

**Wake Me**

**When the Sun Goes Down**

**By**

**Lisa Olsen**

Copyright 2011 by Lisa Olsen

Cover Image licensed by Depositphotos.com/Stanislav

Smashwords Edition

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Acknowledgements

Thanks to my daughters, Emily for her proofing skills as usual and Brynna for helping me whittle away until I find the perfect names for everything from bartenders to book titles. Thanks to the newest addition to my editing team, Beckie Pimentel for her awesome attention to detail. Thanks to National Novel Writing Month 2011 for pushing me to ignore everything else for the month of November (though I'm sure my family doesn't share in those thanks!). Thanks to my fan fiction readers for the great feedback on the piece that inspired me to write this book, and for being patient with me and my infrequent updates while I wrote it. Thanks to everyone who voted on the cover art on my website, I love hearing from you guys! And of course chocolate covered thanks to my husband James who takes care of all of the business and technical sides to publishing which frees me up to spend more time writing. I couldn't do it without you, babydoll! Hearts and flowers to all!

Chapter One

I couldn't move.

I wasn't strapped to the table, or in a straight jacket, though one might have been a good idea in hindsight; I just couldn't make my limbs obey me. It felt like my entire body was weighed down, as if I'd been mountain climbing all day (not that I've ever done such a thing in my lifetime). I couldn't even turn my head, which was disconcerting, especially since the hard surface at my back didn't feel at all like my Serta mattress.

My other senses were in overdrive though. Something strong and astringent in the air made the back of my throat tingle unpleasantly. Was my roommate up cleaning the bathroom with a bucket of bleach? No, that didn't seem quite right. It had a different chemical smell I couldn't quite place, along with an underlying scent that smelled good. Like the spicy aroma of Chinese food that lingers long after the last egg roll is gone. Besides, I couldn't picture a world in which Bridget would be up cleaning in the middle of the night.

My skin felt itchy all over, irritated by the rough material pressed up against it. Where were my warm, cuddly pajamas? A sheet was pulled all the way up over my head, as if I'd been trying to hide in my sleep. I noticed my feet were bare, which was really odd. I always slept with at least one pair of socks on, so my feet wouldn't freeze. They didn't feel cold at the time though. I didn't feel hot or cold, just... normal, apart from the fact that I couldn't move. I took some small comfort in the fact that I wasn't completely paralyzed with no feeling in my body whatsoever. A muffled but steady thump reached my ears, and in my foggy state I lay there trying to figure out what it was.

That's when I realized... I wasn't alone.

There was someone else in the room with me, I could hear him breathing. For two seconds I forgot to breathe myself, fear paralyzing what was left of my moving body. Who was in my bedroom? Was I even in my bedroom? Suddenly it seemed less like a weird dream and more like a dangerous situation to be in, especially when I found I couldn't open my eyes.

A swishing sound hit my ears, like a swinging door being pushed open, footsteps echoing in its wake. "Hey, I'm here to pick up an Anja Evans?"

That's me! Only the guy mispronounced my name, with a hard "j" instead of the softer "y" sound of Ahnyah it's supposed to sound like, so obviously I didn't know the guy. Also his shoes squeaked, so we definitely weren't in my bedroom, not that I really thought I was anymore.

"Evans... Evans... I don't have an Evans, how long has she been here?" a different man answered, sounding bored as he flipped through papers.

"I don't know, some time tonight. Are you sure you don't have her? Maybe she's not updated in the computer yet. Blonde hair, blue eyes, about average height, wearing some kind of costume?"

That sounded like me alright, but costume? My hands moved a tiny bit, sliding across the heavy fabric that felt nothing like my pj's. Why would I be dressed up in a costume?

"Oh, Jane Doe number six. Sure, we've got her over here." The steps got louder as they walked in my direction.

"You've had six unidentified females today? Are they that common here?" He sounded almost as surprised as I was. If they didn't know who I was, that meant they hadn't called my family or anyone yet. I was completely on my own.

"No, they're really not. That's why she's only number six, ever."

I'm over here, I'm awake... I tried to speak, but I couldn't make any sound, and my eyes still wouldn't budge no matter how hard I tried to force them open. My fingers started to respond sluggishly, but the men must not have noticed under the sheet.

All at once, I realized I must be in the hospital. That would explain the uncomfortable bed, the vague disinterest about me and the smell of disinfectant. I drew some comfort from that, because if I was drugged out or paralyzed, at least I was under a doctor's care. That was my assumption anyway...

"Are you sure you have the right one? I'll catch hell if I bring back the wrong body. How did she die?"

Die? I couldn't be dead! I could still hear, smell, and feel everything. On the plus side, my tongue started to loosen, and I could open and close my teeth. If I could move, I couldn't possibly be dead, but something was definitely wrong. I swallowed uncomfortably past the lump that rose in my throat.

What had happened to me? All too soon, the comfort of finding myself in the hospital turned to despair, and I could feel a silent tear slip from the corner of my eye. It went unnoticed by the men in the room thanks to the sheet pulled up over my head.

"Ah... looks like traumatic blood loss. Tissue damage to the neck, died in transit to the hospital, that's all I've got here. But you're welcome to take a look before you take her."

A millisecond before the sheet came off, my eyes popped open and a high, keening cry leaked out of me like the air out of a balloon; my only available version of a scream, I suppose. The effect was electrifying. Both men screamed, and like a switch was flipped, I felt the energy rush back into my limbs. Filling my lungs with air, I screamed right back at them, and we stared at each other, all of us screaming for a good ten seconds before the room got really quiet.

"You're... you're..." The guy dropped his clipboard as he backed up a few feet. The other man, the one who came to get me I assumed, continued to stare at me like I had just risen from the dead, which was understandable.

"W-where am I?" My voice sounded shrill to my ears and I couldn't help but wince, doing my best to swallow back my fear. I felt... wrong somehow, but I couldn't quite identify why. Finding myself in such strange surroundings was too distracting.

"Shoreline Memorial Hospital in San Francisco. You're, um... you're supposed to be dead."

"I'm sorry..." slipped out reflexively, though what I had to be sorry about, I couldn't imagine. Shoreline was the same hospital Bridget worked at, and I wondered if she knew I was there. I was tired of lying down and I might have said something to that effect as I pushed myself up to a seated position, but I was too busy looking at my surroundings to be sure if I'd spoken out loud. It wasn't a hospital room as I'd assumed, but what looked like a morgue, based on my experience with TV and movies.

I was still half lying on a gurney, but a large stainless steel table stood in the center of the room, with holes drilled through it for drainage of various... ugh, I didn't want to go there. "I feel..." dizzy, confused, itchy, nauseous, sore, tired...wrong... "...different." My tongue finally supplied, and I again marveled at the sound of my own voice. Was it my ears or the timbre of my voice that had changed? It was impossible to tell.

"That's understandable, you've been dead for over an hour," the morgue attendant replied distractedly, bending to pick up the clipboard.

"Oh come on, Dave, there's obviously been a mistake. She's no more dead than you or me. I know some folks that are going to be glad to see you up and walking around." The other guy gave me an encouraging smile.

Walking around didn't sound like too bad of an option. More than anything I wanted out of the morgue with its strange smells and disturbing tables. Despite the dizziness, I launched myself to my feet, throwing myself off balance as my muscles propelled me farther than I had intended. I careened into the icky metal table, sending a tray of tools crashing to the ground. The sound was deafening, and I clamped my hands over my ears as I waited for it to end.

"Whoa, are you sure you should be up and around?" Smiley guy reached out to steady me, catching hold of my elbows.

That's when I noticed the front of my dress had been cut and gaped open, showing more of my natural assets than I cared to, outside of a beach. When I say my dress, I don't mean my dress. I'd never seen the thing before in my life. No wonder they reported I'd been wearing a costume, I would have made the same assumption. The underdress was made from a scratchy, coarse linen, the color of marigolds. The outer layer was a heavier, indigo wool, held up just below the shoulders by two round metal broaches adorned with three running horses, their legs intertwined.

It was hard for me to gauge the whole effect in looking down. Wherever it came from, they'd never get the deposit back. Besides the long cut down the chest, it was also soaked through with blood on the left side of my body.

"I don't belong here," I murmured, pulling myself free from his grasp and doing my best to hold the dress closed. Overcorrecting, I nearly fell over the other way. Trying to muster a modicum of dignity, I swallowed again, clearing my throat in search of my normal tone of voice. "Can either of you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm not sure, this almost never happens," Dave replied, losing some of the stunned look from his face. I saw his eyes dip to my chest and I shot him a look.

"But it does sometimes?" That was disturbing to hear on many levels.

Dave's face flushed when he saw that I noticed him looking and he turned away, coughing into his hand as he approached a desk set in the far corner of the room. "Well no, not down here. Usually they catch that sort of thing up on the main floors. Um, let's see what I can find out here." He tapped on the computer and the other man followed to look over his shoulder. "You were brought in a little over an hour ago... and died enroute to the hospital. They tried to revive you, but..."

He'd already said that before, but it was like it had happened to someone else. "I don't remember any of this." I shook my head miserably, it was starting to pound something fierce.

Smiley guy took pity on me, fixing me with that same reassuring smile. "You've been through quite a trauma, ma'am. Maybe you should sit down?" Nodding, I avoided the creepy tables and slid into a plastic molded chair by the swinging door. "I'm Mike Turley, I work for the medical examiner's office with SFPD, and I'm glad to find you alive and breathing."

"Anja Evans." I stuck out my hand by force of habit and after a moment's hesitation, he shook it. I was struck by how warm his hand was, but I didn't feel uncomfortably cold. Any difference in temperature was probably from my lying in the chilly morgue for an hour without my socks on.

"Nice to meet you, Anja." He pronounced my name correctly that time. "Sit tight, I'm sure there are a lot of people who want to talk to you." Straightening, he turned back to where Dave sat at the computer. "I'm going to need to make some calls and my signal's for shit. Do you have a phone I can use?"

"Oh yeah, there's never any signal down here. Feel free to use this line here, dial nine to get out. I should really get a doctor down here to examine her, or I wonder if I should take her up to the ED myself..."

A lot of people who wanted to talk to me. Cool beans. And lots of doctors poking and prodding me as well. Even better. My eyes flicked to the swinging door beside me, the urge to flee growing stronger and stronger, until I lurched out of the chair and out the door with a soft rush of air. Once I was on the move, it seemed a simple thing to keep going. Objects in motion are easier to stay in motion, or something like that. I've never been particularly good at physics, no matter what you may have heard.

I'd always had the stigma of being kind of a book nerd. It's cliché, but maybe it had something to do with the braces and glasses I wore all through high school. Okay, so looking back I can admit it had more than a little to do with button down shirts and skirts that didn't rise above the knee, but my parents were really strict while I was growing up. Even three years out of high school, I still had trouble coming out of my shell, as my sister Hanna liked to call it. Or pulling the stick out of my... behind (I'm paraphrasing), as Bridget liked to say a bit more colorfully.

While the braces were long gone, the glasses remained, but I liked to think I didn't look all that different from any other student at the Central Coast Academy of Fine Arts. When I wasn't wandering through the bowels of the hospital wearing a torn, bloody rag, that was.

The need to get away from the morgue propelled me forward, I thought it was adrenaline lending me swiftness at the time. The earlier stiffness was completely gone, no trace of the paralysis, though I still felt off my game. Every second that drew me farther away, I expected to hear my name called from behind, or even a 'stop that girl!' yelled after me. But I didn't run into a soul on my way to the wide elevator at the end of the hallway. As the doors slid shut, so did my eyes, and I allowed myself a brief moment to catch my breath and give thanks to the gods above for not only allowing me to get away, but for sparing me from whatever near-death experience I'd narrowly escaped.

As conspicuous as I felt in my bare feet and ruined dress on the ground floor, it was nothing compared to the flare of embarrassment that went through me when someone joined me in the elevator. A little wisp of a man, close to my height, peered at me from behind oversized glasses. Dressed in blue scrubs, he could have been anything from laundry staff to a neurosurgeon to my untrained eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, more than a little concerned by my appearance.

"Yes, of course. This isn't my blood," I waved off the concern. Come to think of it, I wasn't in any pain. What had the guy said back in the morgue... tissue damage at the neck? My neck felt fine. Surreptitiously, my hand snaked up to probe at my neck and felt nothing but smooth skin. "It's ah... it was a costume party that got a little out of hand. You know how it is." I gave him my best smile and crazily enough, he bought it.

"I remember those days," he smiled wistfully. The doors opened on the second floor then and he held them open for me. "Getting off?" There was definitely a light of hope in his eyes. What kind of a weirdo wanted to flirt with a barefoot, bloody wreck of a girl in the middle of the night in a hospital?

"Sorry, not my floor." I pushed the button for the third floor, stepping back with a faint smile as he shuffled off. What I wouldn't give for a mirror... Self consciously, I pushed the hair out of my eyes and realized for the first time I wasn't wearing my glasses.

I wasn't blind by any means; I could tell the difference between a tube of toothpaste and a tube of anti-itch cream, but I had trouble whenever reading was involved. Normally when I forgot to put my glasses on, after a few minutes I'd get a light headache until I put them back on again, but I'd been walking around the hospital just fine without them.

Looking at the numbers on the elevator buttons, they were sharp and distinct. I could clearly read the posted weight limit and even the elevator permit behind grubby plastic. Maybe it was one of those things where you got hit on the head and it changed your eyesight? Only I didn't think I'd hit my head, and since when did the Flintstones logic work anyway? The night kept getting weirder and weirder.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out onto the deserted hallway. I knew my roommate Bridget worked nights up on the third floor in long term care as a ward assistant (a glorified name for an orderly, but I'd learned long ago she didn't particularly appreciate that label), and I hoped it wouldn't be too hard to find her without attracting more attention. Luckily, I didn't meet a soul, and I spotted her standing at the nurse's station, head bobbing to Linkin Park blaring from her earbuds.

You'd never think someone like Bridget and I would be friends from looking at us. Maybe that makes me a little judgmental of appearances, but you have to admit, most people do make snap decisions based on looks. Paired with her maroon scrubs, she wore chunky, black combat boots that flopped open at the top, a score of black rubber bracelets like Madonna used to wear back in the eighties, and at least three chunky silver necklaces. Her dark hair was plaited into thick braids that hung down her back, revealing the top of the tattoo on her neck. I've always wanted one, but I could never picture myself as a grandmother with a tattoo. Who wants to see a cool design get saggy, old, and faded as you age?

Bridget didn't know how to do subtle with makeup, and I could see the heavy dark eyeliner on her eyelids and deep red 'vixen' lips from a mile away. It was a little surprising the hospital didn't care how she altered the dress code to suit her tastes, but when you worked the graveyard shift, things were more lax, I supposed.

I guess you could say I've always been a little bit classical and she was a little bit rock and roll. Not that I didn't want to be rock and roll myself... I did like rock music, I just hadn't had much opportunity to pursue that kind of lifestyle, not even in college. But at least I knew who Linkin Park was. I should get points for that, right?

Making a beeline for the nurse's desk, I was gratified to find it deserted, except for the two of us. The entire floor was silent, but for the soft drone and beeps of equipment in the background. Her head bobbed to the music, casually flipping through a magazine on the counter, completely unaware of my approach until I touched her elbow and she jumped a foot.

"Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" she gasped, hand flying to cover her heart. I could practically hear it beating too, thump, thump, thump, it was almost hypnotic. "Hello? Earth to Anja..." She waggled her fingers in front of my face, and I snapped out of it.

"Oh, sorry. I was just... I'm having the weirdest night." Talk about an understatement. Now that I'd found her, I wasn't sure where to begin. It was obvious she had no idea I'd been down in the morgue. Hopefully that meant my family was blissfully unaware of the fact as well.

"Ah, it's a little early for Halloween isn't it? What's with the ensemble?" Her fingers waved again in the general direction of my outfit.

"That is the least of my worries right now. Do you think we could sit down and talk for a bit?" I could see the aversion on her face. Maybe she thought I was having boyfriend troubles. Bridget wasn't big on heart to hearts. "Please? It's important."

"Fine, you don't have to be so dramatic," she rolled her eyes, slouching against the counter.

My eyes darted up and down the length of the corridor. "Can we talk somewhere more private?" Anyone could come along and spot me at any moment and I still dreaded the questions that would come with it until I had more answers myself.

Another roll of the eyes was given, but she led me into a patient's room. "Is this good enough for you?"

I looked at the old man occupying the bed, his eyes watching us with vague interest. "What about him?"

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's deaf as a post."

"But won't we keep him awake?" The idea of barging into his room didn't sit well with me.

"Old people don't sleep," she scoffed as if it was a well known fact. "Hi, Mr. Gutterman!" she yelled. "Just ignore us, we're having a little girl talk, okay?" she nodded and flashed him a thumbs up sign. The old man gave no indication he'd heard a single thing she said and Bridget turned her back on him. "See, we're fine. So spill, what's so important it's got you out of bed past ten o'clock?"

My tongue darted out to moisten my lips. "I think... I think I died."

Chapter Two

"You died," she deadpanned. Not exactly the reaction I'd been looking for, or any reaction at all really. "What, at home?"

"No... maybe... I'm not sure. All I know is, I woke up in the morgue, dressed like this."

"My morgue, downstairs?" That seemed to personalize it for her, and I nodded.

"No shit! When did that happen? Are you gonna sue the hospital? Oh, if you do, name that dickwad Simpson, I hate that guy." Her eyes alight with avarice, I could tell she was already mentally spending my settlement money and anticipating sweet revenge against the hated doctor.

"I don't even know who that is..." My brows drew together as I tried to get her back on track. "Bridge, you're missing the point. I don't know how I got there or why I look like this."

"Well, what did you do after I left for work? I told you not to shop for dates on Craig's List," she teased. We both knew I hadn't dated since breaking up with Trent. Since we'd both broken up with Trent, actually. It's a long story.

"Very funny." I wasn't as amused as she was. "I went to bed alone, and the next thing I knew I was here like this, that's it, I swear. They said I was pronounced dead over an hour ago."

"Damn, I can see how that would wig you out," she conceded and I was glad to be finally getting through to her. Bridget had a good heart, she just wasn't always the most sympathetic of ears. "I wonder what this is all about?" Her fingers reached out to lightly trace over one of the heavy pins holding up the dress. "This is cool, I'm gonna borrow it sometime, okay?"

That was a first, she'd never asked to borrow anything of mine before. It was kind of cool, but if it brought bloody deaths and trips to the morgue, it wasn't worth it in my books. "Can we maybe focus less on the jewelry and more on the whole dead thing?"

"It's Norse." Mr. Gutterman sounded raspy, as though there was too much air passing through in ratio to his voice.

"What's that, Mr. G?" Bridget asked as we both approached the bed.

"I thought you said he was deaf?"

"I lip read," he shrugged thin shoulders. "I said it's Norse, the jewelry, the clothes. Old Norse to be exact."

"You mean like the Vikings?" My brows rose in surprise.

"Yes, exactly. My mother was Norwegian. She had a brooch very similar to that one. I remember she took me to a festival when I was a little boy. There were many dressed as you are today. I remember..."

"That's nice, Mr. G, but we're having a private conversation, okay?" Bridget turned her back on him again, but I wasn't in such a hurry to brush him off.

"I want to hear what he has to say."

"Fine, but I warned you."

At first I chalked it up to her brusque manner, but after a couple of minutes I realized she was trying to save me from dying of boredom. Mr. Gutterman's walk down memory lane took a lot of twists and turns, and we doubled back a few times. By the time we got to the end of the road I wasn't in possession of many more facts beyond what we started with. The clothes and jewelry seemed to be Norse in design, and that was about it. After a while he talked himself out and lapsed into silence, snoring softly.

"Told ya," she grinned, eyes flashing playfully.

"Next time I'll listen," I returned her smile, scooting away from his bed. "Anyway, the guy down in the morgue freaked out when I woke up, and there was someone there from the coroner's office I think, they wanted to ask me a bunch of questions, and I sort of..."

"Bolted?"

"I didn't mean to. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but the door was right there, and I was still reeling from waking up like that. So, I took off and came here to find you."

"What do you think I can do? I'm not a doctor." There was open scorn in her voice, not directed at me; her opinion of doctors wasn't high. I have often questioned why she chose to work in the medical profession with such a bias, but she usually just swore and changed the subject. It was her way, and I'd long ago stopped taking offense over it.

"No, I know you're not a doctor, for Pete's sake. I'm in a hospital. There are doctors on every other floor if I wanted one. I came to you to help me figure out what to do next. Why, do you think I should see a doctor?"

"What for? Aren't they the ones that put you in the morgue in the first place?" She seemed skeptical. "What are you in for?"

"They said I died from blood loss and tissue damage on the neck." My hand automatically rose to touch my neck.

Her eyes widened enormously. "Shut up, are you kidding me right now?"

"No, I'm not kidding, why?" I blinked, not catching what she'd keyed in on.

"Come here, I wanna see something." Dragging me by the arm, she led me to the bathroom, snapping on the harsh, fluorescent lights. My other arm rose protectively to shield my eyes from the bright light as she pulled me in front of the sink.

"What are you looking for?" I asked when she stared in dismay at our reflections in the mirror. "Blecch, I look awful," I scowled at myself, taking in the dried blood crusted in the underside of my hair.

"I can see you," she sighed dejectedly.

"Yes, and I look awful." The artificial light made my skin sallow, and there were dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.

"I guess you're not a vampire then."

"Was that a concern?" I laughed, more than a little amused at her expression in the mirror.

"Oh come on, don't tell me that's not what you were thinking too. Blood loss... neck trauma... it's got vampire attack written all over it."

"Okay, A - I don't believe in vampires. B, I'm pretty sure you have to drink their blood to turn into one. And C, it depends on the reality you're going for, some vampires have a reflection the same as anybody else."

"Yeah, that kind of sounds like you believe in vampires," she snickered, and I admit, I have read my fair share of vampire novels. I even had friends who liked to dress up and play vampire games once a month on the full moon. I tried to point out once that the full moon didn't have any bearing on vampire lore, but they ignored me. "Maybe you did drink a vampire's blood and don't remember it?" She tried to force my mouth open and I slapped her hand away a little harder than I meant to.

"Eewh, I'm pretty sure that's the kind of thing I would remember."

"Why? You didn't remember playing dress up with a Viking stalker." She nursed her hand close to her body.

Bridget had a point, but it was one I didn't feel like acknowledging yet, so I changed the subject. "Do you think you can get me something to change into? This dress is making me itch, and I'm probably likely to attract less attention if I'm not dressed like a zombie."

"Yeah, no prob," she agreed readily enough. "I'll be right back."

While she was gone, I took the opportunity to study myself a little closer in the mirror. I wasn't used to seeing myself so clearly in the mirror without my glasses, especially when I looked like hell. Sure enough, other than being a little crusty, my neck showed no sign of trauma at all. Could there have been a mistake? Were my records switched with Jane Doe number six? I filched one of Mr. Gutterman's hand towels and swabbed off my neck and hair the best I could, the bloody water grossing me out a little as it ran down the drain.

Bridget barged in a few minutes later with another set of scrubs, identical to the ones she wore. I tried not to think about the fact that I wasn't wearing any underwear under the costume, that was too creepy to dwell on. While I was at it, I decided to wash my face and I felt better afterwards. Dressed like any other worker in the hospital, I felt almost human again.

"Cool, you look like you could pass for the rest of my shift. How about you take over and I sneak out for a smoke?" she teased as soon as I emerged from Mr. Gutterman's room.

I ignored the question, never thinking for a moment she was serious, though her job didn't seem all that complicated. "Is it always this quiet here?"

"Usually, unless one of the monitors goes off. For the most part it's making sure nobody dies and everybody takes their medicine on time. The real nurses make their rounds mid-shift, other than that I'm pretty much on my own up here until break times."

"Do you think I could hang out with you for the rest of your shift?" I steeled myself for the roll of the eyes or the snort I expected from her. Instead she looked at me, really looked at me for once.

"Are you afraid to go home?" There wasn't a trace of laughter or judgment in her tone, it sounded like she really wanted to know.

"Well, kind of. I mean that's the last thing I remember, being at home. Whatever happened to me, that's where it started."

"Why don't you talk to the cops then? Have them come over and check the place out, make sure it's safe?"

I wasn't sure why, but that sounded like a bad idea. I'd never been afraid of the police before, I'd been raised to believe you went to them for help, but something kept me from wanting to involve them. I could have called my sister, but I didn't want to drag her out of bed in the middle of the night either.

"I'm sure they'll track me down at some point, they had my name after all. But I can't deal with that tonight. Couldn't I stay here with you? I'll stay out of the way, I promise. I'll even help out if you want. I can pass out water cups with the best of them," I smiled entreatingly. I was pretty sure she was about to shoot me down with a cutting remark when she did something almost unheard of. Bridget volunteered for secret option number three without being asked.

"How about I take my lunch break, and drive you home? We'll check the place out together and once we know it's safe, I'll come back to work?" she offered without batting an eye. Just when you start to think you know a person...

"That would be great. Do you have enough time to do that?"

"Eh, Ricardo owes me a break. I covered for him last month when his girlfriend showed up on his lunch. Let's just say they took way more than an hour. It'll be fine, let me make a call and we can go."

All of a sudden we had a plan of action, and that coupled with the clean clothes had me feeling better than I had all night. I got the bloody costume bagged up in a mesh bag from the lost and found, and the stretchy booties they had to put over your feet made it almost seem like I was wearing shoes if no one looked too closely.

Before I knew it, we pulled up in front of our apartment, the darkened street completely deserted at the late hour. The apartment was set in a three story row house, each house identical in shape as its neighbor on our street, as far as the eye could see.

The paint colors and trim gave them each their own unique character. Our yellow house with white trim wasn't particularly nice or run down; it blended in perfectly with its buddies. Our apartment was on the top floor with the bonus of a small roof deck for our own particular use. It made for great stargazing (me) or parties (Bridget) and boasted a terrific view. Being on the third floor was great for privacy, our neighbors below were quiet as churchmice. Not so much fun when lugging groceries up the stairs though.

The place was originally Bridget's. I moved in about six months before, when I needed a place to stay after giving up my student housing to move in with Trent, a fellow student at CCA. Bridget and I met when we realized we were both dating Trent, and she decided it would be fun to burn all of his stuff on the very day I showed up with my rented U-haul. I've never been sure why she took me in that day. I was nothing to her, and she'd never been particularly outwardly generous, but that's how I knew she had a good heart. She just didn't like to cop to it very often.

Her fearless demeanor came in handy that night. I don't think I could have walked into our apartment so boldly, but she strolled right in, flipping on every light switch she came in contact with until the entire apartment blazed with light. Everything seemed harsh and bright to my sensitive eyes, and I fought the urge to turn them all off behind her. Only fear of what might lurk in the shadows kept me from doing it.

When our circuit of the apartment was finished, we stood inside my room, which looked undisturbed except for the covers on my bed. In general I make my bed every morning by force of habit. Whatever had me leaving it in the middle of the night hadn't given me time to make it before I left.

"Well, it all looks fine to me, the windows are locked up tight, and there's no sign of anyone jimmying open the front door. Maybe you left the apartment and got jumped out there somewhere?" Bridget shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as I sank onto the edge of the bed.

"Who knows?" It all started to have that surreal, dreamlike quality to it, as if it had happened to someone else.

"I have to get back to work, are you gonna be alright?"

"Yes, of course. I'll be fine," I waved away the rare moment of concern on her part. "I'm just going to get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, I'll tell you what..." She rooted around in her purse for a few minutes, coming up with a hot pink little canister. "If anyone busts in here, hit them with this right in the face and they'll be all 'ahhh, my eyes, I'm blind!' then you can kick them in the balls and make a break for it," she grinned.

I accepted the miniature sprayer with dubious care, thinking I was more likely to accidentally spray myself with it, the way my luck was going. "Thanks, I'll hang onto it."

"Call me if anything weird happens though, I'll come home. All I need is like one tiny excuse to leave that stupid job."

"Thanks, Bridge, I really do appreciate you doing this for me," I gave her a grateful smile and she nodded brusquely.

"Okay cool, whatever. Laters."

Once she was gone, I changed into a set of my soft, comfy pajamas, noting that I couldn't find the ones I remembered putting on earlier that night. I also couldn't find my purse, which meant I'd have to deal with calling the bank in the morning and getting a new driver's license. Fantastic. Borrowing from Scarlett O'Hara, I decided to worry about it another day. There was already too much pressing in on my mind at the time. It was late, far later than I usually stayed up, and I was so sleepy.

Only I couldn't bring myself to get into bed and close my eyes.

Resigning myself to the fact that I'd probably end up spending the entire night awake, I curled up on the couch with my soft, plush blanket (the one I got from my sister for Christmas with purple faeries all over it) and picked up a book. I figured I might as well get some assigned reading done and kill two birds with one stone. After finding the perfect sideways position on the couch that afforded me a good look at the front door and the bay window to the street, I settled in to read.

Before too long I noticed a smell in the air... heavy grease from fast food, maybe last night's dinner, that made my stomach twist with revulsion. It was strong enough to dislodge me from my faerie cocoon and send me into the kitchen to investigate. The smell grew stronger as I got closer to the kitchen and I spotted one of the wrappers tossed carelessly next to the garbage can. Holding my breath, I picked up the wrapper and threw it away, but the smell lingered. Forced to set the garbage can outside, I waited for a few minutes, breathing shallowly through the top of my pajamas, before I risked another sniff. Luckily, the smell gradually faded, only to be replaced with something else... something tantalizing.

Sharp hunger sliced through my middle, and I nearly doubled over at the sensation, clutching the kitchen counter until it faded. All of a sudden I was ravenous, and made a beeline for the fridge, pulling it open a little harder than I'd intended, the bottles rattling from the force of the movement. Rapidly, my eyes scanned the contents, but I couldn't spot what it was that was tempting my senses. Leftover pizza? Too greasy. Cold cuts? Closer... but not quite right. Macaroni and cheese? Ugh... no thanks. What was it?

Before I could dig any deeper, a knock sounded at the front door.

Chapter Three

I froze in front of the refrigerator as the knock reverberated through the room. Who could possibly be knocking at that time of night? With a twist of fear, I realized I'd left Bridget's little pink can on the coffee table, and scurried back to scoop it up. Clutching the weapon, I approached the door cautiously, leaning up to look through the peep hole. A man stood on the other side, checking something on his cell phone. While I watched, he reached out and knocked again, a little harder that time, and I jumped in spite of seeing it coming.

"Open up for chrissakes..." I clearly heard him mutter through the door, sounding vaguely irritated. Did murderers get annoyed when their victims didn't open up? He didn't look much like a murderer, not that I had a whole lot of experience with criminals at that point in my life.

My gentleman caller had short, spiky, dark hair and a lot of unshaven stubble that might have been meant to be a beard, though I couldn't see much of his face. His shoulders were at my eye level, so he was definitely over six feet tall. He was dressed in dark clothes with a leather motorcycle jacket. Not a rebel, biker bar kind of jacket, but the kind of guy who rode an expensive racing bike.

All at once I decided I was being ridiculous. A guy like that could probably break the door down if he really wanted to, and I had my mace. He might not even be looking for me at all.

Unbolting the door, I propped it open a crack, relieved when he didn't lunge towards me. "Can I help you?" My voice sounded raspy to my ears, as if I needed a drink, and I cleared my throat.

"I'll need to see your license and registration." His voice was deep, but he sounded bored, like it was a routine question he'd already asked twenty times that night. He looked up then and I noticed he had the most intense green eyes I'd ever seen. Maybe they looked extra green in contrast to the dark fringe of lashes that framed them (Bridget would kill for lashes that naturally thick). The rest of him was just as appealing, from the strong jaw to the broad shoulders, despite the need of a shave. Too bad he looked at me like I was the least interesting part of his day.

And then something in his face changed as his eyes locked with mine, surprise clearly etching his features. I started to get a little self-conscious as he stared back at me. I knew I looked like hell after the night I'd had, but was it really that bad?

"What?" I asked finally, having completely forgotten he'd asked me something and was probably waiting for my response. My question seemed to derail his train of thought and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, finally looking away from me.

"Nothing. Do you have your papers?"

"Papers..." Oh right, he'd asked for my license and registration, that made him a cop and probably explained the boredom and the intense scrutiny. "I'm sorry, I don't have any of that. I don't have my purse. You're here to investigate what happened? Come on in, Detective..." I stood back from the door, giving him enough room to pass.

His head tilted to one side as he regarded me closely again with an inscrutable expression on his face. "Bishop," he replied succinctly, stepping into the living room. Instead of taking a seat, he made a slow circuit around the apartment, though I wasn't sure what he was looking for.

I decided not to let him rattle me. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or something? I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight," I offered, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for me talk to the cops in my pj's.

"You think?" That earned me a half smile, as I'd clearly amused him. "No, I'm good. If you don't have your papers here, where are they?" he pressed, picking up a piece of sheet music from the table by the window.

"I have no idea. Didn't they tell you? Oh, I guess not, I didn't say much at the morgue. I can't remember anything about tonight."

At the mention of the morgue, Bishop lost interest in the décor and returned his focus back to me. "What did you tell them at the morgue?" His eyes narrowed and I felt like I was under one of those bright lights of interrogation like you see in old movies.

"Not much, I had more questions than they did. They told me how I'd been brought in and that I'd... died, or at least they thought I had, and that was about it."

"And they let you go?" His tone made it clear he found that hard to believe and a rush of guilt flooded me for running out on my civic responsibility.

"I sort of skipped out... I'm sorry! It's nothing personal, I didn't feel like a whole lot of questions tonight. I didn't mean for you to have to track me down like this."

His brows drew together into a single dark line that stemmed more from confusion than any anger over my response. "Maybe we should go back and start at the beginning."

"The beginning, right," I took a deep breath, settling onto the end of the couch. Trying to be as thorough as possible, I took him back to what I remembered from the moment I woke up in the morgue, leaving out Bridget's involvement, since I didn't want her to get in trouble for leaving work. I didn't tell him about the odd things like my sensitivity to sound and light, or the change in my vision, but it was pretty hard to keep the fact that my neck was completely healed from him. I expected him to ask me more about it when I was done, but instead he gave me another irritated look.

"Okay, I get it. That's a great cover story, and you've got the whole wide-eyed innocent thing down pat. But I'm with the Order, so..."

"So..." I stared back at him blankly. Was I supposed to know what that meant? Was it a special tactical team within the police department? "I really don't know what else I can do. I've told you everything I know."

Bishop sank down on the opposite end of the couch, rubbing his face with both hands tiredly. "You could stop wasting my time and get me your license and registration," he sighed.

What was with his obsession with those documents? Wasn't he listening to me? He looked so down though, I started to feel bad for him. Maybe it was one of those cop rules he had to check up on, or his report would be incomplete? "Can't you pull up my driver's license on your computer and see that I'm really me? I don't actually have a car, so no vehicle registration."

His hands came away from his face, a new look of resolve replacing the fatigue. "Let's try something else. Where's your sponsor?"

"Sponsor?" I blinked.

"Let me guess, you don't remember him either." Bishop's eyes closed and I fancied I heard something akin to a whispered prayer cross his lips, but I didn't recognize the words.

"I don't even know what you mean by sponsor." Didn't they have sponsors in AA? "I'm not an alcoholic," I frowned. Did he think I was on drugs?

"I didn't..." He pressed his lips together, thinking better of what he'd been about to say.

"Look, I'm sorry. I wish I could be more help, Detective Bishop. Believe me, I want to figure out what happened to me even more than you do. I'm hoping my memory comes back after the shock wears off a little. I guess I should go see a doctor tomorrow," I frowned. That meant I'd have to skip my morning classes.

"No doctors..."

"No doctors? Why not?"

"Oh for the love of..." he pressed a fist to his mouth and I thought he might really lose his temper, but then his eyes widened, focusing on my hand intently. Quicker than my eye could track, he reached out and snatched up my hand, inspecting the ring on my finger. "Where did you get this?"

For a moment I was too distracted by the feel of his hand over mine. There we were on my couch, and the sexiest cop I'd ever seen was holding my hand and hanging onto my every word. Things like that never happened to me, and I started to really regret not having taken a shower or brushing my hair after the ordeal at the hospital. Those cool green eyes kept looking at me expectantly though, and I remembered belatedly he'd asked me a question.

The odd thing was, before he pointed it out, I hadn't even noticed I was wearing it. The ornate silver ring held a smooth amber cabochon. "Oh... I didn't even realize I had this on. He must have put it on me along with the other stuff."

"He who?"

"I told you, I don't remember. Whoever put me in all the other weird Viking clothes. It's pretty though, isn't it?" I admired it openly, fingers tracing over the foreign symbols carved into the band.

"You didn't mention anything about Viking clothes before," his voice sounded strange, and I tore my gaze away from the ring to look back at him.

"I thought you knew. They said in the hospital report I was wearing a costume, so I thought you'd already know about that part. I told you I changed, remember? Why, is that important?"

"Where are these Viking clothes now? Do the police have them?"

"No, they're in my bedroom."

"Get them." His eyes blazed with intensity, and I lost the urge to complain over the rude tone of the request. Obviously it was important, or he wouldn't be so eager to get his hands on them.

"Alright, hold on a second, I'll be right back." I rose to retrieve the bag of bloody clothes, more than a little disconcerted when he stood up and started to follow me to my room. "It'll only take a second," I frowned, but he kept coming. Writing it off as a cop thing, I let him follow me if he wanted to, glad my room wasn't a pig sty like Bridget's. Once we got there, he shouldered past me, going right to the mesh bag next to the closet door without being told where it was. I watched as Bishop pulled the clothes out, rolling the fabric through his fingers and studying the brooches with interest. When he lifted them to his nose for a deep sniff, I started to get a little weirded out. "Um... Detective?"

Another knock sounded at the front door, and both our heads swiveled on cue. I turned back to ask him if I should answer it and he was gone. The flutter of air coming in through the window gave the only sign of where he'd disappeared to. "You have got to be kidding me," I murmured in the empty room. The knock came again, and I turned my back on the bedroom, scooping up the can of mace for comfort.

That time I decided to be a little smarter about it. "Who is it?"

"The police. Sorry to disturb you so late, I'm looking for an Anja Evans?"

Peeking through the peep hole, most of the view was blocked by a badge, but I could see the man's blonde hair and white teeth as he smiled at the door as if posing for a camera. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a 49'ers jacket.

I cracked the door open a few inches. "You don't look much like a cop," I said carefully, mace still at the ready.

"How about this? Does this make you feel better?" He freely offered the leather badge holder with his identification behind plastic.

I ran my fingers over the ID, thinking I had no idea what a real police badge should look like, or how hard it would be to counterfeit. It was a plus on his side that he'd showed one though, and I mentally kicked myself for not asking Bishop for any form of identification. According to the ID, his name was Detective Andrew Lucas.

"So, do I pass the inspection? Can I come in or do you want to give your neighbors more to talk about?" he grinned.

"Sorry," I handed the badge holder back, stepping back to let him in. Once he passed by, I noticed he had my purse tucked under his arm. "Oh, you found my purse! Is everything still inside?" Half afraid I'd find the contents missing, relief swept over me when I found the wallet intact with my license and debit card still in place.

"How else would I have found you? You weren't exactly Little Miss Information down at the hospital." His mild reproach was tempered by a playful edge.

"Where did you find it?" Belatedly, I realized I had no idea where I'd been picked up from by the ambulance. There had to have been other clues at the crime scene. Maybe the police already knew who had attacked me? "Did you catch the guy who kidnapped me? Is he in jail?"

"Whoa, one question at a time. Boy, they were right. You're nowhere near a corpse are you? Do you think I could get a couple of questions in myself? Just for the record?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized automatically. "But um, shouldn't you check Detective Bishop's report?"

"Ah, Detective Bishop's report..." he repeated, his brows rising slightly. "And that would be...?"

"You don't have a Detective Bishop, do you?" I already knew the answer before asking the question; I'd known it the instant he slipped out the window. And here I'd let him into my home! How stupid could I be?

Lucas shook his head along with me. "Not that I know of, and I'm pretty sure that's a name I'd remember. You already gave your statement to this Bishop person?"

"Yes, he left right as you got here. I told him everything I remember, which isn't much. But he did take the bloody clothes I was found in when he left." I omitted the part where he disappeared out the window.

"That's... gonna hurt the case," Lucas frowned, the first serious expression I'd seen from him so far. "I was hoping to take those back with me to forensics."

"I'm sorry, I thought he was with the police." Hopefully I hadn't jeopardized my chances at finding the guy responsible.

"He looked more like a cop than I did?" he asked mildly.

"What? Oh, he did I suppose, though more like an undercover cop I guess. He looked like he could be..." The memory of those intense green eyes swam before my vision for a fleeting moment. The way he walked and the complete authority with which he'd asked for information. I hadn't questioned for a moment that he wasn't perfectly entitled to it. The edge to his voice had made me instinctively want to give him what he was looking for rather than face the consequences. "...formidable, you know?"

"Formidable, got it." He made a show of writing the word down. "We're gonna need a little more of a description to go on though," he added dryly.

I gave him the best description I could, walking him through the story. That time I added the parts Bishop asked me about, namely the license and registration, and his interest in the clothes. "Do you think he was involved?" Somehow I couldn't bring myself to think he was the person who attacked me. He'd seemed as confounded over my memory loss as I was, more maybe. That, and despite his brusque manner, I never felt an ounce of danger from Bishop the whole time he was in my apartment. Sure, it got a little weird at the end with him sniffing my clothes, but I never felt afraid of him. Boy, was I naïve...

"Well, he's obviously involved in some aspect, why else would he show up at your door in the middle of the night? But was he the kidnapper?" Lucas shrugged. "It's hard to say. We'll do our best to track him down and get him to answer a few questions of our own."

"This has been the strangest night," I murmured, looking down at the ring on my finger, twisting it around and around.

"This is one for the books alright. It's not every day I get the chance to interview a murder victim." His grin was back. "I'm glad you're alright, by the way. Did they say at the hospital what led them to pronounce you as dead? I thought you had a pretty bad injury on your neck," he frowned, and my hand instinctively rose to cover my unblemished neck.

"I didn't stick around long enough to find out. It must not have been all my blood though, I'm fine, really." I don't know how, but I knew it was a lie, even as I said it. It had been my blood and no one else's on the dress, and I should have a wound on my neck. Just like I shouldn't have been able to see without my glasses, but instinct made me downplay it.

"Still, you should probably get checked out, I can give you a ride if you like."

No doctors... Bishop's words echoed through my mind, and despite his sketchy exit, I still found it to be sound advice. "No, thank you. I really want to get some rest, but I'll make an appointment tomorrow. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more to go on, but it's all a blank. What can you tell me about where I was found?"

Detective Lucas hesitated, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he decided how much to tell me about it. "It was an abandoned house, the call came in that there were multiple shots fired, but you were the only one on the scene when the uniforms arrived."

"Shots fired," I frowned, frustration mounting at continually coming up against the blank wall of my memory block. "Where is it? Maybe if I could go back there, it might jog my memory?" It sounded like as good a plan as any, but he was already shaking his head, no.

"I don't think that's such a good idea with all you've been through tonight."

"Detective, I have to find out what happened to me. That guy is still out there somewhere, and I have no idea how he got to me. For all I know, I could fall asleep here in my own bed, he could strike again whenever he wants, and I might end up really dead this time."

"Alright, I'll tell you what. Here's my card. If you remember anything at all, give me a call, okay? I've got some other leads to check out for this guy, but if we hit a dead end, I promise I'll take you to the crime scene. Deal?"

I accepted the card, glancing briefly at it before setting it in the front pocket of my purse. I wasn't too happy at being turned down, but another option occurred to me. "Alright," I conceded. "It's a deal. But only if you call me the moment you catch him." Not that I had a lick of leverage to bargain with him, so I added the only thing I could think of, my heartfelt plea. "Please?"

Detective Lucas pulled open the front door, an easy smile on his face. "There's nothing to worry about, Miss Evans. I promise you, we'll catch the guy. Better lock up after me though."

I slid the bolt after he'd gone, only realizing then that I hadn't mentioned the ring to him at all in my retelling of the conversation with Bishop. The thought of calling him back didn't appeal to me at all. Somehow it felt wrong to let go of the ring, even if it was evidence in his investigation. Staring at the ring on the way back to the couch, I set my purse on my lap to check it more thoroughly. Nothing appeared to be missing, and my phone still had a charge. I pulled up Bridget's number, knowing she'd still have it on despite the hospital rules.

"What's the matter, do you need me to come home?" Bridget's voice fairly crackled with excitement and I almost hated to let her down.

"No, it's totally fine. I had a couple of visitors, but I can tell you all about them later."

"Tell me now, I'm bored out of my skull," she insisted, and I spent the next fifteen minutes chatting with her about my two very different guests. She seemed especially interested in Bishop, and I had to admit, his odd behavior did have me wondering if I'd ever see him again. But I forced myself to get back to the original reason for calling her.

"Hey, I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"Is it illegal?"

"Well... I'm not sure about that, it's definitely against the rules," I qualified, not knowing the exact legality involved.

"Yeah? I'm in, what is it?"

"I was wondering if you could find out from the hospital records if it shows where the ambulance picked me up from tonight?"

"Yep, I can get that off the trip sheet. But it'll probably take a day or so for it to be entered into the computer. It'll probably be faster to call the ambulance company directly."

I brightened at that, feeling like I was on the trail to getting some answers. "I didn't think of that, how do I know which ambulance company responded?"

"That's a good question, depending on where you came in from, it could be AMR or NorCal, or a couple of others. You can either wait a day or two for it to show up in the records, or start calling ambulance companies from the phone book."

"Okay, thanks, Bridge. I think I'll make some calls tomorrow."

"No prob. Just let me know if you want me to go all secret agent on your records," she offered, and I resisted the urge to thank her again, knowing it wasn't her thing.

After I'd hung up, I curled back up on the couch again with my faerie blanket, the pink can of mace tucked between the cushions within easy reach. I didn't think I'd sleep a wink for the rest of the night, but eventually exhaustion wore out and I found myself dreaming of a certain pair of green eyes.

Chapter Four

I have always been something of a morning person. I craved the sunshine with its warmth and light, and I always felt better when my skin held a nice healthy tan. The early bird gets the worm was my motto, even during the summer months when I didn't have to get up quite so early for school.

But the next morning I felt like death warmed over. Sure, I expected to be tired from being up for most of the night, and the position I'd fallen asleep in on the couch wasn't the most comfortable, but that didn't explain why I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. It wasn't that I felt stiff and sore all over; I felt completely drained, as if I'd come down with the flu. Maybe I'd picked up a bug at the hospital?

Even the light hurt my eyes, and I rooted around for a pair of sunglasses after closing all the blinds in the apartment. Food sounded like a bad idea, but coffee was appreciated, and after using up all the hot water in the shower, I managed to get dressed for school in time for my eleven o'clock class.

The Central Coast Academy of Fine Arts boasts a wide assortment of classes designed to turn out some of the country's premiere talents in music and art. I'd gotten in on a scholarship for Voice, something which brought enormous pride to my parents. Growing up, my parents had always been fairly restrictive. My mother was a high school music teacher and my father taught elementary mathematics in Santa Clara where I grew up.

As a child I took piano, guitar, singing, even dance lessons for one brief summer before it became clear it was not my forte, before focusing on voice. I'd always been taught that school came first, and even though I had an aptitude for music at an early age, it was never an excuse to turn in less than my best efforts at the academic classes as well. It turned me into kind of a perfectionist, which drove Bridget up the wall sometimes. And remember what I said before about the reputation as something of a book nerd? It came from being forced to carry around the classics, even when they weren't on the assigned reading list. My mother thought it would broaden me, but what it really did was narrow my social scope.

But at the CCA, I found other kindred spirits who'd rather be singing in four part harmony to dead languages than going to the beach or shopping, and I finally felt like I'd found my place in life. Okay, so maybe sometimes I wished we would focus on something a little more contemporary, but I was firmly on the classical path, with an eventual career in choral music or possibly even Jazz on my horizon. Most days I was happy with that path, and it was easier to put one foot in front of the other than wander away and risk losing my footing altogether.

But not that morning.

That day it was acutely painful to be around the other students on campus. The halls seemed too clogged with bodies, the laughter too shrill, and the music... While I normally found missed notes a little painful to my well trained ear, that morning they were positively excruciating. The cloying smell of perfumes and body sprays and stale smoke... they made my already sensitive stomach lurch, and I quickly lost any ability to focus in class.

I'd seen Bridget in the same state plenty of times after a night of too many excesses, and now I sincerely regretted my lack of empathy. The next time I saw her hung over, I vowed to turn off all the lights and be as quiet as possible. Only why did I feel as though I'd partied like a rock star the night before, when I'd felt fine when I went to sleep?

My biggest mistake was in trying to eat at lunch time. Despite the nausea, I couldn't shake the feeling like I had to eat something. It wasn't so much a growling stomach as a sharp hunger, a craving I couldn't quite pin down. It led me to the snack stand by the auditorium to try and find something to tempt my fancy. The smell of cooking hamburgers made my mouth water, and all of a sudden I was ravenous. I wolfed down the burger in thirty seconds flat, washing it down with a Diet Coke. The feeling of satisfied fullness only lasted about five minutes before the pain started, stomach cramps strong enough to make me break out in a sweat, and I barely made it to the ladies room in time before it came back up again.

Sitting on the floor of the bathroom stall, my cheek pressed against the cool metal wall, I closed my eyes as my body shook weakly. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I put my hand to my neck to feel my pulse. I felt the throb beneath my finger and then....waited, waited, waited... for far too long before the next weak pulse. This must be what dying feels like... The shot of adrenaline that went through me at that thought sped my heart up for a beat or two and then it slowed again. I had to get out of that bathroom and find some help, but my limbs wouldn't obey me. To my growing horror, I felt that same paralyzing heaviness take hold of my body that I'd felt in the morgue. And then it didn't matter anymore as I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

When I woke up with a start, it was much later in the day. I wasn't sure at first how I knew that, but checking the time, I found I'd been asleep for more than three hours. The good news was, I had full control over my arms and legs, no sign of paralysis. Apart from a throbbing headache, I felt better, but I was still far from normal. Despite Bishop's warning against doctors, I decided to visit the school infirmary, if only to have a place to lie down for a while before I braved the walk home. There was no way I'd make it to my one on one with Professor Wright, but I didn't think I could manage to walk and text my apologies at the same time without getting dizzy.

The infirmary was understaffed as usual. Not that there were that many students looking for medical care at once, but the harried receptionist was more than happy to let me lie down in one of the rooms with the understanding that it could be a while before the nurse practitioner got to me.

As I lay there, I realized I could hear the conversation in the examination room next to me as plainly as if I was in the room with them. The nurse listened to the student talk about his worsening cough and other symptoms. I even fancied I could hear the wheeze of air through his lungs as he took several deep breaths for her. Had the walls always been that thin? Losing interest with that exchange, I let my mind wander and picked up another conversation with the receptionist on the phone down the hall, making a call to the pharmacy. There was no way I should have been able to hear her at the front desk. I could tell she spoke in hushed tones, but I still heard her, clear as a bell.

Another stomach cramp doubled me over, and I braced myself for a round of dry heaves, but instead, I felt almost hungry as soon as it passed. Someone must have brought their dinner with them, because the most delicious aroma wafted through the air, drawing me to my feet in search of it. No longer feeling weak, I cracked the door open, tracking the scent to another room, the door only open about an inch or so. Not able to hold myself back, I had to see whatever it was they were eating and find out where I could get some for myself. I pushed the door open, surprised to find it deserted. So where was the delicious, tempting treat luring me through the halls?

My eyes lit upon a plastic bowl on the counter, whatever it was, the delectable smell seemed to be coming from there. Mouth watering, I leaned forward, only to recoil in distaste when I realized the tantalizing smell came from a wad of bloody bandages left behind from the last patient. Oh God... what was wrong with me? Suddenly I knew I had to go before the nurse got to me. Tucking on my sunglasses, I ducked out of there, not even bothering to let the receptionist know I was leaving.

The sun was less painful, lower in the sky, but I kept the glasses on while I walked home, deep in thought. Since waking up in the morgue, I'd been experiencing sensitivity to light and sound, enhanced sense of smell, my eyes and ears were sharper, and I hadn't been able to keep any solid food down. I had 'died' of blood loss from a neck wound, and risen that same night without a trace of the injury. It no longer felt like I was coming down with the flu, I felt... wrong. I felt... hungry, desperate for something I couldn't identify.

Yes, you can...

I shoved away the inner voice reminding me that I knew exactly what I was craving, because it was too horrible to admit, even inside my head.

My body craved blood.

Chapter Five

Contrary to what it might sound like from my strong opinions on vampire lore, I didn't believe vampires were real. Oh sure, there were the goth vampire wannabes that drank blood laced wine out of ornate pewter goblets and called themselves names like Lord Drake or Mistress Belladonna. But real vampires? That was fiction, not fact. More than a little spooked, common sense tried to reassert itself, my mind scrabbling for something a little more reassuring.

Fact – I was still walking around during the day, though the sun did bother me quite a bit.

Fact – I had a reflection like anyone else.

Fact – I still had a pulse... though it was so slow, I could hardly call it normal by human standards anymore.

Okay, so my facts were starting to depress me. Suddenly I felt like the supernatural was taking over my body. The only spot of comfort was in the fact that the mild exercise of walking home did me good, and I felt much stronger by the time I turned onto my street.

I had almost convinced myself I was blowing things out of proportion when I spotted him, the one person who might have the answers I searched for. The trouble was, I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him.

Bishop stood waiting outside my apartment in the shade of the front porch. As I slowed my approach warily, he removed his dark glasses, squinting as he addressed me with a polite smile. "Miss Evans, I wondered if I could have a few more minutes of your time? We weren't able to conclude our business yesterday."

I stared at him, floored by the gall of the man. As if I would pick up where we left off the night before after he'd disappeared out the window. "Are you kidding me? I know you're not a cop," I tossed out, slipping past him to open the outer door to the building.

"I never said I was a cop, you did," he pointed out, following right behind me as if invited. I stopped on the bottom stair, blocking him from going any further.

"But you didn't correct me. What kind of a person does that?" Bishop did little more than shrug, and I realized that was all I was going to get by way of apology. "I want those clothes back by the way, the real police need them for evidence."

"That's not going to happen," he scoffed. "Listen, it's getting late. How about we go upstairs and continue our conversation?" He was obviously trying to be the voice of reason, but I had no intention of doing anything he asked.

"How gullible do you think I am? You expect me to invite you into my apartment again?" My brows rose incredulously. I've been accused of being naïve in the past, and I admit I was foolhardy for letting him in once, but I learn from my mistakes.

"You already invited me once, that's good enough for me." Bishop smiled as if we shared a private joke.

"You don't seriously think I'm going to talk to you again, do you?" No sooner had I uttered the declaration, I found myself breaking my best intentions. "Who are you anyway? What do you have to do with any of this? Do you know who attacked me?"

For a moment Bishop looked like he regretted being there at all, but then his polite smile returned. "I'll tell you what, you answer my questions, and I'll consider answering yours."

"No deal," I frowned. "You'll do more than consider answering mine if I answer yours," I insisted indignantly, "or we're done with this conversation."

His face darkened, and Bishop seemed to swell bigger than his six foot plus frame as he loomed closer to me. My position on the stairs put me at eye level with him. "I'm not accustomed to being given ultimatums," he growled.

"Well neither am I!" I have no idea where the nerve to stand up to him came from, but I found myself staring back, my chest tight from the breath I held. Had I said before I didn't feel any threat from him? Danger radiated off of him in waves, making my skin break out in goosebumps, but somehow I found the strength to stand my ground.

Instead of throttling me, or any number of unpleasant things he could have done, he shook his head, muttering disgustedly as he turned away to leave. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"I'm sorry." My teeth caught at my lower lip as I sucked in a needed breath. I hadn't expected him to give up altogether, and a ribbon of panic sliced through me as I realized he was taking all of his answers with him. "Wait... Bishop, don't go. I'll answer your questions, just... please... Can you help me?" I thought he would ignore my plea, but instead he stopped in his tracks and I heard the whisper of words in a foreign language rush past his lips. I imagined they might be swear words, but I couldn't say for certain.

"You'll answer my questions? No song and dance this time?"

I hadn't done anything but be truthful to him so far, but I found myself nodding at his back. "I swear, I'll answer anything you want to know, God's honest truth."

"God's honest truth," he repeated, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a faint smile as he turned around. "That'll be a novel change."

"I'm not a liar, Mr. Bishop," I insisted crossly, tired of his insinuating I knew more than I let on. I couldn't help it if I was clueless, but I wasn't dishonest.

"It's just Bishop, Miss Evans, and I never called you a liar." The smile was a little more pronounced that time as he approached the bottom of the stairs.

"It's Anja." I started to feel encroached upon again, but it wasn't at all scary this time as he drew closer.

"Anja, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Bridget stood by the front door; I hadn't even noticed it open.

"This is just Bishop." I had trouble tearing my gaze away when he kept the focus of those mesmerizing eyes on mine, but I was the first one to break eye contact. "This is my roommate, Bridget."

"Come on up, Bishop," she invited without hesitation, dropping me a broad wink as she passed by. Bishop's eyes tracked the sway of her hips up the stairs and I scowled as I turned to scamper up behind her, leaving him to follow or stay behind, as he liked.

"Dude, he's hot!" Bridget hissed between her teeth at the door to our apartment.

"Shhh, he'll hear you," I whispered back.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he knows he's hot," she snorted, making no effort to lower her voice as she opened the door. I turned back to see if he was listening, gratified to see Bishop lagging behind on the stair, but the private smile on his lips was disconcerting.

"Ah, come on in," I invited him again, leaving him to close the door as I gathered up my fluffy blanket from the couch, folding it into a fat square.

"Well, I've got a date to get ready for, so you two are on your own," Bridget announced, disappearing into the hallway after a last amused look in my direction. I took a seat on the couch and gestured for him to join me if he liked, and Bishop sat beside me without exploring the apartment that time.

"I'm assuming that since you have all these questions, you haven't heard from him yet?"

"Heard from who?" Why did he always ask questions I had no idea how to answer?

"Isn't that game getting a little old?" His eyes narrowed.

"Bishop, I promise you, I'm not playing any games," I replied earnestly.

"Anja." He took my hand in his, the one with the amber ring and I looked down at our joined hands. "You're cutting things a little close, don't you think? The sun goes down in about two hours."

"What does that have to do with it?"

His brows drew together into a single dark line. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Haven't I been saying that all along?" I couldn't keep the exasperation from my voice. "I'm completely in the dark here. All I know is I haven't felt like myself since I died, and now... now I think I might be going crazy." I blinked away the tears that sprang unbidden, desperately trying to hold it together long enough to get some real answers.

"You're not crazy."

I almost believed him, he sounded so calm and rational. "You haven't heard my theories yet." My head fell forward in embarrassment, hair falling forward in a protective shield.

Bishop reached out to tip my head up by the chin, studying my features carefully as if he was looking for something. "I can guess."

"Motherfucker!" Bridget's voice rang through the apartment, loud enough to make me startle away from his touch. "Shit, Anja, can you come here a sec?"

"I'll be right back," I murmured, already rising to my feet, but Bishop caught my arm, holding me in place.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he said in a low voice.

"It's fine. She's a little melodramatic sometimes, I'm sure it's nothing. Um, feel free to help yourself to a soda or something from the kitchen if you want."

"Anja... we don't have time for this, you have some hard decisions to make."

I had no idea what he meant at the time, and looking back now, I wonder why he let me go. He could have easily stopped me if he wanted to. "I'll be right back, I promise." Pulling my hand gently from his grasp, I headed for the bathroom to see what Bridget needed. For all I knew, she needed to borrow some feminine hygiene products.

Pausing at the doorway, I caught sight of Bridget perched on the side of the bathtub, a bloody washcloth pressed to her hand. My hand clutched at the doorframe, hard enough to make one of my fingernails split, but I didn't care; all I could focus on was the growing crimson stain on the washcloth.

Bridget looked up impatiently. "Finally, I thought I was gonna bleed to death here. I dropped that stupid glass and cut the shit out of my hand." My head nodded slowly, but no words came as I clung to the doorway, fighting the urge to pounce. The blood was like a beacon, my eyes drawn to it, everything else blurring indistinctly.

"Hello, Earth to Anja... could you give me a hand with this?" Bridget pulled away the washcloth to reveal a nasty looking gash on the web between her thumb and forefinger, the blood instantly welling to the surface without the cloth to keep pressure on it.

"Of course." I nodded, my voice sounding hoarse as I picked up the bandage from the counter. The gauze trembled and fluttered in my grasp, and I swallowed as my mouth started to water. I took a step closer to her, and then another, arguing internally that if I got the Band-Aid on her, then I wouldn't have to see it anymore. Out of sight out of mind, right? I had enough self control to keep from attacking my friend... at least, that's what I told myself. Only the closer I got to her, the harder it was to resist the call of the blood.

"What's your deal, are you gonna help me or not?" she complained, no doubt confused by my hesitant approach. There was a sharp pain as I felt my teeth lengthen and sharpen. "Anja...? An... Holy shit..." Bridget gasped, and I knew what she was seeing. Half mortified, half stunned, we stared at each other across the bathroom. All at once I rushed her, lunging for the open wound and bringing it to my mouth, my sharp teeth tearing the tender skin, enlarging the blood flow.

Bridget screamed, but all I could think about was the delicious nectar my mouth was clamped down around. I had never tasted anything like it before, and in the years that followed, few experiences would match that first taste of blood. It transcended mere food to something more. I could feel the life force pulsing from her body into mine, giving me strength and fueling my lust for more. I knew with a certainty I could never be satisfied with a taste; I wanted all she had to give and more.

In a blur I was dragged away from the sweet oblivion of my feeding frenzy, barely conscious of being hauled over muscular shoulders and tossed onto my bed like a sack of potatoes. I opened my mouth to lash out at my attacker with my newfound weapon, but a cool hand clamped over my lips before I had time to even finish thinking about it.

Bishop's scowl appeared before me, fairly sparking with annoyance as he held me to the bed. The hand was instantly replaced by the butt end of a stuffed animal that tasted like moldy socks, and I thrashed violently, attempting to spit it out. In that moment, I wanted to tear him limb from limb for taking me from my feast. There was no recognition that what he was doing was for my protection or Bridget's. I had no thoughts for consequences, the call of the blood was too strong.

Call of the blood... I've often thought about the sway that it has over vampires. Even now it's hard to resist its pull, but back then at the first taste, I was little more than a ravening beast. There was no Anja, only a sharp, burning need to feed. I didn't give a damn about Bridget or what she must be going through. She could have been lying bleeding to death on the bathroom floor for all I cared, I only knew I wanted more.

While I was doing my best impression of a hell-cat trying to scratch his eyes out, Bishop retained that icy calm exterior, easily keeping me in place with one hand while he searched for what he wanted, making do with what was at hand. To my growing indignity, I found myself trussed up on my own bed, the stuffed animal bound to my mouth to keep me from making any sound. My eyes shot him daggers, the only defense I was allowed, and his face lit with a trace of amusement at that. I never wanted him more dead than in that moment, but he seemed only vaguely amused at my fury.

"There... now sit still, I have to go clean up your mess." His scowl was firmly in place as he looked down at me, surveying his handiwork.

My mess... he meant Bridget. The realization that he might truly leave me trussed up like that all night fueled my rage. I screamed impotently into the stuffed animal, my wrists and ankles straining against the clothes that bound me. All the while I wondered, who was this psycho and what would he do with me when he was done with Bridget? Did cleaning up my mess mean killing her? All my struggles did was make my wrists and ankles painfully raw. Soon that became the least of my problems as I began to shake uncontrollably from head to toe, my skin burning like it was on fire.

I lost some of my anger as fear began to set in. Maybe if I had known what to expect I might not have felt so out of control, my panic fueling the growing sensation that I was truly dying. I screamed against the gag in agony instead of rage, as I grew increasingly sensitive, painfully so. Sweat ran down my body in rivulets from the exertion of the transformation, and I began to wonder if it was possible to actually set my bedding on fire if my skin got hot enough.

And then he was there, gathering me into his arms. I shivered at the touch of his cool limbs, wondering if he was coming to kill me now, take care of this mess as he called it. At the time I didn't even care, I wanted the pain to stop. Even death would have been a blessing in the face of the all consuming fire that burned me from within.

My eyes grew blurry and unfocused as I shivered weakly in his arms, my body trying desperately to create even more heat to fight off the infection of vampirism. Dimly, I registered that he lifted me from the bed and carried me somewhere, and then I heard the sound of running water into the bathtub. All at once I felt him lower me into the cold water, clothes and all. I hadn't the presence of mind to object, all I could feel was the immediately soothing effects on my burning limbs.

Gradually I became aware that I was no longer tied up and the gag had been removed. Bishop spoke soothing words of comfort I couldn't quite make out, blended together all soft and sweet as he held me in his arms, bringing water to my brow. At one point I could have sworn that I heard him call me Carissa, but I was too tired and worn out to object. My whole world was the cocoon of his arms and the blessedly cool water that bathed my fevered flesh. I whimpered in response to his gentle murmurings, no longer having the strength to struggle or scream.

"Am I dying?" My voice was little more than a whisper.

"No, you're being reborn."

"I don't want to be reborn." Not if it meant I'd have to keep feeling like that.

"You should have thought of that before you chose to become a vampire." I thought I heard a smile in his voice, and I wanted to hit him in the worst way, even though he was helping me.

How long I lay in the shelter of his arms I'll never know, but at one point I looked up in wonder to see his cheeks wet with tears. Or was I mistaken? Had he merely rubbed his face with wet hands? Once Bishop noticed me looking at him, his expression unfathomable, I began to have my doubts.

"Welcome back," he said softly, and I fancied I saw a bit of relief behind his eyes. He looked different to me now, in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on. He looked... more. More everything, more handsome, more tired and drawn, as if everything about him was exaggerated. He'd always been an appealing man, but there was an irresistible lure to him now that made the air whistle softly through my teeth at my quick intake of breath.

"Hey..." I replied, my voice sounding strange to my ears. Not hoarse as I might have expected from all the screaming, but low and throaty, almost... sexy. I cleared my throat and scooted up higher in the tub, noticing I could tell how cold the water was, but it wasn't uncomfortable. There were no goosebumps on my skin and I wasn't shivering at all. "How long...?"

"Less time than you might think," he interrupted, disengaging himself to reach for a fluffy blue bath towel.

It had felt like an eternity, but I have often observed that as fleeting as pleasure can be, conversely, torture can go on endlessly. Stepping out of the bathtub, I allowed him to wrap me up as I dripped onto the bath mat. "Am I...?"

"Yep, you made it through the worst of it, welcome to the vampire club." A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rubbed at my wet skin with short efficient movements.

"The vampire club," I murmured dazedly. Would membership have its privileges? It was ironic that this happened to me. I was never a night person at heart, so you can see right off the bat why a vampire was the very last thing I would have chosen to be. All at once I realized I'd completely forgotten about my attack on Bridget, I was so wrapped up in my own drama. "Is she...?"

"She's fine. Dead to the world, as in sleeping the sleep of the innocent, not actually dead. She won't remember a thing in the morning," he assured me.

I waited for a moment to see if there was more forthcoming, but he seemed content to remain mute as he finished toweling me off. There was a curious sense of surrealism as he lifted one of my feet to gently dry off my toes. Here was this complete stranger, drying off my little piggies so I wouldn't slip and fall and break my neck. Not that it would have killed me anymore...

I cleared my throat again, pulling my foot from his grasp, a little unnerved by the innocent touch. "Will anything like that happen to me again?" I asked, with not a small amount of trepidation. If that was going to be a regular occurrence, I might as well go find a stake and be done with it.

"Like I said, the worst of it is over. You'll have an adjustment period while you get used to your new abilities. Your senses might go a little haywire from time to time, but nothing like what you went through tonight, I promise."

That was comforting. I wasn't sure I had the strength to go through something like that again. I didn't know how I would have survived without Bishop to bring me through it. Did all vampires experience such a thing? The way he'd known exactly how to care for me seemed to indicate they did.

"So, what happens now?" I asked, wringing my shirt out into the sink.

"You find your Sponsor, and get me your license and registration. Then you and your Sire can feast on your friend all you want, as long as you clean up your own mess from now on." He gave a half shrug, tossing the towel carelessly aside and leaning against the counter.

Ugh, there he went about the license and registration bit again. And what was that about my Sire? I was about as well read on vampires as the next girl, maybe moreso. I knew he meant the vampire that turned me into one, but I really had no idea who he was talking about. "I told you, I don't know who did this to me."

"He hasn't tried to contact you at all since we talked last night?"

"No, not a word. Honestly, you're the only one who keeps popping up in my life. Well, besides the police."

"It doesn't make sense." Bishop paced the length of the narrow bathroom. "Why wouldn't he show himself? You could have ended up feral if I hadn't happened to be here, or dead if you hadn't fed before sundown. Why go through all the trouble to turn you if he's willing to let you die?"

The news that I might have died if I hadn't tasted Bridget's blood eased some of the guilt, but I wish someone had told me that beforehand. "Maybe he would have shown up if you weren't here?"

"That's possible, he probably wouldn't have come if he knew the Order was involved," he allowed.

"Why not?"

"Because he obviously has something to hide. I'm guessing he didn't have the proper license for turning you or he wouldn't have run off like that. Letting you go to the morgue without intervening was a pretty serious infraction. He's either stupid and careless, or considers himself above the law. The Order takes that sort of thing pretty seriously."

I felt like I was only grasping half of the conversation. "What is this Order you keep mentioning?"

"The Order of Jacari. We uphold the laws, not that there are many between vampires. Our greatest duty is to mask our existence from the world and punish those that threaten to expose us."

So he was a cop of sorts... I guess my instincts hadn't been that far off, only it all was sounding more dangerous by the moment. "By punish you mean..."

"Exterminate."

I swallowed past the uncomfortable lump that rose in my throat. "So ah, what happens now?" I repeated, starting to grasp why the paperwork was so important to him. Paperwork I didn't have.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take you into custody until we can straighten this out." He didn't sound happy about it, but it was nothing compared to the anxiety that twisted my stomach into knots.

"Are you serious? You're taking me in to vampire jail?" I'd been a model citizen my entire life, I'd never so much as littered before, and now I was going to jail for something completely out of my control?

"I guess you could put it that way. I'm sure you'll prefer that to the alternative."

"Which is?"

"Unlicensed breeding is punishable by death." His lips compressed into a grim line.

"To the breeder or the breedee?" He didn't reply, and I had my answer when he couldn't meet my gaze. "Do you think that I could maybe get dressed first?" I gave him a tremulous smile.

"Of course," he nodded succinctly, stepping away from the door.

"I'll be right back." As I squeezed past him in the tight quarters, I prayed he didn't have any vampire mind reading powers, because I had no intention of coming right back. Once inside the sanctuary of my bedroom, I pulled on the nearest clothes I could lay my hands on, hardly caring if my shoes matched. All I knew was, if I went with him, I'd end up dead. Well, deader.

Fully dressed, but without the convenience of my purse or cellphone that sat out on the coffee table, I painstakingly eased up my window, not wanting to draw his attention. The ground below looked impossibly far away, but in theory I should be able to survive falling three stories, right? Like it or not, I was a vampire now, it was time to start using it to my advantage. Swinging my legs out over the windowsill, I jumped for my life.

Chapter Six

Bishop had no idea what he was doing. It was not a normal thing for him, not by a long shot. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gone so far off book. It was supposed to be a routine call. Check the girl's papers, fine her Sire for letting her turn up in the morgue pronounced as dead, and do what he did best - scare the hell out of him to keep him from ever getting sloppy like that again. So why was he standing in her living room holding her purse while she made herself pretty?

He wasn't used to letting a slip of a girl wind him around her little finger, but there was something about her... When she first opened the door the night before, she'd knocked him speechless. For a moment he almost thought he was seeing Carys again after so many years.

She wasn't, of course. They had the same long, golden hair, the same heart shaped face and her innocent, blue eyes were close. But her mouth was wrong, the lips too full, her smile too hesitant. Not that there was anything wrong with the girl's lips... why was he thinking about her lips again?

The Order always came first. He'd pledged his life too many years ago to count. For endless nights he'd upheld the laws, meting out justice as he saw fit. Bishop was more successful at it than most, because while he didn't have a love of violence, he recognized when it needed to be used without anger. He understood just how much pressure to apply. So while his first instinct was to try and protect Anja, his sense of duty led him to do the right thing. She had to be taken into custody. Let one go and you set a dangerous precedent. Wasn't that how he'd been trained? And if it became necessary to close those pretty, blue eyes forever? He would deal with it when the time came.

Speaking of time, he'd been more than generous in allowing her time to change into dry clothing. It wasn't as if she could catch a chill now, and where she was going there wasn't any need for fancy preparations.

Bishop set down her bag, approaching the bedroom door with a brief knock. "Miss Evans? I don't mean to be rude, but do you think you could hurry it up?" Nothing but silence greeted his ears, and he frowned as he rapped again. "Miss Evans?"

Instead of her meek little voice asking for more time as he half expected, his ears picked up an "oof" from much too far away. Privacy be damned, Bishop shouldered her door open, taking in the deserted room and going immediately to the open window. Damn it... if Mason heard about this he'd never hear the end of it.

Dropping to the street below, he watched as she loped off like a gazelle, her newly energized limbs propelling her faster than she had any right to move. She would have been a blur to human eyes, but Bishop tracked her easily, a little stunned at her speed and grace. Most newborns didn't master such speed for quite some time. He'd spoken too soon, Anja clearly hadn't learned control as she took a corner too broadly, careening into the side of a building hard enough to send a cloud of dust up at the crumbling mortar.

"That's got to hurt," Bishop winced in sympathy before he took off after her, anticipating an easy chase.

He was wrong.

There was nothing easy about the chase she led him on. The girl obviously knew the city well and used it to her advantage. Despite his superior strength and speed, Bishop had a hard time keeping her in his sights. If he hadn't known any better, he would have guessed her to be a much older vampire, certainly not a noob on her first run. But it wasn't his first rodeo either. Knowing how to anticipate his quarry's moves was a skill he'd learned well, and after following her for a while, he figured out how best to trap her.

Cutting sharply to the left, he abandoned the chase, diverting to the path he predicted she would take. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Anja turned into the alley and Bishop pounced, his momentum sending them both crashing to the ground. Anja struggled, arms and legs flailing until he pinned her with his body to keep her still. Even with his hands firmly securing her wrists, she continued to resist, her eyes scrunched tightly shut. She even managed to break one arm free, until Bishop slammed it back down against the pavement a little harder than he'd intended, and her expressive, blue eyes opened, a soft cry of pain issuing from the back of her throat.

All at once they both stilled, her body struggling to catch breath it didn't need, out of habit. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, and he felt like the worst bully for causing her pain.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." His eyes swept over her face, relieved when the sting of pain faded from her features, the damage fleeting. The fact that it bothered him in the first place was far more troublesome.

Anja blinked, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Please... let me go. Nobody has to know about me, do they?"

"That's not the point. This isn't a minor infraction, you and your Sire need to face the consequences of your actions."

"But that's just it, I didn't do anything! I didn't choose this life, or afterlife, or whatever you want to call it. If you want to punish someone, punish the guy who did this to me."

"I will, I just have to find him."

"So let's find him then, I'll help you," she nodded earnestly, as if he needed it.

"I don't need your help."

"Then how will you do it?"

Her lack of faith was irritating, but Bishop reminded himself that she didn't know much about him or the Order. "I'll start with where you were found, the police should be done with their investigation by now. It's time to bring my team in."

"You know where I was found?" she blinked.

"Give me some credit. I've been doing this for a long time."

"How long?"

"Long enough to recognize when someone is stalling me. Anja, I have to take you in." It surprised the hell out of him to find he wished it could be otherwise. Conscious of the fact that she felt soft beneath him and it had been far too long since he'd had a woman as appealing in his arms, he shifted uncomfortably. That just made it worse. Still, he made no move to get up yet, unable to leave the sweet torment.

"Bishop, please, don't make me pay for something he did. Let me help you find him, and if he has broken your laws... then I'll pay the consequences."

How many times had another pair of blue eyes looked up at him in that same way? And how many times had he found himself lost to their power, as he was now...

Enough distraction. Bishop pulled them both to their feet, keeping careful hold of one of her wrists. "I will take you with me to the crime scene to see what we can find, that's it. If we hit a dead end, I'm taking you in, deal?"

"Deal," she nodded instantly, and he couldn't believe he was even considering this.

"And no more trying to escape. You saw how easy it was for me to catch you." Though it was much harder than it should have been.

"I understand, I promise I'll be good." She brightened immediately, her smile radiant.

"I'd better not regret this." Bishop backed Anja up against the wall, looming close to make his point, dwarfing her petite frame. "Up until now I've been fairly considerate of your unusual situation, but you wouldn't want to make me angry," he cautioned, wanting to make sure she absolutely understood that the decision to alter his plans didn't mean he was weak.

Her eyes widened, but he didn't think she was afraid of him. A slim hand pressed against his chest defensively, and he was surprised to find it offered considerably more resistance than he would have thought. She was a strong little thing, especially against someone as old as he was.

"I won't. Thank you, Bishop."

With a nod he eased back, watching her warily as they walked back to his black SUV parked up the block from her apartment.

* * *

The house where she'd been found had long been abandoned. Birds, raccoons and worse made their homes in the structure, and it smelled of mildew and soot. More than half of the house was in disrepair, including the kitchen which had been gutted by fire. The bedrooms at the rear of the house were still intact, though empty. Bishop paused just inside the front door, extending his senses. Other than a family of squirrels they were alone on the property.

"How do we know we're alone?" Anja whispered, laying a fearful hand on his arm that brought a faint smile to his lips.

"Can't you tell?" At her shake of the head, he placed both hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Close your eyes, block out all distractions but the sound of my voice. Can you do that?" This time she nodded and he lowered his voice, watching her expressive face as she listened. "Listen with your whole body, in ever widening circles. Can you hear the drip of water from the rain gutter by the front door? Now set it aside and find the next layer of sound. Hear the scratch of the squirrels in the next room..."

"I hear them," she breathed, her eyes still closed. "There are two... no, three of them."

"Good. What else do you hear?" he prompted gently.

"I hear the crickets outside."

"What else?"

"I hear... wings... there are birds flying overhead. That way..." she pointed, her face expectant, craving his confirmation.

This must be what it was like to have a fledgling... something he'd vowed never to experience. Overall it seemed like a pain in the ass, but some moments, it didn't seem so bad. "Very good." Bishop felt the reward of her smile and forced himself to remember they had a job to do. He wasn't there to play blind man's bluff. "See, we're completely alone. Come on, let's get moving."

Bishop led Anja through the house to the room he knew she'd been held in from the police report on file. A crudely stuffed mattress lay in the center of the room, one corner of it liberally stained with blood.

"This isn't what I expected at all," Anja murmured, staring at the dark stain.

"No? This isn't jogging your memory I take it?" It had been a long shot anyway.

"No, not at all. I just thought, with all the preparations he took with the costume and the jewelry... I don't know, I thought we'd see something more elaborate than an old mattress on the floor."

"Take a closer look." Bishop squatted down next to the makeshift bed. "The mattress isn't old, the fabric and stitches are coarse, but new." He reached out to touch the end of the mattress, releasing a waft of fragrant herbs. Fennel, thyme, and apples - sparking something from his memory.

"What are these?" Anja knelt down beside him, fingers tracing over deep scratches embedded in the hardwood floor surrounding the mattress.

"They're runes, Norse writing." Standing up again, he circled the bed, studying the old script with growing apprehension. Coupled with the garb she'd been found in, Bishop started to have serious concerns about who her Sire might be.

It was crazy. If an Ellri roamed the streets of his city, Bishop was confident he would have known it. Sure, anyone could carve a bunch of runes, but the way he'd laid her out and the ring... Bishop couldn't shake the feeling they were dealing with a very old and powerful vampire.

"So you think there's an ancient Viking after me?" Anja drew him out of his reverie, her mind starting down the same path, but without the information he had about what that meant. "Why would he want to turn me into a vampire if I've never even met him?"

"I think I might know. Your lineage could very well factor into it. There's a possibility you're a descendent of his."

"Then my sister Hanna could just as easily have been chosen?"

"If that's his only criteria, then yes, she could have been a target. But likely there are other factors. Physically you're... well, you're very..." he gestured to her, unable to find the right words to describe her delicate beauty coupled with the intangible quality that drew him in. Carys had evoked the same feeling in him, making him want to protect her from the moment he'd first met her.

"Very what?"

Bishop cleared his throat. Since when did he have trouble talking to women? "Let's just say with your coloring, you're the ideal for someone of his tastes."

"Oh." She sounded almost disappointed by his reply and he couldn't help but add a simple compliment.

"Besides which, beauty is often a tempting lure for our kind."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Anja gave him a crooked smile, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to believe such a thing.

There was no way he was going to walk into that one, he'd already let himself get far too invested in her circumstances. "We should, ah, keep looking for clues, anything to take back to my team."

Anja nodded, eyes returning to the evidence before them. "That's my blood, isn't it?"

"Most likely. Only one way to find out for sure though." Already familiar with the scent of her blood from the clothes she'd given him the night before, he leaned down very close to the mattress, methodically working his way across the sprawling stain, searching for signs of any other blood mingled with hers. Her Sire had to have given her some of his blood, there could have been some spilled in the process. But they didn't end up lucky enough for that to happen.

"Just your blood, A positive," he reported, straightening.

"How did you know that?"

"Eh, it's a knack I picked up over the years." He gave a half shrug. "Most vampires can tell by taste, I've gotten very good at tracking." The trouble was, the scene had been thoroughly scrubbed down by the human's CSU, so there was precious little to discover. He was surprised they hadn't brought the mattress in with them, but they probably took the samples they needed instead.

"There's nothing else then? Nothing to lead us to him?"

Bishop didn't miss the tremor that went through her limbs and he hated being the cause for it. But what else could he do? He couldn't let her go, it went against everything he believed in. "Come on, let's get going." There was no sense in putting off the inevitable. Anja nodded, hanging her head in acceptance, and he was glad he wouldn't have to chase her down again.

"Where is it? This vampire jail you're taking me to?" she asked after they were in the car.

"It's not a jail exactly, we don't house criminals the way humans do. I'm taking you to the holding facilities at the local headquarters. We rarely keep anyone there longer than a day or two."

"There aren't many vampire criminals?"

Hardly. "We have very strict penalties." He gave her a mirthless smile, leaving her to draw her own conclusions from that. Bishop turned onto 42nd Avenue. Within the space of a few minutes he'd take her in, process her and then wash his hands of the situation for a few days.

Strict penalties... If her Sire showed up to claim her, he'd be called in to interrogate him. If no one claimed her... the laws were clear. No unlicensed breeding. No exceptions, unless you were one of the Ellri, which almost never happened anymore. The Ellri weren't subject to laws of any kind, they came and went as they pleased. But none had been spotted in decades as far as he knew, and none in the new world.

Strict penalties...

Bishop banished all such thoughts from his mind as he guided the dark SUV through the deserted city streets. In fact, he pushed any thoughts aside, his body working on autopilot until he stopped the car in the rear parking lot of a hardware store.

"This is where your headquarters is?" she said dubiously, head leaning against the window to peer up at the building.

"No," he answered shortly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. There was still time to turn the car around and head back to HQ, he hadn't done anything illegal yet.

"But I thought..."

Bishop shoved the keys in his pocket with short, angry movements, mentally cursing himself in five languages. "Just come with me before I change my mind."

Chapter Seven

I glanced nervously up at the sky that started to grow noticeably lighter as I stepped out of the car. Logically I knew I had an hour or more before it became a problem, but my skin started to feel itchy and crawly and I couldn't get in there fast enough. Then again, Bishop had been out and about during daylight hours the day before with only a pair of sunglasses for protection. Maybe I was getting all itchy for no good reason? I had a zillion and one questions, but Bishop looked a little agitated. I decided to leave well enough alone for the moment, and trail along behind him as he led me to a private entrance at the rear of the building. For whatever reason, he had decided not to take me to jail, and that was good enough for me at the time.

Following him up a narrow flight of stairs, I waited patiently as he unlocked the heavy metal door at the top, expecting to see a storage or office space. A place you kept people on ice until you were ready to turn them in, I imagined. Instead the floor above the retail space had been renovated to a generous, open living space. The décor was minimalist, almost Spartan. A cluster of furniture centered around a big, flat screen TV mounted over an electric fireplace in a corner of the room. The walls were mostly bare, with an occasional splash of color provided by renaissance artwork. A single bedroom/bathroom combination formed the only room that wasn't open to the main living space and I got a peek at neat rows of books lining the walls inside. A small kitchenette lay to the right of the front door.

"You live here?" I asked in surprise, stepping deeper into the room, my eyes lighting on the grand piano tucked incongruously into the corner. Bishop seemed content to leave me to explore on my own, heading straight for the kitchen counter, which was littered with tactical gear and electronic gadgets I didn't recognize.

"Yes."

"Huh, I would have thought you'd have a place underground, not on the top floor." I went to the window and looked down to the quiet street below. There were also a bakery and a book store in the same building and a bank across the street.

"There isn't a basement in the building, and it would have attracted too much attention at the time I bought the place to have one excavated," he replied, pulling off his jacket and tossing it at a coat hook mounted to the wall. With the jacket off, I could see he had several weapons strapped to his body, and with as close as I'd been to him, I wondered why I hadn't noticed before. While I watched, he unstrapped them all, laying the holsters neatly along the breakfast bar.

"You own the whole building?" For some reason that struck me as odd, vampires owning property, but it made sense. Better to be your own landlord than risk someone snooping through your private affairs.

"I do, as well as the one across the street. And no, I wouldn't rather sleep in the vault. This place suits me just fine."

"What about the sun? Isn't that a problem?"

Bishop picked up a small electronic device. "Not for the prepared. I have automatic shutters at every window, they block out the light. Come here for a minute, I want to check something."

I obeyed him without question, curious to see what he had in his hands. "What is that thing?"

"I want to test your blood." He held his hand out for mine, sticking my finger into a little lead attached to the box. It reminded me of the thing they use to check the oxygen in your blood at the doctor's office.

"Will it hurt? Ow!" I scowled at the prick of the needle; the machine at the doctor's never did that.

"Oh, it's not that bad," he chuckled, releasing my hand. I snatched it back to inspect the damage, but my body had already healed the pinprick.

"What are you testing for?" I leaned closer to study the readout, but it was all Greek to me. "Bishop?" I prompted when he didn't reply.

"That can't be right. Give me your other hand."

"I'm pretty sure the same blood is running through that hand as this one," I frowned, handing over the other one, bracing myself for the sting. Once again, there wasn't a trace of the wound as soon as I pulled my hand free. "What does it say?" I asked, when he frowned over the display.

Looking up, he studied my face carefully, searching for... I had no idea what he could be looking for. "Anja, I'm going to ask you this one more time, and I promise I won't be mad if you suddenly remember something you forgot to tell me before. Do you have any idea who your Sire could possibly be?"

"No, of course not. Don't you think I would have told you by now if I did?"

"And you have no clue at all, nothing that comes to mind, nothing odd that's happened to you in the past few weeks or months that you think might possibly be related?"

"No, nothing. Bishop, you're starting to scare me, what's wrong?"

"According to this, you've been a vampire for closer to four hundred years rather than a fledgling less than a day old."

My mouth dropped open as I stared back at him, at a loss for words. "How is that even possible?"

"It's not an exact science, but it's fairly accurate for anyone born in the last two hundred years. I've seen false readings before when a vampire's been turned by an especially powerful vampire line but this..."

"What?"

"This means it's very likely you could have been turned by an Ellri."

I stared at Bishop blankly, waiting for him to explain what that meant, but he stood lost in thought. "Bishop?" I asked gently after a few minutes. "Pretend I don't know anything about vampire culture or society. What's an Ellri?"

"What?" he looked up, "Oh, sorry. It's an old word for Elder, it's the name for natural born vampires that created the vampires species we know today."

"So my Sire is..."

"Possibly one of the oldest living beings on the planet."

I let that marinate for a moment before a distinction came to my lips. "Well, not living, because we're undead, right?"

"No, the surviving Ellri are alive. They were never reborn like you and I were, they're immortal."

"And they're out there walking around, kidnapping women and turning them into vampires, abandoning them for you to clean up?" What kind of elders were they?

"No... you don't get it. The Ellri are extremely reclusive, they haven't embraced the modern age very well. I can count the surviving ones on one hand. It's been easily a hundred years or more since I last saw one, and I can't remember the last time one chose to turn a human. Something this monumental would be big news in the vampire community. When this gets out, you'll be a celebrity of sorts."

A celebrity in vampire society? Unbidden, visions of vampire paparazzi swam in my mind and I shook my head to clear it. "Why are they so reclusive?" If I was a centuries old vampire, there wouldn't be much I'd be afraid of.

"I don't know. Like I said, it's rare they move around and they're not very sneaky, they usually travel with a full court. None of them have set foot in the United States as far as I know. As a rule they don't do well with change, they honor tradition. That's what made me first suspect one was involved when I saw how you'd been turned, but I can't imagine why he wouldn't have taken you with him."

That part didn't bother me so much, I was glad I hadn't been taken by an ancient vampire who feared change. There was another point that caught my interest though. "If he's so old he would have been able to get a license to turn me if he wanted to, right?"

"Ellri are exempt from vampire law. They can do as they please."

"Then... you won't have to turn me in after all, right? You can let me go?"

Bishop hesitated and I wondered what he wasn't telling me. "In theory no, but this is all based on speculation. There hasn't been a precedent set like this before. Without your Sire to claim you, we don't know for certain it was an Ellri that sired you."

"But your little machine..."

"It's evidence in your favor, but it's not enough to establish your line on its own. In fact, it's more likely you were sired by a direct descendent than an Ellri himself, and he would still be subject to our laws."

"So we're right back where we started."

"Almost. This tells us at least that whoever turned you is very old, very powerful, and not to be dealt with lightly. You know, that explains why I had so much trouble catching you tonight."

"You said it was easy to catch me!" My eyes widened in surprise. And here I'd thought he had been toying with me!

"Yes, I did say that," he grinned.

"You lied?" Somehow I hadn't thought him capable of it, I have no idea why. Bishop shrugged, unconcerned as he turned to put the device back on the kitchen counter and I decided not to make an issue of it. "So what happens now?" I felt like I was constantly asking him that, but how else would I get the answers I needed to survive?

"I have no idea. I'm a vampire, not a psychic." Ignoring me for the moment, he pulled a wicked looking knife out of his boot and a short pistol from the other, setting them to rest beside their brethren on the counter.

My teeth pressed against the inside of my lips as I fought the urge to scream at him for blowing me off. Like it or not I needed him at the moment, keenly feeling my own lack of experience in all things vampire. "I mean... to me. Will I fall into a coma as soon as the sun rises? Will I burn if I'm not in a coffin? I see I still have a reflection, what about holy water and garlic and silver?" The questions tumbled from my lips without end.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, one thing at a time before you have an aneurism." His hands came up in a supplicating gesture, that trace of annoyance coming back to his eyes. Bishop looked like he wanted to disappear out the window. I forced myself to stem the flow of questions, but my eyes begged him silently to respond. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked like he was starting to get a migraine. Did vampires get migraines? My mouth opened to ask him but I snapped it shut again, thinking better of the question. "I knew I was going to regret this..." he muttered disgustedly.

* * *

It felt like hours later when we found ourselves sitting there looking at each other. Me sitting on his couch while Bishop slowly but surely edged his way closer and closer to the door. My head crammed full of information, I worried I wouldn't be able to retain it all, because I surely couldn't ask him again. It wasn't that he was angry at me exactly; it felt more like he wasn't used to so many questions at once and maybe just a bit angry with himself for letting me stay there in the first place. I was pretty sure I had the basics down though.

Beheading and fire were the surest way to kill a vampire, so I should avoid swords and bonfires like the plague. A wooden stake through the heart wouldn't kill me, but it would send me into a torpor (it means a coma-like state, I had to look it up), which would render me particularly susceptible to being beheaded or set on fire. Any other wound would heal rapidly, and my blood could heal humans to some extent. Silver, garlic, holy water, none of those had any effect whatsoever. Sunlight wouldn't make me burst into flames, but it'd be painful if I was in it for very long and it would sap my strength, making me slow and lethargic.

I could drink anything I wanted to, not just blood, but heavy food would make me feel sick until my body absorbed it. Bishop had no idea how often I'd need to feed. Most new vampires, or noobs as he called them, needed to feed nightly. But with my specially souped up blood, he didn't know if I'd be able to hold out longer.

Bishop was right about the laws, there weren't too many to remember. The number one rule was to defer to all Ellri. They were as gods among vampires, and no actions could be taken against them either officially or unofficially. If one wronged you... tough. Luckily, that didn't come into play very often in the last century, except for my unusual circumstances.

The second most important law was to keep our presence hidden from humans. They pretty much didn't care if vampires killed or maimed humans, or tried to survive on willing donors as long as they disposed of any evidence discreetly. It was forbidden to keep a human companion or 'pet' unless they were compelled to keep their silence.

Other than the licensed breeding being strictly controlled, the rest of it boiled down to an eye for an eye mentality, and they largely let vampires sort out their own disagreements.

At some point he'd closed the shutters and I could feel the sun rising higher in the sky, stealing the energy from my body. I was tired, nearly nodding off, but I forced myself to stay awake. I wasn't sure if I would get another chance like that again, or if he'd kick me to the curb after the way the night had gone.

"You'll be stronger and faster than anyone else your age, so you'll have to learn control. Not just around humans, but our kind as well. Other vampires will be curious about you, especially around here. We don't get many vampires of your 'age' visiting the new world."

"The new world?"

"Trust me, if you were born in the 1600's, that's how you'd think of America too." The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half smile, and I wondered again how old he was. Physically he looked like he was in his mid-twenties, but that didn't mean anything. I had the feeling he was a good deal older than I was going to be pretending to be.

We had agreed that for the time being, I would keep to myself, and if anyone asked, I'd been turned in the mid 1600's since older vampires didn't have to carry their papers on them at all times. It was fairly easy to prove your age with little gadgets like the one he'd used on me, and no one tried to pad their age by that much and expected to get away with it.

"When in doubt, don't say a whole lot. The older you are, the less tolerant you are of bullshit. That doesn't mean you should be reckless mind you, it means... you've earned the right to decide whether or not to answer anyone's random questions. Do you understand the distinction?"

"I think so," I nodded, feeling like my head might wobble off at the motion. At the time I didn't feel strong, or powerful. I felt like a ten year old who'd stayed up all night at a sleepover and was forced to pay attention in class. "Should I do an accent?" Pretending to be someone else did appeal to me in a theatrical way.

"Can you do an accent?" His brows rose slightly. I tried a few words, and I thought I did pretty well, until I saw his face. "Keep it simple. Most of us living in the States have homogenized our speech over the years. You can't tell where we originally came from."

"Where are you originally from?" I couldn't help but ask, given that opening, but he didn't reply. Instead he took a larger step towards the door.

"I think that's enough questions for the night and you should be on your way."

Accepting that without argument, I stood, but underestimated the effect of the sun on my limbs. I nearly crashed to the ground as they wouldn't obey me as quickly as I had anticipated. Bishop was there in a heartbeat to keep me from falling and I felt like the biggest clod. "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired. Do you think maybe I could lie down for a little while?" I could tell he wasn't too thrilled with the question and I tried to look tired and pathetic. It wasn't a difficult stretch.

"I don't think that's a good idea, I need to go out for a while."

"During the day?"

"I can take it." Further proof he was considerably older than I was. I felt like my legs were turning to jello.

"I promise, I won't do anything but lay here on the couch, cross my heart and hope to die." I crossed my heart and held my fingers up in a passable rendition of the Boy Scout salute. At least I think so. I could very well have been throwing down gang signs for all I knew. Bishop hesitated and I had the feeling he might be caving. "You can kick me out when you get back, I'm just not sure I can make it home under my own steam." Not a lie. The couch looked better and better.

"I'd be more than happy to give you a ride."

I could understand why he needed the break, and I couldn't really ask him for more when he'd already been so helpful already. I nodded, shuffling towards the door. "I'm sorry. I'm not this needy all the time, I swear. I've just never died before, it takes getting used to I guess." I gave him a half hearted smile. At the door I noticed he was still by the couch, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"You can stay until I get back, just this once."

"Really? Thank you so much!" The relief was so sharp, I zipped across the room, moving faster that I thought I could, nearly crashing into him again. Instead I hit the coffee table with my shins. It didn't hurt much, but the coffee table made an alarming creaking sound and a crack appeared along the edge of the trim. "I'm so sorry..." Here vampires are supposed to be these smooth, dark, sexy creatures, totally in control, and I was stumbling through the afterlife going Hulk smash...

"It's fine."

Sinking onto the couch before he changed his mind, I tucked my feet up under me. "I won't budge from this spot, I promise."

"Take the bed, you'll be more comfortable."

"No, this is fine, really." I didn't want to put him any more out than I already had.

"Take the bed," he bit out, and I nodded, a little bewildered by his tone.

"Alright, I will, thanks."

"So... we're good?" Bishop looked as eager to get away as I was to fall asleep. He looked longingly towards the freedom lying on the other side of the metal door.

I nodded slowly, in a bit of a mental fog now that I was curled up comfortably on the couch. He might have offered his bed, but I didn't think I had the energy to make it that far, the couch would do me fine. I thought of another question and my mouth opened to ask him, but he was already gone. "Yeah... we're good," I murmured, sinking into blissful oblivion.

Chapter Eight

The room was pitch black when I opened my eyes. It felt like only a few minutes had elapsed from the time I'd fallen asleep, but the clock on the bedside table showed it was after five p.m.

Bedside table...

Though I'd fallen asleep on the couch, I was now in Bishop's bedroom. Even with the shutters closed, my vision was adequate, and I could clearly see it matched the décor in the rest of the apartment. Masculine and tasteful, one wall lined with bookshelves. The question was, when had he put me into his bed, and did it mean he still wanted me to go?

As comfy as it was, I knew I shouldn't overstay my welcome. I'd promised to be on my way as soon as he came back. "Hello?" I called out softly, slipping out of the bed, trying in vain to find my shoes. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. With all the shutters closed up tight, it felt like an oversized mausoleum with me the only resident.

"Bishop?" I said to the empty room, feeling so alone... so disconnected from the rest of the world. On silent feet, I strode to the windows to press the button for the shutters, letting in the remains of the setting sun. Foolishly, I looked to the streets below, having some idea that maybe I'd spot Bishop's car, but there was no sign of it. I wondered if he was hiding out somewhere, waiting for me to leave. Did he consider his duties discharged in explaining the vampire facts of life to me? Was that a good or a bad thing?

My thoughts returned to the disjointed images of Bishop comforting me through my transition. The memories were swiftly becoming soft and hazy, with the filter of pain already starting to lose its hold on my mind. How much of that had been real and how much the result of my fevered imagination? I was grateful - more grateful than I could express to Bishop for being there for me - but I could hardly keep imposing on him, especially when it seemed to make him so uncomfortable.

And yet... I couldn't make myself leave, not without seeing him again. Left to my own devices, I took a deeper look at his apartment. The kitchen was especially bare; it looked like the refrigerator and the microwave were the only appliances that saw any regular use. There were three different kinds of juice in the fridge, and I helped myself to a glass of cranberry, finding both the taste and color pleasing.

The cupboards held a few snack type items and some clean glasses, but little else. Mister tall, dark and handsome vampire cop seemed to have the occasional craving for popcorn, or maybe he liked to entertain humans that did? That sparked all manner of images of his entertaining ladies in the apartment, and I found I didn't like that train of thought at all. For some reason I didn't enjoy thinking about Bishop feeding on random women while they watched movies on his flat screen TV and snacked on Jiffy Pop.

The grand piano tucked away in the corner caught my interest. It was a beautiful instrument, not something I usually saw outside of school. He certainly had the space for it. There was no sheet music on the stand or in the bench, and I wondered if it was only for show? There wasn't a speck of dust on it, but I couldn't help but feel like it saw little use. A test of the keys found it to be in perfect pitch though. I had enough training to accompany myself when learning a new piece, but it never came easily to me and my sight reading was terrible. I had to puzzle out each song the first time through a piece, and my efforts were always plodding at best. Maybe it's the perfectionist in me, I always thought piano should be smooth, with one note flowing seamlessly into the next. Something I could do with my voice easily enough when my nerves didn't get the better of me.

A knock at the front door made me jump, and I hastily closed the piano back up, tiptoeing to the door. There wasn't a peep hole set into the heavy duty metal door and I wondered if it would be safe for me to open it, or if I should pretend no one was home and wait for them to go away. Closing my eyes I extended my new senses to see if I could tell who it might be. Whoever stood at the front door was absolutely silent. That spelled vampire. It couldn't be Bishop, he wouldn't have knocked.

"Come on, I know you're up, let me in!" A male voice called out, making me jump again.

"Just a minute, please," I called out, not quite sure what the heck I was doing. Whoever it was, I would let them know Bishop wasn't home and send them on their way. I couldn't hide out forever, and it seemed as good a time as any to meet another vampire, especially one who obviously knew Bishop well enough to yell at him like that. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, hoping I didn't look as bad as I had the night before. Calm and in control... you're a visiting vampire and you're calm and in control... I tried to reassure myself as I pulled the door open. "Yes?"

The vampire waiting out in the hallway was dressed in navy blue tactical garb, like I imagined a member of the SWAT team would wear. His pants had a zillion pockets in them and he was armed with two pistols strapped to his thighs. A shoulder holster sat plainly visible over a dark turtleneck and vest for anyone to see. I wasn't sure if he was getting ready to respond to a riot or if he always dressed like that and didn't give a damn who saw him in the get up. With medium brown hair and eyes and a closely manicured beard, he wasn't unattractive, even if I had to crane my neck to get a good look at him. He was even taller than Bishop, and broadly muscled, but the grin on his face removed any initial fear I had at finding someone of his size standing outside the door.

"Well, hello there." His grin expanded to show me a row of even white teeth. "And who might you be?"

Calm and in control... "I might ask you the same," I asked in a voice I hardly recognized as my own.

"Fair enough," he chuckled, not at all offended by my tone. "I'm Mason. I'm guessing Bishop isn't expecting me tonight, huh?"

"He didn't mention it to me, no."

"Understandably distracted, I get it." His hands spread out in front of him. "So, is he uh... indisposed then?" He looked past me, easily seeing over the top of my head.

"He stepped out for a bit. Are you with the Order too?" I asked, fishing a little. If the Order was supposed to be a secret, I didn't know. Besides, Bishop had said he was with the Order the first time I talked to him, he hadn't bothered to hide it.

"Yeah, we work together sometimes," he nodded. "Bishop's never mentioned me before then, huh?" He seemed almost forlorn that I didn't know who he was, and I searched for a way to preserve his ego.

"We've had a lot of catching up to do. I showed up on his doorstep last night." Not a lie... "He probably hasn't gotten around to you yet."

"Yeah, it was probably something like that. He didn't tell me he was expecting any company either."

"It was a last minute sort of thing. Bishop is..." I blanked for a moment, trying to think of how best to define our relationship, not wanting to give the impression in any way that he was my Sire. "...one of my oldest friends." Also not a lie, he was the oldest person I knew.

"He's a great guy. I've only known him for about twenty years, but he's the shit, there's no one better."

That one I could attest to without embellishment. "He is a terrific guy," I nodded, warming to him a little. So far so good on meeting vampires, though I had to expect most of them probably wouldn't be as friendly. But seeing as how I was in the mood to make new friends... "I'm not really sure when he'll be back, do you want to come in and wait for him for a while?"

"Yeah, I could do that for a bit." When he passed by, I noticed the vest he wore looked like a bullet proof vest. Why would a vampire need that kind of protection? Bishop hadn't worn one, but then again, he had been coming to see me, and I hardly posed a threat to him. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked.

I hadn't, but the bitchy vampire role wasn't my forte. "I'm Anja, nice to meet you."

Mason took my hand when I offered it, dwarfing mine as he shook it. "You know, it's strange he's never mentioned you before."

Uh oh... "Does he often talk to you about his past?" I hedged. So far Bishop had dodged a lot of the more personal questions I'd asked, so I assumed he was a secretive person by nature.

"Well... sometimes. I mean he's a private dude for sure, but he has mentioned a time or two that he had a thing for blondes," he grinned.

"Does he now..." I frowned, another vision of him snacking on a blonde in his living room flitting through my mind. Not that I had any reason to be jealous, I'd just met the man. Something must have shown on my face because Mason backpedalled like crazy.

"Hey, I'm not saying he's had a parade of women in here of any hair color. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw him hook up with a Betty. I just meant he's partial to blondes, except for when he's feeding. But you'd know more about that than I would, I expect. You know Bishop, he's the job and not a whole lot else. I have a hard enough time dragging him into the social scene even when it's business. That's why I was surprised to see you here. It's nice to see him join the land of the living, so to speak." He finished with another goofy grin, and I lost my annoyance over the blonde remark.

"So, was that what you boys had planned for tonight? You hardly look dressed for the social scene," I said, gesturing to his vest.

"That depends on the scene." He waggled his eyebrows at me. "I like to be prepared," he shrugged, giving a Velcro strap a little tug on the vest.

"You must have been a Boy Scout when you were a boy," I muttered, but of course his ears picked it up.

"Eagle Scout, actually. Not all of us are as tough as your boyfriend. I'll take all the help I can get."

I opened my mouth to dispute that he wasn't my boyfriend, but decided against it at the last second. What could it hurt? It might even come in handy someday, Bishop seemed to be well respected. "That sounds smart, given your profession," I nodded instead.

"You never know when danger will strike," he said almost prophetically, as his phone buzzed. Mason retrieved it from one of his many pockets and frowned over it for a couple of seconds. "Speaking of which, it was great meeting you, but I've gotta run."

"Oh, okay. Is there a message you'd like me to pass along to Bishop when he gets here?" If he ever showed up...

"Yeah, tell him to meet up with me at The Bleeding Hart later if he wants to come out to play, I'm headed there now."

"The bleeding heart? What's that?" I mistook his words.

"He'll know. Hell, maybe he'll even bring you along." He edged towards the door. "I hope to see you again, Anja. Will you be in town for long?"

I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested, or instinctively probing for more information. "I'll be around." I tried for my most mysterious smile.

"Catch you later then." With a last wink, he slipped out, leaving me all alone again.

I knew I should leave.

Instead I curled up in his bed again, listening to the night sounds on the street below. I knew I didn't belong in Bishop's place, but something kept me from going home. Part of it was fear I might attack Bridget again or any other innocent bystander on the street who happened to need a Band-Aid along the way. And part of it was fear my Sire might make another move and I wouldn't be strong enough to get away without Bishop to intervene. Given my frame of mind and everything I'd been through in the past twenty-four hours, I suppose it wasn't surprising that I drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

I couldn't move.

Only this time, instead of the sharp scent of disinfectant stinging my nose, the tang of salt in the air led me to believe I was near the ocean. I opened my eyes to find myself lying low to the ground, on the same makeshift mattress I'd seen in the abandoned house on my search with Bishop. Bright sunlight shone through the windows and seagulls cried outside, in search of food. Had my Sire stolen me away from Bishop's apartment? I'd already been moved in my sleep once, I wasn't about to discount anything. I tried to call out, but I had no voice, the paralysis keeping me completely immobile, save for my eyes.

I heard low words with a prayer-like cadence in a language I couldn't recognize, and I struggled to break free from my invisible bonds. Blue eyes appeared before me, arresting all of my senses. The eyes were tender and he touched the side of my face almost lovingly. This was him... it was my Sire, and he did look like a Viking, with long flaxen hair, pulled back into braids that framed his face.

"Logn," he said, in a deep, soothing voice, and the fear that gripped me melted away as if by magic.

"I don't know what you're saying, but I don't think you have the right person." To my amazement, I was able to get the words out, and I saw his eyes crinkle in understanding. Whatever his language choice when he spoke, he obviously knew English as well. Though the fear had dissolved, that didn't change the fact that I didn't want to be his prisoner. "Please... let me go. You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone who you are if you let me go. I don't care if you're an... Ella..." I couldn't remember the word, "...Elder, I won't tell anyone you're here."

"Tyna." His brows drew together into a deep frown, eyes darkening as his fangs descended. My vision became blurry and indistinct, the light fading from the sky as he drew nearer. The sting of his teeth made me cry out in agony. This was nothing like the movies where the vampire bites and victim goes into a swoon, pleasure mingled with pain. I felt every tear of skin and muscle as he ravaged my neck, drinking deeply. On and on it went, until I felt myself start to drift, the light fading to near total darkness.

"Drekka." He held his bleeding wrist to my lips but I turned away. "Drekka!" he thundered again. My mouth opened to scream, and I choked on the blood that filled it, feeling as if I was drowning, growing weaker and weaker. I was dying all over again, and this time... this time I would never open my eyes again.

Strong hands gripped my arms, holding me tightly and I struggled to break free from my captor.

"Anja! It's just a dream," Bishop's voice came to me in the darkness, and I stilled, my throat raw from crying in my sleep. "Anja?" It was the note of concern in his voice that drew me out of the dark dream and back to the present.

I clung to him like a child, drawing in great shuddering gasps of unnecessary air. It wasn't quite like waking from a nightmare like I'd had in my childhood. For one thing, the only person who ever comforted me after a bad dream was my sister Hanna, and she had never offered such a strong, calming presence. In Bishop's arms I instantly felt safe, like there was no way my captor could reach me when he was there to protect me. But this dream also had the stain of truth to it, unlike my childhood dreams of giant spiders or mud people. Somewhere out there... was a real person who wanted me for his own twisted reasons, and that was enough to keep me from closing my eyes again for a long, long time.

Lastly, physiologically, my body's response to the nightmare was different. Without a heart pounding, I felt... wrong. My breath came fast and shallow out of habit as I tried to reconcile the dream with where I was. "He was there, he took me..." I gulped.

"Who took you?" His voice was pitched low and intimate in the darkness, and I felt his hesitant touch on the back of my hair.

"I didn't really see him clearly, or I did... but I can't remember." I struggled in vain to recall what he looked like, but all I could see were those blue eyes and the suggestion of blonde hair. Beyond that, he could have been in the room next to me and I might not have known him.

"Are you sure you don't remember him? Think back, what happened?" he prompted.

"No... it's all a blur... I couldn't move... I could hear him though. He spoke in a language I didn't recognize."

"A foreign language, maybe something like... lat det sa har?"

"It's hard to say, without you saying the same words, but that doesn't sound quite right."

"What about hadde det hores ut som dette?"

"Closer maybe, in the same family of languages." Not having any idea what was said, I was at something of a disadvantage. "The last thing he said sounded like drekka." I felt his body tense around me. "What does that mean?"

"Drink. It means drink in old Norse."

Again with the Old Norse. Here I'd thought vampires came from Transylvania, but I was fast learning I couldn't rely on books and movies to be accurate.

"I got you something," Bishop said out of the blue, and I leaned back a little, curiosity replacing the fear that was fading fast.

"A present?" I brightened.

"Not exactly." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a shiny new California Identification card.

I turned it over in my hands, studying the information next to my picture. "I don't get it, I already have a driver's license." I'd never had a fake ID before. It seemed pointless since I was already over twenty one. I noticed the address listed wasn't mine. Actually, upon closer inspection it looked like it was Bishop's address. "Are you asking me to move in?"

"Ah no, I figured you wouldn't want any stray vampires showing up on your doorstep, that's all."

"Oh, good idea." I tried not to sound too disappointed, it would have been a little soon to think about moving in with the guy, no matter how drop dead gorgeous and capable he was. "Why does it say Anja Gudrun?

"I couldn't use your real name if you're supposed to be 400 years old, now could I? I decided to stick as close as possible to your regular identity to make it easier for you to remember."

"Why Gudrun?" I couldn't help but wonder if it had some special significance.

"You don't like it?"

"No it's fine, it's great," I assured him quickly. "Thanks for doing this for me, it didn't even occur to me I might need something like this."

"Okay, well... that officially ends my involvement in your welfare, you're on your own now." His hands came up in the exact same gesture I used to show my sister's dog, Skittles, that I had no more treats.

On my own? There was so much I still didn't know. "But I thought..." Hadn't he listed his own address as mine? Talk about mixed messages.

"I have a dangerous life, Anja. I can't be leading you around like a puppy on a leash. Trust me, it's much safer for you if we go our separate ways."

I didn't see it that way at all. "But what if he comes back?" The dream still fresh in my memory, I couldn't help but feel it held a mixture of memory at what had happened to me and a hint of what was yet to come.

"I'm giving you a chance to beat the system. If he shows up, tell him to get the requisite license if he hasn't already. If he's an Ellri... then I wish you many happy years together." His words had a ring of finality to them.

"But what if he's dangerous?"

Bishop laid his hands on my shoulders, looking me squarely in the eye. "You'll be fine. You have to start thinking like a vampire now. You're not the same girl who died a couple of days ago."

"You could help me though, if I don't want to go with him, couldn't you?"

"Anja..." Bishop let out a long pent up breath, letting go of my shoulders. "I can't, okay? I can't get any more involved than I am now. This is it, this is where we part ways."

"Alright," I nodded, "but what if I..."

"You'll be fine."

The rejection hurt, and I wasn't as convinced I'd be fine, but I wasn't going to sit there and beg. "Alright, it's good to know where I stand. I guess if I ever get into a serious jam I could try Mason, he might help me." I stood and slipped my shoes on, brushing past him on my way to the living room.

"Wait...how do you even know who Mason is?"

I didn't bother to wait, he wanted me gone, I was going to go. "Mason stopped by looking for you earlier. He was very friendly."

"How friendly?" His eyes narrowed.

A tiny smile touched my lips at his response. "Mason didn't seem at all eager to write me out of his life. In fact, I got the impression it was the opposite." Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating how the conversation had gone a little. But I couldn't resist the chance to see if Bishop even cared. Plus, I had the impression Mason might actually help me if I really needed it, as long as he believed I was who I said I was anyway.

"What did he say to you?"

"He said you should meet up with him at the bleeding heart, and that you might want to bring me along."

"How long ago was that?" Bishop checked his watch, any concern he had over me talking to his buddy evaporating as duty called.

"I don't know, not that long. Maybe an hour? What is that, the bleeding heart?"

"It's a bar other vampires frequent," he replied, strapping on his various knives and guns and replacing his motorcycle jacket.

"Can I come with you?" Bishop didn't even bother to answer that, and I tried again. "Oh come on, I'll be good. I should meet other vampires, don't you think?"

"You're supposed to be laying low, remember?"

"I'll sit in the corner and watch. I won't even drink. What do they drink in vampire bars anyway? Blood or alcohol? Or both?"

"Just go home, you have some big decisions ahead of you and drinking won't make it any better."

"Big decisions like what?"

"I'm sure they'll come to you given a little time to reflect." Ready to go, he opened the front door, holding it open expectantly. "If anyone asks, you're here visiting for an indeterminate amount of time. Make up any kind of history you want, but remember to keep it simple. If anyone from the Order asks, flash that ID and tell them you don't have your papers on you. That should buy you some time. Can you make it home alright by yourself?"

"Don't worry about it, it's not your problem anymore." It came out harsher than I'd intended, my feelings just a little wounded for being shown the door.

"Anja..."

"I'm sorry, that was unkind of me," I shook my head. "Thanks for your help, Bishop. I won't forget what you've done for me." As I passed by him to leave, I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His lips turned towards mine and the corner of my mouth brushed against his on the way down, sending a frisson of awareness down my spine. I thought I might see something in his face to indicate he'd felt something too, but he was studiously looking at the floor when I looked back.

"Goodbye, Anja."

"Bye." With a sad smile, I turned away.

"Wait. If there's an emergency, and I mean a real emergency..." He dug in a pocket and came up with a card with a number printed on it and nothing else. "Call this number."

I took the card, glancing at it before sticking it into my back pocket. "Don't worry, I won't be the girl who called vampire, I'll only call if it's a matter of life and death."

"Good luck, Anja. It was... interesting meeting you." His lips twitched into a half smile.

"You too, Bishop," I smiled back, hesitating a moment longer. "You know, if you change your mind..." I held my hand up as he started to protest, "...in a hundred years or so, and you ever want to talk, look me up. Forever is a long time." With a hopeful smile, I turned around, setting off down the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I thought I heard him say you have no idea.

Chapter Nine

Back to business as usual. Bishop took the bike to The Bleeding Hart, not wanting to be tempted to chase Anja down and offer her a ride to her place. Best for everyone if he got his head back in the game and went back to what he did best; serve the Order. The other members of the Jacari were his friends, the only family he'd known for over three hundred years. He didn't need or want a woman clouding his mind or his judgment.

The reality that he'd already circumvented the law didn't sit well with him, and he tried to drive it from his mind as he pushed the bike through the darkened streets of the city. The sight of the familiar bar helped put him in the right frame of mind. There he knew what to expect. Overpriced drinks, the mix of low key regulars looking for a place to commune, and the usual posers with delusions of grandeur. And, if he was lucky... a brawl.

The doorman knew him on sight and they traded sober nods as Bishop strode in, pausing near the entrance to take in the lay of the land. Scotty lounged behind the bar, idly scratching the back of his shaved head while he smoked and leafed through a comic book. Jarrod, co-owner of the establishment, held court at his table without his usual companion, his twin Leander. He didn't seem to mind though, there was a long legged brunette offering a suitable distraction.

There were only a handful of patrons in the bar, but it was early yet, the place didn't usually pick up until well after midnight. Those that were there largely ignored him, any that happened to look up and catch his eye rapidly looked away as if afraid of attracting his attention. Bishop was used to that, there were few vampires that looked him in the eye once they knew who he was. It didn't bother him, in fact, he cultivated it. It made his job easier to do.

Mason waved him over from their usual corner, holding up two fingers to the bartender who nodded. "Ah, you made it. I wasn't sure if you'd show up tonight or not."

"I figured you had something going if you took the time to come over instead of calling," Bishop shrugged, taking a seat with his back to the wall. Scotty dropped off two beers and he nodded his thanks.

"Well yeah, but... you didn't have to come out here if you had company, I would have understood. It's not a big deal. In fact, I'm a little surprised you didn't bring her along. Why not mix a little business with pleasure?" he grinned and Bishop had to wonder - was Mason really hoping to see Anja again so soon?

"It's not a problem. I'd rather get the business out of the way if you don't mind. What have you got?" He didn't acknowledge the mention of Anja coming with him at all. It made him think of what her expressive face would look like venturing into a real live vampire bar.

Mason took it in stride, well used to Bishop's moods. He pulled out a series of five pictures and laid them out on the table. "You know I've been tracking Manolo off and on for about two years for those stolen chips, but we haven't been able to figure out how he's disguising the serial numbers? Take a look at these..."

Bishop leaned forward to study the pictures, losing himself in the job for a while as he helped his friend figure out where to go next on the case. This was the part he liked best, poring over data, sorting through the pieces until they fell into place. The physical aspects of the job were fun on occasion, but he had an affinity for the analytical side of investigation. For the next half hour he quizzed Mason on where he stood, his sharp mind turning over the facts while they plotted out his next course of action. Finally he relaxed, satisfied with the proposed plan, finishing off the dregs of his warm beer with a wince.

"So, tell me all about Anja." Mason waggled his brows at him, holding up two more fingers to the bartender.

He had wondered how long it would take for Mason's naturally inquisitive nature to bring her up again. "What about her?" he replied mildly.

"How come you never told me about her?"

"Because... there's nothing to tell." Bishop gave a careless shrug.

"And yet she's in your bed..."

"How did you...? She's... it's not like that." Hating that flustered feeling, Bishop accepted the new beer from Scotty. He drained half of it in one gulp, wishing for something more potent to drink.

"Right... Because God forbid you ever enjoy your existence for a millisecond," Mason muttered, tipping back his own beer.

"I enjoy my life," Bishop frowned, the remark hitting a too close to home after the day he'd had. Mason might not care about mixing business with pleasure, but he wanted... no, needed to keep focused. Anything else was too painful.

"Yeah, you're a regular barrel of laughs." A roll of the eyes was given. "Alright then, so she's what... more like a sister to you?"

"Something like that."

"Then you don't mind if I take a crack at her?"

He'd almost been convinced she was just digging at him when she'd said Mason was interested, but had there been a kernel of truth to it? "Just how friendly did the two of you get while I was out?" he demanded hotly.

"Ha, I knew it! You do have a thing for this girl. Relax, Cochise, I wouldn't horn in on your lady."

"She's not..." Mentally kicking himself for walking right into that one, Bishop paused a beat to regain his composure before he continued. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh come on, she's the only girl I've seen in your apartment...ever. And you let her stay there while you were out, that's gotta be a new level of trust for you. I figured you two must be pretty tight."

"It's... complicated." That was an understatement. She'd managed to worm her way under his skin, and he was starting to think he'd never be rid of her completely. Anja wasn't even there and she was still the hot topic of the day.

"Of course it is, I wouldn't expect anything less from you, buddy," he snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I'm glad to see you finally getting some. If anyone needed to let off a little steam, it's you."

"You make it sound like I'm a monk," Bishop frowned. "I enjoy female companionship as much as the next guy."

"I'm talking about more than a feeder."

"Yeah, well not all of us like to play amnesia roulette with women like you do. When's the last time you hooked up with more than a one night stand?"

"Ouch." Mason laid a hand over his heart. "We're not talking about me though, we're talking about you."

"Actually, we're not talking about me either," Bishop smiled, polishing off the last of his beer. "Do we have any heavy hitters in town right now?" He was a little out of touch with the social scene. It had been a while since he'd made the usual rounds, but he knew Mason and Cage were fairly visible.

"Heavy hitters..." Mason switched gears without skipping a beat. "The Cordova brothers are here, and Gilchrist left last week. Oh, and Kursik has been holed up at the Fairmont, remember?"

"Right, I almost forgot about Kursik," Bishop nodded, mentally sifting through what he knew about the guy. He was a dangerous, influential man in any incarnation, and older than Bishop by a good century at least. He had blue eyes and fair hair... could he be responsible for turning Anja? His blood might be powerful enough to manage her abnormal readings, and anyone could throw around Old Norse with a little practice. Could Kursik be masquerading as an Ellri among the newborns? He would have to tread carefully in making any inquiries, Aleksandr Kursik was not a man to be dealt with lightly.

"Hello?" Mason waved a hand in front of Bishop's face and he realized there was a question on the table he'd completely missed.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, why do you want to know about the heavy hitters? Are you expecting something big to go down?"

It was tempting to bring Mason into it all. He trusted him implicitly, but it was better for his own protection to have some plausible deniability should things take a wrong turn in his investigation. "No, just trying to keep updated, that's all. Listen, I'm going to take off, go check in with the office and get some paperwork done. Are we good here, or did you need anything else?" Bishop threw down a few bills to pay for the drinks and a decent tip.

"No, I'm good. Thanks for your help, brother. Give me a call if you get stuck on that paperwork."

"Why, would you come in to help me with it?" Bishop's brows rose in questioning disbelief.

"No, but I'd say supportive things like... you can do it!" Mason's lopsided grin reappeared.

* * *

The Order's headquarters were set in a big modern building of red brick and glass, surrounded by tasteful landscaping and a well lit sign bearing the company name of Whetstone Pharmaceuticals.

At that time of night there were few lights on in the above ground offices, but Bishop knew the lower levels would be buzzing with activity. Stowing away the Ducati in the parking garage, he took the elevator straight down to B-3 where the underground labs were.

Luck was with him, as Jenessa was in her office, the top of her pale braid visible as she bent over an assortment of hard bound books on her desk.

"You know, they have these amazing new things, they're called computers..." Bishop teased from the doorway, having a soft spot in his heart for the doctor. In a sisterly way, he had no romantic designs on the pretty blonde.

"You more than anyone should know the temptation of books." She gave him a radiant smile, leaning back from her studies. "I haven't seen you in a while, Bishop. What brings you down to my level?"

"I thought maybe you could help me with a case I'm working on." He withdrew the monitor from his pocket and set it on the corner of her desk.

"Is your scanner broken? You know Trick can fix that for you a lot faster than I can."

"No, it's not broken. I was wondering what you can tell me about the bloodline. Can you trace the genetic markers and help me pinpoint her origins?" It was a long shot, but technology continually surprised him in that day and age.

Jenessa picked up the device, studying the readings dubiously. "From this? I'm good, but I'm not that good. Can you get me a bigger sample?"

That would mean seeing Anja again. He wasn't sure he wanted to call any more attention to her from the organization than strictly necessary. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Why do you need to know? I find it hard to believe you're not capable of putting your considerable charms to use in getting the answer you want straight from the source." She meant his skill with intimidation, not his charm, and Bishop shook his head.

"It's sort of a... delicate situation. There isn't a formal investigation going."

"Oh, I see," she nodded, handing over the scanner. "With a vampire that old, I can see how you'd want to proceed with care. But I can be discreet if need be. I won't need to see her, just a sample of her blood if you can obtain it," Jenessa offered.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he nodded, pocketing the device and turning away, but her voice called him back.

"Bishop, are you alright?" Her head canted to one side as she studied him.

Did it show? He had to pull it together before he had every member of the team asking him about his feelings for chrissakes. "Why wouldn't I be?" he shrugged, retreating before he did something else to set off her radar - or worse, sit down and tell her the whole disturbing business. Bishop managed to resist the urge to share, deciding he would take the rest of the night off to shake the unpleasant emotions free of his system instead of going out to hunt.

One step back in his apartment and he knew that was a mistake.

Anja's subtle presence could still be felt in the apartment from the short time she'd stayed there. From the used glass in the sink, to the golden strands of hair on the back of the couch, and the rumpled sheets on his bed; even the air felt different. Lifting a pillow to his nose, he realized he could still smell her unique scent imprinted on the fabric... there would be no sleeping in that bed until he had a chance to strip the bedding.

Focusing on the things he could control, Bishop went through the chores of reclaiming his apartment. Stripping the bed, he set the sheets to wash and vacuumed off the back of the couch and under the cushions for good measure. He washed the single dirty glass and replaced it in the cupboard. There was still plenty of night left, so he methodically cleaned his array of weapons, whether they needed it or not, until he was satisfied with the results. It was too bad he couldn't call Mason over to spar for a while. That would have been a good way to get rid of his excess energy, but then he'd have to explain why Anja wasn't there. Even her absence intruded into his thoughts.

Accepting that no matter how he tried to fill the hours, his mind kept returning him to a certain young blonde, Bishop resolved to chase her memory away with another. Retrieving a carved cherrywood box from the top of his closet, he set it on the table, staring at the closed lid. Without opening it, he rose and poured himself a glass of wine, a deep burgundy from Lyon. Swirling the wine in the goblet, Bishop glanced at the small chest, unsure if he wanted to awaken that particular ghost of the past.

He found himself sitting in front of the grand piano, frowning at the bottom of his glass. It was impossible to think of Carys and not think of the music. He could see the light marks of fingers on the glossy piano - did Anja play? He knew she attended a school for fine arts, but not much more than that. Bishop opened the fallboard, revealing the keys. Even after all this time he could hear the music, and his fingers itched to play the way he had played for her. Would they still remember all the notes? Fingers arched, they found their home at middle C, hovering there for long seconds before the overwhelming sense of loss suffused him, and he closed the door to those memories before they could claim him again.

Chapter Ten

One good thing about being a vampire, I didn't get tired at all walking uphill on the way home. Despite telling Bishop I could make it home fine, I didn't have my purse or phone with me, so catching the bus or calling a friend for a ride was out of the question. I thought about catching a cab, but the stroll was refreshing, and helped clear my head.

I wasn't really sure what Bishop's deal was, but I wasn't the type of girl to grab him and plant a kiss on him to prove there was a spark between us. Nor was I the type to stand outside his window with a boombox over my head. I was plenty used to unrequited crushes, if not outright rejection, though that was rare because I never put myself out there to get turned down. Convinced I'd likely never see him again, I set off to reclaim my life the way it was before waking up in the morgue.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I got home. The last time I'd seen Bridget, I'd been attached to her hand by the mouth, using her like my own private juice box. Though Bishop had promised me he'd taken care of it, I had no idea what that actually entailed. Had he wiped her memory and sent her to bed? I was afraid she'd react to me with fear based on some visceral level that knew I'd attacked her, but all I got was a broad wink when I walked through the door.

"Someone had a good time last night. I didn't know you had it in you."

"What? No, it wasn't like that."

"Don't give me that, I saw the guy. What did the two of you get up to after I went out on my date?"

I wasn't even sure she'd gone on the date; she'd been in her room when I went out the window the night before. God, was it really only the night before? "Nothing, we just talked." Not a lie...

"Oh come on, what a waste of perfectly good man meat! Are you telling me you didn't end up in bed together?

I had ended up in his bed... The memory of Bishop comforting me after my nightmare came back then with startling clarity, and I took a moment to relive what it felt like to be safe in his arms. I guess it made my face go all soft and dreamy, because she called me out on it.

"I knew it! Sinner..." she giggled with delight.

"I didn't sleep with him, but he did let me sleep in his bed. He was a perfect gentleman," I insisted, and her shoulders took on a disappointed slouch.

"Aw, I'm sorry An, maybe on the next date then. Oh, you might want to check your messages, your phone's been beeping all day."

It was after eight p.m. and I had twelve voicemails on my cell. Not too bad, at least I was missed while I was gone. Not being up and around during the day was going to be a problem. Even though Bishop assured me I wouldn't burst into flames, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to function for the bulk of the day. I had no idea how I was going to make it through school.

Listening to the voicemails, one was an automated message from the library reminding me my books were due. The rest were from Melissa, the other soprano in my jazz group. It was way past rehearsal time and I'd completely blown it off, something I'd never done before. With a wince, I listened as each message got more frantic, her neurotic personality kicking into overdrive. Of course, that might have been me calling a week ago. Before vampires came into my life, music had been the most important facet of my life.

"Melissa, hi... I'm so sorry..." I tried to head off her tirade as I called her back, but it ended up being easier to let her vent for the first thirty seconds. "No, I realize that, I was so sick, I couldn't reach my phone." Not a lie... I'd slept like the dead all day long, that had to count for something. "No, I understand... you know I'm committed... yes, I understand the pressure that puts on you." Frak, it was just one rehearsal, she acted like I'd put Tabasco in her cough syrup. "I promise you I'll be there at the next rehearsal, and I'll see you in class tomorrow. Sorry again."

"I hope it's not catching," Bridget called out, leaning over to buckle up her clunky boots.

"Don't worry. On second thought, maybe you'd better not get too close to me," I amended after a moment's thought. It was probably for the best to avoid getting too close to any humans until I learned better control. Of course that assumed I'd learn better control. I'd never been able to resist brownies either.

"I've got to get to work, so you're good. Unless you need me to stick around?" She looked almost hopeful, but I wasn't sure if that was because she was actually worried about me or eager to get out of work.

"No, I'll be fine, have a good time at work."

"That's an oxymoron if ever I heard one," she muttered, pulling on her coat. "Laters."

The apartment wasn't as quiet as I normally found it with Bridget gone. Without trying too hard, I could tell what each of the neighbors were doing, but quickly lost interest with that game. If I wanted to watch old re-runs of the Munsters, I could turn on my own TV.

I got a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror on the way in to take a shower. Instead of looking like hell for not having showered in over twenty-four hours, I looked... pretty good. Better than pretty good even.

There was no sign of the dark circles under my eyes that followed my escape from the hospital. My blue eyes were bright and clear, my vision crisper than it was with my glasses. My hair has probably always been my nicest feature, it came to just below my shoulder blades and it fell in soft waves now, lighter and more lustrous even under the harsh bathroom light. It wasn't greasy or stringy from missing a washing and my face wasn't shiny at all. I started to grasp that unless I got outwardly dirty, I probably wouldn't need to shower at all. I still took one though, relishing the feel of the hot water coursing over my body.

Changing into soft, familiar pajamas, I got ready for bed like I always did at night, but I wasn't the least bit sleepy. Retrieving the card Bishop gave me, I keyed it into my phone under B and stuck the card itself between the mirror and the frame of my dresser for safekeeping. Thirsty and feeling peckish, I stole some of Bridget's vegetable juice, vowing to replace it the next time I went to the store. The salty drink hit the spot and I settled onto the couch for a movie marathon with my cozy blanket.

Near dawn I shuffled into the bedroom, shutting the blinds up tight as the yawns started to become more frequent. I noted as an aside that my retainer didn't fit right anymore and filed it away as one of those things not to worry about anymore as I climbed into bed.

Lying there in the dark, I couldn't help but wonder what Bishop was doing at that moment. Was he lying in bed in his darkened apartment too? Was he alone, or did he have some other blonde lying beside him? Just as quickly as that thought slipped in I pushed it aside, not wanting to go there. My last thought was of the feel of his lips brushing against mine in passing as I said my goodbyes.

* * *

I used to love school.

Not only the social aspect of it, but the actual learning. Not the most popular thing to admit to, but I liked it. I was good at it. It made me feel good to get decent grades or when my parents praised me for it. I even admit I liked the feeling when they would say 'Why can't you be more like your sister?' to Hanna, who never cared a whit what they thought. Frak... maybe I was a book nerd after all?

But as I arrived at the school, dark sunglasses and long sleeves firmly in place, I found it hard to rouse any interest in being there. I couldn't help but view each classroom and old acquaintance with new eyes. When had the acoustic ceiling tiles become so water stained and dingy? When had the cafe stopped serving meat in the Salisbury steak? When had the overhead projector in English Lit started to smell like old socks? All of those observations assailed me as I sat through class, but I didn't find myself distracted. No, my brain catalogued those tidbits and more as I devoured the lessons, reading and working ahead in class easily while still following a half dozen whispered conversations before class was over.

The sea of bodies around me as I left the room was... intoxicating. To be surrounded by the cacophony of voices and so many beating hearts... it was an overload on my enhanced senses, and I fell back against the nearest wall, letting it all wash over me, a vaguely dazed look on my face, I'm sure.

Beyond the sharp scents of too much perfume, deodorants, hair products and more, wafted the unmistakable smell of blood. My eyes immediately sought to track down the source, flicking to rest on a skater guy who winced over a fresh road rash on both elbows. My mouth started to water and I unconsciously licked my lips, taking a step in his direction before I forced myself to stop, eyes squinching shut until the wind changed and I could think again. It was pure torture taking a step backwards, and then another, putting as much space as possible between me and the temptation before I did something unforgivable. Only the knowledge that I had to get to rehearsal kept me from giving too much thought to waiting for the guy to wander off alone and unprotected...

* * *

Most people couldn't understand why I majored in Voice, mostly because it scared the bejeezus out of me. Not all the time. I could sing with a group with no problems at all. Sure, I got a little nervous before a performance, but as long as there was someone singing along beside me, it was no trouble whatsoever. It didn't have to be a large group either, I've done well with a quartet or even a duet. But something about singing anything solo sent my nerves into chaos. It didn't matter if I was singing in front of a packed auditorium or a living room full of people at a karaoke party.

If I knew I had a solo coming up, even in rehearsal, my stomach would tie into knots, and I'd get the shakes. If it got really bad, my upper lip would start to twitch while I sang too, or my eyes would start to tear. It didn't usually affect my performance, but it turned me into a nervous wreck if I had too many solo spots lined up. At the same time, I wanted to sing solos in the worst way. Whenever a new piece was announced, I'd get a surge of desire to try out for it. Maybe it was a sick need to make myself miserable, or a masochistic streak, but I couldn't resist signing up to try out.

Apart from the jazz group that practiced twice a week, I had my one on one's, the regular choir and the concert choir rehearsals to attend. They generally kept me busy most evenings. We were preparing for a performance in three weeks and would be practicing with the orchestra that night, which meant a double dose of stomach wringing nerves since Trent would be there.

Trent was my biggest source of shame and embarrassment, and every time I saw him, I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in over me to hide. He was the one guy to pay any attention to me in college, and I fell for him hard. I'd thought he'd fallen for me too, especially when he asked me to move in with him, and I blithely gave up my student housing to begin our new lives together. Unfortunately, it wasn't as mutual, or I should say not as exclusive as I'd thought, because I found out he was seeing Bridget on the side.

Since then I'd mostly avoided him, except when we had those joint rehearsals. Trent played the double bass, and I knew he also played an electric bass in a local band, which was how Bridget met him. I always thought that if I played by the rules and was as nice as I could be, I would meet a nice guy in return who would love me for who I was. At least, that's the stuff they preach at you in Hallmark movies. I wasn't feeling nearly so nice when he came into view that night.

As if I'd had a jolt of espresso, my energy level shot up as the sun slipped from the sky. The sluggish boredom was replaced by an eager anticipation of being immersed in music, my true passion. I was glad to see the clumsiness disappeared as well, as I stopped crashing into things the darker it got outside. Finding my way to my spot on the risers, I loosened my scarf, suddenly feeling too warm. Discounting it as the lights, I smiled to Leona and Ivy, who I stood between on the stage. There was little time to chat before Professor Matthews arrived and called us all to order.

"Thank you all for being here promptly," he greeted us with a benign smile. "Before we get started on the new cantata, I would like to open up with auditions for the quartet piece O Occhi Manza Mia. Let's start with the sopranos if you please. Come down, my little butterflies, right here down front."

I knew that part backwards and forwards, I'd been practicing it for the better part of two weeks at home. If I was picked for the piece I knew I'd be fine. It was a four part harmony with no solos, but in order to get there, I'd have to audition by myself. It was almost enough to keep me rooted to my spot, but Ivy gave me a little nudge.

"Go on, Anja, you know you want to," she whispered as the other three sopranos descended the risers.

Teeth worrying at my bottom lip, I took a step forward, and then another, hurrying to be counted among the auditioners before it was too late. It was starting already - my hands were warm and sweaty, and I felt like I had hedgehogs playing leap frog in my belly.

One by one, they sang a capella after being given a single note from the piano. There was a polite smattering of applause, and the next person stood forward to give their rendition of the classical piece. All too soon it was my turn, and I gave the Professor a fleeting smile as I heard my note being given.

I couldn't look at them.

Focusing on the lights in the back of the auditorium, I began to sing. As long as I focused on that spot, I could do it. The music took hold of me then. I swayed lightly as I sang of my beloved, my voice swelling and falling with emotion, hearing the other harmonies blending in my mind. The last note hung in the air, seeming to fill the auditorium, though I knew it likely didn't reach past the first section on my own.

I drew in a shaky breath as I finished, eyes rapidly blinking as I focused on those around me again. I was mortified to find all eyes on me, the theater quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Was I so terrible not a single person thought to give me even a golf clap of acknowledgement? Swallowing in discomfort, I jumped when as a whole, they all burst into enthusiastic applause. Even the girls I'd been competing against clapped for all they were worth. One of them had tears in her eyes.

Professor Matthews looked like he wanted to hug me, but settled for patting me on the shoulder awkwardly, announcing I had the part. Overwhelmed by the response, I nodded and murmured my thanks to the congratulations that surrounded me as I retook my place on the risers.

"Wow, Anja, that was so amazing! Wasn't it, Leona?" Ivy gushed.

"It was so... so beautiful. It made me want to cry," Leona nodded fervently. The other girls around me echoed the sentiments with excited words of praise as the group buzzed over my performance. Had it really been that good? It sounded fine to me, but I'd been so nervous at the time, I could hardly be the judge. After a few moments of chatter, the professor called the next group of altos down, and the tryouts resumed.

"Looks like you have an admirer," Ivy whispered.

Looking up, I caught sight of a man standing in the rear of the auditorium, staring at me intently. Despite the shadows that masked half of his body, the piercing blue eyes arrested my attention. I knew him... I felt it in my bones, but from where?

"Maybe he's a scout from the S.F. Choral Society?"

"Wouldn't that be something," I whispered back, unable to take my eyes off of him. But what were the odds a scout would happen to come on the one night I kicked booty on an audition? I wasn't that lucky.

"Maybe he wants to take you away from here to tour across Europe?" Leona giggled, and I saw the man's lips quirk in response. Had he somehow heard us? A quick check showed there were no microphones anywhere near us, and with the singing going on, it was nigh impossible. I looked back to see if he was still following our conversation and there was no sign of him.

"I guess he wasn't all that impressed after all," I sighed.

"Someone else was though. Don't look now, but Trent's giving you the eye." Ivy nudged me towards the orchestra pit, where my ex was indeed hoping to catch my eye with that smile he had... the one I'm sure he knew was almost irresistible. Almost.

"I'd like to give him a black eye..." I muttered, feeling a little hot under the collar again. Stripping off my scarf, I tossed it to the side of the stage, out of the way. Weren't vampires not supposed to be susceptible to hot or cold? Why did I feel like I was burning from the inside?

"Anja! What's come over you? I've never heard you talk like that before," Ivy whispered, her brows drawing together in puzzlement.

It wasn't common knowledge that Trent was a lying, two-timing, sonofabitch. I hadn't gone public with many of the details of our break up. "Let's just say I've gone through some changes lately," I murmured back, deliberately turning away from Trent's gaze.

The rest of the rehearsal went well. I was conscious of the fact that my voice was more powerful, and I had to make an effort to tone it down to blend in with the other sopranos around me. Also, I had a tendency to reach an almost trance-like state whenever there was an instrumental break and I wasn't singing. When it was all over, Professor Matthews waved to me.

"Anja, I would like to speak to you a moment, if you please." Here it came, he'd noticed I wasn't paying as close attention as I should have been. Would he take away my shot at the quartet? "I know it is short notice, but I would like you to be a featured soloist at our next performance. I was thinking perhaps something by..."

"I'm sorry," I interrupted him before he picked up too much steam. "It's not really a good time for me, Professor Matthews. I have a lot going on." Understatement of the year... Even though it was a chance every girl in the room would kill for, I felt uneasy making any kind of commitment when I wasn't sure I could deliver.

"My dear, you have been given a gift from God, it is a sin to waste it."

What would he think if he knew the gift wasn't from God, but from one of the damned? Not that I was sure all vampires were damned, but wasn't it a well debated concept, whether or not vampires had souls? I was pretty sure if God was going to be ticked at me at the pearly gates, it would have less to do with squandering my 'gift' and more to do with becoming one of the undead.

"I understand, sir. Maybe next semester would be better though."

"Anja... I know you suffer from stage fright, but look how beautifully you managed tonight! Here, I thought, she is finally breaking free of her cocoon and transforming into what she was meant to be!" He didn't know the half of it... "If you keep putting off 'til tomorrow what you should do today, someday there will be no tomorrows left, only yesterday."

Somewhere in there was a piece of advice to live by, but it was all too new, and that kind of stress was the last thing I needed. "Let me think about it, alright?" I already knew the answer, but I suspected that he'd accept my decision easier if he thought I'd given it serious thought.

"Fine, fine, we'll talk more at the next rehearsal," he nodded, dismissing me.

Released from that awkward conversation, I went in search of my scarf, even though I still felt hot under the collar, but there was no sign of it. "Who steals a scarf?" I muttered in irritation. Turning around, I nearly ran into the solid wall of Trent's chest. "This night keeps getting better and better," I frowned, not bothering to hide my displeasure.

Chapter Eleven

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked when he just stood there, that stupid grin on his face. The one I used to find adorably charming.

"I thought maybe we could go talk somewhere."

"Well, you thought wrong." That was the last thing I was interested in doing. I had the entire night ahead of me, and even sitting alone in my apartment with a Golden Girls marathon sounded better than talking to him.

"Don't be like that, Anja. I thought you still wanted to be friends."

"You want to be my friend?" My voice rife with skepticism, I fixed him with a flat, unfriendly look. "Friends don't betray each other, let alone boyfriends."

"You never let me explain about that, An. I made a mistake, I should have told you about her, but I'd already decided to break things off. You're the one I asked to move in with me, remember?" His voice dripped of sincerity, but I wasn't interested in his excuses.

"Oh please, you were still hot and heavy with her when I showed up with the movers."

"That was a goodbye kiss, I swear."

Ugh, what a pig. "Do you honestly think you're helping your case right now?"

"Your parents love me, doesn't that count for something?"

"Surprisingly, no. Then again, they don't know anything about your walk on the wild side with Bridget." I turned and took a step away from him and he reached out to grab hold of my arm.

"Anja, she meant nothing to me, you're the one I want. And when I saw you up there tonight... it was like... it was like I heard the voice of an angel telling me you're the one."

"Get your hand off of me, Trent. I'm warning you." I knew I was strong enough to break free. Heck, I was strong enough to tear his arm out of its socket, but I didn't want to cause a scene.

He ignored my advice though. "Just give me one more shot. I know we can make it work."

"I'm not kidding. If you don't let me go, you'll regret it," I repeated the low warning, but his smile grew wider, his voice tinged with condescension.

"You're adorable when you're angry, did you know that? Now why don't you let me make things up to you?" He pulled me closer and my hand shot out, almost of its own volition, cracking him soundly across the cheek. He went down like a sack of potatoes, a bruise already starting to form there.

"I'm sorry!" Christ, had I really hit him? I'd never hit another person before in my life. While on the one hand, it was exhilarating to show him he couldn't push me around, I also felt awful for having knocked him out. What if I'd really hurt him? Good... a mean-spirited little voice inside whispered. "Trent?" I knelt down beside him, patting his cheek gently. A crowd of onlookers started to gather around, curious to find out what was going on and my cheeks blazed with the heat of embarrassment.

"Five more minutes, Mom," he murmured, nuzzling against my thigh, and I pushed him away. He was too hard headed to be seriously hurt. There was more danger of my reputation suffering serious injury. Thanks to my vampire hearing, I was privy to every whispered speculation.

"He's fine guys, nothing to see here." Assured he would find plenty of assistance should he need it, I slipped out of there as fast as I could, eager to get outside into the night air. Instead of taking the bus as I usually did at night, I decided to walk to take advantage of the cooling breeze. After all, I wasn't too afraid of getting mugged anymore after my show of strength. I hadn't even been trying and I'd knocked Trent out cold. Even if someone shot or stabbed me, I would heal quickly, according to Bishop.

Bishop.

Nope. I wasn't going to think about him, I had to start relying on myself. Sitting around at home every night hadn't gotten me Prince Charming. All I'd gotten for my efforts were a cheating boyfriend, a surly but well meaning roommate, and a mysteriously absentee Sire. It was time to stop being a doormat and take control of my own destiny instead of waiting for someone to chart it out for me.

Somehow I had to learn how to blend my old life with my afterlife. I had to learn how to push my boundaries and figure out what being a vampire meant to someone like me. So far I hadn't felt the need to feed apart from when seeing fresh blood triggered the thirst. That was fine with me, because the idea of actually stalking someone and sinking my teeth into their flesh... kind of made mine crawl. I didn't have the first clue how to go about hunting. Just because I knew I was capable of compelling someone into letting me feed on them and forgetting all about me didn't mean I had the foggiest notion of how to go about it. I figured eventually the thirst would win, and instincts would kick in, but what if they didn't? I needed answers, and there was only one place I knew of to get them.

"Anja my dear, this is the first night of the rest of your life," I murmured to myself as I turned onto my street. "Time to make the most of it."

* * *

What did one wear to a vampire bar?

That was the question I faced while standing in front of my closet. An interview with the Dean of Students? I had an outfit for that - a navy pencil skirt, pinstriped blouse and a pair of low heeled slingbacks. A performance - a black chiffon dress with a wide red sash around the waist and kitten heels. Hanging out at the local Java Hut - comfortable stretchy jeans with an off the shoulder pink sweater with a matching knit hat. But a vampire bar? The mind boggled.

I imagined there were all manner of vampires in the world. One couldn't think of vampires, especially female ones, without picturing a femme fatale, dressed in a scandalously, low cut dress, with blood red lips and waves of black hair spilling over bare shoulders, but that wasn't me at all. An older vampire of my supposed age would probably wear something refined, more like the chiffon dress, but would a bar be the right venue for that?

Bridget wasn't home, and I had no idea if she was out for the night or due home at any second. Feeling brave, I snuck into her room to steal a peek at her disorganized closet. Now there were clothes any vampire could sink their teeth into, if you'll pardon the phrase. More of a club goer, Bridget's clothes tended to be sexier, tighter and more adventurous than mine. Of course that was also true of a librarian, so almost anything was a step in the right direction.

I pulled out a black and purple corset top and held it up skeptically. It showed off so much skin... But it was time to try new things, right? I struggled to get into the thing, wondering how she managed to get dressed without help if her clothes were always so tight. A black leather mini-skirt was next, and four inch heels I was sure I'd kill myself in, but thanks to my added dexterity after dark, I didn't have much of a problem managing. As an afterthought, I picked up a stiff leather riding crop, wondering what she used that for.

A stranger looked back at me in the mirror, and I wasn't so sure I liked the effect. I definitely didn't look like the type of girl to be messed with, that was for darn sure. I almost wished Bishop could see me dressed up like that. Would he be able to dismiss me so easily?

"Is this what you do every night while I'm at work? Steal my shit and play mistress of pain?"

Bridget's voice caught me by surprise and I whirled, dropping the riding crop with a thud. Geez, where was my vampire spidey sense? "I'm sorry. I just... I felt like going out tonight and my stuff is so..."

"Antique?" she smirked.

"Exactly."

"And you thought you could help yourself to mine?" She retrieved the crop from the floor and stuck it between her dresser and the wall. It occurred to me that she was actually embarrassed I'd found it. I didn't think she even knew how to be embarrassed, but then again I hadn't given her cause to be before.

"I didn't think you'd mind. Friends share stuff, right? Like the milk." She never bought milk, she drank mine. It bothered me for about a month, and then I started buying a bigger container.

"Yeah okay, whatever." Bridget gave a careless shrug, already over her short display of vulnerability. "Where are you going? A strip club?" she snorted.

"What? No... is that what I look like?" My eyes returned to the mirror, I didn't think I looked that slutty.

"Relax, you don't look that bad, it's just..." She examined me with a critical eye. "This isn't the right look for you."

"I know, that's why I'm trying something new. I don't want to look like me anymore," I insisted. "Couldn't you help me with this, Bridge? I don't want to go out looking like a stripper, but something a little more..."

Bridget studied me a moment longer, before an eager gleam came into her eye. "Yeah, I think I can work with this," she grinned.

For the next half hour I let her play Rocker-Barbie dress up with me, as she tried and discarded clothing combinations I never in a zillion years would have come up with. I had to keep reminding her that my definition of slutty was a little different than hers. I wanted to learn to crawl before I could walk, and she seemed bent on pushing me from the crib at a dead run.

In the end I emerged in a fire engine red top that showed more cleavage than I would have liked, but at least I could wear a bra with it. Below I wore a short, black skirt with black seamed stockings. A pair of silver cuff styled bracelets adorned each wrist and a black velvet choker encircled my neck, a black ceramic rose dangling over the hollow of my throat. The only thing that remained from my original selection was the pair of four inch heels. After that it was another half hour in the bathroom doing hair and make up. If I'd known it would take that long, I might not have gone to all the trouble. Were there women out there that regularly went through such a rigmarole every day?

I had to admit, the end effect was definitely different. My blue eyes sparkled beneath the sooty black lashes and silver eye shadow, and I felt decidedly vixen-ish in the dark lipstick she selected.

"Damn, girl, I didn't even know you had boobs," Bridget grinned over her handiwork and I tried to take that as a compliment.

"Thanks, I think."

"So, where are we going?" she asked, transferring her phone and wallet to a spangly little purse.

"Ah, I was going to a bar called The Bleeding Heart, ever heard of it?"

"No, but we can look it up on my phone on the way, come on." She linked her arm through mine, tugging me towards the door.

"You're coming with me?" I blinked.

"You don't think I'm gonna waste this on a night alone on the couch, do you?" she gestured to her outfit. She ended up wearing the leather miniskirt with a Paramore t-shirt cut to reveal most of her midriff and knotted in the back to pull tight across her breasts. Low heeled boots and plenty of sparkly bangles completed the outfit. "Come on, let's have a little fun," she grinned and I found myself smiling back.

"Let's do it."

* * *

The club ended up being called the Bleeding Hart, not heart, as in a male deer. Their logo was a white deer leaping past a blood red moon. An odd choice for a vampire bar, but then again, I had no basis for comparison. I had no idea if it was a private club or not, and was all set to try and charm my way past the doorman, when he seemed to recognize right away that I was a vampire and let us by with a nod before I could think of a convincing lie. With a grateful smile, I strode into the lion's den, hoping I looked more like predator than prey.

Bridget didn't bat an eye at my nerves, chalking it up to my general lack of experience in such things and made a beeline for the bar. I hovered near the door, scanning the room, telling myself I was trying to see if there were any other vampires present, but who was I kidding? I was looking for one vampire alone. I spotted him right away, sitting at a corner table with Mason and an Asian guy, his eyes hooded beneath a dark scowl. Yep, that was him alright.

Without preamble, Bishop approached me, robbing me of the chance to bump into him accidentally. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a low voice.

"Getting a drink, same as you," I tried for a nonchalant shrug, but I started to feel awfully warm again.

"That's not why I'm here. I can't believe you brought your friend to a place like this."

"She has a name," I frowned. Why did he have to be so cranky all the time?

"I don't want to know her name." Bishop scowled, but then he seemed to tamp down whatever bothered him. When he spoke again, he sounded more concerned than angry. "You'd better keep an eye on her, it's dangerous to bring a human to a vampire bar."

"There are other humans here." I looked around, I could spot them easily in the crowd, though there were only a few.

"I didn't say it was forbidden, I said it was dangerous."

"She can take care of herself." That and I planned to make sure she survived the experience without learning what kind of a bar she'd been to.

"Can you?"

It almost sounded like he cared... but he was probably worried about the place erupting into bloodshed on his watch. "I'll be alright." My chin came up in determination.

"Just try and keep a low profile, alright?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," I replied with more confidence than I felt. More than anything I wanted to reach out and touch him, see him look at me with something other than disappointment, but for whatever reason, he decided I wasn't worth his time. So, instead of following after him like a puppy and insinuating myself into his conversation with Mason like I wanted to do, I turned to join Bridget at the bar.

In addition to the long, mahogany bar and the leather booths lining the walls, there were little round tables sprinkled along the edges of an open space that could be a dance floor, though nobody was on it. A single waitress wove her way through the tables and an old fashioned cigarette girl offered smokes and other party favors as well. I supposed vampires didn't have to worry about lung cancer. That didn't make it smell any better though, as easily half the patrons were enjoying a smoke. Buried beneath the smell of alcohol and the haze of smoke, the scent of something else... something delectable teased the edge of my senses.

"You don't have to hang out here with me if you'd rather go cozy up to your friend," Bridget was already working on her beer as I approached the bar.

"He's not my friend," I muttered sourly.

"Could have fooled me. He's staring at you like you're a cool drink on a hot, sweaty day."

My eyes went back to his corner, but Bishop didn't seem to be paying any attention to me at all, he was deeply engrossed in conversation with the other two. Mason gave me a lopsided grin though and I waved at him in return with a faint smile.

"Who's your friend?" The bartender sidled up with an appreciative smile for Bridget.

"You two know each other?" I blinked. I knew she hadn't been to the bar before, what were the odds she'd know the bartender?

"Oh yeah, we go way back, how long has it been, Scotty? Two... maybe three minutes?" Trust Bridget to make friends without any trouble at all.

"Hey beautiful, what can I get ya?" Scotty grinned, looking me up boldly from head to toe. He wasn't the type of guy I would normally talk to, he had more piercings visible on his face than anyone I'd seen before, but I knew from past experience with Bridget that looks could be deceiving. He was a vampire, which put us on the same side in my books. Ah, I was so naïve back then...

"Ah... surprise me, something strong, okay?" I flashed him a tentative smile.

"I've got just the thing," he winked, pulling out several bottles of alcohol, to concoct a fruity but lethal looking drink.

"I love this fucking song!" Bridget hopped off the barstool and took off for the dance floor, completely unheeding of the fact that no one else was dancing. Sometimes I really wished I had her lack of inhibition, but considering the way everyone in the bar now looked at her, I decided I was happier staying out of the limelight. The thing is, I was catching plenty of interest, I just didn't know it yet.

"Here you go," Scotty slid the tall glass across the mahogany bar, watching me expectantly.

I took a tentative sip, pleasantly surprised. "It's good, what is it?"

"Zombie with an extra kick of grenadine, glad you like it," he beamed over my simple praise, swabbing at the counter with a wet towel. "This is the first time I've seen you in here, are you in town for long?"

"I... haven't decided yet, I'm sort of playing things by ear," I answered noncommittally, remembering Bishop's advice.

"She's going to be here a good long time," a voice next to me said, and I turned to see a dapper man in his late twenties with dark hair and a closely sculpted beard smiling at me. He wore a fashionable suit of dark purple and diamond stud earrings winked from both of his ears. His accent sounded Australian, but subtle, not as broad as those ads on TV about shrimps on the barbie. "If we're lucky, that is."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I blinked, a little surprised at the interruption.

"Not yet. I'm Leander, pleased to make your acquaintance. I own this establishment."

I accepted his offered hand, surprised when he bent over it, kissing the air above my wrist. "Nice to meet you, Leander, this is a nice place you have here," I smiled politely. "But what makes you think I'll be around for very long?"

"Call it a psychic impression," he grinned, eyes twinkling.

"More like wishful thinking," another voice interrupted from my left, and I turned, blinking in déjà vu. His double popped up wearing an exact copy of the suit, only in a muted blue. "I'm Jarrod, Leander's elder brother and half-owner of the Hart. And you are?"

"Overwhelmed..." I breathed, taking his hand. Everyone was so friendly... I started to feel like the belle of the ball.

"You're smothering her, Jarrod. I was greeting our pretty young miss." Leander's smile was brittle.

"Poorly, you didn't even ask her name," his brother replied, unfazed.

"Anja," I said simply, leaving off my last name for the moment. "And I really should be getting back to my friend. How much do I owe you for the drink?" I looked to the bartender who had retreated a few feet with the arrival of the owners.

Scotty shook his head with a half shrug. "Nothing, it's on the house."

"Yes, of course it is. Anything you and your friend would care to order for the night is on the house," Jarrod offered smoothly.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly accept..."

"You'd best accept it, love. You wouldn't want to see my brother when he's been deprived of something he wants," Leander quipped, and I wasn't sure quite how to take that statement. Did he mean me, or was he being playful? "In fact, why don't the two of you join us at our table?"

I looked back to find Bridget on the dance floor, swaying to the beat with a total and complete stranger. For the space of a few seconds I gave myself a mental kick, some guardian I'd turned out to be. But once I realized the guy she danced with was human, I relaxed a little, figuring she could handle him. "Ah... yes, that would be very nice, thank you," I nodded my assent, holding onto my glass with both hands when they each looked like they wanted to take my arm. Unfortunately, they both took that as an invitation of sorts and looped their arms through mine, escorting me to their table like oddly matching bookends.

At the corner booth were two girls, both human and unremarkably pretty, one fair haired like me but deeply tanned, and the other with smooth café au lait skin and bright copper colored hair, an interesting mix. The man at the table wasn't a vampire, but he wasn't completely human either. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it definitely caught my attention. He was attractive, in a dangerous sort of way. Why I thought of danger... I wasn't really sure. He wasn't visibly armed, and there were a half dozen other men wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans in the bar. Hair so short I could clearly see his scalp through the dark stubble and five o'clock shadow to match, he exuded an easy confidence, even surrounded by predators. Didn't anyone own a razor anymore?

"We found ourselves a new friend," Jarrod beamed as soon as we reached the table. "This is Rob, Cammie and Jett. May I introduce Anja." He presented me like a trophy and I smiled and nodded to each of them, trying not to look as awkward as I felt. "Scoot down then, girls, make room." The girls each slid over without complaint, but Rob held his place, forcing one of the brothers to sit at each side of the semi-circular booth. I took the end spot, for which I was grateful, I would have felt trapped with either of the men blocking my way to the exit.

"I'm pleased to meet you all," I nodded to each in kind, taking another sip of my drink which cooled my dry, parched throat.

"Rob, now that we've found another companion, you can have Cammie. You don't mind, do you, sweetheart?" Leander said in an offhand manner. Clearly they weren't involved in any kind of serious relationship.

"I don't mind," Cammie smiled blandly, but Rob looked completely disinterested in the offer.

"Thanks all the same." His voice had a distinctly British lilt to it, but not polished, more like from the streets. "Don't need your castoffs, mate."

"Too right, Rob here does fine with the ladies, never you fear," Jarrod winked at me.

"So... how long have you owned this place?" I asked politely.

"Since nineteen twenty-three." Jarrod raised a champagne glass to his brother.

That made them both at least a hundred years old. I tried not to look too impressed, seeing as how I was supposed to be much older.

"It's nice to have a private place to relax with our kind and proper villains, eh Rob?" Jarrod raised his glass to Rob, but he didn't return the salute. Who knew vampires would be such heavy drinkers? But everyone there seemed to have an alcoholic beverage in front of them.

"Don't lump me in with you lot," Rob shook his head, eyes crinkling with a smile. "I'm just here for the free drinks."

"Do you always keep such unusual company?" I asked the man. I couldn't quite figure him out. He seemed almost annoyed by the twins' company, but there he was at their table. Was he really just there for the free booze?

"It seems that way these days, but things are looking up." He raised his beer to me before drinking, and I smiled softly over what I took to be a compliment.

"Now then, tell us every little dark secret you keep locked away in the dusty corners of your soul." Leander's eyes shone eagerly. "We want to learn absolutely everything there is to know about you."

Chapter Twelve

What had I opened myself up to? I darted a look at Bishop who dropped his eyes in the same motion, but I definitely had the feeling his eyes were on me. Was he listening to the conversation? Would he save me if I screwed up too badly? I opened my mouth to try deflecting Leander's question with a compliment on the music, when raised voices caught all of our attention.

"Get your own guy, bitch. This one's mine." Bridget's voice rose over the sound of the music.

"Who you calling a bitch, slut?" The other woman's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Dressed to kill in a green silk dress and shoes that cost more than a month's rent, the woman seemed out of place next to Bridget and the handsome blonde stud. He looked like an off duty construction worker in tight jeans, a blue button up shirt, and workboots.

With a groan, I realized Bridget was in the middle of an ugly triangle between the human she'd been grinding on and his vampire date.

"Your human is delightful. Does she taste as spicy as she sounds?" Leander leaned over to touch my hand.

"She's... a mouthful alright. If you'll excuse me please?" I was already getting up, hoping I could diffuse the situation before any blood was shed. Because honestly... I wasn't sure whose side I would land on if actual blood spilled.

"Of course, thanks again for the entertainment, Serena's been spoiling for a fight for weeks," he called out after me.

A glance to Bishop's table showed he was watching the situation, but he made no move to intercede. We were on our own.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I say slut?" Serena did indeed look like she was spoiling for a fight, the color of the dress suiting her mood well. "I meant to say skank. A skank who'll be nothing but a stain on the bottom of my shoe if you don't let go of my man this instant."

Bridget seemed unconcerned. "I have to say, it doesn't really feel like he's your man." She held her ground, and the object of discussion started to look a little worried.

"Uh... ladies, calm down now, there's more than enough of me to go around," he grinned, hands coming up in a supplicating manner.

Ugh, did that line ever work in the history of it being uttered? What on Earth made him think to attempt it with an angry vampire? I had to get in there before Romeo got himself or my best friend killed.

"Excuse me, ladies," I approached them, my voice pitched low even though I knew every vampire in the bar could hear our every word. "Let's handle this in a civilized manner, shall we?"

"Civilized stepped out of here two minutes ago. You should have kept a muzzle on your bitch, her ass is mine now." Serena looked angry enough to spit nails.

"Yeah, like you'd be my type if I did chicks," Bridget snorted and I could have happily throttled her myself. Couldn't she see the danger she was in? I supposed not, apart from the angry scowl, Serena didn't look all that dangerous in her designer heels. If I didn't know she was a vampire, I'd lay even odds Bridget could take her in a fight.

I tried to inject a rational note into the conversation, placing myself between both women, just in case. "I'm sure we can resolve this like adults. My mother taught me not to solve things with violence."

"I killed my mother over three hundred years ago, so I don't particularly care or remember what her pearls of wisdom were," Serena's lips curved into an arrogant sneer. "Since you're so big on lessons, let me teach you one. Learn to control your pet before you let it off its leash."

"Bring it, bitch!" Bridget thumped her chest with both hands, stepping around me to get right in her face.

In slow motion, I could see Serena's arm cock back, her hand forming a fist as she prepared to take Bridget's head off. Operating on pure instinct, my hand came up to stop hers, finding it incredibly easy to intercept. I was so intent on stopping her fist (which I assumed would be much stronger than mine), that I went a little overboard, driving her down to her knees with a cry of pain as I squeezed with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Holy shit..." Blonde guy took a step backwards and I heard a collective gasp in the room.

"I'm sorry!" I let go of her instantly, afraid I'd seriously hurt her from the way she immediately cradled the hand to her body. "But you can't go around tossing threats like that and expect not to get hurt."

"Trouble here?" Bishop appeared at my side, his face a perfect mask without recognition, as if he'd never met me before. Geez, was he going to arrest me for picking a fight? I thought vampires were allowed to handle petty disagreements as they saw fit? Breaking up a bar fight seemed out of his jurisdiction, especially since only one punch had been thrown.

"It's just a misunderstanding, Bishop, we're fine here. Aren't we?" I looked down at Serena and she immediately dropped her gaze, nodding.

"You tell her, An," Bridget leaned on my shoulder, gloating down at the vampire.

"How about you go sit the rest of this dance out? You look like you need to cool down a little yourself," I shrugged out from under her arm, turning her towards an empty table.

"Fine, I could use a drink anyway. You coming, Cole?"

The blonde guy looked torn, his gaze going back and forth between Bridget, Serena and me, as if he wasn't sure who to give his allegiance to. Serena refused to lift her head, and he looked to me next. Had I inherited a minion? "It's alright, Cole, is it? You can go get a drink with Bridget if you want to."

"Thank you, Mistress," he nodded, trotting off after her. I winced over the Mistress bit, giving him a benign inclination of the head.

Bishop grabbed hold of my upper arm, all but dragging me off the dance floor to a door marked 'employees only', while Serena tried to recover her dignity, picking herself up off the floor. "This is laying low?" he hissed, giving me a little shake, once we were alone.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I have no idea what I'm doing here!" I whispered back, not wanting anyone else to hear us.

"Go home."

"You're not my keeper, remember?"

"I'm serious Anja. You're in way over your head here. Go home and don't come back," he growled dangerously, but I was too incensed at the order to be afraid of him. I lost the apologetic tone as annoyance kicked in. I hadn't done anything wrong, just stepped in to protect my friend. Didn't I have as much right to be there as any other vampire?

"You're not the boss of me. You're not anything, not even my friend, remember? So you don't get to tell me what to do." My chin came up pugnaciously. After all, I'd survived my second fight of the night and it was still early. Why should I be afraid of him?

Bishop shoved me up against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to rattle my teeth. "I'll tell you anything I damn well feel like telling you to do, and you'll do it if you know what's good for you," he threatened, but that drink must have gone to my head, because I still wasn't afraid of him.

"Or what?"

"Huh?" he blinked, obviously not expecting me to challenge him.

"Or what? If I don't do what you tell me to. If I don't walk out that door and never come back again." I did my best to imitate his exact inflection when he spoke. "What'll you do to me?" For a long moment I wasn't sure if he wanted to kill me or kiss me, but in the end he let go of me with a little shove.

"Fine, you want to get yourself killed, be my guest. I wash my hands of the entire situation."

"Fine."

"Fine," he repeated as we stared back at each other, neither one of us making a move to leave.

"I hate to interrupt your little lover's spat, but ah... Cage and I have to roll." Mason ducked his head in through the door with a look on his face that told me he wasn't the least bit sorry for interrupting us.

"Fine, go then," Bishop scowled, not bothering to turn and look at him, his eyes boring into mine.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is it my turn to get ordered around? I thought Anja drew that straw today." Mason winked at me and I covered my smile with a hand. Bishop's eyes closed then and I felt a stab of pity for him, things weren't going they way he wanted them to at all.

"You don't have to go on my account, Mason. I was finishing up my business with Bishop here. You can go have your boy talk now." I smiled, scooting out from under Bishop's nose to squeeze past Mason at the door. "Nice to see you again so soon."

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he drawled.

Part of me wanted to linger and listen to what came next in their conversation, but the practical part of me decided to go while the getting was good. Aware that all eyes swung back in my direction once I re-entered the bar, I found Bridget sitting at one of the round tables, surprised but relieved to find her alone.

"What happened to Cole?"

"Eh, he was too much of a mama's boy for me. I mean I like to explore domination as much as the next girl, but nobody likes a bottom that's scared shitless to breathe without permission, you know?" I nodded like I understood what she was talking about, but I was sure there was more to what she said that went completely over my head. "Thanks for getting my back earlier. I could have taken that twit, but it's nice to see you represent."

"Right, about that... Bridget, you have to be more careful in a place like this..." I began, but I could see she was only half listening to me, her eyes on Scotty the bartender.

"Whatever, I've been in way tougher bars than this place. I'm not afraid of some chick who'll start to cry the second you scuff her shoes," she snorted. I wondered if I should try again to impress her with the danger of what might have happened had I not intervened, but in the end I decided it might be better to let it all blow over.

I wasn't much of a drinker, so when the waitress came over in her retro fifties cocktail dress, I shook my head. "No thanks, I'm good." I probably should have thought of that before I'd come to hang out in a bar.

"Compliments of Mr. Kursik," she smiled, dipping low to place the fresh zombie before me.

"I don't know any Mr. Kursik." There had to be a mistake, though the drink did look tasty, and I was feeling warm and parched again. Did all vampires go through hot flashes? Was it part of the transition process, or was I going through early menopause because of my unusually aged blood?

"It appears he wants to get to know you," she smiled mischievously, her head nodding towards a table where an elegant man in a dove gray suit watched me intently. Standing directly behind him was a hulk of a guy dressed in leathers, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, looking dangerously alert. Bodyguard? Why would a vampire need one in a vampire bar? Kursik's blue eyes immediately caught my attention. Did I know him? The way he looked at me... the man lacked flowing hair, but he was blonde sure enough. Could he be my Viking? The name didn't sound Scandinavian, but the ID in my pocket didn't have my true name on it either. Clearly I couldn't judge a book by its cover. "Ah, please send him my thanks," I murmured, realizing the waitress still hovered, watching the two of us.

"See, I told you that was a good look for you. You should go talk to him, thank him in person," Bridget nudged me, and I realized I'd almost forgotten she was there, still nursing her beer.

"I don't think that's a very good plan, I don't want to give him the wrong idea." The way he watched me made me feel like he already had an idea or two.

"I think he looks sexy."

"I think he looks dangerous."

Bridget gave an indelicate snort. "Why else did you come here, Anja? Were you thinking you might find some new members for your glee club?"

"It's not a glee club," I scowled, looking away.

"Maybe you're due for a bit of dangerous?"

She had a point. What was I doing there anyway? I wanted to talk to vampires, didn't I? I raised the glass, holding it up to Kursik in a salute before I drank deeply. The burn of the alcohol somehow made me feel stronger.

"Atta girl," Bridget winked. "Now go talk to him."

My eyes flicked to where Bishop stood in the corner with Mason, both men seemed oblivious of Kursik's interest. "I think I need another drink first."

"Coward," she hissed as I headed for the bar to see the tattooed bartender.

"Are you looking for a job?" Scotty asked, as soon as I approached the bar.

"A job?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking we could use you as a bouncer. That was pretty impressive back there," he grinned and I caught sight of another piercing inside his mouth. Wow.

"Serena was more bluster than anything else," I replied dismissively, hoping it would all blow over soon.

"The look on her face was priceless. I think she seriously underestimated you. Maybe we all did." Scotty leaned across the bar and I got the distinct impression he was checking me out again.

Oh boy..."Really, it was nothing..."

"But actually, I meant how you stood up to Bishop in the back. Not many of us would willingly disobey him like that. You've got some brass ones, baby."

"You heard that?" My eyes widened. Bishop was going to kill me if it ever got back to him.

Scotty shrugged. "Some of it. I take it the two of you know each other fairly well?"

"Better than he'd like," I murmured, and he chuckled, pushing another drink across the bar to me. On the plus side they were definitely all buying that I wasn't a newborn, but I was drawing more attention than I'd intended. That, and now how was I supposed to ask any questions when they'd assume I already knew the ins and outs of vampire life?

"Well, here's to hoping we get to know you better here too." He pulled a bottle out from under the bar, raising it to me before taking a deep swig. I sipped dutifully at my drink, surprised I wasn't feeling more of the effects. I didn't feel drunk or out of control at all, just bolder, like there were no consequences of anything I did.

"I'm sure this won't be the last time you see me," I conceded. No matter what Bishop had to say about it... Turning back around, a shock went through me as I found Bridget wasn't at our table. Had Serena come back and dragged her out? My eyes scanned the bar, a breath of relief leaving me as I spotted her sitting with that Kursik guy. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? At least she wasn't rubbing up all over him, she just chatted up a storm like she did with most people.

"Excuse me, Scotty. I'd better go join my friend before she ends up in another mess," I murmured, keeping my eyes on the pair. Kursik's gaze swung towards mine the moment I took a step in their direction and I had a moment's trepidation, but I tried hard to keep it from showing on my face. You are a strong, confident vampire...

"So pleased you could join us," Kursik rose with fluid grace as I approached, pulling out his own chair for me. His voice was like smooth obsidian, dark and polished, his English well spoken with a faint Russian accent. "Your lovely companion was regaling me with the tale of your adventures this evening. Really, very stimulating," he smiled, taking the seat beside me.

"Oh, it wasn't such a big deal. Just a little girl talk," I tried to downplay it.

"You are too modest, Miss..."

"Anja, Anja Eh...Gudrun." I remembered my false name at the last moment, hoping Bridget wouldn't rat me out.

"Yeah, you're too modest, An. You put her down like a dog, I didn't know you had it in you," Bridget grinned. If she noticed the name change, she didn't react to it.

"There's plenty you might find surprising about me," I murmured, shooting her a look. "Why don't you go see your friend Scotty, get yourself another drink?"

"What a good idea." Bridget rose, catching on to the fact that I wanted to be alone with the guy, though I'm sure she had the wrong idea about why. "Can I get one for you, man?" she looked up at the imposing guard who stood off to the side, but he gave no sign that he heard her at all.

"Booth does not drink... alcohol." Kursik waved the offer away and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes over that one, it was a little melodramatic, like those old black and white vampire movies.

"Then I'll have one for him. Later, Anja." With a final wink, she scooted off to flirt with Scotty, who I'm sure filled her in on the news that our drinks were on the house for the night, since I noticed she switched to boilermakers.

"I almost forgot to thank you for the drink earlier, that was very kind of you." I remembered my manners belatedly.

"It was nothing," he waved my thanks away. "In truth, I hoped to speak with you tonight. You present an interesting contradiction." Kursik studied me boldly, his bright eyes assessing carefully.

"I do?"

"Oh yes, I find you a delightful combination of old world charm and modern sensibilities. It is not often one meets one of our race that has learned to adapt so well."

Holy moley, it sounded like he'd been giving it quite a lot of thought. How closely had he been watching me? "How do you mean?"

"Your appearance caught my eye, of course. You have managed the modern trappings better than most. But the skilful use of power... enough to pacify the situation without abusing your position. Masterfully done, my dear." He raised his glass to me and I raised mine in turn, buying time to figure out how to reply as I took a sip. The guy gave me way more credit than I was due for flying by the seat of my pants, but I'd take it if it bought me the right kind of street cred.

"I dislike confrontation as a rule," I said finally, and he leaned forward, completing my sentence with his own.

"But if you give an inch, they'll take a mile. No one will make that mistake with you again, will they? You've shown you're not to be trifled with." His eyes glittered with what I took as admiration.

"That was the general idea," I returned his smile, trying to look as though it had been my intention the whole time. Even if I did live to be a few hundred years old, I didn't think I'd ever have his poise. The guy oozed power in a way that made me feel a little on edge, but not in a bad way, it was exhilarating. It was like... standing at the top of a very tall building and looking down. I felt small and powerless beside him, but there was the smallest urge to lean out further, to see how far I could take it.

I decided to go on the offensive; he seemed to like strong women, I couldn't let him dominate the conversation. "Have we met before, Mr. Kursik? You seem almost familiar to me."

"I'd like to believe we'd both remember it with much more clarity if we had. And please, call me Aleksandr." The look in his eyes pierced me right down to my toes. Oh yes, I definitely would have remembered him if I'd met him before. He was definitely not the man I'd seen at the auditorium earlier that night.

"Only if you call me Anja," I agreed. "Have you been in San Francisco long, Aleksandr?"

"Not long, only a few days, but I intend to stay a while to expand my holdings here. What of you? I don't recall hearing any mention of someone of your delicious attributes on my past visits."

Delicious attributes. Did he want to date me or eat me? "I've been here for ages," I replied vaguely, but then I remembered that didn't exactly synch up with the fact that no one in the bar knew me except for Bishop. "I've made my home here, but I only recently decided to rejoin the local community," I added quickly, figuring it stood to reason that vampires might take a time out every now and again.

"It appears I've come at an opportune time then. Perhaps we can discuss a joint venture in the future."

"Perhaps," I smiled serenely, taking a sip of my drink, but on the inside I was a bundle of nerves. I assumed a vampire of his age or mine would have all sorts of business holdings, was he proposing we get into bed together for a business venture or something more literal? "This is a business trip for you then?"

"I hope I'm skilled enough to know how to combine business with pleasure."

Those eyes did things to me, the sort of things usually reserved for mooning over movie stars I knew I'd never get a chance to meet, and I did a surreptitious check to make sure I wasn't drooling. "Here's to a productive trip for you then," I raised my glass, not exactly sure what I was proposing, but I was dying to find out. At that point I didn't even care if he was giving off equal parts dangerous and sexy vibes, I was willing to live a little dangerously now that I was dead.

Unfortunately, Bridget picked that moment to reappear, weaving slightly as she made her way back to the table. "Hey An, this place kinda blows, I wanna go dancing. I know this club on Stark, where it's hoppin' until dawn. How about we roll down there and see what's shaking? Or no... how about we go get blueberry pancakes!" Her eyes grew wide with excitement, convinced in the brilliance of her plan even as she wavered in place.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Bridge. You've had too much hopping already. I think maybe I'd better get you home." Before she said anything else to give me away...

Aleksandr's eyes flashed with annoyance before his smile reasserted itself. "Your friend has perhaps had enough excitement for the night. I could easily arrange for an escort to take her home if you would like to continue our discussion somewhere more private?"

Oh I was tempted... but I couldn't ditch Bridget with one of his lackeys. Plus, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to be completely alone with the guy yet, even though part of me was dying to find out what he had in mind. "That's very kind of you, but I'll see her home. I brought her here, she's my responsibility."

"Get over yourself," she snorted. "One fight and you think you're all that. I can take care of myself."

"Bridget, that's enough, wait for me outside." I made my voice low and deadly serious, praying the message got through to her alcohol soaked brain before she ruined everything. To my relief, she fixed me with a sunny smile.

"Wait for you outside," she beamed, lurching for the door.

Allowing myself a brief prayer of thanks for small miracles, I turned back to face him with a rueful grin. "I'm sorry, I really do need to go. It was great meeting you though, Aleksandr." I got to my feet, ready to make a break for it if I heard Bridget get into any trouble and he rose with fluid grace, pulling the chair out for me. His calm façade back in place, Aleksandr had an air of easy come, easy go that made me wonder if he was all that disappointed after all. But when he spoke, it was of seeing me again.

"Perhaps we might meet again. Sometime where there are fewer... distractions."

Was that vampire speak for give me your phone number? I wasn't sure I wanted to give him my cell and I didn't want to ask for his for a round of 'don't call me, I'll call you'. In the end I settled for, "I'll be around." With what I hoped was a mysterious smile, I left him in the bar. It didn't even occur to me to turn around and see if Bishop was still there.

Chapter Thirteen

I half expected to find Bridget long gone by the time I got outside, but I was gratified to find her standing on the sidewalk corner, smoking. Only she wasn't alone. I swear that girl was like a guy magnet. How did she manage to draw them so quickly? Almost immediately I recognized Rob from inside and I relaxed a little. At least it wasn't a total stranger.

"Hi guys." It felt good to be out in the cold night air, even though my legs were scantily clad.

"Hey An, you don't have to take me home after all, Bob here is gonna come get some blueberry pancakes with me," Bridget clung to his arm, mostly for balance as near as I could tell.

"It's Rob," he corrected her mildly. "And actually, what I said was, I'd see you both home safely. No mention was made of pancakes, blueberry or otherwise."

"You can get chocolate chip pancakes if you want," she amended, and I jumped in before he had a chance to change his mind.

"Thanks all the same, Rob, but it's not necessary. I can make sure she gets home alright."

"Still, I'll sleep better tonight if I know you're both home safe," he insisted. "I've got a car right around the corner. I'll be back in two shakes, yeah?"

"I'll wait to shake it 'til you get back," Bridget grinned sloppily. Maybe it would be easier to get her home in a car in the shape she was in. How many boilermakers did she have?

"Thanks Rob." I gave him a nod over the top of her head and he strode off with a whistle.

"Dibs on the Brit, you can have the Russkie," Bridget called out before he was even out of earshot.

"I'm not in the market for any nationality, so knock yourself out," I replied quietly.

"Could have fooled me, you were practically in that guy's lap."

"I was not!"

"It's okay. It's a cinch he's not my type if he's into the virginal thing."

"I'm not a... I'm not having this conversation with you." I darted a look around, hoping like hell no one was listening.

"Whatever. We both know you've had your knees pressed so tightly together you're practically a nun. Shotgun!" she called out as Rob's car came into view. It was nice, a newer black Audi, and I hoped Bridget didn't end up getting sick in it, that might cure him of his Good Samaritan tendencies.

I listened from the back as they chatted up front, Bridget flirting shamelessly with him and Rob firing it right back at her. It was a little strange, but I'd almost gotten the impression he wasn't particularly interested in her before, but he seemed very into her now. Rob was a perfect gentleman when we arrived, opening the doors for each of us and escorting us to the front door.

Bridget waited in the vestibule for him to follow. "You're not coming up?" she blinked in surprise.

"I think I'd better call it a night. Call me when you're closer to conscious though, yeah?" He leaned in to kiss her cheek, holding out a business card and she snatched it up happily.

"Suit yourself, blueberry pancakes here I come!" she declared, charging up the stairs.

"Thanks again for the ride, Rob. That was very sweet of you."

"I can be sweet when the occasion calls for it," he gave a half shrug. "You'd best go on after her, you'll be needing to feed soon."

"Shhh, she'll hear you," I hissed, looking up the stairwell, but Bridget was already on the second set of stairs, I doubted she could hear us.

"She doesn't know?"

"Of course not, we're supposed to keep it a secret, right?" How he fit in with the vampire community was still a mystery to me, as well as how he knew I hadn't fed recently.

"Well, yes. But I thought... so she's not your feeder then?"

"My... eewh, no. She's my friend!" The idea of feeding from Bridget made my skin crawl, guilt adding to my discomfort since her blood was the only blood I'd tasted so far.

"My apologies then," his hands came up in a supplicating gesture. "You'd better make other arrangements soon. You don't want to put it off for too long, trust me."

I was supposed to be hundreds of years old, why didn't he think I'd think of that? "I know that, don't you think I know that?" I replied a little crossly.

"Right then. Seeing as how you've got everything under control, I'd best be on my way."

Oh man, there he was trying to be nice and I was snapping at him for no good reason. "Wait... thanks, for taking us home. It was unnecessary, but nice of you all the same." I offered him a conciliatory smile and after a beat, he smiled back.

"No worries, miss. You take care now."

"I will. Bye." As he walked away it occurred to me... Rob knew where I lived. I just hoped he'd choose to keep that bit of information to himself.

* * *

I wasn't looking forward to explaining what the hell had gone on in the bar that night, but it turned out I could put it off for another day. Instead of whipping up a batch of pancakes, blueberry or otherwise, Bridget snored soundly on the end of the couch. Thanks to my new super strength, it was fairly easy to get her to the bedroom, and I tugged her boots off, covering her up for good measure.

I was definitely hungry, but nothing sounded good. After standing in front of the open fridge, enjoying the cool blast of air for several minutes, it occurred to me in a 'duh' moment - what I wanted wasn't in the fridge at all. Only as far as I knew, no one delivered blood in thirty minutes or less. So how the hell was I supposed to actually go about eating?

The idea of hunting someone down would have been laughable if I hadn't found myself standing at the window, watching the deserted streets below for signs of life. Thank God it was so late, I probably would have lunged at the first movement, be it citizen, cat, or collie. Lying down only made it worse. I could hear the other people in the house, their little snorts and snuffles in sleep reminding me that each one of them pulsed with the one thing that would satisfy my cravings. I actually made it all the way down the hall towards Bridget's room before I realized what I was doing, and halted in my steps, nails gripping into the faded wallpaper while I wrestled with the desire for just one taste.

I knew it wouldn't stop at one taste. The memory of Bishop pulling me off of her the other night was blurred and hazy, but the hunger was sharp enough, especially since I had a repeat performance in my belly now.

I needed help. So I turned to the only people I knew of that might have some ideas on the subject, my semi-geeky gamer buddies from high school. Flipping open my laptop, I tried Kyle on video chat first, figuring I'd have the best chances of reaching him, despite the late hour.

"Anja. Hey. I'm surprised to see you up so late. Are you pulling an all-niter for school or something?" From the distracted look on his face and the headset, I assumed he was also playing something else while he talked to me.

"Something like that," I nodded. "Actually, I was taking a study break and decided to see who else might be up. How have you been doing?" For the next twenty minutes he talked my ear off about Call of Duty and his concerns about the Avengers movie's impact on the books. I made polite listening sounds and we actually went on a completely random tangent on the subject of the Star Trek reboot and how that changed the reality of the established canon. Okay, so we were both more than a little geeky.

"I was wondering, you're still into the whole vampire thing, right?" I skillfully brought us back to the reason for my call.

"Totally, we still LARP every Friday night. Why, are you interested?" He leaned forward in his chair, setting down the controller in his hands. Live Action Role Playing consisted of a bunch of gamers dressing up and running all over town in the middle of the night acting out predetermined scenarios. It was very popular with the theater crowd I hung out with in high school, but I was never brave enough to venture out in public dressed like a vampire, an elf or whatever the game du jour was.

"Oh, ah... no, that's not really my thing. You know me, I feel self conscious going out on Halloween."

"Nobody cares, Anja, this is San Francisco. You wouldn't have to dress too outlandish, you know. Or you could change when you got to the hall."

"I wasn't really calling to ask about joining your game, I was more interested in some of the talks we used to have. Remember when we stayed up all night with Joey and Lei talking about real vampires in San Francisco? You thought this place was a perfect breeding ground for vampires, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that. You got all freaked out that your mom would find out Lei was having us guys over, and you insisted we close all the blinds." Trust that to be the only thing he remembered...

"Yep, that sounds about right. What else did you say... something about the fluid population making it easy hunting ground...?" I prompted.

"Right, because of the homeless and the temperate climate, there are always people out on the streets at night. It'd be easy pickings for a bloodsucker."

Munching on the homeless didn't sound especially appealing. What if vampires could catch diseases? That wasn't something Bishop covered in his Q&A session. "What if they didn't want to take the risk of getting caught though?"

"There's always banked blood for the faint of heart. Get it... cause they wouldn't have a heartbeat," he snickered.

"Yeah, I get it. Are you serious though? What, just waltz into the hospital and ask for a pint of blood? Wouldn't that raise a few eyebrows?"

"Sure they could, with their ability to mesmerize they'd be able to cover their tracks easy," he insisted, but I found myself shaking my head. That was all well and good, but I had no idea how to do that.

"I don't know, it seems kind of risky. What about security cameras?"

"They probably wouldn't even show up on cameras, no reflection." I already knew that was a bust, I had a reflection like anyone else. "There's always the butcher route, like on Angel. You know, they'd have a standing order for pig's blood. Dude why is it always pig's blood? I wonder if it's somehow superior to cow's blood, or goat's blood?"

"Ugh, no thanks," slipped out with a grimace. I wasn't sure why, but instead of finding the conversation helpful, I started to feel a little sick to my stomach. The idea of drinking pig's blood from a butcher was enough to make me want to hurl.

"Actually, Joey and I were talking about this the other day. I'll bet the vamps would be on a synthetic these days, like on TV."

"So it'd be like drinking diet coke instead of regular coke." That didn't sound too horrible. Too bad I had no idea how to find out if such a thing existed without looking like a total nerd to the vampire community.

"Why all the interest in vampires, Anja? Should I be worried you've joined the legions of the undead?" Kyle waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"I'd say so, you've already invited me into your home once," I teased back. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure if that would work either. Would I have to be invited again, now that I was a vampire, or would an old standing invitation count? "Um, it's for a paper I'm working on. Updating the traditional vampire legend, that sort of thing. I wonder if vamps could advertise for willing blood donors on Craig's List?"

"Why not, they list for everything else," he chuckled. "Seriously though, you should swing by on Friday night sometime, the guys would be glad to see you again."

"I know, it's just my schedule, I usually have rehearsals on Friday nights, you know how it is."

"Yeah, I remember," he sighed, and I felt bad for not having talked to him in a while. Some friend I was for only calling him when I needed something from him. "Far be it from me to get in the way of your big career though. Did you get into the Olympics of singing yet?" We chatted lightly about how school was going, and this and that, before I realized he was only half listening to me while he played whatever game he was in the middle of when I'd called. Suddenly I didn't feel so guilty for ignoring him so much lately; our interests just didn't synch up as well anymore. Besides, it wasn't like him or any of the old gang had called me up either, it was a two way street.

"Well, I should let you go. It was nice to catch up with you, Kyle. We should all get together sometime, play some GURPS or something old school."

"I would definitely be down with that. Let me talk to Joey, I'll send out an e-vite."

"Okay, later." I'd managed to fill another hour of the long, lonely night, but I was no closer to solving my problem of how to feed. I closed my eyes, a throbbing headache started to pound behind my temples and down along the sides of my jaw. Thump, thump, thump... it was maddening. That solved the question on whether or not vampires got migraines. It didn't seem fair, shouldn't I be immune to that sort of thing now? So far it was pretty miserable, I felt more like I was coming down with the flu than an all powerful being.

Thump, thump, thump...

With a start I realized I was in the hallway again, standing outside Bridget's bedroom. Head throbbing, I staggered forward, not sure what I was doing. She was in no shape to help me. Bridget lay sprawled across the mattress, exactly as I'd left her, the soft snore coming from her all but obscured by the deafening pound of my head. The sound amplified as soon as I crossed the threshold into her room, the thump of my headache in synch with the throb of her pulse, beckoning to me.

There was no Anja, only a burning need, a thirst that consumed me, blocking out all other worries or cares. There was no Bridget, only sweet release lying there, tempting me beyond all reason. Of their own volition, my fangs descended, elongating and sharpening in anticipation of a meal. They pierced my tongue and the bright coppery tang of my own blood burst across my senses. It was enough to make me stop in my tracks as the heady nectar rocked me to my very core. Just as quickly the tiny wounds healed, and I moaned over the loss, eyes fixating on the siren's call of the blood thrumming through her veins.

I had to drink to survive; it wasn't personal, it was my nature. Bridget was my friend. She'd want me to be happy, she wouldn't want me to starve... While my mind spun comforting platitudes, I crept forward, half disgusted with and half in awe of the inexorable pull. Almost as if she could sense my approach, she rolled onto her back exposing her neck, dark hair fanned against the bed in a silken cloud.

The throb of her pulse beckoned to me from the smooth column of her throat, teasing me, luring me closer. Swallowing against the wave of thirst, I leaned closer and she rolled towards me, welcoming me... Or not... With a wet heave, Bridget vomited noisily over the side of the bed, mostly hitting the garbage can, but splashy enough to send me hopping backwards. The sour smell of alcohol and ickiness permeated the room, driving me back out into the hallway in revulsion. All at once the spell that had been woven over me was gone, and I wasn't sure who I was disgusted with more, her or me.

Without waiting to see if she was alright, I got out of there, desperate to put some space between us before the thirst returned and I did something I'd never forgive myself for. The night air cleared my head even more, and the exercise gave my confused body something to do. Before too long, I realized where I was headed. My attempt to gain intel from the ranks of geekdom hadn't done me any good. I had to go straight to the source.

* * *

I made it to Bishop's place without attacking any random people on the street. That was a major achievement in my books. I surprised myself with how swiftly I ascended the stairs. In fact, my balance was so thrown out of whack that I slammed into the front door with an "oof" as the breath knocked out of me. So much for being stealthy... dawn must have been closer than I'd thought.

"Bishop?" my knuckles rang against the metal door. "Bishop are you home? It's me, Anja." As if I had to clarify. Who else would be knocking at his door at that hour like an unwanted landlord? "Bishop?" I pressed my ear to the door, but I couldn't hear anything inside. For all I knew he was asleep, or ignoring me. I might have done the same if I was in his position. No actually, strike that. I couldn't have sat there while someone in need of help pounded at my front door, no matter how annoying they were.

But despite his continued attempts to keep me at arms length, I suspected he wasn't at home rather than avoiding me. Awesome. Now what? I didn't trust myself to make it home again without trying to eat someone, but I couldn't sit there indefinitely. The thought of trying to break into his apartment was fleeting. Mostly because I was pretty sure Bishop would be less inclined to help me if he found I'd let myself into his place. Also, I had no idea how to do it.

Slumping against the door, I resolved to wait for him, hoping he'd let me inside before full dawn approached and I passed out. Only I lost that race, because the last thing I remember was thinking that I wished I'd remembered to take my purse with me when leaving the house. I could have called him and let him know I was there. Then again, that might have kept him from coming home altogether.

* * *

The sun was already high in the sky by the time Bishop made his way up the stairs to his apartment. All he wanted was a hot shower and a cool bed. Only what waited at the top of the stairs looked like the exact opposite of that, either a hot bed or a cold shower. What the hell was Anja doing there? Hadn't he been most explicit that he was done with the role of mentor?

There were dark smudges under her eyes, making her look especially fragile, but even so she was still heart-stoppingly beautiful, slumped against his door in her ridiculous outfit. Not that he couldn't appreciate a woman's body on display, but his fingers itched to tug her skirt lower and cover up the exposed swell of her breast. Anja didn't need such trappings to attract a man. Idly, he wondered what she would look like in a proper dress. Subtle touches of lace framing the bodice that exposed a hint of delights to be had beneath the rigid corset that cinched her trim waist impossibly smaller. Hair swept high with tendrils of gold escaping to frame her delicate features and nothing but her natural coloring to complement her inquisitive, blue eyes and the pout of her lips...

Cold shower it was.

Nudging her with his foot, she didn't make a sound. She was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. She was damn lucky it was him that came along, or she'd have woken up in the morgue again, or worse. He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her close as he brought her into the apartment. Damn, he'd just gotten the scent of her out of his bed.

Chapter Fourteen

I was in hell.

That was the only explanation for the temperature. Though a rational part of my brain could tell the air was cool and dark, I felt like I was burning up. Throwing back the covers helped, and I barely had time to register the fact that I was in Bishop's bed when I noticed the music. Gorgeous piano music, so smooth and flowing it distracted me from my torment and carried me along. It was a live, tangible thing and it surrounded me with exquisite grace. Drowning my petty issues until I wanted to be a part of it, but didn't dare raise my voice to join it for fear of breaking the spell.

The next thing I knew I was crying. I don't know where it came from, but silent tears rolled down my cheeks from the sheer beauty of it. I wasn't sad, just emotional as the music touched me down to my soul. That brought a joyful sob as I realized I must still have a soul. That kind of thing wouldn't happen to me if I was just an evil shadow of the person I used to be before I'd been turned, would it?

All at once the music stopped and a moan of regret escaped me in the stillness that followed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Bishop appeared in the doorway, his face anxious.

"Nothing." Why would he assume anything was wrong? I swiped at my wet cheeks, thinking that might have given him the wrong impression. "Was that you playing?" I'd assumed it was a recording, but then I remembered the grand piano in the living room.

"You're not hurt?"

All at once the feverish heat returned and I choked back my reply that I was fine, to shake my head until the wave of discomfort passed.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't come here again."

Same song and dance. "I needed your help. I didn't ask you to put me in your bed," I reminded him, expecting to find my clothing plastered to my skin with sweat, but it was perfectly dry. A bonus from my new constitution I supposed, but not one I could appreciate in that moment.

"You were unavailable for comment when I found you. You know, that was pretty stupid. The shape you were in, anyone could have done anything to you."

At the time I didn't care. "I'm sorry." The idea that he even cared would have been comforting if I didn't feel like I had the swine flu. "I think there's something wrong with me." His hands were blissfully cool on my forehead, and I leaned into his touch.

"You're burning up," he frowned, pushing against my lips to look into my mouth, but I turned my head away at the invasive touch. "You need to feed."

"I need a cold drink, I feel like I've got a fever. I thought vampires didn't get sick," I grumbled, wishing he'd put his hand against my cheek again. How come he was cool as a cucumber and I was on fire?

"Haven't you hunted since you left here?" His brows drew together into a single dark line, and I recoiled from the anger I saw there. Why was he so mad at me?

"No, I have no idea how to go about it. I don't suppose you've noticed but I'm a little out of my depth here. Is that what's making me burn like this?"

"Your body is starting to consume itself. It'll drive you further and further out of control until instinct takes over, unless you give it what it wants."

Blood. He meant blood. At that point I would have settled for something from the butcher's counter. "Can you help me? Do you have blood stored here for emergencies? Or maybe you could show me what to do? How to eat someone without killing them, and how to keep them from calling the cops?"

"There isn't any time. You shouldn't have waited so long." Bishop took off his jacket and approached the side of the bed, pushing up his sleeve.

"What are you doing?"

"Come here." His voice was gentle. "I'm going to give you a little bit, just this once to tide you over." Lifting his wrist, he held it a few inches away from my mouth and I stared at the smooth expanse of pale skin.

"You want me to bite you?"

"That is the general idea, yes." The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile.

"I thought... don't vampires just feed from humans?

"In general, yes. Largely because most vampires aren't the sharing type."

"And you are?" I replied, my voice tinged with doubt. That didn't jibe well with the picture he'd painted of himself so far.

"I'm not saying I'll let you drain me dry, just a taste to get you through the worst of the thirst, so you can hunt without taking someone's head off."

"Oh, okay," I nodded, that sounded reasonable enough. I scooted closer, dangling my legs over the side of the bed. My mouth opened and closed, but I didn't get more than an inch closer to his wrist. "I don't think I can do it. Biting into a person, it sounds so... barbaric." It was different than standing over Bridget's bed. For one thing there wasn't a pulse calling out to me, and he was dead after all, like I was. Would he taste as good as a regular human?

"It is. But it's part of who you are now. You have to learn to embrace it if you want to survive."

My mouth opened again, and I leaned closer, lips brushing lightly against his skin before I chickened out. "You don't smell like a person. Not that you smell bad... I mean I like the way you smell, you just don't smell like... food."

"Anja..."

"Right, I can do this..." Finally, deciding I was wasting enough time being such a baby about it, my mouth fastened over his wrist, fangs piercing the skin in one swift movement. I never knew which one of us made the first noise, the sound of my own groan of pleasure over the taste of his powerful blood mingled with his as my mouth pulled at his flesh.

If drinking human blood was like eating the juiciest, most savory burger from your absolute favorite hang out, this was like eating a gourmet meal at a four star restaurant. Everything about his blood was richer, stronger; I could feel it down to my toes the moment it hit my taste buds. The small amount of human blood I'd taken the other night had done nothing to prepare me for such a potent drink, and I wondered why vampires would ever want to drink from humans at all. Especially if it felt as good to him as it sounded.

His fingers sank into my hair, binding me to him as I drank, and his body shifted, seeking mine out. My body responded instinctively, craving more contact with his in the intimate act. The next thing I knew, he was stroking my back, fingers slipping under my shirt in search of bare skin. And then I was touching him too, hands moving over the broad planes of his chest, down his abdomen to the hardness below.

Another groan tore from his throat at my touch and I pressed myself against him shamelessly as I drank and drank. It was wrong, I knew it even as I did it, but I found myself powerless to stop, wanting to take it even further. In that moment, I wanted him to reciprocate, even though that would defeat the purpose of what we were doing. I wanted to feel what he was feeling because it sounded incredible.

"That's enough." His voice was husky with need, and my body responded to the tone rather than the words. Holding fast to him, I wriggled even closer. He couldn't possibly want me to stop... "I said that's enough." Bishop tore his wrist from my questing mouth, and I buried my face against his abdomen, breathing raggedly to keep from crying out at the loss. Instead of pushing me away as I thought he would, Bishop wrapped his arms around me, a shuddering breath going through him too.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, knowing I'd crossed a line.

"It's nothing, it's your nature." His voice was softer and I felt his fingers sift through my hair.

It wasn't nothing, but I didn't say anything else, it felt too nice to have him hold me. I don't know how long we stayed like that, I could have lingered in his arms all night, but eventually he let go of me and stepped away, and I bit my lip to keep from protesting the withdrawal. I looked up, expecting to see some sort of disapproval on his face, but his expression was shuttered.

"I think I need a drink, you want anything?" His voice was mild, as if we had been watching TV instead of pawing at each other not two minutes before.

"No, I'm good." That was an understatement, I felt fantastic. No longer hot and feverish, my entire body thrummed with life. As I rose to my feet to follow him into the living room, I felt lighter, my balance restored. No more clumsy Anja crashing her way into the coffee table and everything else. I'm pretty sure my hair was bouncier and shinier too, it was like an instant makeover from the inside out. If anyone ever figured out how to bottle vampire blood and distribute it to the nation, they'd make a fortune. Or more likely, end up dead at the bottom of the river.

Bishop obviously wanted to ignore what passed between us, so I went with it, taking a seat on the couch while he stood next to the sideboard, drink in hand. "Was that you playing the piano before?"

"What are you doing here, Anja?"

So much for small talk. "I needed help, I didn't know where else to go."

"We talked about this. I'm not your Sire."

"Okay, but who else could I possibly ask? Everyone at the bar thinks I know what I'm doing. Aleksandr, Jarrod, Rob, even Scotty thinks I'm an old hand at this. One wrong question and I'm toast. Actually no, I don't think Rob thinks I'm that old for some reason."

"What was that?"

"I'm toast, you know, done for?"

"No, what you said about Rob. What did he say to you? Exactly." Bishop set his drink down on the table, sitting next to me on the couch, but with a cushion of space between us.

"He said... that I should feed soon or something like that. I can't remember exactly. What is he, by the way? I can tell he's not a regular human."

"You can tell that?" Bishop's brow puckered.

"Then I'm right? He's not normal, is he?"

"That's not my story to tell. But watch what you say around him, his loyalties are his own."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I nodded all the same. "I'll try to remember that. I think he's sweet on my roommate," I smiled, remembering their banter the night before.

"Lucky her," he frowned, and I wondered if that meant he was jealous? He had taken note of her... attributes, when he'd first met her. "Look, I took care of your immediate need, I think you'd better be on your way. I have work to do."

"See, but that's the problem. You can't slap a Band-Aid on it and hope that'll take care of it. I have no idea how to survive as a vampire. Can you give me a rulebook or a manual on how to hunt or something? Vampire 101? Even the slayer got a handbook, not that Giles even gave it to her..."

"Try the net."

"I did, but it's full of crap." I scowled when I saw on his face that he hadn't been serious, his lips twisted into a smirk like it was all a big joke. "Don't you dare laugh at me! I didn't ask for any of this. I can't help it if I have no idea how to eat without maiming someone. I almost killed Bridget last night, did you know that? You probably don't even care. You probably think it's no big deal, but it's important to me. For once in my life I can't turn to books or my parents to help me out of a problem. I can't do this all by myself. If you knew anything about me, you'd know how hard it is for me to be here asking for your help, because trust me, you've made it more than clear that you don't want anything more to do with me." I turned away, not wanting him to see me cry again as the storm of emotions washed over me. He probably thought I cried at the drop of a hat.

"Anja..."

"No, I don't want to hear again how this isn't your problem. I get it. I don't even know why I came here." Swiping at my wet cheeks, I looked around for my shoes, not having a clue where they were. What kind of a person tucked a girl into his bed, took off her shoes to make sure she was more comfortable, gave her his own blood to drink and then kicked her to the curb? I looked under the couch, by the door, in his bedroom...

"Anja, just stop for a minute."

"No, you want me out, I'm out. Where the hell are my shoes!" I was losing it.

Bishop blocked my path, shoes in hand. "Looking for these?"

"Thank you," I murmured, snatching them from his hands. "I hate being like this," I sniffed.

"Your emotions are heightened, it's a side effect of turning. It'll even out after a while."

"Great, so what - twenty, thirty years and I'll stop acting like a basketcase? Cool beans." Thanks to my improved balance, I didn't have to lean on anything to get my shoes on. "I'll be going now. I'm sorry to have disturbed you," I managed to get out with as much dignity as possible.

"If I promise to help you will you leave me alone?"

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly and I'm sure it showed on my stunned face. "I beg your pardon?"

"But this is it, after tonight I'm done, deal?"

Whatever lunacy took hold of him, I intended to ride the swing of the pendulum as far as it'd take me. "No, I get it, you didn't sign up to have a vampire step-child, I promise, I'll leave you alone after tonight. Deal." I held my hand out to him. He looked at it for a moment and then shook it, his fingers wrapping around mine.

"Alright, lesson one..."

I didn't know if it was going to be a long lecture or a list of tips, and I happened to glance at the clock on the wall. "Oh God, is that the time?" I gasped. I'd slept through all of my classes and hadn't given it a single thought. There was only one thing that could possibly lure me away from the offer of help by a hot vampire; my music. "I have to get to rehearsal."

"I thought you wanted my help."

"I did, I do! But if I don't show up I'm going to lose my spot on the madrigal. I'll come back tonight after rehearsal, it'll only take a couple of hours. That way you can get your work done and then you can help me. It's a win/win scenario, right?" I gave him what I hoped was a winsome smile, because if he didn't go for it, I was going to have to miss practice, just when I'd started to catch Professor Matthews' eye.

"Alright, fine."

"Oh, thank you so much!" I couldn't help it, I threw my arms around his neck in an impulsive hug. From the depths of despair to giddy happiness in sixty seconds flat. He wasn't kidding about heightened emotions. "I'll see you later, Bishop, thanks!" Letting go of him, I got out of there before he could change his mind, catching sight of his bemused expression seconds before the door slid shut. I couldn't tell if he was more bewildered by my behavior or his.

* * *

As excited as I was to get to the campus on time, choir rehearsal dragged once I got there. Without the orchestra practicing with us, we met in the smaller choir room. Instead of being caught up in the music that time, I could only spot the flaws in the performance. Every missed beat, every note that fell flat drew a wince from me. My body still amped with energy from Bishop's blood, the last thing I wanted to do was stand in one place for an hour and a half.

Maybe I was eager to get back to Bishop and his lessons, or maybe I was worried he might pull another one-eighty on me and shut the door in my face, but I couldn't wait to get out of there. I found myself inching closer to the door as Professor Matthews gave us his closing remarks, slipping out the first instant he released us.

"Hey."

Bishop stood beside the door, leaning casually against the building. He'd cleaned up a bit since I left him. The scruff was gone from his cheeks, his goatee neatly trimmed. He wore his usual dark jeans and motorcycle jacket, the form fitting gray t-shirt stretched across his chest.

"Hey," I stepped away from the door and out of the path of students filing out. "Did we have a change in plans?"

"I decided to take care of some things later. You're still up for going out tonight, right?"

"Of course, I can't wait!" It was hard not to sound desperate, but I wanted it in the worst way. I couldn't help but feel drawn to Bishop. Maybe it was part of what we'd shared earlier that night, but I was at least as eager to spend time with him as I was to learn how to hunt. I fell into step beside him with a huge smile on my face. I was horrible at playing hard to get.

"Your accompanist is terrible."

"He's at the top of his class," I protested on Alan's behalf.

"Then his class sucks."

"Hey, not everyone can be a vampire prodigy. I bet he'd sound amazing too if he was hundreds of years old." I nudged him with my elbow, enjoying the light topic. It was nice to see he had a sense of humor after all.

"Alright, alright, point taken," he grinned. "You were the best one in there though."

You could have knocked me over with a feather at the compliment, no matter how outrageous it was. "You could pick me out of the whole choir, huh? That's pretty good."

"Actually, I could. You're better than that, Anja, they're dragging you down," he shook his head, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"To be fair it is a kind of a depressing song, it's not all that surprising we were dragging tonight." The German piece Lass dich nur nichts nicht dauren wasn't one of my favorites, it put me in mind of a funeral dirge.

"Depressing? How do you mean?"

"It's so slow and then all the Amens, who can get excited about singing a bunch of Amens?"

"It's a song about faith and hope. It's the exact opposite of depressing," he protested, to my surprise.

"We must be talking about a different song."

"Lass dich nur nichts nicht dauren. Let nothing ever grieve thee, what's depressing about that?" He acted as if his was the only right opinion in the world. "Be true in all endeavor and ever ply bravely; what God decrees brings joy and peace."

"Boy, you really do know the song," I blinked, impressed, and he gave a careless half shrug.

"I've heard it sung a time or two."

"Big Brahms fan, huh?" Another shrug was all I got. There seemed to be a limit on the questions he would answer about himself, so I changed the subject, eager to keep the conversation going. "I don't know what I'm going to do about school. I can't keep missing classes like today. How long did it take you to be able to stay up during the day without lapsing into a coma?"

"I didn't even try for the first hundred and fifty years."

"You're kidding me."

"No, it was a different time. People didn't keep the same hours we do now unless you were a servant. Especially for someone in my line of work, it was expected that I'd keep late hours. I just stayed up later than most."

"What line of work was that?"

Bishop stepped off the curb, directly in front of a black and green motorcycle that looked more expensive than my mom's car. "Get on," he ordered, straddling the sleek instrument of death. It bears mentioning that I'd never ridden on a motorcycle before.

I let out a long breath. "You don't like to talk too much about yourself, do you?"

"You want my help, right?"

"You know I do."

"Then hop on before I change my mind."

I scrambled on behind him, conscious of the fact that I flashed a lot of leg as my skirt inched higher in the process. Bishop noticed it too, I caught him looking at my legs.

"Is that what you're going to wear?"

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" True, it was a little risqué for me, but I hadn't felt out of place in the bar.

"Nothing. It's just... I thought you would have stopped at home to change before your rehearsal."

"I didn't want to be late. I do want to take a shower, wash the smell of smoke from my hair, would that be alright?"

"We're going to a bar, it'll get smoky again."

"So?" I was prepared to give up the argument for fear of his changing his mind again, but he capitulated.

"Fine, just don't take too long. Hold on tight."

Chapter Fifteen

I hadn't been to many bars in that point of my life, and that one didn't particularly make me want to start. Not that there was anything wrong with the place, it wasn't a sleazy dive, it just wasn't my thing. I would much rather be holed up in a little café, drinking cocoa and eating too many coconut macaroons.

The bar patrons were mostly young and attractive. No bikers, it was more of an upscale place. That bothered me a little. I would almost rather he picked a tougher crowd, then I might not have felt so bad knowing I'd be attacking one of them very soon.

Nobody gave us a second glance as we took seats at the end of the bar. Bishop's eyes scanned the place and I followed his lead, seeing what there was to offer. It was early still and there were only a dozen or so people sprinkled throughout the room.

"How do we start?" I asked, sliding off my jacket. I knew he wouldn't remove his, he was armed as usual.

"Let's start slow, order a drink."

"But I don't want a drink," I protested, figuring it'd be best if I stayed sharp and focused.

"Yes, you do, it'll help relax you. Besides, you need to practice compulsion before you need it in a hurry or there's blood involved." I could see the wisdom in that, but had no clue how to go about doing it. Before I could open my mouth to ask, Bishop seemed to clue in to my distress and leaned closer to me, his voice low and reassuring at my ear. "Focus on what you want. Catch his eyes and project it, it's as simple as that. Don't overthink it."

"Right," was all I had time for, before the bartender came to stand before us. "Hi," I smiled brightly, leaning forward, my eyes on his. "Please bring us a couple of beers."

"I'll have to see your ID, miss," he asked politely.

"Oh right, of course," I nodded, reaching for my pocket, but Bishop laid his hand on my arm with a shake of the head. I was supposed to be compelling him, not doing what he asked. What was I doing wrong? Maybe I wasn't focusing on the right thing? I really didn't want a beer to be honest. Deciding to change tacks, I tried something else. Leaving aside the question of drinks, I focused on getting him to look at me. "You don't need to see my ID, I'm alright to be here." This time I could feel my will catch a hold of him.

"You're alright to be here," he repeated, his face blank.

"You'll give me whatever I want." A smile curved my lips at that.

"I'll give you whatever you want." An answering smile lit the bartender's face and he leaned a little closer, perhaps keying into my pleasure at having successfully tried it. "What do you want?"

I grinned from ear to ear, turning to Bishop for approval. "I have Jedi mind powers!" I giggled triumphantly.

Bishop shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips when he looked up. "You'd better tell him what you want, don't lose him now."

"We'll have a couple of beers," I smiled sweetly.

"Coming right up," the bartender grinned, happy to be of use, I expect. He quickly filled our drink orders, hovering like a puppy, eager to do something else for me.

"Thanks." I dismissed him with a wave and he retreated farther down the bar, continuing to look over at me every now and again in case I might want something else.

"Be careful, he'll end up following you home if you keep him on the hook like that," Bishop sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

"What do you mean, on the hook?"

"Be careful what you ask for when you're compelling them, they will absolutely have to obey you, or what they think you want whether you said it out loud or not."

"I didn't think of it like that," I blinked, darting another look at the bartender who gave me a hopeful smile until I looked away. "I did pretty good though, right?"

"Don't get cocky, kid. It's easier to bum a drink than it is to erase someone's memory of having been brutally attacked."

"Well, since I don't plan on brutally attacking anyone, I guess I won't have to worry about that," I said loftily, cradling my unwanted beer like it was the finest trophy in the world. Bishop chuckled and I got the distinct impression he thought he knew better than that. "So... what's the next lesson?"

"Next, you need to scout your target. There are many variables to consider."

"You mean take into account if someone will notice if they slip away and come back with a bite on the neck? Or if they look drugged out or something?" I took the opportunity to look at the bar denizens, trying not to think of it as picking over items in a buffet.

"Yes, exactly. You can pick up a contact high if they're on hard drugs, or so drunk they can't walk straight. You should also consider if they're alone or with a group of friends that can describe you to the authorities if things get out of hand. You'll be focusing on compelling the person you're feeding from, not everyone else in the bar. In time you'll come to decide if you prefer a crowded club, or even a chance encounter with someone on the street."

"Do you talk to them first? Find out if they've got a family waiting at home?" That felt like a pretty important distinction to me if I was likely to have control issues to start with.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, brows drawing together in puzzlement.

"Because you wouldn't want to accidentally kill someone with a wife or kids, right?"

"What difference would that make? Accidents happen every day, people adapt," Bishop shrugged, completely unconcerned with my point.

"But this isn't an accident. This is me choosing in a premeditated way, deciding who I might potentially kill if I can't control myself. Doesn't it bother you to think that you might accidentally kill someone that people depend on?"

Bishop laughed, his head falling back like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, only sobering once he saw my expression. "Oh, you're serious. Anja, that's part of our nature. We're killers, it's what we're built for. Chances are, if someone gets tangled up in my path they're not a blameless victim given the places I spend time in. Besides, it's been a long time since I killed anyone accidentally while feeding."

"But you kill them as part of your Order?" I started to understand that human life meant very little to most vampires. Would it be that way for me too in time?

"Do you want to do this or not?" he muttered irritably, taking a swig of his beer.

"Fine, who would you pick then?" I asked, though it was obvious by watching Bishop that he'd already made his selection. His attention seemed wholly focused on a woman sitting in a booth by herself. Pretty, if a little older, she nursed a white wine.

"Watch and learn." Bishop slid off the barstool before pausing to lean in close to my ear. "After I leave with her, give us a couple of minutes and then come to join us in the alley to the side of the bar." Without waiting for a response, he moved on and I had to admire his natural grace as he slid into the seat opposite her, his charming smile smoothing over any objections she might have. But then again... who would object to Bishop joining them in a bar? What I wouldn't have given to have him smile at me like that.

I watched them together, easily able to hear the thread of their conversation, the woman's laughter trilling back to me. Oh yeah... she was a goner. In a few minutes he rose and stretched out his hand, not even having to use his influence to get her to leave the bar with him. Waiting on my stool, I downed the rest of my beer to steady my nerves before following them outside, slipping around the corner of the building.

My eyes adjusted instantly to the dim lighting in the alley, the soft murmur of conversation reaching me as I drew nearer. I spotted them on the other side of the dumpster, Bishop had her pressed up against the wall, whispering endearments at her ear. For a long moment I watched them, feeling like I was intruding, until his eyes fixed on mine. Holding my gaze, he brushed his lips along the side of her neck. "Join us," he smiled invitingly. "You don't mind do you, sweetheart?"

"I don't mind." The brunette smiled back dutifully, her focus on Bishop. I approached them slowly, still a little uncomfortable with it all, but he looked completely in control. "Anja this is Holly. Say hello, Holly."

"Hello," she smiled obligingly.

"Hello," I replied softly, wondering if he intended to drink from her right there in the alleyway. Somehow I thought we would go somewhere more private, but in theory he knew what he was doing.

"Holly is very healthy, aren't you?" Bishop smiled, his fingers tracing along her jaw and down the side of her neck to follow the deep scoop of her neckline. Is it bad that in that moment I wished I could trade places with her?

"Yes, I am," she said proudly.

"Good girl." Bishop kissed her temple lightly before fixing those green eyes on me. "Bite her." The girl tilted her head away obligingly, almost inviting me to do as he said.

I watched them with dismay, not sure why I found the idea so distasteful. I hadn't had any problems with the idea of eating Bridget, as sick as that sounded in my head. "I don't... I'm not sure I can..."

"Survival, remember? Is it because I picked a woman? Now is not the time to be prudish," he chastised gently.

"I am not a prude! I was going to bite Bridget, remember? Somehow I think this is a little outside the realm of normal experience, okay?"

"I don't think she's a prude," Holly interjected and Bishop shot her a withering look.

"Who asked you?"

"Nobody," she admitted cheerfully. Bishop closed his eyes for a minute and I could see that pinched look of almost pain coming over his features when things weren't going down exactly to plan.

"Look, forget it, I'll go find a guy on my own..." I turned away to leave.

"Absolutely not." His voice was a low and dangerous growl, surprising me as he caught my arm hard enough to hurt which was saying a lot now.

"Wow, someone's jealous," Holly giggled and he spared her a scowl before tugging at my arm.

"I'm not even all that hungry. I already ate tonight, remember?"

"You're stalling."

"I'm sorry! But we're here for you to train me so I'll learn how to do it on my own, right? And I don't think I'd ever pick someone like her. No offense, Holly."

"None taken," she replied equably, and Bishop let go of me in disgust.

"Fine, who would you choose?"

"Not to be a prude, but I think I'd pick a guy." Remembering what it felt like when I'd drunk from him, I had a feeling it would get pretty intimate and Holly wasn't my type. "Unless you can give me a reason why I shouldn't feed on a man?"

Bishop's jaw tightened, throat working while he swallowed back whatever off the cuff reply he'd been planning. "Go ahead then, knock yourself out. It sounds like you don't need me anymore."

"No wait, don't leave." I clutched at his arm. "Of course I still need you, but I need to learn how to do it my way, right?"

"Right." His answer was given through clenched teeth.

"So will you help me?"

A long breath was given. "Go ahead, pick your guy. I'll take care of Holly."

"You'll be here when I come back?" I didn't think I'd be brave enough to try anything without him there. What if I lost control and ended up killing the guy?

"I'll be here."

I hoped 'taking care of Holly' meant putting her in a cab and not the dumpster, but I decided not to ask. Giving him a smile and a wave good bye to Holly, I left the alley and hoped for the best.

* * *

In a way it was good that I'd pushed back a little. It gave me the opportunity to see what it would be like to really stalk my prey on my own, and trust me, I cringed on the inside when thinking about it in those terms. If I couldn't make it work, I might as well throw in the towel and ask him to stake me, because I knew after that night I'd truly be on my own.

Settling back into my spot at the end of the bar, I let my gaze sweep over the crowd. Eenie, meenie, miney.... moe. I spied a likely candidate - blonde haired, blue eyed, with a wholesome look about him, no date in sight. For a moment I considered trying to lure him out of the bar on my own merits, no compulsion involved like Bishop had, but in the end I wasn't confident in my ability to do it as quickly as I had in mind. Putting a little extra sway in my step, I settled onto the empty bar stool beside the guy, smile at the ready.

It was easier than I'd thought it would be to chat up a complete stranger in a bar. Maybe knowing I could look into his eyes and make him like me if he blew me off lessened that possibility of rejection, making me bold. Josh was an intern at Kramer, Jacobs and Finch, waiting for a tow truck to jump start his car. It was easy, oh so easy, to get him to forget about his other plans for the night, and it was a heady feeling knowing I could get him to do anything for me. I could have crooked my finger at him and gotten him to give me everything in his wallet, the keys to his car, or come into a dark and deserted alley late at night.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Bishop watching me from the other end of the bar, and I wondered if he'd come back in because he was worried about me, or if he didn't think I'd be able to pull it off. Conscious of Bishop's scrutiny, I leaned closer to Josh than I had to, touching him liberally on the arm, the chest, the thigh... I thought I saw movement out of the corner of my eye where Bishop sat at that last touch, but I didn't want to let on that I was trying to get a rise out of him on purpose.

I wasn't really sure why I tried to get a reaction out of him, maybe it was a way of trying to get him to regret pushing me away at every turn. In the end, I decided to stop playing with my food and slid off the bar stool, my blonde admirer in tow. Taking him straight through the parking lot, I beckoned towards the alley, my eyes full of promise. Taking a page from Bishop's example with Holly (I wondered how she was doing?), I pressed him up against the wall, my borrowed heels giving me enough height to reach his neck easily.

"Why are we in the alley? I thought we were going to a party?" he asked nervously, even as I laid a kiss to the pulse at his neck.

"This is the party, Josh," I smiled, my hands spreading across his chest. Meeting his eyes again, I exerted another burst of control over him. "You want this don't you?"

"Want this..." he nodded, all trace of worry disappearing from his voice.

That was all I needed to hear, my fangs descending as the sweet siren song of his blood called out to me. This was it, the big moment. There was no turning back now. I had to trust that Bishop would be there to stop me if I lost control. Losing all hesitation, my instincts kicked in and I practically lunged for the poor guy's throat; the bright blood instantly filling me with a thirst that had no end.

Josh cried out softly as I bit into his neck, arms enfolding around me as his body responded to the pleasure mingled with pain. Much as when I drank from Bishop, the desire to touch him swept through me, but it was a pale shadow of what I'd felt earlier that evening. Still, my hands traveled over his body, grasping and stroking, all the while I drank, reveling in the feeling of power.

Dimly I became aware of the fact that Bishop had joined us in the alley, but I was much too distracted to notice if he approved of my selection or technique or whatever he was judging me on. Suddenly he was at my side, our bodies lightly touching as he joined me in the feast. Josh didn't seem to mind the intrusion, in fact, it sounded like he was having a helluva time from the noises he made.

The next thing I knew, my hand smoothed up Bishop's body, seeking him out instead of the victim's. Just as I had in his apartment, my body craved his, the blood fueling the desire to touch and be touched. To my surprise, Bishop responded in kind. His cool hand splayed across the small of my back, dipping inside the waistband of my jeans... I felt his moan of pleasure, reverberating through Josh, and a shiver of delight went through me to the core of my being.

I was adrift on a sea of paradise, my senses drowning from overstimulation and I never wanted it to end. All too soon I felt Bishop pulling at my shoulders, urging me away from my nirvana. Stubbornly I resisted, Josh's heart still beat a mile a minute and there was more blood to be had.

"Anja..." His voice was low but firm at my ear as he wrenched me away. Frustrated, I fought him, so that he had to catch my wrists and hold them tight, pinning me to the wall even as we'd pinned our victim only moments before. "Calm down... take a breath. It'll pass in a minute," he soothed.

Take a breath? That was his advice? What if I didn't want it to pass? Trapped against the wall with his body pressed up against mine, I felt a different kind of appetite flare and sharpen into want. I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to reign in my impulse to beg him to... to... I couldn't even say what I wanted Bishop to do, I just know that I wanted him.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, my voice hoarse with need. I met his eyes in the uncertain light, and I saw the struggle behind them. Was he tempted to keep feeding too? I was still marveling over his iron willpower, when Bishop's mouth descended over mine, the taste of Josh's blood mingling between us. With a soft sound of surprise, I met his kiss with equal fervor, the blood forgotten as a fresh hunger swept over me. On and on the kiss went, with Josh's body slumped against the wall beside us as we grappled with each other, consumed by a new kind of desire.

Until Josh managed to recover from his stupor. "Um, am I interrupting something?" he asked, puzzled at the position he found himself in. Bishop growled, his hand shooting out to grab Josh's throat to silence him, his lips never leaving mine.

I tore my mouth away from his. "Let him go." I gave him a pointed look.

He dropped his hold on Josh instantly, eyes squinching shut as he struggled to regain control of himself. I became intimately aware of how closely our bodies were pressed together, and from the feel of him hard against my hip, he was aware of it too. Or was that because of the feeding? I had no idea how much of what passed between us was because of the blood and how much might be something else. Swallowing nervously, I dropped my gaze.

Josh coughed, hand going to his throat and I struggled to pull myself together and finish what I'd started. "You're not feeling so hot, Josh, you should go on home. Get some rest, maybe stay home from work tomorrow, but then you'll start to feel better, okay?"

"Okay." His shoulders slumped at the suggestion of feeling ill, but then he slouched off out of the alley. Bishop made no move to pull away, but he'd gone completely rigid beside me, his eyes still shut tight.

"That was... that was, wow..." I said finally, my voice as shaky as my nerves.

"It means nothing." Bishop put a few feet of distance between us, turning to look down the length of the alley.

"Boy, if that was nothing, I can't wait to see something," I quipped, surprised to find my legs were strong enough to support me when he pulled away. Whatever strength I found disappeared at tightly coiled anger on his face when he whirled to face me.

"You seem to think there's something between us. Let me make this perfectly clear. I'm helping you because your ignorance can get you killed and expose us to the humans. That's all."

I stared back at him, swallowing back the hurt his words produced. Why was he so mad all of a sudden? I wasn't the one giving off mixed signals, he'd been the one to kiss me. Pain melded into a ball of cold resolve as I shoved the humiliation away, my head coming up a fraction. "So you're saying you don't give a damn about me."

"In a nutshell, yes."

"You're just doing your job."

"The job is all that matters, anything else is a distraction."

"What happened between us..."

"Is not a big deal, it's common when sharing a feeding."

"It's just the blood that made you kiss me like that, that's what you're sticking with?"

"I told you, it was nothing."

"Then let me go."

In the course of the exchange, he'd managed to press me up against the side of the building again, his hands grasping the tops of my arms tightly. I saw what looked like defeat on his face for a fraction of an instant before his mask snapped back in place. Without a word he pushed away, boots ringing on the pavement in his haste to get away. I sagged against the building, more confused than ever when I heard his words float back to me on the breeze.

"Easier said than done..."

Chapter Sixteen

You know that feeling you get when things are going badly and you know they can't get any worse? How is it that things can always get worse?

I was still muttering to myself over temperamental men with more mood swings than sense when I turned onto my street. All I wanted was to change into my comfy pj's and curl up on the sofa with a real gentleman like Darcy, Knightly, or even a scoundrel like Rhett.

Too bad Detective Lucas had other plans.

"You don't call, you don't write. I'm starting to think you don't want to see me anymore," he quipped, his ready smile making me wonder if he somehow knew what I'd been up to that night. He couldn't possibly know I'd... Oh God, what if Josh had died after leaving the bar and someone pointed me out as the last person to see him alive?

"I'm sorry," I managed to get out. "I've been busy..."

"It's okay," he shrugged easily. "I have a crazy work schedule too, but I'm willing to try and make it work if you are."

"Can I help you with something, Detective?" Unsure what he was up to, I let him follow me into the building and up the stairs.

"I thought you were going to tell me if you remembered something about that night."

"I was," I nodded, "and I don't." Not exactly a lie, the single dream I'd had about the experience couldn't be called a true memory.

"You were spotted at the crime scene, how did you know to go there?"

"I was?" Frak... Was he having me watched or the place I was attacked? I was pretty sure we'd be having a different conversation if I was the one being shadowed. "I got the address from the ambulance company. I have a friend at the hospital." I was becoming a much better liar, only I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oh right, your roommate, Miss Russo."

"That's her. And I already told you everything I remember, so..."

"Okay, let's say for a minute I buy that," he shrugged noncommittally. "What about the murder last night?"

"What? Who died last night? Did he kidnap someone else?" Could I have a new vampire sibling even now at the morgue, waiting to wake up for the night?

"No, I'm talking about Trent Stenger, who I believe was your ex-boyfriend."

"Trent is dead?" I stared at him in shocked silence.

"They don't get any deader."

"But, I just saw him..."

"I'll say you did. Want to tell me what the two of you were fighting about?"

Oh no... "We weren't fighting, not exactly."

"I'd hate to see you with the gloves off then, by all accounts you cracked him a good one. What were you doing, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I didn't mean to hit him, it just sort of... happened."

"Uh huh. And did you have a history of hitting him... accidentally before?"

"No! I'd never done anything like that before in my life!" I replied with absolute conviction. It was only after I'd died that I turned into this violent creature with a hair trigger temper. What would happen if the cops found out I'd belted Serena the same night? Would they decide I was a prime suspect due to my violent outbursts? Would they find out about my attack on Josh?

I was saved from making an inappropriate outburst by Bridget's appearance from the bedroom. "Hey, who's this?"

"Bridget, this is Detective Lucas." I wasn't sure if I should say why he was there or not, but he seemed glad to see her.

"Great, you're home." He rose and gestured for her to join us. "That's two I can cross off my list at once. You were a friend of Trent Stenger's too, weren't you?"

Bridget's lips curved into an unpleasant smile. "If that means wanting to flambé his balls and serve them up to him with toast points, then yeah, we were friends. Why?"

She was shooting herself in the foot! "Bridge, Trent's dead," I interjected, wanting to save her from saying anything else incriminating.

"No shit? How'd he die? Wait, let me guess, autoerotic asphyxiation?" She looked only moderately surprised by the news, but I knew her well enough to tell it was quite a shock. Beneath the tough exterior, I knew she'd been deeply hurt by Trent's betrayal. Not so hurt she'd go after him with a machete and a torch, but more hurt than she let on.

"Before we get to that, do you mind if I ask you where you were last night?"

"Not at all. I was out with Anja all night. We went to a bar called the Bloody Hart or something like that."

"The Bleeding Hart?" he asked. I was surprised to hear the detective was familiar with a vampire bar, but then again, he might not know it was a hangout for the undead.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Huh. That doesn't seem like the usual crowd for girls like you."

"Girls like us, what?" Her chin came up pugnaciously and I couldn't help but wince, hoping the man wasn't about to get an earful.

"I didn't mean anything by it." His hands came up to ward off any outburst. "I just meant, it's not a big hit with the college set."

"Yeah well, I'm not in college, I'm a working stiff. And I'll drink wherever I goddamn well want to."

"Bridget, I'm sure he didn't mean..." I started to soothe her, but Lucas beat me to it.

"As is your God given right," he nodded sympathetically. "Is there anyone who can attest to your whereabouts between the hours of ten p.m. and two a.m.?"

"I don't know, probably," Bridget shrugged and he leaned forward.

"Care to be a little more specific?"

"Shit, I don't know, I had a few boilermakers that night. Anja, who was there? The bartender..."

"Scotty," I nodded, leery of giving out too much in the way of details of who we'd seen at the bar. "And we also spent some time with the owners, Jarrod and Leander. I'm afraid I don't know their last name." They seemed safe enough to mention, it being their own place.

"I'm sure I can find them. Anyone else?"

Bridget snapped her fingers. "Oh, what about that fancypants guy? The Russian?"

Instinctively I knew Aleksandr wouldn't want to be drawn into a police inquiry. "I... can't remember his name. But um... didn't you have a business card for the guy that gave us a ride home? That was around one a.m. I think." While Rob might not appreciate us naming him either, he struck me as a guy who could handle a police interrogation without breaking a sweat.

"Oh right! Rob... Hold on a sec, I'll go get it."

Once Bridget was gone, I felt the need to fill the silence, not wanting to give him too much time for idle speculation. "How did he die?"

"Maybe you should tell me. Did you kill him?"

"What? No! How... what would make you possibly think that?" He wasn't serious, was he? I was about to try and focus on catching his eyes to try and compel him into thinking something else when Lucas burst into laughter.

"I was just kidding. I didn't really figure you killed the guy, but you have to admit, violence does seem to be following you around. Has anything else strange happened to you since we last talked?"

What had happened lately that wasn't strange? "That's a very subjective question."

"That's me, the subjective detective," he quipped. "So has it?"

"Has what?" I blinked, still reeling from the sudden shift. Now I wasn't a suspect? Then what the heck was up with the third degree?

"Has anything strange happened to you since we last talked?"

"Detective, I'm a college student in San Francisco, strange things happen to me every day," I snorted, feeling more confident now that I knew I was off his list of suspects. "How come you didn't ask me about an alibi?"

"Instinct. I couldn't see you ever hurting a fly," he grinned.

An image of myself lunging for Josh's throat came back to me, and I gave him an uneasy smile. "That's a good instinct, you should definitely go with it." For once I was happy to have that book nerd vibe about me if it made me less of a predator to the local law enforcement.

"Have you made any progress on my case?" I changed the subject and Detective Lucas had the good grace to look embarrassed for not mentioning it.

"We're still following up on a few leads."

"What kind of leads?"

"I'm ah, not at liberty to say."

"At least tell me if you're saying that because you're trying to protect the integrity of the investigation or if you've got nothing," I demanded and he stared at me a long, hard moment.

"We're at a dead end," he admitted. "Unfortunately I don't have the same resources I'd have if he'd actually killed you, and the bulk of the evidence is still in the hopper with forensics."

"You sound almost sorry I survived," I murmured and his grin reappeared.

"As much as I love a good homicide to sink my teeth into, I'd rather have you here alive and kicking. It's much harder getting answers out of the dead."

"How did Trent die?" I asked softly.

"I don't have the final report from the M.E.'s office back yet, but it looks like he was beaten to death, and then cut with something serrated at the neck, or possibly in the reverse order." His glib smile gone, a somber look more befitting to the topic finally asserted itself. "Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead? Besides the two of you, I mean?"

"I never wanted him dead." That needed saying right off the bat. "And neither did Bridget. We both dumped him and moved on. As for who might actually want him dead?" I let out a long breath. "I honestly don't know. Other than running into him at school I really didn't have much contact with him after we broke up."

"Why did you slug him?"

"He wouldn't let go of me."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Both I guess," I shrugged.

"So he wanted to patch things up between the two of you?"

"I'm not sure. At one time I would have believed him, but now... It could have been a line of bull on a lonely night, you know?"

"Maybe a jealous new girlfriend saw the two of you together and decided to teach him a lesson?" He was probably only joking, but my forehead puckered with worry. Was I somehow involved in the reason for his death?

"Here you go. You can keep the card, I've already got his number in my phone." Bridget reappeared, Rob's card in hand.

"Thanks," Detective Lucas glanced at it and slipped the card into his pocket. "Alright then, unless either of you has anything you'd like to add...?" He paused for a moment. "No? Then I should be running along. If you think of anything else, please give me a call. You still have my number?"

"I do," I nodded, holding the door open for him.

"Don't look so worried, Miss Evans. We'll catch whoever did this. We always do."

I gave him a tight smile, leaning against the closed door after he left, deep in thought. I'd almost forgotten Bridget was there, until she cleared her throat, an expectant look on her face.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, I borrowed your boots. I didn't think you'd mind. Where did you get these anyway? They're really comfortable."

"I don't care about the stupid boots, An. I want to know what the hell is going on."

"What do you mean? I know as much as you do. I had no idea anything had happened to Trent."

"You know something's up. You've been acting really weird the past few days. He said you decked Trent, when did that happen?"

Would I never live that down? "You heard that? What, were you listening in the hall?"

"Nevermind that, answer the question."

It was worse than the interrogation I'd gotten from the police. "Last night, before we went out to the bar."

"Holy shit... first Trent then the chick at the bar...? Seriously, what's going on with you?"

My teeth worried at the inside of my bottom lip, not quite sure how to respond to that. "Maybe it's the near death experience, you know? That's bound to make anybody a little... tumultuous."

"Bullshit. There's something going on with you Anja, and I want to know what it is," she demanded, hand on hip.

Now I've seen a few vampire movies in my lifetime, and I can tell you, the big reveal almost never goes down smoothly. Invariably, the best friend or girlfriend or whoever, doesn't trust that it's still their best friend looking back at them, they freak out and expect you to tear out their throats. Nevermind that a vampire almost never announces their identity to a victim first, they just lunge. The last thing I needed was for Bridget to freak out and start screaming, or even worse channel Buffy and come after me with a chair leg.

I wanted to tell her my deep, dark secret in the worst way, it would make my life so much easier not to have to hide it from her. Only I wasn't interested in chasing her around the room for the next half hour trying to get her to calm down. Plus, there was the law about not letting a human know your true nature unless you compelled them not to tell anyone. Either way I was going to have to compel her. I decided to do it ahead of time and save a step.

"Sit down and I'll tell you exactly what's going on," I offered, taking a seat on the couch and patting the spot beside me.

"This had better be good," she muttered, flouncing down on the sofa.

"You have no idea," I murmured, taking a deep, calming breath. It was easy to catch hold of her will, she was already looking at me expectantly, and I could tell by the way the annoyance melted from her expression that I had her under my sway.

"I want you to listen to me, and I want you to accept everything I have to say as the absolute truth, do you understand?"

"Absolute truth," she nodded, her face vacant.

"I want you to stay calm while we talk. You're in no danger, there's no need to be upset or afraid of me in any way. I'd never hurt you."

"No danger..."

"Most importantly, you can never tell anyone else what I tell you, is that clear?"

"Never tell," she agreed instantly and I held her in my thrall for long seconds after that to be sure the suggestion took.

"So...I'm a vampire." I waited for that to sink in, half afraid my compulsion wouldn't work and I'd have to go with plan B, which would probably involve sitting on her until I could figure out how to get her to cooperate.

"A vampire?" Bridget blinked. "Cool."

So far so good... "You're not afraid of me, are you? Now that you know I'm a vampire?"

"Why would I be afraid of you? You'd never hurt me." She looked puzzled and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"You're right, I'd never hurt you, Bridge," I nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I realized it might just work. "Remember that night I woke up in the hospital morgue?" I spent the next half hour catching her up on everything that happened since that night. Thanks to the compulsion, she took it fairly well, not a hint of histrionics.

"Did you kill Trent then?" she asked finally and I had to shake my head. Did she really think I was capable of something like that? Okay, so maybe I was, but only in the heat of the moment when feeding, I wasn't a cold blooded killer.

"No! Weren't you listening to a thing I said? I had no idea he was even dead before Detective Lucas showed up here tonight."

"Who do you think did it then?"

"I don't know, but something Lucas said got me to thinking. What if... what if I am involved in why he was killed?"

"Oh come on, An, he was an asshat. I'm sure there were plenty of people lined up to off him."

"Maybe he was an... asshat," I tried the word on for size. "But beating him to death and a jagged wound at the neck? That's some serious violence for a human, or... maybe a beating that got out of hand for a vampire."

"Yeah, but what vampires even knew about Trent? He wasn't exactly running with that crowd."

I hated to say it out loud, but I had to give voice to my suspicions, even if it was just so she could tell me how crazy it was. "Bishop might know about him. He seemed to know everything about me."

"You think your cop boyfriend did this?"

"He's not my boyfriend..."

"Whatever. Why would Bishop kill Trent?"

"I have no idea. Maybe he thought Trent knew about what I am after I hit him? He was hanging out at the college tonight, what if it wasn't the first night he's done that?"

"So ask him," she suggested as if it was the simplest thing in the universe. I knew better.

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Hey, you have a right to know one way or the other. Just try to stay out of his bed this time," she teased.

I couldn't help but smile over that. So far I did have a tendency to end up there, despite his best efforts to cut me out of his life. But after what had happened in the alley, I was doubly sure he didn't want to see me again so soon. "Maybe I'll give him a call."

"I've gotta get ready for my date with Rob, catch you later."

"You're going out with Rob?" That was news to me. They must have hit it off better than I'd thought.

"Yeah, we're meeting for a drink before I start the late shift. I don't have to pretend with him since he knows, right?"

"That's true..." I allowed, "but it might be better if you don't bring it up. He doesn't know that you know, and that might make things simpler." Especially since we didn't know him very well.

"Sure, whatever. I wasn't planning on spending the whole time talking about you anyway," she grinned. "Hey, if you're blowing off this school thing, tomorrow night we should take you shopping. If you keep borrowing my stuff I'm gonna start charging you rent."

Was I blowing off school? That was an inner debate for another time, at the moment I had to focus on the bigger problem at hand. I wasn't supposed to call Bishop unless it was an emergency. As far as I was concerned, it was plenty enough of an emergency to warrant calling him on his special number. Still, I was nervous as I waited for him to pick up. What if he wouldn't take my call?

"Yes?" Bishop's voice sounded tightly controlled, as though he was concentrating on something else, so I decided to get right to the point.

"Did you do something stupid?"

"Yes, but I told you, it's not a big deal."

Funny. "No, not that. I meant something else that happened last night. Do you know what I'm talking about? About a certain guy who ended up d-e-a-d?"

"Why are you spelling things out?"

"You never know who could be listening." For all I knew the cops had my cell phone tapped. Of course then Lucas would be knocking at my door, demanding to know who I'd called and why.

"Anja, I'm pretty sure they can spell, whoever they are," he said drily, and I realized of course I was being an idiot.

"We should meet to talk about this."

"I'm a little busy right now. I have a job, remember?"

"How could I forget?" He never ceased to bring it up whenever we got too close. "Alright, well... find me later, alright? We need to talk."

"There's nothing left to say."

A surge of annoyance swept over me. Could he have a bigger ego? "Get over yourself. This isn't about you and me, this is serious."

"What's going on?"

Oh sure, now I had his interest. A knock sounded at the door and I saw through the peephole it was Rob waiting on the other side. "I can't talk right now, just find me later, okay? It's important." I hung up before he could come up with another excuse to avoid me. Greeting Rob with a tight smile, I stepped back to let him into the house.

"Something amiss?" His brows came up as he crossed the threshold. Was I really that transparent?

"Nothing I can't handle," I replied with more confidence than I felt.

"You look much more in the pink, glad to see you heeded my advice."

There it was again... the hint that he knew more about me than he should have. What made him think I needed his advice? Then there was the fact that he smelled a little different. Not inhuman exactly, but something a little more. "Don't take this the wrong way but... what are you?" I asked, arms crossing as I studied him carefully.

"Catholic."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Rob gave a careless shrug. "I'm just making my way in the world in interesting company, same as you."

I guess I couldn't blame him for not spilling his secrets to me, I barely knew him. Letting it go, I changed the subject. "So, you and Bridget, huh?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing, I think it's great. You seem like a nice guy."

"Now you're just being nasty," he smirked. "What makes you think I'm a nice guy?"

"You gave us a ride home last night and you seemed..." Was he saying it was all an act? "Aren't you?"

"I haven't been called such a thing in a long time. But no worries, Anja, you've nothing to fear from me."

Bridget emerged from the bedroom then, interrupting the flow of conversation. It might have been an act, but I believed him.

Chapter Seventeen

I definitely had to find a new hobby. Staying up all night was starting to get plenty boring and downright lonely. It was too late to practice, and missing classes had me without any homework to do. I drew up a To Do list, with ideas on how to spend my time, but nothing sounded good. With Bridget out with Rob and then at work, I had too many hours to fill before the dawn. Too many hours to reflect on that kiss in the alley.

Though I didn't particularly need to, I took a long hot soak in the tub. Instead of going for Jane Austin or Margaret Mitchell, I couldn't help but pick up a different sort of classic to keep me company. Louis and Lestat kept me entertained through two refills of the tub. Thanks to my body's new make up, I didn't even get all pruny.

Without anyone else home, I didn't particularly worry about walking from the bathroom to my bedroom without a robe. I was still winding the towel around my body as I reached my room, and froze as I found Bishop standing there by the window. We stared at each other across the room, and I wasn't sure which one of us was more embarrassed.

"You said come over..." He turned his back, shoulders stiff and rigid.

"I said I needed to talk to you, I didn't say anything about popping into my bedroom uninvited," I hissed, fingers clumsily scrabbling to tuck the end of the towel in.

"I didn't think you'd be so... naked."

"Where else should I be naked but in my own bedroom?" I muttered, digging into my dresser to look for something to put on. Even though I was reasonably covered up, I still felt plenty vulnerable in just the towel. I settled for a simple white nightgown with pretty eyelet lace around the bodice. While my comfy pj's still felt nice against the skin, I found I didn't crave the warmth as much, especially after a hot bath. I didn't even need to sleep with socks on anymore.

"I'm sorry, I should have knocked first. Maybe I should go..."

"Don't be silly, you're already here." I caught his arm to keep him from going for the window and I felt his body tense at my touch. "You couldn't have seen much anyway." I tried to keep my voice light, but as he turned around, I had my doubts over how much he'd seen from the look on his face.

"Right," he nodded, eyes sweeping over my body with undisguised hunger and I wondered if the nightgown had been the right choice. Maybe I should have gone with a Snuggie? It might have made things easier for both of us. All too soon, he regained his composure and the moment passed. "You ah, you said you needed to talk to me about something important?"

"Oh right. Is there anything you want to tell me about where you went last night after I saw you at the club?" I could tell he hadn't expected that question at all by the way his brow crumpled in confusion.

"No, should there be?"

"No violent altercations I should know about?"

"I didn't say that, but I'm not in the habit of having to account for my time or my actions to anyone," he replied sternly.

"I'm not in the habit of having the police show up at my door accusing me of murder either, so I suppose it's a night for new things."

"Who did you kill?"

Something about the way he asked it really irked me. No surprise whatsoever that someone had died. As though he fully expected me to be capable of such a thing and was merely annoyed at being dragged into it. "No, that's what I'm asking you," I scowled.

"It just so happens that I didn't kill anyone," he scowled back. "Last night."

"Well someone did, and the police came here to ask me about it."

"Why do they think you're involved?"

"Because it was my ex, Trent who was murdered." I launched into a brief rehash of the conversation with Detective Lucas, grateful to see I had his interest at least, and that annoyed look had disappeared from his face.

"What do you think, does that sound like a vampire related death?"

"It could be. Anytime you see neck trauma, it's a fair assumption, but you don't normally see that with a beating. Torture yes, but not a general beating."

I didn't want to know about his experience with torture, and gladly glossed over that. "You really don't know anything about it?"

"No, I give you my word, the guy wasn't even on my radar. Though it sounds like maybe he should have been," he frowned.

"Is it possible that I killed him and blanked it out?" The question had plagued me for the past couple of hours.

"I've never heard of that happening before, but I suppose it's possible," he shrugged. "Look, I wouldn't worry too much about it. The cops don't have anything on you, you said he didn't even really suspect you. I'm actually a little more worried about this guy that showed up at the auditorium that same night. You said you didn't get a very good look at him?"

"No, he was half in the shadows, but I could tell he was tall, and I did see he had blonde hair and blue eyes. Though how I could have managed to see his eye color from such a distance is beyond me."

"I'm starting to think you only saw what he wanted you to see."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's very unusual for you not to remember the vampire that turned you. It's not that strange to be disoriented at first, but there's no reason to block it out entirely."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could remember him, but... I've got nothing. Just a jumbled dream, and I still didn't get a good look at his face, or hear a name."

Bishop was silent for long seconds as he paced the length of my bedroom. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I toweled off the damp edges of my hair while he wrestled with it. "You did well with what you told the police, though I would have rather you'd kept The Hart out of it. Thanks for keeping my name out as well."

"I figured you and Aleksandr probably wouldn't want the police poking around in your business."

His face changed at the mention of the Russian, the cold mask reasserting itself, and I braced myself for the mood swing I knew couldn't be far behind. "Something came for you from Kursik," he said softly, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small envelope.

"For me? How did you get it?"

"He must have checked up on you. My address is listed as your residence, remember?"

"Oh, right, thank you," I nodded, accepting the stiff envelope, immediately tearing into it. Inside was a small white card covered in smooth, flowing script.

Something to remind you of the old days. I look forward to spending new days in your lovely company. Please do me the honor of joining me tomorrow night for cocktails. Eternally your servant - Aleksandr

"Huh. He wants me to meet him for drinks tomorrow night."

"That's not all he wants," Bishop muttered.

"Huh? What do you think he means, 'something to remind you of the old days'?"

"He also sent over this." He produced a black lacquer box with a gold clasp. With a surge of excitement, I opened it, the breath whistling through my teeth as I beheld the ornately carved cuff bracelet worked in gold.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, immediately slipping it onto my wrist. I wasn't any kind of expert, but it looked like an original piece, very old and very valuable. The symbols on it reminded me of my ring, and upon comparison, some of them were identical.

Bishop's face gave nothing away, but his voice sounded strained. "It's... I had no idea he... I didn't think it was his to give," he managed to get out.

"Why? Do you recognize this piece?"

"Yes, it belonged to my Sire. But I haven't seen it for a long, long time."

"Your Sire?" My mouth dropped open in surprise. I'm not sure why, but I hadn't expected his Sire to be a woman. Of course it made perfect sense, but it threw me for a loop. "Maybe she gave it to him?"

"She must have."

"You don't think he took it, do you? I'd hate to accept a gift that shouldn't belong to me."

"No, it's yours, it's right that you should keep it." His eyes remained fixed on my wrist.

"If you say so," I replied, watching him carefully. "So you know Aleksandr then? From way back?"

"Not very well, it's been fifty years easy since I last laid eyes on him, but I've seen a dozen vampires like him. Ruthless, power hungry, he's not to be trusted." There definitely wasn't any love lost between them, but I wasn't sure why.

"I'll keep that in mind then."

"Wait, you're not going out with him, are you?" His expression darkened.

"Why not? Maybe he'll have some answers for me, look at this thing. It's obvious he's got connections with the older vamps. I'm hoping I can get him to talk to me a little about them."

"I don't think he's interested in you for conversation."

"Does that surprise you? That a rich, powerful man might want to spend time with me?"

"Vampire. Not a man, it's not the same thing at all." Bishop seemed more and more agitated, and I could tell he was scraping for an argument to talk me out of it.

"So what? I'm a vampire too. I'm stronger than I look, remember? I'm sure I'll be fine. Besides, I have a feeling he might know something about who my Sire is."

"He thinks you're hundreds of years old, remember? He'll find your game of twenty questions suspicious. Besides, Kursik won't have any more information than I do."

"You don't know that, Bishop. I still think it's worth a shot."

"Don't do this, Anja." His hands slid up my bare arms as his voice took on a pleading cast, and I fought what those eyes did to me.

"Can you give me a reason, any reason at all why I shouldn't go on a date with the rich, good looking vampire who wants to ply me with gifts?" To be honest, I hadn't given much thought to Aleksandr since that night, especially not after the kiss in the alley with Bishop. Kursik might be attractive, but he also scared the hell out of me. Okay, so I was using the invitation to try and provoke a response from Bishop, but it was the only tool I had at my disposal.

"I told you, he's dangerous."

"That's not what I mean. Can you give me a reason to hope for anything better?" My eyes pleaded with him to forget his silly objections and admit he felt something for me too. Something more than obligation, or the heat of the blood. I felt his thumbs brush across my skin, and for a moment I thought he might break, but he was more stubborn than I gave him credit for.

"I can't."

"Then you don't get to tell me who I can and can't go out with." I pulled away from his hold before I did something stupid like try to smack him. Or possibly kiss him. When I turned around again, he was gone.

* * *

The next evening I awoke to find I'd accidentally demolished my alarm clock. Either that or Bridget came in and smashed it and I hadn't moved a muscle. My last class of the day was long over, but I still had time to make it to rehearsal if I didn't take too long getting ready. I would have to figure out what to do about school before they tossed me out. Maybe sooner than later, as I saw I had a voicemail from my mother.

I seriously considered deleting it without listening to it, because I knew I'd be tempted to call her once I heard her voice. Curiosity won out, and I listened to it anyway.

"Baby, the Dean called today. He said you've been out sick for a couple of days, are you alright? I hope you're taking your vitamins, and did you try that new tea I sent you? I hope it's nothing too serious, you need to take care of your instrument, sweetheart, it's your gift. Give us a call when you get a chance, and let me know if I should come up with some soup and those bath crystals you like."

A lump rose in my throat as I sat there listening to her voice. I knew I should call her back to keep her from worrying, but instead I deleted it. Not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because I've never ever been able to successfully lie to her. Not even over the phone. If she asked something too close to home, I'd be in deep trouble. In the worst way I wanted to call her and tell her everything that had happened to me, but I knew she couldn't handle it. A problem to her was a gravy stain that wouldn't come out, or how to balance the budget. My problems would be completely out of her depth.

Suddenly I was much less eager to get up and go to rehearsal. Who was I kidding? I wouldn't be able to keep going to college, at least not at CCA. Even if I did manage to find a way to shift my course schedule to classes later in the day, what about my future? I couldn't conceivably travel with a jazz ensemble or even stay put in San Francisco if I fell into a death-like coma as soon as the sun rose.

Sure, I could still get my degree online, or at night school, but then what? I couldn't keep sponging off of my parents indefinitely, especially if I kept missing school. The best I could hope for was to find a job singing in a little vampire club. Surprisingly, that didn't sound so bad, but it would kill my parents to think of me as a lounge singer.

That alone propelled me to get up and get ready for rehearsal. I'd have to talk to the Dean, maybe tell him I had mono or something, see if I could work around the class schedule.

There was no sign of either Bishop or my mysterious blonde visitor when I got to the auditorium, but everyone was abuzz with gossip about Trent's death. Keeping mostly to myself, I found I could listen to several conversations at once, and still keep a general gist of what they were talking about. No one had any real idea of how he'd died, but there was all sorts of speculation that he'd been killed by a jealous boyfriend. I found out his reputation as a bastard was more widespread than I'd thought. Why hadn't any of them warned me when I dated him?

I made it home again without incident, nervous about getting ready for my date with Aleksandr. Bridget was already dressed for work when I got there, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops and chocolate milk.

"How was priss club?" she asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"About what you'd expect," I shrugged, no longer bothered by her comments on my chosen profession. "Working tonight?"

"No, this is the latest in club-wear. Speaking of which... stay out of my closet, okay? I don't want you getting blood on any of my clothes."

"When have I gotten blood on any of your clothes?"

"Still. Not all of us have Daddy to buy us new clothes whenever we want. I can't afford to have you regularly raiding my closet."

"Don't worry, I have a date tonight, but I won't be borrowing anything of yours." I figured something more refined was in order.

"No? Bishop has a thing for the school girl look, huh?"

"Actually, I don't know or care what Bishop has a thing for." I knew it wasn't the club look; he hadn't stopped scowling over my legs the other night. "I have a date with Aleksandr Kursik."

"The Russian from the Bloody Hart?" she blinked. "I thought you had a thing for the vampire cop?"

"He's not a cop exactly, and it doesn't matter if I had a thing for him or not. He's made it extremely clear he's not interested."

"Yeah, okay," Bridget snorted, and I shot her a scowl.

"What?"

"He's interested alright. I could tell by the way he looked at you. Why don't you just ask him what's up his butt?"

As lovely as that turn of phrase was, maybe I didn't want to know what Bishop's reasons were? It was easier to pretend he kept me at arms length because of some deep, dark secret. If I came right out and asked him, he might actually tell me it was because he found me disgustingly naïve, clumsy or plain, or all of the above. I preferred to keep my cushion of ignorance against heartbreak.

"Because... I'm not going to waste my time chasing after him anymore. He knows where I am if he changes his mind. In the meantime, I have a date, so excuse me, I have to get ready." For once she respected my privacy enough to back off, and I escaped to the sanctuary of my room to get dressed.

Chapter Eighteen

I went with the little black dress, suitable for concert premieres, dinner parties and cocktails with Russian vampires. Since I was going for more of a sophisticated look, I twisted my hair up into a loose chignon, set delicate gold hoops at my ears and I kept the makeup to a minimum. Of course I wore the cuff bracelet he'd given me, and my ring, which I still hadn't taken off. At that point, I wasn't sure if I was capable of taking it off at all; the very idea made me uneasy.

I decided to splurge on a cab to the hotel. Though the cold didn't bother me, I didn't want to take the chance of mussing my hair on a longer bus ride. That, and I wanted to look as though I didn't care about money, even if it wasn't true. The opulence of the Fairmont Hotel wasn't lost on me. I'd stayed in my share of fancy places over the years on vacation with my parents, but when I was ushered up to the penthouse, I couldn't help but gawk like a country bumpkin as the elevator doors opened.

There were two men dressed in identical gray suits standing outside his door, and they immediately stepped aside, opening the door for me to pass. Another gray suited man met me on the inside, ready to lead me through the suite to the living room where Aleksandr waited. They all moved in perfect silence, like they took their cues from an unseen and unheard presence, and it made me wonder... Was my host able to command them with the power of his mind? Or had they simply gone through the routine so many times, it was a symphony of synchronization?

Kursik was there for the handoff, extending his arm to me. "Thank you for joining me this evening. You look radiant, milaya," he smiled, his eyes bright.

"Thank you for inviting me." I slipped my arm onto his with my best Regency impression of manners, and hoped for the best.

"My gift suits you."

"It's exquisite, thank you. I ah, haven't seen anything like it for a long time. Where did you find it?" Belatedly I hoped I hadn't asked something gauche, like how much something cost, but he didn't seem to mind the question.

"From a shared acquaintance, I believe. Please, join me for a drink. Champagne?"

Nodding absently over the drink, I took a seat on the couch, far more interested in what he'd said. "A shared acquaintance?"

"More than an acquaintance on both of our parts, I expect," he chuckled. "I knew your maker well. Did she never speak of me?"

She? I tried not to choke on the champagne, but ended up with some of it going up my nose and it took me a second to keep from coughing, not having to breathe definitely coming in handy. "Perhaps. There are some things a lady never discusses," I tried for a mysterious smile. This was better than I could have expected! He had a direct pipeline into my Sire, or at least, he thought he did, since he believed I was a few hundred years old. But it could be the same person, especially since Bishop recognized the bracelet and it fit the style of the ring. That meant... my Sire was the same vampire that turned Bishop!

Kursik seemed to find my response amusing, and his blue eyes twinkled as he raised the crystal flute to me in a salute. "Good, then I can count on your discretion for anything that passes between us as well."

"Of course," I pledged, trying to figure out how to steer him back to talking about my Sire, or maker as he called her. "How did it end up in your hands, if you don't mind my asking? This was one of her favorite pieces, as I recall."

"You know Carys, she didn't want to leave me empty handed when she moved on. I do miss that girl," he sighed, draining the remainder of his glass and a gray suited sentry immediately sprang forward to replenish it.

Carys. The name struck a chord with me, but I wasn't quite sure why. "Were the two of you together long?"

"No, not very, just a few years." Just a few years. Longer than any of my relationships combined, and it was like nothing to him. "But let's not spend our time thinking of loves lost. Let us instead turn to the delightful company at present."

Cool beans. That hadn't gotten me very far, I was definitely no Mata Hari, but I decided to try again, especially since he looked at me like I was the next thing he wanted to sample. "How did you know she was my Sire, by the way?"

His brows rose a fraction in surprise. "You caught my eye from the moment I saw you. You reminded me of her straight away, but it was the ring that cinched it for me." Kursik picked up my hand and pressed a kiss to the ring in question, tugging me a little closer.

"You think I look like her? I ah, I don't really see it."

"Surely you jest, milaya. The same bright hair, the same eyes... though you are blessed in certain areas she was not." His fingers caressed the side of my face, down the slope of my neck to brush across the delicate skin at my bodice and my eyes slid shut at the touch despite my best efforts not to be swayed by his pretty words. "But beyond the physical resemblance, you share that same fresh innocence, coupled with raw power, it's a heady combination."

Talk about a heady combination, I was already half in a swoon. How had I thought I was in a position to resist giving the man anything he wanted? In that moment I didn't much care. I didn't have a boyfriend to be faithful to, why not enjoy Aleksandr's attentions?

A cry of pain from the hallway broke the mood, and in a flash, the gray suits formed a protective line between us and the hallway that led to the door. The big, hulking guy who'd been with him at the Hart materialized beside us as if from nowhere, a huge pistol in his meaty hand, easily the deadliest looking guy I'd ever seen. A crash and a thud sounded closer and Kursik snapped his fingers. "Booth."

"On it, boss." Booth strode forward, shouldering his way past the minions to see what the trouble was.

"What is it, who's out there?" I asked, nervous despite the fact that he looked cool as a cucumber.

"Be at peace, milaya. No harm will come to you when you're in my company." He used the opportunity to pull me closer, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. "Whoever it is would have to be a fool to try and broach my defenses here," he murmured.

"Oh God... I think I know who's that big of a fool..." The color drained from my face as I figured out what was going on. Right on cue, the suits parted like the Red Sea as Bishop strode into view.

"So, you finally decided to make your move." Bishop's eyes set to bore a hole right through Aleksandr's head. Frak... He was about to ruin everything!

"Bishop, what are you doing here?" I tried to get his attention but he ignored me.

"I'll need to see your papers."

"You're making a big mistake..." I tried again, but I could have been talking to a wall for all the good it did me.

"My papers? Are you mad? This is harassment, plain and simple." Kursik rose to his feet with fluid grace, approaching Bishop without any fear, and to his credit, Bishop didn't bat an eye when he got right up in his face. "Where is my man, Booth?"

"He'll be fine. Eventually." Bishop gave a careless half shrug.

"This is inexcusable, violating the sanctity of my stronghold..."

"I'm sorry, are you questioning my authority to be here?" Bishop's eyes narrowed and his shoulders seemed to swell even broader. The enmity between them was palpable; I bet the testosterone in the air was off the charts. Kursik was the shorter man and not nearly as built, but I knew he was stronger than he looked. I still didn't have a good idea which one of them was older and more powerful. I thought the dirty looks might spill over into violence, but then Aleksandr took a step backwards, recovering his smile.

"Of course not. I accept your governance here, I have no quarrel with the Jacari. I merely question the cause for your visit. Have I broken faith with any of the laws?"

"That's what I'm here to find out." Now his eyes swung to me, taking in the dress and the way I reclined on the couch with what I took to be disapproval. Aleksandr turned to look at me as well, and I almost wished they'd go back to fighting to lay off the scrutiny.

"Ah, I begin to see the reason for your call. Do you lay claim to this woman?"

I held my breath, as Bishop's eyes met mine, and I knew he wouldn't do it, even before he opened his mouth to reply, so I cut him off. "Of course not. Bishop is like a brother to me. You'd never be jealous, would you, brother?" I challenged him to contradict me in front of Kursik, and he bristled, but remained silent.

"Yes of course, that stands to reason," Kursik nodded, as if it explained the intrusion perfectly.

"Do you lay claim to her?" Bishop asked, finding his voice.

"What if I did? You've no authority to prevent it," Aleksandr sneered, his posture challenging again. I stepped in before the night ended in bloodshed.

And not in a good way.

"Excuse me, no one's doing any claiming tonight if I have anything to say about it," I interrupted crossly, tired of being talked about like a piece of luggage. "You'll have to excuse Bishop, his people skills leave a little to be desired. You can see why I've been avoiding him for the past three hundred years or so." I rose to my feet, desperate to get Bishop out of there before he said something to spoil all the progress I'd made so far. "You'll excuse me won't you, while I have a private word with my brother?" Without waiting for a response, I strode to the terrace door and stepped outside. I needed some fresh air.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed as soon as he'd closed the doors.

"Stop calling me your brother," Bishop scowled immediately.

"What should I call you then? Pain in my behind? Are you following me now?"

"I was there when you got the invitation, remember? Sorry if it ruins your evening, but I've the right to check his license to have you, and I mean to."

"License to have me? What are you talking about?" More vampire laws?

"If he's acknowledging you as his progeny he need a license, just like anyone else, I don't care who his Sire was."

"His progeny..." Was that what he was so riled up about? He thought Kursik was my Sire? "Bishop, you have it all wrong..."

"It doesn't look like you've got the best judgment right now. I can't believe you're taking his side like this. I thought you were smarter than that."

"You're the one leaping to conclusions. Idiotic conclusions I might add. If you'll let me explain..."

"No, you listen to me for once. Try and get it through your head that you're in danger here. Whether he's your Sire or not, you don't want a man like Kursik laying claim to you."

"Since when do you care?" I tossed back at him angrily. What was this? I don't want you but nobody else can have you either?

"I don't. But this guy is dangerous."

"So you keep telling me. I can handle myself, remember?"

"You are going to get yourself killed." His eyes blazed with anger and I wasn't sure who it was directed at.

"I'm already dead, right?" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood but all it did was make him somber.

"Final death is never something to joke about." Bishop reached up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead, fingers clutching into a tight fist after the touch, as though he'd been burned. "But do as you like." He turned to leave.

"Bishop, wait..." I caught hold of his arm, leaning close to his ear to whisper. "Kursik told me who my Sire is. We were way off, it's a woman." That got his attention, and he turned around, skepticism written all over his face. "No really, he said he knew her well. Her name is Carys, is that your Sire too?"

"What kind of lies is he trying to surround you with now?"

"Listen, it makes sense. Didn't you say you recognized my bracelet as belonging to her? Well, she gave it to him. He said I remind him of her so I'm assuming that's why she picked me. So that means we are related in a roundabout way." I didn't want to dwell on that overmuch since the way I felt towards him wasn't at all sisterly, no matter what I'd told Kursik.

"That's not possible." Bishop looked like it was the last thing he wanted to listen to at the moment, and I couldn't understand what he was so upset about.

"Why not? There's no law that says it was a man who turned me, right?"

"No there isn't, but it wasn't Carys, I can guarantee you that."

I started to clue into what was bothering him. Maybe his Sire was in town and hadn't stopped in to say hello to him? That would put my nose out of joint too. "How do you know it wasn't her? Just because she didn't talk to you about it first..."

"It's not possible, because Carys is dead." His voice low and broken, whatever argument I'd been building up to fell out of my head at seeing his face.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know," I tried to approach him but he pulled away.

"So whatever romantic fantasies he's spinning for you, get that notion out of your head. I told you, he thinks you're hundreds of years old, any information he has is flawed. But do what you want."

"Bishop wait..." I called after him, but he'd already vaulted over the side of the balcony. "Bishop!" Reflexively, I ran to the edge and looked over, but there was no sign of him in the mist of fog below. At my cry, the terrace doors opened, and Aleksandr stepped out, flanked by two of the gray suits.

"Is something wrong?"

Staring out into the murky night, I shook my head. Here I was, no closer to finding out who my Sire was or why I'd been chosen. All I knew was that Bishop's Sire was dead and I sort of looked like her. Is that why he'd turned away from me? Or was that the only reason he'd looked at me in the first place? Suddenly I didn't feel so much like enjoying cocktails and more with an intense guy like Aleksandr. I was tired of trying so hard to pretend to be something I wasn't.

"Actually, I should probably go. Bishop reminded me of some responsibilities I need to see to. You understand..."

Kursik's expression couldn't be called understanding even by a stretch. For a long moment I thought he might object to my leaving, but instead he offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course."

Relieved, I hustled past him into the room. "I'm so sorry for the way he burst in here. If any of your people are hurt..."

"It was nothing, no harm done." I could see it wasn't nothing to him, the blow to his ego was more severe than any physical harm to his staff, but it seemed certain he didn't want to dwell on it. "May I see you again?"

I wasn't sure how to reply to that. There was definitely something that needed working out between Bishop and me, despite his claims otherwise, and while I did find Aleksandr attractive, I couldn't say there was anything real between us. Still, I wasn't sure how to say no without offending him, so I nodded and smiled.

"Anja..." he called me back when I would have kept going straight for the door. "I could not help but notice the tension between you and your... brother. I would hate to be the source of any discord between you."

"Bishop doesn't need you to pick a fight with me, he comes up with trouble on his own."

"Then he did not instruct you not to consort with me?"

That was a loaded question. On the one hand, it would give me a plausible excuse to call things off with Aleksandr, but on the other, I couldn't help but feel like it would create more problems for Bishop if I said so. "I don't let Bishop decide who I spend time with, he's not the boss of me," I said finally, and he laughed as though that was the funniest thing he'd heard all day.

"Delightful to the end," he chuckled, leaning close to kiss my cheek. "Soon then?"

"Soon."

Chapter Nineteen

Bishop wasn't going to think about what Anja was doing in Kursik's penthouse. As long as he kept busy, he could focus on something else. At least that's what he aimed for. As he checked the audio on the gear for the third time in a row with no success, he had to admit he was a little distracted.

She had a point, he had no right to tell her who she could and couldn't see. If Kursik wasn't her Sire, then he had absolutely no reason to interfere with her business. So why couldn't he seem to leave her alone?

"Head's up." Mason didn't bother to wait for a reaction, lobbing a soda can at Bishop's head.

Bishop reached up and deftly snatched it out of the air without looking. "Hey, did you get me those reports on the Stenger case I asked for?"

"You bet. I scanned it before I sent it to you. It's pretty much like you thought. He was tenderized a little then bled out, probably into the mouth of someone we know. It's kind of a sloppy cover up really, usually they make a half hearted attempt to disguise the neck wound. But it isn't raising any flags in the department. Why the interest on this one?"

Focusing on the electronics on the work bench, Bishop decided it would be easier to dodge the question than explain something he didn't fully understand himself. "It's... complicated."

"Yeah, I've been hearing a lot of that lately," Mason muttered, taking a seat on the opposite side of the workbench and grabbing the gear out of his hands. Bishop resisted the urge to pull it back. He knew Mason was much better at that stuff than he was, but now his fingers were decidedly empty.

"Did you talk to Cage about the surveillance op I mentioned before?"

"Yeah, about that..." Mason looked up and Bishop cut him off before he had a chance to ask.

"Can he do it or not?"

"Babysit your girlfriend while she sleeps?"

"She's not my girlfriend, and I have a valid reason for watching over her," Bishop scowled.

"You have gone way off the reservation on this one, buddy." Mason shook his head, setting the gear aside, fixed in a fraction of the time it had taken Bishop to monkey with it.

"What are you talking about?"

"You are completely obsessing over this girl. The Order isn't supposed to be used for your own personal agenda."

"I'm not..."

"Is it 'cause she's banging this Kursik guy?"

"Okay, first off... don't ever say that again in my presence, and second, I think I've proven over the years that I'm enough of a professional to keep my feelings separate from my job."

"That's just it, bro. You don't know how to keep them separate because you haven't dealt with any feelings for as long as I've known you. All you are is the job."

It was true of course. It was simpler that way, far easier to heal a physical wound than a tear in his heart. Bishop had carefully distanced himself from anything that might penetrate that armor. At the time he'd made the choice it had seemed like his salvation, the only way to endure what he'd lost, but now... "What do you want me to say?" he shrugged. It was the way it had to be.

"Tell me what's really going on with you. I thought we were tight."

"We are..."

"So if you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"

Bishop let out a long breath. "Fine, but not here. Come on." Maybe it was paranoid, but he knew anything said could be picked up by any number of sources in the building, and he'd rather not have his disgrace broadcast throughout the organization. To his credit, Mason didn't bat an eyelash when he led him out of the building, falling into step beside him as he headed for the park.

"Strolling in the park by moonlight... you're not gonna tell me you've got a crush on me now, are you?" Mason gave him a sappy grin.

"I can't help it, it's the dimples," Bishop shot back. It felt good to smile and let off a little steam, and he started to relax the further away they got from HQ. He was taking a big risk in telling Mason, but he was right. If he couldn't tell his best friend, who could he tell? "So, as you may have guessed, I have been a little... distracted lately. Ever since Anja came to town."

"Hold the little," Mason nodded.

"What I didn't tell you, is that she didn't just come to town. She's lived here all along."

"I don't get it. So why are you just now starting to go all stalker over her? Because Kursik came to town and is trying to horn in on your territory?"

"No, I mean yes, it bothers me that Kursik is..." Bishop made himself stop before he got things all twisted around. "Let me start at the beginning. I met Anja a few days ago."

"But I thought you guys went way back?"

"That would be the part where I lied to you," Bishop fixed him with a grim smile, anticipating an outburst, but Mason took it in stride.

"Sneaky. I bought it hook line and sinker. Go on."

"I met her a few days ago because she was just turned a few days ago."

Mason halted in his tracks. "Wait, wait, wait... how is that possible? I saw her put Serena down at the Hart the other night. That was no noob move."

"It gets better. Her Sire completely bailed. She woke up in the morgue with no idea what happened to her, or who turned her."

"That seems... unlikely," Mason frowned pensively.

"It's unusual yes. Wait... are you saying you think she's lying about not knowing who turned her?"

"No, I'm saying that's a very powerful bond you're stepping into the middle of. If it was a choice of loyalty to you and loyalty to her Sire to keep her secret, who do you think she would choose?"

Bishop hadn't thought of that before. Was Anja playing him? Mentally he replayed the way she looked at him, so full of trust. The refreshing naïveté about the vampire community, the way her face had crumpled when he'd told her she didn't mean a thing to him, the little catch in her voice when she started to cry... There was no way those innocent blue eyes were just an act. "You've met her, do you think she's capable of that kind of a deception?"

"First impression... no," Mason admitted with a tilt of the head. "But why wouldn't her Sire want to claim a total biscuit like her?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe Kursik was her Sire at first. It would explain the enhanced abilities and his interest in her." Not that anyone needed a real reason to be interested in Anja.

"But now you're thinking no?"

"He told her that Carys was her maker."

Mason let out a low whistle. "Now there's a blast from the past."

"Tell me about it. I've thought more about her in the past week than I have in the past hundred years. Longer maybe."

"Are you thinking Carys might still be alive?"

It was tempting to spin fantasies that she was still out there, wreaking havoc in that special way that was hers alone, but in his heart Bishop knew she was gone. "No, I saw her die."

"Is that why you didn't turn Anja in? Because she reminds you of Carys?" Mason asked gently.

"No. I don't know. Maybe." Bishop lifted his face to the sky, but no answers came.

"Glad to see you're thinking clearly, buddy." Mason clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know I should have brought her in, but there's something about her... can you see her locked up? What that would do to her? None of this is her fault, why should she have to suffer because some asshole bit her and left her to die all alone?"

"Because that's our job," Mason replied mildly. "And not to be a downer, but it's something she'll have to face sooner or later."

"I'm shooting for later if I have anything to say about it."

"You know you're seriously deranged, right?"

"Why?" Bishop frowned. Not that he didn't spot the craziness of the situation, but coming from Mason, it was like the pot calling the kettle black.

"Eventually her Sire is going to make himself known. You might be forced to put her down, did you think of that?"

Bishop refused to entertain that thought for even a fraction of a second. If it came to that, he would move heaven and earth to find a way to spare Anja that fate, even if it meant saving her for someone else. For now, he was desperate to find a plausible solution for her to survive the situation she found herself in. "You know, the more I think about it, the more it feels like we're dealing with an Ellri," he mused aloud.

"That's crazy. When was the last time you head of an Elder turning anyone?"

"I know it's a stretch, but the pieces fit."

"Why would an Ellri turn her and then abandon her like that? They wouldn't have anything to fear from the Order."

"I don't know, but it would explain her blood, and it would explain the way she was turned."

"Wait, what about the way she was turned?" Mason's brow crumpled in confusion.

"She was found dressed in full Viking regalia, with runes carved on the floor of the abandoned house she was turned in."

"Huh. You didn't mention that little tidbit before. So whoever turned her was either old school or a total nutjob with a Viking fetish."

"Exactly."

"What happens when he comes back for her?"

That was the question he faced each time he started to think about giving in to his attraction to the girl. Because if he could be honest with himself for once, he had to admit Anja had gotten under his skin. In that scenario though, he had to ask not what he wanted, but what did Anja deserve? At the end of the day Bishop didn't know if he was capable of giving her what she needed. "Then I'll ask him for his papers and move on."

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say? You said it yourself, how could I possibly compete with a bond like that? Especially against an Ellri, you know the law as well as I do. No one stands between and Elder and what he wants."

"True. But you never know what an Elder's agenda is. You might have a good forty or fifty years with her before he shows up to stake his claim."

"And you think that will make it easier for me to let her go?" Better never to open that door to begin with.

"Well, that would solve her problems, she wouldn't need any papers as the progeny of an Elder, and she wouldn't need you to run interference with the Order anymore so you'd be in the clear. Hell, you might even get some sort of a reward for keeping her safe for him."

And she wouldn't need him anymore. Not as a mentor, and certainly not as a protector. Probably not even as a friend after the way he'd treated her. Would that be easier or harder? "What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

Mason let out a long sigh. "Besides shop for some new clothes? Seriously, you should look into a little color every now and again. The world is not just shades of gray." Bishop didn't bother to comment, he just waited for Mason to get it out of his system and continue. "I'm a gambling man by nature. I'd probably figure out a way to get her chipped and scoop her up before any other vamps came sniffing too close."

Figure out a way to get her chipped. It probably wouldn't be that hard to accomplish. He'd have to forge some documents to get her into the system, but that shouldn't be too difficult. Many of the old ones resisted getting a subdermal chip implanted and didn't carry papers with them, relying on their blood to carry them through any question of identity. He couldn't deny that the urge to protect her was strong, and this would certainly accomplish that, whether he took it any farther on a personal level or not.

"It's not a bad idea," Bishop allowed. "A good place to start at any rate." He felt better now that he had a plan of action for the immediate future.

"You know you can't adopt her as your own though."

"I'm well aware of the vows I took." More than most, he had accepted the Jacari as the driving force in his life, there was nothing else.

"I'm just saying..."

"She doesn't test as a newborn. I wouldn't have to list her as mine. I could say Carys was her Sire. There aren't many still alive who could dispute it." He could do this, he could make it work. He could be her mentor. That would keep Anja safe and he could still see her and she wouldn't have to keep making those puppy dog eyes at him whenever he told her to go away.

"And if her Sire shows up to lay claim to her?"

Bishop honestly couldn't answer that one, not yet. "That will be an interesting day," he allowed with a grim smile.

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out then, good luck," Mason clapped him on the shoulder again. "I just have one question."

"What's that?"

"Does she have a sister?"

Chapter Twenty

On the prowl. Come on Anja, you can do this... I sat at the end of the bar, the same bar Bishop had taken me to, but I couldn't relax enough to enjoy the atmosphere. When I'd woken up, I felt that slight flush of warmth, the telltale sign I needed to feed soon. Now that I knew what to look for, it was easy to recognize, and I didn't have to worry about it getting so out of control again. I made a list of pros and cons for going to the same bar, and the pro column won by a landslide. Without Bishop to guide me, I went for as much familiarity as I could muster.

It was impossible to think of feeding without remembering the experience with Bishop. The way our bodies pressed together, the heady sense of power as Josh's life force poured into us, the kiss... I had to fan myself as another rush of heat went through me that had nothing to do with the thirst. More than anything, I wanted to feel that way again, but Bishop had made it clear I was on my own, despite his appearance the night before. It was up to me to step up and figure out how to do this vampire thing on my own. I had to stop acting like a wallflower and remember I could have anyone in the bar I wanted, thanks to my handy dandy vamp powers.

Yep. Anja on the prowl. Humans beware!

Only who to pick? Everyone seemed like they were either with someone or waiting for someone. Maybe it was the wrong kind of venue for a single hunter like me after all? I didn't have the right temperament for approaching total strangers, which meant I had to either catch someone's eye across a crowded room, or wait for someone to approach me.

I'd reverted back to more of my own style, with a pair of skinny jeans and a black fuzzy sweater (in case I got any blood on my outfit). But instead of wearing a blouse under the sweater, I opted to go without, which left one shoulder bare and about all the lure I could manage from my own wardrobe. It didn't exactly scream siren, but it also wouldn't attract a great deal of attention, a plus in my books.

Just then, I caught someone looking, a guy about my age, on the shorter side, with sandy brown hair and stooping shoulders. It turned out we had a lot in common. We were both college students, fans of Dr. Who and terrible monster flicks on the SyFy channel, preferred hot chocolate to coffee, and weren't much for heavy drinking. In any other circumstance, I probably wouldn't have minded hanging out with Stan, though there definitely weren't any sparks on my side of the conversation.

It didn't take much to talk him into leaving with me, I didn't even have to use a hint of compulsion on him. The lure of a coffee shop and late movie were enough to get him into the parking lot, and from there I grabbed his hand, tugging him over by the dumpster.

"What's going on?" he asked, a silly grin on his face, and I almost lost my nerve. But I was the predator and he was my prey. This was the way it had to be, right? In a few minutes he'd be on his way with an interesting scar and a hole in his memory, and I'd have a full tummy - no harm, no foul.

"I want to show you something."

"But we'll miss the beginning of the show," he objected and I focused on exerting my will, instantly calming his objections.

"Trust me, this is better."

"Trust you," Stan murmured, his eyes vacant.

The blank stare unnerved me, and I had trouble approaching him. "Close your eyes," I ordered and he immediately obeyed. His height made it easy for me to reach his neck, but I couldn't bring myself to go for it and dig right in. That was the problem, wait too long and I was liable to take his head off, eat too soon and I got squeamish about the process.

I had to get my head in the game and do it before I lost my window of opportunity and someone came along. That thought was enough to make me stop and extend my senses, making sure we were truly alone. Apart from something that scurried under the dumpster (and I personally voted for stray kitty rather than rat in my imagination), we were the only ones out there. "Stop being such a baby..." I murmured, leaning in close. I felt my fangs descend the closer I got to the throb of his pulse.

In for a penny, in for a pound... Once more, I was overwhelmed with the bright taste of blood as it exploded across my tongue. Had I said I wasn't hungry? At the first drop of blood, a terrible craving consumed me body and soul, and I drank as though I might never slake my thirst.

It wasn't sexy and it wasn't a game. It was carnal, pure and simple, a physical need without any of the sensual trappings of my last feeding. Dimly, I was aware of the fact that Stan wasn't having a very good time, and a tiny part of my brain wondered what I'd done wrong, but mostly I drank and drank as if I'd never get my fill.

I felt his heart shudder and quake beneath me and I knew it was time to stop. Hell, it was way past time to stop, but knowing and doing are two very different things. Even though part of me screamed inside that I was taking too much, my body wouldn't obey until I felt his heart quiver and stop. Only then was I released from the spell his blood wove over me, and he slumped to the ground as I abruptly let go.

"I'm sorry!" I wailed, falling to my knees beside him, desperately searching for a pulse. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, please..." I switched to his wrist, not finding anything on the neck. "This isn't happening," I murmured, hot tears spilling down my cheeks as I wondered what to do. Calling an ambulance was out of the question... Suddenly I had a flash of insight. My blood could heal him, right? I fumbled at my wrist, pushing the sleeve out of the way as I brought it up to my mouth, but my fangs had already retracted. Closing my eyes, I bit down as hard as I could, my muffled cry of pain rewarded by the slight trickle of my own blood.

"Stan? I'm trying to help you. I can fix this." I held my wrist up to his mouth, but he didn't stir as the drops of blood hit his lips. "Stan, can you hear me? You have to drink..."

"Anja, no..." Bishop pulled me away from Stan's body, his hand clamping over the wound at my wrist. I didn't even stop to wonder what he was doing there, I only knew I had to make it right.

"I need to help him, I took too much, he'll die." I tried to struggle past him, but his grip was too strong for me. "Bishop, please..."

"It's too late."

"No, it's not too late. My blood can heal him, you said so yourself. Let me help him!"

"He's already gone." Bishop pulled me into the shelter of his embrace, obscuring my view of the body. "Let him go, Anja. There's nothing to be done." I sagged against him, tears falling in earnest as he held me. I wasn't sure who I felt more sorry for, Stan for losing his life, me for having to deal with taking a life, or Bishop who kept getting drawn back into my life.

"I'm so sorry," I wept, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. I felt Bishop's touch at my back, his hands strong and comforting.

"It's not your fault, it's your nature, remember?"

"How can you say it's not my fault? I killed a man. Ten minutes ago Stan's biggest problem was too many writing intensive courses this semester and because of me he'll never graduate. He'll never do anything ever again because I chose him and lost control."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's my fault for pushing you off on your own before you were ready."

As much as it surprised me to hear that coming from him, I couldn't let myself off the hook so easily. "It's not your job to look after me."

"Could have fooled me," he murmured and I pulled back to look at him a little closer.

"What are you doing here?" Why hadn't he stopped me before it was too late?

For a long seconds, I thought he might not even know himself, and his answer sounded hesitant. "Looking out for you?"

"Well you're doing a crappy job," I sniffed, tucking my head back down against his chest where I felt his rumble of laughter.

"I could leave again if you'd rather be alone."

"Don't you dare." My arms tightened around him. It was a crutch, but I needed it in the worst way at the time. Eventually my storm of emotions subsided enough that I started to worry about discovery. "We have to do something about his body before someone finds us."

"I'll take care of it," he offered, and once again I was surprised. Was this the same Bishop who kept telling me I was on my own?

"But it's my mess..."

"Anja it's fine, I'll take care of it." Letting go of me, he reached for his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard as he texted.

"Who are you calling?"

"People who specialize in this sort of emergency. They'll be here in no time."

"Oh. I didn't realize you could get rid of a body as easily as ordering a pizza." I wasn't so sure that was a good thing. Human beings shouldn't be so easily disposable.

"Not everyone has access to the same resources I do," he reminded me. "In the meantime, I think I should take you home. The more removed you are from this situation, the better." Pulling a cloth from his back pocket, he swabbed at Stan's face, removing the traces of my blood on his lips. When he was satisfied with the results, Bishop did a quick pat down of the body, and pulled out Stan's wallet, pocketing the thin sheaf of bills inside.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, outraged at the theft. Nevermind that the crime I'd committed against Stan was far worse.

"It's not going to do him any good," Bishop shrugged.

I couldn't watch.

Hugging my arms to my body, I walked away, telling myself I was looking out to make sure no one else came along while he did whatever else he was going to do to the body before his contacts arrived.

"Come on, let's get you home." Bishop's light touch at the small of my back made me shiver as he guided me to his SUV, and I was grateful he hadn't ridden the motorcycle that night.

The ride back to my apartment was a silent one. Bishop seemed to understand I needed a bit of space to process what I'd done, though I was grateful for his presence. Even after he parked the car down the street from my building, I made no move to leave the warm cocoon of the vehicle. His phone chirped, and whatever popped up on the display made him scowl.

"What is it?"

"The body is gone."

"The body, you mean my body? Stan is gone?"

"Looks like it."

"How could that be? He was dead, really dead, wasn't he?"

"Dead as they come," he agreed.

"So he didn't just get up and walk away."

"Definitely not. And if someone from inside the bar found him and called the police or an ambulance, they would still be on the scene by the time my people got there."

"What does this mean?" Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. All manner of thoughts made my head swim. Had the blood I'd given him turned him into a vampire and he'd really gotten up and walked away? Had someone stolen the body? What possible reason could they have for taking a dead body?

Bishop's fingers texted like mad. "Try not to worry, we'll get to the bottom of it. I've already got people checking the dispatch records and local hospitals. We'll find out what happened to him and take care of it."

"If you say so." Though trying not to worry sounded like a contradiction to me. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him yet and go up to my empty apartment. Almost as though he'd read my mind, Bishop turned, his features sharp and distinct to my eyes despite the poor lighting.

"Do you want me to come up for a bit?"

I stared at him, at a momentary loss for words. Had the Bishop I'd come to know and love been replaced by a pod person? Regardless, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "That would be nice, if you've got the time."

I pondered over what prompted the shift in behavior as we made our way up to my unit, and decided he must feel more responsible for Stan's death than he let on. "Do you want anything? Juice? Coffee? Popcorn?" I remembered the contents of his cupboards, though I wanted nothing for myself.

"No, I'm fine. Listen, Anja, I think we should talk."

That sounded ominous. Now that he had me in private, was he about to read me the riot act? "Do you mind if I wash up first?" Though I wasn't at all mussed, I could still smell Stan on me, and it was starting to turn my stomach.

"Go ahead, I'll be here."

I half expected it to be a lie. My luck would run out and he'd go back to being cold hearted towards me by the time I returned. Maybe I even wanted him to be, I deserved as much. Washing my face turned into brushing my teeth, which turned into a full fledged shower. I stood under the stream of water as hot as I could stand it (which was pretty darn hot) until the heat ran out and the water turned icy cold. Even then, I stood under the chilly spray, completely numb on the inside and out. When I finally emerged, cleaner but feeling no more refreshed, he was still on the couch, waiting as promised.

"Feel better?"

"Yes."

"You're lying."

"I know." I didn't have the energy to dispute it.

"Come here." Bishop's arm extended over the back of the couch and I took a seat, snuggling up to his side. He stiffened, and belatedly I realized that might not have been his intention, but a few seconds later, he relaxed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He didn't offer any words of comfort, and we sat there, listening to the sounds in the apartments below.

"I don't think I can do this," I ventured finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"This vampire thing. Look at me, I'm a complete mess the first time I tried to eat on my own. How am I supposed to do this every other day?"

"You'll get better at it as you go. No one is born to this, we all learn to make adjustments. Well... most aren't born to it." There was a story behind his words, I could tell, but I didn't ask him about it at the time.

"I think I did it wrong. It wasn't like it was with you there at all. I hurt him. Even before the killing, it caused him pain, not pleasure." I pushed away the memory of Stan's strangled cry.

"You have to learn how to put that into the compulsion."

"But I didn't try to the first time."

"Then that means you're a natural at it if you're in the right frame of mind. When I was there with you, you'd just seen me compel Holly. You mimicked my actions. Your instincts kicked in and gave him pleasure to mask the pain. What were you thinking of tonight?"

"That I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible."

"There you go."

"I didn't mean to kill him."

"I know that." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "It was a mistake. We all make them. Pretty soon it won't bother you so much."

"I don't want it not to bother me." He didn't get it at all, and I pulled back to study him closer. Was he really that cold hearted? "I don't want to turn into a ruthless killer that doesn't give a damn about human life. I don't want to kill at all."

"Anja, you have to expect that you will have some slip ups as you learn to control the thirst. It's naïve to think mistakes won't happen, it's part of the learning curve. Beating yourself up about it won't bring the guy back."

"No, not for me. I won't kill anyone ever again."

"I won't always be able to help you. I'm going to make an effort to be there for you until you learn the ropes, but eventually you're going to have to take the training wheels off and try it on your own and mistakes..."

"Yes, I hear you loud and clear, mistakes happen. That's why I'm not doing that again," I explained patiently, but his expression darkened.

"You have to feed."

"But not straight from the source, right? I can find another way. Bagged blood would work, wouldn't it?" It had to, or I might as well throw the towel in. I couldn't live with myself as a murderess, no matter how much he assured me it would get easier in time.

Bishop grimaced with distaste. "It'll do in a pinch, but I wouldn't want to live on it."

"Well, you're not me. I won't take the chance of hurting anyone else." My chin came up in determination.

After a moment's thought, he offered me a ray of hope. "I suppose I could hook you up with a local source, but trust me, you won't like it. Not after the real thing."

"Blood is blood, what difference does it make as long as it's human?" I shrugged. Ah, how naïve I was!

"Alright, but don't be mad when I say I told you so." He didn't look at all happy about it, but I was ecstatic, and I threw my arms around his neck in an impulsive hug.

"Thanks, Bishop. It means a lot to me, you being here like this and helping me."

Though he went very still, he made no move to pull away. When I released him, he only looked slightly uncomfortable. "Like I said, it wasn't right of me to leave you high and dry like that."

"Does that mean I can call you sometimes, even when it's not an emergency?"

"Yeah, you can call me and I'll try to make myself available to you if I can. Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about getting chipped."

"Is that like getting pinned?" I grinned, and he blinked in surprise.

"What? No, it's getting an identification chip inserted under the skin by your wrist. All new vampires have to have it by law, and most of us older ones have it too. It's easier than carrying around your papers."

"Like they do for pets?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

It wasn't my first choice to lojack myself, but I trusted him to know what was best for me within the vampire community. Maybe I trusted him too much, but he was my only real ally at the time. "Won't that raise suspicion if I go in to get chipped now if I'm supposed to be so old?"

"No, not especially. There are enough older vampires who resist technology that it won't raise many eyebrows if you have the procedure done now. The trick will be getting your papers in order before you go in."

"But you already got me a fake ID."

"That was nothing. I'm talking about forging your lineage. You'll need to have documentation that proves what line you come from and the proper license and such."

That sounded complicated when I had no idea what line I descended from. "How do I go about getting those?" It figured there was bureaucracy even among the undead.

"I can get them for you," he offered, and my brows came up in surprise.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yes, I would."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why?"

"You don't want me to help you?"

"No, that's not what I said. But ever since I met you it's been one step forward, two steps back. You've said from day one that you didn't want to be mixed up in my mess. So why are you willing to take such a risk for me now?" Could it be he was finally starting to admit he had feelings for me beyond a sense of obligation?

"Because I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Why?" I pressed. "Why are you here right now, Bishop? I'm not in any danger. Why are you sitting here with me, talking me through my guilt and offering to help me put my life back together again?" I willed him to tell me he felt something between us too.

"Maybe it's because what you said before hit home. You need a brother, someone to look out for you. To keep you safe from harm."

"A brother." I stared back at him in disbelief. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing I expected. Another denial of attraction, sure. A profession of duty, absolutely. After the way he'd objected to my calling him brother before, I hardly expected him to adopt the word and run with it.

Was it pathetic that I was willing to take whatever crumbs of friendship he offered? Maybe. But what could I say? "Thank you, that sounds nice." Nice? Ugh, I pressed my lips together into a tight smile to keep from blurting out something clingy and pathetic, and thankfully, Bishop didn't seem to notice. A satisfied look spread over his face, as though he was mentally patting himself on the back for doing his good deed for the year.

"Good," he nodded. "Oh, another thing. I was thinking about your problem with staying up for classes." Bishop reached into a pocket and withdrew a small vial of milky liquid.

"What's that?"

"It'll help you get through the day. At least part of it. It should get you through at least five or six hours of daytime, but then you'll need to crash. It takes quite a toll on the body."

"What's in it?" I accepted the little vial, holding it up to the light.

"I have no idea," he shrugged. "But I've used it before, it works fairly well. Think of it like a 5 hour energy shot... just a little more energy than most people can handle."

"Like a drug?" I frowned, instinctively wary, but what other choice did I have? If I wanted to keep going to college, I needed find a way to stay awake, and I didn't have any other ideas.

"It's safe enough if used for a limited run. We'll have to figure out something for you long term, but for now it should get you back into classes. Just be sure to protect yourself from the sun, it won't kill you but it'll hurt if you're exposed to it for too long."

"Thanks," I murmured, tucking it away in my pocket. "Bishop, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do you do all night? The nights seem so long and so lonely, how do you keep from going kazoo?" A question that had been plaguing me since I'd turned.

"I've never stopped to think about it, there's always something to do. If I don't have an active case to work on, there's training. I'm in charge of this division, that brings paperwork and other demands on my time. I check in with the other members of the team, make sure they don't need anything. If there's nothing cooking I'll sometimes ride around, make the rounds and keep our presence up, that's a big deterrent for lawbreakers."

"Don't you ever do anything for fun?"

"Well sure, I grab a beer with Mason every now and then. I'm not a hermit. And I have hobbies. I like to read and there's..." at the last minute he cut off what he'd been about to say.

"What?"

"I used to play the piano."

"Was that what I heard the other night? It was beautiful." I offered him a smile of adulation. Such talent was rare, and vastly appreciated by someone with my background.

He smiled faintly, perhaps a little uneasy with the praise. "It's been years since I sat down to play, I was out of practice..."

"Don't you dare do that! It was incredible, really. Brought tears to my eyes, the way it became a part of me... you have a true gift. I only wish I could touch people that way. Have you always played, or did you pick it up, you know, after you became a vampire?"

All of a sudden his expression shuttered, and he looked away. "I don't really like to talk about it, it's a painful part of my life."

And we'd been getting along so well! I hoped I hadn't blown it. "Oh, I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault. I should get going though, it's late."

I'd known it was coming, but the disappointment still stung. "I guess I've kept you from your work for too long already. I expect you're eager to get back to it." Bishop didn't reply to that, but he did rise to his feet. "Thanks again for all your help tonight. I can't tell you what it means to me to have someone I can count on in case of trouble. Especially since my life seems to be filled with disaster lately."

"It'll smooth out before you know it, give it some time," he nodded, his smile reassuring.

"I hope so." I wasn't sure if I should hug him or shake his hand or what, given our new status. But seeing as how he flip flopped back and forth so often, I half expected him to shun me the next time I saw him, so I decided to get in a last hug, just in case. Bishop's arms encircled me after the briefest hesitation, and I felt his chin rest on top of my head as he held me close. My eyes slid shut as genuine peace and tranquility surrounded me for a brief, shining moment, and then I felt him start to disengage and I pasted on a placid smile as we said our goodbyes.

It might not be everything I wanted or hoped for from Bishop, but as I tipped back the contents of the glass vial, fighting the debilitating rays of dawn, I was filled with something I hadn't known since becoming a vampire. Hope.

Chapter Twenty-One

My older sister Hanna never seemed to get caught up in my parent's ambition. She did well in school, but never tried out for a single extra curricular activity besides photography. Hanna preferred the technical to the artistic, and spurned the traditional four year college program in lieu of a program at ITT Technical Institute. For whatever reason she was born with the gene to resist guilt trips in any form, and could care less what they or anyone else had to say about her life. Mom and Dad could hardly complain though, Hanna made more money than the both of them combined after just a couple of years with a software company in San Jose.

As I waited for her at my favorite coffee shop, I wished I'd been born with some of that immunity to guilt. I kept scouring the news for any sign of Stan's body being found, but there wasn't a single mention of it on TV or online.

I still wasn't sure how I was going to merge my two lives together, even with Bishop's help. While the drug he'd given me did the trick and I'd been able to stay awake for both of my morning classes, I couldn't shake the worry that I might lose control and attack someone again. The smallest sight or scent of blood unleashed the thirst whether I felt hungry or not. Do you have any idea how easily the human body bleeds? I was fast becoming intimately aware of that notion. So far I'd been able to stop in time before actually attacking anyone, but how long would that last?

And the crash... Bishop hadn't been kidding about that. I barely made it home before passing out on my bedroom floor in a deep, dreamless sleep, waking up just in time to get ready to go see Hanna. Still, I looked forward to catching up with my sister, she was the one person I could be myself around without fear of judgment. She appeared at the door, bundled up in a stylish cream colored coat with faux fur trim.

That was one nice thing, the cold didn't bother me at all anymore, and I found myself forgetting to wear a coat when going out.

"God you look pale. When's the last time you got any sun?" Hanna sat down, her own skin glowing with good health as she wrapped her hand around the mocha I ordered for her.

"It's October. Not all of us can afford a membership to Paradise Tan," I pointed out after hugging her hello.

"You look good though, actually... I don't think I've ever seen you look so... polished," her eyes narrowed, and my palms started to sweat over the scrutiny.

"Polished?" I wore a pair of jeans and a button up shirt, casually open at the throat. My hair was down and I didn't have any make up on. I didn't feel like I belonged on the cover of In Style or anything.

"Yeah, whatever you're using for your complexion keep it up, it looks great!" she smiled. "But there's something else... oh, I know, you finally got contact lenses! Good for you!"

I'd almost forgotten she would expect to see me with my glasses on, and I was grateful she supplied her own explanation for it. "Right, I decided to stop being such a baby and do it. It turns out it's not as big of a deal as I thought it would be."

"You see! That's what I keep telling you, you shouldn't be so afraid to try new things all the time."

"This has definitely been the month for it," I murmured, blowing onto my hot chocolate.

"Yeah, about that. You know mom's going crazy about your absences, right? She made me promise to check up on you. If you hadn't agreed to come to coffee I was going to have to show up at your place with a pry bar and a vat of chicken soup."

"I'm fine, I swear." The last thing I wanted was an impromptu visit from either parent.

"I can see that." Hanna took a sip of her coffee and I could smell the rich aroma of the coffee blended with chocolate and cream. "Why have you been missing classes then?"

"It's... complicated," I stole the line from Bishop, but it didn't deter her one bit.

"Yeah okay, so spill." She waited patiently.

"I've been questioning whether or not the path I'm on is the right one for me." Class that morning in particular had been incredibly boring, and despite taking the stimulant, it had been hard to stay focused with the sea of bodies around me. "I've ah... been thinking of dropping out of school." Actually, I hadn't really voiced that thought even to myself, but I felt a weight lift off my chest at saying it aloud.

Hanna's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Are you high? Mom and dad are gonna go ballistic!"

"I know, but I have other reasons to consider. Things are a little... difficult right now, and it's made me think. Is this what I want to be doing for the rest of my life?"

"Of course it is. It's what you always wanted."

I wish I could be as certain of that as she sounded. "It's what they always wanted for me, and now I'm not so sure that's the same thing."

"That's crazy! You know you've been obsessed with music since you first learned how to sing your ABC's."

"I can still love music and not want to spend every waking moment gearing up for a profession that's destined to give me an ulcer."

"I never got why you get so freaked out before a show. You have a beautiful voice."

"It's not about that, it's not fear of screwing up or sounding bad, it's just... fear." I couldn't explain it better than that. Besides, the less attention I drew to myself the better.

"I still think you're crazy to walk away now after all the work you've put into it your whole life."

"Oh come on, what about you? You're not doing what Mom and Dad tried to railroad you into," I pointed out.

"That's because I don't have your gift. It's a crime for you to give this up."

"I don't know, I haven't really decided what to do yet." It was a cinch my parents would stop supporting me if I dropped out of college, and I wouldn't really want them to. That meant finding a job, which meant working nights. At least I lived in a city that had that as an option, instead of living in a little podunk town in the middle of nowhere that shut down at six p.m. every night.

"Is this because of a guy?" Her head tilted to one side as she regarded me from across the table, and I started to laugh. If she only knew! Just as quickly, my laughter turned to tears as I realized how quickly my organized life had upended. All over a man, and I had absolutely no clue to his identity.

"You could say that, just not in the way you're thinking." My problems were bigger than whether or not my Sire would ever show his face. Part of me did wish he'd put in an appearance and carry me off for whatever life he had planned for us. The reality was - I had to figure it out for myself. "I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going," I admitted. "But there's a very distinct possibility I might be going away for a while," I sniffed. My future was so uncertain, I didn't want her or my folks to worry if I disappeared suddenly.

"Oh hey, sis... it's okay." Hanna reached out to cover my hand with hers. "Whatever you do, I'll support you. If you need a place to crash, you can always come and stay with me."

"Thanks. I'll be fine though." I smiled as I brushed away the tears. Despite the offer, I would never put my sister in that kind of danger. The less she knew about my new life, the better. Unfortunately, someone else had a different idea on that score.

"Hello, ladies." Mason suddenly appeared, looming larger than life and helping himself to the seat between us. "Nice to see you again, Anja, fancy meeting you here." From the silly grin on his face, I could tell it was definitely not a coincidence.

"Oh, um... hi, Mason." I gave him a tight smile, more than a little worried about the way Hanna perked up as soon as she saw him.

"Who's this?" she asked, her eyes sweeping over him boldly, just the same as he was doing to her.

"I'm Mason, glad to meet you. And you are?"

"Hanna, Anja's sister."

"Imagine that." His grin grew wider. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Hanna, Anja's sister. I'm keeping an eye on our girl here." He winked at me.

"Why?"

"You know, after the attack and all, making sure she's safe."

Oh I could have killed him!

"What attack?" Hanna's brows drew together into a single line as she looked to me for answers.

"Mason!" I hissed, trying to get him to stop ogling my sister long enough to look at me. All at once he seemed to clue in to the fact that Hanna had no idea what he was talking about, and he backpedaled like crazy.

"Oh, I didn't mean attack, attack. I meant, like ah, attack of the munchies. I'm her sponsor for overeaters anonymous," he lied glibly, and Hanna laughed at him.

"Are you insane? Anja doesn't have an eating disorder."

"Mason, stop helping," I muttered. "Hanna, maybe we should..."

"Sure she does. That's why she's on an all liquid diet now." His eyes flashed playfully, and I kicked him under the table, but he didn't seem to notice. "Relax," Mason finally addressed me. "It's under control. Isn't it, Hanna?" His eyes swung back to catch hers and I could tell he had her under his sway. "It's all good, Anja's in no danger, and you'll forget what I said here tonight. In fact, you'll forget you ever saw me here with your sister, but you will think about me, especially at night..." His lips curved into a predatory smile and I kicked him under the table again. Hard.

"Mason!" I hissed. "Stop that!"

"Ow!" he scowled, reaching down to rub his leg. "Spoilsport," he muttered in disgust. "Sorry you have to be going, Hanna. It was nice to meet you."

Hanna blinked as he released her, "Right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Mason, but I have to be going. I'll ah, I'll catch up with you later, okay Anja?"

"I'll call you," I promised, lifting my cheek to be kissed as she picked up her coffee. Hanna left with a last look over her shoulder to Mason, who waggled his fingers at her, a big smile on his face.

"Do you mind? I'd rather not have my sister's memory shot full of holes like Swiss cheese," I begged as soon as she was out of earshot.

"Relax, I do this all the time. She's in no danger whatsoever, trust me."

I tried to take him at his word, she seemed to be no worse for wear and he'd said other things that demanded my attention. "Did you mean that? About watching over me?"

"Absolutely. I pulled the swing shift, Bishop's got nights and Cage drew the short straw."

"Bishop has you watching me?" I gaped, wondering what reason he could have given his friends to do such a thing.

"Yep, or actually no... of course not, because that would sound insane." His smile turned uneasy.

"Did he say why I need watching?"

"Hey, it's not that he doesn't trust you. In fact, I think it's the opposite. He thinks you need protecting."

"I can take care of myself," I frowned. Had Bishop forgotten the idea that everyone was supposed to think I'd been looking out for myself for the past four hundred years or more?

"You can relax. He told me all about you and how the two of you met. I wanted you to know it's cool, your secret is safe with me." Mason gave me what I'm sure was meant to be a reassuring wink, but all I could think of was, how many others knew I was a fraud?

"Did he tell the rest of the Order too? Oh God... did he get in trouble for breaking the law? How many other people know? Is that why he thinks I need looking after?"

"Whoa, calm down before your head explodes." His hands came up, and I forced a deep breath. "No, the rest of the Order is in the dark, otherwise we'd be having this conversation with you in detention until we found your Sire. I said your secret is safe, remember?"

"Right, okay. Sorry." I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Bishop wouldn't do that to you, you should know better than that."

"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to figure him out." Talk about an understatement. "Have you known him for a long time?"

"Oh yeah, Bishop and me, we go way back."

"Then you must have known Carys." Okay, I was fishing, but I had to learn more about her, and Bishop didn't offer much in the way of details.

"No, she died way before my time, but I've heard about her. Bishop doesn't talk about her much, but I know she did a real number on him."

"What do you mean? What was she like?" I leaned forward in my seat, eager to hear what he had to say.

"According to him she was like hot fudge sundaes, sunsets over the water, and Christmas morning all wrapped up in one."

Just a little hard to live up to. Cool beans. "So what was the problem then, if she was so great?"

"The problem was, she had him wrapped around her little finger. Bishop's given to extremes, in case you haven't noticed. He lived for Carys. She was his Sire, that's a pretty intense bond, but he took it further than most. We're talking pretty much no independent life outside of catering to her every whim. Vampires aren't known for their fidelity though, and she didn't share the same devotion to him. Bishop spent a hundred years chasing her all over Europe on the off chance she'd look his way. He told me once it felt like he hadn't had a choice. Something about the look in her baby blues that made him jump whenever she crooked a finger in his direction.

"When she died, it fucked him up. I don't know much about what happened to him after that, but then he joined the Order and traded one kind of obsession for another, it's his entire life. I mean yeah, the Order is supposed to be our life, but it's really all there is for him. He doesn't do anything else."

"So I've noticed. But it's not for you, right? You do normal things too."

"Me? Hell yeah. I buy motorcycles, fix em up and pretend I'm gonna sell them, but mostly just keep them in my garage," he grinned. "And I happen to love movies, any kind of movie as long as there aren't subtitles. Does your sister like to go to the movies?"

"Hanna? Yes, I suppose she does, but... Mason, don't take this the wrong way but... are you allowed to... be with women?" My teeth bit my bottom lip as I waited for him to take my meaning.

"Am I allowed to?"

"Well, yes, I mean... when you joined the Order, they didn't make you give up um, female companionship, did they?" Could it be that simple? Was that why Bishop would rather call me sister than sweetheart?

"You mean, am I a eunuch?" Mason burst out laughing, before I could answer.

"No, I didn't mean that, but... can you get involved with women, vampire or human?"

"There's a lot we give up when we take our vows, but no, not to that extent. It doesn't leave a lot of room for steady relationships though. The Order has a lot of control over where we go and what we do, it's kind of like being in the military. We're either crazy busy for days on end when the shit hits the fan, or we have to travel when bigwigs hit the states for a conference and we're turned into glorified security guards. The Order comes first, that's the lifestyle. But that doesn't mean any of us live like monks."

"Oh." I couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment. There wasn't anything to prevent Bishop from pursuing anything with me other than his own hang-ups, which sounded more difficult to overcome than bending a regulation. "What kinds of things did you have to give up then?"

"Sorry, cupcake. If I told you that I'd have to kill you. And then Bishop would kill me... so best not to go down that road, huh?" he grinned.

"You're afraid of Bishop then?" It was surprising to hear. Mason was easily a few inches taller and had at least ten pounds of muscle over Bishop's lean, muscular frame.

"Ah, yeah, Bishop could wipe the floor with my ass without even looking. He's a fucking legend in our community you know. His name is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the most powerful vampires in the country."

"You're kidding me. Bishop? But he seems so... understanding and gentle." Sure I knew he had his growly side, but so far he'd been much more bark than bite.

"You're getting to see a side of him most people don't know exists. Hell, I didn't know he still remembered how to laugh until you showed up. So whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

"I guess maybe he always wanted a sister, huh?" I muttered sourly, taking a sip of cocoa.

"A sister?"

"Yes, that's what he said he wanted to be to me, a brother type. I suppose he thinks I need looking out for, hence the protection detail," I gestured to him.

"Yeah, maybe." Mason fell silent then, lost in thought.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure, why stop now?"

I was glad to find someone to talk to who didn't balk at my endless questions. "Have you ever gone... hunting with someone else before?" I wasn't sure if that was the politically correct thing to call it.

"All the time, it's my job, remember?"

"No, I mean, to feed."

"Oh. Yeah sure, lots of times in the beginning, but not so much lately, why?"

"Is it always so um..."

"So what?"

"So... sexy?"

A single brow was raised, and I had his complete attention again. "You had a sexy time feeding with Bishop?"

"Well... yes." I launched into a basic narrative of my experience in the alley with Bishop and Josh. "He said it didn't mean anything, that it was a common side effect. So, is that normal?"

The thought amused him, and Mason didn't bother to hide it. "It can be. It is whatever you put into it. The blood just magnified whatever was there to begin with. If Bishop kissed you, it's because he wanted to, blood or no blood. The feeding made it more... intense." His brows waggled playfully.

Intense was definitely the word for it. "Then why the song and dance about being a brother to me?"

"Sorry, that's a question you'll have to ask him," he shrugged. "But in my own humble opinion, I don't think he would have kissed you like that if he wasn't into you." I couldn't help but smile like a big dweeb at that, impossibly buoyed by his last remark. "Give him a little time, I'm confident you'll crack him."

"I don't want to crack him," I frowned. "I just want to know if he feels anything but bloodlust and obligation towards me."

"There is one way to find out if he's into you, you know."

"What's that?"

"He wants to be your brother? So treat him like a brother."

"How do you mean?"

"If I know Bishop, it's easier for him to push you away if he feels like you're pressing for more than he wants to give. He won't be able to stand it if you look somewhere else to get those needs fulfilled."

"You mean make him jealous?" I blinked. Mason's answering smile was beatific. "But isn't that sort of... dishonest?"

"Why? You're doing what he wanted, right? If he's not willing to give you what you need, you have every right to move on and find someone who will, right?"

"I guess so..."

"So why not give him a taste of his own medicine? Treat him like a brother and see if he chokes on it," he grinned and it was hard not to smile back.

"Mason, you are a devious man. But what if it doesn't work?" It might blow up in my face and I'd end up losing him altogether. I wasn't sure I could handle that.

"Then you're one step closer to moving on instead of obsessing over someone you can't have."

Ouch. He had a good point there. Nothing would be served by sitting at home pining over a lost cause. Not that I was ready to give Bishop up as a lost cause just yet. "Alright, I'll try it."

"Atta girl, teach him a lesson."

"Thanks, Mason. You're a good friend." I gave his hand a friendly squeeze on my way to my feet, eager to get home and draft a plan of action. I've always been a maker of lists, it helps keep my thoughts organized. I even have a master list of lists, and my new Bishop list was about to move to the top.

"Not a problem, sis," he grinned, and I realized I could easily come to think of him as a big brother. "But love games aside, if you ever really hurt him, I'll hunt you down and stake you myself."

I stopped to regard him earnestly, taking in the note of steel behind the playful tone. "It's a deal." If I ever really hurt Bishop, I wouldn't want to spend eternity with the consequences. "But just so we're clear? The same goes for my sister."

Chapter Twenty-Two

The problem with pretending to be something you're not, is you start to forget who you are.

After working hard to cultivate a passable rendition of Anja Gudrun, cultured, wealthy, powerful vampire, I almost hated to go back to being Anja Evans, confused, slightly geeky, music student. Somehow I managed to find a balance between the two. For the next couple of days I spent mornings at school, pretending to be a normal, human girl with no problems beyond the next pop quiz, thanks to Bishop's wonder drug. I ended up dropping my afternoon classes, it wasn't possible to stay up the whole day. While I wasn't looking forward to having that conversation with my parents, it felt like a good compromise for the time being, better than dropping out altogether. As soon as the sun went down, I woke and hustled to my rehearsals, grateful I hadn't had to give them up yet.

Late at night, I ventured back to The Bleeding Hart, eager to make more friends once I knew a little more what to expect and how to act. I fabricated an intricate back story for myself, of how Carys had found me in 1650 Austria and turned me. Nobody in town seemed to know anything about her, so it was easy to make up anything I liked about our life together before she died. Not that I knew a whole lot about Austria to begin with, or even how to speak their language. But it was fun to research and learn more about their history, and with a name like Anja Gudrun, I couldn't say I was from Spain. Thanks to my new abilities, I was already on my way to learning conversational German in just a few hours of study.

It definitely helped to have a hobby, something to fill the wee hours of the night, because I didn't hear from Bishop, except when he stopped by to give me more of the drug. I tried my hardest not to be clingy or ask him to stay, following Mason's advice, but so far he hadn't seemed to notice. I had to step up my game and make the bait more enticing. That meant spending time at the Hart cultivating new friendships.

The vamps at the Hart accepted me with open arms, despite the scene I'd caused with Bridget the first time I visited, though Serena avoided me like the plague. Jarrod and Leander invited me back to their table the first night, eager to learn more about me. After that, the stories grew and grew, each one feeding the next. Until I almost started to believe I was this cool, laid back, sophisticated vampire who'd spent the better part of the last three hundred years traveling the world, never setting down roots, all the better to avoid connections that could be proven false.

At the same time I was gleaning all sorts of interesting tidbits about the local vampire community. I learned that Jarrod and Leander also owned two night clubs in town that were considered premium feeding grounds due to the lack of video surveillance and the warren of private rooms on site that allowed for a quick bite if the mood struck. I learned that Aleksandr Kursik was well respected, if a little feared, and most vamps hoped to catch his notice. Conversely, most people hoped never to catch the notice of Bishop or anyone else in the Order, as they were beyond feared, as Mason said.

I tried to leave Bridget out of it as much as possible, not wanting her to be drawn into the vampire lifestyle and risk getting hurt if I could help it. She alone knew the double or triple life I was leading, and thanks to my compulsion, it didn't bother her a bit. It was actually easier to live with her now that we almost shared the same schedule, sleeping for most of the day, waking at sunset. I knew she had another date with Rob coming up, but beyond that we didn't share any girl talk, she'd had to work the past two nights.

By the time I got Bishop's call to come over, I'd almost forgotten about asking him to find a source for bagged blood for me. Since I'd had so much of Stan's blood, I hadn't felt hungry at all over the past few days, that was something at least. Still, I wanted to see him, plus I knew I'd have to eat sooner or later, and it was a good a time as any to put the next phase of my plan into action.

A brief phone call and an hour of primping later, I showed up at his place, dressed to kill in my best dress, the one I saved for show openings. I gathered my hair up into an intricate braid, held in place with tiny crystal pins that sparkled like diamonds. My throat I left bare, maybe as an invitation considering I was on my way to visit a vampire. Did vampires find other vampire's throats enticing? I hoped to find out.

Striking what I hoped was an appealing stance, I knocked on Bishop's door and waited with bated breath (which actually can be quite a long time, since vampires don't need to breathe).

Bishop's eyes widened in surprise when he pulled the door open, and I held still while he looked his fill. I hoped for a compliment maybe, or at least a smile, but instead his brows knit together. "I hope you didn't think I meant we'd go out when I said to come over for a bite to eat. Or did you change your mind about feeding from humans?"

So far my attempts to make him jealous were a spectacular failure. I gave him a faint smile, sailing past him into the apartment. "No, I still want to try the bagged blood. I have a date later."

"A date?" Bishop blinked and I couldn't help but smile inwardly.

"Yes. So is it in the fridge or...?"

"The fridge... Oh, the blood. Yes, I got you a cooler, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep the blood here or at your place. I don't want you to do anything to complicate your friendship with Bridget."

"Don't worry about us, we're cool. She won't freak out if she sees the blood in the fridge." At least I hoped not. Just because I'd compelled her not to tell anyone I was a vampire didn't mean she would feel all warm and fuzzy about keeping human blood in the refrigerator we shared. Ah well, there was only one way to find out.

"I hope that means you took care of making absolutely sure she won't tell anyone."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his tone. "Of course. I know the law, brother." He bristled at my reply, but didn't say anything. Instead he pulled a plastic bag of blood out and tossed it on the counter where it jiggled unappealingly.

"Bon appétit," he smirked, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed to watch me drink. Determined not to let him get to me, I made myself at home in his kitchen, reaching past him to retrieve an earthenware mug, pouring about half of the bag into the cup. Hesitantly, I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like... plastic and the refrigerator, with none of the mouthwatering appeal when it came straight from the source. Taking the smallest of sips, I tried my hardest not to gag when the taste hit my tongue. It was like drinking cold gravy the day after Thanksgiving - the texture wrong, the flavor impossibly muted. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying I told you so, I popped the mug into the microwave and set it to reheat.

"What are you doing?"

Pleased to see the thought had never occurred to him, I gave him a smug smile. "What? You don't drink it cold, do you?"

"I try not to drink it at all," he scowled. "Replenishing my stores in an emergency doesn't lend itself to taking the time for the niceties of a cup and microwave."

At the sound of the beep, I pulled the mug out, gratified to find it at least smelled better. With a tentative blow to cool it off, I took a sip, resisting the urge to grimace again. It was at least better warm, but nowhere near the delicious elixir pumping through the human body. If people tasted like that, I'd have no trouble controlling myself whatsoever. It was bound to get old drinking that day in and day out for eternity, but it was better than the alternative. Still, it was palatable, and I covered my disappointment with the mug, drinking dutifully.

"So?" Bishop cocked a brow.

"It's fine, thank you. You should really try it heated up sometime, it makes a huge difference," I smiled brightly.

"Good, I'm glad you found something that works for you." He took me at my word. "I suppose you have to take off now?"

"Not especially, I'm being picked up here in a little while."

"You are?" I'd managed to surprise him for a second time.

"Of course. I'm supposed to live here, remember?"

"Oh, right," Bishop nodded, leaving me in the kitchen to go to the window. I followed, mug in hand. "So, how have you been?"

"Pretty great actually. I've been making it to my morning classes and evening rehearsals, no problem."

"Good, I'm glad the stims are working for you."

"And I've made some new friends."

"Oh?"

"Yes, down at The Hart. Everyone has been so friendly."

"I'll bet. You made quite an impression there the first time you showed up."

"So did you," I murmured, waving him off when he asked me to repeat what I'd said. "Have you had any luck in trying to track down my Sire?"

"No, not really. Have you had any more dreams about him, or any sightings of the man who showed up at your school?"

"No, nothing. I wish I could remember him, but... it's all a big blank." That wasn't strictly true, I was fine with him not putting in an appearance now that I was starting to pull my life together, but the investigation did give me an excuse to see Bishop more often.

"I was thinking, I could take in a blood sample of yours and we might be able to trace your lineage that way."

"My blood? Sure, if you think that wouldn't raise any suspicions."

"It'll be fine. Stop by tomorrow night and I'll be set to collect a specimen." I was about to reply that I wasn't sure if I'd be available the next night, when I noticed his attention was wholly focused on a dark limousine that pulled up. "You're going to Kursik's place again?" he demanded, his expression darkening.

I couldn't tell if he was angry or jealous over my choice of dates, but it was definitely a reaction, and I tried to sound nonchalant. "Eventually, we're going out first."

"I won't be able to pull you out of there again, he's not a man to be trifled with."

"You won't need to, I'm sure I can manage a night at the ballet without you babysitting me."

Bishop didn't look happy with that, but he didn't say anything else as we watched the driver alight from the vehicle to come collect me. Whether or not it bothered him, he remained silent until I turned away from the window to meet the driver at the door and Bishop called me back with a single word. "Anja..."

"What?" I asked, turning back to look at him.

"Don't go back there."

My heart twisted at the anguish on his face, and I took a step closer. Was he ready to admit his feelings for me? "Why not?" I breathed, silently willing him to say more.

"Are you interested in him?"

"Would you care if I was?"

The driver's knock sounded at the door, loud in the stillness between us. For a long moment I thought he might crack, as Mason put it, but then Bishop retreated behind his familiar walls, completely dodging my question. "Stay here with me and focus on trying to find your Sire."

"I'll be right there!" I called out. Resisting the urge to shout in frustration, I turned around again, heading for the door so he wouldn't see how close I was to crying. "I don't see what help I can be, I don't remember anything."

"Anja, it's important."

"You don't have the first clue what's important." I didn't care if he heard me that time as the bitterness spilled forth.

"I think I have a better perspective on that than you think."

"Whatever," I muttered. "He's waiting for me, I have to go."

"Anja, wait..." Bishop reached the door before me, leaning against it. Everything about him screamed that he didn't want me to go out with Aleksandr, why couldn't he admit it? "You have your whole life ahead of you, but it won't mean a damn thing if your Sire steps in and snaps his fingers, expecting you to drop everything and follow him. Don't you want to find out who he is?"

"I wouldn't do that, I'm not you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. The point is, I'm not beholden to this guy just because he made me. I'm my own vampire. He can't step forward and claim me without getting into a whole passel of trouble, right? That's my safety."

"Unless he's an Ellri."

"I thought you said that almost never happens."

"I'm starting to think it's the most likely option though. Anja, an Elder can do as he pleases, your life won't be your own."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," I muttered.

"You wouldn't say so if you'd ever met one. They can be very... persuasive."

"So what's the point in dwelling on it then? I might as well enjoy myself now if I'm doomed to this eternal servitude at some point, right? Besides, maybe I'll like being in his thrall. You were very close to your Sire, right?"

"Yes," he admitted begrudgingly.

"Don't I deserve the same kind of connection with someone? Someone to share my life with? Someone who will appreciate my... unique attributes and find a way to love me the way I ought to be loved?" We were very close now, though I don't remember either of us moving.

"Yes," he breathed, and I was almost afraid to believe my ears.

"What was that?"

Bishop tipped my face up to his by the chin, his thumb brushing across the bottom of my lip as his eyes swept over my face. "Yes, you deserve all that and more. I hope you find it some day." He let go of me and the sudden loss of his touch had my eyes pressing shut to hold back the tears.

Nothing. No kiss, no words from the heart, he didn't even blink when I talked about loving someone else. Maybe Mason was a sadist, or I was incredibly naïve to listen to his advice. I hoped he never actually tried to date my sister, his views on relationships were obviously flawed.

"Right," I cleared my throat. "Good, then you work on finding my Sire, I've got a date, brother." I threw the word back at him. It was the only weapon I had left.

"Fine."

"Fine," I nodded. "Okay, I'm going."

"Go then," he frowned, arms crossing over his chest.

"I will, just as soon as you move away from the door."

Bishop stepped aside, his face a mask as he murmured, "Have a nice time."

I didn't trust myself to speak, or even meet his gaze as I pulled the door open, managing a tepid smile for the driver in the hallway. Motherfrakker! I was hopelessly in love with Bishop and he couldn't care less... what was I going to do now?

Chapter Twenty-Three

There isn't much in the world that can't be cured by music. At least I'd always thought so. But that night no number of dancers leaping about in tights to a marginally talented orchestra could drag me out of the funk I'd sunk into. Oh sure, my toes still tapped to the allegro bits, but the slower numbers made me want to cry. If my date noticed, he didn't say so until we were back in the limo again, on the way to his hotel.

"You seem subdued tonight, milaya," he observed aloud, his hand covering mine.

"I'm sorry, Aleksandr," I squeezed his hand back. "It's been one of those days, so to speak. I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."

"Not at all. Don't worry though, I have something I believe will put a smile on your face."

"Oh? Like what?" I asked, but he wouldn't say anything more about it until we got to his place. The gray suits were back in place again, conducting their own synchronized ballet of servitude as we were escorted into the luxurious penthouse suite. Kursik went straight to a side table where a bottle of champagne sat chilling. There was no sign of the big bodyguard Booth, but I had no doubt he'd come running at the first hint of danger to his boss. Almost as if he was reading my mind, Aleksandr turned to me, a cautious expression on his face.

"You aren't expecting a visit from Bishop tonight, are you?" he hesitated, glass in hand.

"No, I don't think I'll be seeing him again for a while."

"Have you found another place to live then? I was surprised to find you still sharing a residence with him, given your conflicts of late."

"I'm currently considering my options," I hedged, accepting the tall glass and sipping politely.

"If I may urge a little patience, he might be relocating soon enough, then you have no need to leave your home," he winked, raising his glass to me before he drank.

"Relocating? He didn't say anything to me about that."

"It hasn't been finalized yet, but I have reason to believe your troublesome brother will be out of our hair for quite some time." There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice with that statement.

Did he mean that he'd had a hand in sending Bishop away? Or was that another reason why Bishop hadn't wanted to start anything with me? Had he known he was leaving town soon? Why hadn't he said as much?

"Now then," he said, gesturing for me to take a seat on the couch beside him. I took my place at his side, and he immediately closed the distance between us, his thigh pressed to mine. "To getting to know each other better," he proposed.

"The better to know you," I agreed, lifting my glass. This time I was prepared for him, I knew my bio backwards and forwards, but Aleksandr didn't seem interested in my past.

"I was thinking..." His fingers reached from the back of the couch to stroke the edge of my shoulder in the lightest caress.

"Yes?"

"That we could be of mutual benefit to each other."

"Mutual benefit?" I wondered if he was going to suggest I become his mistress or something. I'm sure there would be all manner of benefits socially and politically, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to get into bed with him, if you'll pardon the expression.

Aleksandr continued his caress, fingers exploring the curve of my shoulder, across the back of my neck, to rest on my other shoulder. "Yes, if we align our interests, there's nothing we might not conquer on the west coast." A light of avarice shone from his eyes and I realized we were thinking about two different things.

"Oh, you mean business." Lord, he must think I had quite a portfolio. How did vampires make their money? It seemed like they never had to worry about it much, and I made a mental note to ask Bishop about it. "Sorry, I thought you were referring to something else," I admitted sheepishly.

"They aren't mutually exclusive, are they?" He pressed a kiss to my shoulder and I had to force myself to relax.

"Ah no, I suppose not. I was always taught not to mix business with pleasure, or at least, that's the old adage. My mother never really broached the subject of pleasure with me or business really, I guess it's more of a guideline than a rule. But um..." shut up Anja, shut... up! I was babbling, unable to stop as he pressed another kiss to my shoulder, neck, jaw... until he covered my lips with his, stemming the nervous flow of words as he took possession of my mouth in a deep kiss.

I tried, I really did. But as sexy as Aleksandr was in a rakish sort of way, it wasn't what I wanted. He wasn't what I wanted. "I'm sorry, I don't think this is such a good idea after all," I apologized, breaking the kiss.

"Surely you don't tease..." There was a hint of coiled anger in his tone, and I scooted farther away from him, not liking the direction things were going one bit.

"Well no, I... that is, I think maybe we're moving a little fast is all."

Quick like a snake, his hands encircled my wrists, holding me fast. "I am accustomed to getting what I want."

"Let me go," I wriggled against his hold but didn't gain a centimeter. I knew he was older, but I hadn't expected him to be that much stronger than I was.

"How prettily you protest," he chuckled, shifting both my wrists to one hand to leave the other free to explore and conquer. Had I thought he was sexy? God, how could I have been so stupid? Bishop had warned me and now this was my own fault.

"Stop it... I don't want this."

"No worries, milaya, I know your game. I wonder, will you taste as sweet as the scent of your fear?" I felt the sting of his teeth at my throat in the same instant he reached inside my bodice and I screamed.

"I said, no!"

All at once the door burst open from the terrace and I felt Aleksandr lifted bodily into the air and thrown across the room. Oh no, not again...! Not that I wasn't grateful for Bishop's interference, far from it, but he'd said so himself - Kursik was a dangerous man, and now he'd made an enemy because of me.

"I'll have him flayed alive," Aleksandr muttered darkly, picking himself up.

"Please, Aleksandr, he's just trying to protect me." I started to put myself between them before it erupted into an all out fight. As I scrambled to my feet, I saw it wasn't Bishop at all, but a complete stranger standing over his body.

No, not a complete stranger...

As he turned, I saw those same blue eyes and flowing blonde hair that caught my attention from across the auditorium that night. "You..." I gasped, frozen in place.

No sign of recognition lessened Aleksandr's rage as he picked himself up. "I don't know who you are, but let me assure you, this will be the last mistake you make. Booth!"

My savior seemed unconcerned with the threat, his eyes never leaving mine. The hint of a smile curved his lips. "One moment, petal," he promised, stopping Aleksandr's charge one handed without even looking. Booth appeared, guns drawn, but before he could squeeze off a single shot, he'd been disarmed in a blur of motion too fast for my eyes to track. As I stared in horror, Booth sank down to his knees, a look of shock mirrored on his face as he keeled over, a gaping hole where his heart used to be. While we watched, his skin darkened, turning a mottled purple as he started to decompose.

"Who are you?" Kursik demanded, still sounding a little too uppity in my books and obviously to the newcomer's thinking as well.

In one swift movement, he had Kursik down on his back, easily holding him down without breaking a sweat. "I do not judge you because you infringed upon my property, as I have not publicly claimed her, in that I have no quarrel with you. I judge you because you attempted to soil this delicate flower with violence, and that I can not abide." His voice was deep and rich, in perfect English with an odd cadence I couldn't quite place. He commanded our attention as though we were his subjects, but he wasn't dressed in a kingly fashion. His faded blue jeans and long sleeved shirt had obviously seen plenty of wear, but they were scrupulously clean, except for the new spatter of blood from Booth's chest wound. Pale blonde hair fell past the tops of his shoulders, giving him a slightly wild look, as if the bloody hand wasn't enough. He scared me to death, but at the same time I couldn't look away. He was magnificent.

Aleksandr was definitely having second thoughts about his earlier threats. "Master... please, I did not know she was yours. I thought..."

"Think again." Slowly... far too slowly, he reached into Kursik's chest, grabbing hold of his heart, he squeezed. Kursik gave a strangled cry and I sank to my knees beside him.

"No... you can't just kill him!" Nevermind the fact that the guy had attacked me not two minutes before, I couldn't stand to see the torturous death Kursik was subjected to because of me. My hands chased his away from the wound, knowing that he only budged because he'd decided to, not because I had the strength to stop him doing anything he wanted to do. I pressed my hands to Aleksandr's chest, knowing it was too late, there wasn't anything to be done. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." I breathed as he started to decompose, his body turning to little more than ash in seconds, the moment the spark of life left his body.

"Why do you weep for this vermin?" He frowned down at me. "He would have taken far more than you were willing to give had I not intervened."

"I know," I sniffed, looking down at my bloodstained hands. "But he didn't deserve to die like that." No one did. At least Booth's death had been quick. A glance showed he was still mostly intact, slowly decomposing.

"Enough," he reached down to pull me to my feet. "We must be off."

"You're him, aren't you? My Sire," I blinked.

"Guilty as charged," he sketched a half bow. "And now you must take your place by my side, as is your right."

"By your side... I don't even know you."

"Don't you?" he smiled, his eyes sweeping over my body in an overly familiar way and I was reminded that he'd stripped me and dressed me in Viking clothing on the night he'd turned me.

Killed me.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Who do you think you are, anyway? You show up after ruining my life..."

"I gave you eternal life, it seemed a fair trade at the time."

"You left me to figure out what's going on all by myself without even the tiniest of instructions! I had no idea I was even a vampire until I tried to eat my best friend!"

"All due to circumstances completely out of my control. Now, leave off being cross with me, we have much to discuss and this is not the place to do it."

"You want me to go with you?" I couldn't help but hesitate. Though I felt a definite pull to him, I wasn't sure I was ready to leave everything behind to cater to his master plan.

"All I want is to take care of you. Come with me and you will want for nothing. You have all eternity to ask me your endless questions." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and I was struck by the fact that he must have watched me for a while to know about my tendency to ask questions. The idea unsettled me, despite my need for answers. Even if I did need someone to guide me through the vampire world, somehow I knew that if I left with him, Anja Evans would cease to exist.

Still, I had so many questions! "How about we slow this down a minute? Why don't you let me get cleaned up and we can talk?" I proposed.

"I would like nothing better, but we really must leave now, petal." His hand stretched out towards me, the same bloody hand that had gone through Aleksandr's chest. My Sire didn't seem to notice, or think I'd care, and that alone kept me from taking his hand without another thought.

A crash sounded from the hallway drawing our attention. Right on cue, Bishop strode in, the look of righteous indignation fading as he beheld the state of the room.

"Hello, Ulrik," my Sire greeted him coolly, and Bishop froze, his face a mask of shock.

"Jakob..." he hissed, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Ulrik?" I turned to Bishop, but he wasn't looking at me, his every muscle tensed and ready to spring.

"I will come for you, beloved," Jakob pledged, but by the time I turned to look back at him, he was gone.

"No, wait!" I yelled, I had no way to contact him! Just because I wasn't ready to run away with him and become his property didn't mean I didn't want to talk to him or get to know why he'd done what he did to me. But he was long gone. Another chance ruined because Bishop couldn't stay away, despite his continued protests that he was done with me.

"Damn it, Bishop, what are you doing here?" I demanded, hands clenching into fists as I took out my frustration on him. He didn't even bother to look at me, his eyes still trained on the terrace door Jakob disappeared through. "Did you hear me? You can't keep doing this to me!"

One of the gray suits stumbled into the room, blanching as he took in the carnage. Kursik was little more than a pile of sooty ash, and Booth had started to collapse in on himself, the hole where his heart used to be black and gaping. Belatedly I wondered if I was standing in the middle of a crime scene, or if it would all be swept under the rug (especially since you could now vacuum up what was left of Aleksandr, and Booth was well on his way to joining him).

"Bishop?"

"You." Ignoring me, he snapped his fingers at Kursik's servant. "Secure the premises, no one else in or out."

"At once," he nodded, desperate to leave the room. I heard shouted orders echoing down the halls after that, and I wondered if I would get to meet more of the Order now, since it definitely started to feel like a crime scene.

"What's going on? Did you know him? Why did he call you Ulrik?" I asked in a low voice.

"Not now," Bishop muttered, his fingers flying over his phone.

"What do you mean not now? What's going on? Am I under arrest or what?"

Brows drawing together into a single dark line, Bishop seemed to see me for the first time, taking in my disheveled state, the drying blood all over my hands. "Clean yourself up, I'll try to keep your name out of it as much as I can. Your best bet is to pretend you didn't see what happened."

"Keep my name out of it... but I'm in the middle of it, and I have a right to know what's going on," I insisted, not liking the tone of voice he used with me - as if I was guilty of something and he was angry for having to clean my mess up.

"I said get washed up, there isn't much time," he hissed, grabbing me by the elbow, he walked me over to the wet bar and thrust my hands under the spigot.

"Hey, I didn't do anything wrong," I muttered, scrubbing at my hands. "Besides, it's not like they won't find traces of blood in the sink. And what about the guard? He saw me here with blood all over my hands. Why can't we just tell the truth?"

"Because this isn't about you. Not anymore."

"Not about me? How can you say that? Aleksandr practically mauled me and now he's dead. Booth? Dead because of me. That Jakob as you called him, he came for me, called me his property. You expect me to believe you came charging in here because you didn't think it was about me?"

"I do have other concerns besides you, you know," he scowled. That was it, the last straw. I'd just met my elusive Sire for the first time and been abandoned by him again in the space of a few minutes, nearly been raped or worse by Kursik, and seen him killed in front of me, and Bishop didn't care at all!

"Fine. Then you worry about your concerns, I'm out of here." I could care less that he'd given instructions that no one should be let in or out of the penthouse, I stormed out. The look on my face was thunderous as I approached the door, expecting an argument, but the two suits stepped aside, bowing low. The stony expression remained on my face until I got all the way to the lobby and out the front exit, only crumpling into tears as I realized I wasn't sure where to go.

It didn't seem right to go home, not in the mood I was in. I started walking, having no particular destination in mind. After a while I found myself in a completely unfamiliar part of town. I could hear the cry of gulls nearby and smell the brine of the sea, but all I saw was ugly, run down buildings.

At the time I didn't care if I looked hopelessly out of place, alone in my ruined gown on the darkened streets of San Francisco, or if Jakob was nearby, waiting for a chance to swoop down and steal me away again. All I knew was that Bishop had hurt me far worse than Kursik had for the second time that night. So you can understand why I didn't slow down when I heard him behind me.

"Anja... wait up."

I pretended like I didn't hear him, the click of my heels accelerating as I hurried on ahead, as if I had a destination in mind.

"Anja... I'm sorry." His voice sounded closer. "Can you stop for a minute? We should talk." I swiped at my eyes, steeling myself before I turned around to see him loping up behind me, his features etched with worry. "Are you alright?"

Oh sure, now he was concerned. "Could you not be nice to me right now? Because I'm trying to decide if I can hate you and it's mixing me all up." It was such a polar opposite to how he'd acted in the hotel room, I started to wonder if he suffered from schizophrenia or if he secretly had an evil twin.

"Are you alright?" Bishop repeated, his hands lightly clasping my arms.

"No. I'm really not. On an epic scale. You chase off my Sire just as I'm finally getting some answers and then turn around and act like I'm the bad guy. How could you do that to me?"

"It's my job."

"What is? Following me night and day? I don't need you riding to the rescue." Okay, so maybe I had needed help with Kursik, but I started to believe Bishop wasn't following me to protect me from him, he'd been trying to catch my Sire. I was a means to an end, nothing more.

"Then stop getting into such stupid situations," he growled, getting angry again.

"Why do you even care? You know what I think? I think you're so screwed up inside, so miserable, that you need to fill your life up with parts of mine, because then you can convince yourself that you have a purpose," I shot back at him.

"I have a purpose, I have the Order."

"You can't blame this on the Order, they didn't ask you to give up your whole life."

"You have no idea what I've given up." His eyes blazed green fire, his hands tightening around my arms painfully, but I didn't flinch or pull away.

"What about Mason? He doesn't live like a monk," I challenged.

"Mason's still wet behind the ears, he's only been dead for thirty years. Have him come back in two hundred and tell me if he's still scamming on girls."

"Alright then, what purpose was there in pulling me out of there?"

"Because I didn't want to see you get hurt, is that so hard to understand?"

"Don't pretend you care about me," I laughed on the edge of a sob. "I know why you were really there. This is all about that Jakob guy, isn't it? I saw your face when you finally laid eyes on him. You don't give a damn about me, I'm nothing but bait to you. I'm..."

All of a sudden his mouth crashed against mine as he silenced me with a deep kiss, arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me close. After half a second I recovered enough to kiss him back. Scared to death it might end at any moment, I wrapped my arms around his neck, but he gave no sign of letting me go. Instead, he walked me back towards the nearest building, pressing me up against the cool concrete bricks. What was it about us and kissing up against buildings? Not that I was complaining...

All too soon, the kiss ended, but Bishop made no move to pull away. To my surprise, he didn't look at all conflicted about having kissed me in the first place. I was too afraid to say anything for fear of breaking the magic spell between us and sending us back to another argument. Or worse, send him pulling away from me again. It was Bishop who spoke first, fingers lightly tracing the shell of my ear. "It's partly about him, yes," he admitted.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Jakob, and he sired Carys. I should have thought of it before, only I... we all thought he was dead."

He'd sired Bishop's Sire? That sounded horribly convoluted in a sick kind of way. "Does that make us cousins or something?" Better than brother and sister, but still...

"No, it doesn't work like that, that's not the part that troubles me."

"What troubles you then?"

"He's an Ellri, which means if he comes for you again, I won't be able to do anything to stop him."

Which meant I was probably about to be dumped again before we really got things started. Before I could open my mouth to ask anything else Bishop plied me with another slow, drugging kiss.

It didn't have the same desperate heat of the blood-fueled kiss, but it was all that much sweeter for knowing there wasn't anything behind it, except that he wanted to kiss me. At least I hoped so. As the kiss drew to a close, I gathered my courage around me like a shield, my eyes pleading with him to be honest with me for once.

"Tell me that wasn't about blood or making anyone jealous or anything to do with your job."

"No, that most definitely wasn't anything to do with the Order," he smiled, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as he looked down at me. "What am I going to do with you?" he sighed, thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth.

Chasing after his thumb, I drew it into my mouth, tongue swirling over the rough pad of his thumb. "I can think of a few things," I replied, my voice hoarse after hearing his little groan of desire.

"You make me forget everything I am." Bishop's anguish twisted my heart as he traced the curves of my face, and I caught hold of his hand, pressing it to my cheek.

"Maybe that means its time for you to be more?"

"I can't lay claim to you, not now."

"Maybe I don't want to be claimed by anyone, did you ever think of that?"

"Anja..."

"I know, it's more complicated than that. But I don't care if this guy is as old as dirt, I'm not going to fawn all over him just because he crooks his finger. Am I curious about him? Yes. Do I want to learn more about him and why he chose me? Yes. But I'm not ready to be anybody's property." I didn't care how dreamy his smile was.

"I'll help you find him if that's what you want. It'll be harder if he doesn't want to be found, but now that we know who we're looking for, I think I can manage it."

"Thank you, I appreciate that a lot. But just to be absolutely clear, he's not the one I want."

"Are you sure? The bond between Sire and progeny is not to be taken lightly."

I thought back to the pull I felt when Jakob stretched his hand out to me. It was there, but nowhere near what I felt when Bishop looked at me. "Can we go back to the part where you kiss me again?" My hopeful smile widened as his lips descended over mine again. I could definitely get used to this...

"There's just one thing I want to know," I asked as we parted.

"What's that?"

"Who's Ulrik?"

Feedback is Love,

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review today!

Read on for a special preview of Lisa Olsen's novel, Angel of Mercy, available now!

Books by Lisa Olsen:

The Touch

Pretty Witches All in a Row

Moonsong

Nine Steps to Sara

The Fallen Series

Angel of Mercy

Mercy for the Wicked

Mercy for the Damned

Child of Mercy

Mercy for the Fallen (end of 2013)

Forged Bloodlines Series

Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down

Meet Me When the Sun Goes Down

Find Me When the Sun Goes Down

Miss Me When the Sun Goes Down

Follow Me When the Sun Goes Down

Hear Me When the Sun Goes down (early 2014)

The Company

The Company of Shadows

The Company of Darkness (announced)

The Vampire Diaries

Tabula Rasa

For more information, visit the author's website at http://www.lisaolsen.net

Angel of Mercy

Chapter One

Have you ever been in so much pain it ceases to have any meaning? So much pain you can't move, can't breathe, can't think, can't even scream? So much pain your brain applies a filter to it, otherwise you wouldn't be able to survive it with your mind intact? Cast adrift on an ocean of pain, my body tossed and turned helplessly, buffeted by forces beyond my control. It sounds almost poetic, doesn't it? But at the time I prayed for death, anything to ease that white hot agony.

I wish I could say there was a bright white light waiting for me at the end of a glowing tunnel. In reality, I was so focused on the misery, there could've been a three ring circus around me and I wouldn't have noticed. How long I hovered there I never knew, time ceased to have all meaning.

But then something happened.

A soft golden light wrapped around my body, and a feeling of warmth and comfort descended over me. At first I thought that was finally it. I was gonna die, and I'm not gonna lie, there was a measure of relief in that realization. Relaxing, I basked in that warm glow, soaking it up like the summer sun after the chill of winter. Only instead of the pain fading away and being carried off into the great beyond it grew worse, something I hadn't thought possible.

I was still reeling from that new torture when the pain faded and disappeared so suddenly, I could feel the echo of it for long heartbeats after it was gone. Drawing in my first unlabored breath, my eyelids fluttered open, vision blurry in the uncertain light as I tried to focus.

Dimly, my mind registered the fact that a man stood over me, his hands lightly pressed to my abdomen. Before I could open my mouth to ask who he was and why exactly he was touching me, he looked up and our eyes locked. Neither one of us spoke, though I did feel his hands pull away swiftly. The man stared down at me with an expression of surprise mingled with fascination, as though I was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen before. I have to say, he was pretty captivating as well.

His eyes were the most vivid shade of blue - the kind you only see in magazine ads for contact lenses or on movie stars. They practically glowed in the muted light, and a golden nimbus surrounded him, flickering and crackling like a bug zapper. My lips parted to speak, but a wave of dizziness washed over me, making the room dip and sway. I swear my eyes only closed for a second, and when I opened them again, he was gone. Puzzling over whether or not any of it was real, I sank back into sweet oblivion, my sleep restful and devoid of pain.

* * *

The next thing I became aware of was the horrible taste in my mouth, like I'd been giving my cat, Mimsy a tongue bath (not something I'm into by the way, blecch). Speaking of tongues, mine felt thick and clumsy, and it was difficult to swallow. Automatically, my hand shot out for the water bottle I keep on the bedside table, but it came up empty, instead smacking against something hard and metallic. I tentatively cracked an eye open, brows knitting together as it sank into my mental fog - I wasn't in my bedroom.

In fact, I wasn't at home at all.

"Wha...?" The trappings of a hospital room were unmistakable, even without the equipment. The automatic bed was a dead giveaway, let alone the IV sticking out of my arm. The nurse call button was nowhere in sight, nor was there any sign of activity in the darkened room. I was in the hospital, I just had no idea why or how I'd gotten there.

Automatically my mind started to go over what I did know. My name is Merceline Renault, though everybody calls me Mercy (except for my mother), and I worked at a nightclub named Eden in Seattle as a bartender. Not the most glamorous job, I know, but I liked having my days free. Plus, it's fast paced, the club plays great music, and the tips are fantastic on the weekends. Satisfied that I seemed to remember my phone number, my ABC's and more than I cared to admit of the lyrics to every musical ever made, I turned my attention back to my surroundings.

"Hello?" I called out, but it made little more than a croak from my parched throat. The monitor by my side beeped softly and I squinted at the display, noting the steady climb in my pulse. 110, 119, 127, 134... That couldn't be good...

A harried nurse came in, eyes on the equipment and completely ignoring me, frowning as she caught sight of the display.

"Hey..." My voice was stronger, but I still sounded like the crypt keeper version of my normal speaking voice.

"Sweet Jesus!" The nurse jumped, clearly not expecting me to be awake even though the monitors were going crazy. "When did you wake up?" she blinked. Her hair was the bright ginger of a natural redhead. A color I had tried and failed to duplicate over the years before deciding to accept my own deep, chestnut tresses. She looked even paler than me, which was hard to do. My devotion to sunscreen was legendary, even in the overcast Seattle weather, but at least I'd been spared the freckles covering her exposed skin.

I jumped because she jumped, and the monitor beeped its annoyance over the corresponding rise in my pulse. My hand rose instinctively to my chest, pulling at the IV sticking out of my wrist, and the air sucked through my teeth at the sting. "Have some water?" I gave her a pleading look, unable to phrase the request any more eloquently with the burning in my throat.

"Oh... yes, I'll be right back." Right back turned out to be a relative term as it was easily a few minutes before she returned, a small plastic cup of ice chips in hand. "I can give you one teaspoon of ice chips right now, but you'll have to wait for the doctor before anything else." A rueful smile was given along with the spoonful of ice.

I savored the cooling relief as the ice rapidly melted, swallowing easier. "Thank you," I smiled, grateful to hear my voice start to sound a little stronger, more like myself.

"You're welcome." The nurse smiled back, picking up her touchpad, fingers flying over the surface to enter my vital statistics. "I'm sorry if I scared you before. We weren't expecting you to wake up for quite some time."

"S'okay," I waved off her concern. "I wasn't expecting to wake up here at all," I admitted.

"I've put in a request to let Dr. Michaelson know you're awake though, and she should be in fairly soon to check up on you. In the meantime, how are you feeling? Any dizziness or nausea?" she paused expectantly.

She said that like I was supposed to know who Dr. Michaelson was, but I decided to nod and smile, not wanting to admit that bit of ignorance. Instead I gave a longing look towards the plastic cup of ice chips. Somehow I had the feeling even though she seemed friendly enough, the nurse wouldn't be likely to break her own rules right after she finished explaining them.

"Um no, not dizziness exactly, just a little out of it I guess." A bit of an understatement; I felt like I'd been woken up after a double shift at the club with only a couple hours of sleep.

"Good, that's good," the nurse nodded absently, setting down the pad to take my blood pressure next. "Try to be still and breathe regularly."

Did I look like I'd been about to jump up and do the Macarena? Lying there obediently, I began to notice a pale, dusky rose aura surrounding her, standing out in the dim lighting. At least, it's what I always thought an aura would look like, I'd never seen one before. At first I chalked it up to tired eyes, but after a surreptitious rub I wasn't so sure.

"Your blood pressure looks good, what about your pain level? How would you rate it on a scale of one to ten?" she asked.

It took me a minute to realize she'd asked a question. I was too distracted by the pretty color, trying to see if it looked any different if I closed one eye or the other, or if blinking had any effect. Even then it took some thought to process what she said. Should I be in pain? Shifting in the bed, I felt tired and sore, but nothing horrible. "It's not too bad, maybe a one or two. Where am I?" It was time for some questions of my own.

The nurse nodded again and entered the data into her pad. "The ICU of Northwest Hospital," she answered readily.

My brows climbed at the mention of the Intensive Care Unit. Just how bad off was I? "How long have I been here?"

"A few days. You were brought in on Saturday night and went into emergency surgery." The nurse's face grew sympathetic as if she pitied me for the gaps in my memory.

"A few days? What day is it now? Wait, what kind of surgery?" All at once a dozen questions leapt to mind, each clamoring to be answered.

The nurse's expression grew shuttered, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. "You know... I should really let the doctor come and talk to you." A step was taken towards the door.

"Wait..." Desperately my eyes scanned the nurse's scrubs for a nametag and spied the badge hanging around her neck. "Rachel..." I tried a friendly smile. "I can appreciate you're not supposed to discuss my medical condition, but you gotta cut me a break here, okay? The last thing I remember, I was at work Saturday night and the next thing I know I'm in the ICU with tubes hanging out of my arm and up my nose."

Indecision warred on Rachel's features, and she hovered indecisively at the bedside. "That's really all you remember?"

Now I felt bad for making it sound like I was an amnesia case. "I remember who I am and all that good stuff," I admitted readily. "I remember stepping out into the alley behind the club. It was my turn to take out the garbage and there was..." My focus shifted as it started to come back to me, eyes staring off into space as I pictured it. I remembered the scuffle between the two men, one of them had a knife... He'd been waling on the man in the long, brown coat who hadn't defended himself at all. He just stood there, a dazed expression on his face, even when the knife plunged into his side.

"He stabbed him..." I murmured, my face twisting with emotion as I saw it again in my mind. "And I screamed... I threw the garbage can at him to make him stop, but he batted it aside... He..." I swallowed as I remembered him stalking towards me, the bloodied knife glinting in the poor light. He must have attacked me then, though I didn't remember it specifically or any of the pain. "I'm a little fuzzy on the details after that. Who brought me in, do you know?"

Rachel picked up the datapad, paging through the records. "Um, you came in via ambulance, transported from... Second Avenue and South Washington Street, is that where you work?"

I nodded, trying to cast my mind back again but the fog was still firmly in place, making it difficult to wade though. The image came unbidden of the man in the long coat, the same man I'd seen in my hospital room with crystalline blue eyes. Staring down at me, his expression a mixture of sadness and awe, and something I couldn't quite define. "Have I had any visitors?" I asked suddenly, wondering if she had a record of who he was.

"No, we don't allow visitors in the ICU. Though I think you had a couple of people waiting around when you were first brought in. I didn't talk to them."

"There wasn't a guy in here earlier?" A frown tugged at my lips. Had it all been a dream? With the way my day was shaping up, I wouldn't have been too surprised.

"Nooo, I don't think so. Unless you mean during the dayshift? I think Bryan was working."

A nurse. He hadn't looked like a nurse. I decided it wasn't important in the end, my mind already switching tacks. "Can I call my brother? Let him know I'm alright?"

A shake of the head was given. "Sorry, there aren't any phones in here, but I can call him for you if you like," Rachel offered. "You'll probably be moved to a regular room soon though if that's any consolation."

"Yeah, could you? I'd really appreciate it." I gave Matty's phone number to the helpful nurse, hoping he remembered to pay his cell phone bill that month or I'd have to call my mom. And I really didn't want to call my mom.

Hating hospitals on general principle, I couldn't wait to be moved. The sooner they gave me the green light to get out of intensive care, the closer I'd be to getting out of the hospital altogether. As it was, I'd probably end up seriously in debt if I'd already been there for a few days and had emergency surgery. The health insurance offered by the club wasn't exactly comprehensive, but it was better than nothing. Besides, they couldn't squeeze blood from a stone. I had few assets they could try to seize as collateral. Hell, they were welcome to try and take my sometimes running car, it was probably cheaper to take the bus than foot the repair bills anyway.

"You should try and get some rest now. We'll send the doctor in as soon as she gets here, alright?" Rachel smiled, picking up the datapad. Tucking it under her arm, she paused by the foot of the bed, her expression inscrutable.

I stared back, waiting for her to say something, but she just stood there. "What is it? Is something wrong?" I couldn't help but ask as she lingered.

"No, I'm just... surprised to see you awake and doing so well. I'm glad you came out of it," she said simply. Turning on her heel, she left without another word.

"Yeah... doing so well." A long drawn out breath left my body as my head fell to one side, eyes growing heavy again.

