

# A Vow of Tears

The First Vow

Jo Rentschler

## A Vow of Tears

The First Vow

By Jo Rentschler

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental or is used fictitiously.

A Vow of Tears

The First Vow

COPYRIGHT © 2020 2nd edition by Jo Rentschler

Previously published by Jill H. O'Bones

COPYRIGHT © 2012 1st edition by Jill H. O'Bones

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781301583652

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

2013 Cover design by Jill H. O'Bones

Images provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Foto76, Zole4, Gualberto107, Danilo Rizzuti, Voraorn, Suat Eman

To my son

I love you, Booger

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my friends for taking time out of their busy lives to listen to my ideas, and a special thanks to Susan S., Susan P., and Laura M. for being the first to read.

To my family: thank you for your support when I disappeared in the computer and for ignoring me when I started to talk to myself.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Title page

About Jill

Chapter 1

' _Where am I?'_ Sara thought as she walked with slow steps down an alley. She looked around in the dim light, boxes, damp with rain were scattered around overfilled dumpsters.

' _What am I doing here?'_ she asked herself, starting to feel real panic flow through her body as she kept walking. Images of her mother's house came back, an old man grabbing her son. Remembering, she quickened her pace. _'Eric,'_ she thought, _'I'm looking for Eric.'_

The alley ended at a crumbling red brick wall, dark patches of moss clung to it, making it look like eyes were staring back at her. Someone was leaning against it in a shaft of bright sunlight. Sara's heart quickened, had she found her son?

As Sara got closer, she realized it wasn't Eric, but a woman dressed in a faded pair of blue jeans and a black blouse. Slowing, Sara stared at the woman's long hair, so white that when a gentle breeze lifted it, it reminded Sara of falling snow.

She started to take another step but stopped when her eyes were drawn to the woman's left forearm, just below the crook of her elbow, and she focused on the dark smear on the woman's white skin. From it, two thick streams of deep red liquid made their way down her arm towards her wrist, the drops falling one by one to the ground. As Sara looked at it, she felt the hair on her arms tickle her skin with anticipation.

Walking towards the woman with slow steps, Sara tried to keep her eyes on the woman's face to see if the soft expression would change, but the blood kept drawing her attention. Sara's heart started to beat harder with excitement as she stood before the woman. A chill ran over her skin as if there was a cold winter's breeze coming from the woman's body.

She took a step closer and was about to ask the woman about her injury, but she met the woman's bright silver eyes. New words came out of her mouth before she knew she was saying them: "I want my son back."

Sara's eyes didn't fully grasp the quickness with which the woman moved. Suddenly, Sara felt her shoulder grabbed, and the woman's other arm came towards her. She seized it, slowing the attack, but still felt something hit between her breasts. Shearing pain coursed over her skin and into her body.

Clutching onto whatever the woman was holding with both of her hands, Sara tried to stop it from going deeper inside, but her hands failed to gain a firm grip, feeling them slipping on the smooth, hard surface as it slowly slid between her palms and into her chest. Sara tried to step back, but the woman's grip on her shoulder wouldn't let her. She gazed into the woman's eyes and silver pools with pinpricks of light blue shone back at her, anger deep within, but the woman's eyes slowly started to fill with puzzlement.

' _This isn't a dream!'_ Sara's mind shouted as she looked at what the woman was trying to push into her chest. A piece of wood, sanded to a smooth finish, was sliding between Sara's palms and through her filthy pink blouse, making its way into her chest.

The woman fought against Sara's grip, and the tip of the stake slowly slid deeper, every inch of Sara's skin felt ablaze as it went in.

"Please," Sara begged as she tried to back away from the woman, her heart beat wildly, "don't kill me. My son."

The woman pushed Sara against the brick wall, holding her against it, and looked into Sara's eyes, easing the pressure that bore into Sara's flesh.

"Margret, what are you waiting for?" a man's voice said from somewhere nearby, it was as rough as a file, grating and aggressive. "She's one."

"Yes, but there's something different about her."

"Who cares? We need to finish it. Do it now!"

Sara felt the pressure return, she took a breath, no longer able to hold back her tears as she tried to keep the stake from moving any farther. "Eric," she whimpered.

"Margret!" the man said, his voice becoming furious. "Quit playing and get it over with."

"Who's Eric?" the woman asked in a soothing voice, her silver eyes searching Sara's.

"It just turned, you have to kill her," the man yelled.

Sara turned her head as the man walked into her sight. He stared at her with bright silver eyes that shone like new dimes, his handsome face frozen behind a hard and angry expression. Only strands of his dark brown hair moved as they lifted with the breeze.

"Please," Sara's voice came out as a whisper. "My son."

"Eric, is he your son?" the woman asked.

Sara turned back to her and nodded. "Please, I just want him back. I won't tell anyone." Tears blurred her vision as she spoke.

"We can't let her kill her own child!" the man yelled. "Destroy her now!"

"No!" Sara screamed, "I'm trying to find him. The old man who tried to kill me took him." Sara could feel her heart hammering harder against her chest, and her body began to tremble as she felt warm liquid seep from her chest, damping her bra. It was then she started to realize she had failed. Her son was going to suffer at the hands of a crazy old man because, for some reason, this woman, Margret, was going to kill her.

A bright flash of light went through her eyes as her thumping heart hit the tip of the stake. Fire encased her heart and it convulsed in agony.

Images of people and places flashed from behind her eyes, the last was of her husband, and behind him, thick lines of blue and yellow spun in a slow circle. _'Matt!'_ her mind cried as the world around her dimmed. _'I'm sorry I couldn't protect our son!'_

Sara sat with her sister under a blue and yellow striped umbrella as the sun beat down on the black pavement. Leaning forward, towards the paper cup she held between her hands, she drew some of the ice-cold pop from the straw into her mouth. As she swallowed, screams of delight erupted from her right. Looking over, she saw the tail end of a rollercoaster disappearing behind a building, the cars' rattle echoing, then the laughter of children erupted next to the food stand, and Sara turned to watch as they tossed bits of food over the metal railing into the water, the fish swirling and splashing on the water's surface as each large carp tried to be the first to suck up the kids' offerings.

"Oh," Robin said, nudging Sara's elbow with hers, almost knocking it off the table, "look at those two. They are hot! And old enough to be in college."

Sara glanced over at the two men as they walked towards the food stand, and she agreed with her sister; they were both cute. Their t-shirts were stuck to their backs with sweat, showing they both had athletic builds. The shorter one had dark, sandy hair, cut short, while the taller one's blonde hair hung down just above his shoulders in unruly curls. Sara felt his height was what made him cuter, and she quickly looked away when his eyes glanced over to their direction.

"You say you're a witch," Robin whispered, leaning towards her. "Cast a spell to get them over here."

Sara shook her head, "I told you before, that's not what the craft is for."

"Then what good is devil-worshiping?"

"I don't worship the devil," Sara snapped. "How would you feel if someone made you do something that you didn't want to do? That's dark magick."

"It's not like I want you to make them jump off a bridge. I just want to meet them."

"Then go talk to them," Sara said, taking another glimpse at the men.

As they stood next to each other at the counter, Sara saw the tall one was only an inch or so over his friend's head, and he was a little more muscular. When they turned to walk away, Sara saw both of them cast another look in their direction, and she quickly looked back down at the table, hoping they didn't see her checking them out.

Sara knew her sister was right, that the guys were old enough to be in college, but what college guy would even take a second look at her, a high school girl, when there was Robin?

Besides being older and a hair taller, Robin got her looks from their mother, the blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tall, skinny frame, while Sara got her father's brown hair, brown eyes, and his larger bone structure.

"Robin," Sara muttered, looking to the rollercoaster as it started up the hill that would send the cars into the two loops, "I want to ride the _Dragon_."

"I'm not going on that thing," Robin snorted. "It will mess up my hair." She stood. "We're going to follow those two."

"I don't want to chase boys, Robin."

"You're not a little kid anymore, Sara. You're sixteen, and you need a boyfriend."

"I don't want one."

"Well, I do," Robin said, taking Sara's wrist. "The tall one is mine," she added, pulling Sara along.

Sara stood next to Robin as she played a dart game, but instead of paying attention to her sister, Sara watched the line move closer to the _Sidewinder_ ; the two guys in the next group to get on.

The ride was set up like a giant pendulum, the passengers seated in a circle. For the last half hour, she had watched the orange and blue machine spin and swing its passengers around as her sister waited and watched the guys.

"Are we going to go on any more rides?" Sara asked as she felt her skin burning in the sun. _'Just what I need, more freckles,'_ she thought and looked over at her sister. Robin's tan skin looked as if it was getting darker. That was the only thing Robin got from their dad, his ability to tan, while Sara got their mom's fair, freckle-prone skin.

"Yes," Robin moaned, "when they pick one that won't mess up my hair, we'll join them."

"We've been following them for almost two hours."

"And they have been checking me out," Robin said, running her fingers through her locks. "How's my hair?"

"Like it's been since we got here," Sara groaned. "You know all of that hairspray can't be good for your health."

Robin turned and gave Sara a dirty look. "Well, you need to comb yours, it's all tangled."

"Whatever, I'm going on a ride."

"Mom and Dad said we are to go together," Robin stated.

"Yeah, together, not stand around following boys."

"What are you bitching about? We rode some rides."

"Please, the _Falling Star_ and _Sky Ride_ , not very thrilling. I want to ride something a little more fun."

"Fine," Robin huffed, "how about the _Tilt-a-Whirl_?"

"How about that one?" Sara pointed to the _Sidewinder_.

"No way," Robin shrieked. "Oh, they're getting off," she whispered, "Look like we're having fun."

"You might be, but I'm not."

"Quit being a child."

Sara watched the guys as they walked by them and she felt Robin grab her arm as she got ready to follow them, but they didn't go far; they went into the men's restroom.

"I'm done," Sara yelled, pulling her arm from Robin's hand. "I'm going on the _Dragon_."

"You're not supposed to go without me. Mom and Dad are going to be mad."

"You can wait here. I'm not going to spend the afternoon following people around the park."

"But the guys..."

"What about them? They're having fun and I'm being pulled around behind you like a dog. What do you think Mom and Dad will say about that?" Sara snapped, then took a breath. "They paid for the hotel and trolley so we can go on rides while they're at the farm show. I'm not going to let their money go to waste." As she turned and walked towards the entrance to the rollercoaster, she could feel Robin's glare following her.

Slowly the line inched forward, and Sara could feel the anticipation in her stomach, feeling as if a weight was expanding inside of her each time the structure rattled beneath her feet.

Hearing the wheels grin on the tracks as the train came to a stop, she watched as the people got out of the cars onto the empty platform across the track and made their way to the exit.

The line moved as the people ahead of her got into the rollercoaster's dark green cars, the operator checking the harnesses holding the passengers in, and a few seconds later, she watched the train start to move along the metal rails.

Her palms began to sweat, and her heart thumped with excitement as she moved with the line, taking her place between the metal bars at the side of the track, second from the back, and waited.

"Hey," someone shouted, and she looked towards the front where the voice had come from. A middle-aged man who sat at the controls was looking at her. "Are you riding alone?" he yelled. The loud and excited voices around her turned into whispers.

She felt her face begin to get hot as she nodded.

He left his platform and walked towards her. "It's two per car," he said. "You'll have to wait until there is someone to ride with you." She nodded and looked down at her feet, ready to get out of line.

The man shouted, "Single rider, any single riders," and Sara felt her face getting hotter as people looked at her, then to their friend, whispering.

Faintly she heard someone respond to the man's calls. "Right here," a male voice replied.

Taking a quick look back, she saw people moving aside as a lone head came up the ramp, and she looked down at her feet when the operator pointed in her direction. Her heart flipped when she glanced over at the stranger who now stood next to her; it was the tall guy her sister had made her follow around the park. She turned and looked down at the metal rails, knowing Robin was going to be pissed if she found out.

Sara heard the cars rumble towards her, slowing with a shriek of metal on metal as they came under the overhang, stopping with a thud. The shoulder harnesses clicked, and the passengers lifted them over their heads and got out, leaving the car empty for her. She took a breath and climbed in, the guy following.

He sat down and looked over at her. "First time?" he asked.

She nodded.

He smiled a smile that made her heart flutter. "A virgin," he said, chuckling. "You're not going to puke, are you?"

"I hope not," she replied shyly.

She watched the operator lower the shoulder harnesses over the passengers in front of her. The harnesses each gave a click as they locked, then he gave them a pull to make sure they were secured. When he came to the car she was in, he repeated the procedure, making sure she was pinned to the seat.

"Matt," the guy said, holding his hand towards her.

"Sara," she replied, quickly giving his hand a shake.

"Where's your friend?" he asked.

She looked away, embarrassed he'd noticed them stalking him. "She's my sister. This isn't her kind of ride."

The cars lurched forward and with jerking movements, they went slowly up the steep hill. She felt her heart jump into her throat when they reached the top; it was a long way to the ground. The train started down, and she felt herself lift from her seat as gravity released its hold for a split second. Suddenly she was forced back down as the cars reached the bottom.

"So what did you think?" Matt asked while the cars began to slow to a stop at the landing.

Sara looked ahead at the people who were waiting for their turn. "Short," her voice came out in a gasp. "It went so fast, it didn't even feel like we went upside down."

Matt laughed as the cars jerked to a stop, there was a click, and she felt the pressure rise from her chest as Matt pushed the harness up and over their heads. Sara slowly stood, her legs feeling shaky. She stepped to the platform and followed the rest of her fellow passengers away from the ride and down the ramp.

"Did you have fun?" Matt asked from behind her.

She looked back at him, meeting his blue eyes. "It was great," she said with a smile.

The ramp ended in a big white room, and he walked next to her towards the sunlight that came in from the open archway. She could see his friend sitting on a nearby bench. "See you around," Matt said and walked away.

Sara went out of the building, scanning for Robin, seeing her leaning against a tree and, from the look on her face, Sara could tell she was not happy.

"Was it fun?" Robin growled.

"It was great!"

"Your hair is a mess," Robin said, reaching to touch it.

Sara jerked away, "It's going to get worse, I'm going on another one."

"No, you're not."

Sara didn't reply as she walked towards the _Sidewinder_. Standing in line, she could feel the hot, late summer sun beating down on her and felt a drop of sweat run down her back. Glancing around at the waiting crowd, she saw most of their clothes were also damp, but she didn't know if it was from sweat or from one of the water rides. Shifting from foot to foot, she waited for her turn to get strapped into one of the many chairs that circled the shaft, which would lift and spin her in the air.

She felt just a little dizzy as she got off the ride, but it was fun, and could still feel the lightness in her stomach caused when the ride swung her up into the air. Robin was standing next to the games, even more pissed than before. Sara gave her a smile then walked in the opposite direction.

"And where do you think you're going?" Robin barked, coming after her.

" _The Outlaw_."

Robin grabbed Sara's arm, her fingernails biting into flesh. "Thanks to you, I lost those guys."

"Then go find them," Sara said, yanking her arm from her sister's fingers and walking away.

She went straight for the ride, trying to ignore the pain in her arm. _'Thanks for the bruise, Robin.'_ Sara thought as she ran her fingers over her the spot Robin clawed, making sure there wasn't any blood.

"Are you riding alone?" a man's voice said next to her.

She flinched, turned, and saw Matt was standing next to her.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he said.

"It's ok."

"Not one of your sister's rides?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Care if I join you?"

"Not at all."

A few minutes went by and the line slowly moved closer to the ride. "So, are you in college?" Matt asked, breaking the silence between them.

"High school," Sara answered. "My sister starts college this fall," she added. "Are you in college?"

"Yeah, Greg and I both go to _Iowa State_. Is that where your sister is going?"

"Yeah," she said. "What are you studying?" she asked, not wanting to talk about Robin.

"I'm a sophomore; my major is history, goal, to be a teacher," he said dramatically.

"That's cool," Sara replied. "I like ancient history, Egypt and stuff like that."

"Their religious beliefs are confusing but amazing," he said, then added, "Greg is studying accounting and business."

Sara smiled, not knowing what to say.

"So where do you go to school?"

"Oak Creek."

"That's not too far from Ames, is it?"

Sara nodded, "It's only about twenty miles."

"So, what are your college plans?"

"Haven't really decided yet, but I'm leaning towards advertising or journalism."

"That's cool."

The line slowly moved forward again, and they stood next to each other in the bright sun. Sara could feel more sweat run down her back.

"So, what do you do when not being pulled around by your sister?" he asked with a slight hint of humor in his voice.

She turned, met his eyes, and felt her face warming from embarrassment.

"What?" he said. "You didn't think that we wouldn't notice you?"

Sara started to blush more.

"Greg wanted to see how long it would have taken you two to notice if we started to walk around in circles, but you took off for the _Dragon_."

She looked down at the ground, not wanting him to see how red her face was getting. "Sorry, but I got bored."

He blew out a burst of air that made Sara look back at him; he stood straighter and added a surprised expression to his face, his eyes smiling at her. "I'm boring? I'm going to have to prove you wrong."

Sara felt as if the line moved faster as they started to talk about movies and music, finding out they both had the same interests, and before she knew it, they were sitting next to each other as the car roared down the hill, the wooden frame holding the ride above the ground creaked and the metal wheels rattled as they grated on the tracks. She tried to fight the g-forces pressing her body against Matt, but gravity put her exactly where it wanted her.

She was smiling as they walked down the ramp towards the exit, Matt next to her, and she felt his arm graze her as they walked that sent goosebumps across her skin. Sara's eyes scanned the people who were walking along the path, afraid Robin would see. Luckily, the only familiar person was Greg, who was sitting on a bench next to a food stand.

"I guess I'd better find my sister," Sara said slowly as they stood on the blacktop path, but a part of her didn't want to say goodbye.

"See you around," Matt said with a small smile, then turned and walked towards his friend.

Sara went in the opposite direction, to where she'd left Robin. As she walked past the _Sidewinder_ without seeing her sister, she felt a gnawing in her stomach grow that Robin had left her behind. Suddenly, she felt someone seize her arm, clutching it in a vice-tight grip. Turning, she met Robin's angry eyes.

"How dare you!" she snarled and squeezed tighter, digging her fingernails into Sara's skin. For a second Sara feared Robin had seen her with Matt. "If you ever take off again..."

"Is there a problem?"

Sara turned and saw Matt and Greg standing a few feet away. Distracted, Robin's grip relaxed, and Sara pulled her arm away, looking away, as the embarrassment settled in the pit of her stomach. Robin's eyes flickered over to the guys as they stood with theirs resting on Sara.

Instantly Robin's face took on its charming and innocent façade. "Oh, you know little sisters," she said in a sweet voice. "She has a bad habit of running off."

Matt stood there for a second, looking at Robin. Then his eyes went to Sara, "Sara, we're heading to the _Raging River_ to cool off, would you like to join us?"

Trying to hide her anxiety, Sara slowly looked up and met his eyes, which shone with concern. Before she could say anything, Robin took hold of her arm, digging her fingernails deep into her skin. "We'd love too," Robin said, smiling.

Matt nodded and the four of them started to walk along the path, Matt and Robin in the middle, Greg and Sara at the ends, Robin's death hold still on Sara's arm.

Robin pulled Sara close and whispered into her ear, "You fucking slut," and dug her fingernails in deeper.

While standing in line under the wooden shelter Robin did anything she could to keep Sara from being noticed. She chatted with the guys as they stood in a group, standing in front of Sara, and used any opportunity to show off her curves, especially to Matt, and whenever either of the guys asked Sara a question, Robin answered it for herself.

As their turn got closer, an opening appeared in the side of the wall. Sara looked over the railing at the view, using it to avoid Robin's eyes, for when they met hers, Sara could see her sister's anger.

Sara gazed at the blue-tinted water as it flowed beneath the building she was in and a round yellow raft came around a corner, floating over the water on a black inner tube. There were six high-backed seats in groups of two, each pair separated by an opening into the craft, and of the six people who sat in the chairs, two were soaking wet, the two on either side of them were damp, and the others seemed bone dry.

Just before they floated under Sara, she could make out the expressions on their faces, the drier ones were laughing at those who looked like drowned rats. She smiled to herself, but when she felt Robin's fingers poke her, her smile disappeared, and she wished Matt had never asked them on the ride. _'If Robin gets her hair wet...'_ Sara cut the thought off.

As the raft sat on the platform the operator used to catch it, raising it up out of the water, Greg got in first, sitting on one of the seats farthest away. Matt followed, and the operator held out his hand to let Robin use it to assist her to get in. She stood in the raft next to Matt as he leaned against the round silver bar bolted to the middle of the raft for passengers to hold onto.

As Sara stepped forward, the operator held out his hand to help her. Matt stepped away from the bar as she placed a foot down, and he took her other hand in his, helping her keep her balance. She looked up into his eyes and stopped herself from letting the smile that wanted to appear on her lips grow. From the corner of her eye, she could see Robin's face tighten in anger.

Before Sara could sit in the nearest seat, the operator spoke, "Would you mind two more?"

Sara looked up and saw a woman and her five or six-year-old son standing next to the operator.

Matt answered, "The more the merrier," and held out his hand for the boy, who didn't take it; instead he jumped into the raft.

"Brian," his mother scolded as the boy sat in an empty seat.

Sara sat down as both the operator and Matt helped the woman into the raft, and she sat down next to her son, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Robin's glare went from the woman back to Sara, and she started to make her way around the raft, aiming for the seat next to her sister, but Matt had beaten her. Robin had no other choice; she sat next to Greg, her eyes narrowing as she scowled at Sara.

When they were all buckled into their seats, Sara felt a jolt as the platform lowered into the water, then the liquid took them slowly from the building, picking up speed. Ahead she could see the water rise and fall with rapids, and as they hit the first wave, a little water splashed into the raft, getting the young boy and Greg's shoes wet. The boy let out a bout of laughter, and Sara smiled as she looked over at them. Greg met her eyes, giving her a tight smile.

She felt hers weaken, getting the feeling that his smile was not because of the water, but because he could feel the tension coming off Robin.

The raft spun, and Sara could only see where they had already been. There was a bounce, and she gasped as she felt a cold, wet splash hit her head and run down her back. At the same time, the woman let out a shriek and Matt gave a shout of shock.

The water and fake rocks began to dim, then darken. Blackness replaced the bright sunlight and muffled voices took over the sounds of running water and laughter.

A warm liquid filled her mouth, coating her tongue with a metallic flavor. Sara started to gag as it ran down her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing it down. As the fluid made its way into her stomach, it rumbled and rolled, begging for more. She had tasted it before but couldn't remember what it was.

"Margret, you are so dead." The man's voice sounded far away.

"Shut up, Vincent." The woman's was closer, as if it was next to her.

Sara's eyes opened wide as a burning pain radiated from her stomach, feeling as if her insides were boiling, the warmth making its way through her body. Sara's brain swam towards darkness, and the voices became more distant with each word.

"You've just made it worse," the man said. "Kill it now and I won't say anything."

Sara could feel herself moving through the air, weightless. Voices came again from the darkness. "I told you to shut up," the woman's voice whispered.

"Fine, it's your ass."

The inside of Sara's brain hummed and her chest and heart felt as if they had melted together. Feeling herself moving, she realized she was in a car, lying in the backseat. Memories trickled through her mind: her mother's funeral, her sister, Eric.

She heard a man's mumbled voice coming from obscurity. "Why didn't you kill it? You know how much trouble you're getting yourself into. I'm not going to be part of this."

"Look at her," said a woman's voice in a whisper.

"What? She's just another one, except she should be dead."

"Vincent, just think about it. Yes, she's new, and she came to the scent of my blood..."

"You took a vow. We can't let any more run around." His voice was angry.

"But how could she resist like that? You know how old blood affects them, it drives them crazy. She should've latched on like a leech, not letting go until the stake was clear through her heart. And what about this old man taking her son; do you think it could be him?"

"It's possible, but it doesn't matter."

There were a few seconds of silence, and then the woman spoke again. "I saw tears in her eyes."

"Now that's bullshit!" he shouted. "You know we can't cry."

"I know that, but I saw..."

"You didn't see anything."

' _I want to wake up now,'_ Sara's thoughts yelled as they swam with the swaying of the car. 'Eric,' her mind called out.

"It's waking up," the man's voice said.

Sara opened her eyes and looked towards the voices. The woman from the alley was staring at her from over the front seat, her white-blonde hair draping over the back. Next to her, Sara could only see the back of the man's head as he drove the car, his dark brown hair hanging just above his shoulders.

"You might as well finish it off," he said.

"No, I have to find out how she was able to resist, and about the old man."

Sara mumbled her son's name as she felt the darkness pulling her away. The car's humming filled her ears as her mind found a safe place to sleep and wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

## Chapter 2

Sara could feel the anger seep through her body as she watched her sister stand in the dining room, greeting each person who walked in the front door. Robin stood there all dressed in black from head to toe, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. Sara knew Robin purposely used cheap makeup so it would run and smear around her eyes, just to add to her show.

Turning back to the sink, she rinsed the pan out; the pieces of noodles ran in the current of water and down the drain.

"Sara."

She turned towards the voice. Her mom's best friend walked into the kitchen and stood next to the table, her grey hair tucked under a black hat. Standing out from her light brown face were her red, tired eyes.

"Mary," Sara whispered and went into the old woman's plump, short arms. She felt them go around her waist, the tips of the old woman's fingers not quite reaching her spine.

"How are you doing, child?" Mary asked into Sara's shoulder. With that question, Sara's body shivered. "Now, now," the old woman whispered.

Sara pulled herself away, afraid she would lose control of her emotions. "What about you? You grew up with Mom."

Mary shook her head, "With your mother gone... It's going to be hard." She shrugged her shoulders. "But your sister is sure sucking up the attention. She's acting like her world just ended, just like she did at your father's funeral and Matt's."

"She's good at that." New tears formed in Sara's eyes. "She acted like it was her husband who died."

Mary took Sara's hand and patted it, "She just wants the attention, but everyone knows you were the one who put her life on hold for the last five months to take care of your mother. You're the one who moved from Des Moines to be here. That shows how much you really love your mom." She looked out into the living room. "You need to get out there, I'll take care of the kitchen."

Sara gave the short woman another hug. Taking a deep breath, she went out into the dining room and took her place next to her sister as more people from the small town of Oak Creek came into the house. Wide eyes and expressions of surprise temporarily replaced their looks of sadness as Robin, almost a complete stranger, took them into a hug.

"Thank you for coming," she said to them in a sad voice, which was all she could say to them; she didn't know their names, but they didn't need Sara to grab them; they seized her, squeezing her tight. Sara was able to greet each one by name as they gave her their condolences. They were her mom's friends and Sara had come to know each one over the last five months.

The afternoon came and went, as did the visitors, who stopped to give Sara one more hug. As the sun disappeared, Sara went into the pale yellow kitchen to clean up, hearing the water from the shower above going down the drain, along with Robin's singing.

Dishes were piled next to the sink and more sat on the table, and from the cupboard, Sara took out a stack of plastic bowls and the roll of foil, transferring the donated food.

When the kitchen counters were cleared of all but dirty dishes, she called to her sister, "Are you going to help me clean up?"

"I'm going through Mom's stuff," Robin's voice yelled back from upstairs.

"God damn it, Robin!" Sara yelled, throwing the rag into the sink, and walked into the dining room, "We're supposed to do that together."

"Don't you say His name in vain, you evil little girl!" Heavy footsteps thumped overhead. "I don't know why Mom let you stay in her house," Robin yelled as she came down the stairs that ran along the dining room wall, her wet blonde hair swaying behind her in a ponytail. She stopped in the middle of the staircase, "You're the spawn of Satan," Robin said, waving a finger at Sara. "I've seen your room."

"You have no right to be in there!"

"I can go anywhere in Mom's house I want to. You're the one who has no right to be here. Practicing the devil's work under her roof. Did Mom know?" She put her hand on her skinny hip, shifting her weight.

"Mom knew everything. She even watched me and Eric do a ritual."

"You liar. Mom was a Christian, a good Christian, even as she was dying, she was trying to get you to change your evil ways. She'd never allow witchcraft done in her house." Robin took a step down, "You waited until the cancer weakened her, then you cursed her, didn't you?"

"Fuck you," Sara whispered, meeting her sister's blue eyes.

"I wonder what child services would say about your witchcraft." Robin tapped her finger to her chin. "I bet there would be an investigation."

"You wouldn't dare," Sara yelled, standing straight.

"Try me," Robin said as she stared at her sister, her blue eyes not blinking. She went down another step. "Stay out of my way. I'll be going through mom's stuff, keeping what I want." She started back up the steps. "Oh," turning, she faced Sara with a smirk on her face, "Greg and I talked about it on the way here. We're going to sell the house."

"You can't. Eric and I live here. You were sitting in the living room when Mom said I can have the house since you didn't want it."

"Well," Robin replied as she looked up at the ceiling, then back at Sara, "I'll think about making some kind of a rental agreement with you, but only if you renounce your evil ways and give yourself to Jesus." She turned, flipped her hair and walked back up the steps.

Sara's cheeks burned; curses and hexes flooded her mind. _'No,'_ she told herself, _'I'm not evil like her.'_

Bypassing the dishes in the kitchen, she walked outside to the backyard and took in the summer's air. A small sliver of the moon hung above the horizon. Kicking off her shoes, she walked barefoot onto the cool, damp grass. Looking up to the dark night sky, she stared at the moon, and as she gazed at it, she held up her arms and started to take slow, deep breaths, feeling the grass under her feet and the damp cool air going into her lungs.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the tall trees surrounding the lawn swaying in the breeze, and she could hear the rope of the tire swing hanging from the tallest oak, creek as it moved in time with the tree's branch.

She stood there until her heartbeat slowed and most of her anger left, then she said, "Oh Mother above, as you turn the wheel, the coming new moon is the time of endings and beginnings. I know my mother is now in the Summerland with you, but I will still miss her until it is my turn to join. During this time of sorrow and as I prepare for my own new beginning without my mom, please give me the strength and courage to deal with those who are closed-minded, who only think of themselves."

She imagined the ground beneath her feet growing warm and the grass wrapping itself around her ankles. Closing her eyes, she pictured the grass siphoning away the stress and the rest of her bad feelings, replacing them with peaceful energy and strength.

She heard a car in the distance, and her eyes flickered towards the noise. A pair of headlights glared back at her when the car turned off the main road and onto the lane. Looking back up to the sky, she pulled herself from the spiritual embrace. "Mother, I thank you for your precious gift. May I continue to learn and grow with your love." Lowering her head, she said, "Blessed Be." Raising it again, she gave the moon's sliver a thanking smile and walked back to the house, slipping her shoes on as she went.

Sara went inside and stood by the sink, turning on the hot water, rinsing out a pan as the front door opened. A girl's voice came to her from the living room, asking if horses could really talk. Sara swallowed the chuckle that tickled the back of her throat.

"Anna, don't be stupid, horses can't talk," said Tammy, Anna's older sister.

"Tammy!" a man growled, "that's not how you are to talk to people."

"But daddy..."

"Upstairs and get ready for bed."

Sara heard Tammy's footsteps slowly go up the steps, two sets followed behind her, one soft and the other heavy.

"Mom?" a teenage boy's voice called from the living room as the footfalls made their way across the ceiling.

"In the kitchen," she called, turning from the sink. A second later, her son walked through the doorway. Every time she looked at him, she thought he looked more and more like his father. His brown hair buzzed short, exposing the small scar usually hidden under his curly hair. She blinked quickly as the memory of him crashing his tricycle into the back of her dad's tractor, and all of the blood coating the side of his face, flashed through her mind.

"How was the movie?"

"Bad. It was girly," he said with a loud moan.

"Eric, there had to be some fighting."

"It was lame."

"Did your cousins like it?"

"Duh, they're girls."

Her heart jumped because he sounded so much like his father. "What did I tell you about that?"

"Sorry, mom."

"For your 'duh', you can load the dishwasher."

"I was going to hang out with Trevor and the guys," he whined. "They're picking me up."

"Just because you turned sixteen doesn't give you your freedom." She paused and added, "But for going to the movie with your cousins, I'll let you. But I want you back by eleven."

"Ok." He turned and started to fill the washer.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Turning, she left her son in the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

In her bedroom she looked around, ignoring the pink-flowered wallpaper of her childhood, trying to see if Robin had taken anything. Sara could see books moved from their shelves and left on the floor or desk, and a few of the drawers had been left ajar. She clenched her fists when she saw her altar had been rearranged.

Starting with there, which was in the middle of the room, Sara took each item off and set it on her desk, then rubbed the wood surface down with an oil and water blend while saying a prayer: "Negativity is gone, positivity grows. Harmful thoughts run away, pure love keeps you at bay..." She picked up each item from the desk and repeated the process, putting them back in their proper places.

Then she began to cleanse the entire room. Working with the altar items, she lit candles and incense and then went around the room in a clockwise spiral starting at the altar, sprinkling salt and flicking the liquid around the room and on any object Robin could have touched, all while chanting her prayer. As she did this, she imagined her sister's image, her bad thoughts, and feelings leave the room. When her last circle ended at the bedroom door, she said, "This room is cleansed of all negativity, and they will stay away!" and she closed the door.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, the day caught up with her. While the alarm clock sitting on the desk said it was only nine, her body tried to tell her it was later. Even with her body protesting, she got up so she could finish the dishes.

After emptying the dishwasher, Sara went back to her room and sat at her desk with the guest book open next to the computer. She opened a card-making program and began to browse through the 'thank you' section. Looking carefully at each design, she wondered if her mother would have liked it, but as the soft sounds of the harp music played on the radio next to her bed, sleep tug at Sara's brain.

"Aunt Sara! Aunt Sara!" a young girl's voice screamed at her bedroom door.

A man's whisper followed, "I told you to knock."

A small tap echoed on the wooden door.

Sara smiled. "Yes?"

"It's me, Tammy. Anna and I wanted to say good night."

"Come in."

The door opened and two blonde girls entered, Tammy pulling her younger sister behind her. Even though they were five years apart, they looked as if they were twins, and they looked just like their mom with their blonde hair and blue eyes. Sara could see Greg's shadow floating against the wall across from her open door.

"Good night, Aunt Sara," Tammy said in her sweetest ten-year-old voice, her blue eyes studying Sara. "May Jesus watch over you while you sleep."

"Why thank you, Tammy, and may He watch over you and your family." Sara knew what to say to her sister's children, so not to piss Robin off. That was one advantage of the Wiccan religion; 'He' could mean any deity to her, including Jesus.

"Have you said your prayers yet?" Tammy asked, looking around Sara's bedroom, her eyes falling on the pentagram wind chime hanging from the ceiling, it slowly dancing in the breeze coming in from the open window.

"Not yet."

Taking her eyes from the chime, she looked at Sara and, in a tone sounding a lot like Robin, she said, "My mom says you don't pray."

"I pray in a different way than you and your family."

"But isn't..."

"Tammy, have you brushed your teeth yet?" Greg's voice interrupted from the hallway.

"No, daddy."

"Then you better."

"Ok. Night Aunt Sara," she said again.

"Night, Tammy."

Sara looked over at the five-year-old girl who was gazing at the smoky white crystal ball sitting on the end table, the last gift Matt had given her. "Night, Anna," she said.

The little girl turned and smiled, drool dripping from her mouth and the finger that was stuck in it. She gurgled, "Good night."

Tammy pulled her sister by her hand from the room. After they disappeared, Greg stuck his head around the doorframe. "Sorry if they woke you."

"No, I was awake. I was just trying to decide on a card design."

"Um, I am sorry about your mom."

"Thanks, Greg."

He shifted and stood in the doorway, his once sandy colored hair now had more grey than any other color, and he looked tired. Sara felt her heart break as she looked at him, knowing her sister was responsible. She was sucking the life out of him.

"I'm really sorry about Robin wanting to sell the house. I tried to talk her out of it," he said softly.

"It's not your fault. That's just how she is."

"If you need anything..."

"I would, Greg, but I don't want you to get into trouble."

He took a breath as if he were going to say more, but instead he nodded, grabbed the doorknob, pulling the door closed. Sara could hear his footsteps walking slowly down the hallway. Memories of the happier times when Matt was still alive gave a tug, but she pushed them away.

She stared at the door for a few seconds more, expecting her sister to come barging in, yelling. Thankfully, she didn't. Sara turned back to the computer screen and found a design decorated with her mom's favorite flowers, purple lilacs.

The next morning, as the birds sang from the trees, Sara watched Robin and her family drive away in the white Hummer, the trailer behind it loaded with cardboard boxes and their mom's antique coffee tables, dressers, and cabinets. The dirt from the driveway ballooned in a light brown cloud behind them, as if hiding their escape. After today, Sara hoped not to see her sister for a long time, and now that she was out of the house, Sara had an hour before the appointment with her mom's lawyer to see what else Robin had taken.

She looked around the small dining room; the white matching table and chairs were still there, they weren't antiques. As she pushed one of the chairs under the table, the wheels gave a light roar as it rolled over the wooden floor. The north wall was now empty except for the dust bunnies on the floor, uncovered when Robin ordered Greg and Eric to load the cabinet on the trailer.

Mom's papers were stacked in a jumbled pile on the windowsill, left for Sara to go through. The whiter squares on the walls showed where Robin's pictures once hung. Eric's last school picture and Sara's wedding photo were the only two left.

In the living room, which was just past the stairway, everything looked normal, minus the coffee table that had belonged to mom's grandma and Dad's old rocker, which were both gone. But Mom's coffee-stained recliner was still there, along with the 70s orange couch and the old square television.

Sara's heart fell when she went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet doors and drawers, the china and silver were both gone. Robin didn't tell her she was taking them, but they were something valuable, both in memories and price, those were the only items Robin seemed to want.

Upstairs she went into her mother's bedroom. The room was empty except for the mattress and the boxes that sat on the floor, pieces of clothes hung over the edges. Robin had left them for Sara to deal with as well. One of the smaller boxes had Sara's name on in. Kneeling down, she opened the flap. and inside were loose photos. She pushed them around discovering they were her school pictures, and she glanced over to where her mother's end table used to sit. _'They should've been in the album,'_ she thought.

Picking a photo up, she looked at it. It was of her and Robin when they were teenagers. Dropping it, she grabbed another. Tears sprang to her eyes; it was of her and her dad, she knew it was in an album, she'd helped her mom tape it to the page last month.

Digging through, she pulled more out. They were all of her, Matt, and or Eric, and a few had rips in the paper. Robin had deliberately taken each one out of the albums. Glancing around, she could see her mom's jewelry box was gone, along with her Bible and the photo albums.

She went into the rooms where Robin and her family stayed, Eric's looked fine, (the girls stayed in there while he slept on the couch), but Robin's room, the one she had slept in since she was a child, was a mess. The closet doors stood open, as did the dresser drawers, the bed was unmade, blankets tossed on the floor, and ripped photos dotted the grey carpet.

Sara drove away from the house, the blue Honda's little engine screaming its high-pitched shrill that made it sound as if it were in pain. With tears in her eyes and hatred boiling in her blood, she drove towards town. Eric's words that he yelled as she went to the car still echoed in her ears: "Don't forget about the Laws of Three!"

Pulling up in front of the lawyer's office, she saw the Hummer parked in the alley, the trailer blocking the sidewalk. Trying to bury her anger, she went into the old building.

The young secretary gave her a look of surprise. "Sara! Your sister said you weren't coming."

"What?" she growled.

"Um, they started an hour ago. They've already read your mother's will."

"That bitch. Which room?" she asked the secretary, whose eyes went wide, and she pointed with a shaking finger to the closest door.

Sara opened the door wide and the lawyer, Mr. Casey, looked up from his desk, a pen hovering above a piece of paper he had just signed.

"Sara," Robin gasped.

"You bitch. You took everything Mother loved and left me scraps."

"How dare you say such things in front of my children."

"Greg had better take them out because you're going to get what you deserve!" She looked over at her sister's husband. A startled look spread over his face, and he grabbed the hands of his wide-eyed daughters, dragging them from the room.

When the door closed Sara yelled, "You greedy whore, she hasn't even been in the ground for twenty-four hours. Have you sold everything yet, or are you waiting for the highest bidder?"

"Sara," Mr. Casey said, interrupting, "I'm sorry. Robin said you'd left town. I've already read the will." He ran a hand over his short, greasy, grey hair. "She signed the papers. I'm sorry, but she's..."

"I know what she is." Turning back to her sister, she shouted. "You know Mom wanted to change her will."

Robin jumped up from her chair. "I don't remember Mom wanting to change anything. I left you with what I thought you deserved."

"How dare you? You were sitting in Dad's chair when Mom told you she wanted me and Eric to have the house."

"How dare I? Mom said no such thing to me." She paused then added, "I was here to sign the papers, you were not."

"That's because you lied."

"I would never lie. The ones who worship the devil are the liars. But now I'm wondering if you're responsible for Mom's death!"

Sara felt as if she'd been smacked. "Robin, you know that isn't true. If Mom and Dad knew what you were doing..."

"Did one of your spells go wrong? Maybe that's why Daddy died too, and Matt." She took a step towards Sara. "Since I was here to sign the papers, the house is mine to do with as I see fit, so I'm selling it. There's already an offer, and I'm taking it. You'll get half, as the will states, and that's it."

"Robin, if you do this..."

"I know, you'll cast a spell against me."

"No, I'm not malicious like you. I'm not the jealous one."

Robin let out a nervous laugh. "Me, jealous of you? That's funny."

"Dad always spent time with me, and you hated it, but you were too scared of getting dirty to hang out at the pond with him. And you wanted Matt for yourself, but he picked me over you. Remember all of those nasty tricks you pulled on me after, cutting my hair, the marker while I was sleeping. You hated it so much when Matt wanted your younger sister, so you took his best friend just so you could keep tabs on him."

"Think whatever you want, but I'm not the one who got pregnant on purpose to trap him. He was going to leave you, and that's why he's dead. You ruined six years of his life, and he was going to start over. You found out and killed him, and poor Daddy was in the wrong place."

"That's not true."

"Oh, I think it is, he was always meeting with Greg."

"That's because we were going to renew our vows, you stupid bitch! Greg was helping us put everything together. We were going to surprise Mom and Dad."

"You're lying..."

"Matt and I were going to renew our vows because we were trying for a baby."

Robin glared at her, "You're lying," she hissed, "Greg would never go behind my back! Matt was going to leave you."

"Greg did a lot of things with Matt behind your back, and you hated it. Maybe you had Matt killed because Greg was hanging around him too much. Now that Matt's dead, you've tightened your noose around Greg's neck. He's miserable, and you're doing the same thing to your children."

"I want you and all of your devil things out of the house by the end of the week," Robin yelled, pointing her finger at Sara's chest. "I will be there Monday to clean up, and if you're not out, I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

She turned away but stopped, whipping around, her hair swinging around her head. "And I will be charging you for the time you are still in the house, starting today. And any mess of yours I have to clean up, I'll take out of your half." She put her hands on her hips and the top corner of her lip turned up, "You got a lot of money from Matt's life insurance, so you can afford a penthouse in Hell."

"Fine! You deposit the money in my account, and when it's there, I will never contact you again. We are no longer sisters."

"I've never thought of you as mine anyway. My real sister wouldn't practice witchcraft, she'd be a Christian."

"Robin, take a good look at yourself. You are not a Christian." Sara turned, and as she left the room she said, "And I'm not the one going to Hell." She didn't look back as the door closed behind her.

"Sara!" Greg's voice followed her outside. She turned and could see fear all over his face. "I'll make sure you get a fair share, I promise."

"Greg, I don't care about the money. You were Matt's best friend, my friend, you need to get away from her."

"I promised Matt I would look out for you! You can't leave things like this. You and Robin just lost your mother; you only have each other."

"Greg, I don't want you to look out for me," she said as she got into her car. "You need to worry about yourself and your daughters. Promise me you'll save yourself and your children from her before she sucks the life out of you. That's how you can help me, by saving your children and yourself."

"Sara, wait," Greg yelled as she backed out into the street.

## Chapter 3

Sara felt weightless, floating in darkness as her conscious mind began to absorb the feelings around her: the softness beneath her, like lying on cotton balls, her body warm under a heavy silk blanket that caressed her skin, the smell of wood smoke that stung her nose, made her eyes slowly open, pulling her awake.

The orange light from a fire flickering in a fireplace embedded in a grey wall caught her eye and she watched for a few seconds as the flames fluttered between the two chairs sitting in front of the fire. Slowly moving her eyes, she looked around. Next to the fire was a closed door, on the fire's other side, a plain grey wall, another doorframe just visible from the corner of her eye. Her eyes drifted back to the fire to watch the orange flames dance around the pieces of wood, attempting to entranced her back to sleep.

' _I don't have a fireplace,'_ she thought.

Her senses went into overdrive, and she gasped, her eyes opening wide. This wasn't her bedroom, the room smelled dry and dusty, not of fresh summer air and lavender incense.

She jumped, flinching away when the wood in the fireplace shifted with a dull thud, sending orange sparks into the air. A small movement to her right caught her eye, and she turned towards it, feeling her hair sliding over the soft pillowcase, and her eyes locked on the shape of a person sitting in a stuffed chair a few feet from her. They shifted and the face of a woman appeared, highlighted in orange by the light of the fire. Sara looked at the woman's eyes as the fire's flames glimmered around in them as if they were a mirror.

Her eyes quickly moved towards a thump of something hitting wood. The man sat on a wooden chair, the front legs off the floor as he sat, tipped back against the wall, in one of his hands, Sara could see the gleaming silver of a knife, and in the other, a wooden stake, the end of it narrowed into a point, made thinner and sharper with each of the knife's stroke.

Fear grew in her chest as she remembered, her muscles tightened, and she sat up, looking back at the woman, who was already on her feet, walking towards her.

"No!" Sara cried in a dry whisper, "don't kill me. I just want my son."

She heard a bump from where the man was sitting, followed by a scraping noise against the floor.

When the woman leaned towards Sara, Sara panicked, rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud, but her body was too weak to support her weight, and she crawled into a corner, her legs tangling in the white nightgown that someone had dressed her in. Drawing her legs to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. "Please," she cried, pushing the side of her face against the wall.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the woman said softly as she walked around the bed, slowly kneeling down in front of Sara, holding her hands out.

"What have you done to me?" Sara cried.

"You're going to be fine, it will take a day or so for you to heal."

"Why did you try to kill me? I haven't told anyone. I just want Eric back."

"You're weak. Let me feed you, then I'll explain everything."

Sara watched from the corner of her eye as the woman bit into her own flesh and held her bleeding arm out towards her, drops of red falling to the floor. Sara tried to push herself farther into the corner, trying to avoid the blood.

"You must feed," the woman said, grabbing Sara's shoulder with her other hand, pulling her away from the wall, while pushing her bloody arm into Sara's face.

Sara could smell the blood and could feel it smearing across her lips as she fought to turn away. "Get the fuck away from me!" she shouted and shoved the woman with all of her strength.

The woman fell backward but instantly regained her balance, then the man appeared next to the woman, pointing the sharpened wooden stake at Sara. She pulled back in fear when his silver eyes locked on hers.

"I told you so. That thing will suck you dry," he said taking a step towards Sara, ready to shove the tip of the stake in her chest.

"Vincent! Stop." The woman said, grabbing his arm, pulling him back. "She refused."

"Bullshit. I can see your blood all over her face."

"She pushed me away."

Sara could taste the woman's blood in her mouth. She spit it out, aiming at the couple who stood in front of her. "Fuck you both. I want my son back!"

"That's impossible," whispered the man as he looked from Sara to the spit on the floor.

"I know it is, but..." She looked at Sara. "We're not going to hurt you," the woman said as she knelt down.

"Go to Hell. You tried to stake me and now poison me."

"I was trying to feed you."

"I'm not a fucking vampire, you stupid bitch."

The man's laugh filled the room, causing Sara to cringe. "Not a vampire, oh my God!" he shouted.

"Vincent, shut up," the woman said, then met Sara's eyes. "What's your name?" she asked softly. "I'm Margret, and the idiot there is Vincent."

Sara looked at them both before she spoke. "Sara," she said quietly.

"It's nice to meet you," Margret said.

Sara flinched as the woman held out her hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Margret whispered, "Please, get off the floor, you're not fully healed yet."

"What do you want with me? Where's Eric?"

"Let's get you back on the bed."

Sara slowly pulled herself to her feet, her back against the wall, using it to brace herself against the spinning room, which began to dim as she stood except for the pinpoints of stars that swam in her eyes. A falling sensation overcame her, but before she met the hard wooden floor, she felt arms catch her. When the dizziness passed and the light came back, Margret was half holding, half carrying Sara to the bed.

"Aren't you hungry?" Margret asked when Sara was lying down.

Sara pulled herself up to a sitting position, away from Margret. "A little. Can I have some water?"

A new wave of laughter left Vincent. "Water?" She's fucking with you."

"Just get some," Margret said.

"Just kill it already," he said, still laughing.

Sara watched him open the door next to the corner she was just in, and a few seconds later he was back, a glass in his hand, which he gave to Margret, but his eyes stayed on Sara.

Margret took it from him and held it towards Sara. She took it and drank. The water was warm, but it took away the dryness in her throat and the taste of blood. Vincent sat down in the chair next to the bed, and in his hand was the wooden stake, which he twirled around his fingers like a drummer would do with a stick, keeping his eyes on Sara.

Margret looked at him and then back at Sara, "Just ignore him," she said, taking the glass from Sara's hand. "Why don't you tell me what you remember."

Sara looked at her, "I remember you were going to kill me in the alley, and he was telling you to." She looked over at Vincent, his two bright silver eyes stared back at her.

"Before that," Margret said. "What do you remember before you met us."

Sara looked into Margret's silver eyes, "I remember... walking, trying to find my son."

"How long have you been looking for him?"

"I don't know." Panic filled Sara's voice, "I don't even know what day this is."

"It's Thursday, the twenty-ninth," Vincent said.

Sara's eyes blurred, "It can't be."

"Why's that?" Margret whispered.

"It's been two weeks!" Sara cried. The light from the fire disappeared, but the sounds of it amplified in her ears before the room went silent.

## Chapter 4

Sara opened her eyes. Bright sunlight peeked through the slit in between the curtains, casting a sliver of light into the room. She sat up when she realized it wasn't a dream and she was still in the strange room. Margret was sitting in the chair next to the bed, her silver eyes watching her.

"How do you feel?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Hungry," Sara answered, then cringed as Margret brought her arm up to her lips. "Not that hungry," Sara said, recoiling.

Margret stopped and looked at her. "Then for what?"

"Pancakes, cheeseburger, food."

Puzzlement fell over Margret's face. "I'll have Vincent get you something," she said slowly.

The sound of something hitting the wall made Sara jump; she didn't know Vincent was in the room.

"Fuck! You're getting yourself deeper in shit. Just kill it." He stood and walked towards the fireplace, pulling the stake from the plaster next to the mantel.

"Vincent, shut up. Something isn't right." Margret stood and faced him. "And you're fixing that hole."

Vincent turned and raced towards the bed, straddling Sara in a single leap, pinning her to the bed. She struggled under his weight, but couldn't move.

He grabbed a handful of her hair, using it to pull her head from the pillow. "You can smell it all over her," he said, pressing the stake into her chest. "She's a fucking vampire!" He shouted over Sara's scream as the stake pierced her skin.

"Vincent!" Margret yelled, pulling him off Sara and onto the floor. "Knock it off."

Sara rolled off the bed, away from pair, back to corner, but still on her feet, trying to search for an escape, while watching them.

Vincent bounced up from the floor, grabbing Margret's arm. "You're going to get us both killed, either by her or by the Sirelords," he yelled, struggling to keep his hold on Margret.

She stopped moving and met his gaze. "Just give me today. If you don't agree that there's something different about her..."

"I can already tell that it is different, or at least pretending to be, but that's no excuse. We're here to kill all that are created."

"Vincent, please. I have to know what happened to her. It may lead us to him."

"Fine, tonight!" he growled.

"Thank you," Margret said with a breath, "but since I can't trust you, will you get some food?"

He shook his head and started towards the door next to the fireplace. Stopping with his hand on the knob, he turned back to Margret, "You're right about that," he said, "don't trust me. I'll be the one keeping my vow." He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Sara stood in the corner trembling, her mind racing as she stared at the door. _'He's insane,'_ her mind yelled, _'he wants to kill me because he thinks I'm a vampire.'_ Her eyes jerked suddenly when Margret moved and they followed the woman as she slowly walked to the large dresser a few feet from the bed.

"Sara, it's ok, Vincent will calm down, and he'll get you some food," she said as she opened a drawer, pulling some clothes out.

"He's crazy! He tried to kill me because he thinks I'm a vampire."

"We have a lot to talk about," Margret said, slowly walking towards her, "but let's get you cleaned up first." Margret opened the door Sara stood by, holding out her hand. A few seconds went by and neither of the women made a move.

"Come on," Margret said. "Wouldn't a hot bath feel good?"

Sara looked past Margret into the large bathroom. There was a small window in the far wall that only allowed a single shaft of natural light into the room, but it was enough to show Sara that the walls were painted baby blue and giant white claw-footed bathtub sat in a corner against the wall.

Margret gently took Sara's hand leading her inside, closing the door behind them. Putting the clothes on a small table near the toilet, she led Sara towards the tub. There the woman let go of Sara and turned on the water, plugging the drain. Sara stood still, watching the water coming out of the faucet. It splashed over the bottom, the steam lifting into the air.

Margret opened a cabinet and pulled out a large white towel. "You can soak for a while, and then you can rinse off with the shower. I'll be in the other room when you're done," she said as she added the towel to the pile of clothes.

Sara stood still as Margret left, not even her eyes blinking at the click of the door when it closed, they were watching the water plummet from the faucet, thunder to her ears. Images and thoughts of the last few hours flashed through her mind as her body stood frozen.

The water rose, creeping to the tub's lip. Sara began to shiver as the moist, heavy, hot air swelled around her. She glanced around the room, her eyes looking sadly at the small window. It was the only other way out, but it was too high and too small to allow an escape. The sound of the water called to her sore muscles. _'Maybe a hot bath would help wake me up from this nightmare.'_

Taking the two steps to the tub, she turned the hot water off and the cold on, but as she took off the blood-stained nightgown, the old smell of body odor drifted from her bare skin, making her stomach twinge and throat close. Slowly lowering herself into the water, she felt the warmth chasing the cold in her body away. Looking down at her chest to where the stake had entered her skin, there wasn't a hole between her breasts, instead there was a star-shaped pattern of scarred skin; she must have imagined the pain.

Closing her eyes, she slid under the surface of the water until she could no longer hold her breath. Breaking to the surface, her eyes looked at the white ceiling, wishing she would wake up.

Sara watched the rest of the grey water drain away as she stood under the shower, the dingy soap bubbles in her hair raced down her skin. Adjusting the water temperature again, she realized she was just about out of hot water.

Hurriedly she finished rinsing the last of the soap from her body. As the water turned from lukewarm to cold, she turned it off, wrapped the towel around her body, and stepped out of the tub. With her fingers pressed against the front of the towel, the scar itching at her skin, she looked back at the tub, wishing she could take another shower, not believing she was that dirty.

Walking to the pile of clothes on the table, she began to dress. "No, Vincent is crazy," she said to herself as she pulled a large t-shirt roughly over her head. Slipping on the grey sweatpants she whispered, "I'm not a vampire."

Using the towel to wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror, her mind went on with its thoughts. _'He has to be. No one in their right mind believes vampires exist.'_

Her own face looked back from the mirror as her finger softly caressed her cheek. It looked the same except maybe a little thinner and paler, but it was the same face she'd watched grow older. She never thought of herself as beautiful, but Matt did, and he loved her freckles. They were still there, over her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. Maybe a little lighter in color, but they were there.

Her eyes looked at each section of her face, chin, cheekbones, and forehead. Finally, leaning closer to the mirror, she looked into her own eyes, their dark brown color stared back at her. A gasp left her throat, and she pulled back from the mirror. Small rivers of silver that looked like lightning strikes cut their way through the brown.

' _No, it's just a trick of the light,'_ her mind yelled. Grabbing a brush from the counter, she pulled it forcefully through her brown hair. 'Not silver, brown!'

She glanced up in the mirror again and brown eyes with rivers of silver stared back at her. Her heart pounded against her chest, and the feeling of needles poking at her skin ran over her. Turning away from the mirror, she stumbled towards the door, the edges of her vision dimming.

The smell of pancakes and syrup drifted into her nose when she walked into the bedroom and another wave of dizziness swept over her as her stomach rolled in hunger, making her forget about her eyes.

Vincent and Margret were standing next to the window talking, a small round table stood between them and her, and behind them, the curtains were open, letting in the sun's warm rays through the large triangle. They both looked at her as if they were waiting for an attack. "Vincent brought you some pancakes," Margret said slowly.

"The smell is making her sick," mumbled Vincent.

"I'm fine, I just realize how hungry I was until I smelled it."

"Come and sit down," Margret said, touching a wooden chair.

Sara walked towards them, watching Vincent as he moved away from the table, circling around behind her. Margret pulled the chair away from the table; its legs scraping against the floor. Sitting down, Sara's eyes darted from Margret to Vincent. After saying a small prayer thanking the Goddess for the food, she took a bite.

It sent her taste buds into overdrive, and her stomach twisted around inside her, eager for her to swallow. As she did, she noticed Margret and Vincent were both watching her. She took another bite, watching them as they watched her, Vincent moving closer to Margret.

When she was halfway through, Margret broke the silence. "How can you do that?" her voice sounded as if she was fighting the urge to puke.

"Do what?" Sara replied after swallowing.

Margret and Vincent watched as Sara took a drink of orange juice, but their eyes dropped to the floor as Sara took another bite, both with the same look of revulsion on their faces.

"You're starting to creep me out," Sara said. "Why are you watching me?"

"It's just that you're able to eat," Margret said, taking a quick glimpse up from the floor. "We only see humans eat food."

Sara dropped her fork, "I am human."

Margret and Vincent stared at her, both of their expressions were of disbelief. After a moment Margret spoke, sitting in the chair across from her. "Sara, you need to tell me the last thing you remember before you met us."

Sara looked from Margret then to Vincent, who leaned back against the wall behind Margret. The last few bites sat on the plate in front of Sara, the look in Margret's silver eyes took her desire for food away.

Sara closed her eyes, trying to remember. Slowly it came back: "I was at my mother's house, getting ready to leave for Des Moines," she said as tears began to form. "She had just died. Eric and I had just finished packing. I was upstairs making sure I hadn't left anything important behind because I didn't want Robin, my sister, to have anything of mine. After our mom died, she lied to me and kicked my son and me out of the house."

Vincent asked in a whisper, "Are those real?"

"Shh! Sara, what happened while you were upstairs?" Margret asked quietly.

Sara opened her eyes as she felt something soft touch her face. Margret was next to her; one of her fingers had wiped a tear from Sara's cheek.

"The doorbell rang. Eric was downstairs, and I heard him talking to someone. When I came down I saw Mr. Casey, my mother's lawyer, standing in the living room with three other men."

Sara began to breathe faster, closing her eyes. "I heard one of the men, an old man, say something about Eric, that he was perfect, and he asked Mr. Casey if he was positive that Eric wouldn't be missed. Mr. Casey told him about my sister and our fight we had in his office."

Sara gripped the edge of the table, her words spilling out faster. "Another man grabbed Eric. I screamed and went after him. One of the men grabbed me before I got to Eric. Mr. Casey looked worried as I tried to get the man to let go of me. He asked the old man what he wanted done with me. I could feel the old man's eyes go over every inch of my body and he said that I wouldn't make a good soldier, but he'd put me to good use.

"I tried to fight, as did Eric, but the men were strong. They carried us kicking and screaming out of the house. We were put in a limo. Eric was held by one of the men, and I was put next to the old man. He was hanging onto my wrist. I tried to fight, to get away, but his grip was too powerful." Sara wrinkled her nose. "He stunk, like there was something dead in his pockets.

"From the limo, he told Mr. Casey and the other man to ditch my car somewhere where it wouldn't be found and to meet him at the airport. When the limo started to move, all the old man did was stare at Eric," Sara said in horror. "His eyes wouldn't leave my son's face. And then he said, 'Yes, you will be perfect. Your body is in great shape, and you're handsome and strong, both mentally and physically. Everything I need in a soldier.'

"When he leaned forward and tried to touch my kid, I attacked, punching him, but for an old man, he was strong, and I could feel his bones through his clothes and skin when he held me against his body. And then he said, 'You're not going to need your mother anymore. I'll be your father from now on.'"

Sara's eyes opened wide, full of fear; her hand went to her throat. "I felt pain in my neck. I screamed. There was a lot of noise, like struggling. I know I was fighting, and I could feel someone, Eric, trying to pull me away from the man. I began to feel weak, like all of my energy was drained. I could barely move."

She took a breath. "I heard Eric calling to me and I could tell he was crying. That was enough to make me struggle, but the only thing I could do was bite. The old man had his arms wrapped around me. His skin was so soft and thin and I felt my teeth go right through it. His blood tasted horrible, like rotten meat. But he didn't mind, he squeezed me tighter, moaning as if he enjoyed it.

"It felt as if I was drugged, everything moving in slow motion and I was blacking out." Sara looked out the window at the blue sky, and her voice went soft. "I felt myself falling, landing hard and rolling. I heard Eric's screaming getting fainter and when I opened my eyes, I saw the car driving away. I tried to go after it, but I could only raise my arm; I couldn't even scream."

The table was wet beneath Sara, her tears still not stopping. "I remember smelling grass and dirt and feeling wet and I heard heavy footsteps and someone said that they couldn't find the body, then something about the river." Sara was quiet for a few seconds, her body shaking from her tears. "That's all I remember!" she cried. "That's when you tried to kill me!"

"Sara, you were going to Des Moines? Isn't that in Iowa?" Margret asked after a few seconds.

"Yes,"

"And you don't remember how you got here?

"Here, where's here?" her eyes looking pleadingly up at Margret.

Margret took her hand, "We're fifty miles east of Syracuse, New York."

"What? How?"

"I can only guess you walked. We can go..."

Vincent interrupted, "This old man, what did he look like?"

Sara closed her eyes, bringing the old man's image to her mind. "He was dressed in expensive clothes. I remember he pointed a cane at Eric; it was a dark gold color..."

"The man," Vincent yelled, "tell me about the man."

Sara's eyes snapped open; Vincent was right next to her. She jumped out of her chair, backing away from him.

"Vincent, sit down," Margret said, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. "Sara, please; this could be very important. Describe the man who took your son."

Sara looked at Vincent, his dark hair highlighted by his silver eyes, which were almost too blinding for her to look at. "He was really old. His skin was so transparent I could see his veins, it was like looking at a map." She swallowed. "I could see the veins pulse as the blood went through them." She gasped and backed away, staring in horror at Vincent, whose eyes were fixed on hers. "His eyes were a pale color, silver, like yours!"

"Is that all you can remember?" Margret asked, forcing herself to stay calm.

Sara closed her eyes and then snapped them open, afraid Vincent would attack. She focused on Margret. "There was a scar," she said slowly, "on his neck. Like someone tried to cut his head off, and it went up to his cheek."

A bang made her jump, and a yelp left her mouth.

"It's him!" Vincent yelled.

Sara looked at him as chunks of plaster fell around his feet from the new, fist-sized hole in the wall.

"My God, do you know what this means?"

"Yes, he's going to change Sara's son," Margret said.

"Change my son?" Sara cried, stepping towards the table.

"We could finally end this! We've been killing so many new vampires, there's no doubt he's creating another army. We have to find him before he goes after the Sires," Vincent said excitedly, his eyes blazing.

Sara hit the table, making everything on it jump, and she yelled, "What's going to happen to my son?"

Two pairs of silver eyes fell on her as if they'd forgotten she was there. She wanted to take a step back, but her anger and fear for her son wouldn't let her.

"Sara, there's a lot we need to explain to you," Margret began.

"We don't have to tell her anything," Vincent said, his excitement replaced with anger. He went after Sara, grabbing her arms. "Get the stake," he yelled at Margret, as he pushed Sara back towards the wall. "Either you end it now or I will."

Sara used all of her strength against him and was able to twist herself from his grip and push him away. She faced him, ready to fight; she could feel points of heat pricking over her skin. Everything around Vincent went fuzzy as her eyes focused on him.

"Stop it," Margret yelled. "Vincent, Sara could be useful, it's her son."

"No, she needs to die."

Fear went through Sara's body as she looked at him. His eyes were blazing silver, lips parted, and she could see both of his top canine teeth were sharpened to fine points. But when he took a step towards her, she was ready to fight back.

Sara felt a cold breeze race past her, blowing her hair into her face. A blur of color hit Vincent, throwing him against the wall. Margret stood where he once was, her white hair settling against her back.

"Enough! I will take full responsibility for Sara. If you touch her, I will kill you."

"The Sirelords," Vincent growled as he slowly walked towards them, his body tight as if ready to spring.

"If they find out, I will tell them that it was my decision alone and you were against it," Margret said, facing him. "If you want to tell them, I will not stop you, but I'm going after Mochan, with or without you."

Vincent took a long look at Margret, then at Sara, his eyes narrowing. "It's your choice," he said, looking back at Margret. "I will stay because I want to see him dead." He then pointed at Sara, "But I will kill her." And he turned, leaving the room.

Sara jumped as the door slammed closed. "Why does he want to kill me?" she cried, looking back at Margret, feeling her strength leave her body.

Margret took a breath, "Don't worry..."

"Don't worry!" Sara screamed. "He has tried to kill me, what, three times now! You tried once, and that old man was the first. I have the right to know why."

"I will tell you, but first we all need some rest, and you need to finish healing." Margret walked towards the door, "Don't worry about Vincent, after he relaxes and gets something to eat, I will talk to him." She held up her hand to stop Sara from interrupting. "Then I will tell you, and bring you something to eat."

Chapter 5

Sara stood in the middle of the room, looking at the door Margret had just closed and, from the click, had locked. Going to it, she turned the golden handle; it wouldn't move. She started to raise her fist to start pounding but stopped, putting her forehead against the wooden panel; she started to cry, slowly sliding down to the floor, her heart dropping. Eric was still pulling her towards him, and she felt that if she waited too much longer, it would be too late.

"Goddess hear me," she whispered, "please wake me up from this nightmare!" She sat on the floor crying, her thoughts jumbled, not understanding what was going on. But the man and woman knew who the old man was, and instead of telling her, they locked her in a room, and at any minute Vincent could come in to kill her.

Her eyes followed the crack that raced down the walls and disappeared behind the headboard of the now made queen-sized bed. The chair Margret had been sitting in was still next to the bed, and in the light, Sara could see it was old and had better days, but she wasn't sure if the light gold with darker flowers was the original color or if it had faded. Her eyes moved to her left and looked at the window.

Sara got up from the floor and went to it. Drawing back the curtain, she tried to open it, but it was nailed shut. Through her tears, she could see an open field through the thick glass, the sun starting to descend behind some trees in the distance. For a second she considered breaking the window and jumping, but changed her mind, the large rocks below would probably kill her.

Leaning against the windowsill, she looked out and watched the orange-tinted clouds slowly move across the blue sky. Eric was out there somewhere; she could feel his fear deep inside of her. She didn't care what could happen to her; she only cared about him.

One cloud caught her eye, and it changed its shape as she watched. The top leveled out into a rectangle with rounded ends; a wisp came out the bottom. Her mind recognized the shape, and Eric's image as a child materialized behind her eyes.

He was only five when Matt and Sara took him to a Renaissance festival, the theme for that weekend was Vikings and Heroes, and as they walked into the park, his eyes lit up at all of the people dressed in costumes.

"Where do you want to start?" Matt asked, handing her a pamphlet while holding Eric's hand as he tried to pull away.

Sara looked at the paper. "Well, we have an hour before the battle, so I guess we can make our way towards the arena."

Matt took her hand and held it as they walked through the growing number of people who had come for the weekend, stopping at a few shops, browsing on their way.

The arena was an open grassy field with bleachers on one side of it; a small white fence separated them from each other. They found a place to sit, and Matt went to get some drinks. Sara sat with her son's small hand in hers.

"Mommy," Eric asked, "why is everyone dressed funny?"

"I told you, it's a Renaissance festival."

"Mommy, they have swords," he whispered as some men dressed in armor walked past, their hands resting on the handles of long swords hanging down from their belts.

"I know; we get to watch them fight."

"Can I fight, too?"

She laughed. "Not here, but there is a place where they can teach you."

"Can I?"

"We'll have to ask your dad."

"Ask me what?" Matt said as he sat next to her.

"To fight with a sword!" Eric shouted as he slashed at the air with an invisible one.

His father laughed and handed a plain paper cup over to Sara, "Do you think you're big enough to hang on to one? They look bigger than you."

Eric stood up. "I'm five!" he announced.

A horn sounded from across the field and six people made their way onto the grass. Five were dressed in shiny silver armor, carrying swords and shields of various sizes; the sixth was dressed in a white uniform.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer in white said, "welcome to the battle." Behind him, the men in armor held up their weapons and gave a battle cry; the crowd sitting in the bleachers cheered with them.

"You will see fights with the sword, with the fists, and with the hammer," the man went on.

"I will wipe you into the dirt," a large voice bellowed from behind the bleachers. A man matching the voice came into view, wearing a simple brown and grey costume, his face covered with a thick red beard. On his head was a helmet with horns coming out the sides, curling down; braids of red hung from underneath the helmet and down past the middle of his back, and in his hand, he carried a large grey hammer. Next to her, Sara heard her son gasp.

"Viking, you think you can challenge these mighty warriors?" the announcer asked while the men behind him laughed.

"I challenge you all," the Viking replied, glancing at the men and the audience.

"Then let the battle begin!"

The Viking jumped the fence and went after the first swordsman who stepped forward, there was the clang as hammer and sword met.

Sara's ears rang from the metal on metal. Her eyes went to each of the swordsmen as they lay on the ground faking their deaths. The Viking slowly walked from the middle of the field towards the crowd, stopping a few yards from the fence. He looked at them as they sat on the bleachers, his eyes slowly moving over the crowd.

"Are there any of you who would dare challenge me?" he bellowed.

"I will."

Sara's heart jumped at Eric's little voice; he was standing on the seat of the bleacher, pulling his hand from hers.

"A mere boy?" the Viking laughed as his eyes locked on Eric. "You all should be ashamed to send a juvenile," he bellowed. "I accept your challenge, child."

Sara reached for him as he jumped from the bleachers. Matt grabbed her hand before she could stop their son, holding it in a strong but gentle grip. Everything inside her told her to protect her child from the giant, even though she knew he wouldn't be hurt.

Eric ran towards the fence and began to climb it; soft giggles left the spectators who sat watching. The Viking reached over, picked him up with one hand, carried him a few steps from the fence, and set him down next to him.

He let out a booming laugh as he set his hammer on its head, onto the ground. "If you can pick up my hammer, we will fight."

Eric went to the hammer; it was as tall as he was. Sara watched with both pride and fear as he grabbed the wooden handle and tried to lift it, but disappointment quickly replaced his determination as the hammer refused to budge. There were a few snickers from the crowd, and anger swept over Sara.

"You have the heart of a Viking," the large man said, "even though your body has yet to meet its size."

The announcer came up to the Viking, who knelt down in front of Eric. Sara couldn't see what the man handed the Viking before he went and stood behind her child, but the Viking handed it right off to Eric. A small smile crept across his little face, and it grew bigger as he held a small plastic hammer in his hands and the announcer placed a small helmet, horns and all, on his head. Eric's blue eyes went wide as joy filled them.

"Practice hard and practice safely," the Viking said. "When your body is the size of your heart, we will have our battle." He stood and placed his hand, which was larger than Eric's head, on the helmet. With a quick bow to the crowd, he picked up his hammer and walked onto the battlefield as the swordsmen got to their feet. The group of warriors gave the crowd a bow, and cheers rang out through the bleachers.

The announcer led Eric back to the fence and picked him up, handing him over to Matt, who stood waiting.

For the next few hours, they walked around the park. Eric ran around them, hammer above his new helmet, roaring at the other Vikings that roamed the dirt streets. When they stopped to look at items at the shops, Eric had no interest unless they were Viking related. Before heading back to the arena for the jousting event, they stopped for lunch, where Eric would only eat Viking food. That was the day Eric became Sara and Matt's little Viking.

They returned to the same seats, the battlefield now cut in half by a six-foot-high fence and watched the large horses run towards each other, fence keeping them from crashing head-on, while their riders held long poles out in front of them, trying to knock each other off their horse. Instead of watching, Eric squirmed in his seat, asking questions about Vikings.

Their day was winding down as the afternoon sun flirted with the horizon. "But Mommy, I want to fight with my hammer," Eric cried as they stood at the fencing area. Young kids were dressed in white uniforms, all holding small, thin swords.

"Vikings fought with swords, too," Sara said. "Ask your dad."

Eric turned, "Did they?"

"Yes, they did," Matt answered. "Look at that Viking," he said, pointing towards a man as he walked by, all dressed in the garb. "He has a sword."

"But it's huge."

"It's better to start small and work your way up," Sara said.

Eric looked around at the people, paying special attention to the few Vikings that walked by. "Okay," he said with a sigh.

Sara and Matt took him to the fence and waited for the class to start. They helped him into the uniform, after talking him out of his helmet and hammer, promising they would guard them with their lives.

"You need anything to drink?" Matt asked, as Sara sat on a bench watching as Eric and the other kids listened to the instructor.

"Sure," Sara answered.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few." He kissed her cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

It was longer than a few minutes before Matt sat down next to Sara. "What took you so long?" she asked.

"Lines," he said; his voice had a slight tremor.

She looked over at him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said smiling. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, and he pulled her into a kiss.

They watched Eric as he swung the small sword around, copying the instructor and other students.

"So," Matt said suddenly, "you still want to have another one?"

Sara turned and met his eyes, "You know I do."

"Then let's do it," he said, grinning, "But first," he got down on his knee in front of her and took her left hand, "marry me."

Sara's eyes got wide, and she gasped, "What?"

"Marry me again. I promised you your dream wedding, and I want to give it to you," he said sliding a ring onto her finger. "Next spring, we can have a handfasting if that's what you want."

Sara lifted her hand and looked at the ring, it was gold with a Celtic weave and as the design ended, it created the mouths of dragons that looked as if they were ready to chomp down on the red stone between them.

"Even if you have another bumpkin," he said, touching her stomach, "it won't stop us."

"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you again."

He stood, taking her with him, and kissed her.

Uncontrollably, her thoughts turned. Sara was standing next to the front door of her parents' house. Greg and Robin had just opened it and were getting ready to walk outside to head for home. Robin, carrying Tammy, who was still a baby, was bundled up against the cold.

Sara tried to stop the memory as the truck's headlights came down her parents' driveway towards the house, but it wouldn't stop.

"It's about time they got back," Robin sneered.

"Well, you know boys and their toys," Sara and Robin's mom replied.

Sara laughed, "Remind me not to let Matt go to an auction with Dad again."

Everyone stopped and stared when they realized it was not Dad's truck on the drive. A cold wind blew past them into the house, but no one noticed, they watched as the sheriff's Bronco pulled to a stop.

Sara's mom was out the door. "What happened?" she asked the old man who got out of the truck. Sara recognized him, he'd been a cop since she was a kid, once bringing her the rest of the way home after her car got stuck in a snowdrift.

It looked as if he had aged fifty years as he looked from her mother then to her. "I'm sorry, but there's been an accident," he forced out. "A semi lost control on some ice." He took a breath. "It hit them head-on. I'm so sorry."

Sara felt all of the air leave her body as she fell to the ground, her brain didn't want to understand what her heart felt.

"It was instantaneous for both of them," the sheriff said.

The last image she saw before she was able to pull herself from the memories was of Eric, putting his Viking helmet and hammer into a box and never touching them again.

Sara opened her eyes as she slid down the wall, her butt hitting the floor hard. All the pain she experienced when Matt died came flooding back as if it had happened all over again. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she felt her spirit ripped away.

## Chapter 6

The sound of paper rattling woke her. Sara sat straight up. The last thing she'd remembered was falling to the floor by the window, but somehow she had gotten into the bed. She looked over towards the table at the person who stood next to it. The smell of French fries filled the room, making her stomach rumble.

"I didn't want to wake you," Margret's sweet voice said.

Sara looked around the room. No daylight shone through the curtains, but someone, probably Margret, had brought in a tall floor lamp, its light pointing to the table.

"Where's Vincent?" Sara asked with a hint of panic in her voice.

"He's downstairs. I don't know if he'll come up or not. Even after he ate and got some sleep, he's still pissed."

"Does he still want to kill me?"

Margret didn't answer. "Do you still want human food, or do you want...?" she asked, holding out her arm.

"Human food," Sara said, throwing the blanket off. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching. Walking towards the table she could see French fries and a cheeseburger. Across the table sat two clear shot glasses near the edge. Sara's stomach growled as she looked at the grease that had soaked through the sandwich's wrapper.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Sara asked as she sat down and unwrapped the sandwich. She took a bite, and warm grease squirted out into her palm and ran down her wrist.

"Doing what?"

"Offering me your arm."

"It's not my arm I'm offering," Margret said as she sat down across from Sara. "Do you want to tell me why I found you on the floor?"

Sara didn't say anything as she took another bite. When she lifted her eyes, she met Margret's. "What?" Sara asked after swallowing hard. "You were doing the same thing at breakfast."

"It's just amazing you can eat that and refuse my blood."

Sara about choked on the fry she had just put in her mouth, "Your blood!?"

Margret met her eyes, "That's what vampires eat." She paused as Sara took a bite of the sandwich. "Sara, you are a vampire."

Sara started to laugh, trying not to choke on the food as she swallowed.

"I'm not joking," Margret said. "Vincent and I are both vampires, that man who took your son, he's a vampire. We think it's Mochan, one of the oldest alive, and he bit you in the attempt to kill you, draining your blood." She shook her head, "but somehow you turned with just one bite. My only guess is that his blood turned you. It doesn't happen that way, but he's done so many experiments with his own body, it wouldn't surprise me."

Sara stopped eating. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Then why am I eating a cheeseburger and fries?"

"That, I haven't figured out yet. I had to make you drink my blood to save you."

"You what? You made me!"

"It was either that or you would've died. The stake grazed your heart, Vincent's are razor-sharp. When you woke up, I thought that..."

"What?"

"I would have to kill you, that the taste had awakened the killer inside you, but you refused." She paused. "Tell me, do you remember drinking any blood at all?"

"No, just the old man's and you trying to make me."

Margret leaned back on her chair, looking up at the ceiling, "That may have something to do with it." She dropped her eyes back to Sara. "Could I have some of your blood?"

"What?" Sara dropped the last bite of the cheeseburger to the table.

Margret chuckled. "I'm not going to drink you. I just want to look at it, to taste it." She stood and picked up the knife Vincent was using to carve a stake. "I don't need a lot."

Shaking, Sara held out her arm. "I don't know what my blood will prove. I'm not a vampire."

With a quick motion, Margret cut the skin of Sara's palm. There was no pain as Sara's blood trickled out into the shot glass Margret was holding. Margret closed Sara's hand after an inch filled the glass, and she took the glass back around the table and sat down in her chair, setting the glass in front of her. Her eyes stared through the clear container at the red liquid.

Sara looked at it, wondering what was so interesting; it looked like blood to her.

"This is remarkable," Margret whispered. "I've never seen vampire blood like this. It's red and thin like human." She swirled the blood around and sniffed, "It smells like human, but with a hint of vampire."

"That's because I'm not a vamp..." Sara's stomach twisted as Margret took a small drink. Her eyes suddenly brightened, and a noise of pleasure left her throat.

"And tastes faintly like vampire, but..." She took another sip, her hand shaking. "But sweet, almost like old blood but better. I can still taste human in it. It's quite delicious," she added licking her lips as she met Sara's eyes.

Sara's heart felt like it skipped a beat as she looked at Margret's silver eyes shining brightly, twinkling like stars in the night sky.

Margret smiled and pulled her eyes away. "I'll show you." She used Vincent's knife to cut her own hand, her blood falling into the other shot glass in slow, thick drops.

Sara looked at it as it sat next to her own, noticing the difference. Margret's blood was darker, almost black. Sara reached for the glasses and as they slid over the table's surface; Margret's moved like thick syrup, her own fluidly. She took a sniff. They smelled different, Margret's not fresh. A chill went through her body and saliva filled her mouth; she suddenly had the desire to drink the thick blood.

"Taste them," Margret whispered.

Startled by Margret's words, the desire left, and Sara put the glasses back down on the table. "That's okay; I'll take your word for it," she said and slid the glasses away from her.

Margret's eyes stayed on Sara for a few seconds before they went back to staring into the blood. "Tell me about your family."

"Like what? My son just turned sixteen, my sister hates me because she's Christian and I'm Wiccan, my mother just died, my husband and father were killed in an accident ten years ago..." Her throat closed, not wanting the memory to return.

"Your distant family. Do you know anything about your ancestors?"

"Not really. My mother did mention, after she found out about my choice in religion, that there's Celtic blood on her side, but they became Christians after they got to America."

"Do you know where they came from originally?"

"No, Mom only said that my ancestors were from all over Europe."

"Hmm." Margret looked up from the glass. "The Celtic people are our companions and have been for centuries. Only select families donate their blood, and in return, we take care of them. They are usually descendants of priests and priestess, or loyal warriors... "

"People do that? Aren't they afraid of turning?"

"There're people all over the world who still donate their blood, and they are very rich, many though are just the next generation. It's their way of life. Some of the vampire legends are true; it does take three bites to change, the first is to weaken the body, the second weakens it more, and the third, you can say you die, but it's more like a coma, and either you wake up a vampire or not at all, and the bites have to take place within ten days.

"Why ten days? Is it a disease or something?"

"It is. But you're different; you have changed with only one bite. It's as if you have already been exposed. Has anyone else bitten you?"

"No."

Margret leaned back in her chair. "Then the only other explanation is Mochan's bite or his blood woke it up." Margret stared at Sara, "It's not supposed to happen that way." Margret stood and looked out the window at the dark sky. "The fact that you haven't had any human blood is why I think you don't desire it. Human blood is the first thing we want after we change. It's the only thing that satisfies us. I just can't figure out why you don't want any blood at all."

"So how do you keep them, humans, from turning?"

Margret turned back towards her. "Most of us don't drink from their bodies anymore. Only the oldest of vampires are allowed to. For the rest of us, it's drinking from a straw. Like when humans donate blood, except instead of it going into a bag, it goes into us. Younger vampires, like Vincent and me, that's how we do it, unless it's impossible, then we'll take it from the body, but never the same human more than twice in a month, so as not to create a vampire. That is forbidden, only the Sires are allowed to. If we do, even by accident, we could be killed right along with our creation."

"But you can kill people, as Mochan tried with me."

"Yes, and it's easy to do; you don't even have to be hungry. Taking it from a body is too exciting and it's easy to lose control."

"Have you ever killed a human?"

Margret sat back down. "After I was first changed I had to learn how to control my thirst; every new vampire has to. One never knows when one will have to take it from a body." Margret looked down at the table, her voice softening. "I almost killed a young girl, but with help from my creator and the Sirelords, I learned to control it." Margret looked at the fries on the table. "Are you going to finish those? They smell good."

"Can you eat human food?"

"Nope, it makes us sick. We can taste, but that's it. There've been vampires who have died from puking up their stomachs. Vincent made a bet that you'd barf in two bites." Margret laughed, "and I won, so he won't kill you, at least for now."

Margret looked at Sara's fries; she took one and held it under her nose, inhaling deeply. "Does it hurt when you cry? I can feel myself wanting to, but nothing happens," she said to the fry.

"You don't cry?" Sara whispered.

"No, I haven't been able to shed a tear since I was changed, almost five hundred years now. I don't really remember what it feels like." She met Sara's eyes, "In the alley, I thought I was seeing things, but when we were sitting here, I couldn't help but touch your tears. It's almost like a part of you is still human." Margret closed her eyes and Sara expected to see a tear slide from under a lid, but nothing happened.

Margret's eyes opened, and she sniffed the fry again. "Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I'll sit in a strawberry patch and taste a few. Breaks my heart; they were my favorite."

"So, me eating, it bothers you?"

"I'm a little jealous, but just don't let me catch you eating strawberries," she added with a smirk. She stuck the tip of the fry to her tongue, then dropped it to the table. "That does taste good," she said, giving Sara a wink.

"I'll remember that. No strawberries," Sara smiled. "So are you and Vincent...?"

Margret looked at her, "Oh God no! The Sires paired us, thinking that's what we wanted, but yuck, we have the same creator, and he brought us up together. That would be like with my brother," she shivered.

Sara shook her head. "I can't believe I'm sitting here talking to someone who says she's a vampire, and that I'm one."

Margret stood and went to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and took something out. When she came back to the table she handed a small mirror to Sara. "Look at your eyes."

Sara held the mirror to her face and looked, her hands shaking. The small lines of silver still streaked through the brown, but now it looked like the start of a spider web.

"The silver is beginning to take over your natural eye color and will only leave a trace of it when the transformation is complete," Margret said. "It happens to all of us."

Kneeling down next to Sara, Margret went on, "In the alley, when you came to me, at first I wasn't sure if you were a vampire. Yes, you were drawn to the scent of my blood, but you smelled too human. It was the silver in your eyes that told me what you were. What's interesting is that the silver isn't filling your eyes as fast as it should; it looks like it's trying to break in and you're fighting it."

Margret took Sara's hand, the one she had cut, "I was ready to kill you, until you stopped, resisted my blood. Most new creations can't do that for at least six years or more. You should be trying to rip my throat out right now, not eating French fries."

"I'm still having a hard time believing you," Sara mumbled, not wanting to admit she was starting to believe. "You could have done something to my eyes, to change their color."

"Look at your hand," Margret said as she let go of it. Sara raised it and rubbed a finger over the skin. Flakes of dried blood fell away from a small red line that marked where the wound once was. She sat looking at her hand until Margret spoke.

"You're taking it well."

"I don't know how I'm taking it. It feels like a dream." She paused and put her hand down. "So why does Vincent want to kill me?"

"Because you are a new vampire. For the last one hundred years, the Sirelords have ordered that none are to be created. There's just too many of us, it's hard to keep us all fed."

"So it doesn't matter to anyone that I never wanted to be..." she muttered, trying to fight her tears, "a vampire."

"No, it doesn't," Vincent said behind Sara. She jumped in her chair; every muscle in her body tensed, ready to either fight or run. "Margret and I both took the vow to kill all new creations."

Slowly he walked into Sara's sight, but he was not looking at her; he was looking at Margret. "I heard your theories about her change; makes some sense." He took the glasses of blood in his hands and looked deeply at them, taking a sniff of Sara's. For a split second his eyes brightened. "But it's still no reason to keep it alive."

"Vincent, you can always leave," Margret said.

He put the glasses on the table, walked towards the wall, and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

Margret looked from him then back to Sara, rolling her eyes. "Ignore him."

"I'll try." But Sara could feel his stare on her. "So what does all of this have to do with my son? What does this old guy want with him? Is he going to change him?" Sara began to panic, and her voice got louder as she spoke the words.

Margret dropped her eyes, "Mochan was a Sirelord; he was the youngest and greediest for power, but he was also the weakest. He was born with a deformity and was shunned by everyone. You know the story: the tormented one wants revenge. The usual _'we should rule the earth'_ bullshit. He was pissed when the Sires went into hiding after Egypt started to fall. Mochan loved the fear of the humans and them treating him as a god. Besides his pleasure in torturing anything and everything, he was known for his experiments. He tried to find out how many different ways there were to change humans and kill vampires."

"He even tried it on pregnant women," Vincent said as he walked back towards the table, "to see if the child would be changed. Each experiment failed; usually, the mother and child both died." He looked at Margret, "What was it? Out of the fifty or so women, eleven lived and only two babies."

Margret nodded, and Vincent went on. "The women who lived went crazy, or they changed and ended up as Mochan's playthings, but both of the infants were uninfected. One mother killed her own, sucked it dry, and the other the father took. He ran from the cave covered in blood, his wife's body was still inside, her head removed, but the child was born too soon, and wouldn't survive the night."

"Mochan was going to be punished, but he escaped, vowing to take control and make the vampire race gods again," Margret added.

"He went into hiding for years until he came back with an army and tried to kill the Sires, almost succeeding," Vincent continued, "but he didn't know that experimenting on his own body would have consequences. That scar on his face, he got it in battle; his body doesn't heal like a pure vampire anymore. And he's killed a lot, both human and vampire, that's why the Sires have ordered his death."

Vincent smiled at Sara, "He likes to be in control, to drink right from the source, and to kill. That's what he is planning to do," he said, looking into her eyes. "Your son is the right age, young and strong, everything that Mochan desires in his playthings and soldiers." There was laughter in his voice. "He's going to drink your son, Sara, torture him, and change him..."

Sara's breath caught. "No!" she screamed, jumping from her chair. It fell over, hitting the floor with a bang. "I have to save him." She went running for the door.

"Sara, wait," Margret yelled, meeting her and grabbing her arm. "Even if you save your son, Mochan will still be alive. He would create more vampires and take over the Sirelords. He would be invincible." She started to lead Sara back to the table. "If he is allowed to live, he will come after you and your son. Hell, he will come after the entire human race to make all of you his slaves."

"Eric is my only child, the only thing I have left of Matt. I don't want him to be a vampire," she cried, pulling her arm away from Margret.

"Sara, I want us to work together." Margret looked over at Vincent. "We could save your son and stop Mochan," she said, meeting Sara's eyes.

"How? Do you know where he is?"

"Not exactly, but you tracked your son from Iowa to New York. Just about every vampire out there has been looking for Mochan for years, but you tracked your son here in two weeks." Margret took Sara's hand. "I think you can find them both. I don't know how, but a part of you is still human, and that part is his mother. You can feel him, can't you?"

"Yes, it's as if he's pulling me to him. And it feels as if it's going to tear my stomach out of me if I don't follow," Sara said with tears coming from her eyes.

"And that's how we'll find them. We'll follow you, and you will lead us straight to your son and to Mochan. The three of us together could kill him."

"The three of us?" Vincent bellowed, "I will not follow her! I will kill her first."

"Vincent, we've killed at least fifty new vampires this year alone. If it is Mochan, he could already have an army big enough to take the Sires. He may already be too strong for just us to fight. And even if we keep killing the new ones, there are a hell of a lot of humans out there he can choose from; he'll just keep creating more for his army. We have to find out and stop him."

Sara felt her knees tremble. If they didn't find Eric and stop Mochan, her only child would be dead or a vampire. She hoped she knew the one way to get Vincent to help save her son. Taking a deep breath, she walked right up to him and looked into his eyes. "Vincent, if you help me save my son, I will let you kill me."

His eyes locked onto hers.

"Sara!" Margret yelled, pulling her away. "You can't mean that!"

"Yes, I do. My son's safety is the only thing I care about." She pulled away from Margret and faced Vincent. "My son is more important than my life. I will give it freely to save him." Tears came to her eyes. "As long as you swear you will save him, even if I'm already dead, I will help you." She looked at Margret, then back to Vincent. "If it's too late and my son has turned," she took a breath, "I ask that you do everything possible to end his suffering and mine. I know I wouldn't be able to do it."

Silence filled the room as Sara looked at Vincent, and a smile slowly spread across his lips. "I'll do it."

"Once my son is safe, I will let you."

"You heard it, Margret!" he said, looking into Sara's eyes; sparkling green pinpoints danced in his bright silver eyes. "And I'll enjoy every minute," he said maliciously.

"Sara," Margret whispered, "you don't know what he's capable of."

"I don't care. I just want my son safe." She looked at Margret. "Safe from all vampires."

Margret nodded. "If it comes down to it, I'll watch over your child myself. From all vampires," she added, looking at Vincent.

"I won't touch your son as long as he's human," Vincent snarled. "I won't take a sip, I just want to see you dead."

"Fine, it's a deal," Sara said, holding Vincent's gaze until Margret pulled her away.

Margret caught Vincent's eye. "I really hope we can trust you."

"As long as she doesn't do anything stupid, I won't touch her until it's finished."

"Good. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

Sara looked at Margret. "Vampires can be in the sunlight?"

She smiled, "The legends were exaggerated by companions and people Mochan terrorized. Yes, we are a lot stronger and faster than a human, and our senses are extremely sensitive. We see better in the dark. The light of the full moon is to us what a bright summer afternoon is to a human, so sunlight can be a major inconvenience. Some days, without sunglasses, we wouldn't be able to leave the house, and we feel more of the heat the sun creates. I've had a few nasty sunburns," Margret said, grimacing. "But we can be killed just like a human. Vampires do heal fast; that's why you have to cause major damage to a vital organ. Stakes to the heart, fire, and decapitation are the best, and quickest ways to kill us. Nobody can heal from that."

Chapter 7

Sara lay in bed looking up at the plain white ceiling, her hair still wet from a bath, possibly her last. Her brain still reeling with all that had happened, still not believing she was a vampire, that they even existed, but she didn't care if she was one or not, finding Eric was the only thing that mattered.

Her thoughts turned to Vincent. His lean body and handsome, firm face materialized from behind her closed eyes, his dark brown hair making his bright silver eyes stand out from his pale skin. She felt her brain study his features, how his hair lay over his forehead and hung down framing his face, his jawbone outlining it, his eyes blazing silver when he looked at her. _'He's good looking.'_

Her eyes snapped open, her body tense, pushing into the mattress beneath her. Vincent's face and eyes hovered above, burning her eyes. Sara took a breath, the image faded, then she took another to calm her heart as it crashed against her chest.

' _What am I thinking?'_ she chastised herself. _'He wants to kill me! But I will let him, once Eric is safe. That was the deal.'_ She knew if she ran, Eric would never be safe; Vincent would go after him to get to her.

' _What would Matt say?'_ she thought as she rolled to her side. _'He'd say that I'd better stop reading those horror novels.'_

Sleep slowly pulled her down into its murky depths.

"Sara, it's time."

Opening her eyes, she saw Margret's silver eyes reflecting the firelight. Getting out of bed, she dressed in a pair of Margret's black jeans and shirt, sliding her feet into her own worn-out tennis shoes.

Margret handed her a black belt. "You're going to need this to hold some weapons."

As she slid it through the loops of the jeans, her heart pounded as fear and excitement went through her, but the fear weighed her down. It wasn't fear for herself but for her son.

She followed Margret out the bedroom door into a hall, and in the center, a wooden railing surrounded a staircase. On each of the three blue walls looking across the railing were blue doors, their frames painted white. Trailing Margret down the stairs, Sara looked through the railing towards the room she had just left; that door was also blue. After a few steps down, the door disappeared, replaced by the stairway's white wall.

They went into an entryway, and Margret walked straight towards a large door, its wood grain stood out in the dark golden color that stained its surface. At eye height, one diamond-shaped window edged with a frosted leaf pattern looked out to the world beyond. Margret stopped and picked up something from the small table near the door.

Sara hadn't realized she was in a house this big, but as she followed Margret, she could sense the size of the building, passing wide archways on either side of her. To the right led into what could be a living room; two chairs sat side by side in front of a fireplace; the left a dining room, a large red-brown wood table in the middle, four matching chairs around it, and on the far wall, a closed door leading to somewhere else.

She heard birds singing as soon as Margret opened the front door, then saw the first light of the sun highlighting the world outside. Fresh morning air drifted in, bringing the calming smell of flowers. As she stepped into the sunlight, her eyes started to water and blink from its brightness, even though only a sliver of orange-yellow was over the horizon.

Margret stopped, turned, and handed Sara a pair of sunglasses. "You might need these," she said as she slipped her own pair on.

Sara put on the glasses, and the world took on a darkened hue. When her eyes dried and stopped blinking, she was able to focus. Sitting in the drive was an old 70's black Nova. Vincent stood next to it, sunglasses covering his eyes, holding a cell phone against his ear. He didn't pause in his conversation as he turned towards Sara as she approached.

Taking a quick glance back at the house, Sara could see it wasn't old and falling apart as she expected; it wasn't a 'vampire's' house. It was an old farm home, but the paint looked fresh, and over the years someone had taken very good care of it.

Both stories had large windows set into the walls, the windows on the second floor arched up, creating a pyramid shape, matching the roofline, and a small window looked out from the attic.

Walking away, she noticed the lawn looked as if it had been mowed a few days ago, and behind the house, she could see the branches from a forest of tall trees dancing in the breeze, their leaves twisting in harmony.

Margret opened the car's passenger door, pushed the seat forward and motioned for Sara to get in the back. As she did, she saw Vincent nod to Margret as he closed the phone and stuck it into the back pocket of his jeans. He got in and started the machine. When it roared to life, Sara could feel the powerful engine shaking the car beneath her.

Vincent tore away from the house, the back tires spraying gravel as the car fishtailed a few feet. Sara's muscles tightened to keep herself from swaying with the motion. Through the windshield, she watched a large red barn standing next to the end of the lane grow; it and a line of trees blocked what was beyond from view. Four horses of different shades of brown looked up from the tall, dark green grass and watched as they drove by, their tails swaying lazily behind them.

Just past the barn, the lane curved through an opening between the trees, the gravel lane ending as it met pavement. Across the road was a small community of fancy homes and well-manicured lawns, all separated by fences, from the short white picket, tall brown boards, or black metal bars that made it look as if the home was in jail. There, Vincent turned north; the direction Sara felt Eric was.

No one spoke as the miles went by, but Sara caught herself staring at the back of Vincent's head or at the side of his face in the review mirror, wondering why she had these feelings of attraction for him when all he wanted was to kill her. Closing her eyes, she thought of Eric, and as each minute passed, she felt his pull get a little stronger.

Her mom's image suddenly appeared, sitting in Dad's old white rocker, her face pale and her eyes wet, her grey hair hung loosely on her shoulders. She cut it short after her husband died, claiming she'd wanted to cut it off years ago but left it long because he loved it so much.

Sara sat next to Robin on the orange couch, both looking at their mom.

"Girls," her mom said slowly, "I went to the doctor and," she paused swallowing hard, "I'm afraid its cancer."

Both Sara and Robin gasped, and Sara started to get up from the couch, but her mom held out her hand towards her. Sara knew the meaning; 'Sit down and shut up.'

"He only gave me three to six months."

"Mom," Sara said holding back tears, "there's chemo and..."

Her mom cut her off, "It's too late for that, it's spread. But I want to enjoy what time I have left."

"What do you want us to do?" Robin asked calmly.

"I want you to help me," Mom replied.

"Is there a home the doctor recommended?" Robin asked. "There's a new one opening up..."

"I don't want to die in a nursing home," Mom snapped, "I want to die in my own house, that's why I'm asking for your help. If I go to one of those, I will have to sell the house." Her voice began to crack. "Your father and I both wanted you two to have it, a place for you and your kids to spend the summers."

Sara got off the couch and knelt down next to her mom. Taking her hand she said, "What do you want us to do?"

The old woman took a deep breath. "I've already made arrangements with Hospice, but I would like if you girls could make sure they take care of me properly. I've heard so many awful stories on the television..."

Tears began to roll from her eyes, and she took another deep breath. "I know that this is a lot for me to ask of you." Pulling her hand away from Sara's she stood, "I'll understand if you don't think you'll be able to handle watching me die. I know I would have a hard time." She slowly walked out of the living room.

Sara sat on the floor, her tears leaving her eyes when she heard the front door open then close.

"I think she should go into a nursing home," Robin said.

"Would you want to go into one?" Sara asked, glaring at her sister.

"I wouldn't ask my children to take care of me. Neither of us knows what to do."

"That's why you learn."

"I have two kids to take care of. I don't want them watching her die. It's just not right. That's why there are nursing homes."

"Yeah, a place for people like you to dump your parents off so your life won't be disrupted," Sara mumbled under her breath.

"My kids don't need to witness something like that."

"So what, you're not going to let them see their Grandma anymore? It's a part of life, Robin, something everyone has to go through."

Robin got up from the couch, her eyes narrowing as she pointed her finger towards Sara. "Then you take care of her. I have a life, and you don't."

As Sara got up from the floor, fighting the urge to punch her sister, Robin took a step back. "You're such a bitch, Robin. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have a life. I'll help mom, and I don't give a rat's ass if you do. But for her sake and your daughters', you bring them here to see her." Sara turned and walked towards the front door in search of her mom.

Her mom was sitting next to the pond, leaning against the large oak tree, her husband's favorite fishing spot. Sara could remember when she was a kid sitting next to him, fishing the lazy summer afternoons away, talking about the clouds, trees, or the insects that crawled around the grass. She believed he was the reason she was drawn to the Wiccan religion. Yes, he was Christian and went to church every Sunday, but he loved the outdoors and respected everything Mother Nature threw at him, from the freezing cold blizzards, and the heavy rains that flooded out his fields, to the scorching summer heat. When the weather was bad he would always say, _'She's mad about something.'_

Sara sat down next to her mom, and for a few minutes they sat in silence. "Mom," Sara said, "Eric and I are moving in."

Her mom gasped. "That's not what I wanted. You have your own life in Des Moines; I don't want you to give it up. I just want help making my final arrangements and to make sure there isn't a weirdo changing my diaper."

"My life wouldn't be much if it wasn't for you," Sara said, meeting her mom's eyes. "You were there for me instead of mourning for dad. It's my turn to be here for you."

Mom's eyes filled with tears. Sara grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. Within seconds, both of their shoulders were wet with each other's tears.

Sara opened her eyes. They were now on an interstate, the cars racing each other over the grey pavement. She watched Margret for a few seconds but got bored. Margret wasn't doing anything; her only movement was her hair blowing in the wind from the open window.

Her eyes shifted towards Vincent. He, too, was still except for one hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, moving left to right as he directed the car down the road. She looked out the windshield but caught a silver flash from the corner of her eye. Vincent was looking over his sunglasses at her in the rearview mirror. Quickly turning away, she attempted to relax in the backseat.

Eric's pull was a lot stronger, and when she closed her eyes, the event played out in her mind.

Eric was in the car when Mochan attacked her and had watched everything, probably believing she was dead. Images of the horror he could be suffering bombarded her thoughts, making her eyes snap open. She blinked away her tears and again found Vincent's silver eyes in the mirror watching her intensely. When they met, she felt a shiver course through her limbs and her heart gave her chest a hard kick.

She tore her eyes away and gazed out Margret's window. A line of trees ran alongside the road, blocking any view beyond, their branches made Sara feel as if she were caged, and she thought she could still feel Vincent's eyes on her but was too afraid to meet them again.

Tears escaped her eyes as she watched the scenery outside the window go by. Her thoughts turned back to Eric and she realized she didn't know where he could go if they made it out alive. There was no way she would let him go into a foster home, and that left her with only two options: Matt's half-brother Ray or her own sister.

While Sara knew Greg would treat him like his own, Robin would treat Eric like a sick dog, and knowing her, she would take him to a foster home the first chance she got.

Ray was her only hope. He was a good guy, almost ten years younger than Matt, graduated college at the top of his class, married his high school sweetheart, and they had one boy together. He even came to her mother's funeral, reminding her he'd always have a room for her and Eric if she ever wanted to visit. Sara hoped he was serious and hadn't just said it to be nice to his half-brother's widow.

She found herself dozing, opening her eyes to different images: fields, trees, homes, and towns. The sky began to darken as rain clouds rolled overhead. A few drops of water hit the glass, leaving starry designs that streaked up the windshield as the wind blew them. Sara slowly took off her sunglasses, testing her eyes, blinking a couple of times as they adapted to the natural light.

When the car slowed to a stop Sara sat up, wide awake. She looked out the windshield as three cars drove by them. Vincent turned onto the road following the cars and Sara leaned forward in a panic, about ready to yell. They were going in the wrong direction.

"Relax," Vincent said, pointing towards the dash of the car. "We need gas."

Slowly Sara leaned back. "You missed the last one," Margret said, turning to look at her and taking off her sunglasses. "I bet you're stiff."

Sara tried to move her legs in the small area. "A little," she replied. "Where are we?"

"About fifty miles from the Maine border," Vincent answered.

"Are we still going in the right direction?" Margret asked.

"We were."

Margret nodded and turned back. Ahead Sara could see a gas station getting closer. One of the cars turned into the gas station, stopping in front of the building. Vincent followed, pulling up next to the pumps.

Both doors opened, and the two left the car as soon as Vincent turned it off, Margret pulling the front seat forward to allow Sara a way out.

"You got ten minutes," he said as the women walked towards the building.

The cement was still wet with the rain that had ended, patches starting to dry as Sara walked by them. Every muscle and joint in her body hurt, but with each step, the pain began to subside. As soon as she was in the store, she made a beeline for the bathroom, with Margret next to her.

Sara stood at the sink drying her hands when Margret stepped out of the stall. Giving Sara a wink, Margret started to wash her hands. "We're making good time," she said. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know. Can we go any faster?"

"Sorry, we don't want to attract any attention, either from humans or vampires."

They went out of the bathroom, and Sara looked around. There were a few people at the counter waiting to hand over their cash and three at the glass cooler doors, grabbing bottles of pop. Vincent had just walked in, his sunglasses hanging by one arm from the neck of his shirt, and looked in her direction. She didn't know if he noticed that the two girls behind the counter stopped what they were doing and watched as he went through the store to the bathroom.

Sara grabbed a bottle of water, went to the counter, and stood behind a middle-aged man who stank of pigs. It smelled awful, but it reminded her of her father after the fall harvest. _'The smell of next year's money,'_ he'd say after spreading fertilizer on the fields.

"I'll get that," Margret said, taking the water from her. "You go out and stretch some more."

Nodding, Sara went out into the moist, warm air and walked to the car. Leaning against the trunk, she looked north. _'That's where Eric is'_ , her body told her.

The sound of hurried footsteps approaching got her attention. Glancing over, she saw Vincent jogging towards her, slowing as he got near. "Had to make sure you didn't run off," he said, leaning against the side of the car, watching her.

Sara stopped herself from answering him; instead, she turned away and watched as the sky got brighter as the dark clouds full of rain continued east. The car shifted beneath her; she turned, and Vincent was sitting on the trunk, his eyes still on her. Instantly he made her even more frightened.

Pushing herself away, she went to the passenger door and opened it. Without a word or a glance back, she squeezed into the backseat. A few seconds later, he got in the driver's seat, not saying anything either, but when she looked up to watch for Margret, she caught a glimpse of his eyes watching her in the mirror.

## Chapter 8

An hour or so later, when the car crossed the border into the state of Maine, Sara felt her body tighten. As each mile went by she could feel Eric's pull getting stronger. As Vincent began to slow, to match the speed limit sign posted, Sara wanted him to drive faster. The car made its way down a steep hill and she could see dwellings in the distance. Meeting the pavement, dirt roads led off between groves of trees that adorned the small community in the valley. The houses were small, and most had sagging porch roofs and only a few areas where the paint wasn't worn away. A few of the yards had dead trees lying in the tall grass, and broken windows looked back at her.

The road curved to the right and began to climb; more and more houses appeared, which got larger and nicer. Sara placed her hands on her knees, squeezing, in an attempt to control her impulse to tell Vincent to speed up.

At the top of the hill, the light from the sun peeked over the tops of the houses that lined the streets. The homes ended at a large church; beyond, businesses and traffic sprouted. She saw the stoplight ahead turn yellow, and she swallowed the scream that threatened to escape. The car slowed and waited for the light to turn then slowly, Vincent followed the cars ahead of them. For eight blocks they followed, red lights stopping them at every other intersection.

Sara watched out the window, her stomach tight as gas stations, fast food restaurants, and other businesses passed by.

She felt the car turn right. "What are you doing?" she yelled, leaning forward over the seat. "You're going the wrong way!"

Vincent turned his head. "Sit down," he growled.

"We have to make a stop to feed," Margret calmly said, turning towards Sara. "We're going to need all of our strength to attempt this." Smiling, she added, "It's only going to take an hour."

Sara turned away and looked back through the windshield. Vincent drove through an upper-class neighborhood. Kids were playing in the yards along the street and she could hear their screams of laughter as they chased each other. At first, she smiled, but then she felt dread come over her. She passed a glance at the back of Vincent and Margret's heads, fear for the children piercing her heart. _'How many vampires have visited this neighborhood?'_ she wondered.

The car slowed, and Vincent turned into the driveway of a large two-story blue house. Four cars of different makes and colors, but high priced, were also in the drive. He turned off the car, opened his door and got out, stretching as he stood. Margret followed suit, pulling the back of the seat forward for Sara.

As Sara stood, she scanned the area around the house. The garage doors were closed, but through the windows, she could see two more cars inside. Around her, the birds sang, and she could hear the chatter of squirrels in the trees, along with the happy screams of children ringing out a few houses away.

Hearing the bang of a door closing, she looked back towards the house. A girl about the same age as Eric came out the front door, behind her a little boy and girl, around three or four years of age, followed. The older girl looked over at the vampires, her gaze stopping on Vincent, and she gave him a big smile. With a small hand in each of hers, she took the kids down the porch steps and into the backyard.

"Looks like they're ready for us," Vincent said and started to walk towards the home, Margret and Sara following.

A woman with short brown hair and dressed in a blue blouse and loose-fitting tan slacks was standing at the front door, holding it open. "We're set up in the bedrooms," she said happily, as the three walked up the steps, "A companion is already waiting for each of you. We were able to get four others to join us."

From the opened door, Sara could smell the sweet scent of cooked meat and cookies, and her stomach growled softly.

"That should do just fine," Margret said gratefully.

"I will take you to your rooms."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Sara asked, grabbing Margret's arm as she and Vincent took a step to go inside the house.

The woman must have heard her for she gave Sara a puzzled look.

"Sara," Margret whispered, "we need to feed so we can be at our strongest, if we don't, we won't have a slim chance to save your son."

Sara looked at her, and she could feel the skin in the back of her throat itch. "You're not including me in this we, are you?"

"It's time you start acting like a vampire," Vincent growled, his silver eyes glowing.

"No," Sara said firmly, taking a step back. "I am not going to feed on a human." Adding in a hurried whisper, "There was a fast-food joint a few blocks away. I'll grab something to eat and wait for you there.

"No, you will not," Vincent said, grabbing her arm, pulling her to the house. Sara fought back against his strength, but he was three times stronger than she was.

"Vincent," Margret said, "wait." She turned to the woman. "Could you give us a minute?"

The woman nodded and went inside. Sara could see her leaning against the doorframe that led into the heart of the house a few feet from the door, her eyes shifting over each vampire standing on her porch.

Sara tried to take her arm from Vincent, but he pulled her closer to him, their noses almost touching; the green in his eyes danced in the silver lake. Her heart thudded inside of her.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he snarled.

"I'm not eating a human," she growled back, still trying to get away.

"Vincent," Margret said, taking Sara's arm that he was holding. "I don't think we should make her."

He let go of Sara, and she stumbled back a step. His eyes narrowed in anger as he looked at Margret. "What, you think we should just let her take off?" he yelled.

"Yes," Margret said calmly. "Sara, you're going to go to the first place and wait?" she asked.

"Yes," Sara said, stepping back towards them.

Vincent glared at Margret, and then he grabbed Sara again and pulled her into his face, "If you're not there, I'll make your death as painful as possible."

"I'll be there," she said, meeting his hateful stare. His eyes lit up, and she could see his lips begin to curl into a scowl, after a few seconds he let go and walked into the house.

Margret gave Sara a worried look.

"I'll be there," Sara said. "You know the direction I'd go, so you'd find me anyway."

Margret snickered, "That's not what I'm worried about." She gave a quick glance to the house, then back at Sara. "I've never seen Vincent back down like that before." Lowering her voice, she added, "You need to watch what you do around him from now on, I'm afraid he could snap at any time."

"It won't matter. All he has to do is look at me, and he's pissed."

"Just don't look him in the eye anymore."

Sara nodded. "Um, I'm going to need some money."

Margret let out a laugh and reached into her front pocket, pulling out a wad of bills. Handing them over to Sara, she asked, "Will that be enough?"

"More than enough," Sara said, looking at the twenties.

Margret gave a nod and went inside, but before the door closed, she looked back out at Sara, "An hour."

Sara instantly took off, bounding down the porch steps and walking as fast as she could away from the house. It felt good to be doing something other than sitting in the backseat of a car. Even though she wanted to run towards her son, she made herself keep to a fast walk. She knew better than to run: Vincent would find her and keep his promise.

A few blocks ahead, she could see traffic. It didn't seem as if it had taken her very long to walk the four blocks. She turned the corner and walked along the main drag, looking in the windows of the shops at the people inside as they browsed through clothes in one, jewelry in another.

' _I was once one of them,'_ she thought, _'walking around without fear. Thinking nothing bad would happen, stuff like that only goes on in big cities, and vampires were fairy tales.'_

She could smell the cooking grease as she walked through the parking lot where a few cars were sitting. It wafted from the building, making her stomach growl loudly. Opening the door, the smell was instantly stronger. The sounds of voices and children laughing echoed in her ears. Her first stop though was the bathroom to clean up.

Sara looked at herself in the mirror: hair fine, no dirt on her face, then she looked into her eyes. They were still brown, but the silver was still there, breaking her natural color into pieces. She closed her eyes, wishing for it to go away, but when she opened them, the silver was still there.

She took her place in line behind an elderly couple who were taking their own sweet time deciding what they wanted.

"Charles," she heard the old woman say to the man she stood by, "you know you will have the runs if you eat that."

Sara stifled a laugh, wondering if her parents would have acted like that. Her attention shifted to the laughter of children, and she saw a group of them playing in the playground, the adults sat at the tables, a few holding hands, and every now and again they would turn at the sound of their children.

Sara watched the kids play, their shouts of excitement and laughter echoed through the plastic tubes that snaked around high above as they chased each other through them, then slid down the slide, only to climb back up again.

Memories of Eric at that age came back to her. She remembered sitting in a similar restaurant with Matt as Eric played, both of them in a pile of multicolored balls as Eric hid under them, grabbing their toes with his small hands and the tight squeeze, the feeling of claustrophobia as she chased him through the tunnels while Matt stalked below, waiting for Eric to slide down to be grabbed because he didn't want to go home. Her eyes began to tear, and her heart felt as if it was breaking. Not being able to stand it, she turned her attention back to the counter, and the elderly couple was walking away with their tray of food.

Sara went to the counter and ordered just a sandwich and pop. Margret had given her enough money to eat everything, but her stomach was being pulled in two different directions, one towards Eric, the other towards food.

Taking her meal outside, she sat on a bench in a grassy area and ate slowly trying to ignore the feeling in her stomach that was steadily growing more intense. Forcing her concentration on the taste of the food, she picked out different flavors: onions, lettuce, pickles, and catsup, she could even taste a hint of chicken mixed in with the beef.

Sara got up and tossed the yellow wrapper and white cup in the trashcan near her, glancing at the clock just visible inside the store, she still had a half-hour to wait. She was about to sit back down but she noticed a bookstore nestled between a clothing and a craft store, right across the street. For something to do, she jogged across and went inside to look around.

A bell rang as she opened the door and went into the small, brightly lit store. The clerk, an older woman with long red hair, being overtaken by white, sat behind the counter near the door. She looked up from the paperback in her hands and gave Sara a smile.

'If she only knew,' Sara thought, 'would she smile at me like that?'

"Is there anything I can help you find?" the woman asked.

"No, thank you," Sara replied, "just looking."

"If there's anything you need, just give a holler."

"Thank you."

Sara walked past the clerk into the first row of shelves; books instantly surrounded her. She looked at the used paperbacks stacked on top of each other, their spines facing out. The smell of old paper made her eyes and nose itch.

Walking down the narrow aisle looking at the titles, she hoped no one would venture her way; there would barely be enough room for them to pass each other.

As she scanned the titles, memories of the storylines came back to her as her eyes fell on those she had read. An emptiness opened in her body as she realized she would never read a book again. She loved to read. Matt never understood her obsession, but he called her his own bookworm, asking every day when he got home how many books she'd tunneled through.

She was about to turn to the right, but along that wall was the children's section. Fearing the memories of the books she had read to Eric and of Matt's shadow as he listened in the hallway ready to pounce if it got scary, she turned left and went into the next row only to find the section was dedicated to vampires. Above her head a sign hung from the ceiling, telling her with arrows that to her right was the nonfiction, and to her left the fiction. She smiled, knowing that as a teenager and as an adult she'd read quite a few on her left.

Walking back up to the front of the store, she took a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. It told her it was time. She stopped on her way out when she noticed two shelves of newer books. One caught her eye, and she picked it up. It was the last book in a series she'd been reading. Her stomach dropped, and she put the book back in its place, hoping it had a happy ending. Giving a wave to the clerk, Sara walked into the fresh air.

She sat on a bench next to the restaurant and waited, watching families come and go. Deep down she wished she'd bought the book; it would have been something she could use to take her mind off things, but she knew those things wouldn't let her read.

Before she saw Vincent's car coming down the road, she heard it. Standing, she walked to the corner where the road and parking lot met. A few seconds later the black Nova came towards her. She could make out the shapes of the two people in the front seat. It began to slow and pulled into the drive, Vincent's eyes on her, glowing bright silver.

Margret got out as Sara went around and she slid into the car, taking her place in the backseat. As she did a faint, sweet smell came from the front seat. Her stomach kinked in curiosity, but her brain knew it was the scent of blood.

Settling into her seat, she could see Vincent's eyes in the review mirror watching her. Leaning her head towards Margret's open window, she let the wind keep the aroma away.

Sara felt her anxiety ease as Vincent pointed the car in the right direction. With each mile and minute that passed, Sara could feel Eric getting closer. Her insides became itchy, and she couldn't keep still. Each time she moved she saw Vincent's eyes flash at her in the review mirror. His stare was the only thing keeping her from bouncing around the backseat.

"Are we still going the right way?" Margret asked with concern in her voice.

"Yes," Sara said, "but we still need to go more east."

Margret put the map in her lap, the paper crunching. "Sara," she said slowly and quietly, "that's the ocean."

"That's where he is!" Sara shouted and pointed out the window.

"This was a waste of time," Vincent shouted as he hit the steering wheel, his eyes catching Sara's in the mirror.

"Wait," Margret said, looking at the map, "there's something out there." She looked up, "We need to stop in the next town."

A few miles later the town appeared. It was full of people and traffic. "Just as I thought," Margret said as they stopped for a group of well-dressed teenage girls who walked slowly across the street in front of them. "A tourist town." The car started to move again. "Pull in there," Margret said, pointing to an empty space in front of a building. Overhanging the door was a sign saying, 'Tourist Information'.

As soon as the car stopped, Margret slipped on her sunglasses, opened the door, and got out. Sara watched from the backseat as she disappeared into the building. Taking a glance towards the front of the car, as Sara feared, Vincent was facing her, his arm resting on the back of the seat, his eyes burning.

"If you have led us..."

"I know," she interrupted, meeting his stare and feeling every nerve in her body tingling, "you'll kill me and make it painful." Turning away, she went back to watching for Margret, regretting talking back to him, still feeling his eyes on her. Thankfully, she saw Margret coming out of the building, carrying something in her hands.

"I got a couple of maps," Margret announced as she got in the car and she handed one to Vincent, "and there is an island out there," she said, holding another one up. Sara leaned forward as Margret unfolded it and pointed to a shape in the middle of the ocean.

"It's a vacation island. Half is open to the public and the other," Margret lowered her voice, "is now private." She jerked her head back towards the building. "They said that ten years ago a rich old guy was able to buy out a family who owned a lot of land on the other side of the island, and he's been buying ever since."

Vincent's hand gripped the steering wheel. "That would be a good place to hide out. How do we get there?"

"There's a public ferry; the last one leaves in an hour, but they told me we'd better get there because it's usually packed with people going back to their rentals for the night."

Vincent turned in his seat, his eyes only skimming Sara as he looked out the window and not saying a word as he backed the car onto the road. She glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned to the front. His eyes flicked and met hers for just a second, it was long enough for Sara to regret making the deal with him.

He drove slowly through town, going with the flow of traffic. Sara could smell the salt in the air and could hear the seagulls crying as they flew. When the car turned, the ocean came into view. It was the very first time Sara had ever seen one. Her eyes went wide as the water and sky melted together on the horizon. The car went down the hill that led to the water.

At the chain link fence, ten cars were already waiting for the ferry. Vincent stopped behind a bright red SUV where heads of different sizes were just visible through the darkened windows.

"Relax," Margret said, looking over her shoulder at Sara. "We'll get there."

Sara tried, but every muscle in her body was jittery, and the seat felt hard against her back, it took her complete concentration to keep still. She looked at the water, and in the distance, she could see a large white shape coming towards them. As it came closer, she could see it was a large ship.

It looked like a house to Sara, three stories tall, the top being a small square set on top of a larger floor. An open area surrounded an enclosure in the middle, below it, cars were packed bumper-to-bumper, five wide and six long, leaving only enough room between them for one car door to open at a time. And in the middle of the frozen traffic jam was a double staircase leading to the floors above.

A deep horn sounded as the boat approached, butting against the edge of the dock. The railing lifted, and the cars drove slowly from the boat. A man pushed the gate that blocked the other side of the road to allow the cars to leave. Sara watched as they left for unknown destinations after a day on the island.

The last of the returning cars passed, and the gate closed. Minutes went by, and Sara watched as the men went around the ship, preparing it for its next trip. When the gate opened, Sara's heart began to race; too slowly the cars began to move forward.

Men stood around the boat and waved the cars onto the floating parking lot one by one, pointing to where they were to park. Signs hung from the ceiling instructing they were not to leave their cars until all were boarded, to turn off their engines, and refreshments could be found upstairs in the café.

Vincent followed the attendant's hand signals, pulling in between two yellow lines, cutting the engine. Eric's pull was so strong in Sara's stomach that it felt as if it was being torn out.

Sara thought it took forever for the ship to move, but finally the low bellow came from above, and she felt movement. Car doors began to swing open around the Nova as families started to move about. Vincent and Margret sat still, not making a move to leave the car.

"Over there," Vincent whispered, jerking his head to the left. Sara looked over to see a man dressed in the ferry's uniform walking slowly a few cars away. "Can you smell that?" he asked Margret as a breeze came into the car.

"Vampire," Margret said under her breath.

Sara looked closer at the man, breathing in through her nose. He looked like the other people who were milling around. Most, like him, were wearing sunglasses. She inhaled again but still didn't smell anything except saltwater and car exhaust. "What do they smell like?" Sara whispered, leaning forward.

"Nothing," Margret said, "We don't have a smell. Humans don't notice because they focus only on the strongest scents."

"Mochan smelled like death," Sara muttered.

"That's because of the experiments he did on himself," Vincent said as he leaned back against his seat and put his hands behind his head as if he were taking a nap. "There's more than that one; they're all over." He turned his head and looked at Sara; she leaned back into her seat to get away from him.

"What do you think he's doing?" Margret asked, relaxing. "Looking for us?"

"Don't know, but let's not attract attention." He paused and looked around. "It's a good place to watch for unwelcome visitors, though."

The minutes went by as the man kept walking, disappearing around the staircase, only to reappear a few seconds later to walk back between the cars. He acted like any other person doing their job, smiling and nodding at the passengers as they passed by him.

Every few minutes Margret or Vincent said they'd spotted another, but Sara didn't know which person they were talking about, a passenger or an employee.

"That's five," Vincent said. "We're in the right place."

"I think they're looking for a meal," Margret said. "Did you notice how they slowed when they walked by a human?"

"I saw that, they're getting hungry." Vincent snorted, "Welcome aboard the Sushi Cruise."

"Won't they smell us?" Sara asked.

"If we stay in the car..." Margret answered.

"Let's roll up the windows," Vincent interrupted.

"It's going to get warm in here," Margret mumbled as she cranked the handle, the window slowly rising.

"Then leave yours open a crack, but if they get too close..."

Sara watched as best as she could from the backseat, her eyes darting at anything that moved beyond the windows. The heat inside the car was building quickly; sweat was already beading across her forehead and under her nose. Her skin was glued to her shirt, which stuck to the car's seat. In front of her Vincent and Margaret were both still, as if they were asleep, but she knew they were watching.

Slowly she could see a dark form growing in the distance. Trees began to take shape as the island came into view. Her stomach rolled and lurched, and she didn't know if it was from being on the water or from Eric's pull. The low horn sounded, and Vincent stirred in his seat, looking in his mirror, his eyes meeting hers.

For a second they locked on to each other, but he was the one who looked away, turning his attention to something else. Margret sat up and leaned over towards Vincent, showing him the map. Sara could see her finger moving slowly across the paper.

One by one, a ferry employee directed the cars off the boat. Sara didn't know if they were human or vampire, and neither Vincent nor Margret said. The traffic moved slowly as they made their way away from the water.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep," Margret said as they left the harbor town full of visitors. "We have a while before we're even close, and we still have to find a way in."

Sara looked in the rearview mirror; no eyes met hers. She nodded and leaned her head against the back of the seat, not expecting to fall asleep. Just before she closed her eyes, they gazed upon a billboard. A blonde woman smiled out to the world wearing a white wedding gown.

## Chapter 9

Sara looked out the small church window, feeling her heart beat aggressively against her chest as if it was trying to pound its way into her throat. Twenty cars sat in the church's parking lot between the white painted lines, as the tree branches in the nearby cemetery swayed in the gentle breeze as if beckoning her to come out. Cars drove by the church, and the small town of Oak Creek went about its Saturday business.

There was a dainty knock, then the sound of the door opening. "Sara," her mother's voice said happily, "we're ready."

Sara turned and met her mother's blue eyes. "I can't do this," she whispered.

"Yes, you can," her mother replied, closing the door.

"No, I can't."

"Sara, take a breath," her mother ordered as she walked towards her daughter. "Feel better?" she asked after Sara blew out a lung full of air.

"No."

"Honey, it's just jitters, every woman has them on her wedding day. I did."

Sara's voice quivered, fighting her emotions "I can't do this to him."

"Well, you're going to break his heart if you don't get your butt out there; everyone is waiting."

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," Sara cried. "I don't want to make him feel like he has to."

"You and Matt have been engaged since last year and were already planning your wedding. Just because it's sooner than originally planned doesn't mean anything. Matt loves you, and he wants to marry you."

"But everyone knows I'm pregnant," Sara snapped, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Nobody cares. They all know you were already planning on getting married." She paused then added, "I was pregnant with your sister when I married your father."

"Yeah, a whole month, you didn't even know. I'm four months."

The older woman walked over to the full-length mirror and began smoothing her royal blue dress. Sara watched, knowing it was a habit her mother had when she didn't know what to say. When the nonexistent wrinkles were gone, her mother's hands went to her head, and her fingers began to pick at the greying blonde hair before they adjusted her little white hat, making sure the white flowers were still in place.

"Mom," Sara said softly.

The woman stopped and met her daughter's eyes. "You can be the one to tell him." She turned and walked towards the door. Looking back at Sara, she added, "I wish you wouldn't let your sister's opinions affect you." Opening the door, she went out into the hallway, softly closing it behind her.

Sara rolled her eyes and closed them. Only a few seconds went by before there was another light knock at the door. Sara took a breath, opened her eyes, and went to it. She grabbed the knob and turned; it wouldn't move.

"Sara," Matt's deep voice came from the other side and she heard a slight hint of worry within it. "Is everything all right?"

"No, Matt."

"It's not the baby, is it?"

"Yes and no." She took a breath, "I can't marry you."

"What?" he replied, slightly laughing, "Why not?"

"Because of the baby. I don't want you to hate me because you had to marry me."

"Sara, I know I don't have to marry you," Matt said firmly, then softly he added, "I want to marry you because I love you."

There was whispering on Matt's side of the door.

"Sara, I asked you to marry me last year." He paused. "Honestly, I'm happy you got pregnant. I don't think I could wait another year to have you to myself."

"You're not going to have me to yourself..."

"Yes, I will." His voice went into a purr, "Years of holding you while you sleep and waking up with you next to me every morning."

"And what about three a.m. feedings?" she muttered, trying not to cry.

"Well, I'm not going to be happy about sharing you, but as long as I get to hold you while you fall back to sleep, I'll cope."

"Matt, I..."

"If your ass is not strolling down that aisle in five minutes, I'll carry you," Matt ordered in a gentle voice. She heard his footsteps walking away, growing fainter.

Sara stepped back from the door seconds before someone knocked. It opened, and she met her father's brown eyes; her mother standing just behind him, trying to hide a smile.

Her father gave her his big grin, showing off his crooked, but white front teeth. "I think he means it, Sugar," he said, laughing as he held out his hand. "Let's not do this caveman style. I don't think Reverend Brown would appreciate it, let alone your sister."

Smiling, she took her father's hand, and he pulled her into a hug. She buried her face into his wide chest, wishing she was only a kid again. Even in his freshly cleaned and pressed suit, she inhaled the aroma of grass and dirt, the smell of a farmer that would never wash from his skin.

When he pulled away, Sara saw her mom scamper around the corner towards the dark wooden doors that led into the chapel. Her father gave her nose a gentle pinch just before he pulled her veil over her face. He took her arm, lacing it between his and his body, giving her hand a gentle pat, and slowly he led her from the room.

They walked side-by-side around the corner, her shoes echoing against the floor, to her ears booming through the small building. Sara looked straight ahead through the sheer white fabric.

The doors to the chapel were now wide open and in the bright vaulted room, she could see the dark wood pews her mother had decorated with white flowers and blue bows, but most were empty except for the front five rows where friends and family now stood from their seats looking back at her.

And there Matt stood with Greg and his half-brother Ray, waiting for her. Next to him, smiling, was the old reverend, who had seemed just as old when Sara was only ten. On the reverend's right stood Sara's bridesmaids, her best friend Kerry from high school and her sister; Robin had stopped at nothing to be included in the wedding; claiming it was what sisters did for each other.

Matt's usual wild curls were tamed by the fresh cut and gel. He was so handsome in the dark suit he was wearing that it made Sara's heart knock against her chest. Her father must have felt it because she felt his arm muscles tighten, pulling her arm closer to his body as if he were afraid to let her go.

As she walked with her father through the doors and down the aisle, everyone smiled as they watched her. She kept looking ahead, afraid that if she took her eyes off Matt he would disappear. From the corner of her eye, Sara watched as her mother dabbed a white handkerchief to her eyes.

Her father stopped in front of the reverend and Matt stepped forward. Sara's dad lifted her hand and kissed it.

Looking through the veil at her father, she watched his face turn into stone. She could see it in his eyes that his heart was breaking: he was losing his little girl. He gave her hand slowly over to Matt, whose smile instantly melted away all of the sorrow her father's pain had caused. Sara saw her father step away, walking the few steps to where her mother sat. The reverend came forward and began to speak. Sara looked at him, then back at Matt and could only stare at the man who was holding her hand.

"You may now kiss the bride," Reverend Brown said.

Sara saw Matt reach up and lift the veil and she raised her face to meet his as he leaned down, his arms going around her waist, pulling her close to him. "I promise I will give you the wedding of your dreams," he whispered. Her eyes closed as she felt his breath against her lips an instant before his met hers, and all of his love she could feel as he kissed her.

Too soon he pulled away and she opened her eyes only to find Vincent's staring back at her, the silver burning brightly. She gasped and took a step back. He grabbed her, his face full of hatred, raising his arm, and in his hand was a wooden stake he drove into her chest.

Sara woke gasping for breath, throwing her arms up to block Vincent's blow, but he wasn't there. Nobody sat in the seats in front of her, and the windows were up as if to protect her from the night. Sitting up, she reached for the handle on the side of the front seat. She lifted it, pushing the back of the seat forward. With the same hand, she opened the car door. A cold whisper of a breeze washed over her hot, sweaty face and a chill raced over her as she cooled. Slowly she got out, feeling her tight muscles loosen and joints crack.

Crickets chirped from somewhere nearby, and a few bird whistles disrupted the song. Taking deep breaths, she fought to get the dream out of her mind. It did more than frighten her; it pissed her off. Her wedding was one of the happiest days in her life, and without him knowing it, Vincent had tainted it.

Sara looked around: A silvery light cast by the moon gave her a glimpse of the surroundings. In front of the car were only trees; behind it, the grass and brush looked as if months ago some kind of monster had forced its way through, then the path disappeared as it went around the giant trees the monster couldn't knock down.

Vincent and Margret were nowhere to be seen. She was about to call out to them but decided it may not be a good idea. Instead, she looked up at the almost full moon hanging above her. Kicking off her shoes, she raised her arms to it.

"Blessed Mother, Mother of us all, hear my call!" she said in a low voice. "I ask for your blessing and guidance. I know my fate has been sealed and I accept it, knowing I will join my family in the Summerland." She took a deep breath. "But my son is young and pure. I ask that you help me save him from the horrors none of us humans had thought real. For reasons only you have the answers to, you have given my son and me this knowledge. Please protect him so he will be able to use this knowledge for the destiny you have placed before him. I have been led here, to my son, and I ask that you guide my spirit and soul as I finish this task you have bestowed upon me."

With her arms raised, she stood, staring at the moon, thinking about her love for her son. Her arms began to get heavy as if she herself was holding the moon above her head.

Pinpricks shot through her muscles, and the ache traveled down into her neck, back, and legs. She could envision the weight of the moon pushing her feet into the ground beneath her.

Fighting against her body as it told her to put down her arms, she kept them raised. Suddenly the pain stopped, and her entire body felt as light as air. All of the tiredness that coursed through her body was now gone.

"Thank you, Mother, for your blessing. Blessed Be," she said, lowering her arms, her body now full of energy. The tears in her eyes magnified the moon's light brightly back at her.

After putting her shoes back on, she wiped the dew that had just begun to settle on the hood of the car before she sat down. The minutes went slowly by as she waited, her feet resting on the silver bumper. A faint snap of a twig to her left made her turn. Vincent came out from the trees alone, his black jeans smudged with dirt, and pieces of grass dangled from his shoestrings. His silver eyes narrowed as they stared at her, reflecting the moonlight, his lips stretched over his teeth. Sara's heart jumped as she looked at him. She could tell he was in the mood to kill.

His steps slowed and his body relaxed, but his eyes did not leave hers and Sara felt he was stalking her, and primal instinct made her keep her eyes on him, fearing he would attack at any second. Her muscles tensed, ready to leap from the car.

"We're in the right place, but we have a couple of small problems," he said calmly when he was a few steps away.

"And what are those?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"First, I think the vampires on the ferry may have noticed us. After you fell asleep, we had to do some extra driving. One of them followed us to the next town, but drove off when we stopped at a motel."

"And second?"

"There's a lot here. More than I expected." He sat on the other side of the car hood, one tennis shoe on the bumper. "I think Margret is right. With the number of vampires walking around, Mochan will be able to take the Sirelords without much of a fight."

Sara felt herself lean away from him; he was close enough to be able to grab her. "Where is Margret?" she asked, trying not to sound panicked.

Vincent looked back towards the trees. "We separated to cover more ground. I found a way in, but she wanted another. She thought it was just too convenient."

"A way into what?"

"Mochan's house, if you can call it that. It's a damn fortress." Vincent pushed himself higher on the hood, both feet now on the bumper. "He's rebuilt the foundation and added more to the entire thing. If we do get in there, it's going to be a maze."

Sara sat in silence, trying to keep her heart from pounding too hard, praying Margret would hurry, but fearing something had happened to her.

"You are different," Vincent said after a few seconds. "I can hear your heart. It still beats like a human's, changing rhythm when you're nervous, and you still smell like a human. If it wasn't for your eyes, you could still be one."

"Sorry, I'm such a disappointment."

His head moved and he met her eyes, his narrowing. They darted away after a second to look back at the trees. A few minutes of silence followed. "Shit," he said hitting his fists against the car. Sara flinched, her body tensing for an attack.

Sliding down the hood to his feet, he said, "I don't care if she isn't back. We don't have the time."

Sara lost sight of him when he walked into the woods. Two loud snaps followed, echoing throughout the forest. She jumped off the car, putting it between her and the direction Vincent went. He came out a few seconds later carrying two long branches, their ends splintered from being torn from their tree. As he walked, he pulled the smaller twigs off. Sara took a step back, ready to run.

"I'm not going to use them on you, not yet, at least," he added with a snicker. "But we have to get ready." He dropped the branches next to the car, "I didn't have enough time to make more before we left, and three isn't going to be enough." He looked at her, "But before we cut some stakes, you need to learn a few things."

Vincent walked along the side of the car, stopping at the trunk, opening it. His body disappeared behind the raised lid, but she could hear things moving around. A few seconds later, he reappeared and walked away from the car, stopping a few yards away. "I'm waiting," he growled.

She walked towards him, on her guard. When she was at the back of the car, he threw something at her. She caught it; it was a black plastic ice scraper.

Sara held it in front of her. "And what am I supposed to do with this, scrape their hides?"

"Funny," he said. "Pretend it's a stake. Now try to kill me."

"Now who's the one joking?"

"Just do it."

She looked at him, not moving.

"If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already," Vincent said.

Slowly she went towards him. When she was close enough, she gave him a half-hearted jab. He knocked her hand away; the scraper flew from her grip. She felt and heard something in her wrist pop.

"Again, hold it tighter," he said, picking up the scraper and tossing it at her.

A pinprick of pain went through her fingers as she held the piece of plastic. Slowly she went again, cautious and terrified of being so close, always waiting for him to attack. Repeatedly he knocked her hand away, but she kept hold of the scraper, even though the skin and bones in her wrist were beginning to throb.

"Some vampire you are," he laughed. "You're the weakest one I've ever met, you're too human. You need to be faster, and put some muscle behind it, or they're going to rip your heart out."

Sara sped up, but he matched her, grabbing her wrist, his long fingers squeezing. When he dropped it, she tried again. Sweat rose on her forehead, and her heart pounded. She came close a few times, only to have him push her away.

"Faster!" he snarled.

Sara tried again; he grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Vincent was behind her, his hand holding a fist full of her hair; the other dropped her wrist, and his arm went across her chest, his hand on her throat, squeezing.

"Another way to kill: Rip their throats open," he whispered in her ear. "It's slower, and they could still kill you, but if you're quick enough, you could stake them." His breath felt hot against her exposed neck, and she felt something sharp graze across it. Sara waited for his teeth to sink into her flesh.

His hand moved from her throat to her lips. A finger parted them; she could feel it skim across her teeth. His chest jerked against her as he chuckled, his finger pressing against one. "Not going to be able to tear out any throats with those tiny things. You'd do better with some of those fake fangs." His grip released as he pushed her away, making her stumble.

Involuntarily her tongue glided over her teeth, lingering on the one he touched, it felt longer and sharper than she remembered.

"Again," he ordered.

She went after him, and again he grabbed her, holding her against his body. "Next time, try a little harder to get away," he said as he shoved her. "There's no way you can fight off a vampire if you move that slow," he said, his eyes mocking. "They'll snap you like a twig."

Trying not to let her anger control her, she went after him only to be pushed away. She tried different approaches and changed angles at the last minute until finally, she hit his chest, but his eyes laughed at her and his lips fought a smile as he grabbed her wrist, twisting her around. Instead of fighting, she went into it and turned back, hitting him. The force made him take a step back.

He smirked as he rubbed the spot she had hit. "You're finally getting it," he said, "but don't think it will save you when the time comes."

"As long as Eric is safe, I'm not going to fight you. I will stand there and let you kill me."

"Do you really mean that? Or are you planning to run? That would be more fun."

"Run where? You will hunt me down until I'm dead, or my son. I'm not that stupid."

"If you make it out of there, we'll see what you'll do. I can already hear you begging."

"Fuck off, Vincent." She threw the ice scraper at him and turned to walk away.

His arms went around her, holding her in a bear hug, one around her stomach, pinning her arms at her sides, the other across her chest, his hand around her throat, fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to tilt her head.

"I could do it right now," he breathed into her neck.

She felt her body began to shake; shivers ran over her skin.

"Which would you prefer? A stake, cut your head off, or me to drain you? I'm always hungry after a battle."

"Whatever. Just wait until Eric is safe. And don't let him see," she said as calmly as she could, and tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

Sara felt his breath on her neck and his teeth brush against her skin, which sent shivers through her body.

"How about a little taste? You let Margret have some."

"You can have your fill when this is done." She tried to keep her voice from shaking, putting all of her anger in it. She felt her hair moving as he exhaled into it; the heat caused her scalp to tingle as goosebumps rose. His grip tightened again, making it harder for her to breathe. The heat from his body caressed her back, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath, his muscles tightening and relaxing with each movement he made; she could feel it all.

Vincent's hand slid from her throat, brushing her hair away from her neck. She could feel his nose rub against the back of her head as he moved, breathing in. Using the side of his face, he made her head move, exposing the other side of her neck, his hand holding onto her shoulder, his moist lips grazed along her ear and down the side of her neck.

Sara's body wanted to take a deep breath. His touch caused every inch of her skin to feel electrified. At that moment she didn't care he could kill her at any time. His lips started to part against her skin, and a breath left his body. He pushed her way.

Stumbling, she turned to face him, her body taking in a deep breath, and she felt a wave of dizziness. He was walking away towards the car.

"We have stakes to make," he said under his breath, bending over into the trunk, and when he stood Sara saw the silver glint of knife blades as he went to the branches, snaps echoing around her as he took out his anger on the wood.

Slowly she walked to where he sat, leaning against the car's front fender. Without looking at her, he tossed a knife and a piece of wood in her direction. They landed a few inches from her tennis shoe. In silence, he started to strip the bark, carving the wood straight and into a point.

Sara slid down the side of the car until she was sitting on the ground, the back tire's cold hubcap pressing into her back and the remains of the forest digging into her butt. Copying what she saw him doing, she began to create a stake, possibly the one that would kill her.

She looked up when the crickets and other night creatures went silent.

"It's about time," Vincent said.

"Are you all right?" Margret asked as she walked out of the line of trees to Sara's right.

"Fine," Sara answered, relieved Margret was back.

Margret searched her eyes and then looked at Vincent.

He met her gaze. "She's still alive," he said, and then looked at Sara, "but she's not going to last five minutes. We need to figure out a way to add to her protection; I want to be the one to kill her."

"We'll think of something. Got another knife?" Margret asked.

"In the trunk."

After Margret retrieved one, she sat between the two and helped Sara shape her sticks into smooth, sharp stakes.

## Chapter 10

As the moon began its descent to the horizon, it made the trees' shadows grow longer. Slices of green wood lay scattered on the ground beside the black car. Vincent still leaned against it, using a rock to smooth the ends of the stakes into sharper points, while Sara and Margret sat on the hood.

"That's seven each for us unless you're going to let Sara carry a couple," Margret said, referring to the finished stakes and knives that were lying on the hood of the car.

He shook his head.

"Then how is she going to defend herself?"

"I've been thinking about that," Vincent said as he stood, adding the last stake to the pile. He bent down, and the sound of metal scraping made the women look towards him. When he stood, his body looked leaner in the black t-shirt and dimming moonlight. Margret slid off the car, standing at the front fender and watched Vincent as he walked towards the back. Crouching down again, the sounds of metal echoed from the car once more. He walked back to them carrying something in his hands.

"I want these back," he said as he held out two hubcaps towards Sara.

"What am I going to do with these?" she asked.

"Good thinking," Margret said, taking the disks from him. "Got anything to tie with?" As she was saying this, Vincent was already at the back of the car, going through the trunk. A few seconds later, he came back with a thin white rope and handed it to Margret.

"Get your shirt off," Margret said to Sara, placing one of the caps on the car.

Sara slowly scooted off the hood. "What are you going to do?" she asked, turning her back to Vincent to look at Margret.

"Make you a suit of armor," Margret said, grinning. "One in the front and one in the back. It's not going to be strong, but it'll give your chest some protection. Now get your shirt off."

Sara pulled the t-shirt over her head and shivered when the cool early morning air touched her bare skin.

"But what about her neck and the rest of her?" Vincent asked, coming up behind Sara. "She won't stand a chance if they catch her."

Margret shook her head. "There's no time. We have to get in there before the sun rises; we need the shadows," she said as she threaded the rope through the small spokes of one hubcap. "Vincent, a little help."

He took the other from the car, and Sara felt the cold metal touch her back, his warm hands brushing against her skin. Tingling waves spread out from where his touch grazed her. Margret finished tying the rope to the hubcap and placed it against Sara's chest. The rope passed back and forth, wrapping around her body and the metal spokes.

Margret stood back and looked at Sara's body armor. "I hope the rope holds. Is it too tight?" she asked.

Sara moved her arms, "Not really."

"But will it work?" Vincent asked, his voice having a hint of laughter hidden within.

Sara felt something hit the disk on her back, knocking her forward into Margret. She felt the impact spread across her skin, radiating in a circle.

"Vincent, you asshole!" Margret yelled.

"What? We had to make sure it would hold up to a blow," Vincent said, laughing, "but they're going to hit a lot harder than that."

Sara turned around, Vincent's lips were in an evil smile, but as she looked at him the amusement left his eyes, and his lips wavered. In his hand, he held a stake, its tip blunt.

His eyes flickered quickly away. "It's only a small dent. But they won't take too many hits." He glanced at Sara and then to Margret. "We should leave her here. Lock her in the trunk."

"There's no way we'll be able to find her son in that place," Margret shouted, glaring at Vincent. As she helped Sara pull her shirt over the hubcaps, she continued, "We'd be wandering around for hours, only to get caught. Let's get moving," she said. "And no more fucking around," she added, looking at Vincent.

He turned away and slid stakes and two knives between his belt and jeans. Margret followed his lead, taking the last knife. Sara's belt, left empty.

They moved through the dark, the trees looking like giants reaching for the moon as it ran away from them. Margret walked ahead quickly in silence, but Sara stepped on branches, causing snaps to echo through the trees. Vincent was silent as he walked behind Sara, but she could still feel him. The pain in her back was a reminder of what he was capable of, and the knowledge of the stakes he carried made her wish she had eyes in the back of her head.

As they went deeper into the woods, their pace quickened. "Think of floating," Margret said after Sara stepped on a large branch, causing a loud snap to boom around them. "Don't think about your feet touching the ground."

Sara tried to forget about Vincent behind her and instead thought of having wings on her shoes like the messenger Hermes from Greek mythology. Step by step, less noise came from under her feet.

Margret slowed to a stop at the tree line. Sara peeked through the leaves and saw a large three-story building. It used to be a mansion, before the remodeling, now looked like a giant square.

Windows used to be on the bottom floor but now they were covered with bricks; those on the second were at least ten feet above the ground. The paint was a different shade above the heavy doors, evidence of the removal of porches and overhangs. She scanned around the building; open ground lay between it and them, deep ruts made from heavy equipment gouged the ground.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and met Margret's eyes. Following where her finger pointed, Sara could see small mounds of dirt a bulldozer had left around the landscape. Crouching down, the group ran from mound to mound towards the building, stopping to scan for anyone who may be watching.

The sun's first light peeked through the trees, casting its glow over the ground behind them; the shadow of the building gave them cover as they went around the base. Sara could feel the grey cement beneath her fingers, its hard smooth texture telling her it had been there for a few weeks, making the foundation stronger than it had been.

There was a mound of discarded red bricks piled against the wall, almost reaching the window above. Vincent slowed, and a low growl left his throat, but Margret turned back and shook her head, continuing along the wall. She waved them towards her after she peeked around the corner.

Quickly walking a few feet, Margret stopped and pointed at the ground where Sara noticed a depression next to the building.

A different shade cement, and the outlines of cinder blocks, indicated a flaw, but the few black stones scattered on the ground Sara instantly recognized as pieces of coal. This was where the coal chute used to be, and would lead right into the basement.

Vincent came forward, kicking at the blocks. The cement cracked, and a few pieces crumbled to the ground. With the next blow, they buckled in. Sara cringed from the dull cracking sound, and looked around, fearing it was heard. Again he kicked and more crumbled away. Two more hits and the blocks broke into clumps, falling into the building. Margret pulled the remaining chunks away, widening the hole into a two-foot square, Vincent disappeared into it a few seconds later.

Sara felt the air leave her body when Margret signaled her to the hole. Making herself take a breath, she went to it, sat down in the dirt, and stuck her feet into the dark. She felt them grabbed and her body pulled downwards.

"You have to be quicker!" Vincent whispered in her ear, keeping her on her feet as she heard Margret come down right behind her.

As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark, she saw two pairs of silver floating on either side of her, marking where the vampires stood. She didn't want to, but she imagined her eyes were streaks of silver instead. Slowly, she began to make out shapes that surrounded her; the room was no bigger than a walk-in closet.

Margret and Vincent's bodies slowly materialized, them and everything else outlined in silver. Vincent began to move towards the faint light that came into the room, Margret and Sara following. He stopped next to a metal door that was leaning against the wall, half of it blocking the entrance.

"Which way to your son?" Margret whispered behind her.

Sara closed her eyes and felt the pull, stronger than ever. "To the left."

Vincent squeezed between the wall and the door, and Sara followed with Margret bringing up the rear. They stepped out into a narrow passageway, a space a little wider than the room.

The smell that came at Sara made her cringe; it was of decay and old feces. Swallowing hard, fighting against her urge to puke, she followed Vincent as he crouched against the wall, walking quickly along it.

They slowed as they approached another passageway, where a single light bulb hung from the ceiling; more dotted the air down, each marking a crossing.

Vincent stopped and looked down the hall and when he was confident it was clear, he moved on. At the next crossing, Sara tapped his shoulder. When he looked back, his eyes tightening, as she pointed to the right. He nodded and went down the hall.

The deeper under the building they went, the more lost Sara felt, but Eric was getting closer. At every crossing, Vincent looked in both directions, as if he were at a stop sign, checking for traffic. Sara wanted to push him, she felt the pull towards her son, and the slow pace was tearing her stomach out.

Along each section three metal doors were placed into the cement, and Sara peeked through a few as they made their way along, only to realize each one opened to a room the same size as the one they had started, each looking as if they were created to be cells, with evidence someone had once lived inside.

The silence became so loud that Sara's ears began to make their own noise, a humming and buzzing getting so loud, she feared that she wouldn't hear anything in the dark. But she heard the voices that made them all freeze. They were in front of them, around a corner, making their way towards them.

"Back," Vincent whispered, pushing Sara. When she got to the junction they had just passed, she felt something grab the back of her shirt, then Vincent's voice, "In here."

He pulled her around the corner and she spun into him, finding herself looking in his eyes, but just above his shoulder, she noticed two silver dots. Instinctively, she grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands. Using her weight, she pulled him towards her as she let herself fall to the floor. She caught him off guard and took him down with her.

As they hit, she felt his weight land on her chest, pushing the air from her. There was a flash of silver in the air above them, where Vincent's head had been. She looked up and saw Margret, upside down, turn, her arm moving in a blur. There was a thump and muffled grunt, followed by the sound of something metal hitting the floor.

"Good job," Margret whispered then added, "Vincent, she just saved your head."

Sara met his eyes, and the green within the silver were fractures, like cracks in ice. He quickly got to his feet, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up. She felt something hard and cold pressed between their hands. When he took his away, he had left a tiny pocketknife, no bigger than her finger. She looked at him as he went back to the entrance, not knowing if it was his way of thanking her or making fun. Without thinking, she reached behind and slid it between her belt and loop.

Sara turned and looked down at the body on the floor, watching as Margret put a foot on the man's chest, just below the stake, and pulled it from his body, it making a sucking sound as it came free. Dark liquid spread out from the gaping hole and dripped from the tip of the stake. Before standing, Margret wiped the blood onto the dead vampire's clothes and picked up the silver sword lying next to his body.

"They heard," Vincent whispered.

Sara could hear the whispers of hurried footsteps coming towards them. Vincent and Margret stood ready, pressing their bodies against both sides of the wall. Margret held the dead vampire's sword in her hand, its blade against her leg.

"Check down there," a voice called out.

Sara tried to press her body closer to the wall as the footsteps got louder.

As soon as the man appeared, the sword Margret was holding sliced through the air. A head fell to the floor with a thump, and it rolled a few feet, disappearing around the corner. Blood squirted up from the body as it fell forward, and Vincent caught the vampire's sword before it hit the floor. Sara swallowed a scream as the blood flowed like a stream from the headless body towards her feet.

She was moving; Margret pulling her by the arm down the hall. Sara knew it was only a matter of time before someone found the two bodies. Pushing everything from her mind, she focused on Eric. They were still heading in the right direction; his pull was getting stronger.

A light hung from the ceiling, shadowed bodies bobbed on the far wall, their solid owners waiting around the corner. Slowly the three of them approached with their backs against the wall.

Sara counted the shadows. "Four," she whispered, holding up her fingers.

Margret nodded and looked at Vincent. They gave each other a nod and dashed around the corner.

Sara watched six shadows dance. It looked like a puppet show; swords swiped the air, hitting each other with clangs. Long thin shadows jabbed into bodies, and heads toppled from their perches, but Sara didn't know whose was falling to the floor.

She heard the scrape of wood on stone. Spinning around, she saw a man running towards her, his bright silver eyes focused on her, and a long piece of wood aimed at her chest. She felt the shaft hit. There was a thud as wood hit metal, the impact knocked her backward, and she fell to the dirty stone floor, her breath knocked out; her chest feeling caved in.

A vampire stood above her, his broad body blocking the hallway. His arms rose over his head, ready to push the long and narrow piece of wood into her chest. Her eyes caught a flash of silver that ended in the vampire's thick throat. Vincent leaped over her and knocked the vampire to the floor. Pulling a stake from his belt, he plunged it into the vampire's chest. It tried to scream, but only a gurgle escaped around the knife in its throat.

The vampire stopped moving as Sara got to her feet. Vincent pulled the knife and stake from the body, handing them to her. "We're even," he said.

"I'm not keeping track," she snapped. "I only want my son," she added as she tucked the weapons under her belt.

He met her eyes. "And I want to be the one to kill you."

The faint sound of a bell ringing from somewhere above made them freeze.

"We got to hurry," Vincent said. "Which way?"

Sara pointed towards the left, "He's down there."

Loud footsteps echoed above their heads. Muffled shouts and clanging metal followed. Watching the shadows, they quickly made their way deeper under the building. They heard voices, barking orders.

"It sounds like they think we're after Mochan," Margret said. "They're still above us."

"Let's hope that's what they keep thinking," Vincent replied. "We'll get to him later."

Sara followed behind, then stopped short. "No, he's in here," she said as she stepped back and pulled on a wooden door.

"Sara!" Margret tried to stop her, but Sara already had the door open.

A strong odor engulfed her, causing her to gag. Vincent pulled her away, pinning her against the wall. "Wait," he ordered and looked into the room.

"Oh, God," Margret mouthed.

Sara felt her stomach drop and time began to move in slow motion. Using all of her strength, she pushed Vincent away. He fell against the opposite wall, and before he bounced back she was through the door, Margret's fingers were only able to brush against the back of her shirt.

The room opened up into a giant circle and Sara came to a stop just a few yards into it. Stone walls climbed twenty feet, and another room stood above, giving full view to the room below. A stone staircase followed the curvature of the wall, but what made Sara stop was the five wooden pillars in the room. They stood ten feet tall and were as wide as telephone poles; the ground around them was dark, and clouds of flies buzzed all around.

Hanging from three of the poles were the half-naked bodies of young men, each no older than sixteen. They sat on their knees, their arms stretched above them, their wrists tied, each bound to the poles with a thick rope. Their pants were filthy and torn, bodies streaked with dirt, and their heads hung so their chins rested on their chests.

Sara searched their faces. Eric's body dangled from the ropes at the farthest pole. He was still and lifeless. She ran across the room towards him.

"Eric?" she cried as she went to the ground, her knees sliding against the stone floor. As she touched his soiled face, his eyes slowly moved under their lids. "Eric!"

His eyes sprung open, and he looked at her. "Mom?"

"Thank the Goddess," she cried and kissed his cheek.

"But you're dead," he whispered. "I saw him kill you."

"Let's get you out of here." She pulled out Vincent's knife from her belt and stood, sawing at the ropes. One by one his arms dropped, and he sat on his butt. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her son, his went weakly around her back.

As she tried to stand, helping him to his feet, he suddenly pushed her away. "He told me, I saw you, you're dead."

"Eric, we have to get out of here." She took his hand and tried to pull him up.

"I saw him bite you. He threw you out of the car," he said, trying to pull his hand from her.

She tried again, but he wouldn't stand. "Come on, kid, it's me. Let's go."

"He's a vampire. Everyone here is. He wants me to become one. He made me watch him kill."

"Eric! We have to go."

He looked up at her, and when their eyes met. He screamed, "You're one!" He yanked his arm from her and started to scoot away.

She fell to the ground and took his face gently between her hands. Not taking her eyes off his, even when she saw his anger and fear, she said, "That doesn't matter right now. What does is getting you out of here."

"Are you going to turn or kill me?" His voice sounding as it did when he was five.

"I'm here to save you. I could never kill you or allow you to be changed. I love you too much. I'll give my life to keep you safe."

A rock bounced against the stone floor, echoing against the walls. Sara looked up and saw a man walking down the steps, other people of various shapes and sizes followed a few paces behind, and all were wearing what looked like chainmail and carrying a sword. Even more stood around the top of the wall holding weapons, looking down at her.

The first man who came down the steps wore a bright gold chest plate that curved up and around his neck, and Sara's eyes locked on his face. It was the man who took her son.

Eric grabbed on to her, squeezing. She wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close, while trying to push him behind her. The sound of shouting and fighting made her head turn. Armed vampires pushed Vincent and Margret into the room and filed in behind them, blocking their escape.

"Vincent and Margret," the old man's voice was merry as it echoed down into the chamber, "I wasn't surprised that you were spotted on the ferry, but imagine my amazement to find you down here. I thought you would come directly for me, I even left an easy way in. I went to all of the trouble to have a grand welcoming party waiting for you." His voice went hard, "But instead I find you down here like the rats you are, attacking my newest soldiers."

"Mochan, we're here for you, also," Vincent yelled as he and Margret were forced to their knees.

Mochan let out a long and loud sigh. "I don't think you will accomplish your task now."

"Why don't you take off your armor and fight me like a real vampire?"

Mochan laughed. "We'll see about that. If you're still around after I feed, I'll be more than happy to fight you."

Sara watched as Vincent and Margret were grabbed tighter, swords pressed against their throats.

Mochan reached the floor and looked around the room. "Oh, I see that you brought a human with you. Is she bait?" He paused and looked at Sara, then to Eric. "Oh my," he said, his voice full of awe, "I was told you were dead. Galen!" he yelled.

"Sir," a man stepped forward from the vampires who stood behind Vincent and Margret. Sara recognized him; he was with Mochan at her mother's house.

"You told me she was dead," Mochan said as he glared at the vampire.

"Sir, her body was gone," Galen said, trying to hide a hint of fear. "I thought she'd fallen into the water and the current had taken her."

"Well, as you can see, she's right here!" Mochan met her eyes, and a gasp of surprise left his throat. "And she's a vampire!" He walked towards Sara and grabbed her, pulling her to her feet. "How is it possible?" he asked, giving her a shake. "I drained you."

She dropped to the floor when he let her go. His fingers touched the wrist she had bitten; it still had red marks resembling teeth.

"You should be dead, but yet you are walking and talking, an impossible feat for a creation so young." He smiled happily, "So my blood has more power than I expected. Bring her," he said as he walked towards Vincent and Margret.

She was picked up from the ground, and heard Eric's voice faintly call to her. A hand removed the stake from her belt and checked her pockets for other weapons as she was carried towards Mochan. Fingers dug into her arms as they held her beside the old vampire.

He turned and looked her up and down. "So, you're here for your child."

Sara could smell the death and decay coming from his body. "Yes."

Mochan turned towards the boys, "That's why mothers don't make good vampires." Then he looked at Vincent and Margret, "Aren't you neglecting your duty, being the Sires' lap dogs and all. Didn't both of you take the vow to destroy all new creations? You've killed enough of mine already," he snarled. "I'm always making new to replace those you and others have killed. You do know how long each one takes, right? If it wasn't for you two, the Sires would be dead, and vampires would be gods again," he spat.

Mochan looked to Vincent, his voice softening, "If only you would've taken my offer all those years ago, we'd be sitting on the Sires' thrones, taking our pick of humans to feed on. But tell me, why spare this one?"

"Once her son is safe, I will kill her," Vincent said.

"Will you now?" Mochan made a clicking noise, waving his hand as if the action would erase Vincent's words. "I don't think you will be doing any more killing. Did she know of your plan to use then kill her?"

"That is the agreement she made with me. I would spare her life until her son is safe."

"She agreed to this, to let you kill her?" Mochan asked with surprise and then looked over to Sara. "You really made this deal with Vincent?"

Sara looked into his eyes, not holding back her anger. "Yes. To save my son and to kill the thing that took him!" she said, pulling against the hands that held her.

"Very interesting. I guess there is something to motherly love," he mumbled and sniffed the air around her. "You smell like a human, but with a hint of vampire, also. No wonder my soldiers thought you were human," he added under his breath. "Your eyes are vampire..."

He stopped in front of her and waved his hand and Sara felt the hands holding her arms release. Mochan's hand lashed out, his fingers going around her throat, his feeble-looking fingers squeezing.

Trying to fight back, she grabbed his arm with both of her hands, trying to get him to release.

He laughed at her struggles, "You're no vampire! You're too weak." His lips formed a smile, exposing his teeth. "I wonder..." he said as he pulled her towards him. His other hand came to her face, grabbing her chin, forcing her head to the side. She heard something in her neck pop. "How do you taste now."

Pain stabbed her neck as his fangs impaled her flesh. She tried to fight as he pulled her blood from her body, but his strength was impossible to fight. Her knees started to buckle, and as Mochan held her upright, she could only think she had failed her son, and he was going to watch her die yet again.

The pain ended abruptly. Mochan pulled away, a breath left him as he looked towards the ceiling, pushing her away. Sara fell to the ground like a rock; she barely had the strength to keep her eyes on him.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes blazing as he looked back down at her. "So sweet," he whispered, "and full of strength." He took a deep breath. "I have never tasted such pleasure before!" He turned and faced Vincent. "Have you tasted her?" he asked excitedly.

Sara saw anger flash in Vincent's eyes.

A smile spread over Mochan's lips. "I could enjoy you forever," he said, looking back to Sara.

She could see her blood smeared on his lips, and as his tongue licked them, he shivered.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her off the ground, into his body, digging his fingers into her muscles, the metal on his chest pressed against the hubcaps, pushing them into her skin. "Not even the oldest of vampires taste like you." She could feel his chest moving as he inhaled. "Your blood is alive. The taste, it's awakening! Almost like life itself." He pressed his lips to her neck; she felt his tongue dart out and over his bite mark. He pulled away, taking a deep breath. "And I bet you'll get sweeter and stronger with age."

Mochan spun her, making her look at Vincent and Margret, his arm snaking around her stomach, holding her in a tight embrace against him, his hand caressing her cheek. "I'll make you a deal, my girl. I'll leave your child unharmed if you stay with me."

She could feel his hot breath against her throbbing neck as he spoke.

"Your sweet blood can make me and my army powerful. I will give you jewelry, gowns, anything your heart desires and all would bow before you, do anything for a taste. Together we could reign over the entire vampire realm. I would be king and you my queen."

She stood against him, her body tense. "Eric would go free?" she whispered in disbelief.

"No, he will live to serve us, but will not become a vampire unless you request it."

"For as long as he lives?" Tears of hope sprang to her eyes.

"For as long as he lives, or until you or he decides he is to become one of us."

"And what will I have to do?" she asked weakly.

"Nothing my dear, except give me your blood." His embrace tightened. "Just a few drops would be enough to give my warriors an extra incentive." His body started to sway behind her, forcing her into a dance. "Your life would be one of luxury."

"What about Margret and Vincent?" she said, looking at them.

He chuckled. "Well, they should be killed, of course. They would always be a threat to you and your child. I will even let you do it, if you desire."

She looked at Vincent, whose expression was of pure hatred.

Turning away, she met Margret's eyes, but they were no longer bright silver, and her expression was of dread and of understanding.

Sara didn't want Margret killed; she'd been nice to her and Sara thought of her as a friend, but as they looked at each other, something Margret had said started to bounce around Sara's memory, begging to be remembered.

"And what if I refuse?" Sara asked quietly.

Mochan laughed, pulled her arms behind her, her shoulders giving a pop. Whispering into her ear, he said, "Your blood is like nothing I have ever tasted before." He spun her around so she faced him, "I will have you either way." he said, as his voice faded into a murmur. "I will make you watch as I change your son, then you will spend your life down here for my entertainment, and that, I promise, won't be very pleasing for you."

He turned her so she was facing the two boys who were still hanging from their poles, now wide awake, their faces filled with terror. "Imagine being tied to one of these as each of my soldiers takes a bite of you." He turned her back to look at Margret and Vincent, "But if you stay willingly by my side, I will keep you happy," Mochan whispered in her ear.

Sara knew there was only one choice to make and she tried to ignore Margret's voice as it echoed to her from a memory. "What guarantee do I have Eric will always be safe, never changed or used against me?"

"As long as I'm happy, you will be." Mochan rubbed his cheek against the back of her hair, "I will treat him like my own son, if that is what you wish." His lips brushed against her earlobe. "Stand by my side. As long as you do that, I'll have no reason to change your child. But at the first hint you can no longer be trusted, I'll have you tied to a pole and your son turned." He whispered into her ear, "But could it be possible his blood may also be as unique as yours?"

Sara took a breath and looked around the room, meeting Margret and Vincent's eyes. She dropped her head and closed her eyes; she had no choice but to accept.

Mochan's voice spoke behind her, "No one will be able to resist once they taste your blood."

Sara's eyes snapped wide as the memory of Margret's voice filled her brain. She balled up her fists as they hung at her sides and turned in Mochan's arms, meeting his eyes.

"You have decided," he said eagerly.

"Yes, you have given me no choice." She looked down at the ground, "I will stand at your side."

When she looked up, a smile spread across Mochan's face. He released her and took a step back. His right hand went to his chest and into a fist, his left hand behind his back, and he bowed to her. When he rose, their eyes met, and he gently took her hand and pressed it against his cheek. Smiling, he said, "We will rule together, the envy of everyone. Your blood will make all bow before us."

She put her other hand behind her back, her fingers finding the small bulge between her belt and jeans, "As long as I know my son is not being hurt or turned into a vampire." She paused, taking the hand from behind her back and placing it over his shoulder. "But I know you are lying to me..." She felt the tap of the blade releasing from the handle, and she plunged it into the back of Mochan's neck, wedging it between his skin and the metal neckline.

Mochan screamed, pushing her away. "You bitch!" The force knocked her through the air before she fell on her back, sliding a few feet in the dirt. "I will make you pay for that," he yelled. "Galen, get this out of me." His eyes were full of rage as they locked on Sara, his arm reaching behind him as he tried to seize the knife, but his armor obstructed his reach. "You will watch as I torture your son before I turn him," he yelled.

Not being able to touch the knife, he unclipped the metal from his chest. It dropped to the ground, the bang of metal on stone echoing through the quiet room. He pulled the knife from his neck, his eyes blazing. The smell of his blood instantly spread through the room as he aimed the knife at Sara. "You are going to make a wonderful thing to play with." Looking up he shouted, "Tie her and the kid to a pole. And kill them!" he yelled, pointing the knife at Vincent and Margret.

Mochan grew still when he realized no one was moving, every vampire was standing still, except their lips, which twitched as they stretched over their teeth, exposing the tips of their sharp white fangs, growls of hunger vibrating from their throats.

As Mochan took a step back from his army, Sara leaped to her feet towards him. He screamed as her teeth dug into the thin cold skin of his throat, his Adam's apple cracking like an eggshell between her teeth. His blood filled her mouth; burning it, involuntarily she swallowed.

At first, she felt herself begin to gag, but as the warm, thick liquid went down her throat into her stomach, her eyes went wide; a hunger she had never felt before swept through her, and her mind started to go blank. She faintly felt his arms beat against her, his hands trying to pull her away, which only made her clutch tighter, refusing to let go. Vibrations left his throat as he tried to scream, but only grating sounds left his mouth.

Sara could feel multiple hands pulling at her, trying to get to the blood that was drawing them. She clung to Mochan, feeling his strength enter her body as it left his. When the smell of fresh blood spread around her, a snarl left her throat, warning Mochan's army as they grabbed and bit into his body. More blood spilled, adding to the turmoil. Growls thundered in her ears all around her.

"Sara!" Margret's voice came to her through the rumbling.

Her brain stirred, _'Eric.'_ She released her grip on Mochan. Dark blood spurted out from the hole in his throat and one of his soldiers pushed her away, latching on. The vampire swarm pushed her further away.

Her stomach lurched as she looked at the scene. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vincent and Margret swinging swords, trying to keep the frenzy away, Eric between them. The two other boys were running towards the door, their ropes dangling from their wrists. She heard Eric call out to her as Margret forced him towards the stairs.

She started to take a step towards him but then spotted Mochan in the middle of the turmoil, still alive. She picked a stake from the floor and fought her way back into the chaos. Standing in front of Mochan, his eyes looked at her and filled with fury. She pushed a skinny vampire away and plunged the stake into Mochan's chest. A raspy scream left his torn-out throat and echoed through the room, making her ears rumble so hard that it felt as if her eardrums would burst. His muscles slackened, but his soldiers kept him on his feet.

Sara backed away, and the pile of vampires lurched. Screams of rage rang out as they started to tear into each other. Teeth met flesh, dark blood spurted into the air, dropping back down in a red mist, the smell hovered, fueling their thirst. Sara tore her eyes way and searched for Eric.

Vincent and Margret were fighting their way up the stairs. Bodies fell from the steps in front of them and hit the stone floor with thumps and cracks. Sara ran towards them, dodging swipes from other vampires as they went after anything that moved.

When she reached the top, Margret and Vincent were standing in front of Eric, their swords ready to strike. Sara stopped dead, but Eric pushed between them and ran to her. She took him in her arms, feeling his ice-cold skin as his body shook. Taking Eric's hand, she followed Margret and Vincent through the room.

The smell of blood and the sounds of carnage followed them into the bright sunlight. Vincent stopped a few feet from the door. "Get back to the car. Give me two hours. If I'm not there, leave." He handed the keys to Margret. "I have to finish it," and he ran back into Mochan's fortress.

"Come on," Margret said.

Sara, half-carrying Eric, followed her to the trees.

Chapter 11

At the car, Eric leaned against it, his body and mind exhausted. Sara reached inside and grabbed a bottle of water, with it and a rag, she began washing the dirt from his face.

He looked up at her and his eyes filled with terror. Pushing her, he tried to scoot away, but the car stopped him. Tears blurred her eyes as she looked at her terrified child.

Eric's eyes calmed as if recognizing her, and he slowly reached for the bottle. "Mom, I can manage," he said as he took it from her. With a shaking hand, he began to wipe at his face. Sara sat on her knees watching him, her heart breaking.

"Sara," Margret said softly, "You'd better do the same."

Sara looked at her reflection in the black paint and gasped, leaning away from the bloody woman who stared back at her. Caked blood surrounded her mouth; dark red tracks went down her chin and neck. Dried blood matted her hair to her scalp, making it look wet and clumpy. She thought she could see the bright silver rivers in her eyes moving, as if a current, their reflection so blinding she felt forced to squint. Taking her own bottle of water and rag, she walked away from Eric, horrified at what she had done.

On the other side of the car, she yanked her shirt over her head, the hubcaps clanging to the ground. After soaking the rag, she poured the water over her head and began scrubbing.

"Sara, calm down," Margret said gently as she came around the car. Standing next to Sara, she took the bottle, her movements slow and cautious. Tears streamed from Sara's eyes as Margret pulled her into a hug. "I'm a monster," she whimpered into the woman's shoulder.

"No, you're not."

"Then what am I? I tore out his throat. My son saw me do it and now he's scared to death of me."

"Sara, Eric was behind Mochan, he didn't see very much." Margret pulled away, meeting Sara's eyes. "You're still his mother and he will see that. You have shown him how much you love him and what you will do for him." Taking the rag, she began to wipe Sara's face.

"He's going to hate me, be frightened of me."

"No, he's not. He will love you even more."

Sara stood in front of the car, too frightened to approach Eric, watching as he slipped one of Vincent's t-shirts over his head. New tears came to her eyes as she looked at her son. Eric had lost a lot of weight, which made him look older and different. When he turned and met her eyes, she could see fear in them.

"What did he mean?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The other guy, Vincent."

Sara bit her lower lip, she didn't want to answer.

"Did he mean it? Is he going to kill you?" he asked, his voice wavering from high to low.

"Eric, I will explain everything to you..." And as she took a step towards him, he took one back. Sara stopped and looked at him, afraid he would run away. The tears bit at her eyes, and she lowered her head, not knowing what to say or do to make him not be frightened of her.

Multiple popping sounds caught her attention. She looked over at Margret, who was as still as a tree, only pieces of her hair that had escaped her braid moved, as she faced the direction of Mochan's fortress. Sara could see dark smoke billowing into the sky.

"Vincent," Margret said softly.

Sara walked over to her, watching the smoke surge to the heavens. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps behind her and a strong hand took hers. She looked over, and Eric stood next to her. Fear was still on his face but also determination and love.

Time went by slowly, but the two hours Vincent had given them went quickly, and the black smoke continued to rise as the sun hung high above them. "We've got to go," Margret said quietly.

They slowly walked back to the car. Sara opened the door, and Eric crawled into the back seat.

"Leaving without me?" Vincent's voice came from the trees.

"Vincent!" Margret yelled, running towards the voice.

Sara turned as Vincent walked out from the tree line, smiling like an idiot, his clothes ripped and covered with soot, behind him, the two boys followed slowly. "They're lucky I found them," Vincent said as Margret hugged him.

Sara felt relief at first, and then she realized she would soon die. As their eyes met, his went ablaze. She looked away and slid into the backseat next to Eric. A few seconds later the other boys squeezed in, their smell of body odor, urine, and smoke caused Sara's eyes to water. Vincent followed, taking the front passenger seat.

"What did you do?" Margret asked as she got into the car. Turning the key, the machine roared to life.

"There were gallons of gas in one of the outbuildings, that's where I found them," he tilted his head towards the boys. "Most of Mochan's army was still in the pit, killing each other, so I lit fires to keep them in. Plus I dropped a few in with them," he laughed. "I probably flew fifty feet when it blew. I busted my phone when I landed."

Sara felt exhaustion pulling her, and she fell asleep to Vincent's voice.

Her eyes opened. The car was still, and Eric was leaning against her shoulder, his breath even as he slept. Looking out the windshield, she saw Margret and Vincent standing on a porch of a large blue house, the two boys next to them, their bodies slumped in fatigue. With them was an elderly couple, the man talking to Vincent. The woman glanced towards the car, and Sara could see she had said something, but Margret shook her head in reply.

The woman opened the door to the house, taking the two boys inside, Vincent and the old man following them. Margret left the porch and came back to the car.

"What's going on?" Sara whispered when Margret got in the passenger seat.

"They're going to stay here for a while. The couple who lives here, they are," Margret chuckled, "retired companions. They will help the boys deal with what happened so they can go back home if they want to."

"And what's Vincent doing?" Sara asked, looking towards the house.

"He's making a few phone calls and getting word to the Sires."

Five minutes later Vincent came out with the man following him and said a few words before Vincent walked to the car. Sara's eyes followed him, but she closed them as he got closer. He got in without a word and started the machine. She felt Eric's body shift, stretching out, but he kept his head on her shoulder.

Chapter 12

When Sara opened her eyes, she was in Margret's bed. Flashes of walking through the house and being pulled up the stairs came back to her. She heard breathing beside her. Turning, Eric's face lay on the pillow looking pale and thin. Tears came to her eyes as the dream became reality. Her son was safe. Fighting the urge to touch him, she watched his sleeping face as her tears dropped.

There was a light knock on the door just before it opened, then the smell of chicken drifted through the air. Sara sat up, her stomach growling, as Margret walked in carrying paper bags.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Margret whispered.

"You didn't." Sara got off the bed as gently as possible. "When did we get here?"

"About three hours ago. You don't remember?"

"Just bits and pieces."

"Well, you were totally out of it. You wouldn't let anyone near your son. It was like..." she lowered her voice into a softer whisper, "like you were starting to change, for real this time. I thought Mochan's blood may have triggered something. But thankfully you're still the same half vampire as before."

Sara sighed as she sat at the table, "No wonder I feel so messed up, I'm only half human."

Margret looked back at Eric, "But you're all mother." She set the bags in the middle of the table. "I brought food if you're still interested."

"I'm starving."

"Mom?"

Sara looked over at Eric, who was sitting up. "Over here."

"I smell chicken," he said groggily.

"Margret brought some food. Why don't you get cleaned up?" She pointed towards the bathroom. "Then we'll eat."

Eric nodded and got out of bed, walking slowly to the bathroom.

"Are you going to tell him the truth?" Margret asked when the bathroom door closed.

Sara shut her eyes. "Yes."

"How do you think he'll take it?" she asked as she unpacked the bags.

"How would you?" Sara barked as her eyes snapped open.

Margret looked away, "I thought you were going to take Mochan's offer."

Sara quickly looked away, knowing guilt was all over her face. "I was."

"What stopped you?" Margret asked, freezing, the box in her hands hovering inches above the table.

"I remembered you talking about how new vampires couldn't resist old blood. Then when Mochan admitted that most of his army was new, it clicked. I just had to get his to flow."

"And you created mayhem."

"Was that what it looked like?"

"Oh God, it was crazy. When that first whiff hit his army, they all froze. Even I did." Her voice tensed, "I thought we'd lost you. When you attacked, it was like seeing a different person. You scared the shit out of me." She sat down across from Sara. "How were you able to let go?"

"I heard you call my name, and I thought of Eric. That pulled me out of the trance I was in. When I saw you and Vincent with Eric, I was ready to go, but with Mochan still standing, I couldn't take the chance he would get out, so I staked him."

"My teeth are still rattling from his scream."

"Your teeth? I was right in front of him."

Margret laughed. "You did good, I'm proud of you."

"I'm starving." Eric's voice filled the room.

Sara turned and gave him a smile. "Get over here while it's still hot."

She watched him as he walked over. His face wasn't as pale, but he still looked thin and weak. He sat down in a chair and grabbed a piece of chicken; she could hear his stomach rumbling as he started to shove food into his mouth.

She took a leg and plucked a piece of meat from the bone and the movement next to her stopped. Eric was staring at her.

"I thought you were a vampire," he said.

Margret answered, "Your mom can do things that normal vampires can't, like eat.

"What else?" he asked as he shoved a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I can still cry."

His eyes met hers, "What about..."

"Blood? I'd rather have chicken," and she popped a piece into her mouth.

He took a couple more bites then asked, "What about the other guy wanting to kill you? Was that just part of the plan to kill the old guy?"

Sara put down her chicken leg. "What he said is true."

Eric looked at her in horror.

Sara took his hand and looked him in the eyes. "I made a deal with Vincent. I would help them find Mochan by finding you, and in return, he would spare my life until you were safe. Then..."

"Why would you make a deal like that?" Eric looked at Margret. "He's not really going to kill my mom, is he?"

Margret met his eyes, but instantly lowered them. "He will keep his end of the deal."

"But the guy's dead, she killed him. Vincent should be thanking her, not plotting to kill her!" Eric yelled, getting to his feet. "Couldn't we talk to him? Get him to change his mind?" He looked at Margret, "You're on our side, right? Or do you want my mom dead, too?"

"Eric," Margret said, "no, I don't want anyone to kill your mom, but Vincent isn't the type to change his mind. When he gives his word..."

"Then we'll run," he yelled, pushing his chair away from the table.

Sara grabbed his wrist, pulling him back, meeting his eyes, "And have him after me until I'm dead? Your life would always be in danger. I gave him my word, and I will not go back on it."

His voice lowered into a growl as he pulled his arm from his mother's grasp. "Then we'll kill him."

"Eric!" Sara shouted, getting to her feet, "I will not have you talking like that! I did this to save you. I told you I would do anything for you, including dying."

Eric took a step back as a frightened expression cascaded over his face and then was slowly replaced with sadness. "So when is he going to do it?" he whispered through the tears he was fighting but losing to.

She grabbed her son and hugged him tightly. "I don't know."

"I don't want..." he said into her shoulder, his voice overtaken by his tears.

Eric was lying in bed, having just fallen asleep. Sara and Margret were sitting in front of the fire; the dancing flames were the only light in the room.

"Would your sister take care of Eric?" Margret asked.

Sara watched the fire. "That's the last person I would let take care of my child."

"There's the family who took in the boys," Margret said. "They know the story. He'd be safe there."

"But they're strangers. Eric needs to be with people he knows and the only person I can think of is his father's brother."

"I'll take him," Margret said after a few seconds. Taking Sara's hand, she added, "And I swear I will not tell Vincent where."

"Thank you."

For an hour, they sat in silence, each of them watching the flames with their own thoughts.

When the door flew open and Vincent walked in, Sara felt time stop. His eyes shined bright, looking like a pair of stars floating in the room. Sara slowly got to her feet.

"Vincent!" Margret said, standing in front of Sara, blocking Vincent's approach. "I can't let you do it!"

Without a pause, he pushed Margret away, not watching as she fell to the floor and almost into the fireplace.

"Please, not here," Sara pleaded, looking over at Eric, who was sitting up in bed, fear all over his face.

"Two weeks," Vincent said, his eyes glowing brighter. "You have two weeks from tonight to take your son somewhere." He tossed the car keys towards Sara, they hit her then fell to the floor. "I'll be here waiting for you to return. If you do not," he grabbed her arms, pulling her into him, "I will find you." He glanced over towards the bed, "And I will kill anyone who gets in my way!" He let go of her and walked out of the room.

Margret jumped up from the floor and bolted after him.

Sara felt her entire body slacken, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She went to her son, taking him into her arms.

The sun hung near the horizon, its warmth just starting to dry the dew from the grass. Eric sat in the passenger seat of the black Nova, his face pale and eyes red.

Margret's were a dull grey as she held Sara in a hug. "Just ask, and I'll hide both of you," she whispered in Sara's ear.

"I can't do that," Sara said, pulling away.

Margret handed her a piece of paper. "If his uncle won't, they will. They'll keep him safe. I also left you some cash in the glove box; you have a long trip ahead of you."

"Thanks, Margret." Sara paused, "Will you be here when I come back?"

"I'll be here," she said.

Sara nodded. "I'll see you in two weeks, then."

The only sound was the car as it took them west. For the next hour, Sara kept glancing at her son as he rested his head against the car window. She didn't know if he was asleep or awake, but felt it was best to leave him with his thoughts, at least for now. He had been through hell; it was too much for anyone to process, and now he had to accept his mother was going to die.

At a gas station just outside of Buffalo, they both got out. Meeting back at the car, Eric sat in the driver's seat. She handed him the keys, and he drove for the next few hours, the only words he muttered were for directions.

Sara felt the car slow and opened her eyes. The sun was only slightly lower in the sky than before she'd dozed off. Sitting up, she saw Eric was driving the car into a motel parking lot. Glancing over at him, she could see dried tear marks on his face. She didn't say a word as he stopped the car in front of the motel's office.

In the motel room, she sat at the table that looked out onto the parking lot and highway, watching as cars swept by on the two-lane road, either on their way to or from the Interstate, her fingers tracing over the deep score marks in the old worn wood.

The water in the bathroom shut off, and she turned to watch her son as he walked slowly into the room, his hair wet from his shower. He walked over to one of the double beds and sat down at the foot. She watched him as he stared at the dark brown paneled walls, his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths.

Finally, he turned and met her eyes. "Are you really going to do it?"

She rose from her chair and walked over to him. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I have to. I gave him my word."

"No, you don't," he yelled. "We can run. I've seen all of the money in the glove box, we could go anywhere. We have a two week head start."

"That's what Vincent wants us to do." She took his hand. "As long as I'm alive, I'm putting your life in danger, and even if Vincent didn't find us, another vampire could."

"You mean there's more?" his voice wavered in fear.

"Margret told me there are vampires all over the world who took the same vow. They wouldn't think twice about killing me."

A few seconds went by before he spoke again. "Mom, what happened after..."

"After I was thrown from the car?"

He gave her a slow nod, his eyes curious, yet afraid.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I only remember being in an alley and Margret trying to kill me."

"Do you think she will get him to change his mind?" he asked after a few seconds.

"I hope so," Sara answered, praying her son didn't hear the disbelief she heard in her own voice.

They took turns driving as they continued their trip through Indiana, Illinois, and finally Iowa. Sara took over in Des Moines, feeling at home driving along the same highway she did before Matt died, but she never planned on making the detour to Oak Creek, the town she'd grown up in and where her life changed.

Eric woke from his nap and sat higher in his seat as he began to recognize the landscape. "Mom, what are we doing here?"

"I just wanted to see Grandma's place one more time," she said, turning off the pavement onto the gravel road that led to her childhood home.

She stopped on the side of the road and looked down the drive. Tears burned her eyes as memories of her childhood came back. The house was already repainted; a new swing set in the backyard. _'At least there are children here again,'_ she thought to herself, before letting both the good and bad memories fight to be remembered.

After a while, she put the car back into drive, and drove down the gravel road, away from the house.

As the pond came closer she could feel time slow. This was the place where the memories were the strongest. Stopping next to it, she got out. All of the happy memories of fishing with her father and time she spent with Matt, kissing at the water's edge, raced through her mind.

She went to her dad's favorite tree and sat down with her back against it, closing her eyes, listening to the frogs and bugs talk.

Eric's footsteps whispered against the tall grass as he walked towards her, feeling him sit down next to her, his warm hand taking hers. Meeting his eyes, she gave a smile then looked out over the water, watching the sun dance on the surface. They were sitting as she had sat with her mom just a few months earlier.

"Mom, what are we going to tell Ray?" Eric asked.

She met his eyes, "I don't know." Looking back at the water, she said, "Margret gave me the address of some people you could stay with, but I think we should have them take you to Ray and tell him I was in an accident."

"Like dad?" he asked, fighting tears.

She gave him a hug. "Like dad."

As they walked down the sidewalk to her home town's bank, her sunglasses gave a dark tint to the world around her. Oak Creek was still the same, all of the same businesses still lined the same four blocks. People looked and waved, recognizing them, but deep down she hoped they were too busy to chat.

The bank was in the middle of the block; its chipped and faded brick walls adding to its character. Inside she took off the sunglasses with the hope the dim light would hide the silver in her eyes. To help, she adjusted her hair so her bangs would hang over them.

Sara and Eric waited behind the only other customer, an elderly woman with white-blue hair dressed in a bright blue dress, whom Sara recognized but didn't know well enough to greet. Within a few minutes, the woman finished her business and walked away.

"Sara," the teller, a middle-aged woman with her black-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, said with a smile, recognizing her, then quickly her voice filled with sympathy. "How have you've been? I haven't seen you in a while."

Sara smiled, avoiding prolonged eye contact. "Good, and you?"

"Fine." She looked over at Eric, smiling, "I can remember when you couldn't even reach the counter." She looked to her computer, typing on the keyboard, "So how can I help you today?"

"I would like to add Eric's name to my account."

The woman's smile fell as she looked at the computer. "Are you sure? Your sister just deposited a lot of money into it a few weeks ago."

"I'm sure," Sara said bluntly, and more gently she added, "After everything that has happened, I would feel better if Eric didn't have to worry if something happened to me."

The woman gave her an understanding nod and smile. She got out of her chair and walked a few steps to a file cabinet. "There're some papers both you and Eric will need to sign." She opened the top drawer, and after a few seconds, she was back in her chair, sliding the papers over the counter to them. "We will need your new address."

"We don't have one yet." Sara shrugged her shoulders. "After the funeral... we just had to get away for a while."

The teller nodded again, "Just give us a call." She then explained the papers and showed where Sara and Eric were to sign.

After ten minutes of entering the information into the computer, the teller had added Eric's name to his mother's account. The printer groaned and shook as it copied the information onto a piece of paper, which the teller handed over to Sara. On the top were both Sara's and Eric's names and the account's balance. She looked over the details; her sister had deposited only ten thousand dollars.

Before her anger grew, the teller spoke, "Your sister also left you a letter." Her voice went soft, "And the family who bought your mother's house, they brought in a cell phone their kids found; they thought it might be yours." She got up from her chair and disappeared around a corner. A few moments later she was back with a phone and an envelope.

"Thank you," Sara said, looking at the phone. She popped open the back cover and took the battery out; etched in the plastic was her name. Putting it back together, she said, "I was wondering where it went," and put it into her back pocket.

The plain white envelope only had her name on it, but Sara knew it was Robin's handwriting. She ripped it open and took out the single piece of paper, unfolding it slowly as if expecting something to jump out at her.

' _Sara,_

You only have Greg to thank for the money. I don't think you deserve a single penny, it should have all gone to the cleanup. It was your mess, and you're a bitch for leaving it for me to deal with.

Do not contact or come anywhere near me or my family. If you do, I will have you arrested.'

Sara shook her head and handed the note over to Eric. While he was reading it she gave the teller a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With Eric by her side, she walked away, taking the phone from her pocket, turning it on. It beeped, staying lit long enough for Sara to see she had messages, and then it shut down, the battery too low. Putting her sunglasses back on, mother and son stepped out into the sunlight.

They walked down the sidewalk towards a store to buy a charger when she saw someone familiar across the street, talking to a man in an old blue pick-up. She pulled Eric across the street with her, and they stood next to a building, in the shade, waiting for the men's conversation to end.

The truck backed out, and the man turned and started to walk away.

"Mr. Casey," Sara called.

The lawyer stopped and turned around as Sara and Eric stepped out from the shadows. His eyes went wide as they walked towards him.

He blinked. "How?" He looked at Eric. "Does Mochan know you're here?"

"Sorry, Mr. Casey," Sara said as she took off her sunglasses, "Mochan is dead, I killed him."

His eyes met Sara's, and his face began to pale. "You're one of them," he whispered.

She smiled. "I just wanted to let you know about Mochan," she paused, "and about me. By the way, it might be a piece of shit, but I want my car and everything that was in it back. I'll be at your office in a few days. You better have it waiting for me."

Putting her glasses back on, she turned and walked away with Eric as Mr. Casey's face went whiter, all while fighting the smile that wanted to take over her lips. After they went back across the street, Sara gave into the smile.

Eric looked at his mom before they walked into the store. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"No, I just wanted to scare him. The Goddess will see he gets what's coming to him."

She plugged the new charger into the lighter of Vincent's car and into the phone. It beeped as it started to charge. Sara turned it on and checked the messages. Holding the phone to her ear she listened to the first two: Greg apologized for Robin, and he wanted her to call.

The third made Sara's heart leap. Greg's voice was shaking, and it sounded as if he were crying. His voice ended abruptly when she heard another man's in the background. The next message, left a few hours later, worried her more. All he said was for her to call.

She held her fear in her stomach as the fifth message played. "Sara," Greg's voice came into her ear. He sounded tired, sad, and scared. "Please, call me. You kept telling me to leave her." His voice choked. "I really need you here."

The last message he left, sent chills down her spine. His voice sounded better, but sadness still swam below the surface. "Sara, where are you? I've left Robin. What she did... Please, call me."

Her breathing stopped as the message ended and the last one played, "Sara," Robin's voice whispered in her ear, sounding hollow. "I'm sorry for everything I've done. Please, I'm your only sister. Greg went nuts and had me arrested. I need your help." Sara's hearing faded as Robin's voice continued to whine. Without hearing the rest of the message, she ended the playback.

Sara looked out the windshield, her brain spinning. She knew Greg would take care of Eric as long as Robin wasn't around, but what had Robin done to get arrested. She dialed Greg's number.

"Sara, where have you've been?" Greg asked before the phone rang a second time.

"I've been out of town, and I lost my phone. What happened? Are the girls all right?"

"Yes, they're fine."

"What did she do?"

"I don't want to talk about it over the phone. It's..." his voice started to choke.

"We're heading towards you now. Are you still at the house?"

"No, it's for sale. The girls and I moved to Willow Falls. I had to get away from her."

Sara wrote down the address. "We'll see you in a couple of hours," and she hung up before he could reply.

Chapter 13

With Eric reciting directions, Sara drove through Willow Falls. She was surprised that the city was almost as big as Des Moines, but being near the Nebraska and Missouri borders had its advantages, creating a hub for factories, trucking companies, and other businesses.

Her heart pounded as she pulled into Greg's drive. The one-story ranch house was tiny compared with the home Greg had shared with Robin. The front door opened, and two blonde-haired girls ran out, both screaming Sara and Eric's names. Tammy and Anna wrapped their arms around her waist as soon as she got out of the car. They only released her when Eric came around, then they grabbed him.

Sara looked towards Greg, who was standing on the porch. He looked older but more relaxed. She slowly walked towards him.

"Sara," he said, hugging her. "Whose car is that?"

"A friend's," she replied, pulling away.

He looked at her then at Eric, "What happened to you two? Where were you?" Worry was in his voice. "Your eyes!" he shouted in shock.

"It's a long story, but I want to know what Robin did."

He led her into his house; the girls' toys were all over the living room, something Robin would rant about. Sara smiled; Greg and the girls were free of Robin's control.

Greg and Sara went to the kitchen while Eric and the girls sat in front of the TV playing a video game. Greg put a can of pop on the table for Sara. "Tell me what's going on, you both look like shit," Greg said as he sat down, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

Sara sat next to him, "You need to tell me what happened with Robin, first," she replied calmly.

Greg took a breath. "I was at work when my boss called me into his office. There were two policemen, and they asked me when was the last time I had seen or talked to Robin and the girls."

Sara could see the anger build in his chest as he inhaled.

He continued, "They wouldn't tell me what was going on; they just kept asking me questions. Finally, they told me that one of the neighbors had called the police. She had seen Robin tear out of the driveway, alone. At first, she didn't think anything about it, until an hour later when she was walking her dog and heard a girl's voice calling for her mom."

Greg hit the table with his fist, and under his breath, he growled, "The fucking bitch locked the girls in a closet because they didn't want to read the Bible. She left them there alone, in the dark, while she went to fucking church to pray for them." He looked up and met Sara's eyes, "I left her in jail, took the girls, got a restraining order, and filed for divorce."

He let out a sigh, and Sara could see the stress leave his body. A part of her didn't want to believe her sister had done such a thing, but at the same time, Sara wasn't shocked Robin had done it.

"There was a hearing the other day. I have full custody of the girls until the divorce hearing, and she can't come anywhere near them without supervision." Without missing a beat he asked, "Now, what happened to you two?"

"You have enough to deal with, you don't need my issues."

"Bullshit!" he yelled, making her jump. From the corner of her eye, she saw Eric start to get up from the floor. Sara shook her head at him, and he sat back down.

"How about a place to stay for the night?" she said.

Greg's lips went tight, puckering as he studied her. "Eric can have the couch if you don't mind taking one of the girls' beds."

"That would be fine," Sara said, trying her best to smile.

Greg watched her for a few more seconds before he stood. "Anna, Tammy; Aunt Sara and Cousin Eric are going to spend the night. You're going to have a roommate."

Both girls screamed, "Hooray!" as they got off the floor and ran down the hallway towards what Sara guessed was where the bedrooms were.

"I'll be right back," he said, still not smiling.

She heard his footsteps going down the hall, following the girls' happy laughter. A few seconds later Eric was standing next to her. "You're not going to ask him?"

She shook her head, "No, he has enough on his plate. I can't do this to him."

"So, we're just going to leave like everything is okay?"

"Yes," she whispered. "We'll go to Ray's. We can use the car accident story on him."

"And why can't you use that story on me?" Sara jumped when Greg spoke behind her, anger and disappointment growling in his voice. He came around and stopped next to her. Sara refused to look at her husband's best friend, wishing she could disappear.

The seconds of silence felt like hours and she could feel his stare weighing her body down. "You had better start talking," he snapped.

More seconds ticked by. "God damn it, Sara," he yelled, grabbing her arm, pulling her up from the chair like a ragdoll, making her stand in front of him, but she refused to lift her eyes above his stomach.

"Sara, look at me!" He grabbed her chin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to lift it up, "I'm not going to ask you again."

Cold chills crept over her skin, "I need someone to take care of Eric," she blurted, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"What, why?"

She took a breath. "I killed someone."

"You did what?" he shouted, letting her go.

"He took Eric."

"Who was it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? I can help."

She looked up into Greg's eyes. "If you want to help, take care of my son. I'm turning myself in next week."

"But if he..."

The story came to her as if someone was whispering it in her ear. "His family is very rich. Even if I'm cleared... I need to keep Eric out of it."

"What? He could tell what happened."

"If Eric speaks, then the arrangement is off. That's the deal I made."

"Who did you make a deal with? And how does that explain why your eyes are a different color?"

"I can't explain that."

Greg turned and walked towards the patio window that looked out into the back yard. In the window's reflection, Sara could see his face, which looked ghostly. "You had better start at the beginning," he said without turning.

Sara slowly sat back down in the chair swallowing, but her throat was so dry it caught. She didn't want to lie to Greg, but she had no choice.

"Eric and I decided to leave the state, to start over. We were looking at a house. The realtor hadn't shown up yet, and we were walking around the back yard when a car drove through the alley. The only reason I noticed it was because it wasn't a piece of crap. It stopped and backed up. I thought it was the realtor, so we walked towards it and a man got out."

She took a breath, still looking at Greg's reflection in the window. His head was down, and she couldn't see his eyes. "Something about him bugged me, but it was too late. He punched me, grabbed Eric, and shoved him in the trunk. I tried to go after him, but the guy was ready. He punched me again, this time in the gut, and the next thing I knew he'd put a plastic bag over my head."

She stopped when Greg turned around, his eyes wide. She knew she had to keep talking before the story vanished. "Everything was going grey, either the guy thought I was dead or something spooked him, 'cause he let me go and took off with Eric in the trunk.

"I got the bag loose, and I was able to breathe, so I went after them. When I caught up, he already had Eric tied up in his house. I heard him talking about the perverted things he was going to do, and I could see marks on Eric's face. I grabbed a knife and slit the guy's throat.

"As we were leaving, a limo pulled up and two men got out. I knew who one of them was; I'd seen him on TV. We ran, but last week they found us in Texas. And I made a deal: I would turn myself in, admitting I killed the guy, and as long as I don't tell the police the real reason, Eric will be taken care of financially."

Greg took a single step towards her. "First of all, why didn't you tell me you were planning on moving out of state? And second, why didn't you go to the police after this guy took Eric?" Greg said, his eyes narrowing.

Sara knew she had hurt him. "I didn't tell you we were leaving because I knew you would hate the idea and would try to talk me out of it."

"And why you didn't go to the police?"

"I wasn't thinking," Sara answered, fearing Greg didn't believe her, but there was no way he would believe the truth. "I was scared for Eric."

Greg's eyes widened as they flickered towards the hallway. A split second later, they were back on Sara, studying her. A few moments went by before he spoke: "Why is it that I think there's more to your story?" He looked behind her, and she knew Greg was looking at Eric.

Eric was the one who answered, "There is, but we can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"So you can't say anything," Sara said, "to get you into trouble."

Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath; opening them he said, "And what do you want to do?" His eyes darted over Sara and looked at Eric.

"He wants to run and hide," Sara answered, "but what kind of life would that be, always running? I don't want my son to live that kind of life."

"You're not planning on coming back, aren't you?"

Sara lowered her head and looked down at the table. "I'll do anything for Eric, to keep him safe, even if that means never seeing him again."

Greg looked into the living room as his two girls walked back in, their looks of joy were gone, replaced with worry. The kids may not have heard what the adults were talking about, but they heard the tone.

Eric went over to them and put an arm around each of their shoulders. He walked with them to the couch, whispering. When they settled on a movie, Eric came back to the kitchen, sitting in a chair next to his mom.

Slowly Greg sat down.

"We've argued for the last two days," Eric said quietly. "It's the only way. I don't want to lose my mom, but it would kill her if I got hurt. She already saved me once, so staying quiet is the only way to thank her. It's not what I want to do, but she's right; it's the only way."

Greg's tone went serious. "So Eric's getting paid off for his silence. How do you know they'll keep to their end of the deal?"

"Once the first deposit is in Eric's account, I'll go to the police. And for the next five years, there will be a deposit. If no money, Eric will talk."

Greg leaned back in his chair, almost laughing. "This is too much. My sister-in-law, my best friend's wife, killed someone and is now getting paid off."

"Greg, I know, but..." She took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'll take him to Ray's..." she said as she started to stand.

"Sara," he said, taking her hand, not letting her get up, "I'm his Godfather! Of course I'll do it. I promised both you and Matt the day Eric was born." He gripped her hand tighter, "But I want to help you too."

"Take care of Eric, and if anyone asks you any questions, tell them I was in a car accident."

Over the next few days, Sara spent as much time with Eric as she could. When Greg was at work and the girls at daycare, mother and son talked about everything that had happened and what to tell people. Eric didn't want to tell people his mother was dead, so they comprised; he would say she was in a car accident and in a coma.

Greg was more difficult. Every day he tried to get more information out of her, paying special attention to her eye color, asking if it was drugs.

The sun had just peeked over the horizon and Sara slowly and silently closed the front door. Her eyes burned with tears as she made her way to the Nova. In her mind, she recited the letter she'd left for Eric. She could still see his sleeping body on the couch, curled up in a ball.

"Mom, don't go!" Eric yelled from the porch. He ran across the yard. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her. As he clung, he whispered, "He's going to kill you."

"Honey, I'm technically already dead," she replied, trying to replace her fear and sorrow with sarcasm.

"No, you're not; you're standing here." His sobbing voice filled her ear, "you eat, breathe, just like a human. I don't care if you're a vampire, you're my mother."

"Shh, The Goddess has a plan for both of us. She has shown you what is really out there. Use that knowledge every day. It will keep you safe."

"Mom, I just can't let you go."

"You have to." She paused, "Maybe Margret has changed his mind."

Sara looked towards the house when she heard the front door closing. Greg started to walk towards them. "Remember not to tell Greg the truth," she whispered. "He doesn't need to know what's really out there." She hugged her son and kissed his cheek.

"If she hasn't, you tell him that if I ever see him again..." Eric growled.

"Don't!" she said, holding him at arm's length, her hands on his shoulders. "He has to do what he thinks is right, just like you or me." She pulled him back into her, holding him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

Greg's eyes were full of sadness, pain, and anger as he stood behind Eric. "You don't have to do this," he said. "There has to be another way."

"Any other way would put you in danger." She took a breath. "Knowing you all are safe makes this a little easier."

She pulled herself away from her son, pushing him into Greg, and opened the car door. Eric lunged from Greg's arms, trying to grab her; Greg was barely able to hold the struggling boy.

"I love you, Eric," she said as numbly as she could, getting into the car.

As she backed out of the driveway, she heard her son scream, "Mom! I love you!"

## Chapter 14

Sara didn't think the tears would ever stop, but as she crossed into Illinois, her eyes felt dry, as if she had cried every ounce of water out of her body. Stopping only for gas, food, and drink, she drove towards her death.

Sara turned onto the gravel road, and through the trees, she could make out lights in the lower windows of the house at the end of the lane. She wanted to turn around; everything in her body told her to run.

Before the path went around the curve, she stopped the car and turned off the headlights. She sat there for a few seconds, looking at the house. Slowly she got out.

Looking towards the heavens, at the glimmering stars in the moonless sky, she said, "Oh Great Mother, on this dark night of endings, I have traveled towards my destiny. My journey is coming to its end, but my son, his is beginning. You have shown him one of the many secrets you hold. Please guide him safely down the path you have chosen for him." Her voice started to shake. "Please, aid me with my passing. Take away my fears and pain as I make my way towards you and my loved ones who are waiting in the Summerland. Forgive those whose duty it is, and bless those who I leave behind. Blessed Be."

She looked up at the sky, the stars blurring with her tears. Taking a deep breath, she got back into the car and drove towards the house.

Sara had just stepped out of the car when Margret came running out.

"Sara, I can't believe... Get out of here! We'll get Eric and I'll protect you."

Sara pushed past her, "You know I have to. I can't endanger Eric or you."

"Please, just run. He wasn't here, I couldn't talk to him! You still have time. I'll..."

Sara didn't reply, and Margret grabbed her. "I've never seen him like this before. I don't think he's fed since he left. He's going to kill you!" she cried.

Sara stopped at the door, "Yes, and Eric is alive and will stay that way."

"Don't you want to watch your son grow up?" she asked, trying to pull Sara away.

"Margret, I would love to. I'm doing this so he can." She pulled her arm from Margret's grip and went in, with Margret on her heels. The stairs were straight ahead, but she could smell burning wood to her left. She walked forward and looked into the room at the sound of crackling. Vincent was standing at the far window, looking out into the night. Sara stopped and then slowly stepped into the room, her footsteps tapping on the wooden floor beneath her.

The only light in the room was from the fire and a floor lamp standing between two large chairs in the middle of the room. Her arm rose to put the car keys on the corner of the mantel. Her eyes shifted from the wooden stake, polished smooth, to one of the swords taken from Mochan's fortress, the silver blade sparkling in the light, both resting on the stone shelf. Her hand shook, making the keys sing on the stone as she put them down.

"Margret, it would be best if you wait outside," Vincent said, not turning around.

"Vincent please, don't do this," Margret pleaded. "She saved you and killed Mochan..."

"Margret, leave!"

"Vincent, I can't let you do this!"

He spun around, his eyes shining in the light.

Sara took Margret's hand. "Please, Margret, I don't want you here. But I would like for you to be the one to take care of me after." She took a breath. "I don't think he would take as much care as you."

"Sara."

Shaking her head, she pushed Margret from the room to the front door. When she had gone out, Sara closed it, flipping the lock. She waited until she heard Margret's slow footsteps echo across the porch. Sara took a breath and went back into the living room. Her eyes met Vincent's as he watched her approach.

She stopped in front of the fireplace, the flames dancing, sending swaying shadows around the room. The only sound in the room was the fire eating away at the wood. Vincent stared at her, his face tight, full of hate or anger, Sara couldn't tell which. He started to move towards her.

When he was a few feet away, she held her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of Eric, going through every happy memory of her time with him. She exhaled, knowing her son was safe. Footsteps stopped behind her, and she felt his breath in her hair.

"So how are we going to do this?" Vincent whispered in her ear, his fingers resting on her shoulder.

She didn't reply, trying to keep her mind on her memories, drawing every part of herself into her soul.

"You're not going to run or fight back, are you?" His fingers brushed her hair away from her neck, and his breath touched her skin.

"No, I told you I wouldn't," she said, trying to keep her heart from hammering.

His breath grew hotter on her skin. One of his arms went slowly around her stomach, pulling her into him; the other slid down her arm, his hand stopping at her wrist, his fingers wrapping around it.

She felt her body shake, and her fear began to crawl out. But as she felt his body behind hers, she leaned back into him, her body relaxing, as if it had waited for this moment. Her head tilted, exposing her neck, giving herself over to him.

"Why didn't you run?" he whispered, his lips moving gently against her ear. His hold on her changed, feeling like a lover's embrace, and it sent waves over her skin and into her body, a feeling she hadn't felt in years. A gasp was the only response she could give to his question; all lucid thoughts were leaving her brain.

He held her tighter against him, and his breath began to quicken. She felt his lips move from her ear. Slowly they brushed against the skin of her neck, stopping when they met her shoulder.

"Do you regret saving me?" he asked into the nape of her neck. "The sword would've taken my head right off. We wouldn't be here right now," he said softly, his hold around her stomach intensifying.

She took another deep breath, her heart racing. "No, we wouldn't be," she forced out. "All of us would be dead." She took a quick breath as she felt his lips part, his teeth grazing her skin. It made every nerve in her body jump.

His lips made their way back up to her ear, "And what would you say if I told you I wasn't going to kill you?" he whispered.

A jolt went through her heart but ended just as quickly. She realized what he was doing, and her eyes opened, her body became hers again, and the spell she was in faded. "That you were lying," she snapped, trying to pull away from his embrace. "I'm not going to play your game," she said, her temper flaring. "Let's get it over with. I've kept my end of the deal."

She felt his grip on her stomach change. A yelp left her as she spun around, and he pushed her. "Sit down," he growled as she fell into a chair. She felt it tip back as she landed. A dull thud came from the legs as the chair settled back on all four.

Sara sat stiff, watching Vincent as he stood in front of the fireplace, his fingers touching the sword's silver blade. Seconds dragged by before he turned to her, staring with a hard expression.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, his voice tight. "I was going to, but Margret is right, there's something different about you." He paused and Sara watched as his expression became stone. "I felt that you are something the Sires should know about before I killed you. But now they are curious and request you come and introduce yourself."

"What?" She watched him, expecting him to laugh if she fell for his trick.

"I was standing outside the door when you told your son. I heard everything, so I decided to give you two weeks, just to see if you would keep your word, and so I could meet with the Sires. I went to them, telling them Mochan was dead, and how he became that way." He smiled, his features becoming soft for a split second. "You had the Sirelords' favor when you killed Mochan, and by coming back here, knowing you were to die, you earned their pardon, at least for now. They will decide your fate."

"You're lying," she said, meeting his eyes.

"No, I'm not." He took a single step towards her, then stopped.

"Why?" she asked.

"I told you." He quickly looked away, back into the fire.

After a few seconds, she whispered, "Margret doesn't know, does she?"

He laughed, "No, I couldn't let her interfere. She's too fond of you. If I told her, she would've run to you, and you would've come here knowing you were going to live." He turned and stepped back towards the fire.

Sara got up from the chair. "Why did you go to them? Why didn't you just kill me first?"

He spun and met her eyes, "I regret going to the Sires because now I'm responsible for you. I should've killed you when you walked up the steps after killing Mochan." He walked towards her, his blazing silver eyes locking onto hers, "Now you have a choice to make. You can honor the Sires' request and accompany me, and let them decide if you live or die, or I can kill you right now."

"What choice do I have?" she asked a few seconds later. "I'll go."

Breaking eye contact, he said, "You didn't bring any clothes, did you?"

She glared at him.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Vincent said into the fire. "Margret won't mind if you borrow some of her clothes, but I'll send her to get you some." He looked up at the ceiling. "Speaking of Margret," he turned and started to walk towards the hallway.

"Why do I have the feeling you're not telling me something?" Sara challenged.

He stopped but didn't look back, "Well, I don't recommend you contacting your son just yet. The Sires haven't allowed any new creation to live since they changed the law." He walked out of the room and opened the front door, "Margret, you can come in now. I'll let you take care of the rest."

"I hate you!" Margret screamed.

"I know. You're going to kill me while I sleep. Just get in here or I'll do it."

"You bastard."

Sara heard Margret's steps as she came into the house. When she walked into the living room, her head was down, eyes looking at the floor. Her head jerked up, and she stopped dead for a split second before she ran towards Sara, wrapping her arms around her.

"Sara," Margret said.

"She needs to get to bed," Vincent said from the doorway, leaning against the wall with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm taking her to the Sirelords in the morning, and you're going to get her some clothes for the trip."

Margret let Sara go, turned, and faced Vincent, "The Sires? How do they know?"

"I told them," he replied.

"You did what?"

"I went to them and told them."

"How could you?"

"You said I could."

"You are an asshole! When do we leave?"

"Sara and I leave in the morning, you are going to await their summons," he told her, his voice losing all humor.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you take her without me?" Margret snapped.

Vincent stood straight and took a step towards her, "You have no choice."

"No way; you'll do nothing to protect her."

"Shut up, Margret," Vincent growled. "I gave Sara the choice: either die now or have the Sires decide her fate." He took another step, "She agreed to go."

"Did you even tell her what's going to happen when..."

"I told you to shut up."

"She has to know..."

Vincent moved quickly, and instantly he was standing behind Sara, one hand around her throat and the other holding the wooden stake, aimed at her chest. "You need to keep your mouth shut, Margret. All she needs to know is that the Sirelords will decide her fate." Vincent began to walk, pushing Sara forward. She could feel the stake's point through her shirt, pressing into her skin.

He walked her past Margret, who watched wide-eyed. "Once Sara is settled in your room, we'll talk," Vincent said. "Then you will go into town and get her some clothes." When he got Sara to the staircase, he took the stake away from her chest and his other hand from her throat, using it to grab the back of her neck. "Up," he said.

Vincent's hand controlled how fast she climbed the stairs. He pushed her to the door that led to Margret's room. "Open it," he growled. She turned the knob and opened the door. With a shove, Vincent pushed her inside, she turned and watched as he closed the door. There was a click, and Sara knew he had locked her inside.

Sara stood looking out the window at the dark landscape. She could hear Vincent and Margret's muffled voices from downstairs and Sara could tell Margret was mad.

Worry began to creep into her soul. Why was Margret so upset about the Sirelords? And what was it that Vincent didn't want her to know? Her body had started to shake more as she stood there. The memory of the sword glinting in the firelight and of the stake pressing against her was still fresh, but so was his touch. How could she feel the things she felt in his arms? How could she feel even the slightest desire for him?

As she stared at the moonless sky, her body suddenly felt as light as air. "Oh Mother, I thank you for granting me a new beginning," she blurted out.

Walking towards the bed, she sat, not expecting to sleep because any minute Vincent could come through the door to kill her. She thought of Eric, wanting to go to him, to let him know she was still alive, but knew she couldn't.

Leaning into the pillows, her eyes trained on the bedroom door, two questions went through her mind as she began to doze off: Who were the Sirelords, and why was Margret so worried?

## About the Author

Jo lives in central Iowa and writes in many different genres, but she always includes at least a hint of romance.

She has always had a love for books, so when she's not writing or spending time with her family, you can find her, and probably one of her cats, behind a book.

Jo began writing as a hobby, and with the help of her son and some _Scrabble_ tiles, they came up with her first pen name, Jill H. O'Bones, to use to publish her stories. But as her writing matured, she knew it was time to start writing under a more professional pen name and has republished all of her books under her new pen name, Jo Rentschler.

Jill isn't gone, you'll still be able to find her writing during _National Novel Writing Month_ and visiting other various websites.

Jo would love to hear from you through Facebook @AuthorJoRentschler

