched me as I stood there holding the book, still looking at the doors as if they had just slapped me.

"Um... did he say anything to you when he left, Angie?" I turned to her trying to appear only professionally curious while my heart fought the hammering down to a dull thrum. "He asked for Mike tonight."

Her brow rose curiously as she shook her head, looking back to the reservation books to set up the next day's tables. With a sigh, I shoved the book into my apron, moving to turn around. "He didn't say anything. But you should go clean off his table." She didn't look up at me though I could see her teeth bite down on her lip in a grin. Oh hell... She saw it. The only reason my foolish heart had continued on the rampage while my brain screamed shut up.

Without another word, I walked up to the now empty table. The wine glass was nearly full. Just as he always left it. And just like always, under the wine glass was a napkin with a beautifully sketched black rose on it. Only this time in a perfect elegant script,

"How the hell did he know?" Of course I hadn't mentioned it was my birthday to anyone at work. Neesa and Ryce knew, though neither had spoken to him. Mike knew, but surely he wouldn't go telling a total stranger details about his employees.

Clenching my eyes shut, I glanced up at Angie who just grinned. As I walked past her, I laid more than her normal percent of tips down on the stand. "You didn't see this." I stuffed the waded napkin into my pocket.

Angie went on grinning, making a show of zipping her lips as she pocketed her tips without another word. She wouldn't say anything, I was sure. She liked holding other peoples secrets. My philosophy teacher would have said she liked feeling the power of knowing things that others didn't. She would have been right.

Work ended quickly after that. Before long, I was walking home in nervous anticipation of seeing Neesa soon. There wasn't a great deal of reason for me to be worried about the reading really. I trusted her well enough to know she kept my business to herself. Not even Ryce knew the details. Even if he knew she was giving me a reading he would never know more.

It had rained most of the day though it was dry now. The heat of the day had caused a thick fog to settle into even the slightest valley. This was a common event throughout all of Vermont. Common or not though it was still eerie.

Halfway home, I was questioning if I should have just taken a ride from Ryce to their place, and let them drive me home after her reading. I'd really wanted to go home so I could scrub the work off me.

The air was dank, making my skin crawl and the hair on my arms rise. It wasn't long before I felt nervous, and I began turning more corners. Uncertain why my nerves were so tense, I listened to them anyway. Detouring about a half a mile there was a convenient store I ducked into that some friends of my father's owned. Harper's Corner Store. I'm not a chicken. I like to call it cautious.

It was eleven thirty in the evening. Though the shop was closing I walked in anyway. Widow Barbara Harper owned the store. Usually they never minded when I came in late.

Melody was working that night. She was Barbara's oldest daughter. As the saying went, with age came beauty. She was a natural bombshell by the age of fifteen. Before that the most awkward looking kid imaginable. We'd been in school together. Well, I had graduated early during her freshmen year, but we'd known each other beforehand for years anyhow.

Her sisters were sweet. The youngest Tiffany, otherwise known as Tippy, was an actress. Or at least hell bent on becoming such. The middle child, Daphne, always popular but not because of the fact she was pretty, and had money, but for how nice she was.

Melody was their opposite. She could be nice. However, she was a strategist. How did being nice benefit her in each scenario? She practically ran the store now at seventeen. She hadn't even graduated. She reorganized the books when her father died, and had actually done a better job than he'd ever dreamed. Her mother was as astonished as she was proud. Melody was miserable knowing she'd never be able to leave because of it.

She knew Paul of course, too. That was a strange relationship I have no intention trying to decipher let alone explain now.

"Hey, Mel," calling as I walked in, it surprised me she didn't even look up. In fact, she looked absolutely irritated. We weren't exactly friends so I had no wish to pry into her business. Although it would have been a good excuse to stay there for a bit longer as I had originally hoped. Oh wells. I settled with buying a Sobe before quickly leaving. Standing just outside the closed door, I drank down half the bottle before closing it, holding it down in my hand at an awkward angle.

Taking a quick scan across the street, I saw a man who stood cast in the shadows across the street. He stood directly beneath a burned out lamppost. I hadn't noticed that the bulb was even blown until now. The knot in my stomach started twisting and flipping violently. The hair on the back of my neck rose. Gooseflesh covered my arms. It hadn't just been paranoia. The glass bottle was held at a good angle to swing.

Half my brain argued that I should run back into the store. The other half mocked me. And do what? Call the cops? That would be real great. Hey, Richard! Just little ole me scared of the boogieman. Rescue me, and please be sure to let Paul know! Um, no thanks.

The other possibility of me turning back that resulted in the negatory? What if I was right? I wasn't leading him to Melody, let alone locking us in a store with some nut bag right outside. So the other half won.

Twisting to make a sharp right, I bumped my shoulder into the brick corner leaving the stores shallow entryway. Humph. So graceful. My feet carried me at a curt walk despite the fact I wanted to bolt into a dead run.

In minutes, I made it to the next block, and around another corner. For the entire block, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.

My pounding heart came to a sudden stop hearing tires squeal behind me on the damp street. Breathe. The street's wet. Just someone skidding is all. Keep walking. Heart racing, my stomach started doing flips. My knees were shaking so hard I felt paralyzed. Forcing myself to look over my shoulder, I turned to see the vehicle just as it rolled up to a stop beside me.

It was a huge black Jeep, lifted, and chrome trimmed. A gleaming paint job topped it all off. I had seen it every night I had worked for a few months now. The window rolled down automatically as I heard a familiar golden voice sounding rougher now than it ever had been before though, "Lianna. How about I give you a ride? It's starting to rain. Come on."

Damien's voice sounded somewhat strained, though I didn't care one bit. The door flung open as he spoke. He wasn't taking no for an answer. Nodding, I eagerly moved to the door while watching the man still following me on foot turn down another street sharply.

Damien extended a hand to help me up. I paused only briefly before taking it. His skin was like ice, yet it made my blood boil. His Jeep was bigger than most, so I did have to most literally climb in.

Damien's eyes seemed narrowed when he looked in the rear view mirror closely.

As he drove, we both relaxed a little more at every turn. We hadn't said two words to one another since I first climbed into the Jeep.

"It's not tomorrow yet," I hadn't thought before my tongue sputtered it out. Thunder nearly deafened my words. Rain was pelting the hood, and windshield with massive wet drops. The aluminum hood made a hollow plunking sound. My mind hadn't registered the start of the rain.

Damien seemed caught off guard and perplexed for just a split second before realization hit him, making him amused. "I would have waited until after midnight, but you would have gotten soaked by then."

"In that case, thank you for the ride. It was so nice for you to stop." Some people say I am a bit sarcastic.

Damien gave a curt laugh as he nodded. "Happy to oblige, Lianna." Fumbling with the lid on the bottle of Sobe I bought at the store, I guzzled it down before shoving the empty bottle down into my shoulder bag. My whole body was flushed with heat. "Are you all right?" His brow arched as he glanced over at me.

"I'm fine." Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. "I didn't think anyone else knew. You know, my birthday. I didn't think anyone knew about my- well, you know." Why am I rambling? Am I really so nervous? My cheeks burned. Just from being tired though. Liar!

"You ramble when you're nervous? I like that. Don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone." My brow furrowed together curiously, though I dismissed his strange words that mocked my thoughts. Damien's lips curled up in his trademark smirk again. I could feel my cheeks glow.

"You already did tell. Wait. What? I ramble? Or about my birthday? And why would I be nervous?" Guess I'm not the only one who has a sharp tongue. Good to know.

Shaking his head, he struggled to keep up with my rambling. "I don't know. You tell me." Damien gave a deep sigh as he gazed up at my apartment. At that moment, I realized I hadn't told him how to get there. Not at all.

My eyes narrowed as I looked at him in the dark. My hand moved to the handle, more than eager to get inside. The rain was still pouring. I would be soaked the second I stepped out. "Well, thanks for the ride. I'll see you later, I guess."

"Tomorrow." Damien smirked. Thunder cracked suddenly, making my entire body jump. Damien reached for my arm as I jumped though he stopped short of the touch. His eyes just watched me, narrow not with anger but perhaps thoughtfully - intensely.

"Tomorrow," I agreed. Pushing the door open abruptly, I moved too quickly. My feet hit the metal step bar causing me to slip and fall just at another clack of thunder. The noise coming out of my mouth was something between a whimper and a groan. Lightning fluttered through the sky vibrantly with blue and white.

My knees hurt so horribly from the fall I didn't want to move. Not only that, but my hands stung and throbbed from the hard landing on the gravel drive. To top it off, I had landed in a puddle of mud masking excruciatingly sharp rocks. I should mention a lot of gravel in this part of the country is mixed with broken seashell. It's cheap. It sucks.

Hearing the driver door open, I twisted around to shut the door before I even got myself back to my feet. Completely humiliated, I wanted to run for the apartment building before he got to me, but I wasn't fast enough.

"Anna!" He was standing above me in less than the time it took for my heart to beat. Damien's hands placed gently beneath my arms against my ribs as he lifted me up slowly. Leaning down, he picked up my shoulder bag, and slid it back up my arm.

The rain was relentlessly pouring. Damien hadn't even shut the driver door in his hurry. "Sorry," mumbling, I tried to push past him, but he still had a hand on my arm.

Damien whispered, "You're bleeding." Looking down, I saw my jeans were torn on each knee, and indeed stained with blood as well as the muddy water. As I watched, the stains grew. My hands also had quite a few small cuts from the shells, though nothing too terribly serious. "And why on earth would you be sorry?"

His hand slid down my shoulder to my wrist turning my hand gently to look at my bloody palm. Embedded deeply into my flesh was a large sliver of seashell. His fingers were shaking just slightly as he carefully pulled it out. It was impossible not to wince. With his steady grip he kept my hand from jerking, and tearing more skin. He was very gentle about it.

Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I bit down hard. It had been a long week. I was just too exhausted to deal with being banged up again. The urge to cry like a child was overwhelming which made my urge to run and hide almost irresistible.

Unable to speak, I pulled my hand from him. Turning to walk away, I hobbled a jog to the door of the building. Running in front of me, Damien pulled the door open before I could even reach it.

My eyes narrowed as I looked at him questioningly. His smile was understanding. The rain pouring down soaked us both to the bone. It took nothing away from his looks of course. I'm sure I looked like a drowned rat. I felt like one. A beaten one. In fact, the outcome was quite the opposite on him. Not saying another word, he only nodded as I walked past him.

Gimping all the way up the stairs, I ran to my window as soon as I reached the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind me. Looking down into the parking lot, Damien's Jeep was still there, though he had gotten back in. I stood at my window until he turned onto another street. Before I could turn away I saw Neesa's car pull into the lot.

The door was left open for Neesa as I grabbed a towel to dry off my hair while she made her way upstairs. "Anna?" she called from the open door before coming in.

"Come in, Neesa! I'm just cleaning up." Whilst drying my hair with a towel, I walked to my closet for some fresh clothes. "I just need to change real quick." My body was shaking with a strange chill though it was eighty plus in the apartment.

"Oh my." Neesa seemed taken aback by my appearance. "Why don't you just take a shower while I make us some tea? I don't mind, really." She laughed as she shook her head.

"So sorry I got caught in the rain, jeeze. But I think I will go take that shower." I felt like hell. I looked worse. Those were my smallest complaints of the night.

"Yes, do that." She laughed again while setting her mecha purse on the kitchen counter. "I wouldn't be surprised if you would've walked home," she said as she rummaged through her purse, "though seeing as you didn't-" her words stopped me dead in my tracks. Leaving me standing in the doorway of the bathroom with my back to her. "Don't worry. We'll talk when you're done. Now just go enjoy a nice hot shower. Try to relax. Your tea will be done when you're ready, Lianna."

Without a word, I shut the bathroom door behind me. My mind raced on red alert wondering how she knew. If she had seen Damien and I together or if she just knew like she knew other things. I undressed in a hurry to get my sopping wet clothes off so I could climb into a burning hot shower.

The loft apartment used to be a big art studio. My brother and I did a lot to the place when I moved in, including completely re-doing the bathroom. The entire room from the walls to the floors was raw brick. There was a walk in shower with a sunken down floor, also entirely brick. As well as a solid, massive, gleaming black claw foot tub. The vanity counter with the sink was all built with fire stoned clay, and raw stone, including the handmade sink. On the wall hung a huge faux gilded mirror.

What can I say, I dabbled in a little of everything art based. For a while I was on a huge pottery kick.

Also one of my favorite things about the place was every part of the ceiling in the entire loft was lined in icicle Christmas lights that I used instead of the blinding overheads. Aside from the kitchen, and some scattered lamps of course. Although even those are rarely on. I really hated the headaches bright lights caused me.

It wasn't my intention to take such a long shower, however once I got in I just couldn't make myself get out. By the time I was done, my bathroom was fogged, and my skin was blotchy red. It felt great, though my knees and hands burned like fire. I hadn't been able to wash my hair for the little cuts.

The rest of my loft was the essence of simplicity, especially since it was mostly one big open space. Scattered at random were some of my art pieces of course. My favorite, a large piece hanging over my bed was more of a rendition of my nightmares.

Creepy having such a picture hanging directly above my head as I sleep? Eh, why not. The dreams won't change either way. Across the big open room were two large chairs, and a small black coffee table.

This was where I found Neesa all settled in one of my overstuffed chairs in front of the coffee table with two cups of tea waiting with her tarot deck ready as well. I sat in the chair opposite of her crossing my legs butterfly style.

"So... are you going to tell me what you meant before?" Reaching for a cup of tea, I looked at her expectantly.

"Don't get defensive. I saw his Jeep pulling out when I turned onto your street. You know who I mean. Your little hottie that's been coming into the restaurant so much lately." She took a sip of tea to hide her grin before setting her cards up for a shuffle.

With a deep sigh, I swirled the warm liquid around in the mug. "It's nothing, Nees. He saw me walking, and it was about to rain so he offered me a ride. That's all." There was no way I was going to tell her the whole story.

"Okay, honey bunny. I won't push it. I saw your knees got scraped up, your hands, too. I have some salve that will help." She was already shuffling through her purse while talking. In another second, she pulled out a fat blue jar made of dark blue glass, setting it on the table for me.

There was no point in arguing so I just nodded. Setting my mug down to pick up the jar, I watched as she got her cards ready. "So how long have you been using tarot cards?" There was no hidden subtext of accusation in the question just mild curiosity.

This sort of thing wasn't very surprising coming from Neesa. She reminded me of the Gypsies you read about in fairy tales though more modernized. Well, a little more at least.

"My mom taught me a long time ago." Her smile was sweet as she set the deck in front of me to cut. "Don't be scared of this, Anna. Tarot was designed to give insight as well as understanding on our past, present, and future. It's very simple. Tell me what answers you seek, focus only on them while you cut the cards into three, then restack them."

"I don't know what to ask though." Rubbing the salve into my torn flesh felt really nice. It tingled a little however it was warm, and soothing at the same time.

"Well that's all right. Before we begin, I want you to meditate with me anyway. It will clear your mind and soul. That will sooth your whole body." She took another sip of tea before pulling herself into a perfect lotus position.

"Now sit just like I do." My hesitation was obvious as my body became more rigid. "Just trust me, Anna." Sighing I set down the salve before copying her lotus position in my favorite chair.

"Good. Now place your hands on your knees palms up. Close your eyes. Focus on nothing but my voice... Now begin to breathe slowly, taking deep breaths. Inhale with your nose, then exhale through your mouth." She did so.

"As you breathe in, picture breathing in a thick white fog. This fog is pure clean energy filled with peace, and healing. As you exhale, picture yourself breathing out a thick black fog filled with all of your negativity. All of the bad toxins of your body exiting with every breath. All the doubt. All the hate and pain leaving you with every breath you release."

Following her instructions wasn't as easy as one would think. For what felt like several minutes she continued guiding me through this process. It took a while, but suddenly my body felt lighter. The pain in my hands, and knees was all but forgotten.

"Your palms up will begin to absorb pure energy like two white beams of light being sucked into your body through your open hands," her voice was thick as honey. Slow and soothing. "This energy is the purest energy you have ever felt. It's regenerating your every cell as it flows into your hands then throughout your entire being.

"Now think of your soul as a physical ball of a deep golden light radiating the most soothing warmth. The light burning in the center flows out like the sun. Now this light has filled you to the point it's bursting out through every pore of your skin. You're now experiencing all of this simultaneously."

There's no telling how long we sat in silence just like this- breathing in the good, and out the bad mojo. The beams of energy flowing into my palms ran through me, mingling with my own blood. The imagined golden light warmed my entire body from the inside out.

At long last, Neesa's voice broke into my thoughts again, "Excellent. Now we may begin your reading. Open your eyes, Anna." My eyes fluttered open slowly as if waking up from the most restful sleep.

"Whoa." There were no words to describe how wonderful and light I felt.

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Neesa's expression mirrored my euphoria.

"How did you do that? I mean what was that?" My head, no, my entire body still felt so wonderful, clean, and just so light. It was as if I was floating.

"It's just energy meditation. You should try to meditate before you go to bed. Also you should do it as soon as you wake up. There are a lot of things I could show you, but not now. Now we can begin your reading. Go ahead and cut the cards into three, then restack them in any order you feel is right."

"All right. But I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to be asking for."

"It's okay. We will ask for understanding and guidance then. Just try to keep the same feeling of peace while you do so. The cards will show us what we need to know." She smiled in her exotic yet angelic way that was purely Neesa while sliding the cards across the table to me.

Neesa lay the first card down in the center of the table. The card was titled the Page of Wands. "This is a good card." Neesa's brow narrowed. Her fingers lingered on the surface of the card as lightly as she could. Clearly, her earlier enthusiasm seemed to be failing her.

"Okay? So what's it mean?" Sucking on the mug of tea until it was nearly gone, I sat curled up, watching Neesa more than the cards.

"Um... well usually the card is a representation of you. It would be interpreted as someone who is very energetic, self-reliant, and optimistic. It also shows signs of reliable information coming. It can mean new beginnings, even great amount of change. Here, let me check it." Neesa reached into her purse, pulling out a fat old worn book, with yellowed pages.

It took merely a few moments for her to flip through to her desired page. "The Page of Wands upright represents change, and new beginnings. Often the Page of Wands indicates there is some creative restlessness within us, which is anxious for expression. Or that we are on the verge of some sort of discovery or new phase of life.

"He stands in a barren land which indicates much of this creative energy within is still very much only a potential or at best only an idea. Yet his radiant energy, the fire of his passion, and inspiration is bursting with the desire for expression- despite the fact no one else is there to hear him. Therefor... he is alone." Neesa glanced up to me, forcing a hard smile before she laid her book down onto the table beside her, retrieving her deck again.

Her eyes stared down at the card already in position with such concentration that somehow I didn't believe she really was looking at the card at all. She had that look that said she saw something else entirely.

In moments, she placed another card on the table, her fingers sticking to it like glue. Her sharp intake of breath was quiet, but I still caught it. With a jerk, her hand pulled back. She slowly looked up to me with her large brown eyes. Her lips forced a hard smile again. The card read the Fool.

"This position is meant to be what you show the world. This card shows you are just at the beginning of your journey, in so there are unlimited possibilities. You will soon be presented with a great choice. One in which only you can decide on your eternal fate- so much so that in your great yearning for freedom you will follow visions even without resource."

She sat in silence a long moment. "You know, Anna, I'm really not feeling too well. I must be tired. Maybe this should wait until the weekend?" Her fingers trembled slightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. You insisted on starting this. You drove all the way here. Come on, we've come this far already. This sounds like it's getting good." Finishing off my tea, I set the cup back onto the table. Insistently, I gestured for her to continue. Still forcing the meek smile, she nodded as she dealt the next card.

She lay upon the table Strength. A card picturing a beautiful woman mounted on the back of a lion. "This card warrants for moderation in attitudes toward pain, and danger. With neither being avoided at any costs. Nor actively wanted. Cautioning to be wary of weak emotions. Your battle is not just external but internal. This position is meant to be what you hide from the world."

Neesa shuddered involuntarily while laying out the next card automatically. It was titled Fire Element of Wands. "This card position represents the face of which you are ashamed of... Deadlines are coming to bring things to crisis. Obligations and expectations weigh heavily mentally, emotionally, physically. You are shouldering great burdens out of pride. Time is running out. You must tie loose ends up from old ways of life." Her fingers acted as a trembling leaf, hovering barely over the card as she refused to look at me.

"Neesa? Are you okay?" my voice was a whisper as I watched her deal the final card. "Nees, I think it goes the other way. The rest are turned differently." Neesa was ignoring me now, breathing deeply as she tended to do during times of stress. "Nees?"

"It's just how it was meant to be, Lianna," Neesa's voice had taken on a dark tone. Her fingers lay on the very corner of the card with her eyes closed.

"Death in reverse position. In this position the card shows what things have yet to pass. It shows resistance in changing. Terrible threat. Great trouble brings painful anxiety. Tragic loss... It is said with the shaman's death, the old you dies so a better stronger self can be born. Transformation is the key."

A soft gasp came from Neesa's lips as she jerked her hand away from the card. Staring down at the diamond like pattern between us, she quickly reached over, grabbing my empty cup, looking down into the bottom as if she were confused.

I was left so speechless by the last card I couldn't form the question to ask her what she was doing. In a moment's time, the mug fell from her hands, hitting the floor. Splashing soggy tea leaves on the wooden floor as she quickly jumped from her pillow. Grabbing her phone, she head for my bathroom. The door slammed behind her.

After a second of pulling myself back together, out of my state of confusion, I jumped up to follow her. Before I could knock, I heard low whispers from the bathroom, and laid my ear to the door.

"Momma, I know what I saw!" she spoke in a low anxious panic. "You have to see her. I did something wrong. What if now something terrible is going to happen? – You don't know that! – I looked at her tea leaves, too." A moment of silence.

"The cards are wrong! I did something wrong... Momma, she's my best friend, I would know. Okay, when? - Well check, I need to bring her soon. What should I tell her? I can't exactly tell her she's going to die! These cards aren't supposed to be so literal!" Slowly I backed away from the door.

In a daze, I sunk to the floor next to the coffee table, cleaning the mess with my fingers. A moment later Neesa emerged from the bathroom, paler than I had ever seen her. "Anna?" her soft voice cracked. "I didn't mean to run off like that. I told you I wasn't feeling well."

I could barely acknowledge her with a nod. "You should go home, and get some rest," my voice was weak. Emotionless and even.

"Maybe that's a good idea." She picked up her things, shoving them all back into her purse slowly. I stood, taking the teacups into the kitchen to wash them for her. She mopped up the rest of the tea mess with paper towels. All the while neither of us spoke.

With gleaming wet eyes, Neesa hugged me goodbye tightly. She left with the promise I would see her again soon. Even if I didn't want to I imagined.

After a night of sleep, I had hoped to feel a little better about the day before. Unfortunately, no such luck. The dreams were worse than ever, too.

They were wild, and violent, but nothing like usual. Just images flashing occasionally in utter darkness. The dark didn't keep the sound of the screams away though. My own screaming awoke me to find my pillow stained in fresh blood, which still ran down from my nose over my busted lip.

Quickly, I stripped my pillowcase, throwing the pillow to the floor using the thick Egyptian cotton case to wipe my face, and hold against my gushing nose and blood coated lips.

The quick action came from experience. In fact, I picked the high thread count black Egyptian cotton set because it didn't absorb liquid well. That and it was pretty easy to hide stains with black. In turn, my pillow on the floor had limited bloodstains.

Sliding out of bed, I ran for the bathroom, dropping the pillowcase on the floor. Turning the faucet on hot, I cupped water into my hands, quickly washing my face clean. Staring down at the sink, I watched the blood swirl through the water to run down the drain.

Staring into the mirror as the last drops of blood dripped off my chin before they had healed enough to stop. My lip had been busted from biting it- a terrible nervous habit of mine.

Grabbing a towel, I dried off before dropping it to the floor on top of the pillowcase, and muddy clothes from the night before as I walked back to my bed, sitting on the edge. The clock read six forty-five a.m. I had gotten three hours sleep it seemed. In about five more hours, I would be on the way to work.

The time was spent soaking my bloody laundry in peroxide. Rinsing and washing the muddy clothes from the night before with my bag that had been drenched as well. Its contents were strewn across the stripped bed on a towel.

After cleaning, I sat on my bed weaving a Dutch braid down over my shoulder. When I was finally done, I stripped out of the tank top and yoga pants from the night before. Standing in black lace panties with a matching bra, I stared at my closet, lost in thought as I chose my clothes. Eventually I grabbed a nice black cotton tank top with a sheer white lace one to pull over it. Dark blue denim jeans with a black and white lace scarf that had silver thread woven through it as a belt.

My ears were pierced three times up each side, and once in the top on my left side. I stuck in some dangly silver earrings with stars hanging from different length of silver chains in the bottom holes, choosing a different stud earring in all the other holes: one silver lizard, a dragonfly, silver rose bud, shiny blue star, one diamond, and a red lady bug in the top left side.

Once I was jeweled up, I dumped the rest of my jewelry out to polish it. A small velvet box caught my eye in the corner of my cheap old jewelry box. It was my grandmother's necklace. She had been a devout Roman Catholic. Of course, I never claimed any faith, but she'd given it to me anyway. Once it was clean, I slipped it on around my neck.

To be honest, I was doing all of this to distract myself from thinking about the day before. Didn't work, sadly.

While strategically putting on makeup to cover the blue rings under my eyes, my mind was stuck on the tarot reading from the night before. Mentally trying to piece a connection together with life as I knew it compared to what Neesa said. What she sort of said. What she wouldn't say and what I overheard to be more accurate.

The walk to work made me feel jittery. Unable to shake the feeling of being followed or any of the memories of the last night. These feelings lingered when I had arrived at work, stealing my focus.

Mike startled me to attention while I doddled in the office before my shift by bursting through the door. "Good, you're early. Clock in we're having a shift meeting today in the storage room." Giving him a nod, I finished securing an apron around my waist as I punched into the computer on his desk before following him out.

The storage room was just past the kitchen that led to the back doors, and the pit. It was basic. Walk in fridge and freezer to the left, two standalone fridges for the dry aged meats. The main room was about twenty by twenty. Metal wracks lined each wall, each lined with the basics: Onions, rice, flour, sugar, plus a million other things that created our various featured menu items. It smelled like potatoes and cardboard mostly. The office was where we kept everything for the bar, as well as all the cleaning supplies. The office was the same size as the storage room.

We held shift meetings to go over unusual parties like prom nights for the high school, new menu items, or our duty chores for each section. We had two prep cooks, plus two line cooks. Because of the small kitchen staff, each server had set up and closing work to help the kitchen, which thus helped us in making sure the restaurant ran better. Simple stuff mostly, cleaning sometimes or cutting fruit or prepping other stuff for the bar. At close, we checked the soda station, stocked, and cleaned.

We opened in an hour. Shift meetings were common throughout the week. That day's hadn't been scheduled. I expected Mike would give us a run down on who had what section or how many parties were planned. General things and the such.

This day would be much different however.

As I joined Neesa in the tightly clustered group, I looked up to see Damien leaning against a wall feigning interest in the bulletin board. Neesa nudged me, motioning with her head in Damien's direction. Obviously wanting the same answer I did. What is he doing here?

Of course on his right was Carrie flirting her way through an explanation of everything on the board. Yes, it is sooo hard to figure out the schedule with the section chart. Or the flyer for Brayden's upcoming party. Maybe she thinks he is too stupid to understand the phone list. Hell maybe he is. How should I know? Damien chuckled, shaking his head with a strange look of amusement. I swore his eyes cast in my direction.

Then again I may have been going crazy.

"All right everyone, listen up," Mike bellowed. "It's gonna be twice as busy as it was last night. And as you all obviously know by now we have a new employee, Damien D'Tera." Mike went off assigning sections that Angie had laid out the night before. She was the best hostess we'd ever had- fair in every sense of the word.

Once finished, Mike turned his focus on Damien and me. Oh boy. "Anna, you're going to train Damien tonight. Damien, listen to her every word. We're gonna be busy so you need to stay out of the way, and try to help out as much as you can all at once."

Standing there speechless, Mike's frustration began to grow. He leaned closer to me as if no one else could hear, despite the fact he didn't know how to whisper, "I know you hate being thrown into the fire, but you've been here the longest. So just do what you need to with him."

Just then, Carrie slithered into our conversation, while running a hand up Damien's arm. "Mike, if Anna's not up to it, I would be more than happy to pick up her slack." I bet you would.

Damien smiled whilst sliding his arm away from Carrie as he, too, stepped into the conversation, "It's all right. I promise not to get into anyone's way. I've done this before as you remember from our conversation, Mike."

Damien's eyes locked with Mike's. After a moment of pause, Mike shook his head. "Take care of Anna then, Damien." Damien nodded, stepping over to my side, opposite of Neesa. I was still speechless as Mike hurried to break up the group, to get us off to work.

Carrie shot me the death glare as she pushed through Damien, and me. As she walked by, she bumped my shoulder in a way I'm sure she hoped hurt. It didn't. Damien didn't even acknowledge the scene as he looked at me with a sly yet amused smirk. "Where do we begin?"

"Um," How bout with why you're here? "I'm section three which means we prep drinks. Go find the lemons, cucumbers, and limes in the walk in." Damien looked at me expectantly. "Oh, ten lemons, ten limes, and two cucumbers. Meet me in the prep kitchen." Grabbing a huge jar of maraschino cherries, I marched to the kitchen without a backwards glance.

Mike was right about being slammed. It was so busy it was eleven at night before we looked like we were done with tables. New customers were only aiming for the bar.

Of course, Damien did great all night. He got plates to my tables while I took orders. Also, he made sure not a single table went without a drink refill for the entire restaurant. At one time, he slipped behind the bar to help our bartender out with his rush. He never missed a beat as he spun a bottle of vodka through the air, caught it, and then poured a martini glass full. He even managed not to spill a drop as he slid it to the patron waiting.

We were so busy I hadn't had the chance to really ask him much of anything. The only talking we did was shift talk, "We do this this way that that way. This is kept here and that over there. I need this here and that over there." Nothing of what I wanted to ask. At least until near closing time when close work started.

The restaurant only really had one shift. People would split or work half shifts if they had errands to run, but we didn't open till one in the afternoon, closing started at ten at night. On some occasions, we closed early or we stayed open late if due to an occasion or just because people wouldn't seem to leave. Tonight was one of those nights.

"Damien, come help me with the soda canisters. I will show you how we change them out." We unhooked two empty canisters before carrying them to the back. They were kept in the office with all the alcohol.

Just as we stepped into the office, I shut the door, leaning my back into it. "Out with it, Damien."

"At last you call me Damien." He smiled that rueful smirk. "Out with what?" He turned to face me. His eyes narrowed with a mock show of bewilderment. What on earth could I possibly mean?

"What are you doing here?" My brows rose expectantly. I don't buy innocent.

"Well I thought we were grabbing new soda canisters." Folding his arms over his chest with his usual amused smirk, I realized he was mocking me.

"Riads? Really? I'm not stupid. You know exactly what I mean. You mean to try to tell me, that your only option for a job is a waiter at a hole in the wall?" I nodded at the shirt he was wearing. Of course I was only guessing. Let's just say it sure wasn't from Wally World.

He gave an innocent casual shrug. My questioning him like this didn't bother Damien one bit. "You're right. I don't need this job. However, I've always been good at this sort of thing. Plus I like this place. Calling it a hole in the wall is hardly fair by the way." For a split second, I flinched. He was right. It wasn't five stars, but it was nice.

I pushed the last comment aside. Damien's answer caught me off guard. Who on earth works a grunt job for fun? "What, did mommy and daddy tell you to get a job to try to teach you responsibility or something like that?" my voice was hard, accusatory. He was barely twenty-one. I'd met plenty of guys like that in college- only there to keep their parents money in their pockets.

Damien's lips tightened, twitching slightly. "I don't actually remember my mother or father. So I am sorry, though I'm afraid you're mistaken. Is there really something wrong with me working here simply because I want to?" It still felt like he was evading me even though he was answering my questions. Sort of. The twisted smile resumed.

Boy was I the bitch now! "Oh God." My chin dropped, averting my gaze away from him. "Okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed I knew you. But how did you know where I live?" on the last sentence, my eyes came back up to meet his. My brow rose as my lips twisted into a tense smirk in mock of his, while in the meantime my stomach was doing back flips of unease. There was no graceful recovery for the way I'd jumped at him.

"I'm not a stalker. Just observant. Before I started here I didn't have much to do in town so I just drove around a lot. I'd seen you on your way to and from the building a few times. I just assumed. I should have told you instead of making you so nervous. I'm sorry, really." His grin was gone as he looked me directly in the eye. He seemed so open, so honest, yet simultaneously elusive.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, I'm totally the one who blew this. I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I had no idea-"

He laughed, bringing his smile to his eyes as he shook his broad shoulders, making my cheeks burn. "Don't be sorry. It's not the worst accusation I've ever faced. Not by a long shot in fact." His eyes were deadly serious while his lips fought to maintain a relaxed half smile. "But, since you do walk home so often, I was wondering if you would be all right with my driving you home at night. It's really not safe to walk by yourself. Especially at night."

"You're obviously not from around here," I scoffed. "There isn't much crime in Burlington." I purposefully forgot the night before for the duration of this conversation. No boogieman after me, no sir. I shrugged off his offer as I motioned to the two canisters we needed. He grabbed one in each hand before I could reach them. Nice.

"Maybe so, but that doesn't make it safe for you to walk home alone. Just remember the offers open anytime. In fact, I would like it actually. Just think about it." All I could do was sigh as I held the door open for him.

As we were all closing up, Neesa pulled me aside to talk. "So what's up with hottie boy starting here anyway?" Even after talking to him, I wasn't sure of the answer. So I just shrugged.

Neesa's brow rose as she looked over at him from across the room. Let me tell you it was a strange sight to see a guy like him mopping a floor.

"Did you know he only came in on nights you worked? Hm. Well anyway, momma said she could see you tomorrow. She's closing the store so it will just be the three of us." This was typically something that would excite Neesa to no end so her timid smile made me nervous.

"He- um- I mean, she really doesn't have to close the store on my account. It's not important really. I mean no offence, Nees, but I don't really believe in this stuff... all too much, anyway."

The look upon her face was riddled with fear, her brow creased with worry. Though she did her best to replace it quickly with a smile, it was so forced that it made her look queasy.

"I will pick you up at nine, okay?" It was my turn to grimace. Of course I would be awake I just didn't like going out so early. "Okay?" she pressed again.

Nodding, I gave a small smile of submission. I had the day off anyway. The comment about Damien was surprising, though all I could do was store it away for later evaluation.

As I was leaving, Damien made another attempt at offering me a ride home. Declining, I shook my head, setting off walking. As I was making my way around to the front, I heard our bartender, John Reed, speaking to him, "Forget her, man, she ain't worth the time. Trust me, that chick is psycho," that was all I heard thankfully. As I walked, their voices faded to nothing.

The walk home was eerily quiet with every store, restaurant, and business closed at the late hour. The only lights were the streetlamps that blotted out the stars, leaving only the moon.

I was left to walk in peace accompanied by only my thoughts. John was a jerk. I knew that. It still got to me. Most of my thoughts swirled around him, and our brief history. John had been working at Riads for a month. He was good, but he was a prick who hated my guts as much as Carrie did. In light of no better phrase with my current mood, he's a man-whore. Then again, I was feeling bitter.

Switch gears. Damien. Would he listen to John? Maybe. Did I want him to? Honestly, no. Why did I turn him down then? I'm not really shy at all even though I am kind of quiet. I liked him, but he worked with me. That's a big rule- Don't date a co-worker if you don't want to work with an ex. Uhg. All of this was too frustrating. Next.

Neesa was paranoid, weird, fruity even. As much as I loved her, I just couldn't fall into believing all this hoodoo voodoo. She'd kill me if she heard me say that. Did I believe that about her? No. Did I believe her? No? Arg, next.

Finals were in two weeks. Nothing too terrible. I've been a student at Champlain going on two years. Some semesters I went to the actual school for classes. I tried to avoid it when possible. The year's online education consisted of the completion of my BA in Liberal arts. Study group was meeting online this week because Jenny had the flu. Computers don't catch flu bugs. I thought about school the rest of the walk home.

Nothing happened on the way home. I didn't see a single car. Didn't even see anyone I knew. No one bothered me or talked to me. Once home, I didn't waste a minute before flipping on all the lights while heading for my small pantry closet I used solely to store all my art supplies. My aversion to bright light was always put on the back burner when I worked on my art.

Before long, all my furniture was pushed against the walls. Boxes of chalk scattered the floor around a mural-sized canvas. My radio, finally plugged back in, played Shaman's Harvest loudly though not deafening as I sang off key to the words. I sat on my knees once again back in my usual night clothes of comfortable tank tops paired with Capri yoga pants, soon to be covered with smudges of chalk.

Never were my hands so steady as when they held a brush, chalk, pencil or even a mound of raw clay. I worked until the dawn began to crack through the midnight darkness into a pale grey. Until my hands ached from holding the chalks just so, causing them to cramp. I wouldn't stop until my body trembled from exhaustion. My knees were raw, and stiff from kneeling for hours on the cold wooden floor.

Hours had passed before I finally decided I was done. Not just physically, but with the piece itself. Slowly pulling myself to my feet, I left everything scattered as it lay only to fall into my cool bed, into instant sleep. Instant hell.

Neesa showed up at nine sharp the next morning. "Wow, Anna. I'm sorry, but you really do look like hell in the mornings." As she laughed I sneered at her comment before downing my Red Bull.

"Now you know why I stay inside until ten most days." I was dressed in a black shirt with white wings across the back shoulders, plus my favorite blue jeans all ripped up with a bleach stain on the right thigh. My hair pulled up into a tight sloppy half bun. Cute but spunky. So I knew it wasn't how I was dressed, but more the sullen look set off by blue bags under my eyes. Skipping makeup obviously had been the wrong choice. Oh well.

"Doesn't matter. Come on let's get going. I have fresh blueberry muffins from Penny's in the car for us, and a super-sized hazelnut frappe with your name on it." With a yawn of obedience, I first walked to my fridge, grabbing two more Red Bulls, stashing one in my bag while popping the other open as I followed Neesa down stairs, out to her car. It was gone before I opened the passenger side door.

Only once before had I met Neesa's mother, Adélia. Her skin was bronze. Her eyes looked like that dark African rosewood with black and silver hair wound in big looping curls down to her tailbone. The subtle strands of silver looked as if a professional had strategically placed them to make her even more beautiful.

If Neesa reminded me of a Gypsy from a fairy tale then her mother was one. She even dressed the part.

In fact, she's the one who started my interest in making jewelry the year before.

The name of her store was Wildflower. For its kind, it was the biggest in the state. It was like a new age super market. There was everything from a candle making station to a stone room filled with almost every type of rock or gem known to man. Even raw diamonds.

The book section was more or less a library for its vast selection. The jewelry section was as big as an upscale jewelry store. Some of it was just as expensive. Of course, there were also herbs both fresh and dried. To the right there was a door leading to a health food market. It, too, was packed with vitamins and extracts. In another section hung clothes, tapestries, and art of every kind from little figurines to artfully crafted furniture. Neesa had begged me to put some of mine up for sell, but I'd always said no.

Basically, if it was ever considered new age, hippy or somehow associated with craft work or whatever you so choose to call it, it could be found at Wildflower. She even had cauldrons. I didn't ask about those.

Aside from the fact it seemed awkward to have so much attention directed at me this was the primary reason why I felt guilty for her closing the store. It was always busy when it was open. Closing it cost her money, however there was no use in arguing now.

As we pulled up to the Wildflower, Adélia was already waiting for us outside. Dressed much the same as when I last saw her, with a vanilla cream skirt flowing over her bare feet, a matching cream-colored top with a sheer ivory shawl wrap around her shoulders. As before, she was covered in gold jewelry from her big golden hoops, her many necklaces to her fingers covered in beautiful golden rings. Her skin was a mirroring of her daughters. Caramel, rich and dark. The only inkling of her age was her hair was showing brilliant silver locks mingled in with the ebony strands flowing to her hips.

"Neesa," she spoke her daughter's name with so much reverence that it rang in an almost musical melody.

"Momma." Neesa seemed like an excited child as she hugged her mother fiercely. "Momma, you remember Lianna."

As their hug broke, Neesa's mother turned taking me into her arms as warm as she would her daughter. "Of course. Lianna, it's wonderful to see you again. Both of you please do come in."

Instead of pulling away, she wrapped an arm around both our shoulders as she ushered us inside the open door before turning from us to lock it. "It's just us today. Please do realize this may very well take up most of your day, Lianna."

"That's all right." My eyes roamed the store as she led us to a door in back. Music filtered through unseen speakers throughout the entire store. That calming whimsical type of music with flutes, and what sounded like a harp. Past it, a hall. On either side down the hall were three doors. This part of the store I had not yet seen.

Adélia had a set of keys I hadn't noticed before, unlocking the first door before leading us to another, unlocking it as well to lead us into an office. Aside from a usual desk-set equipped with computer, there was a couch, coffee table, and two large chairs. The same music played in here as well, though it was quieter.

"Neesa has filled me in on your last reading. Just have a seat on the couch, dear. Neesa child, be a blessing and bring us some tea." I sat where I was told, balanced on just the edge of the couch.

Neesa disappeared out of a different door while Adélia sat on the couch, turned toward me. Taking my hands in hers, she studied them as if they were a complicated map. She studied every pore from the back of my hand to the tips of my fingers, and palms, too. I didn't know what to say so it was quiet until Neesa returned with a big silver tray loaded with a real silver tea set.

"Your hands are quite cold," Adélia commented as Neesa returned looking nervous, yet excited all at once. She set the tray down before curling up in a big wingback chair across from us.

"Um, sorry. Must have been from holding the frappe."

Adélia continued to turn my hands about in hers for a little while longer, in utter silence. After a moment, she shook her head, looking up at me. She still held my hands in hers, though now it was a gesture of comfort.

"I wish it would have been caused by that. My dear, your coldness comes from inside. Now look up at me. Let me see your eyes." Releasing my hands, she took a gentle hold on my chin as she looked into my eyes as if she were searching for something.

As sweet and dreamlike as Adélia was in her Gypsy wonder, she made me strangely uncomfortable. It felt like I was being studied way too closely while being naked. It was difficult to have someone looking at you in such a way while you did your best to avoid eye contact.

"Hm. You don't meditate." Obviously, she wasn't asking so I didn't answer.

"We'll do a more thorough reading today, but first some deep trance meditation so we can open you up. Usually, for a beginner, trance is difficult to achieve, you see. With proper care and guidance it shouldn't be a problem though. You relax here. Just drink your tea. Neesa dear, will you help me prepare her room?"

"Of course, momma." They left together moments later, leaving me alone to my thoughts, which were definitely on edge.

Trance? The only thing I knew about trance was the pictures of people in India with a musical instrument lulling a cobra, and that stuff called trance techno. I had a feeling she meant something else entirely. I hoped.

By the time I finished one cup of tea Neesa came into the room to get me. "Momma's ready." Following Neesa out into the hall to another room, she opened a door at the far end, ushering me inside.

It was a small room with nothing but a big massage table covered in a very large white cloth. The room was painted a nice lavender. Lining each wall, halfway up, was a long wide shelf fully loaded with white candles, and small bowls burning homemade incense.

On the bed lay a folded sheet with a dress lying across it. "Change into the dress, and just put your clothes under the table. Momma will be back in just a moment. Oh, no bra either."

My brows rose when she shut the door. I was at a loss of what to think of all this. The dress was a simple white knee-length spaghetti strap. After redressing as she instructed, I sat on the bed feeling like I was waiting in a doctor's office. The table was soft suede like material, not covered in cold paper.

Not long later, Adélia knocked on the door before coming in. Hmm, just like doctors. "Wonderful, you are ready. Lie down on your back." She picked up the sheet as I lay back. Sliding it over me up to my neck once I was comfortable. "How's the incense for you?"

"It smells really good." It wasn't over bearing or overly fragrant or even very smoky.

"Good. It's sage with jasmine. They are my favorites," as she spoke, she stood over me with a wooden bowl in one hand.

"Science has proven that every stone in the world transmits energy from the universe. People know this because every stone puts out sonic vibrations. The intensity of these vibrations varies with each type of stone. I'm going to place special stones chosen just for you over your seven Chakras. Are you familiar with the Chakras?"

I shrugged faintly. A knowing smile spread over her lips. "How did you know what stones to choose?" Skeptical yes, but I was still curious about it all.

"Neesa chose them, not me. I simply cleansed them. I'll explain as we go, all right?" Holding up a stone in her fingers for me to see, I studied its magnificent coloring. It looked like a picture of a nebula I had seen in college for it was so filled with colors.

"This stone is an Opal. It intensifies emotions, power, and luck. It also helps with purification of memory. Often it is called the stone of happy dreams, and changes. I will place this on the bed just above your head at the Crown chakra. It's the seventh chakra. It is the center of spirituality, enlightenment, dynamic thought, and energy. It allows for the inward flow of wisdom, bringing the gift of cosmic consciousness." She settled the stone on the table, above my head just against my hair.

The next stone was quite true to its name, black with white speckles that looked like large snowflakes. "This is snowflake obsidian. Mostly it is used for spiritual guidance." Adélia paused as if pondering to what more she should say.

"I will place this over your sixth chakra, over your third eye in the center of your forehead. This is the center for psychic ability, higher intuition. Energies of the spirit, and light. It also assists in the purification of negative tendencies, and in the elimination of selfish attitudes. Through the power of the sixth chakra you can receive guidance plus channel into your Higher Self." Surprisingly the stone was quite cold. For some reason, I had expected them to be warm.

"This one is hematite." She showed me the third stone, simple black, though quite shiny.

"Most commonly it is used for spiritual growth. I will place this on your throat chakra at the base of your neck," she did so as she spoke. It, too, was quite cool.

"This chakra is the center of communication, sound, and expression of creativity. The possibilities for change, transformation, even healing, are located here. The throat is where anger and discernment is stored."

"Next is mahogany obsidian. It helps eliminate energy blocks. I will place this on your heart charka. A place not only representing love, but acceptance as well as self-control." She placed the deep brick red stone swirled with black in the center of my chest.

"Also, you may like to know when the energy of your heart chakra, or your fourth chakra, is blocked it can cause great duress as well as severe insomnia." Despite trying to remain still, I flinched, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth lightly. As she had set the stone down against the sheet on top of me, I had felt a sharp jab where the stone set.

"This is rhyolite. Representing change, variety, progress, it helps you break through barriers of the mind. It can help you discover your self-potential. It is well known for being a stone of resolution. I shall place this on your third chakra known as the solar plexus. Representing intellect, plus self-confidence." She laid the rusty red stone speckled with white and black just a couple of inches below the one before.

"Moonstone- this represents new beginnings. Guidance to our destinies, aiding in understanding, cleansing negativity. I shall place it over your sacral charka. It represents our feelings in social situations, self-worth, and intimacy."

Moonstone was beautiful, too. Iridescent white, gleaming hues of blues, pinks, and greens. It was placed just a few inches below the last.

"This last stone is amber. Cleansing negativity, it converts all negative energy to positive, bringing clarification. This will be placed over your root charka- the first of the chakras. This is our core for survival. It houses all of our security issues." Like rich honey frozen in form, though clear, and smooth. She placed it over my pelvic bone.

"Now turn your palms up to the heavens. Our palm's placed up allows us to absorb energy into us. It makes us open to accept the gifts of the universe. Because human beings, as well as all things in this world, are constructed of pure energy this is a great method of powering ourselves. Imagine a great magnet drawing in not just energy, but the very essence of the universe. Remember thoughts are much like requests to the universe. Think good things, good things will come. Think bad things, bad things will come.

"Don't worry. This meditation is purely to cleanse your mind, and body in the fullest. I will guide you through the beginnings of your meditation. Once you enter deep trance meditation I will leave you to yourself." Her smile was soft, soothing as her fingers began moving from one stone to the next as if she were somehow connecting them with an invisible string.

"Close your eyes. Feel the warmth from the light of the candles, then energy of the stones. This warmth floods your body with tranquility. Breathe in the incense slow, and deep."

She mimicked the breathing. "Let the smell of the burning sage, and jasmine travel through you, easing your mind. As you breathe out let all your anxiety flow out of you with each breath..."

Her voice continued to guide me through the same breathing steps until it faded away. All I could hear was the sound of my breathing. Time slipped away from me. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. Of course, the dreams came on quickly. Once again, I was transformed into the other girl. So I thought at least.

In the middle of a thick magnificent jungle, huge trees that were draped in the brightest hues of green grew densely. Ivy hung all around as if a web were connecting all forms of plant life. Flowers grew everywhere in all colors, and sizes. Some were bigger than my entire body even.

The strangest part of this place was the jungle floor. There was no dead vegetation covering the ground. Anywhere plants did not grow the earth was covered in pure white sand. Beneath my bare feet it felt soft as baby powder. I stood in a very small clearing. Before me there was a small hole dug, set up as a fire pit. In it a fire burned there already, aside from red, and yellow, it burned a pure magnificent white.

Kneeling down before the small fire, I reached to my right where clusters of wooden bowls were laid out, each containing something different. Red powders, white ones, yellow grains, and iridescent blue beady looking things- one contained a thick red liquid. The one beside it held a lock of long human hair that was dark, ashy brown.

While chanting words unknown to me, I threw different amounts of all the various things into the fire. To my left was a beautifully hand carved blade. Picking it up, I sliced my left palm deeply without hesitation or even a wince of pain as I mixed my blood with the bowl of red liquid. Mentally, I registered this as blood, too.

Taking the knife, I cut a large lock of my own hair, braiding it in with the other. I poured some of the blood over the braid. All the while I was engrossed with the chant whilst placing the hair into the fire. At long last, I picked up the bowl drinking down the rest of the blood myself without so much as a scoff.

As I looked up to see across from me, leaning against a tree was a very crudely made mirror. Its reflection was wavering, but what I saw was shocking. In every dream from before, I was an entirely different person. However, the mirror image was me. Really me, Lianna. Not the girl from the dream who spoke a language I had never been able to place or even understand.

Even after twelve years of studying different languages, I had never identified it.

Never once had I been aware of my real self either. I looked away from the mirror down at her hands confused to see tan skin covered in exotic painted tattoos, and worn homemade jewelry. Everything from silver to leather all uniquely decorated in beads, and jewels. Hair hanging down past her waist was straight raven black.

Looking down at the clothing, she had sheer vanilla cloth wrapped around her hips in a very short mini skirt fashion. Over her breast the same material barely covered much at all. As well, the same tattoos marked her body head to toe.

Instantly, I looked back at the mirror to see pale skin, framed with auburn hair hanging halfway to the elbows. We wore the same clothing, and jewelry, minus her tattoos. Mine was clearly seen in the mirror still.

Every feature in the mirror was my own, yet every feature of the woman in the jungle was someone else's. Somehow we were both here together. Our consciousness' coexisting as one, though neither of us could understand the other.

Ohhh let me tell you it's a strange feeling having someone share your head.

After a few minutes of sitting, wondering how I could communicate with her, she reached with her left hand to gather up a good deal of sand, using it to put out the fire.

In the same instant, I woke up alone back in the room in the Wildflower. It was dark though. The candles had burned out. It didn't bother me. I was very used to the dark. What bothered me was the taste of blood in my mouth with no feel of pain. A quick inspection with my tongue. No busted lip. No bitten cheek or tongue. I shivered.

"Neesa!" I yelled, wondering if I could take the stones off myself or not. I wasn't going to give her a second more than a minute before taking them off, and getting out of here. Just an instant after that thought, the door opened spilling light into the room.

"Hey, Anna." Neesa stood in the door flipping the light on. Thankfully, the light was very dim, yet it still caused me to squint as my eyes adjusted. "Sorry. Least it's not too bright though. How do you feel?"

Shrugging to evade her question, in turn I asked another one, "How long has it been?"

"Two hours. Anna... there's-- you've got blood on your mouth, sis. Are you okay?" Her eyes were wide with worry. Just as they had been during the reading she'd given me.

Cleaning my mouth off with the back of my hand, I gave a slight nod. "Help me up." Strangely, I hadn't budged an inch. Even my hands were palm up I realized.

Neesa quickly came to my side, removing the stones, placing them into a small bowl left on the shelf with the candles. Once she was done, I sat up slowly to make sure I didn't get dizzy. Surprisingly, no feeling of vertigo came over me. I wasn't even stiff from laying in such a way for so long.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. I'll be waiting for you in the hall. Momma's ready for you in the reading room." Somehow, I bet she didn't mean books.

"All right." With that she left with the bowl of stones, shutting the door.

The next two weeks went by rapidly. When someone tried to speak to me at work, suddenly I would become too busy to talk. One horrible night I'd gotten into an awful fight with Carrie in the back storeroom. John got himself involved. He followed me out that night as I left for home. It was two blocks before I stopped hearing footsteps.

Mostly I didn't answer my cell phone, though when I did it was to answer calls from classmates needing help with one thing or another or to reschedule a study session. We'd all agreed to stick to the online sessions for a while. It wasn't the flu affecting Jenny. I didn't ask what it was, but I wished her well. I sent an e-card, and ordered flowers online to be sent.

Work was the hardest of course. It was very easy to keep busy on our heavier workdays, however on slower evenings it was very nearly hell. Neesa was the one most concerned or at least the one who was freaked out because she knew the reason for my silence.

"Anna, you have got to talk to me! You haven't said more than two words to me since we left my momma's place two weeks ago!" She grabbed onto my arm begging me with her eyes. Her full mocha painted lips trembled, ready to cry. Again. Call me heartless, but I felt no sympathy for her.

"Neesa, I'm fine, really. Now please just drop it already." It came across harsh as frostbite, but it couldn't be helped any longer. Smiling as big and fake as ever, I left Neesa staring after me as I took off with a pitcher of water around the tables.

As I tried to duck into the servers station Carrie came busting through, bumping into me. She dumped the remains of the pitcher all over me, the counter, and the floor. "Watch it, creeper!" she hissed in a rage while pushing past me to get to the bar. John snickered as he watched. Carrie was smug with satisfaction.

It was the first time I had ever felt as if my anger were a living breathing organism within me, not just a part of who I was. My eyes clinched shut as I took a deep breath to fight the rage that had boiled up so suddenly out of nowhere.

My hands were shaking as I put the pitcher down on the counter. Of course, there were no towels in sight either. So I took off my half soaked apron, making an attempt to stop the water flowing from the counter creating a steady stream to the floor, all while scraping ice cubes into the sink.

Without my realizing anyone else had even seen the display, Damien came up behind me armed with some fresh white towels, helping me mop up the mess- in silence thankfully. Neesa hadn't been the only person I had put off speaking to at work.

We had only spoken as trainee and trainer in the last several weeks. Even that was fairly minimal considering he was too damned good at the job. Of course, every night we left work he would stand at his open passenger door waiting for me. Every night I walked past him in the back parking lot on my way down to the sidewalk without a word or glance in his direction. I knew he had followed me to my block the night Carrie and I had gotten into it. I ignored him, and John both.

He seemed to excel more at this job than anyone else did, never making a single error on an order or dropping anything. He was faster than any of us.

In fact last week, Rachel had a tray filled with glasses. She tripped over the servers' mat when the corner was flipped up. She's nearly as accident prone as I am. Damien caught her, and the tray. Not a single thing fell.

When he wasn't busy he was behind the bar boosting John's tips to an ample sum. John didn't even offer to split them as far as I knew.

Once the counter and floor were dried up, I reached for two glasses, filling them with ice before I moved them to the soda fountain. Usually I could hold three glasses in the palm of my hand, filling each one with a different soda at once, however as I attempted the task for just two glasses both of them fell, one hit the counter. The other bounced to the floor, shattering as it sent sticky sweet soda, ice, and glass everywhere. I nearly kicked the stainless steel. Hell, I nearly screamed.

With my hands still shaking, I braced myself against the sterling counter, clinching my eyes shut. Under my breath I cursed in every language I knew while biting hard enough onto my lip to break the healed split back open.

For the record, I speak French, Spanish, Russian, and Italian. Every one of them was used now, especially the Russian. Thanks Babushka.

I was ready to scream and cry all at once. It had been so many years since I had last cried, I wasn't about to start doing so here at work or in front of Damien no less. "Anna, it's all right I got it. Go take a break." Damien grunted with more than a little annoyance in his tone. It wasn't surprising he found the double mess irritating, but I couldn't help it. What did it matter if he thought of me as an idiot now?

"Okay. Table five, section two. They're for Rachel." Yes, I should have thanked him at some point there, but I didn't. All I could do was walk out the back, my feet dragging me all the way. As I was passing the office I saw Mike through the cracked door.

With just a brief hesitation, I turned to open the door, leaning on the frame. "Mike, we're dead slow. I don't have any tables. Do you mind if I head home? I have another headache."

Mike glanced to the clock on his desk, then the reservation book to his left without once looking up to me, thank goodness. I could feel my eyes getting puffy. In fact I was certain they were red rimmed already. "Yeah. That's fine, Anna. Enjoy your weekend. Feel better."

With a quiet sigh of relief, and a silent prayer to no one in particular, I shut the office door softly, turning for the back door. A promising glowing exit sign glared above it as if lighting my way to freedom.

"Everything all right?" Damien spoke from behind me, leaning on a wall near the kitchen. I didn't plan to answer him. I told myself in rapid unison to not look at him either. Just give a nod then walk out before my hammering heart could stop me. Somehow, I knew that man had more than the capability of breaking my resolve. "She's just worried, Anna... She doesn't want to lose you."

"All due respect, Damien, you've no idea what you're talking about. So just stay out of my business," a steely iciness forced its way into my words. The second my hand touched the back door to push it open Neesa burst into the room. Damien was wise enough not to say anything. Although he didn't leave either.

"Anna, don't leave! Please just talk to me! Can I at least come over later?" she called after me while I walked outside leaving her yelling at a closed door.

Not two steps away from Riads, an explosive clack of thunder startled me enough to give a sharp gasp. Working to compose myself quickly, I paused, waiting to see the lightning follow. I counted to see how long till the rain came. Rather than seeing the lightning, someone grabbed hold of my arm.

Instantly jerking around ready to kick the hell out of someone, I froze seeing Damien. "What are you doing out here?" Even though I wanted to, I couldn't pull away from him. His grip was gentle, but sure. He wasn't going to let me go.

"Walk with me." He stared down at me with eyes that gave me more chills than a winter's harsh breeze. I let the silence linger between us for what felt like decades.

"Please?" I don't know if it was the understanding look in his eye or the touch from his cold hand that sent simultaneous chills while warming me from the inside out. Maybe the fact that for once he didn't look at all amused, but I couldn't say no.

"It's going to rain. You'll get wet," feebly I argued against him. As if my feet were filled with magnets, I unconsciously moved closer to him.

"So? You like it. Don't you." It wasn't a question. So I didn't answer him. If he really didn't mind the rain then that was fine by me. With his hand still on my arm, he tugged me another step closer. "Walk with me."

With a nod of my consent, he turned me, keeping our pace slow and steady. His hand on my arm hesitated before sliding down to wrap around my hand snugly. His hands were cold, yet firm, and strong. It felt intoxicatingly good. Like a cold fire had wrapped me up that would never let go. At least I wished it wouldn't.

Just after eight at night, the sky was nearly black as we walked down the sidewalk together. My mind felt sluggish. I couldn't remember the last time I slept more than two hours solid or even in a night. This was the first time I had been alone with Damien since a couple of weeks ago in the office.

"How did you leave work so quick?" I couldn't help but ask seeing as he followed me out just seconds after I left.

"Same way you did. Actually I was clocked out before I found you in the server station." He shrugged off the excuse.

He'd stayed to help me after it was time for him to leave. "I never said thank you. Now I also owe you an apology it seems," my voice was still hoarse from the knot in my throat I'd had earlier.

A sniggering snort rumbled from his lips. "Pfft. You owe me nothing," he dismissed my comment easily.

My brows rose in question of the noise. "Did you just snort?" I looked up at him with merely a mock of my usual sarcasm.

"Maybe." He stopped walking, leaning closer to my ear before making a true blue piggy snort sound against my neck. The sound combined with such a serious expression sent me straight into a burst of laughter. Albeit a little hysterical.

"Okay." Clearing my throat to collect myself, I stopped the near frenzied laughter. "So why did you follow me out here? To ask me to go on a walk with you? In the rain no less?" as I spoke, mist seemed to swirl around us. Almost as if the weather had yet to decide on just what it felt like doing.

"Why not?" He took a step pulling me along with him to get me to start walking again.

"You're unusual, Mr. D'Tera," I spoke in a near mumble before sucking my bottom lip into my mouth to hide the smile trying to sneak up on my lips. His brow rose as he shot me a mock threatening look. "Mr. Damien, no middle initial listed on driver's license, D'Tera." I grinned.

He chuckled. "So I've been told. Don't worry. You're not so normal yourself, Miss Lianna Loraine Von. Now quit biting that lip, it's too pretty for you to chew it off," he said it just to tell me he knew more about me than I'd realized. Again, he left me wide eyed with surprise, and uneasy in my confusion. Also, I quit chewing on my lip- for the time being anyway.

We were walking down the street to the pier when another clack of thunder bellowed through the sky making me jump again.

Damien chuckled slightly, pulling me closer. He let go of my hand only to wrap his long arm around my shoulders, keeping me held flush against his side. "Funny, you don't seem the type to be afraid of thunder." Looking down to me, Damien's grin spread mockingly as we walked.

"I'm not. Okay well I'm not usually. Just been a rough couple weeks. I guess I'm a little jumpy." Looking up at him with the beginnings of a defensive scowl, the hard expression melted as he looked back in a way that stripped away all my defenses as easily as could be.

He sighed. "Tell me about it." I shrugged, unwilling to give the story of my frightening tarot readings, and even more horrifying dreams. He saw the flash in my eyes before I could look away. "You can you know. When you're ready." We walked on in silence for a little while longer.

Adélia's reading had been no better than the first. She used twice the cards. I think that had made it twice as bad. The disturbing part was every card Neesa had pulled so had Adélia.

Never would I forget the look on Neesa's face, certain she was seeing her friends final days splayed out on the table. Adélia looked on at me with a question of fear in her eyes, which if spoken aloud would have no doubt brought the tears spilling from Neesa's. Call me crazy. I think Adélia was afraid of me.

Suddenly, Damien left the sidewalk and street all together, pulling me with him all the way though exchanging his hold back to my hand. We walked on in silence. He pulled me under a big tree, its large branches hung protectively over a small stone bench near the docks. His hand waived gallantly at the bench as he winked. Unable to help myself, I laughed while sitting across from him.

We sat there quietly. Maybe neither of us knew what to say or perhaps he was still waiting for an answer. My mouth opened to say something the very second I heard the rain attack the tree covering us.

In that moment, the humidity heightened the smells of the docks. The smell of fresh rainwater mixed with the smell of the ocean. Wet stone. The wet wooden planks of the docks. Even the scent of bark from the tree with its budding white flowers in the evening air.

It wouldn't take more than a second for the water to slip over the leaves, reaching us. My chin lift as my eyes closed in anticipation. The first drops of rain were like warm bath water. I loved rain in Vermont. The first few moments were always the warmest.

Time nearly stopped. Neither of us moved. Water splashed on my forehead, my nose, and hit my cheekbones before running to drip down my chin, streaming down my neck. A drop of water hung on my lash as I opened my eyes. Damien was staring at me with an indescribable expression.

Slowly Damien wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. My head lay against his chest as he laid his chin atop my head. His fingers trailed up my neck to my cheek. Taking a lock of hair, he pulled the strands from my cheek to tuck them behind my ear. A chill ran down my spine to feel his fingers linger on my neck, dragging back and forth over a small scar on my collarbone from a childhood accident.

Pulling back, I looked up to him. A million questions danced on the tip of my tongue. His eyes stopped me dead in my tracks. Wasn't it always something with him?

For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Only half of me was sure I wanted him to. The other half was the skeptic. It kept saying that this couldn't be happening. Not to me.

Or worse. Maybe this was some sort of sick joke. Then again, maybe I was the sick one. No one normal felt so compelled to someone else. Not like this. No one normal was anything like me. However, he already mentioned that. So why was he here? Did we really know each other well enough for this? No. Though it felt like we did. I'd known him for six months, yet knew little more about him than information on a piece of plastic and that he'd never known his parents, though I didn't even know why that was. My mind flew through these thoughts in milliseconds.

While I was still contemplating my fate, if it was a demise or fairy tale, his hand slid up from my neck to cup against my cheek. The rain still drizzled down heavily onto us both, making streams of cool water run down Damien's face to drip off his eyelashes. It splashed off his nose, beading on the small hairs of his thin beard.

Damien's lips pressed firmly against my forehead for a long moment. As he pulled away just slightly, I felt his nose brush mine as he leaned down, his forehead pressed to mine. "Is um- is this okay?" his voice shook with a nervous laugh.

"I dunno... You tell me." He gave a halfhearted laugh at my mocking response from something he'd said to me once before. His nose trailed down mine then brushed my cheek until his lips hovered over mine. His hands slid around my waist, squeezing me close.

The skeptic went right out the window.

My body instantly responded as if a bolt of electricity had shot through me. In the next second, I was in his lap with my arms around his neck. Our lips crashed into each other's so abruptly it felt sort of like bumping into a rock with my mouth. An amazing kissing rock though, nonetheless.

His body responded just the same as mine did, though only after mine had. His fingers slid slowly under my shirt up my back hungrily while his mouth melted into mine.

This wasn't my first kiss, though it sort of felt like it was. It was nothing like kissing anyone else had ever been. This was explosive. Anything else in my history more or less would become comparative to kissing my brother. If after this I would be able to remember any other kiss. Doubt it.

Honestly, I have no idea how long it lasted. Could have been days, I don't think either of us would have noticed. Eventually though it did end as all things in life tend to do.

"Told you, you'd get wet." Curled in his lap my head lay on his shoulder as I studied the features of his face. There was something different about him.

"Trust me when I say that's the furthest thing from my mind," he spoke with a slight laugh.

"I won't ask." He chuckled again at my response as he slowly slid me off him to help me stand. Immediately he stood with me. His arms kept wrapped around me as if he were reluctant to let go.

My eyes closed as I turned from him, lifting my face to the sky, letting the rain wash over my warm cheeks. I could nearly feel the steam rise from them. Just before I started walking, I opened my eyes to catch him staring at me once more. Without a word, we began to move again.

The rain had lightened only a little as we finally made our way back to Riads. They would be closing soon.

"I can get the Jeep if you're tired of walking in the rain." We stopped at the entrance to the parking lot. Looking down at our hands that were interlocked still, I shook my head slowly pulling my fingers from his.

"No, I need to walk. But you should go home. It's a long walk to make there and back. No telling when the rain will stop." My arms hugged my body protectively.

Damien's eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment before sliding his arm around my waist to walk with me. "I'd rather stay with you if that's all right." Persistent.

The feeling of pessimism was taking over again. "Why?" Shrugging helplessly, I turned to look up at him, his hand moving to the small of my back.

"Why not? Would you rather I didn't?" His brow rose in question as his eyes narrowed. He acted as if the idea caused him pain, though to counter it his lips pulled up just slightly.

In spite of myself, I laughed bitterly. "John said I wasn't worth it."

"John Reed is an idiot." Damien scowled for the briefest second before his features lightened at the slight touch of sarcastic humor. "For which I'm rather grateful. If he had half a brain, he'd be the one begging to walk you home. Would you rather it be him?" His brow arched as a grim look washed over his face.

"Now if you think that, then you're the idiot." My eyes rolled.

"Good to know. So I can walk you home?"

"No." It was funny yet surprising to see the disappointment wash over him. "You can drive me. It's not fair to make you walk in the rain so much."

He smiled, pulling me closer to him, both hands held me to him as he nestled down into the crook of my neck again. Breathing me in just as I nuzzled up slightly into his collarbone.

His cool lips brushed my ear. "You have no idea how far I would walk even in a hurricane, for you." Damien lingered as he kissed my cheek.

When Damien pulled into my driveway, it was still raining. For the whole drive I had been wondering how to invite him up without it going anywhere. Honestly, I just wanted to talk to him. It was just so nice to be near him.

Peaceful- Relaxing- Warm- Comfortable. There were so many words, yet they didn't quite seem like enough to make anyone let alone myself understand the feelings he brought on. He didn't have anything to do with all the freaky proverbial crap in my life. It felt safe with him, yet at the same time it wasn't safe at all for a world of reasons that I couldn't grasp hold of.

"All right look." Sighing deeply, I really had to focus to keep from biting my lip. "You really have no idea just how shitty the last two weeks have been for me. I don't want to give you the wrong idea or, or scare you off, and I'm not asking to vent! But-" My free hand was talking along with my mouth. When I get nervous I turn into one of those people. Yeah. That's me. We all have our own little quirks. I just have a lot.

His brow was perked curiously as he looked at our joined hands, watching my fingers twitch. "Well anyway what I'm trying to ask-" I took a breath to collect myself. "Do you want to come upstairs considering the risks of me rambling like an idiot for a little bit?"

He didn't say a single word for the next minute. Literally. I was watching the clock on his dashboard. Finally I broke under the pressure, pulling my hand from his. "Okay, I'm sorry just uh, forget about that. It's no big deal really... Okay. So yeah, I guess I should get going." My thumb pointed to the building, taping his window faintly.

Streaks of water ran so quickly down the glass I could barely see through it. Frustrated with my own stupidity, I shook my head looking down at my feet. Really, I just hoped I didn't fall on my face again. This time, I'd be more careful. I'd fallen too much when it came to the likes of Damien. Just as I gripped the door handle he reached over grabbing my hand.

"I'm sorry." He chuckled lightly taking my hand again, pulling it to his mouth, kissing my chilled fingers. "I apologize. It's just sort of cute when you ramble. I like it. I was just waiting to see if you'd go on. What can I say other than it's a quirk. Yes, I would like to come up if the offer is still open."

"You're such an ass." I laughed in spite of myself. A part of me was just shocked I called him an ass. In the breath of a second, he pulled me across the Jeep into his lap.

"Am I? Terribly sorry you feel that way." He pulled my wet hair off my neck, and shoulder, nestling into the hollow of my throat. "You smell amazing in the rain you know." His lips lightly touched over my throat, holding there for a little while. It felt like his lips were quivering. It must have been me that was trembling.

It would have been perfect if I wouldn't have been freezing. Even he was really cold. Unfortunately he was making me chilled enough to shake. Just as I realized I was shaking, he noticed it, too. Popping his door open, he twisted me around so he could slide out while still holding me against him.

My shoes squeaked all the way up to my apartment noisily while Damien somehow managed without a sound. I had left my bag at home so I fished my lone apartment key out of my pocket to unlock the door.

My shaking hand stopped frozen, clutching the knob till my knuckles were white. Oh God no. He can't see what's in there! "Oh crap um..." My other hand banged my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Maybe this was a bad idea." My body turned to block the door defensively. I had completely forgotten the destruction zone my apartment was in at the time. My eyes clinched shut wondering how I could make him leave now without him asking any questions. One look at him told me that I couldn't. "Let's go somewhere else." My lip sucked in between my teeth. He stared on at me with a raised brow.

"Please." His eyes narrowed from the desperation staining my voice, "I haven't cleaned in like two weeks. It's really not pretty in there. It's not like dirty dishes, but it's still really bad." He stood there with silent expectation. "Jeeze! Okay, come in. Just remember I warned you. Just give me like two minutes first please? Then you can come in. Really. Just wait here." I pointed threateningly. His brow rose again as if to challenge. My finger jabbed the air near his chest. Stay!

Damien's brow remained high when I opened the door. Turning my back to him, I quickly ran around picking up my scattered laundry as fast as humanly possible.

Every night in the last week, I had woken up with nosebleeds, cuts, and blood in my mouth. Not just the usual trace amounts. I'd never had it this bad before. Mud and blood covered my sheets. Chalks and papers scattered the floor from my drawings haphazardly. Drawings of my nightmares. There were bloody footprints on some where I had run from the bed to the bathroom.

I had been wallowing in my own misery thus had not cleaned. With a load of bloody towels in one arm, I jerked my comforter over the bed to hide the bloodstained pillow. The black cotton was blotchy brown and crimson red. I'd nearly drowned in my own blood last night. Literally.

Damien stood just a couple steps inside my door. The light from the hall was all that illuminated the room. "Dear God, Anna. What the hell happened to you?" his dark tone startled me. His face was scrunched up as if he were painfully disturbed, and confused all at once. So obviously he had seen the mess.

"I know it's trashed, but... with work, and school, the cleaning just got away from me," my voice quaked. My face flushed hot as I ran over to my closet style washer, shoving in the armload of clothes.

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, clinching his eyes shut. "Forget the mess." He groaned with frustration. "Damn it," he muttered more, however I couldn't hear him. My hands were preoccupied with opening a bottle of peroxide, dropping the entire open bottle into the wash before slamming the lid down.

"Tell me what the bloods from." I had never heard anyone sound so strained. Gulping down on the formed lump in my throat, I quickly started the washer. Forget soap. I'd run it again later.

"It's nothing. Just forget you saw it," abrupt and hard, my voice trembled. My hands were shaking even harder than before, maybe harder than they had in my life. They balled to fists so tightly my nails dug crescents into my palms. "Maybe you should go. Come back when I'm not such a mess... I mean when my place isn't-"

Damien came up behind me, turning me to face him carefully, hands instantly cupping my cheeks forcing me to look at him. "The mess doesn't matter. Tell me what happened." His brow was still furrowed deeply as his fingers lightly held my chin so I would look at him. "Lianna. Please?" his voice was soft. Pleading.

Stuttering over myself, I nearly fell apart. There was no way I could explain without sounding nuts. My own parents made me see a psychoanalyst because of those dreams, right up until I moved out. Memories flashed through my head. My eyes shut briefly. Forget them, Anna! They left you! They're gone just forget them! I looked away from him swallowing the lump in my throat that felt like a bolder.

"I'm clumsy, that's all." I tried pulling away, though before I could get past his arm, Damien ensnared me around the waist, pulling me tight against him.

"Don't run from me, Anna. Just talk to me. I'm not going to get angry with you. You have got to trust me. Nothing you say or do could ever make me think less of you. I'm not going anywhere." He led me backwards, pulling me with him slowly to one of the chairs, pulling me down into his lap with his arms tight around me.

"It's going to sound stupid." My hands lay in my lap fidgeting.

"Nothing you could say to me would I ever believe is stupid. Please just tell me." One arm held snug around my waist, his other tangled into my wet hair.

My voice dropped to a whisper, "I have dreams. Only they're not dreams. People call them nightmares. Sometimes night terrors. When I wake up... I'm sometimes a little messed up. The last couple of weeks were-"

I froze on the last word so he finished it for me, "Rough. Yes, you said that."

"Yeah. I guess that's the only way to put it." It had been eight years since I last cried from emotion alone yet today I had been threatened by tears three times already.

"Explain 'messed up' for me." His hand in my hair gently tipped my head back to lie against him.

"My lips will be bloody. Sometimes my nose, too." Deep breath. Here's the bad part. "And... sometimes my hands or feet will be covered in mud, and cuts. All this week, when I wake in the mornings, my eyes look like they have been bleeding. This last week, every night... it's been all of the above. Often I wake up with dark red bruises, and streaks like I've been cut or whipped all over my body." In the dreams I had been. Almost intimately, I had felt every lash. My voice was trembling, "I nearly drowned in blood last night." If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't even sure if it had been my own.

I laughed hard, and bitter. "You probably don't believe me, I know. It's unbelievable. No one believes it. Well, now you're the only one in my life who knows how bad it really is."

Shit, why did I tell him all that?! He's never going to talk to me again. Oh my God what if he tells people at work? I'd have to quit. I couldn't hold in the single heavy tear that fell from my eye down my cheek. My head hung down. I'm so stupid.

"Please, please don't tell anyone," my voice shook with a horrified anger. Anger reserved just for me. Who could blame him?

His hands took hold of my shoulders, turning me to face him. Shame burned my flesh red. I turned my head away from him, looking down. I hated him seeing this. It was almost impossible to tolerate feeling it, but to have someone else witness was all the worse. "You're wrong."

He let me hide my face as his hand held against my cheek, thumb stroking the path of the tear. "I do believe you. Plus you have my word that I will never tell a soul your secrets." He turned my head gently, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I swear to you."

Slowly, I leaned into him. My head lay down on his shoulder. His arms wrapped me tight. No more tears escaped. We sat there like that quietly for a long time.

Absently, Damien ran a finger over a long white scar on my arm. "The scars aren't from the dreams. I really am prone to accidents." I stifled a fake hard laugh as I skirted hysterics. "The dreams are different. Those wounds heal within a few hours of waking up. It's like "Nightmare on Elm Street" or the "Exorcist" or some shit anyway."

"What are they like? The dreams?" He continued to hold me. His fingers ever so lightly traced my body nearly anywhere he could reach.

"Bloody... very, very bloody. Any more than that I don't really wanna say if it's okay." My body was still shaking, but it was a faint steady tremor.

Damien's hands seemed flustered before one balled into a fist as he let out a deep sigh. "Every night? For how long?" His brow was still furrowed as I looked up at him.

"For a very long time." My shoulders came up, before slumping down in a shrug to mask the bone-chilling shudder.

"No wonder you shake so much. Do you realize how much blood-" his voice trailed off, "How much do you sleep?" softening.

"It feels like never. But I guess maybe four hours a night at best. Not so much in the last couple of weeks. Two hours. A good night three. Sometimes I don't sleep at all."

Damien sighed as he laid his head back in the chair, gazing up at my ceiling. Sliding his hands around my stomach, he grabbed a piece of my shirt into each hand as they clenched into fists. Another shiver shook my body as I curled in closer to him. "All right get up. Go get some warm clothes on already." He lifted me up, setting me on my feet on the floor in one fluid movement without giving me time to argue.

He stood, too, walking to my window. Damien was pinching the bridge of his nose. He appeared to be muttering something to himself. I didn't ask. I could only assume he wanted to leave. At least I wanted to leave.

Quickly, I went to my closet. Grabbing a pair of black yoga pants with a black tank top, I walked to my bathroom to change as fast as possible. I left my clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor atop another bloody towel.

Damien had found the light switch, and had shut the apartment door before I'd finished. He'd returned to stand looking out the window. Did that mean he was staying? I hated to hope. "Oops. Sorry 'bout the light. I guess I forgot to flip it on for you. I'm just used to the dark."

Damien shrugged. He still looked frustrated though I saw his lips curl up into a dark humored smirk. "I'm not exactly afraid of the dark, Anna."

The room was filled with a thick awkwardness now. Damien watched me quietly for a long moment before turning his gaze on the mural sized canvas done in chalk.

Not sure of what else to do, I stood frozen in the middle of the room for a near minute before I went to sit on the edge of my bed. "So, now you know the extent of my abnormality for the most part." Making myself shrug as if it were no big deal, I forced a hard smile. Although in reality it was quite obvious as to how big of a deal it was.

His shoulders came up in a shrug. "The lights are a nice touch." Subject change. "And the floor décor." His lips twisted a bit. He didn't look down to follow my gaze to the scattered papers, and abandoned chalks.

Ah hell, I can't catch a break with you, can I? Sighing heavily I shrugged. It was like I'd given him pictures of my dreams. He knew more than enough now.

Oops. Oh well.

All I could do was nod as I let my gaze drift to look around at my icicle lights dangling down every wall from the ceiling. "Bright lights give me really bad headaches. So I don't use the overheads very often. Usually I just keep all the lights off. But I love these. They're soft."

"Yes. Very warm. I like them. The art's amazing though. Seriously. Is this supposed to be the tree of life? It's quite stunning." With his head, he motioned to the largest picture in the room. The one he'd been looking at before.

"Yes it is. Thank you. It's my favorite piece yet," my voice was low. Sadder than I meant it to be.

A perfectly detailed, elegantly peaceful landscape lit by the most brilliantly vivid red sunrise, lighting the world in a nearly pink glow. A lone tree stood strong. Wild limbs covered in small white and pink delicate flowers bearing a single piece of fruit. Petals lay upon the ground, some danced in an invisible wind. Its roots sprawling over through the earth while the river of time winds never-ending alongside. The symbol of fate created its curve.

"Anna, would you like for me to leave?" My eyes narrowed as he stared at me with an unfathomable expression.

"I would like a lot of things, but your leaving would not be on the list." My eyes averted from his, looking back to the hanging he'd asked about. "How'd you know it was the tree of life?"

"The single piece of fruit gave it away. The tree of life is said to bear only a single piece of fruit at a time. The river of time is said to run alongside it." Damien watched me closely from across the space between us. "Tell me the things you would like."

The fact that he knew the legend took me by surprise, though I said nothing of it. I thought for a moment before answering, "Peace of mind... To know a lot more about you. A full night sleep. To wake up not covered in blood. To erase all but one part of the last two weeks, plus some. I'd like to not feel quite as afraid as I have been." I shook my head, having not meant to say that. He wasn't bringing the best out of me tonight. "Control over my own mouth for the rest of this evening. Take your pick." He didn't seem to mind the bitterness in my tone.

Nodding, he took a moment for consideration. "I'll do my best to see what I can do about your list. Excluding the self-control." He smirked for a millisecond before sobering again just as quickly. "What scares you, Anna?"

I shook my head, no. Did I not want to say? Did I not know? No, not really. He watched me for a moment, letting me have a few minutes to decide if I could answer. I couldn't. He nodded when I looked up to him. I shrugged helplessly, shaking my head again.

"You're quite the artist. Been at it for some time I take?" He smiled lightly as I looked up with mild surprise from the question.

I nodded. "Yes."

"That's amazing. I can't draw stick figures straight." The smile remained. I tried to return it, and was surprised that I was able to share a small one. He lied. I had plenty of napkins to prove it. Nevertheless, it was a lie to try to make me feel better. I'm not too harsh a judge of those that lie. After all, it's how I survive in this world. "Did you take classes?"

My mind whirled to catch back up. Oh, art. "Art history, but nothing as far as professional training or anything like that." Still perching on the edge of the bed, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly as I pulled my knees up to my chest.

He nodded absently looking thoughtful as he walked around looking at each piece on the floor. He deliberately ignored the ones with bloody footprints. Over my bed hung another of my favorite pieces. Noticing it, his eyes caught on it intensely.

A woman lay in a bed with a demon, a ghost, a faceless nun, and two other frightening faces with the angel of death hovering over her. Just beyond them all was a dark stone tunnel. At the bottom, "Night Intruders" was scribbled as the name. "You have a lot of talent."

"Thank you," enthusiasm lacked in my words, but it was a thoughtful statement. I wouldn't forget it. He raised a brow. "Really." He smiled.

"What's your favorite medium?" His eyes had found a clay sculpture that stood to my waist in the corner of the room. A tree with barren limbs, but the trunk was shaped like that of a tastefully done nude woman. Her arms were stretched up above her head, blending with her hair to create the limbs. "Did you make that, too?"

"Yes. It's my rendering of Mother Nature. See her swollen belly? Pregnant with life. That was my pottery phase. It changes. Chalks right now. Before that was clay, before that it was jewelry. I've painted a lot, too. Watercolors and oils both. Why are you so interested? You one of those rich art junkies I hear so much about?" I couldn't help but laugh at the idea if just a little. I wasn't that good. If he was, he didn't have the greatest taste.

"Can't I be interested in you?" Damn him and those good answers. My cheeks warmed as my chin lay onto my knees. I shrugged. "Could I take you out sometime? I don't mean break time at Riads." His lips pursed into a familiar smirk.

My chest thudded heavily. It took me a few moments to answer, "I have tomorrow off."

His lips twisted up in unpleasant hesitation. "Mmm. That'd be nice, but I can't then. Next week's better."

"Then I have Thursday off."

"I believe I can make that work." He smirked again. "I'll choose the place. While I am completely happy walking around some dirty old docks in the rain with you, I want to take you on a real date." Happy? Really? Hm. Good to know. I fought back a smirk of my own. Fought, and failed.

He walked over to me slowly. With a long pause of hesitation, he turned, sitting on the very edge of the bed next to me. "So you're not nervous now?"

"Should I be?" My brows lift as I let my eyes stare back into his, though I didn't move.

"I haven't decided yet." He leaned to his side, closer to me until his shoulder was pressed to my arm, which still wrapped around my knees.

"Do you want to scare me just to get me rambling like an idiot?" I laughed a little. Until then, I hadn't realized I was smiling so big. It was just involuntary around him, damn it.

"Oh there's other ways to make you nervous." His lips curled into a slow devilish grin. His eyes seemed impossibly bright, vibrant green. My lip caught in my teeth. His body twisted turning into mine. A hand rose to my cheek. Thumb gently pressing to my lip pulling it free of my bite, holding there. My tongue swiftly licked the inside of my lip, sweeping the slight trace of blood away. His brow furrowed. "I have to leave."

Unsteadily, I pulled from him. My foot slipped off the edge of the bed making me nearly fall off. Damien's hand pulled away from me as he straightened, sitting up away from me. Catching myself, I sat straight now, my knees were now pressed tight together with my feet firmly planted on the floor. He'd thrown me for a complete loop. "Now?" Did I do something wrong?

"Yes, now." He looked down at the floor before standing up slowly. "I'm going to Florida to visit my brother." He shook his head, looking irritated by something. I didn't think it was my business so I didn't ask.

My brow furrowed. My head was spinning. I could feel the pressure of another headache building as my head spun. "Oh, well- all right." Silently, I wondered when he would be back.

"I'll just be a couple of days." Outside the thunder cracked loudly, alerting me to the fact that the rain was pouring in great sheets. My hand rose, running through my hair, pulling on the strands as if trying to rip out my stress and pain by the roots. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me anything. I mean, not really." I stood to my feet, just inches from him. Something was bothering him. His eyes seemed troubled. Was it something I said? No, that didn't seem right. I wanted to ask, though somehow the words didn't reach my lips. Why did he have to leave now? Anxiously, I chewed my lip whilst looking to my feet then to the door. It seemed foreboding.

His hand came up brushing my cheek. Once more, his thumb pulled my lip from my teeth. His skin was like ice. "You shouldn't worry that lip so much."

"Yeah, why's that?" My head tilted down into his hand that lingered. I raised my hand to place over his, pulling it down slowly though not letting go. Both of my hands wrapped around his, holding him close to my stomach.

"Well I kind of like that lip. I'd hate to lose it." Smiling again, I looked away from him. He stepped into me. His hand clinched around mine while his other slid around from my side to my back.

A strange defiance sparked in me as I looked up right into his eyes. They were gleaming bright emeralds staring right back to meet the challenge. His hand at my back tightened into a fist, holding my shirt in his hand, pulling me into him. "It's not that I want to leave, you know."

"I'm not kicking you out." He laughed, his nose pressed into my forehead as he leaned closer. Then he took a hold of my side firmly as my arms spread up to wrap around his neck.

His fingers swept my hair away from my neck. Finding my skin, his lips slowly brushed down making my body tingle. Mumbling between the kisses, he groaned, "I don't want to." His lips drug to my shoulder. "But I have to."

My nails found the nape of his neck just beneath his hairline. Quite notably, he shivered. "That's too bad." Instantly I sucked my lip into my mouth. Every primal bone in my body wanted him to stay. Stay for the night, and the following day. We could draw the curtains, and pretend we didn't know when night turned to day or back again.

Pressing his lips firmly to my forehead, cool breath let out in a sigh over my eyelids. "Vorrei restare per sempre," Damien whispered just before suddenly turning to walk straight to the door. Then I was alone.

In case you were wondering it was Italian for, I would stay forever.

That night the dream finally changed. There wasn't any violence. It was nothing that I would classify as horrifying at all but that didn't keep it from frightening me.

Usually every person in the dream was always a blur to me with no distinguishing features at all. Until it was time for them to die that is. Except her, I could always see her- though I was her.

This time the face that came clear to me was one I never expected. Damien.

The man I had seen a hundred times in my real life was sitting on a rock just outside of a small hut covered in ivy. He held a knife in one hand as he carefully shaved from feel alone. A pile of long wavy, dark ashen brown hair lay on the sand at his feet. It matched the braid from the spell perfectly.

The most over whelming feeling of love came over me as she saw him. She had bound herself to him. That was what the spell had been for. They were bound in every way possible, physically, magically, eternally.

The dreading knowledge found me in my sleep. He was hers and hers alone. When he was done he turned to look up at me or her rather, with his unmistakable half grin. As he stood, he looked more like the Damien I knew now, but all the way around clean-shaven. His skin was a deep bronze from too long in the sun. He came to her. Pulling her into his arms, he leaned his lips to hers.

The next second I woke up. Tears blurred my vision. My chest ached so horribly I wished I could rip my heart free. Who was she? How could she take him? Why would he be here if he had her? Is that why he had really left, to go be with her? Or was it not real? Dreams were never supposed to be real. Maybe this was my subconscious' way of telling me we could never be together. The dreams aren't real. I'm not crazy. "I'm not crazy," saying it aloud didn't help.

"Hey, Rachel. I need a favor. I need to borrow your car." I forced myself to wait until eight a.m. to call her, even though I had been up from three a.m. on. "Sure, yeah. I'll meet you at work. - No problem. I'll only be a couple hours. - Don't worry 'bout the gas. I'll fill it up before I bring it back. - Thank you so, so much, Rachel. You're my life saver."

Why Rachel? She's always willing to help. Best of all, she doesn't ask questions. Though I barely knew her, she'd always been really nice. What did I really know about the woman I worked with? Not much. She has a daughter who's three that seems to have some health problems, but I never really asked. Hm maybe I should. Not today though.

The rest of the morning was a big stressful haze despite the gorgeous sunny day outside my window.

I left an hour earlier than I needed to just because I couldn't stand to sit at home a second longer.

As a thank you, I stopped in at Denkies Donuts on the way to work and bought Rachel a coffee with two chocolate éclairs. One for her, one for her little girl for the next morning.

Am I a bad person for forgetting the kid's name? Well, I bought her a donut at least.

Rachel was there promptly. Dressed in her usual black pants and white tee shirt that hugged her well-rounded curves completely. Auburn curls sprung down her back to just past her shoulder blades. Her plump overly full face made her beauty stand out in a way that made her look like a baby doll. Tall, tan, and perky from her petal pink toes to her petal pink finger nails.

She was over joyed by the sweet treats, and happy to oblige the use of her car. "It's totally cool. I trust you, Anna. But I gotta ask, why didn't you just call Neesa? Isn't she like your B.F.F. or whatever?" My eyes widened slightly at the term. It took a second for my brain to process it before I realized it meant best friend forever. It was a term I hadn't heard since way back in middle school. Very Rachel.

"Um yeah, but it's sort of a surprise. So I didn't want her to know. So if you don't mind please don't tell her okay?" All I could do was cross my fingers. It wasn't vital that Neesa didn't know really. I knew by the end of the day there was no doubt at all she would. After all it was her mother I was going to see.

"Oh shiz, is it her birthday? I didn't get her anything!" Rachel's head tilted sort of like a confused dog as she sat there pondering details such as birthdays. She stopped cussing for her daughter, however she always forgot to edit when around adults. Now she sounded like a young teen being watched by mommy and daddy when she talked.

I never had such simple days, nor would I. Looking at her hazy eyed expression I suddenly thought maybe it was a good thing.

"No, no it's not her birthday. Just a B.F.F. thing I guess." Did I just say that? Hah! I did.

"Oh that's cool, too. I totally get it. All right, well just bring it back in one piece." She handed me the keys as she went in to work.

Within thirty minutes' drive I was pulling up in front of the Wildflower. None to my surprise, Adélia was standing out front with her cup of tea, waiting for me next to the open door. Her flowing earthy green dress adorned her as usual. At first glance, you would think she was some earth mother priestess Gypsy straight from a fantasy book. All that mattered to me was if she had any answers.

"Hello, my dear. Please come in." Her smile was small and timid as she ushered me inside, leading the way to the back through the busy store immediately just as last time. Today the store was full of people. The music was the same style, but full of chanting, and some kind of rattling instrument with a drum.

Again, from unseen pockets she pulled a set of keys, unlocking the back door, this time however she turned back to it once we'd entered the hall. "Sometimes the customers get nosey and try to follow," she explained as she relocked it.

With an absent nod to her remark, I followed Adélia into the office area, sitting as she shut the door. Like before, you could hear the music clearly, although it was much softer. It was quite obvious she had expected me. On the table there was a tray with a tea set. A cup of steaming tea waiting for me. Guess it just runs in the family.

"So, you knew I was coming. Do you know why?" My hands were shaking too much from anxiety or I would have been more polite, and drank the tea. Plus I had a huge frappe in the car.

"Only that it has something to do with your last reading. Even if you don't believe so, you're not as easy to read as some people are. You hide a great deal of things not just from others, but yourself as well." Adélia sat across from me in a chair perched easily in the seat like a dainty little bird. She was as petite as Neesa.

"Yes, you said that last time. I'm not so much concerned with the reading though." Clearly this surprised her. "This is about before the reading. The meditation thing we did? With the rocks?"

"All right. What can I help you with, my dear?" She seemed completely at ease still. For some reason that frustrated me. How could she be relaxed when I was the exact opposite? "Drink your tea, dear Lianna. It will ease your body and mind both."

Sometimes I hate formalities, but I needed her help- I needed to know what was wrong with me. So as she directed I drank the tea down in one single gulp. "Thank you. It's great. Now, about the meditation thing."

"Trance meditation," she corrected with a simple nod. Her gentle loving expression didn't falter at my abruptness nor did she comment about how I drank my tea.

"Yes, the trance meditation. Well, to get to the point. What did you do to me?"

"Can you explain the question a little more thoroughly, my dear?" Her brow furrowed just slightly in wonder as she took another sip of tea. Always so calm.

"I mean during the meditation. I dunno if I was supposed to have a vision or just go blank or what. Honestly though, I think I fell asleep. The dream was really weird, and, well-" I hesitated a moment. No part of me wanted to be here. "from then on my nightmares have been like a million times worse. Now... Well you see me. I can't sleep. I have no appetite. When I do sleep, I wake up covered in blood. It's way worse than it ever was before. I just feel like I am going abs-"

"Wait. Covered in blood how, Lianna?" Now granted, most people would find such a fact quite odd so it relieved me slightly that she was paying enough attention for it to make her take pause, but she still looked so composed about all of this.

Either way I had to take a moment before I could describe it thoroughly. "It's hard to explain. I get stress nosebleeds while I sleep. My eyes may bleed. Sometimes I bite my lip open. I somehow get cut in my sleep in weird places. But now, it's way worse than it ever has been before.

"And what I was trying to say, it feels like I'm going crazy. It's been so long since I have even gotten more than three hours of sleep in a single night. It's not even all at once now." I took a moment to breathe, but she still let me continue.

My hands ran through my hair, which was down, in an attempt to collect myself. "Last night was worse though. The dream changed."

"Changed how exactly?" Her eyes were narrowed slightly as she listened closely to everything I had to say.

"There is this guy I know from work. We're sort of seeing each other. I guess. Well it's really complicated." My hands were now moving along with my words as if I needed them to talk. "But, anyway, he - he was in the dream." I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn't believe I was saying this. Thinking it. Dreaming it!

"Lianna- Honey, please slow down. Breathe. Start from the beginning so that I may understand better. Please, my dear."

So I did. I told her everything, even more than I had explained to Damien. I needed help. I was desperate to understand what they meant. What they were trying to tell me. I left out my family's reaction, but walked her through the dreams from my childhood, and then taking more detail with the one about Damien.

"Nothing like this has ever happened."

She nodded as she finished her tea, setting the cup down onto the table. "And you've never had a dream about anyone you know in real life until now. Correct?" I nodded quietly for answer.

"You said you had only dreamed about one person in particular, and the people who lived around her. You could only see their detailed features a little while before they died. But this man in the dream last night, Damien, he came in clearly. Yet you say you know him in real life. So you're afraid he's going to die in real life. That's very interesting... I can understand why you're so obviously upset though," while she spoke, she moved to sit beside me on the couch. Her hands clasped over mine. "You poor child, having to see such horrible things night after night, and those horrific injuries. I'm sure there is something we can do to bring us some understanding. Hopefully we can put an end to this chaos for you." Her hands griped mine tightly. Her lower lip became a hard set line.

"Well I wasn't afraid he was going to die until you said it just now." Just great. Add a new worry to my life please. "But mostly I want to know what they mean. What is she trying to tell me? Why is she doing this to me? What does Damien have to do with her?"

"Anna, you sound like you think these dreams are real." Her focus honed in on me. Her eyes bore into mine, demanding me silently to look her dead on. Her voice disturbed the air though sounded calm, and gentle, "Sweetheart, dreams are our subconscious interpretations of our fears, and desires, but they're not real. It may be strange for you to only dream about one place, but they are not real however vivid they may be. I interpret your dream about Damien as fear. Fear to let yourself love him, child. Fear he will leave you. Fear he will betray you. Perhaps someone in your past has betrayed you?"

The pinging fired synapses through my temporal lobes wildly. Not right. Time to go. I couldn't tell you why, but it was a finite decision. It took a moment for me to be able to move. It felt as if I'd been stuck. Pulling my hands from her made my fingers ache.

It was the first time I had said anything like this out loud in such explicit detail in ten years. The first time was to my parents. Then to a therapist, who suddenly suggested I see a psychoanalyst to my parents.

The memories were so vague I had pushed them back forcefully. My brother had no idea. He couldn't know, they said. He wouldn't understand. He was military. It could hurt his career. Keep it secret. No one can ever know.

They said I was sick. There were tests. I spent the next ten years in and out of hospitals.

There was a fight with screaming, followed by another stay at the hospital. I got emancipated before moving to my grandmother's. When she died, I moved to the loft. When I finally told my brother why I moved out he stopped talking to me. He blamed me for our parents breaking up. I haven't seen him since.

Thinking about these things for a few moments, as well as my past on this subject, I looked up to Adélia with a calm understanding smile.

"I apologize for wasting both your time, and my own. Goodbye, Adélia." Standing up, I walked out of the room while Adélia sat there confused, obviously insulted. She looked stunned. I swore I could have seen a glint of fear or maybe even anger in her eyes. Before I made it to the second door in the hall, she was behind me taking a hold of my arm.

"Lianna, don't leave like this. I'm certain that I can help you if you'll just give me the chance. We can find a resolution."

Releasing the door handle, I turned to face her. Carefully, and slowly annunciating my movements, I removed her hand from my arm. A small shock stunned my fingers when I touched her. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to happen. I was wrong to come here like this. Thank you again for your time, Adélia." So I left. I forgot to tell her to keep our conversation private. Eventually I would regret it.

Adélia had followed me out to the parking lot to Rachel's car all the while attempting to argue once persuasion failed. It may have been rude, but I never said another word to her. The lump in my throat was simply too big to speak around.

I know it was Rachel's car, but driving was relaxing so I took my time on the way back. Inevitably, I turned a thirty-minute drive into two hours.

Eventually, I found myself in the parking lot at Riads texting Rachel to come grab her keys so I didn't have to see Neesa. As promised, I left her with a full tank despite the fact when I picked it up it was nearly on empty. She said I should keep it until she was off work so she could drive me home, but I really didn't feel like being around people much so I declined.

In fact, just as I had taken the long drive home, I planned on walking a little extra that night as well. As it turned out, I probably should have listened to Rachel. My life would have turned out a lot different for sure.

The night air was dank with humidity, creating a thick steaming fog on the ground. The golden streetlamps could barely light anything outside a couple feet of the bulbs themselves. The wooden planks were grey in the dusk. The amber lighting failed to reach them. The wood groaned from the weight of a slow moving tide sloshing in slow steady rhythms.

My body had reached the point of exhaustion. Every fiber of my being had become extremely sensitive. While my mind was whirling in on itself, my mental senses were dulling as my physical senses were becoming painfully acute.

Thoughts swirled through my mind so quick, and chaotic, they crashed into one another. Neesa would be angry of course, but would she hate me now? Why the intense ping off my id to leave the Wildflower in the way that I had, so quickly? It wasn't anything to do with Adélia, but some distant warning that I had to run. Had I been imagining things? It felt as if I was being watched. Not that I was unaccustomed to the feeling. For several months it had felt as if someone had been watching my every move. What was Damien doing in my dream? Who was Damien D'Tera? Why did I trust him so completely?

At times he didn't feel any more real than my dreams. This line of thought led back to thoughts about Adélia from earlier. Each thought circled the other like a record stuck on repeat. The dream. Adélia. Damien. Neesa. All of it circled over and over again.

When I was younger, I was convinced the dreams were real. It was a fact to me that somehow I had gotten a window into this little girl's life. It was obvious she was some kind of witch. It was so entrancing to watch her create little dragons out of fire. To play with them like they were friends. So entrancing that I began to try it myself.

Unfortunately, I didn't understand her, so I would repeat the steps I saw her do, making up the rest as I went along. Needless to say, my parents were not happy. Not to mention totally freaked out about the fire in the backyard.

Soon after, I was in therapy. TV became nonexistent in my life because they thought that was where I'd gotten the idea. Never did make a fire dragon friend either. Still to this day I have yet to own a TV. I have a laptop for webflix. Why bother I figure?

I remembered the day I had decided to leave more clearly now. There had been a fight. Not with me and my parents. Between the two of them. I went to the doctor for more testing. When I came home the next day, my mother had gone. She could no longer handle it, so she left us. Neither could I. I was fourteen. My brother was a young Marine, stationed in California. It was almost a year before he even found out mom had moved out, or that I'd gone to live with our Babushka.

None of this meant my dreams were real. That wasn't why I moved out. I'm not crazy. I just hated that they tried to make me think I was. That I was a freak my own brother had to be protected from. A freak my own mother could not tolerate, to the point she abandoned her whole family. I heard she ended up with a new one though.

The emotions left inside of me were still bitterly raw- More hatred for my brother for agreeing with them. I don't say his name now, nor do I say theirs. Outside of the people I grew up with, no one knows about my family. I sighed. Forcing myself to banish those memories as my eyes began to feel tight, a knot threatened the vocal cords in my throat.

As far as why I believed so avidly it was more than just a dream, it was just a gut feeling. Something in my head always said she couldn't be imaginary. So maybe I was half and half on it. Part of me couldn't deny the dreams. Part of me couldn't accept it any more than they could. It wasn't possible... Was it?

After the first mirror dream as I had come to call it, I was thinking about it more and more. I felt strong as ever this was no simple dream. These dreams were showing me something. Showing me something vitally important I just couldn't grasp an understanding of. Like the realization was just out of reach. Maybe they weren't real, but maybe they were sending me a message. Or that she was trying to. Why me though?

So the question was still, what was Damien doing in the dream? It wasn't like I could ask him obviously. He was gone. He'd left town suddenly. Not to mention he probably thought I was crazy. I trusted him far more than what was natural. Yet why did he leave so abruptly? How could I love a man that I didn't know at all? A man that knew too much, when I knew so little. Nothing made sense any more. Not that it ever really had.

The lie didn't bother me as much as everything else. Everyone lies. Haven't you ever been in love with a person you've lied to? Even a tiny one? It goes both ways you know.

In the end, I'm just not the realist I believed myself to be- I'm just a cynic.

He may have confused me, even made me a little nervous if I was being honest with myself. Yet somehow, Damien was the only one I felt close to at all any more. Not that I didn't care for Neesa. Of course I did. She was too afraid of me now to even stand to be near me. Despite her begging me to talk to her again, the main reason I couldn't was the horrible look of dread every time our eyes caught. Feeling insane is one thing. Having other people look at you as if you scare them is another.

With Damien though, I knew if I wanted to I could explain the dream. He wouldn't get the horrible nervous look that made me feel like someone thought I was a nut job. At least I hoped not. So that's just what I told myself.

There was no doubt in my mind I was safe with him. I could depend on him. What else mattered? My heart and my gut both agreed on this. It was my mind that said otherwise. Warning me instinctively I didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle, and the big picture might be more disturbing than I realized. This time I couldn't deny that warning ping in the back of my mind. As if there was something silently screaming, alerting me to some admonition. Why wouldn't it just come through?

My feet pulled me in the direction of the docks. The sounds of the inky water slapping against the wooden planks in slow steady movements was peaceful. It gave me a bass rhythm that steadied my body and mind, giving some order back to my life. It was my favorite place to be in all of Vermont. They were not the nicest in Vermont, not by a long shot. That's why I came here though. It gave them an advantage of not being too crowded.

The closer I got, the further away I felt. Of course, I was still very much inside the city, yet it was so much quieter here. That night the silence had taken on an eerie quality. The water was calm, making soft slopping slapping noises against the wooden planks. Cars couldn't be heard, nor people. The world held its breath in a dead calm.

Dew from the fog clung to my skin like a coat. My stomach twisted almost painfully as I reached the top of the slope that led to the docks. Had I eaten today? No, but I wasn't hungry. An unseen worry scratched at the back of my mind like a giant firefly buzzing around in my head lighting up when it was too far out of reach to be caught.

The air was chilly. Every one of my breaths added to the thick fog. Never had I felt such an ache of dread course through my body. Unfortunately, no stock was placed into my unease. Of course the insane were paranoid, weren't they? I kept walking.

If I couldn't identify it then I was probably imagining it or just so eaten up with stress that it was making me even crazier than I already was.

"Crazy? I was crazy once..." I laughed bitterly at myself over the stupid childhood game. I hadn't thought of that in years. Low and behold, look how I turned out. When I laid out the facts, even I thought I was a nut job.

It was early dusk. It really shouldn't have been as dark as it was being just after six in the evening. I assumed there was a storm rolling in, which wasn't entirely unusual. This was the rainiest spring Vermont had seen in a while.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one crazy enough to walk around in the dark on such a creepy night. Down at the very end of the pier stood someone leaning against the railing. Just as I noticed him, the fog swallowed the man out of view.

A surge of longing rippled through me as I walked up to the bench Damien and I occupied just the day before. The stone was colder than before as I sat down. It gave me a chill that raised goose bumps on my exposed flesh.

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't go out at night alone. It's not wise to do so. It's not safe." Not expecting the company I nearly jumped out of my skin when the man spoke from behind me. His accent was of a young man with old New Englanders twang. An east coast accent you only heard in old movies. He caught me off guard, however his voice wasn't callus, it was smooth as heavy cream.

"Um, thank you, but I'm all right. Just out for a short walk." I could be polite, but I wasn't exactly in the mood for company.

"Mmm. You do smell amazing in the rain," his voice rang with longing. A hunger so sinister my stomach twisted into a tight ball urged me to stand to my feet, turning me to face him.

Something about him was wrong. His skin was pale in the dusk light. His eyes gleamed yellow from an overhead post. The effect reminded me of a distant memory.

Paul's cat hiding under the staircase. Her eyes gleaming yellow from the faint light behind me in the pitch black of the staircase closet. Her name was Split. My eyes narrowed. Weird thought to have. Shaking my head, I forced a bitter smile. Bitter smiles were all that I had in me.

"Well I need to get going. It was nice meeting you." With a slight nod, I backed to the sidewalk that ran right along the docks by the water. It would have been preferable to go back up the hill, but it would have meant circling the bench, and getting closer to him. More than likely, he was harmless, however my feet were moving with or without me.

"Where do you think you're going? You didn't look like you were in a hurry a minute ago." Rudeness to perfect strangers wasn't my usual persona, though nothing felt usual about this- especially considering he was following literally right behind me, despite my swift pace.

Giving him no answer, I broke into a dead run. In the back of my head, I was really grateful I had ripped the strap of my purse, and had yet to replace it. Everything I had with me was in pockets. Foremost in my thought was run. Run hard, run fast. Though at the time it wasn't as much of a thought, as a whisper, someone screaming inside of my head for me to pay attention. To get the hell out of there before it was too late. Was it already too late?

So close it felt like an intimate whisper into my ear he spoke again, "Oh, how I love it when they run. Can't you go any faster? Or are you really so pathetic?" His breath was hot in my ear with a grotesque sneer in his voice. It was impossibly close. Unhurried, unwavering regardless of the fact we were running.

Despite how much I had walked, I had never been very athletic so it wasn't long before my lungs were straining, and my legs were feeling a burn. The fear of faltering pushed me to move faster anyway, and kick it into over drive. The added speed didn't help though. No matter how fast I moved, I could feel him so close it made my skin crawl.

"Not bad, little Anna. But you're still not fast enough." Anger boiled inside of me as he stated how weak I was. The fact this wasn't random. That somehow he knew who I was. I was the reason this was happening sent me over the edge, into a rage I had never felt before. It was nothing like being angry with the stupid waitress I worked with. This was a fire that burned much deeper.

Apparently, I think pretty clearly when I'm angry.

All at once, I stopped, tucking down into a crouch with my weight on the balls of my feet. This seemed to be the last thing he had expected, luckily for me.

He slammed into me, flipping over my head before landing in a crouch on his feet. Oh, shit. Not wasting a second of time I just gained, I jumped up, running straight up the hill, trying to get back to the main road.

He was on me in a second's time. This time he moved in for the kill. His hand grappled around my knee, jerking it out of socket as he threw me to the ground with amazing strength. The way I fell slammed the joint back into place, both a blessing and a curse as the second wave of pain shot through me with such ferocity it silenced my scream completely. I was left gagging on a hard intake of breath.

"Nice move, little Anna. I'll give you two points for that one." His hand, still on my leg, twisted. The pressure so great the only way to ease it was to roll to my back. "Don't worry, we're nowhere near done, kitten." My cry was an agonized groan.

He came up to his knees as his hand pulled me down the hill closer to him. His body loomed directly above mine. Hunger flashed in his eyes. I was certain his goal must be rape, perhaps worse.

With my free foot, I jerked back, aiming a kick high. Not for his groin, but for his chest. If it were hard enough I had a chance at cracking his sternum, or if nothing else maybe knock the breath out of him badly enough I could escape. Neither availed however. My barrage of kicks barely stymied his onslaught attack.

My eyes blurred over with tears from the pain so I couldn't focus on his face. They contorted his features wildly stretching out his jaw, and teeth as if he were more monster than man. The roaring in my ears registered as a deep throaty snarl.

Instead of grabbing my leg to stop me, he swung back to hit me. I took the opening to kick his chest again, jerking the other leg free, aiming it for his groin.

My injured leg hurt so badly I was certain it couldn't do much damage, but in that spot it surely wouldn't take much. As my foot landed against the crotch of his pants, his hand came down hard on the side of my face. I was lucky.

If he would have hit me in the skull, at best I would have been unconscious if it didn't kill me instantly. As it was, I felt my cheekbone crack forcing me to choke on another tormented cry of pain. A fresh wave of pain shot from my cheek up into my skull.

My hands dug into the earth behind me in an attempt to gain leverage to pull myself away from him. With all the rain as of late there was just mud and scattered rocks to grab hold of. My feet continued a barrage of kicks anywhere they could land as he leaned closer to grab hold of me for what I knew would be the last time.

Just before his hands grabbed a hold of me again, I found the two biggest rocks I could manage without looking. Slamming them up simultaneously against either side of his head, blood splattered me victoriously. With one more kick, I was free. Up and running no matter how much pain it caused.

"Oh, how I love it when they fight back! Keep running, little Anna. The hunt is on!" he bellowed after me with a nauseating guttural laugh just as my feet hit pavement.

How many seconds until he tackled me again? The question was formed wordlessly in my mind. I forced my body to comply, and move faster.

The closest places of business on this dock were all warehouses. This area was not groomed well enough for the nicer shops and restaurants that Burlington was so well known for. I was alone. Therefore, I was far from safe. At least two more blocks before I had any hope of finding civilization.

There was no telling if he was still behind me so all I could do was run. As the first block was ending, tires squealed behind me just as I was stepping off the first curb. On foot, I had a chance. If he got me in the car, I was dead.

There was an alley to the right. Too small for the car, or could he follow? Would it be a dead end? Would he have me cornered? It was my only chance. I lunged for its opening.

My knee gave as my foot twisted off the curb sending me stumbling forward. Instinctively, my arms thrust out. As I landed, my wrist bent back painfully. Nor had my arms softened the blow to my face as I hit the cold wet concrete.

Blood spattered from my nose and mouth. My lungs were too fatigued to even muster a scream. Instead, this sickened pathetic whimper gurgled out through the stream of blood.

My whole body shook violently as the agony quaked through me. There was no way I could run from him any longer. The adrenaline was running out as the pain was taking over. Would I die here? Would he find me and take me somewhere else to prolong my suffering? How long would it take?

Another dark thought. Is this what Neesa and her mother had seen?

My lids were clinched shut though my eyes seemed to see visions of waving colors flashing blood red to pure black. More than anything I wanted to lay here, to go to sleep, and forget that it wasn't safe. For some reason, despite what I wanted, my body continued on of its own free will without my thought process registering. It would not give up easily, even if I was ready to.

Trudging myself up from the uncomfortable concrete I stood slowly, first placing my weight on my good knee until I could stand to my feet. The pain blurred my vision, but I could still see my immediate surroundings well enough. There was no point in running. It would have been impossible to in the first place, let alone out running him was clearly not an option. If he were going to follow me, or catch up to me and finish the job, he would. At least I was trying though.

One step after another made it that much harder to walk. By the time I could see my apartment I was dragging my feet inches at a time rather than full steps. It seemed to take hours. At least I was there, and alive no less. He hadn't come to finish the job yet anyway.

The stairs may as well have been Mount Everest. I fell twice, until I gave in and decided to crawl the last two flights with my hands so I could at least steady myself. By the time I made it inside the loft and got the door locked behind me, I collapsed into a fit of laughter. I'd made it! I actually made it! There was not a thought in my mind that believed it was possible. Surely if he'd wanted me so badly he would have followed after me and grabbed me again. It would have been easy, and it would have been the last time.

Still fitting with laughter, I laid there as the laughter turned into sobs until I finally lost all consciousness.

"Anna! Look at me!" One hand held onto my shoulder turning me slowly as another hand carefully took a hold of my chin, tilting it up, making me cough on my own blood. All of the world I knew was pain.

"No." Worthlessly defiant, I argued with whoever it was that was touching me. I gurgled coughing on the blood still pooled in my mouth from biting the concrete. Then all at once everything from the docks came flooding back. This wasn't another nightmare I was waking up from. My eyes were swollen, so I could barely open them. It all but stole my vision. "No!" the scream was weak as I yelled, and sprayed blood as I spoke. My good hand shot up defensively swiping at his face to try to push him away from me. The hand at my chin released to take my wrist gently.

"Lianna. Anna. You don't need to look at me. Just listen. Listen to me, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. Well not intentionally. I'm afraid moving at all is going to hurt though. Are you with me, Anna?" his golden voice filled with reverence, and concern. His hands on my body were firm, cool, and gentle.

"Damien?" Between the tears, and blood, I couldn't see anything as I tried to open my eyes.

"Yes, it's me. I'm right here."

All my fight retreated at once, along with the only energy I had. My body gave out as I lay back, a little too roughly, adding a bump to my head to the many other injuries. "Owe!" I whined out. Lights flickered on around me once he stepped away to turn them on. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but it showed me the pool of drying blood my cheek had been all but stuck to. "Oh that's so gross," I groaned.

"You're not going to tell me this was a dream." Damien kneeled next to me where I could see him, his hand brushing my hair as his eyes swept over me closely, assessing the damage.

"No. No dream." My head was slow to process thoughts. "How'd you get here?"

"I'm afraid I had to break your door to get in. The outside of it was covered in blood, and when I got no answer I kicked it in." He didn't look remorseful, not that I blamed him for it.

But that's not what I'd meant. "You were supposed to be in Florida. And you are so going to fix my door." Looking up at him, I glared. Though it was probably more creepy than threatening.

"Yeah, well I turned around and came back. My family could wait. Looks like it's a good thing I did. I can explain that later. Tell me what happened to you."

"I..." I had to close my eyes. The lights were hurting already as my body was in far too much pain to deal with anything else.

I both felt and heard Damien's footsteps as he'd stepped over me to the light switch to shut them off before returning to my side. Suddenly, behind shut lids, I saw the room darken. "Better?"

"Some." Letting my eyes open and adjust, I looked up at him though didn't move otherwise. "I was by the docks. There was a man... Or, maybe it wasn't a man." I remembered back to how fast he'd been. How when I stooped down to trip him, he had landed on his feet as if it had been nothing. How his face had contorted by the light of the moon through the haze. Or maybe I was just as mental as everyone said I was. "I got attacked."

Damien's eyes narrowed as his gaze left mine and swept slowly downward from my eyes on. "You walked back here?" he asked as he looked me over still.

"I didn't fly," I mumbled out as my eyes closed again. This was all too exhausting. Couldn't he ask me these questions later? All I wanted to do was sleep.

"Anna... Lianna, wake up. Anna, if you can hear me can you just open your eyes? You don't need to say anything." I must have fallen asleep, because as I woke I started to jolt in fear before his hand touched to my cheek causing me to flinch. "Look at me. It's just me. You're safe, it's okay."

It took a moment but I managed to look at him as my mind stirred to remind me what was going on. All I could do was look up at him as a tear spilled out of my eye. Leaning forward, his lips brushed my good cheek, kissing it away. "We're going to get you out of here. Just hang on. This is gonna hurt," as he spoke, his arms slid around me. Before I could protest, he was standing. I sucked in a sharp breath to keep from crying out as he carried me out of my loft and down the stairs. Before I knew it, he somehow managed to open the passenger side door of his jeep, sliding me in. It hurt like hell. I never made a sound.

In moments, he was in, and we were driving. Despite my body being little more than a lump in his seat I knew we were speeding. Sucking in a ragged breath Damien nearly groaned. "Are you cold?" his voice carried a hard edge.

"No. I need a towel. The blood-" With a sigh of relief he rolled the windows down automatically. A second later he reached back behind his seat so far I was shocked he could even manage to keep hold of the steering wheel until he came up with a roll of blue paper towels. Grateful, I took one and tore off a stretch the length of my arms before I waded them up over my face to catch any remaining blood.

"Please, don't take me to the hospital." I groaned, turning my head to try and keep the blood from getting everywhere. Despite all, I was horrified of what would happen if my father saw me like this.

"I wasn't," Damien's answer was surprising as it was relieving. Curled in his passenger seat I saw his hand reach to the complicated looking stereo. Eminem and Rihanna sang to me about just the way I felt. At some point quickly after that, I blacked out.

By the time I woke up the pain had taken over my whole body from my toes to the ends of my hair. There was a blanket pulled over me, I noticed as I forced my eyes to open.

The room was mostly dark. What little light there was wavered, changing its brightness in a pattern that registered with me as a fireplace before I had the chance to look. Not that I wanted to move anyway.

At just the perfect sound level, music filled the room. Low enough you could talk easily, yet still hear the lyrics. Another bonus. I knew the band. They were one of my favorites. Shaman's Harvest "Dragonfly" had just turned on. I'd worn my first CD out the first week I'd had it.

It took me a few moments to remember why my body hurt the way it did. As the memories came flooding back, I became rigid with anxiety. "Damien?" I whispered my voice rough as sandpaper.

Please let that part not be a dream. Please be here.

"I'm right here." His hand lay onto my cheek gently. It startled me because I hadn't noticed he was even sitting so close. "Careful. Don't move. You're pretty banged up. Is it all right if I look at your leg? I think the ankle's the worst."

"Okay. How long have I been out?" There was neither strength nor energy left in my body. It was as if I had become paralyzed. Paralyzed, but with the full feeling of every single burning nerve inside my body.

"Including the drive, maybe forty-five minutes. We haven't been home long." He folded the blanket so that my legs were revealed. It was then I realized I was only in my bra and underwear beneath the blanket.

"Home?" My eyes sought to watch him, which wasn't easy as my neck was too stiff to lift or turn.

"Yes. I brought you to my house because you didn't want to see a doctor." His cool fingers probed along my knee, all down my leg to my ankle, which felt as if it had swollen to twice the size easily. In fact I was sure it had, I just didn't want confirmation visual or otherwise.

"Oh." Funny, I remember clearly when I asked that he had replied he wasn't. So it seemed it was never his plan to take me to the hospital in the first place. The memories flooded me.

"I believe your ankle is broken. Your knee was dislocated, though it's fine now considering. Though I'm sure it doesn't feel fine. Your wrist is at minimum fractured." His fingers barely traced the skin in his examination. "That's just the big injuries of course." He eyed my cheek, though quickly looked away.

"How do you know?" Unless he was a human x-ray, how could he possibly know?

"You're better off not to look. It's pretty obvious." Well, in my book that meant I had better look. I raised my head slowly, but it wasn't enough. With a slight groan, I pulled my body upright, which caused the blanket to fall off me. This wasn't my concern though. The concern was my ankle twisted in a direction I couldn't contort it to naturally. Yeah, it was broken. Again. Damn it.

"It needs to be set." A sigh escaped my lips as I spit small amounts of blood with each word. Damien's brow rose curiously as he gave me a look that said I must be insane. So I shrugged, giving a nod before confirming his unspoken question. "Yeah, I know I sound nuts. You have no idea how much. Can you do it or not? I don't blame you if you can't, it's okay," my voice was little more than a hoarse whisper by this point. It felt like my throat had been thrown in the blender.

Damien sighed in a way that hinted I wasn't the only one torn up at the moment. "Lay down. Don't bite your lip. It's already badly busted. Your nose is broken. I'm pretty sure your cheek is, too, from the look of things."

Laying back down was still a painful process. "On three..." Damien gently placed his hands on my bare foot, and ankle.

Instead of counting though, he surprised me by jerking it back into place with an audible snap. Though I stuffed my fist into my mouth, it wasn't in time to muffle my scream.

"Three," he mumbled as he moved closer to kiss my forehead. "I'm sorry, Anna." He turned away from me, sitting on the floor. His knees were up near his chest, elbows planted on them as his hands drug down over his face.

Tears splashed down my cheeks. The act of crying hurt in itself as it reminded me of my broken face. There was no price too high I would not have paid if it would have made the tears stop, but I just couldn't. Everything was too much. The exhaustion. The fears. The unanswered questions. The pain.

It was almost worse that I couldn't even cry as hard as I wanted. My face hurt so badly the only thing I could manage was a solid stream of tears as I lay there. At least I was silent.

It took a while for me to calm down, and collect myself. The tears hadn't stopped, though they were slightly more spaced out. I could speak though, "He was gonna kill me." I couldn't tell if it was a question or not.

"The man at the docks? Probably." Damien flinched. "Yes." Swallowing down his own ragged breath he nodded slightly.

"He's been following me."

"Are you sure? How long now?"

"I don't know. Do you have any aspirin?" My head was pounding like a jackhammer while trapped in a vice. Every muscle ached, and burned. All of this didn't even begin to describe the pain I was in.

"I can go one better. In the first aid kit I have some Vicodin. I shall be back in a moment." As he stood, his lips brushed the top of my head before he left. His step seemed to waver in a way that made his misery more blatant.

"Water please?" I hated taking pills dry. Though I could manage, it sucked.

"Of course." A minute later, he returned with a large first aid kit that looked more like a paramedic bag, a pill bottle that was definitely not aspirin, and a bottle of Fiji water. With a straw. How thoughtful. I couldn't contain the sigh. Even when I was a kid, I hated being taken care of. Not that I ever was really. It felt unnatural.

"You're my hero." I laughed bitterly. It hurt like hell. "What are the pills from?" surely he saw the question coming. Not many people kept narcotics on hand. I did, but I got hurt a lot. Seriously, a lot a lot. Having a doctor as a father helped, too. I got a new script in the mail every four weeks with all sorts of anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. Those I flushed. We didn't acknowledge each other as family, but no other doctor would see me. Given his position, one would assume that was his doing. At least he was charitable with the drugs.

"Broken leg last year snowboarding." He shrugged casually as he opened the pill bottle. After some hesitation- it seemed he was pondering how many to give me, he handed me the bottle. Checking the dose, I dumped three into my hand as he opened the bottle of water. As he handed me the bottle, he slipped a straw into it.

It was lukewarm. Not kept in the refrigerator then. I was blessedly grateful the water wasn't cold. It would have hurt like hell if it would have been.

"Thank you. Where's your bathroom?" I downed the pills with half the bottle of water all at once. It hurt like hell, but soon it wouldn't. Blood mingled with my water. Copper twang, sweet, and salty.

Moving up next to me, he slid an arm around my waist, and helped me stand. I swatted him away when I spied the door. Using furniture and the wall to hobble, I almost made it, but three feet from the door my knee gave out. Damien caught my fall, helping me to the door. Once in the restroom, I kept the light off. I wasn't ready to look.

Water dripped from my hair around my forehead. Most of the blood was washed off though a few places still oozed. Some dried blood still remained, mostly on my neck. My lip was pretty torn up on the inside, split up to the top. At least I had all my teeth, thank God. Yes, both my nose and cheek were broken.

I straightened my nose myself. Damien hadn't been happy about that at all. If not for the pain, I would have laughed at how upset he'd gotten. As it was, I wiped more tears away instead.

Back on the couch, we sat in silence for a while. Playing with the straw, I finally asked him, "So you gonna make me ask? You know I need answers."

"You need stitches. I can manage them if you like. And yes. I did say I would try to give you some peace of mind. If you'll give me a starting place, I'll do my best to give you some answers." I nodded to the stitches with a small sigh. I hated stitches. I already had just a few hundred scars. Stitches made them much worse.

"Were you even going to Florida? Start there, work through how we ended up here while you stitch my lip."

First aid kit my ass. You buy first aid kits at the pharmacy. This was a professional paramedic's bag. Damien sighed as he opened the black bag that he'd brought out with the Vicodin. It was well equipped for sure. It had all sorts of bandages of every size. Stitching kits. Throwaway tubes of God knows what. Iodine swabs, and all sizes of wraps. You name it. Even a few things that looked like syringes, which should have disturbed me a great deal. "And what's with the bag? Don't think I've seen a first aid kit quite like that before." My head nodded at the med kit.

"Anyone can buy a paramedic's kit. But you're right. I wasn't going to Florida. In fact, I don't know anyone in Florida. I don't believe I have ever been actually. Though I have to say, I'm surprised you realized that." Damien pulled out a tube of Lidocaine, dabbing it with a cotton swab over my lips, down my chin. Apparently I lost a good deal of skin. Sexy.

"That numbing gel tingles. So do you even have a brother?" Sounded like, "Ah umbing ell ingles. O ew yew emen av eh utter?" he understood perfectly.

"Two actually. Two sisters as well. Don't talk or it's going to hurt more." He leaned against the couch as I lay still to let him work. My body trembled. Taking the water bottle from me, he covered me back up before he started to stitch my lip back together.

"They're the only family I have. I lied about Florida out of habit honestly. If it helps, I hated lying to you." I swore I heard him mutter next that he hated himself for lying to me. I might have imagined it though. The pills were already working a little magic.

Our eyes caught for a moment before he continued, "My family and I are very secretive. It's rare we tell anyone anything about ourselves including everything from where we live to what we do, along with all the how's and why's involved. You're different though. I give you my word I will not lie to you again. There's no point in that. Not with you." He sighed. "Don't move. Don't talk."

Lidocaine numbed it, although if it hadn't been for the Vicodin I would not have been a very pleasant patient. While he worked, I focused on the lyrics to Devil's Gift, and then Broken Dreams. Another favorite for obvious reasons.

Once he was done, he cleaned it with iodine, adding more of the numbing gel to my lip to finish it up. It made it a lot harder to speak for sure. "What about Riads? Why work there?" It didn't sound very clear, however he understood me. This part was more like "wha bou riahs wha wok da"

"To be closer to you. The job was no thrill, but it had its perks. It was kinda nice to have something different to keep me busy anyway. Besides, you wouldn't talk to me with my just coming in as a customer. Remember, I tried that." He continued to tend to me, taking Medi pads and alcohol to clean every speck of blood from my chest up. He was appropriate. My thoughts weren't, but I kept them silent, thank God. I blamed them on the Vicodin.

"How could I forget? Did you know about me before you started coming in as a customer?" We're done translating now, you get the picture. It was dumbfounding that he understood me at all.

Even after he had cleaned the blood away from my lip it still drizzled slightly from my mouth as I spoke. I believed I'd bitten my tongue and cheek quite badly. No stitching that. I'd succeeded in swallowing before the Lidocaine. He handed me some sort of thick gauzy pad. I held it to my mouth between speaking.

Damien's chest was heaving even harder than mine was. Every time he looked at me he almost cringed. It made me want to die all the more. It was amazing how despite all this I was feeling self-conscious. Pathetic really, isn't it?

Maybe the sight of blood just grossed him out like Paul. Well if that was the case, then we were doomed from ever having any relationship. Too bad my gut told me that wasn't quite the case. Unexpectedly, he turned his head away from me. It was hard to tell if he was coughing or laughing.

"Did I stalk you, you mean? No, not hardly. Though maybe I should have. Might have kept you from ending up like this." Damien's laugh was halfhearted, and bitter as he carefully wiped away any missed blood off my face.

It never registered at the time as to why, but everything stained by my blood Damien quickly tossed into the fire.

His shoulders slumped sadly. As he spoke his voice sounded distant, "One day I was just driving through on my way to New York. I saw you walking up the side walk to Riads. It was like something switched on inside of me. I wanted to meet you," explaining this wasn't easy. His eyes tightened, refusing to meet mine. "But it was stronger than that. Like I didn't have a choice." He leaned into the couch, watching the fire to keep from looking at me.

"That night you waited on me. Then meeting you wasn't enough. I had to know you. From then on every time I saw you it felt like you were just a big magnet pulling me in closer. Before long the only answer to me seemed to be to get a job there. It was that or ask you to run away with me which I didn't figure you'd be up for." His shoulders came up in a heavy though seemingly casual shrug. Sure, that was totally normal non-stalker behavior. He smirked. "It worked."

Brow lifting, my lips twisted into an unconvinced pucker. "That sounds an awful lot like stalking. Wait, you were passing through on your way to New York? What about the house? And where are my clothes?"

His lips twisted into a smirk as he snickered slightly. Pulling away from the couch, he sat up on his knees, unrolling his sleeves. His fingers started at the second button from the top, pulling each one loose.

It was hard not to stare at his chest in the light of the fire. His shirt, as usual was some expensive button up. He never tucked them in, nor buttoned them all the way. Usually his cuffs were rolled to his elbows. Somehow he made it look so perfect, that to see someone in a tie looked wrong even if he, too, was wearing something as nice as the high-dollar brands Damien wore. My father would have hated the way he rolled the sleeves, and never tucked in the tail of his shirt. I couldn't remember ever seeing my father in anything but a dress shirt and tie. Even at home.

His broad sculpted shoulders rolled back, shrugging out of the shirt fluidly before he turned back to me. "Your clothes were wet, and muddy. I didn't want you to catch a cold. Figured you had enough to deal with. They're being washed." His skin was as pale as mine, something that I hadn't really noticed before. Each muscle was even more sculpted than I had imagined from his bare chest right on down to his low abs. Every muscle was a tightly woven cord winding through his body.

Gently, his hands slid around my shoulders, lifting me to sit up. As if I forgot to breathe, I had to catch my breath when he touched my bare skin. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck pricked, tingling as his hands brushed down my arms, guiding my hands in through the sleeves slowly. It hurt my left arm quite a bit. Nevertheless, I kept the pain silently to myself.

As the blanket fell to my lap, he slid the shirt slowly up my arms, the cuffs left to hang past my fingers. The fabric tickled the goose bumps on my arms. It almost felt like silk it was so soft. "Give me your hand, I can roll them up." The smell was just as overwhelming. It was him, but wrapped around me in a druggy euphoria. Of course, that could also have been partially due to the narcotics.

"I like it this way." With my cheeks blazing crimson, my fingers re-buttoned the more important buttons, though I didn't bother with the rest.

Twisting myself so I could relax into the back of the couch, he kept facing sideways leaning closer to me. It almost made me feel self-conscious. Slowly but surely we'd maneuvered to where we were leaning closer and closer to one another.

"The house? I bought the day I decided to start at Riads. Before then, I was staying at the Residence Inn. You can call and ask if you want." Damien's arm lay over the high backside behind me.

"Thank you," I mumbled out faintly while my fingers wound spirals through the long locks of my damp, tangled hair.

Damien gave a light nod. "I know you're tired, Anna. You should try to get some rest." He was right of course. My body was more spent than I was willing to admit. I couldn't keep up with the thoughts any more. My mind was spinning too fast.

A blur of emotions and questions sent me into a complete dizzy. I didn't want to sleep. Not now. If I slept now I would dream for one thing, which was never a good option in my opinion. For another, my mind surely couldn't slow enough to even allow me to close my eyes even for a second at this point.

Damien brought me back to attention with another sigh. His hand came up to brush the stray hairs from my face, pulling my hand out of a tangled braid my fingers were absently weaving. Damien's other hand came up taking the fidgeting fingers into his as his arm replaced around my shoulders, gently pulling me to lie down against him.

Mumbling with a halfhearted laugh, "Sleep is for the dead." I couldn't resist him even if I had wanted to. My head found his thigh. Just as my cheek lay onto him, my eyes were already closed.

"Trust me, the dead don't sleep, Anna." Damien ran his hand through my hair.

Mumbling, already near unconsciousness, I argued futilely, "Sleep is for the weak then."

Running as fast as I could, I flew through a thicket of bush tangled with briar, and angry thorn vines. The sounds of the crackling twigs crunched and snapped beneath my bare feet as I moved. They shredded my skin as I fought past them. I felt each individual slice rip into my flesh with the burn of acid. Panting out each gust of smoke like vapor in my rush, my breath was thick in the air. Coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the field, I turned to see behind me. Turned to see what it was that I was running from. I heard nothing. No one chasing me. I saw no beast following. I stood motionless squinting to see through the fog for the danger. Through the night, I saw what looked to be a tiny black house with a dull orange glow from the inside. I stood there panting. Staring for what felt like forever, like I was trying to see more. Or maybe I was frozen in fear. It was then I realized the orange glow was getting bigger. The glow was no normal light. The house was burning. The fog was smoke. I felt pricks begin to scrape against my skin again, dragging around my ankles. Instinctively, I started trying to pull my feet away so I could run, but it was too late. Looking down, I saw the wicked black thorn vines had wrapped my legs tightly, tangling me up, piercing deep into my flesh. They drug me down against my will, proceeding to enwrap my entire body. Screaming as I was being pulled, the vines were pulling me in the direction of the burning house. I was going to burn. No matter how much I fought, it just made it worse. They fought harder. Wrapping me tighter. Digging in deeper.

That night I burned. It wasn't the first time however it lasted longer than most. This one had been a fighter. It wasn't the girl who died, but a young boy. We all suffered his pain of death, every lick of flame that touched his skin greedily.

I couldn't be sure what woke me, the sensation of a dreamed death or my own violently pounding heart. With a jolt, I woke. My breath was raspy, heavy, accelerated as my body ached terribly.

The darkness of night from the large window told me as usual I had not slept long. Before now, I had not registered a single feature of the house. The window itself was barren with not a curtain or gossamer shawl. It was nearly as large as the wall itself.

Every muscle in my body throbbed, and ached, alerting me to the vastness of my injuries. My lips felt as if they had been glued shut. As I pried them apart, I could feel the skin crack, torn around the stitches on my bottom lip.

Unlike last time, I awoke knowing exactly where I was, just what all had happened to me, and that I hadn't even begun to hope it had all been just a dream.

With a quick mental examination of my current state of body, I felt a snug wrap around my ankle, another around my knee. My left hand was wrapped from my palm down past my wrist. Immediately I remembered I had no pants. All I was wearing was Damien's shirt, a bra, and underwear.

I gave a brief thought for being grateful they were one of my nicer sets. It would have been a million times worse to have been found in old pink panties with faded hearts on them. Hell yeah I had some. Faded superwoman boy cuts, too. Don't lie. Every woman has something in the drawer that's for her eyes only.

The fire was going strong. It gave a nice cast of light over my immediate surroundings, but to see it made me shudder with the memory of its deadly kiss. The room was large, though scarce. From the look of things, it must have come furnished. It was so impersonal. Unnatural in its perfect order.

There were no boxes thrown about. No pictures or knickknack items. Just an expensive brown leather chair that matched the couch. One end table on barren hardwood floors. Nothing more to tell me who Damien D'Tera was.

Just as I started to sit up, Damien came back into the room, turning the stereo down a few notches. "I'm sorry if it was too loud. Music is sort of a vice of mine." Shinedown. Can't argue that.

Damien winced as he looked at me before quickly averting his eyes to the floor. So not only did I feel like hell, I looked it, too. How lovely. My right hand quickly combed through my hair to try to sort out the mess of tangles. Oh, what I would have given for a fully stocked bathroom, and some privacy right then.

"Did you sleep well?" Damien let out a tired sigh as he came around to perch on the arm of the couch furthest from me.

"Mine, too. Don't worry it wasn't the music. Shinedown is one of my favorites anyway." Though it was very slight, I smirked. "And I never sleep well," it hurt like hell to talk, but I was more understandable despite how swollen my face was.

My legs stung horribly with hundreds of cuts covering them from my knees down. Fortunately, his couch was brown leather, plus I was on a blanket as well as wrapped in one so most likely I didn't get blood everywhere. At least I hoped not.

"I know. I'm sorry for the ignorant question. I just hoped since you slept for so long-" His eyes narrowed quizzically as he looked at me with a twisted frown, and a devastatingly ravenous look in his eyes. "You're bleeding."

My gaze quickly fell from his. "My legs are cut up." I hadn't looked. I could feel it though. "I don't think it was enough to stain the couch or anything. I can wash it out of the blankets. How long did I sleep?" The leg I could still move freely I pulled under me. My whole body from the neck down hid under the blanket.

"You slept for over a day. It's about two in the morning, Saturday." I'd been at the docks Thursday night around six. He slid down off the arm onto the cushion beside me gracefully. "And I could care less about the couch. Let me see your legs." Carefully, Damien lifted my bad leg while tugging the other out from the blanket into his lap.

"I never sleep more than a few hours, are you sure?" He nodded at my question as his jaw clinched tightly. The thought bewildered me. I hadn't slept more than five hours at max in a night in over five years. Hell, no wonder I felt like crap and needed a bathroom. My breath had to have smelled like a dead cat.

Each thin leg was reddened, hot to the touch. Both marred with scratches, each oozing blood. "How?" that was all he seemed able to say as his shaking fingers hovered over individual cuts while too afraid to touch them. Some were obviously deep where the thorns had dug in, drawing larger swells of blood to drizzle down my shins. Others were shallow, and long from where the deathly vines had drug over my flesh. "You never moved from the couch... You never cried out."

"No idea. It just happens. Don't worry, they'll be gone soon. They don't hurt that much. It's okay. You can touch them, it won't hurt me." My hand waived dismissively. I didn't want him to see this. Didn't want him to know this part of me. It felt wrong. Not even Neesa or Paul knew about this part. Even Neesa wouldn't have believed this if I'd told her.

Damien's fist balled as he put his hand over his mouth clearing his throat. As we sat there they were already healing, enough so all the blood had begun to dry. The marks would be gone in the next hour or so.

"I've never seen anything like this before." His hands trembled while reaching toward a small cut on my pale thin leg, yet still never touching. "Why are you so hot? Your skin is really red. Do you feel sick?"

Shaking my head, I looked down away from him. How could I say these things aloud? "Anna... if you can't tell me what's wrong, and your fever is this bad, I won't have a choice but to take you to a hospital. There's only so much I can do for you here."

Just get it over with. He'll believe you or he won't, it's too late to hide the truth now. "In the dream I was cut by thorns, and then I was drug and burned." Neither of us spoke for a minute. He looked down at my bare legs, tracing his finger carefully to avoid the blood smears.

"My parents thought I was doing this to myself for attention. They almost put me in some kiddie psych ward because of those dreams." The look on his face said it all. There was no appropriate response to such a detail of my life.

For some unknown reason, maybe the drugs, I continued, "My father is a doctor. When therapy and the psychoanalyst weren't helping, he admitted me into the hospital. They ran every test on me that existed. I spent years going in for MRIs, CT scans, and blood tests. They couldn't find anything wrong with me other than they said my joints were weak. This is the third time that ankle has been broken. Speaking of which, thank you." I held up my left hand. He'd done a pretty good job.

"Don't thank me. I feel bad enough as it is, seeing you like this." His fingers traced light circles over the white bandage wrapped tightly around my ankle. As if on cue, he reached over to the side table, picking up an open bottle of water, and the bottle of Vicodin, handing them both to me.

"It's not your fault. I don't think you asked him to kill me." I drank down most the water with two of the pills. He took the little orange bottle back, setting it down for me. "Though if you did, well I guess then you're allowed to feel guilty." My fingers reached for his slowly. I wasn't afraid of Damien. Not at all. Embarrassed by the freak that I was perhaps, yet even still, a part of me wanted to tell him. Sometimes it was hard to stop actually. It seemed like I could tell him anything.

"Well, perhaps I will just take up following you around. At least then maybe I can keep you safe." His fingers linked in with mine loosely. "Or at least not broken." After taking in a deep breath, and letting it out heavily, he finally turned to look at me.

"Why did you want to take off anyway? I mean you said you weren't really going to Florida."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "No, I was going up to New York. I was going home to see my family. About halfway there I turned around, deciding to come back."

"Okay you may not be lying, but you're nowhere near the whole truth yet." My hands pulled from his as I lay back into the couch, my legs stayed strewn across his lap all too comfortably.

"You don't miss much of anything, do you?" As Damien chuckled, it seemed to shake his shoulders. However the laughter was dark, and begrudging of him.

My eyes narrowed as my lips twisted into a very slight smirk. "You have no clue how much I don't miss. You wanna know some of the things you think you're hiding but you're not? I'll tell you if you like." Sometimes I have no filter. This was one of those times.

"You have my full attention." He leaned closer. Not jostling my legs in the slightest he laid over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he lay close to me.

My synapses were firing like crazy. They had been since I'd woken. Things were clicking into place. My eyes were narrowed in on his, nearly lost in the gleaming green depths, and hypnotized by the reflection of the dancing fire.

Damien's body was taut as his eyes remained focused on mine so forcefully I thought if he looked any harder he would be able to read my mind. "Go on," Damien's voice grew tense.

It took a moment to break my gaze from his, but once I did, I went on like any other raving lunatic. "You really hate the sight of blood. So much that you find it difficult to even look at me. Your whole body gets tight. I have never seen someone look so uncomfortable unless it made them sick. That's not it though, if it made you sick, you'd get that same nauseous look that other people get. Therefore, it's not that. You almost look like you're angry about it." It sucked having him look at me like that. To feel as if looking at me was so awful he couldn't stand it. Deep breath.

Damien's brows lift slightly. His eyes penetrating into mine in such a way it felt like an invasion of my mind and body. "And?" his voice was thick with strain, but there was the strangest glint in his eyes.

"In the Jeep last night you held your breath until you rolled the window down. That night you burned everything my blood touched. Of course, there was my loft, too. It was very dark, Damien... I only knew the blood was there because I'd left it there. Just now you knew I was bleeding when I was covered up with a blanket. Plus you're not denying it, and calling me crazy like everyone else would," I spit it all out in a rush. My lips moving feebly, I spoke barely above a whisper, but he heard me. I knew he did.

The arm holding him up slid under me behind my back, the other laying carefully to my neck turning my face to his. His lips touched as light as they could to mine. He didn't want to hurt me so he was exceedingly gentle.

The breath he let go swept against my cheek leaving a chill on my skin. His lips placed once more to my cheek before gently though swiftly sliding away from me. "I would have regretted it for eternity if I hadn't stolen one last kiss."

It took me a moment to come up with something to say that didn't sound idiotic, "Um, why was it the last time? If you don't mind my asking." I'd known it was coming. I just hadn't known when. Here was the moment he said get lost. Why the regret though?

"Because you're far too observant as you've pointed out. So it's better I tell you everything than to allow you to come to your own conclusion about myself. Especially now." He observed me for a reaction, but all I could do was wait for him to speak. I was confused.

"I knew you were bleeding because I can smell your blood better than a shark. It's not that I don't like it, Anna... It is entirely the opposite. That in itself is indeed quite frustrating for many reasons."

Damien observed my every motion. I took in a slow deep breath as my stomach twisted into a knot. Heat rose up from the core of my body. His eyes were still locked on mine. "You never ate in the restaurant. You never even finished a drink. You picked me up like it was nothing when you brought me here. Like you were carrying a small cat instead of a full grown person." I waited patiently while his lips couldn't resist twisting into a smirk.

"I didn't eat or drink at work because they do not serve what my body needs, and uses as sustenance. Then again for that, I would probably have to go to a hospital or a blood bank."

"I dreamt about you," my voice came out in a whisper. Nothing made sense any more. Maybe this was all a joke or some very strange hallucination. "What are you?"

"What did the dream tell you?"

"You had really long hair at one time." That you could never possibly love me. "Who are you?"

As if slapped, Damien flinched. "You won't like it."

"I dream of witches, fairies, and monsters, Damien. Demons that come out of the shadows to rip innocent people into shreds. I watch the shadows suck up their blood until there is nothing left. Last night I fell asleep and dreamed of a young boy who was murdered by magic vines dragging him into a house consumed by fire to burn alive, and when I woke I had his wounds. It takes a lot to scare me. What are you?" We sat still as stone staring at one another. Neither of us spoke above a whisper.

"A monster... Like the shadows... Like the demons." His eyes were not begrudging, they were challenging me somehow. A spark of light not cast by the fire danced inside of him. It was that light that pushed for me to want to know more.

My eyes tightened as he compared himself to the demons. "I don't believe that." He wasn't a monster. He wasn't anything like the evil I had seen in those dreams.

"But I am. You pay attention. You notice everything. You heard what I said. What do you think I am, Lianna?"

"You're not a monster. You're not a demon."

"You're wrong. I'm all of that and much more. You know what I am. I'm a Vampire, Lianna. You know that. Much like the monster at the docks that attacked you." I flinched involuntarily. "See? You know what I say is true. Do you understand what I am saying, Lianna?"

My eyes narrowed as I watched him. My body was still as stone. Goose bumps rose on my flesh as a chill rushed up my spine painfully. "Are you making fun of me?" anger tainted my voice like venom. His expression faltered from calm seriousness to complete confusion. With one last glance at him, I braced my hand to the arm of the couch, and stood up. Limping, I staggered towards the door. "I'm going home."

Back to calm. "Not that I will stop you, however I feel I should remind you, you're not only severely injured, but you have no clue where we're at. It's nearly three in the morning. Not to mention all you're wearing is my shirt. Nonetheless, I think the look is quite becoming. Although if you do truly wish to leave then please allow me to drive you home. Tell me to stay away, and you will never see me again. You have my word."

I couldn't look at him. "I was wrong about you. You're not an ass. You're a complete bastard." My hands came up to cover my face. As if hiding my eyes would contain my sanity.

Standing with my back to him, I stared ahead at the door as I spoke the worst truth of all, "Do you want to know the worst part? Do you have any idea how much I wish you weren't lying? How much I wish you weren't playing games with me. Sometimes I wonder why I bother with the whole human race. I trusted you," I sounded angry, and pathetic. It made the anger grow, and spread through my veins like fire.

Without a sound of movement, suddenly his hands slid around my waist holding me against him in a way that made me weak. "Then I would ask you sit back down, and talk to me. Please?" a faint sound of desperation tainted his calm. "Just one night, Lianna. Give me this one night. I will tell you everything you could possibly want to know, and more. You've given me so much, but please just this one last thing," he sounded desperate. How had I have given him anything?

"I understand what you're feeling, but I am asking you please, Lianna, hear me out," his words were calm, and rational. His tone was pleading, anxious even. The last three words enunciated as if each were a single sentence.

I couldn't speak. If I did, I would have screamed. "You're the one who sees my differences so clearly. Do you really not believe me now?" My head hung forward in defeat. My trembling hands laid over his.

With utter ease, he picked me up from the floor, scooping me up into both arms. "So should I call you kitten?" The word pinged off my id making me flinch away from him as he mocked my accusation without an ounce of emotion. He sat down holding me in his lap. Despite the pain, I pulled away, scooting into my own seat.

Still angry over his stupid joke, I didn't say anything. Of course he'd had no idea the man who attacked me had called me that. Not that I would ever tell him now.

Damien's eyes were narrow. His brow furrowed as he looked away from me muttering. His hand ran over his face as he let out a deep breath as he turned back to me. "All right, Lianna, I'm going to ask you to be open-minded, and tolerant of me. Above all else know that I will not hurt you. I swear it."

My eyes narrowed speculatively as I stayed quiet, allowing him his peace before I made him drive me home. He'd taken care of me when no one else would've been able, if they'd ever noticed me missing. I could give him a few tolerant hours. "I have not lied to you since you've been here, Lianna. I can prove that to you if you promise me that you will try to stay calm, and just try to find your faith in me again." Still scowling, I nodded just once to make him proceed.

As his eyes stayed locked with mine his brow furrowed down. After a moment, he sighed. His mouth opened, his lips curled back, showing me just how insane I'd become. "For someone so observant it's shocking you haven't seen them already."

He spoke clearly, enunciating carefully. His top and bottom canines were double the length of most people's teeth. They were sharpened to incredible pearly white points. Fangs. Could it be possible?

There was a long stretch of silence before I found my voice, "The opposite. You wanted it?"

He shrugged, nodding his agreement. "So much that it's nearly painful." I winced at the knowledge. Unconsciously my legs tucked underneath me. Only a few traces of wet blood were left, but I hated the idea that I had caused him pain.

"It's tolerable. Some pain can be quite pleasurable you know." He grinned wickedly for just a second.

I was forced to ignore that comment. "And those are real?" doubt stained my voice. How could I help it?

Disbelief flashed through his eyes as he laughed out darkly. "Yes, of course they're real."

"But I've kissed you. I never-"

His brow rose skeptically. "Think clearly, Lianna. Pull the emotion away from the memory. Think back to each kiss. Not to be crude, but you couldn't have noticed. I'm too careful for that." My eyes widened. He was right- my tongue never went past his lips.

Deep breath. "Are they retractable? How do I know they're not implants?" After all I'd never noticed them before. My brows lift as I looked up at him curiously, staring at his mouth. "Can I touch one?"

Damien's brow lifted skeptically. "You're not serious. No, they aren't retractable. You really do watch too many bad movies." There was the look I've been all too familiar with throughout my life: Someone coming to the realization of my lacking sanity.

My face scrunched. It hurt. Relaxed. I still looked grumpy. Sigh. "Please? I just want to look." My eyes widened just faintly. I could be really good at the pleading when need be. Probably not too successful looking all beaten to hell though. No sad puppy faces when your eyes are black, and your lips are double their normal size.

"Anna, I don't think that's a good idea. Really, you don't understand how sharp they are." His lips pressed to a hard line, concealing his teeth from me. He shook his head in disapproval.

"I won't touch the very tip." Slowly I scooted closer. I wanted to be near him, but I wouldn't let myself be close enough to cause him pain.

His brow creased deeply. Smirking slightly he crooked a finger at me. "You can come closer you know. It doesn't bother me that badly any more. I'm getting used to it. Or are you afraid of me?" The smirk faded away.

It seemed mean, but I laughed. "Not hardly."

His brow arched skeptically. "Hmm. Prove it." A mischievous glint caught in his eye as he spread his arms open expectantly. I love a good dare. Using my good leg, and good hand, I maneuvered closer slowly. Our eyes locked. All the while, he seemed to be taunting me silently. It took a moment for me to manage, but I crawled up into his lap.

It wasn't until I was in his lap of my own accord that his arms locked around me, twisting me gently to make me more comfortable. "Much better. You're such a strange little thing. Can't say I don't love that about you though. You are brave, too, I'll give you that one."

My eyes rolled. "Then why won't you show me your fangs?"

"You're sure about this?" I nodded sternly. He chuckled. "All right fine. Your funeral." He laughed as my eyes widened. "I'm kidding. Or am I? Still brave enough to find out?" I glared. His mouth opened, giving a playful menacing nip at the air in my direction. After a moment, his jaw opened as his lips curled back. It was like a dog baring its teeth in warning.

I reached for him, yet paused after a second. "Okay, close your eyes. You're looking at me funny."

"I'm sorry. It's not every day someone asks to touch my fangs." He shook his head at the dark humor. You could see the question roll over him again, wondering if I really was nuts. Probably. Actually, yes, definitely. For the first time in my life that didn't feel like a bad thing at all, either.

"That and you did just accuse me of being one incredibly disturbed fraud. You know, that is just a bit insulting considering the evidence, that you may I add, laid out before us just moments ago."

"Well people do it! How could I know? Maybe I do believe you. Now I want to see them. So close your eyes, and open up, Vampire!" My lips were stuck between a smirk and a grin as I tapped on his fuzzy chin with my index finger lightly. "Come on open up."

His laugh was a hard loud Hah! "So wait a second. You do believe me then?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe. I mean, you're definitely not normal. It would sort of explain some things. Then again you won't even let me see your teeth so how do I know they're real?" To that he rolled his eyes.

"Okay! Fine, let's say I believe you. I just have one question." I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly, mocking him.

Damien's seemed to glimmer with amusement as he grinned teasingly. "Just one. You're sure?" He was making fun of me. Hard glare. Owe. Soft glare.

"Aren't there rules about you telling me all of this?" My hands were talking with my mouth again. "Or are you going to kill me now that you've told me all your secrets?" Sure, I looked like I was teasing. Kind of have to put up the protective wall when you talk about your impending doom and all.

"Oh I haven't told you even half of them, sweetheart. As for the other part, maybe I'll get to that a bit later. Not real hungry just yet." He winked, leaning back into the couch casually as his fingers played with a strand of my hair.

I gulped involuntarily, which made him laugh more openly. "So why are you telling me all of this?"

"I told you." His eyes caught mine as a light smile lifted his lips. "I'm not going to lie to you any more. If you ask, so be it. If you run? Well I have ways of taking care of that, too. However, I don't think you will. Though you're right, I am surprised. You go from storming out half naked because you think I am lying about being a Vampire-"

My jaw dropped, eyes narrowing. "No, no, don't interrupt. I want to get this straight. –then you accuse me of being one of those complete cult freaks you hear about on CNN. To taking another one-eighty, so suddenly that you are in a moderately better mood- Don't give me that look. And now, you want to play... with my fangs. Just saying, it's a trip."

My wrapped hand resumed creeping up his collarbone, closer to his neck to work my way to his mouth. "I'll let you in on a secret. I've seen stranger things than most people ever have dreamed of for my entire life, things far more disbelieving than you. Things that destroyed more than the better half of my life." He flinched.

"Now finally something good is coming out of it." His brow rose in a look of confusion. "You, Damien." I sighed. He smiled faintly. "Anyway you said I was weird, now you know the full truth of it. Now shut your eyes so I can see them!"

Damien laughed deeply now. Laying his head back, closing his eyes, he opened his mouth slightly. How had I not seen them before? "So if I did cut my finger by accident what would you do?" I couldn't help but ask. Trying to mentally distract myself from the much scarier things I had seen in my days.

"Eat you for dinner." He smirked, however kept his eyes closed.

"You're such a liar." My fingers brushed his lip slowly tracing the flesh from one end to the other. He shivered visibly though kissed my finger. That made me smile for all I was worth. Pain be damned. Gently, I pulled his lower lip down. His teeth snapped suddenly, missing the flesh purposefully. I jumped. In retaliation, I thumped him hard in the chest with my good hand as I tapped his lips expectantly with the other.

He chuckled, resuming for dental examination. My finger stroked carefully against the front of his bottom fang, running up the length of it. "How'd you hide them before?"

You know you're really something when a Vampire thinks you're the freak. It took a lot of restraint not to touch the tip. A whole lot, trust me. I hovered over it for just a second before he started, carefully pulling away.

Finally I pulled back trailing my fingers down his lips, then to his neck. When I looked up he was watching me intently. "I learned to speak holding my lips in a manner that conceals them is all. Tell me something?" I waited with raised brows. "I just explained that you make me hungry. That doesn't bother you? Your blood is what sustains my existence. I feed on blood like you eat chickens."

He gave me a minute as if waiting for this to absorb. More so, I tried to think of a way to explain. "I'm not avoiding the question, but let me ask you this. Do you think of me as a chicken?" my brow arched, amazingly I sounded as serious as I had intended. It would have been harder not to laugh, if laughing wouldn't have hurt like it did.

"That's ridiculous."

"Does the idea of making out with a chicken appeal to you?" His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he wasn't sure how to respond. "There are many ways a person can be hungry, Damien... Even humans don't only eat when they're hungry. Some eat to fill themselves in other ways. The blood sustains your existence as you put it, the way food sustains mine. But are people not hungry for so much more? You fill me in a way that no meal ever could." I laughed lightly shaking my head. "That sounds silly, doesn't it?"

He smiled lightly as his lips brushed my jaw line. "No, I understand perfectly. You're right. There is one thing that every creature hungers for no matter supernatural or otherwise. You do satiate that craving quite well." What feeling might that be?

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. This is just as difficult for me to tell you as it is for you to take in. The way you've taken it. I didn't know what to expect, but certainly not for you to be so calm. So understanding."

Gleaming peridot gems stared down at me with a curious sense of wonder. "I have seen the typical reactions. Usually it's either intense fear or complete shock. Of course you did take some convincing." His teasing smirk returned.

My eyes rolled. "Well, if you were going to eat me for dinner as you put it, seems like you would have done so by now at least. And come on, I'm a bigger abnormality than you are. Look at my legs." I motioned down to my bare ivory flesh that had completely healed, though still warm to the touch with dried smears of blood that seemed to come from nowhere at all.

He didn't respond other than gently running his hands up and down my shins soft as a stroking feather. It was my turn to shiver.

"So you've told other people then?" Yeah I know it's really stupid to be jealous over something so trivial, but cut me some slack.

Damien's lips pulled into a smirk. "Just a few." He glanced down at my legs before gently lifting my good knee up. Leaning down, his lips lingered a kiss over a small scrape from my fall. "And yes they are abnormally beautiful." Lowering my leg, he resumed stroking.

My cheeks warmed so much I had to look down. "You're sweet, considering one's swollen to double in size, plus black and blue. From my toes on up no less."

In all regards, I was hideous. Aside from that, I didn't need a mirror to know my face was abysmal, and both my eyes were black by now, too. Let's not discuss the concave cheek or rat's nest of hair on my head.

"Bruises heal, Anna. They change nothing." A hand reached and placed under my chin. His gaze held mine. I could feel the strangest of tingles deep down as if he were looking into my soul. The feeling was so intense that my breath was caught.

His thumb stroked softly over my swollen stitched lip. "You're beautiful, Lianna. So incredibly strong. If it were possible for my heart to ever beat again, it would be for you, and you alone."

I looked away from him. I needed time to process. Fear and doubt churned my stomach to challenge my fluttering heart.

"How did they react when you told them?" He seemed pretty good at keeping up with my jumping back and forth from topic to topic. I couldn't help it. Vicodin makes me ramble a lot.

"Everyone's a little different. Granted, there was one psychiatrist who thought I was mental also." His brow lift and he gave me a rather crude accusatory look. I shrank down apologetically. Hey, I'd met Goths who tried to make people think they were Vampires before in my defense.

"No reaction has ever been the exact same of course. One individual went crazy however. They committed him. Sadly, this was in the early nineteen-twenties when they first started experimenting with lobotomies. I felt a lot of guilt for revealing myself to him. He hadn't deserved that fate. Until you in fact, I'd sworn I would never tell another soul for as long as I existed."

"It's hard isn't it? Keeping who you are secret." He seemed mildly surprised by my reaction. Thoughtful. At last he nodded. "I know it's not the same thing, trust me I know. But, I get it. I mean my entire life I've been taught to hide who I am. None of my friends know to this extent." I waved a hand at my legs. "Mother and father never believed me. They said no one could ever know. My brother..." I shook my head. Couldn't go there. Every time I thought of him it hurt. It more than hurt. He'd betrayed me more than anyone else ever had.

"A few people know I have nightmares. Neesa. Her mother." I cringed. "Anytime people find out anything near the truth they-" my voice broke. I looked away from him out the window. Not that I could see out. Deep breath. "Things don't go well."

Damien's hand came up and brushed the hair from my cheek slowly. "I hope you feel comfortable enough with me that you don't think you have to hide anything."

I didn't know what to say so I glanced at him, and then back to the window. "I know that's how I feel with you. I mean obviously, right?" He chuckled darkly. "However, just the same I want you to know that I won't ever keep secrets from you, Lianna. I have lied to you, yes, but I will never do so again. I want you to trust me."

Too intense. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out in a gust. "Okay then. So what's it feel like to smell my blood? And what about sunlight? Why can you go out in the day?"

I had so many questions. If he wasn't going to hide anything from me, I might as well ask them all I figured. "What about garlic, and stakes? Silver?"

He sighed. I sure made him do that a lot. "Your blood is the best torture I could possibly imagine. I have a lot more self-control than most Vampires do however. Thus the reason I can withstand it. Despite what it does to me."

He watched me. Waited. I didn't react. Then he continued, "As for sunlight we're a good bit weaker. Hurts our eyes a lot more than it would yours. Imagine being in the dark for weeks then staring straight into the sun. We can get used to it, and cope fine, but it's always uncomfortable.

"Stakes, garlic, or silver, and mirrors for that matter, all myths. We can be injured, and die of course. Nothing is truly immortal. We just have a gift for longevity. It takes a lot to bring one of us down permanently."

"Where do the myths come from then? What about strength? You pick me up pretty easily like I said before." My head lay down against his shoulder, still staring out the window. Idly his hand stroked my back.

"We created the myths to protect us over time. Some people created them out of fear. Justly so I might add. Strength, yes lots. Compare our muscles more to steel cables next to dental floss." He shrugged slightly. Damn. I probably shouldn't have found that to be so attractive, yet I did. "We're quite fast, too."

This was all so much to process! "So come on, out with it. How old are you? What kind of longevity are we talking here?" His hand slid into my right, twining our fingers together as we leaned against one another.

"Well we count in decades after the first hundred years. So somewhere around sixty give or take. I don't remember being turned. Also, I keep track less than most of our kind even."

"Wait so are you sixty years old, or sixty decades?" My brow creased as I quickly double-checked the math in my head.

Suddenly we were lying together on the couch again. His arm behind my shoulders and neck the other against my stomach. Damien wrapped his leg around my good one, careful not to touch the other.

He'd moved so quickly and fluidly I was barely even jostled. Though it left me startled, I admit. Taking a deep breath, I decided to just accept it without comment. He grinned.

"I told you, I'm older than most. About six hundred years give or take as I said. Is that a problem?" His face nestled into the crook of my neck and drug his lips across the hollow of my throat slowly. "I don't remember much of the beginning of my life. Nothing from being human, so I can't be exact."

"I-it's a little older than I expected." Damien nestled into me, letting his lips lay unmoving against my neck. The silence lingered on peacefully for a few minutes while he allowed me to process.

"Wow. You must have seen so many things. Experienced so much. It must be amazing to know everything you do after living through so much." My mind wondered at the possibility of getting to live through all of the most amazing ages in our history. I was in total awe.

"You know I am taking ancient history in college, now here I am talking to ancient history while he smells my neck. That's so weird." I giggled with a touch of hysteria as he chuckled. Ah, Vicodin.

"Only you could look at it so carefree. I suppose when you put it that way I am as old as dirt I guess. At least some dirt." He shrugged carelessly.

His lips having not left my throat resumed kissing along my neck, nape, and even down the first open button of my shirt. Each kiss lingered, slowly dragging along my flesh. I can't lie. My body was responding noticeably.

"You said if I freaked and ran you could handle that. What about the get what you want stuff? Is that whole mind control thing real?" That would open a lot of nasty questions.

He chuckled. Finally pulling back enough to look up at me, his chin placed on my chest. "It's not mind control though most people think it is. Let's just say I know what people want. How the human mind works. It just amounts to a few hundred years of studying the human race, along with knowing more about psychology than Sigmund Freud.

"In fact I actually met him once. The guy was a lunatic, and completely stuck on himself. Da Vinci however, absolutely brilliant. And he by the way, really thought Vampirism was fascinating. I nearly turned him, but in the end, I thought his body was too old to survive the change. Truly wished I could have met him in his youth."

"You knew Da Vinci? Oh wow... and Freud! Who else? Any other famous people? I would give just about anything to have a chance to have seen the things you have. Da Vinci..." My mind wandered off into a short daydream. Leonardo Da Vinci was my most prominent historical idol. I had read every book I could ever get my hands on about him. I had watched every documentary ever made.

Oh yes. I am nerd. Hear me roar.

Damien's shoulders tensed a little bit. He didn't comment on my remark, but his eyes watched me intensely.

A few seconds after the thought came to him it hit me, too. Someone turned him into what he is. It would be possible. However, the price would be my mortality, perhaps more than that as well.

We lay in silence a very long while. Each of us busy in our minds, contemplating the same things: fate, mortality, immortality, the costs and the rewards of either. A million thoughts flooded into my mind all at once so much so they were scrambled into one another as one big tangled web. I knew on the surface it seemed appealing, however the grass on the other side is never as green as it appears. I'm not that stupid.

The only reasonable question I could think of I already knew the answer to, at least for myself. I wanted to hear his thoughts on the matter. "Is it worth it?" He stayed quiet. He couldn't answer me.

I granted him the change of subject, likely to one that would make him more uncomfortable. "I was passed out for a while when we got here." I looked to him curiously. "Did you taste my blood?"

"I kissed you." His hand lift, fingers brushing my lips softly then slid from my lips, down the center of my chest, around to my side.

"And? How was it?" Damien shook his head, closing his eyes while he did so. He wasn't answering that. "Would it hurt if you bit me?" my voice was barely above a whisper.

He shook his head no. I couldn't tell if it meant a no it won't hurt or if it was a no I wouldn't do it. "Would you be able to stop?" Without hesitation, he nodded. At least that was a comforting answer. One I could understand no less.

His hand slid under his shirt that I wore, squeezing my side lightly. He leaned closer, letting his lips go back to roaming over my neck with light kisses. "I – I won't stop you." His shoulders shook with a low chuckle.

"You couldn't... but I know," the soft whisper of his voice sent a chill up my spine. His lips brushed my neck with every word.

I gasped softly as his kisses grew more needy. "Do you want to?" His teeth grazed my throat, yet not against the tips so the flesh remained intact.

Damien spoke after another long series of kisses covering my neck down, "Do you?" It was my turn to nod.

Damien squeezed my hip firmly as his other hand slid beneath me, up my back, pulling my body into his firm but gentle. His mouth opened against my neck suckling so light I could barely feel more than the tickling caress of his lips with the cold trace of his tongue.

Cool breath blew over my throat as his mouth opened wider, pressing his teeth against the hollow of my throat, pulling the flesh slightly with his lips.

A sharp prick stiffened my body as his fangs sank into the base of my throat. He moaned deeply, his chest rumbled against mine. The pain was gone the instant it had come, replacing itself with a strange thrill of euphoria, and a new aching need. A new hunger.

As he sucked the blood out through the four small holes in my neck I could feel every pull. A deep groan throttled from his throat once more as his kiss deepened. His hands gripped me to him with aching need as my body arched into his.

Suddenly, I felt I'd been sucked into an Anne Rice novel gone strangely awry. I was not a victim. Not at all.

My right hand held to his neck, holding him to me tightly while my left held against his side. I didn't notice how deeply my nails dug into his bare flesh. He did. His entire body pressed firmly into mine. I gasped sharply.

An unexpected series of explosions went off inside of me everywhere at once causing a low moan to escape my lips as my hips pressed hard up against him. The pull on my throat lightened until all I could feel was his tongue tracing circles against my open flesh. How long had the moment lasted? No way of knowing.

"If only you weren't hurt." He sighed out wistfully. He had no idea how much I agreed with that. One hand stroked down my side, over my hips and between my legs, tickling my inner thigh with his fingers. "So warm," he mumbled out.

Cool lips returned to placing soft kisses along my skin. Damien's body relaxed into mine. His lips held against the bite tenderly. His body trembled slightly for a few minutes as we lay there in silence. My breathing, raspy and heavier as if I had been running, left me quite enamored.

"Well?" His hands stayed where they were though they behaved. His thumb stroked the small of my back steadily. I was still clinging tightly. As I realized that, I forced my hold to loosen, and my nails pulled away.

"Well." I gulped. Amazed at the fact I wasn't in pain. Not just my neck, but nothing hurt. Not my lip or my nose, not my eyes nor my cheek, nay my knee, not even my broken ankle. Not the broken wrist. Nothing hurt.

"Well, did it hurt?" He laughed lightly, laying his ear to my chest. He murmured softly, happily even as he lay listening to the erratic beat of my heart.

"No... It didn't hurt," I mumbled.

Damien sat up enough to look at me, concern narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong? Did I take too much? I swore I barely drank any at all." His hands slid out from under me as he hovered over me carefully and examined my neck. No blood even drizzled from the four tiny cuts.

"I'm fine, Damien, relax. Really. I just didn't expect... it to feel quite like that. Or do that." Exhaling a deep breath my cheeks flushed. He was right, if I wasn't hurt, neither of us would have stopped.

A coy smile splayed over his lips as he lay back beside me, letting his hand slide under the shirt to play over the tattoo on my side. My mouth opened to speak, yet nothing came out. A light tingling of pleasure tickled out through my every limb as a subtle reminder.

"You look uncomfortable. I don't understand." His brow furrowed. Six hundred years old, yet a woman could still dumbfound him? Nice. The more he stared at me the redder my cheeks grew. "What's wrong?"

It was the best non-sex I've ever had, that's what's wrong. "Well does that usually happen?" Looking awfully confused he asked what I meant. My cheeks were burning. My brows were high and taut. "When you bite someone, does it make them..." the sentence dropped off. My hand waved as if to say 'you know' when I wouldn't say anything.

"Ahh." Damien snickered as he lay down behind me, his arms sliding around me ever still. Fingers traced circles along my belly button. His hand slid back down between my thighs, tickling gently down my leg and back up, relishing the warmth of my body.

"No, that's never happened before. Though I'm not sure if I should apologize or not?" He snickered again. "It's not a bad thing, is it?"

My only answer was a shrug. He kissed my shoulder while waiting for me to speak. "Let's just say you're not the only one it's never happened to like that." I'm twenty, come off it. You didn't think I was a saint, did you? I folded my arms across my chest, tightly staring over at the fireplace. I felt like one of those BDSM freaks for a minute, getting off on nothing but being bitten.

His whole body seemed to pause in consideration. "I see." We lay quietly a moment. Each of us surely thinking of what to say. Just before I could change the subject, he asked the all too humiliating question. "Is it safe to assume you've never been with anyone then?" His hand trailed circles around my bare stomach, up my side tracing the exact pattern of the rose before trailing his fingers slowly down my thigh. Did he have any idea how much he was torturing me?

The roaming fingers made everything tingle. Distracting. "Yes it's safe to assume. I can't exactly have people sleep over when I regularly wake up cut up and bloody." It was a poor excuse, and he knew it. He waited for me to continue patiently.

"I never dated much. There was this guy, Paul, for like three months. We were better off as friends I guess. Grew up together. It was too weird for me. I could barely kiss him, and well... you heard John at the bar. People don't have to sleep in my house to know I'm a freak. Not the kind most guys like either."

This is so embarrassing. He's probably been with hundreds considering how old he is. Or even more! No, I don't even want to know. Oh, please someone put me out of my misery.

"Oh, the number's not nearly as high as you think." My body stiffened as my eyes went wide. Had I spoken out loud? Surely not... Yet how could he have heard me if I didn't?

With a whisper of a curse under his breath, he pulled back slowly. Then in the next second, he was across the room, his hands up in defense. "Please don't be angry. I can't help what I hear. Honestly though, I don't hear everything."

Sitting up, I stared at him wide eyed whilst waiting for the explanation I wasn't sure I wanted. "You seem to think faster, and focus on so much at once it usually keeps me from hearing much of anything. However when your mind is clearly focused, well it's no different than you speaking aloud."

My mind swirled into its usual haze of rambling thoughts all clustering into one another. He waved his hand in front of him as if showing me an example of myself. "Truly, right now I can't read a thing. Most people are different. Their thought process is so simple, well I hear everything. When your mind races in such a way it's like being blocked out."

How much had he heard? At the restaurant had he heard my thoughts about him? Could he hear my dreams?

The expressions on my face must have been comical to watch. Maybe all of this was some elaborate really well planned lie? No, no, I just didn't believe that. Even if I had wanted to.

Hah! Know the human mind, what people want. Well no wonder!

My thoughts were swirling into chaos. He sat down across from me in a large matching leather chair. I had so many questions! Questions he had no reason to answer. I owed him so much. He owed me nothing. "You can ask me anything, Lianna. I owe you far more than you could ever know."

"I need a minute." He nodded understandingly. We sat quietly for a very long time. He never moved. Didn't fidget. Just leaned his elbows on his knees watching a dwindling fire.

"Why do you think you owe me?" He'd said it before, it never made sense.

Running his hand against his chin until it held his cheek, he looked down as he contemplated what to say. Once he had his answer, he looked back to me. No smile, no coy look in his eyes. It wasn't his normal calm, just pure open honesty. "Hope. More than that even. You've made me feel alive again. You've given me light, when I've known nothing but dark."

"Can you turn it off?" When he looked confused for a moment, I tapped my forehead. He shook his head, looking rather unhappy as he did so. I imagine it wouldn't be all fun hearing thoughts day in and day out.

"No. Not really. I can try not to focus, like ignoring someone who's talking near you. I just try to spend most of my time alone, so I don't have to be bombarded with it as much." Carelessly he shrugged. "Ask me anything. I'm sure you want to."

"You never answered me before. Why did you really leave?" Curling my good foot under me, I sunk back into the corner of the couch.

He took a minute to himself again. Compiling his thoughts. Gaze on the fire. "It's a bit complicated, though I'll do what I can to explain. My brothers and sisters I'm sure you have figured out are not exactly related by blood. We've just been so close over the last hundreds of years we have come to call each other family. Claiming a living family draws attention away from us you see.

"I was going home to speak to one of my sisters. I thought she could help me understand things. Help me with you, to be specific. I'd never felt so pulled to someone." His eyes dropped to the floor before rising to meet mine.

"Help how exactly?"

Pause. Deep sigh. "You're the first woman I've ever loved. I wanted her advice on how to handle it. I didn't know what to do. If I could tell you. If you'd be better off without me interfering in your life."

"Why not call her?" I just wanted to understand.

He tapped his head. "To know what she was thinking. She wouldn't lie to me, but that doesn't mean she always shares willingly."

My brows lift as possibilities went through my head. "Can you all read minds? What more can you do? How many of your kind are there? What else is there? I mean if Vampires are real then are there werewolves gallivanting through the woods every full moon, too?"

"I'll go in order. Some can hear thoughts better than others. I don't know how or why it works. There is a lot more. More than I can explain in a night. That goes for abilities as well as what else is out there. Such as yes, there are werewolves, but not exactly like what you read about in stories."

Momentarily stunned, I sat back slumping into the couch absorbing what he was saying. Memories of my strange magical dreams flooded my thoughts confirming my gut instinct. It was not just a dream like everyone had said. "Wow, werewolves. Like wolf men, for real? Like on the full moon man into beast stuff? That's so crazy."

"Hollywood." Damien's head shook disapprovingly. "Not quite like that. All of the stuff you do know about is complete fiction ninety percent of the time. Sometimes someone gets something right. Strength, speed, those things usually." He sighed, but his eyes were optimistic as he looked at me. The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Are we okay?"

Slowly I gave a nod. "Yeah. We're okay." My head dropped into my hands. Wincing, I dropped my wrapped wrist onto my leg. My other hand ran through my hair. I shook my head in a weak attempt to clear my thoughts. "So what's the truth then?"

He stayed quiet a moment looking down to his hands. "It's difficult to explain."

"You can't seriously stop now! I mean come on you bit me. You can't leave it like that!"

He snickered looking back up to me with a smug grin. "If I remember accurately, and trust me I do, you enjoyed it nearly as much as I did. Yes, I do mean only nearly." Heat flushed through my whole body and burned out through my cheeks.

"Mmm." He looked down a moment, although he looked more satisfied at the recollection than embarrassed as I was. "Cherries." Still looking down, his lips spread to a broad grin. Cherries? Huh?

"Anyway. I didn't intend to leave you guessing. You must understand after hiding everything about my entire existence, and then suddenly finding myself unburdening these secrets is difficult for me. Certainly you understand that." I nodded. He smiled weakly.

"I've shown myself to others, though never so much, Anna. Most were accidents. I was younger. Had less control. Thought far too well of myself so I thought I didn't need to be careful." Another shake of his head. Memories? Good or bad? He shrugged. "Some of both."

Absently I picked at the wrap on my knee with my left hand. Aware of the pain, yet doing my best to ignore it. He stood from the chair across from me, and in a second he slid in against me. "How do you move so quickly?" My eyes were wide. That would take getting used to. I was sort of jumpy.

"As I stated before, just a special quality. We're faster than any human." He shrugged as he carefully pulled my bad leg into his lap, unwrapping it slowly. "We can let them breathe for now. Then I have to brace your wrist."

"All of you?" He nodded. "How fast can you go?" I sank down into the couch beside him as he unwrapped my ankle, too. If you've ever had an injury like these unwrapped you understand the relief, even if it's painful relief.

"We don't break the sound barrier or speed of light by any means, however faster than human eyes can focus. Never been clocked with a radar gun though personally." He chuckled briefly before the seriousness came back.

"How does your knee feel?" His cool fingers prodded at the swollen flesh gently before bending my leg slightly. His cold hands held carefully to me like a gentle ice pack.

"Sore, but better than it was. Believe it or not I heal quickly." If I didn't, I would be an invalid.

"As do we. Although not as instantly as the stories say. Blood does make us heal faster however." With a nod, he looked down at my ankle, which was still a wide range of colors mostly between blacks, and purples. "I wish I could do more," he mumbled more to himself than to me. Looking up at me though not meeting my eyes, his fingers brushed over my broken cheekbone. There was nothing he could do for that.

"No magic healers in the land of fairy creatures then, huh?" His brow rose in thought over my comment, though he never answered. "Tell me about the werewolves."

"They're not technically werewolves. They're spirit walkers. More commonly known as shifters. Day or night, full moon or new, they shift at will. They can change to any animal they like until they're full grown. At full maturity, they're spirits settle with one animal or another. You don't commonly see them in main stream society. They prefer to be closer to nature. Though yes, many prefer the form of the wolf, especially where they're common. However, no creature is off limits. They're far less human than even my kind are usually."

He continued flexing my knee carefully with his fingers spread over the kneecap feeling the movements as I lay there dumb founded. The joint ground roughly. He frowned. It hurt, but I knew it had to be done.

"I'd love to see that..." my voice took on a dreamy quality. To see such magic in real life! Miraculous. "So are there a lot of Vampires, and other magical creatures? Like compared to humans."

"Not near as many of us as there are of you, trust me. Maybe one of us to every twenty humans. At least I would give that average. I may be a little off."

"Us as in Vampires or all of the otherworldly creatures?" I'd never been so entranced. This was amazing, nearly as amazing as the impossible opportunity to sit down with Leonardo Da Vinci. He's so lucky! Then my knee popped. Though my lips clamped shut, the yelp was audible.

"Are you all right?" He eased my leg into his lap gently. I held my breath a moment as the shooting pain passed, then nodded. "I hate to tell you this, but I think you tore something."

I looked away. Shrugging hard and dismissively. Life's a bitch.

He sighed. "You think I'm lucky huh? Yeah, I suppose I am. Never thought either way on it to be honest. I'm not one to think much in terms of good things and bad. It's life. It's my existence. I've lived it well. Though well to others is not the same as it is to me, nor vice versa." He stared at me intently. His thumb stroked my knee gently. "And I mean all of us."

I shook my head in utter disbelief. "This is just so intense. I mean it's amazing! Unbelievably amazing. It's just so much to take in..." I felt stunned, quite literally.

"So you mean you don't want to know about the rest?" He smirked. Reaching to the end table, he handed me the bottle of water and Vicodin. One more down the hatch.

"Are you kidding? Of course I do." My brow rose curiously, pondering how he really got the bottle.

"Well let's see, you know about Vampires, and spirit walkers... There's still the Faye, and Immortals, they cover all your basic Crossbreeds. The Faye gets complex, there's so many variances of them that it would take forever to explain. A few other mortals who can use magic as well of course," his voice seemed to sneer as his words trailed off.

"Wait Crossbreeds? Like super natural mutts? What's next, the world is really flat?" My brow rose disbelievingly.

"You mean how different is the world you thought you knew?" Silently I nodded. "More different than you could even dream of." He gave me a wink.

"What's a Faye? Like a fairy?" My mind drifted back to my dreams when I was younger seeing magical little fairy creatures everywhere. She loved to play with them on the island.

"Yes, there are many different kinds of course, as I said. Some purely magic based so those are more like what you hear about in fairy tales. Like tinker bell sort of if that helps." He chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, I've seen those. Well okay, I haven't seen a real one. In my dreams I have," my voice trailed to a whisper as I looked down to my hands that were fidgety.

"You think they're real?" I nodded to his question refusing to look up to see his "you're loony" expression. Then he surprised me. "Surely the dreams are some sort of window then. What did you dream about last night?" I guess that answered my question on if he could see, or hear them rather.

An involuntary shudder spread through me as I remembered the dream so vividly. "It's hard to explain." He gave me time. "I'm not me in these dreams. I'm always this other girl. I have never dreamed of being anyone else. But she- When people die she feels their pain, she lives through their death. When they're being tortured, and everything that leads up to their death. It's her curse. Our curse. Last night there was a boy." I took in a deep reluctant breath still refusing to meet his eyes, which I felt watching me. Waiting for some hysterical reaction no doubt.

"There were these horrible vines that were like alive or something. They grabbed him, then wrapped around his legs, and started dragging him... In the distance there was a house burning, at first it just looked like a small camp fire. He fought so hard to get away. The more he fought, the worse the magic hurt him. They drug him into the house slowly, and then he burned. As he died, I was pulled back into the girl. She was screaming, clawing at her legs like she was trying to pull the vines which weren't there away. Burns covered her whole body." I could almost feel the heat again. Painfully, I shuddered.

"So what happens to these other people, she feels. Then through the dreams, you become her, so you feel it, too. She gets hurt in the dreams just as you do."

"Yup. We both live it. Just like the ones who are dying." With a sigh, I lay back into the couch lazily. "I've lived through her death, too. Hers is this worst one of them all."

Damien's cell phone rang just then. He sighed as he checked the caller ID. "It's my sister, Lara. I need to take this. I'll be back in a minute." A kiss brushed my lips before suddenly he was gone.

I spent the time hobbling my way to the bathroom, this time braving the light switch so I could get cleaned up. As I suspected, he didn't have much stocked in it. This was obviously just a spare bathroom. It didn't have a shower.

The view in the mirror stunned me. I knew it was bad, though I had no idea how bad. A rainbow of hideous colors surrounded both eyes, spreading down to my fractured cheekbone, across my broken nose.

My lower lip was purple, red, and black along the stitched, swollen area, doubled in size. As I suspected, the stitches were perfectly uniform. Tears immediately filled my eyes threatening to spill. Seeing the injuries made them hurt more.

"I should just put a bag over my head, jeeze." Carefully I washed my face then wet my hands to comb through my tangled hair to tame it. Finally rinsing my mouth, swishing, and gargling the best I could with water to get the taste of stale blood out.

"There's just no way to make this ugly go away," I told myself with a shaky sigh. Don't cry. Don't you dare! To try to make sense of my hair, I soaked it. Combing with my fingers, I managed to de-rat it.

Walking hurt like hell, but I had dealt with it before, and likely would again. Just as I opened the door and stepped out, I realized Damien was leaning on the wall nearest to me.

"Hell!" I nearly fell backwards, hurting my ankle in the process of him scaring the daylights out of me. "You cannot scare injured people like that! It's very mean." Callous scorning.

His face was unusually serious as he scooped me into his arms before I could say two words about it or even one word really.

"I apologize for startling you," he spoke low as he carried me back to the couch, lying me down gently. "Although I would ask you not to walk around, especially without the wrap. I don't want you hurt worse than you already are."

"That or you don't want me nosing around your house. I just needed to use the restroom. I promise I wasn't creeping." He stood next to me a moment shaking his head slightly.

"I have no more secrets to keep from you, Lianna. It's just that I have a very difficult time seeing you injured."

"What did she have to say? Please sit down, you're making me nervous." His brow arched as he slowly sat to the edge of the couch next to me, careful not to even touch me. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Sigh.

"She wants to meet you. I just don't believe it's necessary right now. I told her we would stay at least another week so we can make arrangements for you. Her only comment was she highly doubted that."

He sighed. Damien's brow furrowed as he leaned his elbows onto his knees, and locked his hands together staring at them begrudgingly. "Lara has a way of knowing things. Usually she knows a lot more about the bad things than the good."

That reminded me of Neesa, and the tarot readings. "As much as I've had to deal with the bad specifically lately, I don't think I'm quite stable enough for the details as to what you mean. So I'm going to ask later." I couldn't stand to look at him in such a brooding mood so I stared down at my black and purple ankle. Yeah, that made me feel better. Not.

"Oh, she also said I was a horrible host who has forgotten many of your more human needs." Glancing at the bathroom, he shook his head. In disagreement, I rolled my eyes as he looked back at me.

"Would it be all right with you if we left for a little while? I do not keep many human necessities on hand I am afraid. Plus, you have not eaten in nearly two days I do believe." He barely lifted his head as he looked up at me.

"Did you know you speak more formally when you're upset?" My brow perked slightly as I looked at him. All he did was stare at me. "I'm fine, Damien. I don't eat much really anyway. Besides, we're not done talking." It had been closer to three days. He didn't need to know that though.

"If you choose to say no again I will not allow you to put pants on. I will take you half-naked. Three days will not turn into four." Damn it. It was both amusing and disturbing that his face and voice was so deadly serious.

"They wouldn't let me in." I challenged after a moment's hesitation.

"Do you not remember saying with a single look I tend to get what I want? I believe they would." His brow perked in mockery of my expression. No humor. "Besides, I never said we were done talking. I haven't learned near enough about you yet either, sweetheart." A faint smile tugged at his lips as my cheeks flushed.

"Well when you put it that way I won't challenge you. Where are my pants?" His lips twisted into a slight smile. Pity it really was only a slight one. "But I'm keeping the shirt." He grinned at that one.

As we'd driven I'd explained in its entirety what had happened at the docks. He'd seemed disbelieving that I made it all the way home on my own, and more disbelieving that the man, if one could call him a man, hadn't come after me. The reasons why he wouldn't have were unpleasant to think about.

"So, maybe you can shed some light on something for me." I chewed my lip idly while looking out the window. He stayed quiet, waiting for me to continue on with my change of subject. "Some things were going on, it started not long before you first came to Riads." His brow arched as he looked over at me curiously. Taking in a deep breath, I sighed heavily. "Weird things were happening in my apartment."

"Give me an example." His brows furrowed as his eyes focused on the road. It felt as if I was just filled with weird crap. I didn't mean to burden him, but the strange unanswerable things were almost always pinging around in my head, waiting to be surfaced and dealt with. Silly or not, I wanted his opinion. "It's not silly, nor is it a burden. Tell me what happened." His lips turned up as one hand left the steering wheel to take my hand gently. Very gently, so as not to hurt my already fractured wrist.

My cheeks burned because I felt like a paranoid nutcase. "Stupid stuff. Music turning on when it shouldn't mostly. The other stuff is difficult to explain. I'll just get a weird feeling that I'm being watched or that I'm not alone. I'll see shadows move. Human looking shadows. Things won't be where I remember leaving them."

"How often?" His eyes were narrowed again as if he were thinking on something.

I shrugged dismissively. "Pretty often. More and more frequently actually." I laughed bitterly. "My God, I sound like one of those freaks who thinks their house is haunted. It hasn't always been like that."

"Hmm. Started before I got to town then. Well it certainly wasn't me. Honestly, I never followed you. I used to drive around a lot, bored out of my skull mostly, so I'd seen you walking around town. When I had told you that before, it wasn't a lie. Could have been a number of things though. Perhaps the same person who attacked you even. If it happens when I'm around will you tell me? Or if I'm not, though that's doubtful, will you call me?" I nodded absently. He programed my number into his phone, sending me a message so I would have his. I couldn't help but laugh though it hurt to do so. The message read: Vv^^^^vV His lips curled up.

We watched the sunrise as we drove. It was beautiful. Much better when shared with another. He agreed. We rolled the windows down, and tried to blow his speakers with some Fuel. His system was top of the line. We failed, but I'd enjoyed the challenge.

Damien had taken me to a small diner off the highway for breakfast. It was old. Completely restored to its hay day. Blue Formica ruled the room with white and black tile covering every inch of the floor. Picture a gleaming silver trailer with a neon sign of blue inviting the world of travelers to Sally's Place.

Questions stirred through my mind about anything I had heard or read that related to every mythological creature I have heard of.

Of course, I couldn't ask him out loud in the restaurant, so after some creative thought I began thinking of yes or no answer questions. He seemed amused enough to humor me with slight shakes of the head for no, and faint nods for yes. At least I did get to wear pants with his shirt, which I enjoyed a little too much. Pity he wore one as well. Yes, each battered break, and mangled joint was securely wrapped.

It went a little like this, I would think a question. Can you eat food? Shake of the head no. But you can drink alcohol. He shrugged. Explain it more later? Nod. Crosses? He smirked. Reaching a hand across the table, the tips of his fingers brushed the golden cross dangling from my neck. I'd forgotten I was wearing it. My cheeks warmed significantly along with other parts of my body. He winked teasingly as he let his hand fall away. All right, another myth. Churches? He smirked still, though faintly as he looked from right to left discretely. Myth. You can be hurt? He'd already admitted to that before so he didn't reply. How? He stared at me. Not now, gotcha. I sighed as the waitress came to take our order.

I knew it would hurt to eat, so keeping that in mind I ordered the oatmeal. After a word from the waitress, the cook had blatantly stuck his head out the kitchen door to openly stare at me. Awkward.

In light of this, the oatmeal wasn't too hot, and had applesauce mixed into it. That hadn't been on the menu so I knew he'd done it for my benefit to cool it down. Very thoughtful.

Speaking of painful things, every person there from employee to customer was staring at me as if I was some grotesque monster they couldn't turn away from. Some of it blended with pity. Some looked actually afraid. "Damien, they're staring at me. I don't like it," I mumbled under my breath between bites.

"They think I did this to you," he grumbled while throwing down a twenty to cover the five-dollar tab. Of course he didn't eat. He didn't even bother ordering.

Damien spoke in a light whisper across to me, "The owner just called the police. It's time to go." I started pulling myself to the edge of the booth to stand. Damien quickly jumped to my aid. Helping me to my feet, he all but carried me out.

Their gazes followed us out. No one had even spoken more than a whisper the short fifteen minutes we were there. Three guys followed us out to the Jeep. One ventured much closer than the others unashamedly writing down the plate numbers. Damien jumped into the driver seat. Without bothering with the driveway, he jumped the curb on his way out.

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have made you take me home instead." He drove through one ditch and also a yard with his short cuts. Before long, we were on back roads I hadn't ever seen.

"Don't worry about it." He pulled off the road, and was out of the car before I realized he had even come to a complete stop. In another second, he opened the back, grabbing a small tool box. Not a minute later, he threw it back in the Jeep, and we were off again.

"I keep extra plates in the back. Sort of a requirement when people can't know who you are. They may still recognize the Jeep though so we'll have to hurry. Put your seat belt on."

"Where are we going?"

"Burlington."

No cops ever found us fortunately. I didn't really want to find out what Damien resorted to in such a situation. I never asked what he did with the spare plate either. Some things are best left unquestioned. I was shocked how far away his house was from Burlington.

Stupidly, I glanced at his speedometer once. It was bouncing off the one-thirty marker. My stomach gurgled unstably.

Of course, what do you think he said to that? "Lianna, I have been driving since they invented cars. I have never once wrecked, and I don't plan on wrecking now. There's no reason to be frightened, I promise you."

"Uh huh..." Granted he did look calm, just irritated as all hell. That was the last we spoke before we got back to my apartment in all of thirty minutes when it should have taken much, much longer.

"I'm gonna take a shower. Might take me a little bit though." My foot was rewrapped obviously, but way too swollen to fit in my usual boots so I had been sort of hobble hopping my way around barefoot. Pain or no, I was going to take a shower.

"Sit. Let me unwrap it for you." I sat on the edge of the bed as he kneeled in front of me on the floor, raising my pant leg to remove the wrap carefully. His cool fingers trailed my flesh up to my thigh teasingly. A smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips though his gaze was upon the floor.

Fighting the shiver brought on by the feel of his touch, (not the temperature) my fingers clinched the comforter in my fists. "Still broken?" I asked sarcastically.

"Nope. You should go for a run, and try out the new foot." He chuckled slightly kissing my knee when he was done.

Before I stood up Damien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait. You have company." He tugged my pant leg back in place.

"Is it Nees?" It took me by surprise how hopeful I sounded when I asked. Unfortunately, Damien shook his head, moving to the window.

"It's a younger man in an older model silver Chevy car. Stout. Military haircut. Dresses like a Gap ad." His brow creased as he stared at the car as if he could make it disappear. Who knows maybe he could though.

With the basic description, I already knew who it was. "Paul."

"Ahh, the ex. That explains it. All due respect, do you mind if I disappear for his visit? I don't think we would get along very well." He turned back to me with an expression that said he already knew he didn't like Paul so I nodded.

"That may be a good idea. He can be a jerk sometimes." Without another word, Damien flew by me landing a kiss to my neck over his bite mark before disappearing out the door. I assumed to avoid Paul he would take the back stairwell away from the parking lot.

A few moments later, my door flew open, and slammed into my wall. The lock and knob had been busted by Damien before, so it didn't take much to open.

"Jeeze, Paul, I could've been naked! You can't just walk in!" I hadn't stood up yet, and didn't really want to let on my ankle was broken on top of my face being bashed up.

Paul ignored me. "Where the hell have you been?!" The door slammed loudly behind him. "You've avoided me for two weeks now, and yesterday I show up here, you're not home. You're not at work. I called everyone I could find! No one's seen you for a week. You don't answer your phone."

Had it been a week? Surely only two days. Thursday I'd gone to Wildflower. That night I was attacked. Slept through Friday. Today was Saturday. Pfft. Drama Queen. "It's been two days, Paul." Oh crap, where was my phone anyway? My entire body tensed tighter with each step that brought him closer to me. I don't like it when people yell.

He ignored me. It was as if he couldn't hear me. "So I call Richard, had him track your number, and you know where we find your phone? On the street by the docks next to a curb covered in blood!" Ah, the docks, right. Oops. He stopped his ranting right in front of me. "Holy shit, what the hell happened to you?"

"I tripped off the side walk, and fell on the curb. Can I have my phone back?" I held out my hand expectantly, but he just stood there staring at me like the people from the diner.

"Hello? Do you have my phone?" My fingers waved impatiently for him to hand it over. By this time I was ready for him to leave so Damien would come back to me.

"Uhh... yeah." He reached into his pocket, handing me the cell. Without moving, I reached over, and placed it on the charger pad. Paul stepped close enough his legs brushed mine as he dropped to the floor. His hands came up to cradle my face. He wasn't as gentle as Damien. It hurt.

The unwanted closeness repelled my memory to being back at the docks. The unknown monster so close I could feel his breath. Just like I could feel Paul's on me now. Only Paul's reeked of alcohol. Before I could protest, he went into another raging fit. His fingers clamped tight to my jaw.

"How could you let this happen? If you would just come to your damned senses, we would be together. You wouldn't be off alone getting hurt all the time! I love you, Anna. You know that I do. I have always loved you! Just once. Give me just once. I know I can show you."

His hands on my cheeks hurt enough I barely registered the words or the meaning. "Paul, please. You're hurting me!"

Immediately I tried to push his arms away from me, but it was useless. "You don't know what pain is! You don't know what it does to me to see you, and never be with you. I just want to be with you. Let me show you. Just once let me show you." He leaned into me forcing me back on the bed. His body pressed into mine firmly as his mouth smashed into mine.

It couldn't be called a kiss. It hurt so bad that it made me want to cry. His hands spread over each side of my face clutching me against him so I couldn't pull back. My hands fought to push him off me, though it only seemed to encourage him.

Paul groaned my name into the kiss though it sounded wrong, twisted somehow. He crawled forward, pushing me further up onto the bed. My fingers dug, and clawed at his arms, shoving with everything I had to get him off me.

Broken wrist be damned. The adrenalin took over.

My mind was reeling. I could see it all in my head now. Me, struggling on the side of a steep muddy hill beneath a crazed man ready to rip me apart in every horrible way there was.

Paul's breathing was so ragged it came out as more of a guttural grunting. The smell with the taste of alcohol invaded my senses.

"Paul!" I managed to scream as he pulled his mouth off mine, and sat up on top of me. To hold me still, his hand braced around my throat as his other hand reached for his belt buckle. I could still manage to breathe, however his grip was snug enough I couldn't talk any more. My blood flow suffered.

My knee and ankle meant nothing to me. I kicked with everything I had. Twisting, and jerking wildly. As he fumbled with his belt buckle, my right fist balled, slamming hard into his nose. He didn't even flinch as blood poured out of his nose, down his mouth, dripping into mine. I'm a chick not a child. I know how to hit someone.

"Little Anna, you're still not strong enough," his rough voice, and taunting words struck something in my memory. At the time I never could have placed it. With his pants undone, hanging halfway down his thighs, his legs slid between mine forcing them to part. Without pause, his hand found the hem of my jeans, jerking so forcefully the button popped off, and the zipper tore.

The veins in my head throbbed painfully as my blood flow was choked off. In moments, my eyesight began to phase through red and black tunnel vision. Futilely my fingers clawed, digging at his hand. Desperate to release his hold on my throat. My mind slowed down, honing in on the intense pain.

It felt as if my head was about to pop. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. His hand on my neck grew tighter as he adjusted his weight onto the hand on my throat so his other could pull my jeans down my hips. My body was giving up quickly. Too fatigued, and abused already to hold up the fight much longer. All I could do was stare up at the man I thought I knew as my fingers feebly clawed at his. His pitch black eyes were empty of emotion.

Seconds before I knew I was going to black out, my door exploded off the hinges, and Paul flew off me. His body flew across the room, crashing against the kitchen cabinets breaking two of them. He landed on the floor in an unmoving lump.

I gasped so hard I choked on the air. As I lay there panting, paralyzed with shock, the full realization hit me. The night of the first attack replayed in my head. Paul's eyes were coal black. His voice sounded strange.

Damien had his back to me, standing between me, and Paul waiting for him to react. "Anna, are you hurt?" Damien's question came out in a snarl.

"It's not Paul," my voice cracked as I choked it out. Damien turned to look at me. Disbelief clearly marked his features. "That thing, the thing that attacked me. The docks!" I couldn't fully put into words what I was intending, but Damien got it loud and clear. "Look at his eyes!"

A strange throttled snarl ripped out of Damien's lips as Paul stirred on the floor. "Oh man..." Paul held his nose with both hands as he lay on the ground groaning. "What the hell happened? Anna?" Paul looked around in confusion.

"Paul, you need to leave. Just go!" I lay on the bed in a heap. My body too tortured to move further.

"Anna? Did we- did I just? Oh shit. Anna, what did I do?" Paul ran his hand through his hair, wiping blood through it as he did. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, jerking his pants up with one hand. "Damn. Did you break my nose?" he grumbled as his feet stumbled drunkenly beneath him.

"Get out! Just get the hell out!" I screamed at Paul. Stupidly I chucked a pillow at him, which didn't come close as it fell to the floor without any of the desired oomph I had been aiming for.

Damien stood still as stone. His entire body was so tensed you could feel the rage radiating from him. I wasn't stupid. Just because Damien didn't want to kill me didn't mean he never killed.

Paul nodded. Drunk, and confused, however aware enough to know not only something horrible had just happened, even if he didn't know what, but something much worse was going to happen if he didn't leave very quickly. Strangely, he never seemed to notice Damien.

Paul stumbled to the door one hand holding up his pants as he turned back to look at me. His eyes were still ebony pits. "I'm sorry." With that, he left.

Before I could even collapse, Damien was scooping me up, holding me to him. We didn't talk for a little while. Nor could I bring myself to cling back to him. I did not shake, nor did I cry. Blood drizzled down my chin from a torn stitch. Damien didn't show a single sign of unease.

Once the chaos was over, my adrenaline rush crashed, and the pain was overwhelming. My breathing was heavily strained while trying to focus on anything else I could. After a while, Damien laid me down. My lip was still bleeding steadily.

Damien spent a long time playing doctor. First my lip. Gently, and tenderly as possible, he stripped my jeans off before throwing them in the trash. He made a careful process of straightening my leg. He never said a word during any of this. He wrapped my ankle stiffly. Unwrapping my wrist was a trial for us both. If it was fractured before, it was now completely broken. He handed me three Vicodin, and a Red Bull with a straw he hunted down in my bare bones kitchen.

Waiting for the Vicodin to kick in, he paced an anxious road map around the loft. Funny I never imagined Vampires paced at all.

Eventually, once the pain killers kicked in, he straightened my wrist. Splinting it with a few chopsticks from a vast take out collection, wrapping it stiff, and snug. For the next three hours I lay on my bed watching him. He'd roamed from picture to picture. Stared out the window. Sat beside me, running his hand through my hair. Pace. Roam. Examine something. Pace.

Finally, after Damien had settled into standing by the window, watching the rest of the world partake in a normal day he spoke, however it was more to himself than to me, "Maybe I should take you to the hospital. You should be safe there for a time. They can take care of you."

"I won't go," I mumbled from the mound on the bed that I had become.

"Why is that?" He turned to look at me. His face looked as pained as I felt.

"Tell me why the pacing and I will." I groaned faintly as I pushed myself up to sit with my right arm supporting me.

"I just keep wondering why I am not able to keep these things from happening to you," Damien stood with his back to me while he spoke.

"Your blood keyed me into you. Your pain was so strong it nearly laid me out. I could barely move for the first minute. I'm sorry for not getting here sooner I just wasn't prepared for the shock of feeling it. I don't remember ever feeling anything like human pain. It kept me from being able to protect you."

He shook his head looking down to the floor. "So why is it you get nervous when I mention taking you to the hospital?"

"He's not just a Doctor. My father's the chief of medicine. I don't want him to know," my voice quaked. All my demons were being laid out for him in short order. "My entire family has disowned me. Not only that, but my father has also black listed me at every doctor's office in Vermont. Trust me I've checked. He's done this so that no one other than him treats me. Black sheep or not, it's good to keep tabs I guess. We don't acknowledge one another as family, but as Doctor, and patient." I took a deep breath so I could go on.

"Every time I've had to go for stitches or a cast or something at the ER, he finds out. He thinks I do this to myself on purpose. So every time I go in, he forces the psycho drugs on me, and puts me through every nutso test there is. He kept me there for a month solid once, restricted to bed rest. Anytime they caught me out of bed, they doped me up until I couldn't stand without help. All I had done was cut myself making dinner. That's why I don't cook any more."

Laughing weakly, I turned my face away from him, quickly wiping my eyes. I couldn't approach the topic of my brother. Did Damien know I had a brother? Oh, I had mentioned it once. Sort of.

Damien looked at me expectantly. Sighed. Continued, "He's older than me." I looked now at the floor. Damien came to stand over me. I could feel him watching me as I counted scuff marks. "Marcus James Von. The divorce took place during the time they had me seeing all the doctors. My mother left one night while I was in the hospital. I haven't seen her since, though we spoke over the phone a couple of times. Maybe three times." Deep breath. Twelve scuffs so far.

"They told Marcus I had night terrors, which was true. He was over protective of me in the few years we were in school together. He came up to help me move, and set this place up. The baseball bat by the closet was his in high school. He was my best friend. My only friend when we were little." Damien didn't move or speak. I kept counting. Twenty-three.

"One night I picked up dinner for us. Had him come over. Explained things in a bit more explicit detail. I thought he had a right to know. He hadn't known I was emancipated. Didn't even know I had been living with our grandmother for the three years before. He thought our father had helped me get the place so he never questioned. He wasn't living with us. He hardly cared what our father did. When I told him though... He realized what spurred the divorce. Me. We had a fight. I haven't seen or heard from my brother, or mother since. My father I only see at the hospital. Heh, he addresses me as Miss. Von. The things my brother said to me when he left, I'll never forget them." You broke everyone. You stole my family from me. I never want to see you again. Monster. Freak. Better off never born. That hadn't been all of it, but it was all that snuck into my thoughts before I could push the memories away.

There was nothing he could say. Damien sat on the floor leaning his head back near mine. "So if you're tuned into me, can you read my mind better?"

"I can feel your emotions better, yet still only the clear, decisive thoughts same as before." He shrugged helplessly.

"So now what? I mean that wasn't Paul, but it was." Shuddering at the possibility of what that meant, I slowly lay down to the bed. My head lay near the edge next to Damien.

"And you're positive of that? I mean to say you're sure it was not him that carried through those actions?" Damien stared at my busted door. He'd busted out the jam on his way in this time. The thing was toast.

"Paul would never do that drunk or not. He grew up next door to me. We dated, and he never pushed. Not even once." Shaking my head, I swallowed down the knot in my throat. "That wasn't Paul. Besides he said things to me, the same things the guy from the docks said. He called me little Anna. Paul has never called me by any other variance than Anna banana when we were kids. He said I still wasn't strong enough. Just like at the docks. His freaking eyes were black as coal. Paul's eyes are light blue." I took a slow breath. I wasn't angry with Damien. I was just angry.

"Why are they doing this to me?" I looked up at the ceiling, too worried about the answer to look at him.

"Honestly, I just don't know. To corrupt someone and basically possess them, he has to be powerful though. Could be anything from an Immortal to a Faye."

"What exactly makes an Immortal different from a Vampire or Faye?"

"They're not born that way. Immortals become what they are usually from what we call mad-magic. Alchemy basically. Alchemy combined with otherworld magic. The combination is unstable, even dangerously powerful. If they become turned, a crossbreed basically, they... It's not something easily predicted. It's dangerous. It's not that we hate the challenge in our power, but quite literally these individuals are very unstable. At least on average. They have little control. Crossbreeds are often times underlings that were created to follow orders. They're generally turned against their wills." Damien shook his head in disgust.

"If it is the same man that attacked you, and he can control people at his will then we have a very serious problem. It means any human you come into contact with may be used against you. We need to leave, Lianna. I have to get you away from him as soon as possible."

I listened to him explain things while staring at my ceiling. The truth of what he said was very plain. We wouldn't come back unless this thing after me was dead. If it was as dangerous as Damien warned, it may be able to hurt him as well. I couldn't risk that, but I just couldn't understand why this was happening. "But why me? He's treating this like a game." Otherwise I'd be dead already, and we both knew it.

Damien remained quiet a while, pondering my question. "I honestly don't know. There's a chance someone's using him to get to you. He may be using you to get to me. There are a lot of possibilities."

My spine tightened with a cold chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. "What about work? What about Neesa?" I didn't want to leave Neesa, and I couldn't justify totally abandoning Mike without warning. I'd already missed two days of work without notice.

"You can't be anywhere near a human who knows you, Anna. You've survived two attacks in under a week. I won't risk you a third time." He shook his head no in thought. "I can't," he mumbled more to himself than me.

"Neesa's not entirely human though... So doesn't that mean she's safe?" The idea came to me after thinking about the tarot reading she gave me.

"What? How do you mean?" His brow rose as he turned to look at me.

"Come on mind reader, you don't know? She has magic, like she's psychic or something. Neesa and her mother practice all sorts of crafts." Obviously, I didn't mean hobbies, and decorations.

"I just want someone to know I'm taking off, you know? If people think I just vanished then the cops will start looking into things. Paul's brother is a cop so they wouldn't just let it go. What if they link it to what happened at the diner? They will know you were involved."

"So she's a Descendant. Huh, explains a lot," he mumbled again, which meant he wasn't really talking to me. He seemed irritated. With me? Himself? Neesa?

"A Descendant? What's that mean?" I was starting to feel stupid with all this stuff I didn't understand.

"Humans call them witches mostly. You're right though. It is a good idea. Can you call her now?"

"Yeah. If she's not at work she'll answer."

"Great. Keep it on speakerphone. Please don't mention me." He kissed my temple before standing. A moment later, he slid my cell phone into my hand.

When she answered the phone, she was balling her eyes out. "Anna?" She sobbed into the phone.

"Neesa, what's wrong?" Panic started to bubble up inside me. If something happened to her I wouldn't have been able to handle it.

"Anna, are you okay?" Oh shit. How much did she already know? Damien stared at me from across the room. Both worried for the same thing.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to work. I just keep having these horrible visions of you, and I just couldn't face you. Not after the tarot readings." She sniffled every few seconds. Damien ran over to my desk, writing on a small note pad 'ask her about them'.

"It's okay, Nees. Just tell me what you saw."

"I saw demons everywhere around you. Even people you already knew. They all had black eyes. And... I can't say it. It was so horrible the things they did." She was crying harder now.

"It's okay, Neesa. It's gonna be okay." Ah shit... I looked to Damien helplessly.

"Anna... Damien was there also." A long pause came while she controlled her half sobs. "They tried to kill him, but he wouldn't die. His eyes seeped blood." She was sobbing again. "He was screaming for you. They had this circle cast, and it kept him from you. He watched you die."

"Neesa. This is Damien. I need you to come over to Anna's apartment now. Tell no one. Make sure you come alone."

"Damien?" shock filtered through her voice. The silence was more than portentous. "I'm on my way." Bitter resolve. The line went dead.

After a while of silence, I looked over to him. "What did you mean that her being a Descendant explained a lot?" I couldn't look at him. I just lay there staring at my phone.

"I couldn't read her clearly at all. She can shield herself. Descendants are often very paranoid about hiding themselves from not just humans, but us as well. They take extreme measures in protecting themselves. I can tell you she's been taught very well to shield me as well as she has."

With Damien standing by the window, I lay just where I was, waiting for Neesa. We didn't speak again.

She didn't knock seeing as the door was busted in. Her hand that covered her mouth was trembling. Her voice quaked, "Oh my God, it's already begun." Ominous much?

Damien stepped in front of her before she could see me. "She's been through enough. Understand?" Neesa nodded to his warning.

Neesa came over, and sat on the bed next to me. All I could manage was a tired half smile accompanied by a wiggly fingered wave. "Hey, Nees." I was beginning to really love those little pills.

"Damn, girl... I'm gonna have to put you in a bubble, aren't I?" I shrugged. Her hand slid into my right, squeezing.

"Maybe. If Damien doesn't beat you to it." Neesa looked up to Damien nervously. "He had nothing to do with it, Nees."

She nodded slightly. "I know, but he needs to trust me if he wants my help. Right now he doesn't."

I twisted my head to look at Damien shrugging. "Told you she was psychic."

Damien never gave up a word about what he was or what was going on. Neesa finally admitted it was for the best. However worried she was, she didn't want pulled in.

Neesa explained every one of her recent visions including the tarot readings in even more graphic detail than she had originally given me, but she wasn't talking to a friend. Now she was talking shop with Damien. She could distance herself from the emotion that way.

Neesa had seen my death in a way that would cause Stephen King to tremble. Well, that or really inspire him.

Damien explained he was going to get me out of town for a few days. We all knew I wasn't coming back. Neesa helped me pack while Damien stood by the window watching the streets below. The sun was still bright in the sky. It was an absolutely beautiful day.

Neesa was incredibly particular on what clothes she packed. I had a closet full though I don't think I'd thrown any clothes away since I was fourteen. Of this, she lectured me on vehemently. She only packed what she deemed my finest attire. Favorite tank tops. Designer print tees. The stuff that was in fashion according to her basically. However, her true focus wandered between Damien, and me. I pretended not to notice.

"You know, momma could make a protection charm for you. Even bless the apartment if you like. It may help enough you wouldn't have to leave. There's even this woman who's been coming around the store who may be able to help. She's totally powerful. Her name's Kayla. We could even do it at Riads when no-"

Damien turned, looking at Neesa intently. She stuttered when their eyes locked. "O-okay or not I guess."

"Neesa, as far as you know, you came over tonight to help her pack for a trip to Europe. The how and why are up to you. All that matters is that this was her decision. When you left she was happy, and healthy. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Damien held her gaze steadily.

Neesa shook her head slightly. "Don't be so insulting. You can't compel me, Damien. But I will stick to your story, for Anna's sake."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "I am not trying to compel you. Descendants are so frustrating." He grumbled under his breath.

"Yeah? Well so are supes. You think you're all so high and mighty." Neesa's eyes rolled as she finished folding my clothes to go in my bag. My eyes bugged out as my jaw dropped. I stared at Neesa dumb founded.

"Oh come on, Anna. He called me a Descendant not a witch. Only supes call us that. You know supe, like superman or supernatural." She stuck her tongue out at Damien as his back turned. My half hah got her busted though. He turned his back to her, partially facing me to hide his smirk.

"Okay, sweetie, let's get you in a bath. All your good clothes are packed except your favorite jeans, and your favorite lacey black tank top." She winked at me with a smaller sad version of her beautiful smile. "I'll go get the water running."

Once she was gone, Damien came to sit beside me on the bed where I was still laying. His hand lay against my battered cheek gently as possible. His cool skin felt wonderful. "Don't worry. I've been focusing on her. Though she suspects I'm an Immortal, she doesn't know anything more. She doesn't want to know more. How do you feel?"

"Like hell, but I'll live." Mentally, physically, and now emotionally.

"We'll leave soon." He leaned down to kiss me tenderly just as Neesa cleared her throat from the door.

"Water's ready, Anna." Damien slid his arms around me to help me stand up, walking me to where Neesa stood. "You can wait out here, Damien. We need girl time."

Simply nodding, he returned back to the window. "I'll be waiting," he reminded us as Neesa shut the door. What he meant was that he would be listening. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know that.

"So all this time pushing against my beliefs, and then you fall for a supe huh? Don't worry I don't want to know what. Just surprising is all." She sat on the counter while I soaked in the tub. My bandaged left arm hung out of the tub. He wouldn't unwrap that one.

"We fit together." I shrugged while carefully shaving my bad ankle. "Did you get my bathroom stuff? He doesn't have any. Oh, please don't forget my jewelry." I didn't have tons. None was intrinsically valuable outside of my grandmother's necklace, which I had taken off for the bath, and given to her for safekeeping. Even that wasn't very expensive, but it was of great value to me.

"It's out on the counter. I'll pack it when you're done. Jewelry's in the bag. I left some of your earrings with your hair stuff. And, honey, really, when it comes to Damien the less I know the better. Supe's and Descendants don't "fit" as you put it. Think of it as the rich vs. low class, while most humans are just considered garbage. Which is why it's so surprising."

"Gee thanks," I grumbled while meticulously shaving.

"Oh come on, Descendants don't think of humans that way. Give me your loofa. I'll wash your back." Sliding off the counter she kneeled on the floor next to me taking the mushy sponge out of my bad hand. I kept shaving.

"I know about what momma said you know. A few days ago? You have to understand, you're human, Lianna... Humans should never know about us. She thought she was doing the right thing by protecting us. She told me about the dream. If you would give me one more chance maybe I can help." Pleading without saying the words, 'don't leave'.

"He's just gonna say no, Nees. I'm lucky I got to see you before we took off as far as I see it." Before that moment, I don't think I realized how much I loved Neesa. She was the sister I'd never had.

"It's not goodbye forever, Anna. Besides, he knows I'm the only one who can help you with your broken bits. He's bound to let me help with your injuries before you go." Suddenly a cup of water dumped on my head making me sputter as she laughed.

"Warning!" I laughed as I wiped the water from my eyes. "But what do you mean you can help with my injuries?"

"It's not like I could tell you before, but I got skills." We both laughed. It was weak.

"Momma specializes in readings, and the astral stuff. My specialty is physical... I'm sure I can at least get you walking even if I can't heal the bones all the way. And I'm sure you're tired of looking like a raccoon already, right? I can't heal everything, but I can get rid of the bruising, and swelling I bet which will feel much better."

She washed my hair as she spoke, which was odd, yet still nice since I was an invalid for the time.

"You get rid of the bruises then you can totally leave the bones. When Damien looks at me he cringes. Kind of a mood-ruiner you know?" I sighed as she laughed. So not funny.

"Honey, he's a supe. Damien is so far into you it makes Romeo and Juliet look like a one-night stand. If he felt any different, he wouldn't be here. Let me help you understand something. How do I explain this? Hmm..."

Her hands kept massaging shampoo through my tangles as she pondered. Rinsed. "Okay, when you live a really long time life gets sort of boring. So for them it's like, half the time they have no emotion. Only when they do it's magnified by a million compared to normal human emotions. Make sense?" Condition.

"Um, sort of maybe." It wasn't that I didn't get it. I just sort of found it hard to believe in the magnitude in which she meant me to.

"Okay let's put it this way. Someone hits you? You get mad, maybe want to hit them back if you're that type? Someone hits a supe? The other guy usually dies," she sounded more annoyed than ominous. "When humans fall in love they question it. Every one of them does, you know that's the truth." I nodded understandingly.

"When a supe falls in love, there are no questions. It's a love so intense it swells throughout the whole universe. For them anyway. They'll do anything to protect it. You get me now?" She dumped more water on my head, though this time carefully so it didn't pour soap into my eyes.

"Yeah I think I get it now. Where do you fall in the middle of all this?"

"Exactly there. In the middle of everything. People like me hardly belong anywhere, but still sort of belong everywhere. We're the grey that holds the black and white together is how I like to see it."

"Does Ryce know?" She stayed quiet. I could feel her hesitation as if it were a physical object. To me her hesitation only meant one thing. She was hiding something.

What would she hide about Ryce that she didn't feel comfortable saying? Of course. He wasn't human either. Figures. "Your silence says it all, Nees."

"Good. Then we'll keep it at that." Standing up, she grabbed a towel. I drained the tub as she held the towel out, steadying me as I stood up, and instantly wrapping it around me.

Neesa went to grab some clothes as I dried my hair with another towel, leaning into the counter to keep the weight off my ankle. Since my hair was wet, she directed me to sit on the toilet as she armed herself with a comb, leave in conditioner, and a hair band.

She stopped while brushing my hair away from my neck. She didn't move for a long moment as if she were frozen.

"Nees?" God, tell me she isn't having another vision of my ever so impending doom. I caught her face in the mirror. Her eyes narrowed angrily as she stared down at me.

However, she wasn't staring at me. She stared down at the four tiny puncture marks on my neck. The only wound on me not bruised. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror. Without a word, she continued combing through my hair, twisting each lock into a tight French braid.

Once she was done, she left me so I could dress. She'd opted out of jeans to bring me a black and purple sports bra with a pair of my black and purple night shorts that tied. No point in arguing. It probably had something to do with her fixing the broken bits as she said. At least I looked good in them. Aside from the bruises of course.

As I stepped out, Neesa was pleading her case to Damien, who stood glaring out the window. Just as he had been most of the day now.

"The shop closes at eight. I have a key. No one will be there I swear. She needs help, Damien. For God's sake look at her! No matter where you go, people will notice. They will remember her. They'll remember you being with her."

He looked up at me as I held onto the doorframe. Not an ounce of emotion showed on his face as he turned back to Neesa. "I don't want her to leave the apartment, and I will not leave her alone again." It wasn't a no.

"You don't have to come with me. I swear I won't tell anyone what I'm doing. Not just because I can keep my mouth shut, but because no one will be there. I swear. Momma has date night with Pai. She's probably already left for the day." Pai was her father.

Neesa stood in front of Damien looking back and forth from him to me. "How far will you get before something else happens? She can't even run."

I said nothing as I hobbled over to the bed to sit down. Taking one last look around my apartment, contemplating what else I absolutely had to take. Bathroom stuff. Ready. Jewelry. Check. Even my ears were full of a mox-mix stud collection I'd compiled. As I suspected, there was a change of clothes laying on top my bag. So what else? Ahh, need my Red Bull.

Nothing was irreplaceable to me here. I had a lot of artwork I had done on the walls, but I would be giving it all to Neesa. She said she loved them all anyway. And she could finally sell them at the Wild Flower.

I didn't have pictures. Not even a family album. Oh! Phone charger! I slid down to the floor like an oil spill, puddling onto the hardwood. Remember that Vicodin I mentioned before? Crawling on knees and right hand to the bedside table, I grabbed the charger. Wadding the cord up around the charging pad, I tossed it into my bag. Art stuff? Hmmm. I sat there for a moment completely lost in lala land. Before long, I realized I wouldn't be able to get up if I tried.

"Sweetheart?" Damien sounded amused, and perplexed.

My head popped up from the other side of the bed. "Wha?"

"You okay?" His brow twitched while he was suppressing a smile.

"Uh. I um." I was having trouble standing up because my knee was killing me. This hadn't been my best idea. Damien was by my side in a matter of seconds.

With his arms around me, he scooped me up, laying me gently to the bed. "If you need something just ask next time." His cool lips brushed my good cheek.

Once standing back with Neesa by the window, Damien watched me closely. Almost as if he were oblivious to Neesa.

At long last, he gave a sigh with a single nod. "Fine. You can go, just come straight back here with no other stops. If you do see someone, you had better come up with a lie on the way there. However first, will you get her something to eat? She has less food in this place than my house has."

My arm shot up pointing at the ceiling. "That's not true! There is chocolate in my freezer!" We all laughed, though even as a collective it was feeble.

"Yeah, sure thing. I can go get that now while we wait for the store to close. I'm pretty hungry, too." Neesa turned to look at me with a slight smile. Obviously, she was trying to contain a victorious grin.

"What will it be? And don't bother saying you're not hungry."

Shrugging, not really hungry, but knowing I was going to be forced one way or another. I hurt too much to be hungry. "Surprise me then. Make it soft." With a slight nod of her head, she picked up her purse on the floor next to the bed, kissed the top of my head, and left.

Damien came over to the bed once she'd pulled out of the drive way. "You know I must say I don't know which is more appealing. You in my shirt, or this. Mmm." He enjoyed making my cheeks burn. Kissing my temple as he pulled me into him, Damien reached into his pocket pulling out the pill bottle. "Here, take one more of these. It will help for now." Reaching to my nightstand, he handed me the Red Bull.

Doooown the hatch. "You like me dopey don't you? Where did you really get these anyway? And what's up with the first aid kit?"

He snickered. "It's not that. I hate seeing you in pain. Your main line of thought is, owe owe owe. And I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you the whole story. An acquaintance broke his leg snowboarding last year. I gave him a ride one day because he couldn't drive due to his leg. He left them in the Jeep."

His arms slid around me, urging me to lie back against him. "And the first aid kit? Well my sister said I would need it when I left to go to California. She just hadn't known why. I have to say it has been handy." Bitter amusement.

It was easy to be comfortable when so secure in his arms. "California?" His body was firmer than any one's I had ever known and cooler as well, but it didn't matter. As I had told Neesa, we fit.

"The snowboarding acquaintance. I'd gone up to Northern California to help him with something." No details. Figures.

I sighed over his answer. "Your sister. She's psychic also, like Neesa?"

"Sort of. Clair cognizance is the better term, I believe. Neesa is Clairvoyant. She touches things, and gets images. The cards for example she saw more than a normal person would no matter how well they knew the tarot. She could touch something you've had, or be some place you often go and get the visions. In the field of parapsychology, Clair cognizance is a form of extra-sensory perception wherein a person acquires psychic knowledge primarily by means of intrinsic information. It is the ability to know something without a physical explanation as to why you know it. She doesn't have to touch anything to get the read."

"Wow. Do you read the dictionary in your spare time or what?" I couldn't help but laugh. Fortunately so did he. Even if just a little.

"Actually I have, thank you very much. Every edition in fact. I've always greatly enjoyed reading."

"I love reading. What do you like to read?"

"Mmm. Modern books usually, to keep me up to date on this ever progressing planet. I mostly read newspapers. The Times. National Geographic, etcetera. Book wise anything intelligent. Genre doesn't matter. Fiction, non. If the writing is sound, and the author can intrigue me, I usually find enjoyment in it. Dan Brown's a current favorite. What about you?" Damien's fingers ran up and down my right arm lightly.

I giggled. I couldn't help it. "That's me. Well, I don't care for nonfiction unless it's really spectacular. And Dan Brown-" I lay over Damien with his support, reaching for the drawer of my nightstand. His most recent book lay on top of four others. All Brown's. I don't have shelves.

"These are the only books I own. I have a library card for everything else I wanna read. Heh, usually I spend a lot of my time there. Either studying or browsing or even just reading. All the librarians even know me by name. Yeah, I'm a nerd." He smiled at that.

"May I?" I shrugged. Leaving the drawer open assuming he wanted to look. Instead, he shut the drawer before picking up the worn black leather book without title, which lay beside a short, sharpened pencil on the tabletop, and a small can of hair spray.

Gently, he moved me to lie between his legs, letting me curl up against his chest. "That's nothing. Just my sketch book."

"I wouldn't call it nothing. Sure you don't mind?" I shrugged. My left hand lay on his chest by my head as my right maneuvered behind the small of his back.

He opened the book to page one. A thorn stem rose. A park with an old man accompanied by a small child. Together they sat on a bench feeding the gulls. He studied every page at length. Dragons. Demons. Fairies. An ancient old woman, face riddled with deep wrinkles. Butterflies and dragonflies. Wolves. An owl. A cherry blossom tree.

A woman clothed in sheer torn rags, covered in exotic tattoos. Her body was covered in piercings. She lay on a stone floor, wrapped in chains in a way that seemed far from one of a prisoner. Her eyes were filled with lust. The pose was one of a seductress. Erotic. The title was "Dark Desire"

The last was a woman covered in elegant brick red tattoos of ivy, and roses. She hung by chains from a bare white tree by her wrists, as well her feet were bound in chains that hung to the ground. Her throat had been torn into viciously. Her chest had a gruesome gaping hole though the fabric where her heart had been ripped out. Whip marks slashed her bare body. "Who is she?" his voice was ice.

"That's how she died. The girl in my dreams. The girl who I become each night. I've relived her death more than any of the others."

"You lived through her death," his words were as cold as they were dark.

"I had the dream about two weeks ago. I lived through her life. Understand that it wasn't all bad. As a young girl, her life was utter bliss. Until the demons came. Then we became cursed to live through their deaths, no matter what she did to protect them. I felt their physical pain as they were tortured. Felt their fear. Carried their grief, and hers. The dreams when she dies are very painful. They prolonged her torture. She weeps with anger as she does with relief. She knows the suffering will soon end. The end it's-"

What my spoken words missed my thoughts filled in the rest. It hadn't been my intention. The Vicodin had brought down my defenses, and weakened my mind. Just thinking about her and that dream lead to explicit detailed thoughts of her life. Though we lay in silence, my memories played out the girl's death in my own mental narrative. I knew Damien could hear it clearly for how tense he was.

He'd laid the book on the table just so he could hold me. His hand pressed gently to my cheek holding me against his chest. His lips held against the top of my head. During the truly horrific parts when my body trembled, he would hold me tighter. The memories played rapidly, telling story after story.

The dreams took me over so completely that I relived them as if I were dreaming. As her torture was ending, and her death was imminent I buckled. Tears flowed freely with hers. I flinched for every lash of the whip, and every brutal savage beating.

Demons had raped her. A nameless lover chained to a wall sat forced to watch. They tortured her. Then finally her death after she watched them kill her lover brutally, ripping out his throat.

The dream of Damien I wouldn't let be real. I'd buried it as if it hadn't happened. It wasn't real. I wouldn't let it be real.

"Anna. It's okay. I'm right here, sweetheart. Let them go. It's all right. I understand now. Just let it go." He pulled me up to sit in his lap. Soft kisses caught every tear gently.

"Look at me, Anna." Careful of my cheek, his hands cupped my face. "I will not rest until I find a way to make them stop. We will find a way. I won't let them haunt you forever. I swear."

His lips brushed mine softly. "Wherever these dreams come from, we will find out. If they're a message, or whatever they are- we will find out. I will make them stop."

I nodded, unable to speak. Afraid the knot in my throat would send me into hysterical sobs. He held me until I calmed. His hand stroking my back turned into a soft kneading massage.

I couldn't help the low moan that escaped my parted lips. It felt so incredibly good. I couldn't recall anyone ever actually giving me a massage before. Not that this really counted, it still felt great to my battered body.

He picked up on the thought since my mind was so focused on his wonderful touch. "Really? Never?" He chuckled lowly in a conspiratorial fashion. "Ohhh, when we leave here I have something in store for you."

"Heh. No you don't." I shook my head, repositioning slightly to straighten my sore knee. "You've already done way too much."

Unfathomable when I really thought about it. He'd put a hold on his entire life for months now. According to him, every bit of that was for me. My cheeks burned.

"Lianna." He sighed. "You don't get it yet, do you?"

"Get what?" I looked down at my hand, picking at the wrap on my wrist.

His hands cupped my neck gently, lifting my chin so that his eyes could meet mine. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that his voice wasn't soft but very serious.

"I am in love with you, Lianna." No further exaggerative proclamations on what he would do for me. No unrealistic vows to swoon me. He didn't need to do any of that.

"You are." I smiled slowly, shyly almost. It wasn't a question. Of all the times he'd implied it. All the things he'd done to show it. He was right, I hadn't gotten it. Love can be a very difficult thing to trust in or to believe in if it is something that has not been freely given much before.

Damien's smile was light as his forehead pressed to mine. "Yes. I am." My head lay down onto his shoulder. His hand returned to gently kneading my back.

His other hand ran the pattern of my rose, as he so liked to do. "What's with the tattoo anyway? You don't seem the type."

"Oh but I am. I wanted a lot more actually. Always thought they were really beautiful. When done right of course. I guess it's from the dreams. The girl in the dreams has these dark red tattoos all over her. They're really pretty. She has ivy covering her just perfectly from the corner of one eye, winding to her toes with all sizes of roses budding throughout the vines. She'd had them since she was a child. It grew with her as she grew. It was magic."

"Is that why the rose and the dragonfly then?"

"Sort of. It's strange really. Like everything else I guess, when it comes to me. Heh. The girl in the dreams, she can grow flowers. Just by touching the sand, she would say something, and this amazing red rose would grow. It was her mark. I always felt like she had marked me, too. It seemed fitting."

Damien turned me so that I would be more comfortable on the bed rather than his hard body, though that didn't change our closeness in the slightest. His lips pressed over the small mark he had left from the bite.

I wonder if he realized Neesa knew. He gave that little Mhmm sound. He knew. Didn't care. "I see. That's not really strange though. At least your reasoning is not."

"Well there's just a little more to it than that actually. When I was younger, I would try to copy the things she did in the dreams. Because they were just really cool. I thought maybe it would help me understand her. Well there was one time it sort of worked. Just once though," my voice was barely a whisper as I thought on the memory.

"Tell me about it," he mumbled into my neck, just under my ear.

"I was sitting in my backyard, behind this big tree. All I remember is thinking about the dreams while playing in the dirt. I was really little. Around seven I think. I don't remember what I was doing exactly, but before long I was surrounded by dragonflies. Hundreds of them. Since then, dark roses grew there all over that tree. They still do to this day... Even in winter. The yards been filled with dragonflies by the hundreds every spring since."

"Hm." Damien's only comment to the story. "Neesa's back..." he sounded so excited. That's a touch of an exaggeration perhaps.

It was just a few moments later that she knocked on the wall outside the door quietly before stepping inside with a brown sack stuffed to the brim. "I got Chinese." Neesa walked to my open kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter.

Damien pulled me up with him to stand, sweeping my feet out from under me completely. He carried me over to the small island, setting me on the counter top.

I couldn't help but smile. He winked playfully, lips turned up into a small smirk.

Neesa ordered everything on the menu. Well, almost. It could have fed an army. Of course it was only her and I who ate anything. I went with noodles. They both threatened until I finished one whole box.

The next few hours were awkward with the two of them. Mostly Damien stood starring out the window while I got things ready for me to go with Neesa. She packed the rest of the things I needed, and some of my art stuff as well. The kit she'd bought for my birthday, the sketch book Damien had looked through. By then the huge duffle bag was busting at the seams.

"Okay here's the key. The rest is yours." She was more emotional than I was at this point.

I'd miss her. I regretted the strain this would put on Mike, but I was ready to move on in my life. Whatever that meant. I was ready for a new life.

"For now. It's your stuff, Anna. When you do come back-" She stopped to glare at Damien as if this was his fault. "When you do come back, it's all yours. I'll hold onto it, but it's yours."

"Well in the meantime it's yours. Use what you will, do with it what you will. If you don't want the furniture or anything just sell it. Art, too. If I come back, you can pay me for it later. At least then you don't have to deal with it."

"I could use a new bed. Ryce and I are still in the full I had as a kid. Yours is a king, he'll be thrilled." Her cheeks went pink as she spoke, nervously glancing at Damien.

She mouthed 'Did you tell him?' I shook my head. There wouldn't have been much point in telling him. I was certain that he already knew anyway. She nodded thankfully, looking around. "He'll know if I lie to him. He always does, but he usually doesn't question me. Don't worry. I promise to leave him out of this."

Damien turned to glance at Neesa as she spoke of Ryce. One brow rose as if he questioned the truth in her words.

My hand took hers, pulling her to sit on the bed beside me. Turning to face her, I held her hand tight. "I'm gonna miss you, Neesa. I know everything lately has been really hard on you, too, and I'm so sorry for that. But please don't blame Damien. He's done nothing but take care of me. He's been there for me. Taken care of me. Protected me. Never once has he been the one that put me in harm's way. You need to believe that. I'm happy with him. I'll be safe with him. You talked about trust, but you forgot that it goes both ways."

Neesa choked up so much so that she could only nod. Tears seeped from her eyes as she brushed them away quickly with the back of her other hand. "I know." She took a deep breath. We talked like that for a while, mostly reminiscing.

"Okay, store's closing now. I should get going I guess." Neesa looked down at the key in her hand, sniffling a bit before looking back up to me.

"I'll be back soon. You better not take off on me!" With one last look at Damien, Neesa's eyes narrowed suspiciously as if he very well might.

"I promise, we'll be here." Damien had been giving us some space. Knowing how upset she was, he kept his back to her.

There are very few people in the world who don't mind being seen crying. Neesa was one of them. I on the other hand despised it. It made me feel weak. Pathetic. I really hated how much I'd cried around Damien. However, in my defense before that it had been quite a few years.

Once she left, Damien made his way back to the bed to sit with me again. "Do you two hate each other?" There was so much tension between them that it was the only conclusion I could come to.

"No, not at all. Just neither of us trusts the other when it comes to you. Oh, and if you were wondering, Ryce is a shifter. I have known about him since the first night I stopped in at Riads. The smell's hard to miss." His lips curled into a smirk as my eyes widened.

"I thought you said they were loners. That's really weird because Neesa said supernaturals and Descendants hardly ever got along."

Damien just shrugged. "There is an exception for everybody."

"Uh huh. So what about what she said earlier, how most supes hate humans, and think we're garbage?" My brow rose as I turned to look at him accusingly.

"Yes, much like that. However, I don't really consider you entirely human. You're just in a league of your own." He seemed to like the sound of it. I was unsure what to think of the remark.

"So you do hate humans then?" My shoulders slumped as I thought about it. Being called inhuman annoyed me, I was coming to learn.

"I think more or less, humans tend to hate anything abnormal." Well that's true. "And we're usually quick to dislike things that would prefer we didn't exist. Hundreds of years ago, we were not myths, Anna. Humans hated us as well as feared us because in every way we were more powerful. Eventually we turned truth into legend, and here we are today- Hiding in the shadows behind fairy tales, and scary stories because for everyone involved it's safer this way."

"Safer?" I moved closer to him. Instantly he responded by pulling me into the same position we'd been in before Neesa had shown up with the food. The remains of which were now stashed in the fridge.

"You injured the man at the docks with the rocks if you remember?" I nodded. "We can be hurt, just as we can be killed. It's just more difficult. We heal at a very rapid rate compared to humans. Still, they tried too much for our own good or theirs to be rid of us. More humans died than supernaturals of course. So eventually, we decided to disappear. It was safer for everyone in the end."

"That's sad, but I can see the truth in it. There is a saying my history teacher used frequently, 'A person has the potential to be understanding, and intelligent. People as a mass are deaf, dumb, and blind.' I always knew he was right."

Damien's shoulders shook slightly with bitter laughter. "That's a good way to put it."

It wasn't long before Neesa came back. Damien went to the window when he heard her car in order to make sure she was alone. He disappeared out the door just as I heard her car door slam shut.

It wasn't long before I could hear them in the hall, Neesa obviously louder than Damien. When they came through the door, Damien was carrying a huge box in his arms. She really did think worse of him than he deserved...

"Where do you want it?" his voice was back to its grumbly norm that he used while Neesa was around.

"By the bed is fine." Neesa flipped the lights on at last. All the light of the day had faded. The room was too dark for her eyes. Mine were already adjusted only because I was used to it.

Neesa followed Damien to the bed where he put the box down on the floor. The first thing she pulled out of the box was a teapot, and a small black wooden box. Reaching up, she handed them to Damien. He said nothing as he stood there patiently, until she tried to pick up a gallon glass jug, which seemed to be filled with water and rocks. Damien took it from her before following her to the kitchen.

"So will this really work?" I had to ask. How could herbs and candles cure injuries like this?

"Well usually a single break or something I could heal almost completely. I'm afraid as badly as you're hurt, you'll be far from perfect, but as I said before, way better off than you are now. I promise to put some hella focus on the facial bruising for you, chica." Neesa never did mind my skepticism. Mostly I think because she always knew she could prove me wrong.

Neesa's magic was nothing like that light as a feather stiff as a board trick kids did in grade school. She always said her magic was as real as Mother Nature herself. Honestly I did believe her, but I still questioned everything nonetheless. It's just who I was.

"So just that I'm clear. Badly sprained ankle, maybe a break there, dislocated knee, something torn possibly there, broken wrist, dinted cheekbone," she shuddered. "busted lip, broken nose, and black eyes. My God, Anna." She shook her head in bewilderment. "That it?"

There were some bruises elsewhere, however they were minimal, and not even on the radar as far as I was concerned. Some scrapes, and cuts. Nothing big. "Yes, boss. So, is any of this going to hurt?"

"You'll only feel pressure. This is perfectly safe, I promise." She filled the teapot from the jug before she set the kettle to do its thing. Once she was done, Neesa came back over to the bed, digging through her box again with Damien right behind her as a silent helper.

It was a strange sight to see. I'm sure he wouldn't go bragging about it to anyone in the future.

As she knelt by the box, beginning shuffling through things, she lifted one large box out from the bottom with an overflowing bowl of rocks on top. A stone fell from the bowl as she bumped her elbow on my bed. Damien being closest reached down to pick it up.

"Don't touch it!" Neesa screamed just as his fingers touched the stone. It was too late. He was inhumanly fast, and she was humanly slow. The second his skin had touched the stone, smoke rose from his flesh forcing him to drop it instantly.

Gritting his teeth, Damien turned away from Neesa and I to collect himself. I starred at Neesa in shock. "What the hell was that?"

"It's blood stone. Pure blood stone." She reached over to pick it up, quickly dropped it into a small black bag for safekeeping.

"It's used to clear infections, and illness in the blood. Your lip is blood red, which means it's infected. The bad side is most supernaturals can't touch it. Damien, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," his chest rumbled slightly as he spoke. His hand flexed down at his side. The flesh of his fingers was black where the stone had touched him.

"I'm so, so sorry. I promise to be more careful. I've just never been so flustered... It's never been so personal to me before. I'm really sorry." Neesa looked so nervous I thought she might cry any moment.

"Neesa, I am fine. Take care of Anna." I starred at his hand, watching the black slowly fade away to red.

Finally, he turned back to her, kneeling down beside her. "Is there anything else that will incinerate me in here that I need to know about?"

Neesa shook her head, wide eyed with anxiety. "No. Well... not that I know of."

"Well then, we'll just have to hope for the best." His smile was slight, and forced, though it was the best he seemed able to manage for her.

Neesa's smile was timid, and nervous. She wasn't a fool when it came to dealing with supernatural beings. They were stronger, and could be dangerous, though I didn't think it warranted being afraid of Damien. Then again, I was the one in love with him, not her.

"Raw Blood stone, to cleanse infection and toxins in her blood. I'll put the stone in with her tea. The water was filtered with purified quartz crystal. The tea will be made from Angelica leaves for healing, and protection," she was reciting as if recalling a written lesson.

It was strange to be sitting there, seeing the two conversing as if I wasn't in the room. "I have a titanium mortar and pestle. If you will grind some Brazilian Agate, the dust accompanied by some magic will act like a pain killer."

Damien nodded, but when Neesa handed him the metal bowl and grinder he just raised his brow. Taking the bowl, he put the grinder back in the box. I couldn't make out the words, but Neesa mumbled under her breath causing Damien to chuckle.

Setting the small bowl of pebbles aside, Neesa fished through the metal box she had pulled out, handing him a big round rock the size of an apple. Damien held the stone in his fist, squeezing, splitting it into smaller pieces. He made it look as if it was nothing more than loosely packed dirt.

Neesa shuddered at the show of his strength even though she knew he was capable of more. My jaw dropped for it was the first time he'd given me an example of how strong he actually was.

Once the stone was split, it was really quite beautiful with swirled layers of different colors like the embodiment of a rainbow. Damien glanced up at me for a split second as he proceeded to powder the geode into dust with his bare fingers. He was analyzing my reaction to his strength. I was fascinated.

"Okay, we also have Onyx to strengthen bones. Peridot, to help her body regenerate. Axinite, to aid in mending fractures. Blue Lace Agate to heal injuries, like her lip, her eyes, and such. Azurite to strengthen her knee, combined with Malachite to help mend the muscle, and tendons."

Each stone was uniquely beautiful. I had no idea how it was supposed to heal a broken bone let alone make a bruise vanish. It was this or nothing in the end.

"So I have to ask, as much as I get hurt why didn't you ever mention this stuff before?" I was now laid on my stomach close to the edge of the bed, watching them both closely.

"I tried. I even made you a necklace I had charmed, but my mother wouldn't let me give it to you. She said you're too observant. You wouldn't simply trust in the spirituality of it. She believed you would see the raw magic. Mother said you weren't ready to understand and acknowledge our world." Neesa looked sad as she answered me.

Damien looked up from the rock, which was mostly glittery sand by now, with a slight smirk. He shook his head, amused. "She doesn't miss a thing, does she?" He, too, was doomed from my observant qualities it seemed.

"Okay, so now what?" I ignored his teasing.

"Now you roll onto your back, and get comfortable. Damien, can you go ahead and remove the splint on her arm? Lianna, you're going to lie on your back. Place your arms out to either side palm up. Don't speak. Try not to be scared."

"Gee, Nees, you really know how to make someone feel relaxed." Sarcasm. Heavy sarcasm.

Neesa took a hand full of dust, rubbing it over her palms until they were chalky, and sparkling. As gently as possible, she rubbed her hands along every bit of my exposed flesh. Even lightly sprinkling some over my lips. Repeating the hand dusting as needed.

After getting her bowl of stones out she began the placement process. One on each ankle, knee, over my belly button, my heart, another directly between my eyes, and one on the inside of each wrist.

This felt disturbingly like the trance meditation. I was seconds from putting an end to it. The intense look of focus in her eyes was all I needed to know not to speak or interrupt.

She didn't speak to me as her mother had. Neesa was chanting in a melodic whisper. It sounded almost songlike with her honey rich voice.

Damien was back next to the window as soon as Neesa had begun. Obviously he was trying to stay out of her way. He respected her magic more than I realized.

Neesa stood next to the bed, one knee balancing her so that she leaned over me. Her hands danced over my body in a strange whimsical way. At times, the chanting would grow more intense. She'd place her hands firmly on my legs, my stomach, then placed both hands firm on my shoulders. Her fingers brushed once from my forehead down to my chin. They danced over my body through the air, then touched to my toes, and brushed all the way up to my face.

My skin was tingling. I thought at first from the powder, but it was everywhere, even places concealed by my clothes.

Each place she'd touched me with her hands felt strange. The pressure lingered. Her hand movements became more dramatic as her chanting also became more exotic, and intense. Once more, her hands placed hard against my shoulders. The sensation was so shocking I gasped. There was no pain yet the pressure made it feel as if her fingers had entered my body to grab hold of something deep inside of me, pulling it up, and out. It would have seemed like she was staring me dead in the eye, but I could tell as I looked up at her she wasn't seeing me.

When I saw what followed I wouldn't have been able to speak if I'd wanted to. A blue shimmering fog seemed to spill from her fingers like she were holding dry ice. The substance had a trail of origin from where her hands had been. She repeated the process on my stomach. It felt just as real, and had the same result. Again from my thighs. The thick fog swirled, dancing above my body.

Could they both see this?

Now just the tip of her index fingers touched me. Firm though it didn't hurt, I could tell she was touching on pressure points. Each time she came up, she pinched her fingers together as if pulling a string. The fog streamed between her fingers.

What the hell was this? Was I hallucinating? Her chanting was so powerful now it seemed to no longer come from her, but rather it came from everywhere.

I must have been trembling despite that it didn't feel like I was. Each one of the stones precariously placed began to shake. Looking up to try to see Neesa, I found myself mesmerized by the energy. It had taken on its own form.

The form of the same girl from my dreams in perfect detail though crafted of shimmering silver energy. She smiled down at me. Her hand reached for me. Then so suddenly that I nearly shrieked, each stone placed on my body exploded, forming a cloud of dust around me causing the apparition to fall apart. It looked as if a water balloon had burst midair. Just before I felt it hit me, everything went dark.

Pale sand felt like powder under foot. The sun blinded me. Everything looked white from the intense light, though it wasn't hot, just bright. The light began to fluctuate between white and pink. I couldn't look up to understand why.

Slowly I turned in circles looking around me in attempt to understand my surroundings. In attempt to prepare for the worst. I was getting used to the worst these days. May as well be ready.

The first thing I realized was that this wasn't a dream. I was perfectly one hundred percent me through and through.

Sand spread endlessly in every direction. It extended so far that it melted in with the horizon where my sight could no longer read the distance. Everything was level. No sand dunes, no slopes. Nothing, just flat beach or perhaps flat desert.

So what now? Looking down, I noted that I was dressed the same as I'd been before. So I hadn't changed. Somehow, I thought that was a good thing. Made things slightly more real.

Ah, the next thing to come to realization. No pain. No injuries. How long would it last?

Third. I wasn't alone. Blackness masked the figure as the sun was too brilliant for me to make out the features. The figure was a ways off, though moving steadily closer.

It was her. The girl I had dreamed of since my childhood. She was dressed in white shawls, looking just as I remembered her to be. "Hello, Lianna."

"Well you know my name. That's good to know. What's yours?"

"That's not important right now."

My eyes narrowed. From the light? Maybe. "Where are we?"

"Between reality. We're in limbo. Do not distress. You're not dead." A coy smile played at her perfect lips.

I needed a moment to take it in. She let me have it, showing no impatience. "Are you? Who are you? Why do I become you every night? Why do I watch your people getting murdered and tortured so brutally? Why must we feel their pain?" I sounded desperate. I was desperate.

She said nothing. Only looking on at me with pity. "Are you real?" she laughed at my apparently silly question.

"Every bit as real as you are. Yes, I suppose I am dead. Then again here I am. So therefor I am no longer. That's thanks to you of course. Which is really thanks to me." She seemed smug over her riddle.

"Why are we here? Was I right, the dreams are a message?"

"No. They're a story. Nothing more. Just a very old, very important story. We feel their pain because we must, Lianna."

"And Damien?"

"He's why we're both here, isn't he? The answers you seek are simple, Lianna. All questions have but one answer. Blood."

"My blood or his?" She only looked at me. Her patient smile made her angelic. Her lips parted to speak. The light was blinding. It over whelmed everything. I could see nothing but the white and pink radiation.

Her voice became more intense, almost frightened. "The key is in the blood. There is great power in sacrifice, just as there is life in death. The magic is there, Lianna. You have to reach for it! You must have faith!"

"Wait!" I woke up with a painful gasp as my body jerked up right. My hand was reached out as if to grab something, then tightened to a fist before holding against my chest. As if that could slow my pounding heart.

Damien was suddenly kneeling on the floor in front of me. His hand took mine. Our gazes locked. His other hand came up to my chin, his thumb stroking my cheek. "Are you okay?" he whispered so as to not wake Neesa. She lay curled up in a ball asleep at the end of the bed. She looked utterly exhausted.

For the first minute I couldn't answer him. The image of the sandy world, and that strange woman from my dreams still burned me. "Did you see it? Did you see what happened?" His eyes narrowed. He didn't answer. Instead he just sat waiting for me to continue, silent and patient. "She said that all the answers were in the blood... What does that mean?"

Damien's brow lifted precariously as he looked to Neesa in silent question if I meant her. All I could do was shake my head. My hands were shaking. I clinched my eyes shut, shaking my head. "Tell me," his voice was surprisingly soothing. I nodded, taking a deep breath. He moved to the head of the bed. Keeping my hand in his, he pulled me into his lap, arms circling me protectively.

I explained everything I experienced with Neesa up until I blacked out. The part with the dream girl I ran over briskly. It felt strange to even say it.

Damien's brow furrowed as his foot nudged Neesa in the leg lightly. "Wake up, Descendant," his voice rumbled like a growl. Nothing gentle about that.

As Neesa's eyes popped open she wrinkled her nose grouchily, looking up to Damien so obviously ready to give him a verbal reaming until she realized I was awake. "What can I help you with?" she grumbled through clenched teeth.

"You put her in a trance. You promised no one could reach her there because it would only induce an out of body experience so that she could heal peacefully with no stress from her mind. Your words, Descendant," his words were venom.

Damien starred at Neesa expectantly who only looked confused, and worried. "And yet that's not what happened." Her eyes widened as her lips parted slightly. It was a look of fear. "What happened was another being pulled her into a metaphysical dimension."

"Oh shit." Neesa grumbled as she sat up, looking at me as if she wasn't sure what she was looking at exactly.

"She's fine. No monsters waiting in the darkness this time. Just an undead spirit who's been haunting her for her entire life thus far."

Neesa seemed mostly confused. My eyes rolled at Damien's ploy in tormenting Neesa. With a sigh, I repeated my story.

"Well see there? Nothing bad really happened. She didn't get hurt. I really don't think she's possessed either. I mean, she still seems normal."

"Possessed? Okay this is not The Exorcist, and you are totally not a priest so don't joke." No one said anything. Worst of all no one looked at me. "You're not joking." Silence. "Are you?"

Neesa twisted herself so she sat cross-legged on my bed staring down at her toe rings as if they were the most fascinated things she had ever seen.

"Nothing happened. So it doesn't matter, but I do want to know how you're feeling." Damien ran his hand against my shoulder, making me shiver, and prickle with gooseflesh.

"Stiff mostly. Sore. Better than I did before. Not a hundred percent by any means, but the intense pain is gone." At least Neesa looked more cheerful with the acclimation.

"You should go look in the mirror. The bruising is already clearing up. Then you need to drink your tea," she yawned out the last sentence.

Damien let me go reluctantly. Sliding to the edge of the bed, I placed both feet on the floor to brace myself to stand. "Moment of truth," I announced before standing up slowly.

Honestly, I was prepared to hear a snap crackle pop, and nearly collapse as I slowly eased weight from one foot to the other. Don't get me wrong, it hurt. However, it was more like a painful twist rather than a full on break.

"Not bad am I right?" Neesa chirped as she fell over onto her back.

"We'll see." Slowly, I walked to the bathroom surprised to see it was nearly four in the morning according to the clock by my bed. Exhaling a heavy breath, I flipped on the bathroom light as I stepped up to the counter, looking in the mirror.

My stitches were gone. "I had to take them out when you were unconscious. It would have hurt too much if you'd finished healing first." Damien leaned on the frame of the door.

A dark line ran down the center of my lip to about half an inch past. It really did look surprisingly better. My cheek wasn't swollen nor was it quite as sunken in. That would just take time. At least I hoped it would go back to normal.

My fingers brushed the skin. Tender. It was still bright red, but looked much better considering. My nose was bruised blue over the bridge, though not at all swollen.

The biggest miracle to me was my eyes. No black. No blue. No swelling. Not even a puff nor swollen circle. "I take it you approve?" Our eyes met in the mirror.

"It's a lot better than before. At least I don't think you'll cringe quite so much when you look at me." I shrugged as if it had been no big deal. I then continued prodding my dinted cheek. My nose. Owe. Both were still pretty sore to the touch. At least I looked better.

"It wasn't the bruising that bothered me. It was how it happened. The bruises were just reminders. You're beautiful to me no matter how black and blue you turn."

I couldn't look at him as he spoke, so I continued to examine my other injuries. My wrist was next. I stretched my hand in front of me. Stretched my fingers. Made a fist. Rotated my wrist. Very sore. I wouldn't be able to lift much of anything with it for a while yet.

Still, it was certainly better than before. I was happy to see the stitches were gone, however sad to see my lip was going to obviously scar.

"That includes your scars, by the way," with nothing else said he turned, and left me to myself. It took me a few moments to clean up. Neesa left a small bag of necessities on the counter for me.

When I was done, Neesa was still sitting on my bed. Damien stood back by the window. My bag now lying by the door. It was time to leave. I walked over to the duffle, stuffing the bag of toiletries into it.

After I drank the weird rock tea, it was time to say goodbye. I shoved the jeans she'd left out for me into the duffle, only pulling on the tank top over the running bra.

While I finished getting ready, Damien carried everything down to the two vehicles.

"You sure about the laptop?" Neesa mumbled hesitantly.

"I only really used it for school. You always complain about your desktop so now the laptop is yours. Just do your best to empty the place out as quickly as you can. I don't want anyone snooping about even if I'm gone."

"Of course. Ryce and I will come back tomorrow to get everything moved. Promise. The laptop, well I guess I'll hang on to it. Until you come back." It killed me seeing her upset. I hugged her tightly to me. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her yet. I was exceedingly grateful Damien wasn't pushing us to hurry.

"I still have my cell. Soon as I change the number tomorrow I will text you. Just in case, you have Damien's number now. Apologize to Mike for me. Tell him to promote Angie into front house management. She kicks ass. She'll save him a headache," Neesa nodded to my instructions though barely cracked a smile in the end.

"What about Paul? What should I tell him?" I cringed. She didn't seem thrilled either. I wondered briefly how much she knew. It took a moment to realize she wouldn't have been so calm if she'd seen what had already happened.

"Tell him the same thing you tell everyone else. He shouldn't know anything else for right now. If you have to, tell him I was sick of my life here." It wasn't a total lie.

Neesa and I hugged goodbye one last time by the door outside. Despite what she said, I believed it was likely the last time we would see each other. "Please stay safe, Anna... Our world was not meant for humans. They don't last long once they find their way in."

There was nothing I could say. All I could do was smile, and nod. Neesa went up to Damien, taking a deep breath. "She's human."

He nodded understandingly.

"I mean it, Damien. She needs more than your protection. You have to make her eat at least twice a day, otherwise she won't. The Chinese food I put in your back seat. You have a fridge at your place?"

"Yes, ma'am." He wasn't mocking her.

"K. Get it in the fridge soon as you get back to your place, it will last her a couple of days. There's a few grocery sacks, too. Her Red Bull and Fiji water. Make her drink more than just the Red Bull." Smirking slightly, he nodded at her instructions.

"She's human, Damien." Neesa's hands were trembling.

His hand reached out, taking a hold of her arm. Their eyes locked. "I will take care of her, Neesa. You have my word."

She nodded rapidly. Her mouth set to a grim line. "If you really mean it... I want it in blood."

His brows lift with mild surprise. Without a beat of hesitation, he held his hand out to her palm up. I watched quietly. Curious, yet something stirred inside of me that felt almost daunting.

Nodding approvingly, Neesa pulled something from her pocket. I couldn't tell what it was from where I stood.

"I will protect her, and care for her in every way that my body is able, until I am no longer able. I swear it in blood."

Without hesitating, Damien brought his hand to his mouth, and bit deep into the palm. He squeezed his hand over her open hand. Blood poured in a small stream to fill her palm.

"I bind you to your promise, Damien. As a Descendant of Maya I will see this blood promise kept. You are bound." Her hand closed around the object. His hands came up, closing around hers. Their eyes met once more. He nodded solemnly before they parted ways without another word. Neesa smiled sadly at me as she climbed into her car.

Damien came to stand beside me as she drove away, wiping the blood off on his jeans. "Are you going to explain what just happened?" I looked up to him. His clean hand came up, brushing my cheek softly.

Without a word he took my hand as he opened the door to his Jeep. Hands on my hips, he lifted me to my seat before shutting the door.

"So what happens now?" I didn't know what else to say to him.

"Now we go home."

A song suddenly came to mind. A gothic lullaby, Sally's song. "Do you listen to much Amy Lee?"

As we drove past a streetlamp, I saw his lips twist into a slight smirk. A remote was held to his dash next to the system by some magnet contraption. It looked like the key pad of a phone. Without hesitation, he punched in a number, and hit play.

"I can't believe you had that." Yes, it was a daunting melody. But I loved it. Hell, I loved pretty much everything by Amy Lee. Which of course he kept playing for me.

"Anything you want to listen to I probably already have. I've been known to lock myself in a room for days on end to do nothing more than lie on the floor, and listen to music."

All I could do was smile at that. I'd done the same thing plenty of times. Maybe not for days, but for a good long time at least. "So what do you think she meant anyway? All of the answers are in the blood. I mean that just sounds creepy."

"It's understandable. If you think about it, I am a Vampire. Blood is a pretty big factor there. Did you ask her any specific questions?"

"She wouldn't answer in detail. It ended too quickly." Damien glanced at me from the corner of his eye. Something told me he didn't agree entirely.

Being reminded of Neesa mentioning possession, I shuddered slightly. Quickly, I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. It didn't get past his notice though.

"I did get one thing from her, come to think of it. She said the dreams were a story, a very important story."

"Hmm." His brow knit. His left elbow propped against the sill of the down window, fingers against his chin.

"Tell me." I looked over at him, watching him process whatever it was he was thinking.

His brows lift as he looked over at me. "Is it possible she just wanted someone to know? I've heard of spirits reaching out, not like this, but in other ways just because they needed someone to know what had happened to them. You have to admit, her story is incredible. Whatever the demons were, this was more than just an injustice."

Damien let me sit and think on it. He was good at that- far more patient than I was. "Okay, but why repeat the dreams over and over? Why do I keep reliving her death? Why me? Did I tell you that we needed to feel their pain? Or she said something like that."

"Do you remember what all she said? You were vague when you first explained it, and with Neesa."

Reluctantly, I paraphrased while still banishing the memory of him being a part of the dreams from my mind completely and utterly, "It was very peculiar. Illusive. I am real. I am dead. Though here I am so therefor I am not dead. Thanks to you, which is thanks to me. The dreams are a story. A very old very important story. We need to feel their pain. The key is in the blood. There is great power in sacrifice. There is life in death. The magic is there. Have faith."

With my window down, I curled up in the seat with my head near the sill. The road took us through valleys, and small mountain peaks. Twisting turns, and slow winding roads.

It was a full moon. There was not a single cloud in the sky. The forest was lit with an eerie beautiful blue glow. Fireflies danced through the sky like stars themselves. The drive was beautiful with an eerie calm to the night. I should have known better than to trust in the peace.

I had been way off on the distance from Damien's place from Burlington. I'm not sure why I noticed now and not before that he lived in Manchester.

Maybe he liked the neighborhood? The incredibly pricey homes? The distance and seclusion from pretty much everything? I probably only noticed because for once we weren't going over a hundred miles per hour.

We talked a lot on the drive. Personal history. Mostly mine. He didn't like talking about himself or his family. I didn't even know their names. Nor any of his past for that matter. I went over the long list of my bigger injuries. Bike wrecks. Ski accidents.

The year I tried snowboarding was the worst. The wake board incident. The jet ski mishap. The boating accident. Camping horror stories. He found my history painfully amusing from what I gathered. I loved camping. Camping just didn't love me. He was grinning ear to ear. It was sort of sardonic.

For the rest of the drive we didn't talk about the present. We didn't talk about the future.

He asked how I came to work at Riads. He asked about school. Promised I could finish my degree if I chose to. Though it would be online. Neither of us had to say it. I just knew. Didn't mind.

We discussed the reasons for my fluidity in multiple languages. French and Spanish? French was very common locally being so close to Canada. Plus it was such a beautiful language. Anywhere in America Spanish was spoken. Best to know both I figured. Russian and Italian? Italian was pretty close to Spanish so it was easy to learn. I'd always dreamed of going to Italy.

He insisted he'd take me. I laughed because it sounded like a dream. Fantastic. Impossible. It would turn out that I was mostly right.

Then finally! He spoke of himself. For the first several hundred years he roamed the European countryside, though rarely did he stray far from Italy. Was he Italian? He laughed, shaking his head no. Just loved the country. He went on at length describing things I had only read about in books. I was entranced.

Back to me. Sigh. I wanted to know more about him.

My grandmother had been Russian, and refused to speak English. I thought it was awesome that I was the only one who could talk to her easily. Often times I translated for her. I recalled a time when I was five; I had to translate for her on the telephone to her bank because I was more fluent than anyone else in the family even then. He chuckled. It was the first time I did so for her, although not the last.

I told Damien all about living with my grandmother. My Babushka. Though she tried, she failed in teaching me to cook, though I could play chess like a pro. I could play almost every card game thinkable thanks to her. Babushka loved to gamble. She would bet her candies, and I would bet my cheese crackers. I missed her every day. She had known about the dreams, and never once looked at me as if there were something wrong with me.

His Russian wasn't too bad, but his Italian was positively beautiful. Simply because we could, and mostly because I loved the sound of his voice, we spoke in Italian for the rest of the drive.

As we pulled up to the house it seemed to be glowing. The moss creeping up the sides of the gray stone looked sapphire blue in the moonlight. Every time I saw this place, coming or going, it left me in a wondrous awe.

The windows were a gleaming black giving the ancient stonework a mystique radiance of its own. Unlike much of the Colonial style I was used to, this place seemed even older with its Victorian modeling. A fairytale cottage overgrown into a small mansion.

The molding was deep red oak. Everything else was done in raw stone. The house was large with an elegant deep-set porch leading to the massive red oak door. Complete with cast iron hinges. I could fall in love with a place like this, all nestled into the woods unseen from any road.

My door opened before I could even unbuckle because he moved so much faster than I could. I climbed out of the Jeep, holding his extended hand as he grabbed my duffle bag out of the back seat with his other. Still in Italian, "This thing's a Hummer."

He chuckled. "It's a Rubicon, sweets. Not a Hummer."

"Well then it's a baby Hummer." Utter defiance!

"Hummer's are not even made by the same company as Rubicon. Rubicon's are Jeep." His lips were fighting a grin.

Mine grinned devilishly back up at him. "Baby Hummer."

"If you want to see a Hummer then you should see my brother's. Now he- has a Hummer. I prefer the Jeep myself." His lips could fight me no longer.

We teased, playing cat and mouse around the Jeep. He chased me into the house. Pinned me to a wall in the foyer where he dropped my bag. He chased me to the stairs where he pinned me again. Neither of us could stop smiling.

He nipped the straps of my shirt against the flesh of my shoulders. Taking a hold of me, Damien pulled me against him. Silently, I wished he'd never let go. His lips hovered against my ear. "Do. Not. Move." His lips brushed my cheek. Then he was gone.

I sat on the stairs waiting patiently in the exact same sprawled position he'd left me. I listened to the front door. Car door. Front door. Fridge. I laughed.

"A promise is a promise." He smirked innocently enough, however, the gleam in his eye said the subject was not as light as teased.

"Yes of course." My arms wrapped around his neck as he came back to me. His hands slid beneath me, taking a tight hold of my hips, and lifting me up with him as he stood. My legs wrapped around him securely. He turned, resting against the wall, supporting me easily with one arm.

I couldn't hold it back any longer. I needed answers, "What is a blood promise, Damien? What did Neesa ask you to do?"

He sighed. Before I knew it, we were at the top of the stairs. The move had taken less than a second. My arms were strangling him, but he only laughed. It was a weak laugh.

He walked at a leisurely pace down a hall that I didn't see, into a room I didn't notice. Turning, he fell onto a bed that may as well have been invisible to me. All I saw was him.

Damien held me so that I sat on his hips. I couldn't help but giggle.

His smile tugged at one corner of his lips. Bringing a hand up to brush my hair back from my face behind my ear, he let out a soft sigh. "I swore to her that I would take care of you. That I would protect you."

"What did she make you do, Damien? Why did you bite your hand?" I shook my head, neither disbelieving, nor understanding what he'd done nor why.

Damien sighed. "It's a blood oath. For Neesa, it was assurance. To swear in blood for a supe is binding in every way. There have been those who've died for breaking a blood promise."

With my heart hammering loudly, my breath caught in my throat. "Would you die? If you broke the promise?"

"Maybe." He shrugged as if it didn't matter. The pain of my realization was worse than any broken bone. His hands found my cheeks. "Hey, it's all right." I couldn't breathe. "It was my decision to make, and I would do it again." I was in morbid shock. "Lianna," his voice darkened, stern yet worried.

"Why would you do it?" Shaking my head, I pushed off from him. "Where's my phone? I have to call Neesa. She can't do this. She-" Damien sat up, his arms wrapping my shoulders.

He cut me off, "Lianna, I have no intentions of ever breaking that promise. Or do you still not get it?" His hand found my cheek, turning my chin so that I would look at him. There was a thick lump of unease balled in my throat. I was furious with Neesa. I was horrified for Damien. I neither thought nor cared what any of this implied for me.

I was feeling better physically, though mentally I'd been put through a turbine. For a very long time I sat unmoving. Staring at nothing, and seeing less than that. My mind was focusing very hard on not thinking of what he'd told me. It was difficult. I was hurt, and angry. The subject had to change before my mind just collapsed in on itself from the weight of the chaos that was my life. As always, he gave me all the time that I needed.

"So what was the deal with the blood stone?" I had wanted to know since it happened. He complied diligently.

"It's because of our nature. It's complicated to explain." He sat beside me on the bed, leaning back on his hands. He took a moment to compile his thoughts. "Basically what causes it to cleanse, and repair your blood cells kills ours. The more pure, and unprocessed the stone, the stronger they tend to be. Over all, the results tend to vary depending on our exposure."

One hand came up to brush my hair back. "For example-" His fingers stroked slowly over the curve of my lips. "If I kissed you deeply right now I would become weak if not quite sick, I'm sure. If I drank your blood-" His fingers slowly stroked from my lips down over the hollow of my neck. "It may even kill me if I took too much. It makes us incredibly weak you see. It will take a couple days to clear from your bloodstream."

"And touching it directly?" His touch chilled me while simultaneously lighting me on fire all at once. My voice barely came out in a mere whisper. Damien was enjoying this far too much.

"Burns." His fingers slowly pulled my hair back to drape over my other shoulder. Yeah, so did his voice.

"But touching me?" my voice quivered.

"Burns in an entirely different way." Without directly touching me, he leaned closer. Breathing me in. So close I could feel his cool breath tickle my flesh.

"How strong was the stone Neesa used?" my voice trembled still as his lips slowly drug over my flesh from my collarbone up just behind my ear.

"Very," he mumbled between kisses.

"B-but you're kissing me now?" My fingers began to tremble as they held tight onto my knees to keep them from shaking.

"Not really." His lips brushed my neck with light laughter.

"Oh. Okay..." was all I seemed able to say as my neck tilted to the side. As I did, he pulled back so suddenly it was like a switch in him had just shut off completely.

"I guess I just enjoy torturing myself." He shrugged casually. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he sat back against the head of the bed.

"Not just yourself apparently," I mumbled while sinking back against him.

He chuckled. "Ah, sorry for that." Uh huh, sure he was. Idly his hand stroked my bare thigh from my knee up to the hem of my shorts.

"Okay then. So now what?" I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"Mmm. Well, you should get some sleep soon. Tomorrow we can get some things in order, and then the next day we can leave. Italy perhaps?"

"Oh." I swallowed on my dry throat. My body was ridged, and tense from my fingers to my toes.

"What's wrong?" he questioned as his fingers slid easily up under my shirt to trace the tattoo on my side again.

"Nothing. Just not tired I suppose."

Damien looked thoughtful a moment while his fingers traced the tattoo as if he knew precisely every vine. He probably did. Snaking his arm around me completely, he readjusted us both. "So what would you like to do then?" I lay down on my back with him laid beside me. Damien lay propped up by his elbow so that he could look down at me. A smug satisfied grin spread his lips.

My first thought was out of the question. The second thought amused me. "Ask you questions that make you uncomfortable."

The bad side of this was they also made me uncomfortable. However with all things in life it is better to be uncomfortable than left deaf, dumb, and blind.

His brow twitched. I swore I could feel him trying to read my mind, but unless he had been lying, we both knew my mind was running on autopilot at high speeds so he couldn't. At least I hoped not. "Well?" he asked curiously as he starred down at me.

His fingers tugged my shirt up above my belly button, tracing patterns across my flesh light enough to tickle.

Nervous laughter fell from my lips as I turned to him a little more. "What's the plan here? You run me around the world, for what? Just to protect me? What exactly is this?" To try and make him understand what I was talking about, judging by his expression it was good thing I did, my hands motioned between us.

Were we a couple? Did I just get turned into a carry out dinner at his will? I just couldn't compute everything that had happened in the last several weeks without blunt answers any more. Thus the autopilot. What was happening? He said he loved me. What did that mean to him?

What did that mean for me?

He didn't say anything. Instead, he starred at me for a very long very silent amount of time. All the while, a devilish smirk tugged at his lips.

Luckily for me, I had learned time had practically no meaning to him so sometimes it just took a long time for him to answer. I didn't like it, but I was learning to deal. "What exactly do you want it to be?" he finally asked. His lips still twisted with amusement even though his intense peridot green eyes sparkled with pure curiosity. The fingers kept roaming.

"That's not fair. You don't get to answer questions with questions. I'm pretty durable. You don't have to worry about my feelings, so let's hear it." Not only was I durable, but I had always been known for being stubborn.

"You're not at all durable, Lianna. That's the problem I'm having." He sighed as his amusement faded away.

"Does the problem have anything to do with a certain blood promise?" He frowned at my question, shaking his head. No? Or just disapproving?

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to answer your questions. This is all as new to me as it is for you. All I am sure of is I need to be with you. I need to keep you safe."

"Need to be and want to be are very different things." Why was I trying to ruin this for myself? He was stunningly good-looking, sweet, and he cared about me. The list could go on for decades. Hell, he didn't have flaws that I could even identify.

"And the fact I'm a Vampire doesn't make your list of flaws? Interesting." He smirked again, looking all appropriately amused.

My eyes narrowed in some annoyance that also caused a heavy sigh. No, it wasn't a fault. If he hadn't been a Vampire I'd be dead right now. So no, definitely not a fault. "I'm not sure anything other than fiction could handle my kind of weird."

Damien shrugged casually, as if a simple shrug explained everything perfectly. "Also, for your information need and want are the same things for me in this situation." His expression read, Hah. So there, combined with complete sobriety.

"Good to know." It was my turn to show my own version of smug amusement.

"I'm sorry I don't know what to say. There was never a plan, Anna. Certainly, it seems foolish though truly, I just want to be with you. It was only my hope you would be happy and safe with me."

I caught the flash of sadness, and worry in his eyes. Then just as quickly it was gone, replaced by utter calm, and control. "I'm human... Do you plan on keeping me this way?"

He had no answer. Damien looked away from me. Finally, after a few minutes, his head shook. Fingers traced circles around my belly button. "I knew this conversation was coming. Yet even after all this time-" Gently he tugged my shirt up higher so that it covered only my breasts. His arm wrapping around my hips, he laid his head against my exposed stomach. "It's not as good as it seems, Lianna. It's got its perks but I don't know if I would sentence someone to eternity willingly. Besides, not everyone can be turned. It's not all that safe." He didn't seem done, however deep in thought. The weight of consequences could tip the balance in either direction.

"Yet the possibility of forever is temptation at its finest. Turning you does seem so greedy. I've weighed the pros and cons. In the end I still don't know what to do. Several times already I have asked myself what I would do in a dire situation. I tend to be a bit rash at times. It's a question I've been asking myself since the night I found you in your loft on the floor. I haven't been able to come up with an answer yet," his voice was dark. Only time would tell.

My hands lay on him, one to his shoulder while the other idly ran long strokes through his short hair.

I wondered how his thoughts played out through his mind. Let her die? Let her exist for eternity? Would he want me by his side for that long? I hoped so. But for how long? He obviously wasn't attached at the hip to whoever turned him. Would he feel burdened to keep me with him from guilt or the blood oath? Would he tire, and move on? The possibilities were as endless as my thoughts.

Taking my hand from his shoulder, he kissed my fingers slowly one at a time. He never asked how I felt about it. Perhaps he knew or perhaps he didn't want to know. His kisses trailed to the inside of my wrist, holding there firmly for a long time. I felt the slightest vibration as a faint moan rumbled his lips.

The kissing continued as he turned to lay over me gently. Propped on one arm, the other trailed taunting fingers up my arm then back down. His lips placed over my heart another long moment. This time I heard his moan more than felt it. My hand, running through his hair, began to trace circles at the nape of his neck with the tips of my fingers.

His head lifted up. His gaze sought mine with a deep hunger. My hand placed to his cheek, the other still kneading his neck. He turned, kissing my palm without pulling his gaze from mine.

"Lianna, I really need you to believe me when I say the blood oath doesn't sway how I feel for you. It doesn't make me tied to you. It only assures Neesa that for as long as you're in our world you will have someone always willing to be there for you. I didn't need a promise of any kind to want that. Nor does it mean your life is to be in danger as long as you're with me. We can go to Italy or anywhere in this world. I will give you as normal a life as you desire."

My hand brushed his cheek gently. "Don't lie to me, Damien." His brow furrowed deeply. Before he could rebut, I grinned. "I suck at normal nearly as much as you do. Besides, where's the fun in life if there is never any danger?" He chuckled as I smiled.

"You don't have to worry about me not feeling safe with you. I just don't want to slow your life down. You shouldn't have to change for me."

He smiled, kissing over my heart, moaning softly. "You already have changed me." He kissed again. "I have been fairly content most of my life. I care very deeply for the members of my House. However, in the many years of my life, I've not known I could feel so intensely about one other being."

Call me pessimistic. Call me sarcastic. The two were so muddy with what I said next I didn't even know the difference, "Well now you can feel intensely about a great many things. They don't all have to be pleasant. You can detest someone intensely. Feel intense hate." My hand waved as if I could go on a ways.

He glared up at me teasingly. In a smooth motion, he maneuvered to lie between my legs. His hands squeezed my hips, running up slowly. He kissed against my slender stomach. "Hmmm, what I feel intensely about? I feel very intensely about you. I care for you intensely. Intense protectiveness." His fingers spread up rubbing over my ribs. His head dipped nipping my belly button.

"Intense longing- Intense want- Intense ache- Intense desire." Between every other word, he placed a kiss on my stomach. Eight fingers slid under my shirt under the band of my bra. His fingers mostly behaved. "Intense passion." Kiss. His thumbs ran up over my shirt against my breasts.

I inhaled deeply. His tongue flicked at my belly button. I let out a long gust of breath. "Incredibly... intense... love." His lips drug kisses from one hipbone to the other before resting his cheek against the flat of my stomach.

My hand ran through his short hair, tugging lightly. The other clutched tightly to his shoulder, enough for my nails to be digging in. I hadn't even realized I was doing so. He looked up to me with a look of hunger in his eyes. It wasn't one of thirst.

We laid there for what felt like forever. Damien lay perfectly still. As if he was frozen in time. His fingers didn't trace patterns along my flesh. He just laid there, without breathing for that matter. My hand on his shoulder had moved to lie over his other cool cheek. "Your skin is like fire," he sounded far from uncomfortable. "A fire I have been longing to feel for most of an eternity." My heart sped, and a full smile swelled devilishly over his lips. "Your heart is pounding."

"Sorry," my voice was barely a whisper.

"Why would you be sorry? I like it. In fact, I rather enjoy knowing that I can have such an effect on you." My cheeks burned. He chuckled as he heard the tempo increase, and my body grew even warmer.

After laying there for endless minutes, my heart had finally slowed. At times, he would turn, and resume his trail of kisses. Soon as my heart would begin to speed up again he'd stop, resting his cheek against my stomach to listen. It was perfect bliss.

Damien had stopped breathing completely. It was strange for me. Obviously though, it wasn't unusual for him.

After a time, his body grew stiff. It was only a slight change, but he seemed rigid with tension. I was afraid to move or speak. Had I done something? Was something wrong?

We continued to lay there in silence. He never eased. In fact, I could feel his body grow more rigid with each passing second. In another moment's time, he'd moved so blindingly fast it was as if he had vanished.

When I realized he was on the floor by the bed, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Sitting on the floor, Damien knelt on his knees. His head hung down low, one arm on the bed the other hand holding to his temple. After a moment of hesitation, he rose to stand up, appearing over by the bay doors as he leaned against the frame.

By this time he looked utterly distressed. "Damien, what's wrong?" Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. A habit I was learning induced by stress and pain both. I wondered if it was me that had caused him pain.

"Just a little. Please don't feel guilty. Or-" He shook his head again. Even by the light of the moon, Damien's eyes looked glazed over. "No part of me wants to do this but I think I'm going to have to leave you here for a little while on your own." If it were possible, he looked even more placid than he usually did. Somehow, I didn't believe it was just an effect of the moonlight.

"What's wrong?" My eyes narrowed as I watched him closely, I noticed the bluish tint under his eyes was darker than usual. His skin seemed nearly translucent.

"Must be an effect from the blood stone. I was hoping it would pass on its own. Nothing I can't take care of though." Standing immediately by my side, he leaned over to kiss my cheek. The effect was chilling. His skin was bitterly cold now.

"Can I ask where you're going?" I kissed his cheek in return as he pulled away.

"You may not want to know," he said while rubbing his forehead.

"Tell me anyway." Stubborn.

"Drinking enough blood usually cures just about anything wrong with us generally." His blatant expression caught me by surprise as his eyes focused on me. It was obvious he wanted to know my reaction.

"Good. I hope it helps."

His brow rose suspiciously, though all he could do was give a slight nod. My statement caught him off guard obviously. "It will, I'm sure. Will you be okay here by yourself? I don't like leaving you alone but-" He paused with a heavy breath. "I don't have very many options left I'm afraid."

"I'll be fine. Go, have a nice dinner," my voice had a strange sarcasm to it, but what else do you say? He laughed warily as he kissed my forehead.

He backed to the door as I stood to follow. His brow rose. "You should sleep. I'll be a few hours, but I won't go far." I shook my head giving him an in your dreams steady stare. "Very well."

Turning, he left the door of the bedroom, and walked down the hall. His hand clutched the banister as he took each step carefully. I followed, watching his every movement. His knuckles were white, fingertips red. His knees had a slight buckle to them with every step.

My arms folded tightly over my chest. "I am sure you can find ways to keep yourself preoccupied. My home is yours. I give my full permission for you to be nosey." He turned to me as I reached the bottom step, tapping my nose, a faint smile on his lips.

His fingers spread, brushing my bruised cheek just as faint as the smile on his lips. "Just be careful. Whatever you do, do not leave this house. Not even for a moment. Promise me you won't even open the door." He could flip from teasing to serious with the simple flip of a switch. "Even if you think you hear me."

My brow furrowed with a bit of annoyance at the over protectiveness. He stared down at me with his own stubborn way, waiting for my compliance. He wouldn't leave without it so I gave in. "All right. I promise. You know I'm not done with the questions right?"

Damien shook his head, giving me a weak smile of apology. "Of course you're not." He stepped forward, kissing my cheek. "I love you, Anna."

Then he was gone.

Time went by slowly. I'd settled on the floor lying on my stomach in front of the fireplace after flipping some lamps on.

The fireplace had been easy to start. There were logs already in place. It was switch activated to ignite the fire. Real wood, not the fake stuff. The smell was wonderful.

In front of me, I had laid out a weathered leather bound book more than half full of random sketches, and a bag of oil pastels. I flipped through each page slowly until arriving at a blank page just halfway through.

With nothing in mind, my fingers slowly moved over the page. Soon so absorbed I was no longer aware of my surroundings. Dangerously unaware.

My fingers danced along the page of their own accord. Broad shoulders sculpted, and contoured. Large black feathered wings emerged on the page from his shoulder blades. He sat on his knees. Arms out by his side, palms up. His head was bowed. The image looked down on him from behind. I titled the bottom, Mercy. It had only taken an hour.

Another page. Another sketch.

A hand took shape on the page. The hand curved as if reaching to take hold of something. Then a dark smudge took the form of a dark droplet of liquid coming off the tip of the middle finger. A cut formed deep across the palm in shades of grey to black. Another droplet running down the length of the finger now...

A loud snap echoed through the house as the lights flashed, and then went out along with the power. The stereo went off, silencing Dido's voice instantly. "Crap." Luckily, I was used to the dark.

The only remaining light came from a scarce glow of burning embers in the fireplace. Nevertheless, my eyes quickly readjusted. It must have been getting ready to storm. Perhaps a bolt of lightning had blown the power. Leaving my book as it lay, I stood slowly, still a bit sore, walking to the window.

It was too quiet to be storming. Perhaps it was only the beginning. Lightning storms are pretty common in Vermont. Just like any stupidly curious human with dull senses, I cupped my hands to the glass, leaning closer, waiting for the sky to light up. Instead, the shock I received was more than a crack of thunder.

The glass exploded into a million glittering pieces as a force I had never thought imaginable hit me square in the chest, throwing me across the room. Falling back onto the hard wood with a scream, I hit my head on the floor. It felt like a hammer pounding into my skull. My head spun as I lay stunned, the wind knocked out of me.

It took everything I had just to sit up. My ankle throbbed, surely having twisted it again in my landing. The force that had shattered the window, and knocked me back was standing just a few feet from me.

A low snarl rippled through the night. The figure took a slow step closer, coming to stand directly over me. His skin was black as night itself, yet glistened as if made of wet oil. Red gleamed off his flesh by the glowing embers of the fire.

With eyes glowing a dark ruby red, he towered over me dauntingly, staring me down. He stood as a man, but his flesh was of a beast. Almost serpent like. Black scales shined as he moved.

Crawling backwards to the wall by the fireplace, my nails dug into the exposed stone. I watched him saunter slowly after me, stopping just a few feet from me. It wasn't human.

It wasn't anything I had seen before in my life.

If I could have stopped myself, I would have kept my mouth shut. "Damien," whispering his name caused the beast of a man with the midnight flesh to lunge for me, taking me up in his hand by my throat.

As he pinned my body to the wall, I hung like a rag doll off the floor. Gurgling from the pressure on my throat, the blood flow cut off as well as my oxygen. My hands came up clawing worthlessly at his fingers. Kicking my feet back, I braced myself against the wall trying to relieve the pressure uselessly.

"Say his name again so that I may rip your spine out, kitten," the voice was not from the man who held me. It came from the window. I knew it instantly. The man from the docks.

The old New Englander's accent. It made sense now. Stupid thing to think about at that moment, huh? We can't help how our minds work. Pictures of British red coats, and blue ones, with white powder wigs flashed through my mind. Perhaps.

My eyes bulged, rolling back as I became desperate for the blood flow and oxygen to return to normal. The beast who sought to strangle me had his face inches from mine. The breath was indescribable. Let's just say bad is a minor description. Rotten meat was closely associated.

His features were sharply pronounced, nearly jagged. Rough scales framed his brow, and spread down his neck. A whisper from the back of my mind supplied the name of what he was. Dragon. I pictured the rotten meat. In doing so, I saw my own corpse.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth. Protruding black fangs easily three times the size of Damien's, and every tooth razor sharp in-between threatened my flesh. A low growl rumbled from his chest up through his hard black lips.

Suddenly jerked away from the wall, the clamp on my throat was unbearable before he chucked me across the room. Sending me flying into a wall only to land on a table that shattered on impact.

Agony overwhelmed me like I had never known. Gasping for the air that was knocked out of me, my body began to succumb to the pain. A crack alerted me to the break not just in the table, but to something snapping internally. Ribs maybe. My right hand moved to my left, pulling out a dagger of wood that had gone straight through the palm.

The one at the window lunged at me. Natural instincts kicked in, and took over. Defending myself with the piece of wood, I made a poor attempt to stab at my flying attacker. As he landed, he grabbed my wrist with the hand holding the bloody wooden stake, snapping it back as if it was a twig. Screaming again, my body twisted as I dangled in air.

His voice ruptured into an ear-bleeding laugh. He grabbed my other hand, pulling it to his mouth, slowly licking the blood up from my palm. "So sickeningly sweet. No wonder your blood called to him."

The appalling nausea in my stomach made me feel weak, pathetic. I was fragile. Like Damien had said. Only he forgot to add worthless, and frail. A rage began to boil inside of my veins, deadening the pain.

My chest heaved as my breathing deepened to control my mind, pulling me away from the torturous pain. He stood, still holding my hand against his mouth. His tongue ground into the open wound. He held me dangling like a lifeless rag doll. I struggled to stand, though as I did, he threw me against the windowsill into the broken glass.

Dozens of shards stabbed into my flesh all over my body like tiny searing daggers. Cringing, I swallowed hard to keep from vomiting right then.

They wouldn't be able to stand the smell of my blood for much longer. How much more time did I have now? Hopefully not long. My stomach wouldn't last much longer before heaving for sure.

Two dull thumps alerted my attention to the sill where I looked up at two glossy black shoes. Tears swelled in my eyes from the pain, glistening in the dark. I didn't want to look up further. Damien, I'm so sorry.

Crouched down on the sill, his hand took a hold of my chin forcing me to look at him. His fingers brushed through the stream of tears. Bringing them up to his mouth, he licked them away.

My personal demon stood perched on the sill of the shattered bay window. His tenor voice was as arrogant as an aristocrat.

The leader of their trio's demeanor was one of grandeur. Old wealth that you read of in books or see in movies about upper-class from the seventeenth century.

He wore ruffles with velvets combined with rich silks, and thick satins. Even his body language was flamboyant in his gestures. His flesh was ghost white, yet thick. Too even. He had an absolutely perfect complexion that caught light unnaturally. His eyes were nearly perfect white. Only the markings of the pupil, and outer black ring showed visible color.

"Scour the woods, Beckett. He's bound to be back soon. I'm certain he heard her screams as I am most certain he felt her pain. It won't be long now. Demetrius, take her to the top of the stairs. I want her to be the first thing he sees. Make it a nice show. However do remember this time that you can't eat her, or whatever it is you do. At least not until D'Tera is dead." His hand motioned in the air dismissively.

Beckett, the one from the docks swayed on his feet seeming disoriented. His eyes settled onto me in a way that chilled me to the bone. It was an expression caught between pain, and lust.

Beckett's hand came up, and held to the side of his head as he stared at me. He was completely absorbed with me, which resulted in him ignoring his leader. "What the hell are you?" He groaned as he swayed in a near drunken stumble. "What did you do to me?"

"What's the matter, asshole? Is my blood too rich for you? Maybe too much iron? No? Well hell, maybe you're just not strong enough." Spatting blood to the floor at his feet, my gaze led up to the creature. My stalker. The man nightmares were made of. Just not mine.

To make things clear for you now, I knew damn well he was having a reaction to the blood stone. With this knowledge also came the understanding that there was no doubt left of my impending death and power.

My only hope was to piss them all off enough they each fed from me. If I accomplished that then Damien's chances of survival, and dare I hope killing them all, improved greatly.

The other two took great pleasure in Beckett's pain, and his teasing alike. One of the three musketeers, the leader no less, even slapped his leg at such rueful comedy.

"Well now! Look at you, little Anna! You really are something aren't you? Look how upset such a weak and broken child has made the almighty hunter." His hand rose, snapping his fingers before pointing down to me. Before he could speak to order my demise, I went after him.

"Yes, I'm so sure you could handle my blood. If it's too rich for Beckett here, I know some nancy like you sure couldn't manage," despite my agony, sarcasm was a well working weapon in my limited arsenal. I wasn't quite reaching the chiding tone I had aspired for though.

Unable to help myself, I fell into a fit of bitter laughter. Blood splattered from my lips with each dark chuckle brought on by the pain. Lying on the floor helplessly, I stared up at him with a dark glint in my eyes. Hatred.

Before I could even blink, the leader of the mangy pack had my jaw clinched in his hand. Purposefully using enough pressure to crush the lower jawbone, he lifted me high off the floor as I cried out in pain. My feet dangled from the ground by nearly a foot.

"I could drain you in under a minute, you broken human filth." Funny, human sounded like the true insult here.

With a spat of blood into his face, I gurgled. "Fuck you."

As if I wasn't broken enough, his free hand came up, and with a horrifically long fingernail, he drug the tip over my breast before lifting me higher to suck against the torn flesh.

His tongue dug down between my breasts, dragging harshly over the deep laceration. Using his many pointed teeth he tore away what meat he could. His tongue was as sand paper while his saliva burned like acid. I wanted to scream, kick or even cry, though I couldn't. I just couldn't. My body was done. The fight was draining out of me.

All at once, he dropped me. I collapsed in a heap onto the floor. "Ahh maybe later, little Anna. Virgin blood isn't all too appealing to me." His laughter wasn't even sinister. It was purely frenzied.

"Now where was I? Ah yes. Beckett!" he screamed angrily. "Find Damien!" The humor was gone. He was furious. "I want him here before she dies. Demetrius take the trash out. It smells." Fancy boy stepped over me as if I was a slimy mud puddle that he desperately wanted to avoid.

Beckett swayed on his feet before staggering outside through the broken window. In the meantime, the other glorified monster began to stumble to the couch. He seemed shaken, but fought the poison as if it were a bad trick I'd played on him. Two down. One to go.

The larger beast, Demetrius, was at my side before I heard him move. Reaching down with one massive talon clawed hand, he grabbed hold of my side. It felt as if my eyes were going to pop out of my skull as he picked me up.

Each rib bone snapping was perfectly audible. His fingers dug through my flesh and meat as if I were made of play dough. For a split second, my scream was blood curdling. Through it, I heard their laughter ring in my ears.

My eyes rolled back into my head as the shock came over me. I felt lifeless. My mind was slipping away. Even the pain became a dull throb as I fought to stay conscious. I wasn't going to last much longer. I was dying. I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. Nothing meant death.

Demetrius walked at a leisurely pace up the stairs. My body was held with less concern than an old bag as I was drug up each step with a painful thud.

At last, we reached the top where he let me collapse at the landing. Pain was the only thing allowing me to hang onto my reality. I clung to every agonizing throb. For how long I don't know. I drifted in and out as my subconscious desperately grabbed onto the pain, longing for it to keep me awake, to keep me alive.

My eyes were so blurred with tears, and my blood that it gave the world a hazy ruby glaze. My other senses were alert. The smell of blood was nauseatingly powerful. The taste of blood was overwhelming, and putrid. Sense of feel had become my living hell. My ears were ringing, causing every sound in the room to become sorely acute. Each step this demon took had pounded like a daunting drum.

Demetrius looked down at me as I lay in an unmoving pile at his feet. His forked tongue slithered out at me, flicking over his serpentine lips.

I knew better than to move even in cower so I stared blankly back at him. Not allowing myself to even blink as he watched me. It wouldn't take much to set this beast off, and then I would be dead. He had to do much more than just kill me though. He had to drink from me.

Through the railing, I could have seen their leader clearly, though my eyes remained on Demetrius as long as he watched me in turn. The footsteps in the room below were soft, yet still crunched against the broken glass.

Demetrius' lips spread wider in a way meant to appear as some wretched smile. I couldn't defeat him. If I persuaded him to drink from me, it would be my final act.

How much was left in me? What was left that I could do for Damien? I was torn between a stubborn instinct to survive, yet desperate for the pain to end.

Damien was all I could think of despite my pain. Could I let go of him to save him? My mind couldn't force my body to comply and lift my arm so that Demetrius would drink from me. Maybe I was succumbing to death already. I could no longer comply to the will of my own mind.

Demetrius wasn't planning to wait much longer for an invitation anyway. His eyes were glowing a brilliant red. Slowly but surely, he was leaning down to me. The smell of so much blood was simply too great for any such beast to resist.

My eyes finally closed with silent defeat. Let it be quick was all I could hope for. I expected to feel Demetrius tear into my flesh. However, the pain I expected never came. The chaotic sounds from downstairs forced my eyes to open, and crane my neck to look.

The door exploded from the hinges, the sound echoing in my head like a bomb had gone off.

Damien.

I could feel him with an entirely new sense I hadn't known before that moment. The smell of death was in the air. Rotten death. Beckett was dead. Somehow, this knowledge was as certain to me as my pending demise. My lips curled into a twisted, painful smile. As they say, another one bites the dust.

However, Damien's arrival meant only one thing now. There were only seconds left if that before Demetrius was going to rip my throat out. "Liahm!" Damien's rough angry voice bellowed through the house so loud it echoed like a cave.

Captain Chaos, otherwise known as Liahm apparently, sat leisurely on the couch. "Careful now, Damien. You should really watch your tone. Demetrius is easy to set off in his new body. You know how painful dragon venom is. You wouldn't want anything else to happen to your precious pet now, would you?" He stood slowly, advancing like a lynx.

A dance ensued between the two of them as they began to circle one another. "If you've laid one hand on her, I will skin you alive, and pull every bone from your body until you are dead, Faye." It wasn't a threat. Damien's voice was cold as ice, and calm as death itself.

"I do highly doubt that, but not to worry, she's still alive. Barely. She's a spunky little thing you know. So tasty, too. However, I'm not a Faye, Damien. Not any more. I am much more than that now. Don't you agree?"

Liahm had expected Damien to become furious from this information, and to act irrationally. Pity for Liahm that Damien wasn't a fool. He knew if Liahm had drank my blood then the blood stone had infected him. As if on cue, Liahm faltered in step, staggering so badly he nearly fell over himself. "Who turned you? The Faye doesn't usually consort with Vampires. Though I will admit, using Faye magic to force me to leave was quite effective. And before, with Lianna- was that you as well?"

Damien stopped circling him. Liahm was in such a tipsy that Damien simply had to sway side to side to throw him off more.

With fire in his voice, Liahm shot back at Damien, "You idiot! You should know who turned me! You should be grateful when Demetrius rips her to shreds. Your human scum would suffer an agony of eternity because of you. Nekayla comes for you all!"

Demetrius watched the two, standing silent, and unmoving. His full focus was on Liahm and Damien. As he primed for a fight, his talons curled in. If there was any chance at all, I had to act now.

With every ounce of strength left in my body, I made my move, thrusting my weight forward to roll down the stairs. My broken jaw clinched tight from the pain, trying to keep from screaming. There wasn't much else I could do, though I knew it wasn't enough. Any action at all on my part would result in Demetrius reacting.

Demetrius came down on top of me in a second's time. His body was like a cast iron cage. As his knee landed on my hip, I could feel it dislocate.

This was the third time in less than a week I had some form of a man pinning me down with ill plans in store for me. That seemingly strange fact made me angry.

At the same time, Damien had gone after Liahm. Their battle sounded as if a tornado had been unleashed in the house.

Demetrius had been aching for my blood since it first spilt. His massive hand clutched to my left forearm, jerking it to his mouth. Black dagger like fangs gleamed in the dark as his tongue snaked out against my flesh, dragging the length of my arm as he pulled me tight against him. Clutching my arm to his mouth with both hands, Demetrius jerked me against him just as his teeth tore into my arm. His fangs were so long they dug into the bone. It was too much for me to scream. A broken groan cried from my lips.

The only thing that mattered was Demetrius was drinking my blood. He would weaken quickly, and Damien would be safe from this monster. Drink up, you bastard.

Even when the body has been tortured beyond repair, the instinct of the mind is ultimately survival. Fight or flight, but at all costs survive. Even a man who attempts to commit suicide after slicing his wrist will always grab a towel to stop the bleeding or pull the skin tight to lessen the wound. The instinct of the subconscious will always override the conscious decision of the mind.

Amazingly, my body did fight as he pinned me. I could feel a large piece of glass jetting out of my thigh from being thrown to the floor amongst the broken glass of the window. My hand wrapped around it so tightly it cut into my palm.

Twisting my free arm, my hand reached up between us. With the last of my strength, I forced the glass up into his neck under his chin straight into his jaw. As impossible as it seemed, the glass cut straight through the scales, jutting up into the roof of his mouth.

Demetrius' bite released. As he reared back, I saw the glass sticking out from the bottom of his chin, dug up into the roof of his mouth.

Blood poured from his jaws- his blood, and mine alike. My eyes closed as I allowed myself to finally succumb to death. I don't know how much blood he took, but it was enough.

It didn't feel right though. Not the agony of my broken bleeding body. Something far worse. Acid. Acid and fire.

A voice whispered through my mind. It was Liahm, and a memory of something he told Damien. Dragon venom. Is that what this was? Never had I felt a burning such as this. It tore through my veins. My back arched until I thought it would snap. The seizing would cause me to tumble the rest of the way down the staircase. Landing with a thud, I heaved, gagging for air.

As I lay there, I felt someone grab a hold of me. My body so battered I couldn't fight. If it were Demetrius again, I was dead. If it stopped the burning, I didn't care.

He held tight. Painfully tight, but what difference did that make now? I heard whispering though I knew from the tone he was yelling. Damien screamed my name though I couldn't hear. My eardrums were flooded with the roaring sound of my death.

There was no white light calling me. No flash back of my life. Not that I would have wanted one.

Damien's voice was in an uproar of panic driven fury. Carrying me up the stairs, he dropped me onto his bed as he ripped the larger pieces of glass out of my body, causing my voice to find me in sharp gasps. I could feel my soul slipping away. Begging for it to end yet it just wouldn't let go.

All the air had been sucked out of my chest. Gasping hard, my chest came up off the bed as I writhed in pain as the fire reached my heart. I screamed like a screeching banshee. Not all fires burn to kill.

As I dug my fingers into the bed, the fabric gave away under my nails. The threads popped as I ripped through the thick comforter that was becoming drenched in my blood as the seconds went by.

My body began to shake violently. I could feel his weight climb on top of me in attempt to hold me down. His hand held my broken jaw as I choked, drowning in my own blood. The only pain I could feel was the burning now. The broken bones didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. Not even his cold skin crushing my torso could ease this agonizing torture.

Lava flowed through my veins, singeing away at every cell of my body. It seemed to be pouring from my heart like an angry volcano. The fire would rip through my veins until I turned to ash.

Cold liquid filled my mouth suddenly causing me to choke. "Drink, Anna! Drink it!" Damien continued to yell at me. I groaned as the cold liquid drizzled down my throat.

His body crushed against me, pinning me to the bed. His face buried into my arm sucking against the burning flesh of the gaping bite. Darkness was taking me into it. With every pull on my arm, the release of death tugged at my heart, promising peace. My body grew still.

Don't ask me what happens when you die. It's impossible to put into words. It's different for everyone. Especially those who are not meant to die.

Cold liquid poured down my throat on its own accord. Even as it dribbled down into my lungs, I didn't choke. The dead can't drown.

Whispers filled my ears. A thousand far away voices all talking around me in hushed languages. The words all foreign, and just quiet enough I couldn't make them out. A thin part of my subconscious yearned to know.

Damien cradled me in his lap. My bitten arm was held against his mouth as he sucked the venom out of my nearly drained body.

The flesh around the gaping wound already dark grey where the venom had spread. Every few seconds, he would turn, spitting the venom out, gagging on the poisons before he would return to my arm. Despite that my body was nearly emptied of all its blood, he continued. I had been contaminated. He was trying to cleanse my vessel of the poison.

Unable to move, unable to speak or react in any way, I lay there. My body succumbed to death, though my soul lingered.

Watching on in wait remained a ghost not ready to let go of her corpse. A ghost not ready to let go of a life that she was just learning to want. A soul just discovering who it was.

Liquid poured into her mouth, down her throat yet again. Now, one could see where it was coming from. Damien bit hard into his wrist, pulling the skin back, forcing her mouth to open and drink straight from his veins. Carefully, he held her head back, forcing the dead girl to take his blood. He'd given the body too much. He was too weak to give so much.

Even the eternally dead can't communicate with the spirit world.

Furious for he knew he was failing, he laid her to the floor, carefully. Standing, he turned away from her, pacing back and forth. Coming up to the wall, his fist reared back, and flew forward with all of his strength. Plaster bellowed out a cloud of dust instantly. The wooden studs snapped on impact, the stone of the outer wall nearly exploded. Daylight seeped in. "You'll give her back to me!" He swung again with the same result before he returned to her side, all but collapsing. "Anna, please... Don't let go."

A ghost. Forgetting quickly. I wasn't supposed to forget. Or was I not supposed to remember? No. Too soon. Not yet.

Don't leave me, Damien. I'm right here!

He heard nothing.

Damien was now so weakened from the blood loss, and poisons, his body trembled severely. His skin, usually pale was now so placid it had become translucent.

Her blood was tainted from the blood stone, and now the dragon's venom. In his attempt to save this corpse, he was poisoning himself.

Though not just a corpse. She was me.

As if he knew I could hear him, he spoke to me softly now as if I were only laying there resting, "I know you can hear me, Anna. You haven't left me yet. I know that you just don't want to suffer any more, but I need you. I can't let you go. I love you, Lianna... You have to wake up. Please wake up, sweetheart." Taking my hand gently, he brought my fingers to his lips kissing gently, yet fiercely. Laying my hand down carefully at my side, he bit his wrist once more before bringing it to my mouth, forcing me to drink.

I felt a tug. It was as if I was being pulled away. Again I was forgetting.

What happened to that girl? So much pain. Her body radiated with pain. Agonizing grief. No. Not her. She had lost her pain.

It was from the man with her. A man, but barely more than a boy. Reduced to such from his grief. She, like his heart, was being ripped away from him. He deserved more. He shouldn't lose so much.

Gently, he removed any glass left in the many cuts of the body so that if she came back her body would not heal around them. His fingers lightly ran over the deep gash on her chest. Teeth marks. His body burned with anger for what they'd done to her.

The girl's body was unable to move or react. No matter what he did. No matter how long he spoke to her. Yet he never did stop. He asked her to stay with him, and told her if she stayed, her wounds would heal. That he'd take care of her, and that he loved her. It was heartbreaking to watch.

Stuck in a strange state of suspension, we waited. The many voices were hushed though they were not gone. I felt them watching. Waiting. His blood had coursed its way through the body, working its way through her veins. Absorbing into dead muscles and tissue slowly, amazingly repairing them. Even the bones were mending, just as the cuts of her body.

A ghost lay beside a girl. A vessel. Slowly ethereal fingers reached for the hand of the dead. White fingers placid in death. It wasn't touch. They merged.

His inhuman, Vampiric blood was healing my body, fiber by fiber, cell by cell, muscle was rebuilding muscle. Bones that had been broken and damaged were mended. Age old wounds and scars were regenerated, made better than new. Every flawed, imperfect, damaged, broken atom of my very makeup was being rebuilt in a most unfathomable way, a more durable way, a perfectly inhuman way.

The source of the voices lingered, observing. Dead languages and new ones alike filled me completely.

This process didn't last forever of course. However, I did come to find that it did last for a very... very long time. Coming back from the dead is always a slow process though. Isn't it?

With time, my body healed as his blood revived me. Despite how sickly Damien was, this seemed to bring him a spark of hope.

There was no time in this hell. The blood caused violent pain as my mortal cells died and new cells replaced them so rapidly that my back would arch off the bed in sharp spasms. As if a series of terrible seizures had taken over, my body twisted, and turned. Bones gave way to something stronger that consumed them, remaking them. Muscle hardened as it mended.

Everything ends though. Even death so it seems. I lost awareness of my surroundings for a long time during this period.

Gasping hard, I shot straight up. My breathing was ragged, and heavy. My vision was so blurred it was as if opening my eyes for the very first time.

Everything was so different. Painfully acute, and sensitive. Even the smells were more potent. I could taste every molecule in the air. The sounds weren't only a deafening roar but heightened. I could hear animation in a world that was once mute and lifeless before.

My skin felt as if it were tingling with sensitivity though the physical pain had ended. As my eyes began to adjust, I saw there was no false light in the room. Only what sun had broken through the windows.

It, too, seemed different. Gleaming with glittery golds, some brilliantly bright others warm, and rich. All of them mingled together. The color seemed so abnormal. Perhaps I was dreaming.

The universe was truly alive for the first time.

Everything was a part of everything. Color had taste. Sounds had smell, and every other combination of my senses exploded with a new, astounding acuity.

Hands took a firm grasp on my arms from behind me, tightly holding me against him. I ripped away from him, spinning on my heel.

"Anna?" My hand instinctively shot up, locking my fingers around his jugular. A hideous snarl ripped through the room before I realized its origin was my lips.

Damien's hand carefully took a hold of my wrist, pinning it down to my side. My mind had room for just one thought. Fight. Fight to survive.

My struggling was to no avail. In a second, Damien had entrapped me. His large frame formed like a cage over top of my body so gentle, but I knew unmovable. "Stop," his tone wasn't the type you argued with.

As my mind registered his familiar voice, and strength, I gasped again in my own horror. "Damien!" a fearful whisper. As he released my wrist, I lunged for him.

Wrapping my arms around him, I clung to him for dear life. My head buried into his neck as he pulled back. Sitting up, bringing me with him, arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me against him as if he were afraid to let go.

Our lips found one another's aggressively. We clung to one another like that, desperately though completely unmoving. The center of my chest was heavier, cool, and somehow different. It was then I comprehended I had stopped breathing. Yet my lungs were not aching for oxygen.

My chest felt so different because my heart wasn't beating. Not that I had ever been able to really feel my heart beating, however now, I could definitely tell it was not.

Not that I had wanted to, but I parted from him slowly. Though not fully. Gradually, my lungs filled. I knew this because my chest rose up with each breath, and I tasted the air as I inhaled. Yet there was no satisfying relief. As if I didn't need it.

Responding to my unspoken thoughts, "You only need to breathe to speak." Damien's hand came up, fingers brushing my lips.

"I know it's a bit strange. Just hang in there, all right?" Those perfect hands cupped my cheeks, guiding my chin so that I would look up at him. Damien's lips had curled into a slight smile that could only be described as a smirk. I loved that smirk.

The only way to describe his expression was amazement. My head was spinning. Though it was terribly difficult to focus, I forced myself to try. My hands placed around his wrists tightly for the security of knowing it was him touching me. "Why do you look so surprised to see me, Damien?"

His eyes sparkled. "I thought you left me." His fingers brushed my cheeks, palms never releasing me. His forehead pressed to mine.

"Now why on earth would I ever leave you when I've only just found you?" he smiled at my whispered words.

"Damien, what's going on? What's happening?" mumbling out in a low rumble, my throat tickled in a strange manor. My voice sounded different or perhaps it was my ears. I couldn't tell. The confusion was overwhelming.

"Well-" Damien started to say.

The sounds of the forest filled my head like a million drums set to an ear splitting volume. Like a nature CD turned to max power in one of those sound rooms.

"Why is it so loud?" my words came out in an angry hiss deafening to my ears. Frantically, I looked around me. We sat on a hard wooden floor in an otherwise completely empty room. No furniture, not even a bed. At some point, he had moved me. Maybe he destroyed the other room. A memory scratched at the back of my mind insinuating such possibility.

Damien's arms embraced me tight against his chest. His voice filled with heartache, "You'll be okay. Just try to tune it out. Just focus on me. You have to focus, Anna. It will get better, easier. I know it's loud, but those sounds get softer, I promise." A hand wove into my matted hair.

Nodding softly, I felt like a small child. A child just born into the world, and distracted by everything. "Anna, can you listen to me?" his voice was soft, yet demanding. Dire.

Nodding, I stared up into his pitch black eyes. The whites so contrasting it was almost shocking. Mentally putting us into our own world, I tried to block out everything else. "You died, Anna, though not in the way you think. It was just your body."

Time slipped away from me. Memories flashed in a blur. A haze of snapshots that I vaguely recalled. A storm, oil pastels, warm embers burning in a fire place, broken glass, a dandy. No. A vampire? Maybe. Dark flesh on top of me. A Dragon? Pictures of fairy tale dragons fluttered through my thoughts. Pain. So much pain.

"You're a Vampire. Do you understand?" His hand brushed my cheek, tangling into my hair with the other. A black fire burned in his eyes. His lips were white and dry. For a long time they entranced me.

It was as if looking at them made me almost remember something. It was important, but I couldn't focus enough to think exactly what I was supposed to remember.

The spinning in my head made everything wobbly. I stared at him as if he had told me the world actually exploded, and we were on the moon.

"I died." My hand cupped over my throat. It felt strange to speak. The words didn't sound like my own. The key was off. It barely sounded like my own voice at all, "I died slowly. I remember the pain. I'm dead now."

A flash of a memory. I saw myself lying with Damien. Him holding me, feeding me his blood.

"Not quite. Your human life is over, yes. You turned, Anna. You're a Vampire now. Demetrius-" he sounded furious with that one word. Damien carefully pulled my hands into his own. His eyes sought my full attention.

"Demetrius bit you," his voice rippled, a throttling snarl rumbled through his chest. He pulled me into his lap slowly. My hands ran across my arm where I knew the skin should be torn, although it wasn't. I was whole. My fingertips brushed my jaw. I thought it should hurt, yet it didn't.

"He bit you. For the time it had kept you alive. You would have died before I could get to you if not for the venom. It's very complicated. I will explain it to you thoroughly. I promise. However, now is not the time, Lianna." Damien looked ashamed as his fingers stroked my cheek so tenderly. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. He watched me as if I wasn't real.

Damien was hiding something from me, but I didn't have the energy now to find out what that might be. As he spoke, the memories were flooding back. I fought to keep my sanity. What little I had. I mumbled, "You saved me. Thank you. I owe my entire existence to you."

Something felt wrong with me. Like hunger though much worse. Wild, and angry starvation. The feeling shook my entire body to its core. Achingly, I fought the trembling until I could control the feeling ripping through my veins. My body felt as if it may explode.

"Fight it. The hunger will take you over if you let it." The feeling that surged through my body was like an electric current. It was insanity. "I know it's difficult. It's like having a demon inside of you, gnawing at your sanity, begging you to let him take over."

Yes, that was exactly how it felt. That demon was promising power, it promised relief. It would be so easy to just let go...

"Don't." His thumb stroked my cheek before brushing my lips, holding there. "You're going to have to fight it, Anna. Yes. I brought you back. I saved you, and I cursed you."

Damien's voice brought me back to focus as I looked up to him with wide lost eyes, "We have to get you blood, Anna. I made a call last night. It's not much."

"Blood?" I sounded uncertain. Sure, I understood that he had told me I was a Vampire. But still, did I really want to drink human blood?

"It's not human."

As I thought on this, my mouth became dry. My tongue flicked against dry lips over my teeth, which were much longer than I recalled. Four fangs. Just like Damien's. Two on top, two smaller ones on bottom. "Okay." Desperate for relief, I finally nodded.

"I'll be right back." He started to stand when my hand grabbed his wrist, clutching him to me. I wasn't ready to be alone.

"Anna, I will move so fast you won't even realize I'm gone. I promise, sweetheart." He smiled weakly before sobering again. "You have to drink though. All right?" Carefully, he pried my fingers off his arm before kissing each of them. The next second he was gone.

It wasn't like I would normally ever have been so needy. However, this situation wasn't exactly ordinary either.

My gaze darted around the room, following dust motes as if they may turn into monsters. The panic surged through me so intensely I nearly screamed as he flew back into the room, startling me.

"It's all right," Damien's voice was soft, albeit a bit amused as he sat back beside me. He carried a small foam cooler.

"Where are we?" I whispered simply because I didn't like how strange my voice sounded.

"We're still at the house in Vermont. This is just another room of the house. I didn't think you should see the bedroom when you first came to," he answered stiffly while opening the cooler to pull out a large plastic container filled with a dark thick liquid. "Sorry, but it's cold."

My eyes went wide as it became my only focus. As my mouth watered, I realized my body knew how badly I needed, and truly wanted what was in that cup, even if my mind wanted to deny it. Popping the lid off, he held it up to my lips.

Ravenously, I drank it down in mere seconds. My body screamed for more. Instantly he handed me another, took the empty one, tossing it back into the cooler. I drank the second one down with just as much greed. Holding it up to get every last drop. One drip ran from the corner of my mouth.

Reaching a hand out, his thumb wiped it up, back to my lips. My eyes closed as I suckled softly on his thumb.

The flavor was overwhelming. It wasn't at all as disgusting as I thought it would be. In fact it was the most perfect thing I had ever tasted in my life. It was power. This was a charge of life. It brought my senses to a new focus. Made me feel free. Animalistic even.

Damien stared at me with a smile slowly creeping into his lips. "You're stronger than I thought you would be."

He took the second empty one, handing me another. "I'm sorry this is the last one. My contact couldn't get much on such short notice." I could almost hear how that conversation went. Damien could be quite frightening when he wanted to be.

Pulling back, I shook my head no. It took every ounce of will power to turn it down though.

"What's wrong? I know it doesn't taste very good but it will have to do for now. Come on now, drink up." He held the container out to me persistently. All I could do was shake my head no.

I swallowed on a burning dry throat, forcing myself to answer him. "You need it," I managed to whisper while clinching my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

His lips parted to a weak chuckle. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine."

I shook my head, my brow arched as I stared at him warily. "Don't lie. You're not fine. I saw you. You're sick."

His brow furrowed as he looked at me questioningly. "What do you mean, you saw me?"

"In your room, on the bed. You drank from me... You drank from me and it made you sick from the blood stone, and the venom. You're still sick. Now drink it." I pushed his hand away from me, which still held the clear container filled with rich crimson. Honestly, I was rather proud of my self-control.

With a sigh, he accepted defeat, quickly guzzling down the cup with a sneer. It was obvious he didn't care for it as I did. I guess after a few decades you acquire a finer taste than old butcher blood.

Once he was finished, his hand brushed my cheek, leaning to me. Hesitant as his eyes focused on mine, his lips brushed mine.

A whole new thrill of emotion took me over. In seconds, my arms were around him, and I was nearly pushing him over as I climbed into his lap kissing him back aggressively.

He groaned as his hands found my hips, pulling me into him. It didn't last nearly as long as I wanted it to though. In moments he was easily prying me off him, sliding out from under me. "You torture me, sweets," he said in a huff as he collected himself.

Shrugging helplessly, I looked down away from him. "Sorry." His hands found my cheeks once more as he kissed lightly onto my lips. Before I could get carried away, he pointedly pulled away.

"Never be sorry for any kiss like that. We need to get you cleaned up though. We need to be leaving as soon as possible." His lips brushed mine again before he quickly pulled back.

Damien drew me into his embrace, standing with me, setting me to my feet. My legs trembled, and nearly gave. They felt like jelly fish legs.

With a small faint version of his old smirk, he swept my legs out from under me. Then his sobriety switch. "Do me a favor? Close your eyes for just a moment." Looking to him doubtfully, he forced a rueful smile. "Just trust me."

Clinching my eyes shut tightly, I locked my arms around his neck. He carried me a brief way reminding me again to keep my eyes closed as a strange smell wafted through the air. Blood. It smelled far too good so I clung to him even tighter, burying my face against his chest.

In another second, we were in the upstairs bathroom. He carried me to the counter, setting me down onto it.

Curling myself into a tight ball on the marble top, I watched him turn only the hot water on. Steam quickly filled the room.

There was too much to take in. I couldn't focus on any one thing. The steam looked so different now. I could see every individual molecule of water.

They all grouped together making beautiful swirling patterns dancing through the room. My tongue flicked out from my lips. I could taste them all. It didn't taste the same way I remembered water tasting. My tongue flicked with distaste. It was grotesquely sweet.

When Damien turned around, he saw me with my neck craned out forward, my tongue stretching out as far as it could. He laughed of course though it seemed weak, tired really. Even the way he moved seemed less fluid than I was used to.

"Damien?" My mouth parted to continue although nothing came out. Glancing up at me briefly, Damien turned away just as quick. He wasn't going to answer my unspoken revelation. He was very ill, and it was my fault.

Every inch of the bathroom was tiled with beautiful stone. More beautiful than anything I had ever seen, intricate, and alive. The pores of the granite seemed to devour the moisture, making it swell as the color become that much richer than before.

He smiled as he came back to me. Damien's hands rubbed along my arms as if he needed to keep me warm. I wasn't cold just very uneasy with my new self. He knew though. Damien leaned forward, softly kissing my forehead. "How are you feeling?" I nodded some, not sure what response he wanted. "Good. We need to get the blood off you." I nodded again looking down at my blood stained hands.

Well, anywhere I looked was covered to be honest. This must be what Carrie looked like after prom.

His hands took to my hips lifting me up for a kiss before setting me to my feet. Without a smirk or hint of modesty, my hands took up the bottom hem of my tank top, dragging it up to hook my running bra, and peel them off together. His brow arched high as I slid my thumb into the top bit of fabric of my shorts, sliding them down. That was it for my clothing. Without a word or even glancing back at him, I walked into the shower.

"You're positively horrible for my self-control," he grumbled with a slight chuckle.

Holding back the grin for all that I was worth, I turned to look at Damien. "Well, aren't you coming?" His expression of pure bewilderment was enough to make anyone laugh. I didn't. I couldn't hold back the smirk any longer as I slid under the water, running my hands up through my hair.

He muttered under his breath as he followed after me. I looked down at his jeans with a smirk, shaking my head. "Trust me when I say it's for the best." He chuckled as his hands slid up and down my arms.

"Your best or my own?" I let the water rain down on me as I closed my eyes, lifting my chin.

"Neither. Only for the best due to the time, and lack thereof." Without further comment on the matter, he took up a familiar bottle of cherry blossom body wash. He'd brought some of my things up. Thoughtful.

Pouring a dollop of gel into his palm, his arms slid around behind me, washing my back slowly. "I have blood on my back as well?"

With a heavy sigh he paused a moment. "You have blood everywhere, Lianna." We didn't speak again as my fingers worked through my hair, using the gel to wash out the blood.

Damien washed the dried blood away from my body carefully. It turned the water pink as it ran down the drain. There was so much of it. He even made sure he got the blood out from under my nails. He was incredibly tender with every touch.

His eyes never lingered inappropriately. Though nor did his eyes lock with mine. His fingers in my hair ran down over my slick flesh making my entire body tingle.

Damien swept me off my feet and up to his chest, tight against him. Carrying me out into the bedroom, we dripped every step of the way. It would have been patronizing if I didn't have a great urge to attack him in a most primal way. The way he stared back at me, I could only hope he felt the same. I couldn't tell.

The urge didn't last long enough. There in the middle of the room, soaked in the blood of my death, was the bed. That image would forever be imprinted in my mind.

Staring entranced, my head tilted to the side. How does one process their own death? He stood me to my feet. The brush of his lips crossed the hollow of my neck before he vanished from my side.

Within a few moments, Damien handed me a set of my clothes he had waiting on a chair. Slowly, I stepped into a black cotton thong, and then slipped the straps of a black bra up my shoulders. I was startled when Damien materialized behind me to clasp it. Brushing my hair back from my neck, his lips pressed against the nape firmly. His lips drug around to the soft flesh under my ear. More than just his hips pressed firmly into my backside. "Do you still doubt my want for you?" He chuckled as I shivered when his tongue flicked my flesh. "No? Good. Don't ever doubt that again." He nipped softly before pulling away.

I redressed in a daze into a worn pair of jeans, torn in all the right places, and plain dark green tank top. Olive drab. Love it.

Damien quickly moved to his closet. Seconds later, he came out in a pair of his designer jeans, hung low on his hips with an open black button up long sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Some things don't change. Some things shouldn't.

Staring at his chest, my lips parted slightly. He smirked. Embarrassed, I turned away, and then lost all touch with reality. Unable to move, unable to speak, I became completely detached. Frozen.

He stepped in front of me, pulling my vision away from the blood once more. "Anna, don't do that to yourself. I know this is hard, but I can't lose you right now. I need you to focus on me, okay. Just me and nothing else. This will get easier. I promise."

With a tight nod, I looked away from him, and the bed both, to stare down at my feet. "Why do I feel so funny?" at a loss for coherent words, I mumbled as I slid on my old pair of leather flip-flops.

"Hunger?" I shook my head no.

"Like I'm spinning, but not me. The whole room. But it's not. I'm not." Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of the insanity. I sounded like a loon, and felt like one as well.

Damien chuckled slightly. "That will pass very soon, don't worry. Basically, you're feeling the rotation of the earth. You're very sensitive right now. It doesn't really go away completely. You just quit noticing so much I suppose."

Damien's shoulders shook just slightly as he contained his laughter. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, then each cheek before finally finding his way to my lips. Before he pulled away, he kissed lightly onto my neck over the place he'd bitten me once.

He kept me very close as he guided me out of the room. Damien tensed, stopping at the door. "If I carry you, will you promise to keep your eyes shut?"

Did he really think so little of me? "I'm fine. Really, I can handle it." He smiled as he found my hand, squeezing it softly. Damien led me down the stairs. My eyes were wide, but I tried to hide the shock as I replayed the night in my head as if I was watching a movie.

No one survives that. Blood had been thrown from one end of the room, all the way up the stairs, and I knew the bed had been saturated. The smell of course told me that most of it was mine.

With each step, I walked through pools of thick dry blood. It was sticky. The sickest part was that it smelled good. Too good. My body was trembling.

New Blood is the term used for a new Vampire. New Blood or not, I still couldn't imagine myself sucking on the carpet. No matter how it smelled. "It's okay. Just stay calm." He did his best to sooth me.

I did my best not to lose my temper.

"Damien, don't be patronizing. I'm not sucking the carpets clean yet." Grinning, he shrugged his shoulders as if to say he couldn't help it.

We made it to the bottom of the staircase when I saw Liahm. My body froze, tensing in a silent panic.

Images of Liahm torturing me came flooding back so fast it took a moment to realize it was only a memory. I could feel his teeth tear through my breast across my chest.

But now, now he was just strung about pieces of rotting Liahm. A whispered regret told me that it should have been me to do this to him. I would have enjoyed it. A lot.

Damien tugged my hand, pulling me out the door. The sun didn't kill me as he had promised. However, it was as if I had been in the dark for a million years, and then decided to look directly into the sun. It felt warmer than I was used to.

Rushing ahead of me, Damien opened the passenger door to the Jeep. One arm lifting me, he nearly threw me in. The windows were so darkly tinted from the outside a human couldn't see in at all. Relief washed over me like a drug. I kicked my shoes off and tossed them out the door before he shut it. I didn't need the smell with me trapped in the Jeep. He shut the door and in the next moment was in the driver seat.

"Wait, my book!" My hand came up to open the door when he stopped me.

"Your bag, as well as everything else, including the sketchbook are in the back seat. Body wash can be replaced." As Damien drove, I twisted around, and grabbed the book from the back. He drove like a bat out of a hell down a path too overgrown to possibly be a road. Now it didn't bother me at all.

I curled up in the seat with my legs crossed butterfly, flipping through the book to the second to last page with an image. The art was done in black oil pastel.

A fallen angel viewed from behind. Mercy. Blood had soaked the paper from the page beneath this one. I flipped to the next.

It had been heavily stained in blood. My blood. The hand. Cut. Black blood drops and all could still be seen clearly despite the massive smear. Hm, the irony I thought.

I think this is a good time to step back, and look over some things. Many of the memories in my time of humanity are like a haze. Thinking of them now is like watching everything through a fog. It's difficult to explain some things. The details that is. My existence from after I turned of course is much clearer.

If I were to describe a leaf to you now, know I would be able to tell you the exact shade in astounding detail. I would be able to include things such as its geometric measurements in size, and shape. I could count every pore, and every vein running from the stem through the body. All of this from simply driving by.

In my years of humanity, I may be able to tell you the leaf was green. That was only because I knew they were supposed to be. The difference is to explain living in a black and white world, then suddenly living in High Definition Technicolor. Bet you didn't know there are really sixteen colors in a rainbow.

This was the story of my death, and my birth into a new life. This was my demise. I was reborn into a new world. A new life. A world that is as dark as it is mystical.

My own personal land of illusion. A land where the statues of the Gods walk the earth in all of their glory. Now I am one of them. With skin like living marble, and eyes that shone like the stars in the dead of night. Sculpted and beautiful in ways I never would have imagined.

Now I see the world through new eyes. An entirely different world. Not just changed. No, not changed at all. For it has always been this way. It is I that has changed. Now I can see the world for what it truly is.

This is my gift from my dark angel. My prince of darkness. My draconian devil. I will forever be mesmerized by the intensity that I had been missing. My years trapped in mortality. The beauty. The chaotic. The impossible. The magic. The Immortal...

"I don't feel real," my voice was no louder than a whisper, although to me it sounded as if I was yelling.

"It's a bit strange I imagine. I don't remember turning. I don't remember anything before turning. I just remember suddenly existing. Then the blood." He didn't look at me as he drove though I watched him expectantly. I wanted more. More everything. More knowledge. More of his voice. More sanity. More blood.

"Before I knew what I was, I existed like a parasite. Crazed by the voices of others, and obsessed with blood. Only the beat of their hearts as I drank would drown out their voices. I enjoyed the monster I was, relishing in death. It was years before I became anything other. Years before I found enough self-control to exist among others of my kind let alone the human race."

"Are you telling me this because you know I'll be the same way?"

"No. I'm telling you this because I won't let you be that way." He shook his head. His eyes never once glanced in my direction. "It doesn't have to be that way for you." There's something to be said about a man who tries to reassure himself so strongly. Something that says he isn't so certain.

The silence that lingered between us was palpable after that. Knowing that dwelling on such a possibility could do little to affect my future either way I began to think of something else. A question I'd had since before I turned. A question I was too afraid to ask at the time. Now it seemed that there was no longer a choice. Without a doubt, I needed to know.

"Before I turned, in the apartment after Paul attacked me, you said that my blood had keyed me into you. It didn't allow you to hear my thoughts better, but that you had connected with me in other ways." I needed a moment to think of the best way to phrase this. His eyes cast in my direction, however he said nothing. "That sort of thing happens no matter who you feed from? Or was there a specific reason it keyed you into me aside from you drinking my blood?"

"It happens no matter who you feed from." His jaw clinched tightly as he waited for me to respond.

"That doesn't seem like a good thing to me, for most situations at least."

His mouth tightened into a hard thin line as he thought on how to respond. "It isn't. However, it only happens when you feed directly from the person. If you had cut your hand, and poured it into a cup instead that would not have happened. Drinking from blood bags is the easiest way to not have to worry about it. I think it has something to do with the blood hitting so much oxygen, but that's just my guess. I don't know how or why it works." He sighed heavily letting out a deep gust of breath. "You're quite right though. In most situations, either option is undesirable for the Vampire. The connection is the reason Vampire's generally kill when we feed. Although throughout our history, there have been Vampires known to keep human companions for extended periods of time. It's rare though."

"Yes, uh huh. - Yes. I'm bringing her now. - Lara couldn't have known." Damien's lips pressed to a hard line. His brow furrowed. "Very. Yes, I as well. - Thank you, Jezabell. - We'll be all right, no need for all of that now. - Indeed. We'll see you soon. - Until then." The phone call had been brief.

"Who was that?" We hadn't spoken to one another in hours now. I'd sat with my knees against my chest still as stone watching the images pass by my window like a movie. Transfixed on the world around me as if seeing it all for the first time.

"My sister," Damien's voice was detached again.

"I guess they get to meet me after all now, huh?" All he did was nod. Not angry, though he still didn't seem happy.

I could see clearly he was little better. His skin was drab. Translucent. Placid. Eyes of ebony. Lips paper white, and dry. His veins clearly visible were grey from venom.

"How long can you go without blood usually?" The answer wasn't something I was likely going to want to hear.

"Myself? Usually a very long time. Weeks. However, I feed a little every few days generally. It keeps us strong in a great many ways. My family keeps both animal and human blood on hand that they drink regularly." He shrugged. His shoulders seemed tense. The gesture was stiff.

"What about me? Will I be able to go a few weeks without it?" I turned to face him.

Damien shook his head slightly. "No. Not for a while at least. You'll probably need to feed every few days if not more often for quite some time. The transition wasn't a very smooth one. You'll need more blood to recover."

"So not everyone dies like that? As I did?" His body grew stiff at my question though he said nothing. Acting as if he didn't hear me despite that I knew he had.

In the next moment, I learned the drastic grasp my emotions had on my stability. Emotional was putting it mildly. My temper flared. I had never liked being ignored, but now suddenly I wanted to scream. In silent response my nails dug into my legs.

My mind was racing. I was already hungry again. Hungry, forever hungry. Every emotion led to one place- hunger. Excitement? Hunger. Joy? Hunger. Anger? Extreme hunger. Anxiety?

Breathing in deeply the humid air through the window, I could smell it. Blood.

An animal near the road. As the smell seemed to electrify, and stimulate every cell in my body, I became perfectly still. My senses on high alert, soon I could hear the sound of the animal's heart. It was large.

Yes. A deer. The heavy beating heart of a deer as its blood pumped through his arteries like divine wine tempting me with its splendor.

"Anna?" Fire had spread through my veins, the pain just as real as any flame. "Anna, talk to me. You have to push through it. Fight it off." A soft whine fell from my lips as my body seemed to turn to stone, each limb too heavy to move.

"I know this is hard, but it does no good for anybody if you lose control."

Suddenly we pulled off the road down a smaller path that was overgrown, and looked as if it didn't really lead anywhere.

A soft sigh fell from his lips. He leaned closer to me, giving me a long kiss on my cheek. His fingers gently stroked through my hair, which was already dry. "I'm sorry, Lianna. Truly. I'll be back in just a moment. Please stay in the Jeep, okay?"

Forcing a curt nod, my fingers dug into my legs brutally as I stared out the window. Damien's face was set into a deep frown as he twisted his body around, digging through some scattered things on the floor of the Jeep in the back seat.

Men. Are all their vehicles cluttered?

He came up with a metal thermos. I guess he wasn't ready to watch me rip apart an animal in his Jeep. Within a second, the door slammed shut. I was alone. It was only a few minutes that I had been left alone, but the insanity was overwhelming even for just that long.

Having not budged, my fingernails were digging hard into my calves. Cutting through the jeans, piercing the flesh. Fighting as hard as I could to control myself, I was still trembling.

Despite that I was locked in the Jeep, I could hear everything. The hunt. The kill. The heart slowing to a stop, thudding into silence.

The smell was overwhelming. His scent was musky. The blood. So fragrant I could taste it. Sweet and salty all at once, more ambrosias than I could ever describe in words alone. Insanity was my world as I fought to keep still. Moving an inch would have been too much. To let myself do so would have broken my resolve and I'd tear out of this Jeep as if it were made of paper rather than steel.

As Damien climbed in, shutting the door, he handed over the metal thermos before even sparing a glance in my direction. I stared at it eagerly, however I found myself still unable to move. "It hurts," the faint whisper fell from my lips. In another second I was moved to his lap.

Opening the lid, he put it to my lips. The metal had a tawny taste that was overwhelmed and forgotten soon as the blood hit my tongue. I was so taken by the blood in that moment that I let out an aching moan. Lustful. Longing. Satisfied. Distantly I recognized his fingers stroking my hair back behind my ear.

The warm crimson flooded my mouth, washing down my tongue. Cooling the burn, and ache in the back of my throat that had ignited through my veins, threatening to destroy me. The blood was more than replenishing. It was my sanctity. My very sanity.

My hands clutched to the metal bottle, eagerly sucking on it hard until not even a single drop would pull from the metal lip. Sitting there trembling, I tried to fight for my control. After all, I owed Damien so much more. Did I not? "I'm sorry." Still, even in this form of pure undiluted strength I was weak. My self-control was an absolute joke.

"Stop," he demanded, with that same tone that shutdown my argument before it started. His fingers brushed my cheek, along my jaw to curl around the back of my neck.

Despite his obvious pain he was gentle as he moved me back into my seat, letting me stay curled up just as I was in his lap. Frenzy went on through the back of my head. A war raged in my body. Fighting the dark shadows creeping up through my very soul. For how long would this last?

The darkness from my dreams there to devour the blood, and everything it touched. How ironic. I'd become my own worst nightmare.

Damien knew my thoughts on this of course. It was obvious to me that he could feel my emotions very clearly, and hear even more of my thoughts. Not for the fact that he could simply read me better, but for the fact my mind was less chaotic even when racing. It was only this feeling which consumed me.

Every emotion I had was contradicting itself. My mind had been ravaged. My sanity had imploded on itself. I was trying to bring it back together as if it were a massive rope that had unraveled down to the finest twine.

Looking over to him at last I observed him closely as he turned the key in the ignition. "What?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Did you feed?" He didn't look any better but he seemed less cranky. Men get so cranky when they're hungry.

He coughed out a laugh. "Oh do we now? I'll try to keep that in mind to better my temperament." His crooked smile nearly took away my pain, twisting my lips up. I looked on, waiting for him to answer my actual spoken question. "I drained what was left of it, yes."

"Good." I smiled as I looked out the window. Without looking over, I knew he was watching me. The prior tension was gone. "Make sure that you do."

"Does that go for all my appetites?" His lips pressed together into a thin line when I glanced to him. He was trying not to smile. When he looked back to me, his gaze traveled from my eyes and slowly down the rest of my body. "I have an insatiable hunger for something other than blood, you know."

"And what might that be?"

"You." He grinned and licked his lips before eyeing the road briefly.

"I don't think your Jeep would survive it," I replied with light laughter.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'd be very disappointed if it did."

Damien took every road he could possibly manage that would have the least amount of people on it. Of course, it wasn't possible to drive from Vermont through New York, and avoid every car on the road. He kept his hand tight on mine while we had to keep to the busy highways. I returned his grasp with both my hands snug on his own. Even through the cars I could smell the blood in their veins. It was unavoidable, so I lay back in my seat, keeping my eyes clamped shut. He kept the music up to try to distract me.

Freeing my right hand, I gulped down, and ran my hand up over my face. Pulling my hair back, I twisted it in my fingers. Damien watched me out of the corner of his eye. It made me want to scream.

Being weak was one thing- being able to keep it to myself- that was fine and dandy. That was tolerable. But this, being so exposed for what I really was. Uncontrolled. Pathetic. I was on the edge of completely losing it. It felt like I had been stripped naked, and thrown into a crowd of hundreds of people.

"Sorry," he mumbled with a sigh.

"It's not your fault," I grumbled back. "Just do me a favor, help me keep my mind off it. Tell me about your family." Who all was I going to have to be naked in front of theoretically?

"My sister, Jezabell, was who I spoke to earlier. We call her Jezie usually, or Jez, and Lara. You should know they're a couple."

Interesting. Did that mean I had two less women that I would wonder as to if they'd been with Damien? No. Some men like that. The worry faintly increased. Who knew I could be jealous over women I had yet to meet.

"Okay. So they aren't really your family. What is it like a coven thing? Neesa told me about those once," saying her name was hard for me. It was hollow, but still, the hollowness ached.

"It's more than that." He looked over to me with a sigh before he continued talking. We both were hoping it would sooth our ill at ease minds. "Vampires call them Houses. Descendants call them Covens. The Fayes call them Kingdoms. Shifters don't usually have anything like that. However, if there is a group of shifters, just like you've heard, they call them Packs. Immortals are usually loners. Sometimes they couple up, though rarely ever more than a pairing."

He glanced at me again between watching the road. "Our House is a little different I suppose."

"Why?" I asked in a near whisper as I closed my eyes, lying back in my seat. It took all I had to focus on the fluid grace of his voice, and ignore the rest of the world.

"Our House is large for one. Plus, we have all been together for so long we call each other family now."

It was stupid for me to get jealous especially after he said that the two women were a couple. I just kept imagining two gorgeous Vampire women and Damien together for so long... It was hard not to let my imagination stray.

Damien chuckled, reaching his hand across the seat taking mine, squeezing my fingers carefully. Damn mind readers. His touch was gentle. He still thought he was going to break me. I sort of liked that. I squeezed his hand harder simply because I could now. His fingers twitched slightly from the surprise of pressure.

"Don't let them startle you. I know this is hard for you even if you don't want to admit it. My family can be a bit much at first. Even intimidating," his voice grew deeper. Edgy again. "Anyway, we'll be there within an hour."

"Okay." I chewed on my lip. "Damien?" My mouth twisted in the corner as I looked over to him.

"Hm?" His brow arched curiously. He could hear the thoughts begin to form, but I didn't know how to ask. He knew what I meant.

The blood of the deer had not healed him. His skin was still so ashen. The circles under his eyes were still dark. How long would my blood hurt him? How much damage had I caused? Could any of it have been avoided? When would he be better? What could I do to make it right?

"Lianna, I wouldn't change any of it. I just want to get you some place safe. I'm fine. Promise." He squeezed my hand bringing it to his mouth, kissing over my fingers.

He lied.

The minutes ticked by slowly for me. As a human, I thought he never noticed the time that went by. Yet now that I was like him, I wondered how that could be.

Each second seemed to take an eternity to me. I was so hyper alert to everything. Plus my mind seemed to process things much faster as well.

I wanted to ask him about the three that attacked me. What were they? Why did they choose me?

The only thing I knew for certain at this point was that I had died. My soul had lingered, but the body was a corpse. And yet... there I sat. More alive than I had ever felt, despite the lack of heartbeat of course.

In another place in my mind, I questioned the meaning of life. Everything had changed so much. Nothing I had once known seemed real any more.

Not since all the imaginary things had become my very existence. There is something to be said for the child who can see the monsters under the bed after all.

"A great author once said, Children don't need fairy tales to tell them dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children dragons can be killed. I suppose there truly is something to be said for that after all. Or who knows maybe he was a dragon himself."

Damien's brow arched as he looked to me. "G.K Chesterton?" Silently, I nodded. It made him smile, even if in slight.

After what felt like an eternity, Damien followed an unmarked stretch of highway so far that it felt like we were leaving behind all of civilization. Nothing manmade aside from the road could be seen anywhere.

Never had I driven on a road so smooth. The pavement didn't have one pot hole, one bump or even a crack. Along either side of the road, Banyan trees arched overhead casting out the light above.

It was beautiful. Spooky, yet glorious. The vegetation on either side of us blended with more unusual plants, and flowers making it feel as if we had entered an entirely different world. So many colors, all more vibrant than I had ever seen or could have ever imagined a simple forest could ever be.

As fast as Damien continued to drive, it felt as if we were still on the highway, however that seemed impossible. No place I had seen before looked anything like this. The drive stretched up, winding up a great hill through a story book forest.

Soon the Banyan trees vanished, and were replaced with trees straight out of Wonderland. Each so large in of itself they stood as tall, and proud as the Banyans, but were flowered with large, exotic, gothic fuchsia like flowers.

My gaze followed them. They stretched, lining the road on either side every few yards leading up the road to a house. Though it wasn't just any house. It could have easily been big enough for ten people or more to live there, and never feel crowded.

It was so beautiful. Thick midnight blue ivy stretched up the white stone walls. Naturally white with age from the sun. It was glorious, sculpted, exquisite in every way. Moldings of marble, elegantly carved wood, and cast iron, so complex that Da Vinci would have been impressed, decorated the manor in detail.

Massive columns and arches swelled throughout the entire exterior. This was the type of place you saw in movies. Homes that could not exist in the real world. What is the real world though? I had to wonder.

Damien pulled up to the front where a massive covered drive supported with glorious monumental stone columns greeted us. The engine died. He left the keys in the ignition, and within a second my door opened.

Taking my hand again, he gently lifted me out. His arm went tightly around my waist. As we walked up to the house, he kept me close. Although not afraid of anyone here, I was nervous.

It was the human emotions that lingered in my body that still unnerved me. Silly human emotions. Smiling softly, he kissed the top of my head as we reached the front door, whispering into my ear softly, "I won't leave your side."

"Never?" I spoke teasingly.

"Never." He smiled, though his eyes were serious again. He hadn't knocked, but suddenly a lithe, tiny pixie-esque girl sprung out of the house.

She was remarkable. Hair like dark chocolate hung in curling tendrils, woven with dozens of tiny white flowers that fell long past her hips. She wore a dress that came to her mid-thigh. Pale cream silk embedded with tiny crystals that reflected rainbows in every direction.

Obviously, designer clothes were quite common among Vampires. She looked as if she belonged on a runway.

Her right eye was painted with different shades of pastel glitter in the pattern of a most exotic butterfly wing. Though it was nothing compared to her. She was the most stunning beauty I had ever seen. Instantly, I felt shabby, and vastly under dressed.

In one leap, she flung her arms around Damien, giddy, and exuberant as could be. He bellowed out a laugh. Before I could even react she had turned to attack me next.

Her arms wrapped tight around my neck. She kissed each of my cheeks. Her voice was angelic, childlike yet still somehow wicked in its pure delight, "Lianna." Her hands held to my cheeks as she admired me with vibrant sparkling eyes. "You're finally here. We have been waiting for all of eternity!"

Jacquelynn F. Gagne is an artist. When she cannot be found in the real world she is usually found covered in paint, pastels or most usually words. Among writing, photography and art, Jacquelynn has been married for ten years and is mother to two incredible boys who take after their parents in every way, for better and worse.

For more works by Jacquelynn Gagne please visit her at WWW.UnhinderedArts.COM

Note from the author,

There is something that is just pure magic about literature. No matter what you're reading, it holds the possibility of all things, and that is magic! Every story has the potential to give you any and every emotion: love, fear, excitement, sadness, joy, anger, and so much more. There is no purer sense of humanity than emotion. Literature is the quintessential of art. Through words alone we have the ability to create and step into any universe imaginable. Imaginable! And what limit is there to the human imagination? Absolutely none.

To create a book, a novel or otherwise, there is this magnificent feeling of accomplishment but it goes so much further than that. We've taken part in creating a completely new existence. Another dimension comes to life with every word we put on the page. We fall in love with these characters like we do with our partners and our children. They're not just characters, but lives that we give birth to that every reader recreates again and again. For me to finally complete this story and to show it to the world is one of my personally proudest moments. So thank you, to all of those who have come this far. The journeys we're to share together through these pages are going to be absolutely unforgettable.

New Blood is here...

Lianna has crossed the bridge from mortality to immortality, having left her entire existence behind. It felt good to be free of the dark cloud that had lingered over her human life. She could start over, she could be stronger, she could be better. But with the sweets comes the sours. The dreams have found ways to haunt her still. Shayla wasn't done yet. Her ghost had been right about one thing, the key was in the blood. Blood has haunted Lianna from the very moment she entered this eternal existence. A silent vow to herself; she has to conquer the blood before it conquers her.

"Easy, Jezie. Don't scare her off too quickly now." Damien's lips twisted up into a smirk, but the gesture was off. His voice was deep and husky, not the smooth, rich baritone that I had grown accustomed to hearing. One arm draped over my shoulders, his other braced the doorframe. It wasn't quite as casual as he tried for. Worry flashed in Jezabell's eyes but she hid it quickly as she stepped back from us.

Damien had drank my blood in order to save my life, in order to turn me into a Vampire.

At the time, my blood was tainted with bloodstone and Dragon venom. Both are quite toxic and incredibly painful. He'd known this, and yet poisoned himself willingly. Why? He'd bound himself to do so in a blood promise. That- and he loved me.

The bloodstone had been given to me by a Descendant, a psychic friend from my former life as a mortal. All of this in order to heal my many injuries at the time. This is the same former friend/Descendant who bound Damien in the blood promise.

Descendants are like witches, only they're real. They're power is far greater than one would realize.

The bloodstone also helped in severely weakening three Vampire Crossbreeds that were trying to disembowel me. Though however weak they were, they still succeeded in killing me.

I suppose it is lucky for me that Damien had forced me to drink enough of his blood that it managed to bring me back. The downside was that his consequences, as well as the pain of my guilt, were dire.

Of course, he was doing his best to hide it. Though neither I nor Jezabell were blind enough to miss that he was in a great amount of pain. He was fighting death after all.

Jezabell is a part of Damien's family if you will. Another Vampire who has not only known him far longer than I have, but has lived with him in what they call their House for just a few centuries or so. She's not the only member of this House either, of course. A House is the Vampire equivalent of a Coven for Descendants or a Pack for Shifters.

Damien claims two sisters and two brothers in total within their House. He brought me here after my human death for a world of reasons that I could only guess at.

Worry flashed in her eyes as she looked over Damien before turning her attentions back to me. "Yes, of course. I'm so very sorry." The weight of her words matched the suspecting glint in her eyes as her gaze swept past me. "Welcome to our home, Lianna. You must be so overwhelmed with it all. Won't you please come in?" Jezabell turned as she spoke, skipping ahead of us with her gazelle like grace. Damien kept his arm draped over my shoulders as we walked to the great room.

Their home was practically a palace. Impossibly high ceilings spread up into breath taking slopes, and arches. The embellished molding was utterly spectacular as it seeped from corners, and high beams like lavish frosting on a cake.

A massive chandelier dangled down from the ceiling in glorious black iron. Fully engorged with Austrian crystals, it glittered in the rays of the sun that brightly lit the room. I had never seen anything like it before.

Almost everything fell between shades of pure white and cool black. The floor of the foyer inlaid with ebony marble matched the columns. From the base of each gleaming black column sprawled hand carved molding that curved elegantly like great billowing clouds of smoke. Tendrils enwrapped and danced around the bases in a rapturous, winsome manner.

The walls were a perfect contrasting pearl white. To the left was a magnificent black marble staircase sweeping along the wall with utter grandeur in an upward spiral to higher levels. None to my surprise, the rails, as well the backboards separating each step were carved in magnificent patterns of foliage. Gifted with incredible new sight I could take in every detail in nanoseconds. The staircase was so large that it could have occupied its own zip code. The entire piece seemed to be exquisitely crafted of pure black marble.

Damn. I bet my old loft would fit in one of their closets. Grinning, Damien leaned close whispering, "Only Jezabell's." To hide the curl of my lips, my hand covered my mouth.

Jezabell swept us along into the main living area. Everything was so splendid it made me feel completely out of place.

The marble floor began to blend with hardwood in intricate swirling patterns in ways I had never seen before. Almost puzzle like. The wood was nearly seamless, spreading to take over the remaining of the first floor in rich Brazilian rosewood.

A massive area rug covered the floor of the open living room just under the sitting area. I thought it may have been fur for as lush and snow white as it was. Somehow, I doubted Vampires believed much in animal rights. Not that I had ever been a real tree hugger or anything. My brows lift in thought of that as I looked over the rest of the room. The fireplace was big enough for me to stand in. I could smell the ash though it had been cleaned recently.

Substantial pieces of furniture, as if made for much larger people, filled the living room. The couch was almost twice the width of a normal sofa, over stuffed and covered in raw white silk. As well a love seat and single large sofa chair were designed to match.

It was all incredibly modern, but somehow fit for royalty. Two massive white wing back chairs were trimmed to match the Brazilian rosewood with fabric of the same hand woven raw silk topped off the scene of finery. It was overwhelming. To the core of my being I felt like I didn't belong here. My knee twitched, aching to run from this room and everything in it. Well, all but one.

Damien sat down in the largest chair and pulled me down into his lap. There was immense relief in his eyes as he sunk back into the plush furniture. It pained me to know I had caused it, despite that he had denied it so adamantly.

His eyes flickered to mine with brief acknowledgement of my thoughts. He glowered for a millisecond before turning his eyes away from me. Mind readers. My eyes rolled.

Damien is a mind reader. Yes, it is as embarrassing for me as one would imagine, but after a little while, you just get used to having no private thoughts. Sometimes it comes in handy though, I admit.

The only saving grace was that my mind was not completely open to his. Only my strong emotions and clear precise thoughts were totally accessible to him. I've carried complete conversations with him and never said a word myself.

Many Vampires have some sort of extra ability according to Damien. I hadn't seemed to have developed a gift yet, but I was less than two days into immortality.

Not all Vampires are mind readers in the same aspect that Damien is. His curse runs bone deep. He can't shut it off. Most Vampires have to think a thought very clearly or directly to another Vampire in order for that thought to be picked up. Though in Damien's case, he seemed to hear almost everything from almost everyone.

It hurt to have him upset with me, even if he was only bothered by my guilt.

One week ago I was human. Damien had walked with me along the docks of Burlington Vermont. We kissed. He took me home and discovered the extent of my abnormalities. A spirit had haunted my dreams since I'd been a child. I shared her pain both physically, and mentally. I'm being very literal.

Not long after, I thought I had gone crazy and went to see a Descendant. My friend's mother to be precise. More or less she told me that I was insane. That night, I was attacked by a Crossbreed named Beckett, who happens to be dead now. Crossbreeds are born supernatural creatures that have been bitten, and turned into Vampires. A deadly combination no matter the born nature. Their sanity tends to diminish rapidly with the change.

The day after that, my oldest friend became possessed and attempted to rape, and murder me. I then abandoned my entire life to be with Damien. I didn't know it would be literally. Before the next sunrise, I was murdered. Which leaves me here, a true living dead Vampire.

My chest felt heavy as if it were beginning to burn slowly. This slow burning pain caused my entire body to tense. I assumed this was from stress. My emotions were potent. More or less, I was doing everything I could to ignore the irritation, and mostly wishing I could hide behind Damien rather than be set atop him on display.

Jezabell's eyes narrowed as she looked me over and then set hard onto Damien. "What am I going to do with you two? She's obviously starving. Didn't you think to feed her?" she scorned him. "And look at yourself, Damien. I've never seen you look-"

"I'm fine, Jezabell. Leave it alone. And she fed a few hours ago." Damien's eyes narrowed inquisitively on me as I curled into a ball in his lap trying to disappear in on myself. His voice was hard and cold as he'd spoken to Jezabell. Or rather as he had cut her off.

Jezabell turned her head, giving a knowing look to someone who must have been another Vampire. I'd not noticed her before. She'd been standing in a darkened doorway on the other end of the room so still she could have been a statue.

To me she looked like an angel. Such a thing wouldn't have surprised me at this point.

Her hair was long down her back and seemed made of the most pure blonde silk, highlighted with glistening white rays of the sun. She must have been young when she turned. Sixteen at best, maybe even younger still. The recognition of this led me to wonder how someone so young was brought into this life. I shuddered thinking about how gruesome it could have been if at all like my own. Worst of all, she looked more sickeningly perfect than any of them.

Skin tinted like soft ivory with the slightest warm glow. Brown eyes reflected every color of gold, copper, amber and bronze. She had perfect heart shaped lips blended of soft pink and light peach.

With a light nod of her head she disappeared. I stayed quiet of course, uncertain how to respond to anything now. After a few moments, the young angel returned to the room carrying a silver tray with large wine glasses. Each filled with a dark crimson liquid.

The smell made my head spin. Instantly I knew what the red liquid was. Biting down on my lip, I shut my eyes. Damien spoke to the others with a discontent sigh, "Her appetite is stronger than I expected."

"I can imagine. The poor dear," Jezabell, aka pixie pire spoke.

"Damien, she's positively lovely. You did very well. We have all been so worried. Again, I wish I could have been of more... Well, you know," the angel's voice so filled with regret and still so melodic it could make cherubs weep. I forced my eyes open to get a better look at the younger girl.

Kneeling by my side she held up the glass for me. Her hand guided mine to the stem as I trembled from the thirst.

Both women were so beautiful that it stunned me. How they could possibly know anything of the same darkness that was threatening to overcome me seemed impossible. How could creatures so lovely possibly have any darkness what so ever within?

My fingers wrapped around the glass while trying to focus on being careful. It seemed so fragile that I had a feeling the glass may shatter at any second if I was not extra cautious.

The glass hit my lips and the taste was just as over whelming as it had been in the Jeep. Drinking it down too eagerly, I couldn't keep myself from sucking down every drop in a mere second. The glass cracked from the lip down nearly an inch.

Hearing Jezabell's voice tainted with laughter brought me back to attention, "Drink, my dear, it's all right. You have nothing to hide here. We all understand."

The beautiful angel took the glass, and handed me another with a soft bit of laughter of her own. My fingers trembled still. Both pixie and the angel laughed together. Their voices were as soft as feathers falling. It made me want to die. Oops, I already did. Damien heard my thoughts and laughed hard once for his own bitter amusement. The roughness of it brought me out of the heady dream threatening to pull me away. It must have been the blood. Hiding my face in my other hand, I let out a deep sigh.

"You all make me feel like I'm in rehab," It was the first I'd spoke aloud. Having not realized I had already finished the other glass, the little angel took it from me, but did not hand me another. For that I was grateful. There was another spider web-like crack throughout the one she took from me. Already I did not like being on display as I drank.

"I brought you here because you're, well... you're very young, Anna. An infant if you will." Damien's hand rubbed up and down my shin lightly. There was immense comfort in his touch. It also brought on a different sort of craving.

"Yes, a New Blood you called me. I remember," hope they wouldn't hold the bitterness in my tone against me.

"You need time to gain your strengths, and understand your weaknesses. You need to learn to control yourself. Not just your urges, but your strengths as well. It's like being reborn. You have to learn how to be all over again." Thus the reason they call young Vampires New Bloods. Damien explained all this without meeting my gaze. Damien spoke softly as if only to me. His words and voice made me feel better, but the remorse in his eyes upset me.

It was hard to look at him knowing he didn't want any of this. Shouldn't he be happy that I was like him now? Safe to be with him forever. But if that's not what he wanted... I just whispered with a small nod, "Oh."

"What Damien is reluctant to admit, is that he's having a hard time with this."

Obviously.

"Not like you are, of course. However still, it is difficult. To try to teach the one you love as perfectly as they are and turn them into a monster. To teach them to be a monster. Despite the obvious benefits, it's still not easy, Lianna," the angel spoke, though I knew she must be Lara.

He spoke of two women in the Jeep anyway, Lara and Jezabell. How either of these women could compare themselves to monsters was beyond me. It was hard to imagine such perfect creatures, let alone anyone else, could understand the darkness stirring within me now. The demon inside.

Damien, of course, could hear me put all of that together in my head. If it had been possible my cheeks would be on fire as he whispered the confirmation of my realization to me. "Yes, her name is Lara."

She winked and just smiled. Her hand lay down on top of both of mine, holding them tenderly like a child might. My fingers were shaking still but not quite as badly as before. Her smile was sweet but her gaze seemed far away as if she were thinking about something or somewhere else completely. She wasn't looking at me, but past.

Lara's hand squeezed mine softly again as she spoke. Her words were fluid through the air, "We will each play our part in refining you. Teaching you what we each can."

I had this sudden image of them dressed in turn of the century schoolmarm wear and each of them holding rulers and ready to whack hands for any wrong answer.

The image switched to an old movie. I simply couldn't help myself. I mumbled, "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."

Damien's lips pulled into a smirk. His hands placed tightly onto my hips as he lifted me up, standing me to my feet as he stood up behind me. "Ladies, if you don't mind I am going to show Anna upstairs. It's been a rather long couple of days for the both of us."

"Of course, Damien." Jezabell's eyes were caught on each of Damien's movements as if she could see not just the symptoms of his weakness, but the source of it. Me.

"Do come see me later though." It may have been paranoia, but I swore she looked at me with the slightest of accusation behind those ebony eyes. Yes, she must have known it was I that had done this to him. Damien nodded silently.

"Thank you," I spoke softly. Nodding politely to them both, I moved along with Damien. They nodded in return, understandingly. Their smiles were wickedly sweet. Perhaps there was more devil in them than I realized.

As I moved with him, it felt like I was floating. Elegant like a dancer. As if we walked on air. Damien and I moved side by side up the stairs.

The second floor was different from the first by far. The walls were custom painted so that they looked like ancient Italian stone marble in rich colors from creamy vanilla to deep gold.

The floors were deep red in color. Brazilian walnut. Recognizable for I had seen a few pieces of furniture made from the rare and expensive wood in Neesa's mother's home. The Descendant who thought me crazed.

Where the first level had been an exquisite black and white palace, the second floor flourished in the Italian renaissance.

Raw dark stone columns as thick as tree trunks lined the hall in-between sets of double doors. Each column carved at the head and foot with tiny sculptures of angels so painfully beautiful they seemed better fit only for the Vatican.

Each set of doors was hand carved artfully such as Belinesian doors. They were all different with intricate scenes of everything from olive groves, to grape vine fields, and wondrous Italian grottos.

My jaw was slack as I walked the curling path in utter awe. Damien was gracious by allowing me to slow to a crawl as we walked so that I could look on at each splendid detail.

As large as the house was, it seemed somewhat surprising there were only two sets of doors on this floor. I was curious if they led to a hall of doors like the Wildflower, Neesa's mother's store. Why did I keep thinking of them?

The stairs swept in a large circle, acting as a balcony to the room bellow until it circled the entire room and spread up another story. Looking up and then down, I realized you could see from the bottom level up to the ceiling which was also decorated. In the center of the ceiling, I looked up at a sculpted brass sun.

A statue, tall as Damien, stood at the bottom of the next winding case, in its own little nook. It was life like in its perfection and detail.

A woman with eyes so exquisitely detailed it felt as if they were alive as they watched us even in their absence of color. The entire statue was black as midnight, carved from some beautiful black marble. Her hair curled in a mass of stone tendrils to the floor, tiny flowers wove in throughout the strands.

While her features were beautiful, they seemed to hint harshness. Not evil, no not at all. Just hardened. Almost similar to the face of a female warrior though disguised in the garb of a Goddess. One could have wept at her magnificence.

Before I could ask, Damien stood at my side speaking quietly as if she were too pure to raise your voice in front of. "Her name is Achlys... She is revered as the Greek Goddess of eternal night. She's also called Nyx. There are those who believe she was the mother of our existence." Of Vampires.

"I've never seen anything like her before," whispering in turn.

"Few have. Jezabell created her... Achlys was a dear friend to Jezabell for a great many years." It was hard to identify where my surprise came from most. That Jezabell could create such beauty. Or that she was friends with a Goddess.

Softly his hand placed to my lower back, guiding me to the stairs again.

The art on the second floor changed from masterful columns to paintings so stunning I froze, letting out a soft laugh of awe. My eyes could pick up details I had never seen before now. Each stroke of paint was easily identified on the many paintings hung along the wall from history's most amazing masters. The cracks in the dried old paint made it look like a puzzle pieced together of a million pieces.

I had studied art history in my years as a human. Nevertheless, I had never seen these paintings before. Yet they were all somehow familiar. By no means was I a scholar but with my new eyes I believed I had identified each one as the work of the greats.

Vincent Van Gogh. Leonardo Da Vinci. Had he painted this for Damien? Another member of this house? The painting was beautiful. Undeniably Da Vinci. Yet it was absolutely savage. A nightmare. Stopping before it, all I could do was take it in, detail by frightening detail. Damien stood behind me, but said nothing. At last I pulled myself away and move on.

Pablo Picasso. Rembrandt Van Rijn. Jan Van Eyck. Raphael and Sandro Botticelli. They were all here, spread throughout the vast hall and leading up to another winding staircase.

Damien allowed me to study each piece, staying always just behind me. "Who is this one?" questioned in a mere whisper of humbled awe. "I don't recognize this style."

The painting itself hinted at the style of Michelangelo with such beautiful detailed perfection, but the colors were wrong in every way. This paint was older. The colors were more vibrant and wild, yet dark. Somehow, they shimmered.

The woman displayed in the picture had long black wild curls and much unlike the art of Da Vinci, her eyes and smile were wickedly appealing rather than timid and angelic. The eyes called to you. Much like the statue just down the stairs had been. Obviously though, these were not the same women. This woman was pixie like, with elegant yet sharp features. A narrow chin. The statue of a woman had a square jaw though quite feminine.

The painting was a nude though very tastefully done. The woman lay against a large stone covered in moss. The background was a beautiful waterfall so life like I was certain it must exist somewhere.

"You don't recognize her? Lara painted her. That's Jezabell," he answered calmly, little emotion showing in his voice. "The shimmer you see is crushed pearl."

"It's-" It was difficult to form the sentence. The painting was ancient. I could smell the lambskin and the bare ingredients of the paint. Each painting varied slightly because everything came from different resources. They were diverse enough I could detect the differences even if I would not have known each painters work. This seemed easily the oldest here.

Hearing him speak his age and then seeing proof of their years was astounding and almost frightening. It told me more of what I had become.

"Yes, it's very old... More than a few hundred years. You would have to ask her." Damien supplied the answer to my unspoken question. His voice so casual on the surface seemed to alarm me for some unknown reason. Despite how content he seemed to be to show me his most beautiful home he was still in pain. How could I have been so cruel to ignore it, I wondered. I turned to him with a forced smile and motioned for him to lead the way without another word.

His blur of speed that I once found impossible to catch sight of now seemed a simple series of movements, even if it was very fast.

Up the next flight of stairs, my fingers brushed the rail as I walked. This staircase was iron. It, too, of course was just as finely crafted. Created to appear as glorious vines and exotic flowers. Mingled with the ivy were exotic birds. The only ones I recognized were peacocks. Splendid.

The banister was a masterpiece. Hm. Never imagined myself thinking that in regards to a staircase. The metal itself had somehow been smoothed so to touch it was as if to touch glass.

Murals decorated these walls in much the same style of the painting I had admired before. These murals dictated scenery of island life. Though of where I could never have imagined. "Yes, it's Lara's work. Azores Portugal. Lara and Jezabell lived there for a time."

I nodded slowly. Of course they did. My favorite part of the mural pictured a grotto filled with greenery. The only plant I recognized was the Ginko trees. Everything about this House made me feel inferior.

"And you tried to tell me my work was good? I will have to remember how good of a liar you are." My brows rose as I shook my head in disbelief while eyeing him with a playful coyness. I wasn't just an amateur next to Lara and Jezabell. I fell off the artistry pedestal created by their work completely.

Damien's brow furrowed darkly as he stood at the double doors down the hall waiting for me to join him. As I did so in a slow human pace, he twisted a knob and held the door open for me to enter.

Entering through that door, Damien took me away to another world.

Discover more from Jacquelynn Gagne

Coming soon

The Blood Saga continues....

