 
### The Keeper:

### Awakening

By OL Ramos

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by OL Ramos

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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

### 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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

#  Chapter 1

"The first and most important thing: forget everything you've heard or read. Forget everything you thought you knew. It's not like television, movies, or those fast food chains would have you believe. It's not glamorous, or beautiful either. It's ugly, feral...and dangerous."

"At least, that's what I was trying to convince everyone of. My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth McBeth. Don't even start with the jokes, I've probably heard them all by now. Anyway, I'm a typical college student, struggling to get good grades and pay my living expenses. Of course, in trying to prove my message and achieve my mission of global enlightenment, I've come across a lot of skeptics. The world can be so cynical. And it's not like parents listen anyway, right? Ah, I'm ranting, sorry. I do that."

"The truth is, for all my big talk, I'm just trying to explain what happened a long time ago to my mom. Ten years ago, my mother was snatched by... _something_. It moved really fast. Way too fast to be anything normal. It snuck into the kitchen while I was eating my breakfast and took my mother away from me. All things considered, I think I'm really well adjusted. I mean, my dad was always there, and he really tries to help me out. But he's never gotten over Mom leaving. He has spent the last decade thinking that she ran off with another man, or woman. He drinks a lot, not like A.A. a lot, but enough to drown his sorrows, or so he says."

"Ms. McBeth," the therapist interrupts. "You say your mother was snatched by something. What exactly do you mean, something?"

There it is. I can see it all over his face. The look starts at the forehead, continues down to the squinting of the eyes and the lips squeeze together as if stifling a smirk. I know that he thinks I'm crazy. This is a waste of time.

"Yes, doctor," I stifle a smirk of my own. "I saw something take my mother away from me. I know why I'm here. I have issues."

"'Issues' is usually a term used with very negative connotations, Ms. McBeth," he says as he adjusts those big round glasses on his face. Argh, I just want to punch him right in those glasses. Maybe I have an anger problem?

"Ms. McBeth? Are you listening to me?" the doctor asks, breaking me out of my daydream. "I was trying to explain something pretty important here."

I sigh. I know he thinks he's trying to help. But he didn't see what I saw that day. This is my first visit with this guy and I can already tell he's one of those uptight types who follow Freud to the letter.

"Sir, I meant no disrespect," I say, a half lie. "I was just trying to reflect on what you were saying."

He smiles. These types always smile.

"Ms. McBeth, you mentioned your father's drinking. Talk to me a bit more about that. Did he ever hit your mother? Any violence or confrontation in the home?"

I adjust myself in my seat. My father would have never done that. The question irks me.

"No doctor, my father isn't a violent man. The drinking was really only a social thing until my mother disappeared. And like I said, my father tries a lot. He just never really got over the whole thing."

The doctor clears his throat. Real professional. I subtly look at my watch. Thank goodness it's almost time to leave.

"How do you feel about your father's drinking, Ms. McBeth?" the doctor asks as he leans in and makes eye contact with me. If he's trying to comfort me or connect with me, he's doing a real lousy job of it.

"It used to bother me, but now I only feel sad for him," I answer without even thinking. Poor dad, I hope he never hears me say something like that. "And please doctor, I know this is our first session, but could you call me Liz or Izzy? That's what everyone calls me. This McBeth business makes me feel a lot older than I am."

"Okay Izzy," the doctor replies, finally unable to hold back his smirk. "And how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen," I report casually. At this point, I figure the doctor wants to make small talk.

"And why are you here?"

I've officially lost my temper.

"You know why I'm here doctor," I reply as sharply as I can. "I'm just trying to make my professors happy. I don't think I'm wrong in my way of thinking. And like I told you earlier, all things considered, I think I'm really well adjusted."

Well, that sucks. I really want to let him have it, but that's about all I can muster. I watch nervously as the doctor adjusts himself in his big executive-style leather chair. Oh boy, this guy must picture himself as some sort of big shot. He's going to let me have it for sure.

"Well, Izzy," the doctor starts snidely. "I'm here to help. You should know that." He reaches behind his chair towards his desk and pulls out a big clipboard with several sheets of paper attached. He yet again adjusts his glasses on his face and begins to read from the top sheet.

"You've already graduated from college...it says here you graduated before you even turned eighteen. With a major in literature?"

Great, now he's going to tell me my own life back to me. As if I had forgotten.

"You're now at the local university, heading into..." the know-it-all doctor turns the page and continues. "You're heading into your second year there. And you almost have your master's degree. Your professors all consider you brilliant, but eccentric. There's nothing new there, with brilliance others usually see eccentricity."

"Or so they say," I retort. What's the point of this exercise anyway?

"Izzy, why such hostility?"

Oh great. Every new therapist has their own way of doing things. But I'm fine the way I am. I can't stand that this guy is trying to relate to me. He isn't really on my side; he's just doing his job.

"It's not easy doctor," I answer as I put a serious expression on my face. Fine, I'll play along with him for a bit. "I understand the concern and I truly appreciate it. But it's frustrating because almost every semester I'm faced with this problem. I have ideas that are my own, you know? And maybe they are farfetched or even outrageous, but they're still my thoughts. I feel that if I actually made myself vulnerable enough to put my inner self out there, I should at least be given a certain amount of respect for being brave enough to leave myself vulnerable like that."

The doctor is truly taken aback. He wasn't expecting my answer. I got him completely fooled, but it's all for the best anyway. No one ever understands me.

"What kind of ideas do you have, Izzy?" the doctor asks before being interrupted. His timer has gone off to signify that the session is over. The gentle chiming is supposed to be soothing and gentle. But to me, it's a loud rock concert that pumps me full of adrenaline; it means I'm free of this guy.

"Well, I guess that's all of our time for today Izzy," the doctor says somberly. "I'll write my recommendation to the school. But if you ever need someone to talk to, please know that I would be more than happy to help."

He hands me his card and a smile, probably a fake smile, though. I play the part of grateful patient and grab it with my own version of a bogus smile and head out the office. I throw away the card at the first garbage can I see. I was hoping I could finally find someone to talk to this time, but as usual, it was yet another doctor, just doing his job.

I'm on a full scholarship, so the university wants me to sit there, make nice, and grow up to make them look like the perfect learning environment. The university can't have a black sheep running around, that's just not good for business, I guess. As I walk to my car I try to decide what to do with my free day from the books, but I'm kidding myself. I really have nothing close to having plans. I sit in my car and exhale in frustration.

I feel around in my purse, looking for my cell phone. I had turned it off out of courtesy to the great and all-knowing doctor. I grimace to myself when I see that I have voicemail. I hate voicemail. Anyone who calls your phone and leaves you a voicemail means that they wanted to talk to you, but couldn't, yet what they had to say was somehow important enough to leave a message. I am almost always guilted into returning the call. I really hate voicemail.

First in line is my dad. He mentions something about coming over for Thanksgiving and the usual questions about how I'm doing. My dad and I aren't really close, though not for his lack of trying. I just feel like he gave up on finding my mother, while I didn't. Second message is my boss, screaming bloody murder. Something about the restaurant being understaffed and if I could serve tables full time. I grimace once again. Last up is a conference call with my friends Cindy and Kat. I say friends, but really they're just girls I know from school. I'm kind of a loner mostly...they want to see if I'm able to do anything this weekend.

Going to Dad's for Thanksgiving is a given. I have nowhere else I'd rather be. As for my job...yuck. I really don't want to even think about it, so I decide to skip over the thought for now. And Cindy and Kat? I'm much too busy for fun. Even though I really wouldn't consider going out fun to begin with...well, I can maybe do something during the day, but I'm really busy at night. That's when I really work on my life's goal.

So what do I do at night? What's my life's goal?

I'll find what took my mother, and no amount of therapy, time, or medication will ever get me to stop looking for her. I have to know if she's still alive or if I'm just crazy and imagined the shadow that took her. And if I'm crazy...well, I don't want to think about that for right now either.

Like I said, I need to prove to myself that I'm not completely out of my mind. It mostly includes a lot of reading. Tons. Any libraries that are open, book stores—usually the trendy ones that serve ten dollar coffees—and web surfing. Lots of web surfing. Actually, it's _mostly_ web surfing now that I think about it. But I've also done some interviews with local "experts" and grave-raiding.

Hence why people think I'm certifiable. But I'm not. I don't think so, anyway.

I pull down the visor and look at my face in the mirror. Jeez, I really need some sleep. Not tonight, though. Tomorrow.

I reach for the radio and pause. On second thought, I don't want to listen to anything. I rush home, trying as best as I can to be patient with all the people in this city who should be arrested for just stepping into a car, much less driving one. Apparently, they'll give anyone a license nowadays. I run into my room at about mach 2 and change into my cutesy uniform, which I hate, and I'm right back out the door to get to work.

"Liz, you're late!"

I don't even have to look to know who's yelling at me. It's Jack, and he's really steaming. "Sorry Jack," I say as I rush to the kitchen. "I really have no excuse today. I had to go to another shrink; otherwise, the school would have kicked me out."

"Liz, you know I'm shorthanded," he says as he turns the corner. Poor Jack, he's been waiting tables again. That always puts him in a bad mood. I'd say the whole responsibility of running his own business is going to turn his hair white, but it can't get much whiter. Maybe silver. And I'm daydreaming again.

"Liz!" Jack shouts to snap me out of it, by now he's used to it. "I'm talking to you here! You know, your merciful boss. The guy who is still wondering why you're under his wing."

"Sorry again Jack, seriously," I spit out truthfully. "There's a lot going on. And as far as being understaffed is concerned, it's your own fault. You don't like anyone enough to give them a job."

"Hey, hey! This here is a family business. Every time I give someone a job, they leave me high and dry holding the bag. The last three girls quit without any explanation. And they never even answered their cell phones. Hell, they never even picked up their last checks!"

"Jack...we've gone over this," I explain to my poor boss as I put my hand on his shoulder. "You're overworked. I'm overworked. When you say family business, I hear, 'I make everyone in my family plus Liz work here.' And as far as the last three girls, I told you, there was something strange about them leaving. You really should listen to me about—"

"I don't want to hear this, Lizzy," Jack interrupts. "I don't wanna hear any more about this crazy crap. We've wasted two minutes already with this! There's no such thing as ghosts, shadows, goblins, or whatever else you think! Those three girls were friends, and they fell into the same stupid habit and left the place. I bet they ran out of town, too. With the exception of the university, there ain't much else for a kid your age to do around here. Now do me a favor and drop it, okay?"

The bell from the front door rings. Great, a customer.

"And while you're at it, Lizzy, attend whoever walked in. If you give me a heart attack, you'll be the one I'm haunting."

Jack does his best spooky wail and walks away in a really awkward way. Older men shouldn't act so goofy. But that's Jack for you. Screaming at me one minute, trying to make me laugh the next. He's been good to me.

I fix my blouse and head to the front of the restaurant to greet our fine connoisseur of exotic delicacies, and there he is. I've seen gorgeous guys, and I've watched movies. I've never seen a guy that gets much of a rise out of me, though. This guy makes my jaw drop. He's older than me, I think. 21, 22 maybe? But talk about tall, dark and handsome.

"Hey there," he says. "Do I sit myself? Or...?"

He has a great voice, too.

"Whichever you'd prefer," I answer, barely avoiding a stutter. "I don't want you being stingy on your tip."

Oh boy. He must think I'm an idiot. I try my best not to blush, but I bet I'm blushing.

"Alright," he says with a short smirk. "Don't worry about that. I'm pretty generous with my tips. Having said that, how about you sit me in a nice corner booth?"

He has a sexy, sarcastic air about him. I bet he has a great smile. I walk behind him and grab a menu. Jeez he's tall. And strong too—His muscles have muscles. what is this guy, some sort of football player?

"If you'd follow me please?" I say with a smile as I walk slowly towards the corner. I'm hoping he'd smile back.

He merely cups his lips and nods his head. He seems to be thinking about something else. Maybe his mind wanders like mine? Well, my mind is definitely wandering, because I didn't even notice the briefcase he is holding. It must have been those jade-colored eyes of his. I bet they're contacts. There's no way anyone has that eye color naturally. Eh...I lose myself for a second; I guess he's some sort of plastic guy. Or maybe even a pretty boy. No thanks, never cared for that type.

"Excuse me, miss?" he calls out to me. He raises an eyebrow as I meet his gaze. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, sorry," I say in total embarrassment. "I was just thinking about school."

"This booth is perfect," he says coolly as he takes a seat and places his briefcase on the table. "I really need to get some stuff done on the laptop, and the sunlight is a real hassle. You know?"

He opens up the briefcase and I manage to sneak a peek at tons of folders, printed paper, and newspaper clippings inside. He looks at me as he closes his briefcase and places a compact laptop on the table.

"So, are you a journalist or something?"

"Oh? You mean the paper clippings?" He looks back at his briefcase as he shakes his head. "No, nothing like that. It's more of a hobby, I suppose. So, what would you recommend, Liz?"

I catch a glimpse of his eyes again. I can't find the outer edge of the contacts; those might really be his eyes after all.

"So you're one of those that like to read nametags huh?" I ask wryly.

"I just like being polite, that's all," he replies after a short pause.

"Well, we have one heck of a porterhouse if you have an appetite," I suggest as I realize I'm pretty hungry myself.

"Porterhouse, huh? That sounds good. I'll take your advice and get that, rare please."

"Alrighty then," I answer with a smile, "and you get two sides. What would you like?"

"Surprise me," he replies, finally letting me see his smile. I was right; he's even more gorgeous when he's grinning.

"And what would you like to drink?"

"Well, you can give me a glass of water, that would be fine." He starts booting up his computer and turns to face me again.

"That's not very adventurous, you know, a big guy like you. I was expecting you to say something else actually. What are you, some sort of football player? A wannabe boxer?" I can't believe it. I'm actually hitting on this guy. I've never done this at all, period. Oh well, have to start somewhere, I guess.

"Not really, no," he says with a chuckle. "I'm just a transfer student. I'm going to the university here, UA. Just for a semester though."

"Really? Me too." I know it because I can feel it—I'm definitely blushing now. "Well, tell you what, we'll go halfsies. I'll get you a cup of water, and a drink. You look tense."

"All right, very well," he answers my prodding with another smile. I could get used to this.

"I need to see some ID, you know, for your drink." Totally obvious way to get his name. I am so lame.

He furrows his brow and licks his lips curiously. After a slight delay he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. It's black leather, just like I figured it would be. He searches for his ID as if trying to hide the contents of his wallet from me, serves me right I guess. He hands me his identification and I, of course, scour over it like some sort of federal agent.

"You're 28?" I say not being able to hide my incredulity.

"Which is why I always am surprised when I get carded," he answers.

I hand him back his ID and start to walk away. I feel his hand grab my wrist firmly, yet he also did it with an undeniable gentleness that's impossible to describe with words. It just felt...contradictory.

"You know, if you wanted to know my name, you could have just asked me, Liz. A pretty girl like you doesn't need to hide behind such transparent schemes."

And now, I'm mortified. Was I really that obvious?

"You must think a lot of yourself Michael," I say with a fake look of disgust that soon turns into a smirk of my own. "You figured me out though. What gave me away?"

"Call it a hunch. My hunches are usually pretty spot on."

"Is that a fact?" I reply as I turn around to face him completely. "Can your hunch tell you that I don't like a smart ass? I'm going to have the bartender make you something that's going to completely floor you."

"As if that's a bad thing," he says with a chuckle. A short, irresistible chuckle. He's actually starting to irritate me now, he's too much. "And besides, my hunch is telling me right now that you actually like a little cynicism. So go ahead, you and the bartender get together and plan against me. I can't wait for this awful conspiracy to come to light."

I smile, feeling a bit guilty. This guy is completely reading me like an open book. No one's ever done that. That means that this guy could be trouble for me.

"All right, I'm up to the challenge. I hope you won't hold it against me when I have to call you a cab."

My stomach complains loudly. Of all times to make a humiliating noise, why did my stomach choose this precise moment? I was almost gone. I grimace and look up at Michael's face.

"Excuse me; I haven't been able to get a bite to eat yet. It's been such a busy day. I'm so sorry."

I've gone into full meltdown mode.

"Okay, let me propose a deal to you then," Michael starts without skipping a beat. "If you can't floor me with your alcohol, you have to sit down and have a meal with me, right now. Everyone's got to eat, right? Ask your boss if he's okay with it, I wouldn't want you getting into trouble."

"Please," I retort, "Jack lets me get away with murder around here."

"Not really, I don't," Jack answers. He completely snuck up on me. "But this young man's right. You should know better than to come into a shift with an empty stomach. If you lose, you sit and eat with him."

"But—"

"No buts, Lizzy," Jack completely cuts me off. Then to prevent my retaliation, he walks swiftly to the other side of the restaurant. I just can't win.

"There you have it Liz," Michael states calmly. "You heard Jack. It kind of sounded like a direct order."

I nod my head and walk away. I don't even know what to say any more. But I do know who I want to talk to. I rush my way over to Jack and pull on his sleeve.

"Jack, you're killing me!"

"Listen to me sweetie," Jack explains. "I've known you and your father for a long time. I've never seen you even speak with a boy, much less flirt with one. You're beautiful and you have such a good head on your shoulders. Any boy would be lucky to have you, but you never let yourself have fun. That boy there seems like he wants to take you out; let a guy take you out for a change. Besides, I saw you giving him the drool face."

"What?! Drool face?"

"For a genius, you're pretty oblivious," Jack says dryly. "You're into the guy. It's not a crime. Besides, a guy that size, it'll take a lot of alcohol to put that giant down. And frankly, we need the money and you need the tips. So go, go, go! Bat your eyelashes and those pretty green eyes of yours and sell our food!"

"You're terrible!" I respond, just short of a yell. "What's next, Jack? You going to change the uniform to make our food a little more sexy?"

"I've thought about it," he confesses as he looks in the fruit refrigerator. "I am a businessman after all. But I wouldn't do that to you or your dad. You get hit on enough as it is, we don't need any more trouble. Especially with that mouth of yours."

"I defend myself against one table of misogynistic perverts, and you'll just never let it go, will you?"

"For Christ's sake Liz, you punched a guy in the face. I'm all for that women's freedom crap and all that, but you don't punch customers in the face. Now scoot."

I know my face is pouty right now, but there's nothing I can do about it. The whole situation has me flustered. I decide to give up and sigh, turning to walk away.

"Hey, you know if you and that guy get together, your babies will have some pretty green eyes and one hell of an attitude!" Jack yells as he laughs loudly.

At least this fiasco happened in the kitchen. You see, most of Jack's business lies in repeat customers. He wasn't lying when he said the university was the only thing to do in town. Well, that and Jack's Place. Almost everyone here knows one another, and this bar and grill is the only place that people have to socialize. Who would have thought that such a prestigious university would be in this one-horse town? I continue racing through my thoughts as I place Michael's order and chat it up with the bartender, Roy. I have to butter him up pretty good, but luckily, he's more than willing to spike Michael's drink with mostly liquor after I compliment him once or twice.

"Here's your water. You're going to need it," I say, and place Michael's glass of water in front of him but pay care to not be anywhere near the laptop he is working with. Michael's eyes are poring over all the information on the screen at a really fast rate. So he's not just a pretty face on a hot body, huh? Interesting.

"Thanks for that. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet, Mikey boy," I say confidently as I put a tall blue drink in front of him. "That right there might be dangerously high in alcohol content. But it's nothing a big tough guy like you can't handle, right?"

He raises both of his eyebrows and looks at me as he closes his laptop.

"Mikey? Only my father ever really called me that," Michael states as he pushes the cup of water to the side and grabs the death drink that will ensure my victory. "So, this is going to do me in, huh?"

I tilt my head to the side, wondering if I offended him or overstepped any boundaries.

"Yeah, that drink's really strong; just take it easy, okay?" I caution him. I didn't want to lose, but I didn't want to call an ambulance, either.

I guess I wouldn't mind losing. Maybe.

"Want to double the stakes?" Michael asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like to take you out later tonight—that is, if I win," he replies immediately. "So, how about, you make the strongest drink you can possibly make, because this isn't it, and bring me two of those. If I manage to drink all three, you have to have lunch with me now and dinner with me later. Any place you'd like, of course."

I laugh at the absurdity.

"This is the only place in town. Besides, you're talking like you won't be off your ass after that," I explain. "You're going to be done after that right there. There's no need for two more, especially not two more drinks stronger than that one."

"Very well, so then you don't have a thing to worry about, right?"

At this point, I'm having a real tough time trying to figure out if Michael is annoying me or intriguing me. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for right now.

"Fine, but go ahead and try to drink that, hotshot, you're going to be eating alone to—"

I stop myself from putting my foot in my mouth any deeper. Michael has drunk the entire glass, without even flinching, in what is probably record time. I step back and look at him. I'm half expecting him to belch or throw up. But he doesn't do either. He just places the glass back on the table and goes back to work on his laptop, again, without skipping a beat.

"All right, that's lunch, why don't you bring me the other two drinks so I can guarantee dinner?" Michael says coyly.

I take the empty glass and head back to Roy. I imagine the shock was pretty evident on my face.

"What, he couldn't handle it?" Roy asks with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Not exactly," I correct him. "Not only could he handle it, he chugged it. He literally drank it without a pause. He must be some frat champion or something."

"Well damn," Roy admitted with a puzzled expression, one he wore often. "I put almost nothing in there to chase it. He drank a cupful of almost pure liquor; I only splashed a little mix in there."

"This time, don't splash it," I instructed in a frustrated tone. I'll admit it, Michael was getting under my skin, and I don't like losing. Maybe I can get him so hammered he won't remember a thing. Yeah, he was probably just putting up a brave front right now. The liquor will probably hit him by the time I get back to his table. "Better yet, don't splash anything in it. There will be no splashing. There's going to be a lot of pouring. And make it the strongest thing we have in this place."

Roy's eyes widened. "Listen, Pa told me about this guy already. So he wants to have lunch with you, what's the big deal?"

"Please, Roy, just do as I'm asking you, okay? I don't like pleading."

"Fine," he answers as he scrounges around under the bar. "But listen, Lizzy, this here is going to be like one mega cup of hangover. It's basically going to be filled with nothing but shots."

"That's great, make it able to bring down a bear, I'm going to need two of those."

"Two of them?!" Roy asks incredulously, loud enough to interrupt the entire place.

"Sorry folks, continue your meal!" I shout at the patrons, trying to get the attention off Roy and me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Michael laughing in his booth. At this point, I'm way past feeling embarrassment. He was going down.

"What the hell is going on over here?"

Great, Jack is back.

"Nothing Jack." I begin to explain my clever plan. "I was just telling your son over here the order of one of our customers." I smile at Roy.

"Stop dragging your heels boy, just do what she's asking," Jack orders.

I notice Roy's harsh stare. I probably deserve it. I would apologize later, definitely. But right now, I just have to win. I wait patiently and full of confidence while he makes the drinks. He wasn't kidding, I think. I was getting drunk just off of the smell coming from the glasses. I place Michael's drinks on my tray and take them over to his booth.

"Here you go. Good luck sport," I whisper sarcastically. No way was this macho routine going to keep going.

But then, he drinks both of them, just as fast as he drank the first drink. He once again closes his laptop and looks up at me.

"Well then, get comfortable," Michael says calmly. "Not much kick in the alcohol, huh? I guess you let me win?"

I sit down reluctantly. I really hate losing.

"Well, you can't just expect me to give up can you?" I ask with a renewed sense of hope. "You might feel it any second now, and then, you lose."

"I really don't think that's going to be a problem you need to worry about."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." I was in complete denial.

"So, what are you having?" Michael asks me as he picks up my tray. I'm not sure if he's mocking me or trying to be sweet. I guess I was just too angry to note the difference.

"All right, you win, I'll take care of the order," I answer as I rise up and grab my tray from him. I hide my smile as I walk away. "I'll be back."

"I can't wait."

And that would turn out to be the best lunch I've had in a while....

#  Chapter 2

After lunch, I'm more flustered than ever. Michael is great. He's funny and charming...and as much as I _really_ hate to admit it, he's a pretty smart guy. I don't know him well enough to admit it, but for now, I'd have to bet that he's just one of those guys that is a perfectionist.

As if it isn't enough that he's gorgeous, it feels to me as if he wants his mind to be his sharpest tool. We talk politics, current events, jeez, we even argue about the intricacies of Freud's approach on psychology. I love psychology, and I figure maybe the jock has some skeletons in his closet. But I'm wrong. He responds without hesitation to my not-so-subtle inquisitions. I am trying to probe his mind; to find out if he's just another pretty face. But the deeper I probe, the more fascinated I become. He knows his stuff, and he knows it well.

We agree to meet at Jack's Place later that evening after my shift is over. I'd gone over it with Jack, and he was ecstatic to find out I was actually going through with it. So Jack lets me leave Michael inside the restaurant, having some drinks and whatnot, while I go home, get showered and inform dad of the evening's plan. Of course, we will have to go out of town to find a decent place to eat at that hour, but Michael is completely fine with it.

I know everyone talks about the "honeymoon phase" and all, but I really am feeling comfortable with Michael. He kept me challenged intellectually, which I need. It's been forever since I had someone I could relate to. And yeah...he wasn't so hard on the eyes either. But, I'm getting way ahead of myself. I sigh as I open the front door to my house, only to sigh again when I see dear old dad passed out in front of the television, drink in hand. Poor Dad. He must have worried himself sick from me not returning his phone calls and decided to wait for me here.

I take the bottle away from him and help him lay on the couch, all the while second-guessing myself on whether giving him a key to my house was a good idea or not. I make him as comfortable as I can before I head upstairs to get ready. Throughout the refreshing shower the same two options flash throughout my head: do I go for sexy or sensible? Do I even _know_ what sexy is?

"Heck with it," I complain aloud as I look through my closet. "I'll wear what I want to wear and that'll be the end of it. If he doesn't like it, he isn't worth my time."

It occurs to me briefly that maybe I'm going a little overboard with this whole date thing. Just a tad, though.

I rush out of the house as quickly as possible and make my way back to what should probably be classified as my real home, Jack's Place. After all, it feels like I spend more time there than anywhere else. I unlock the front door with my keys and look around the bar.

To my shock, Jack, who is rather protective of me, is playing darts with Michael and Roy. And they seem to be having a great time. What the hell is this guy, a magician? He cleans up real nice too. As I examine his outfit, I can't help feeling underdressed. Only thing he's missing is a tie. He doesn't need one, either.

"Oh, hey you," Michael says as his eyes match mine. "We cleaned up and thought, why not, you know?"

"You he-helped clean up?" I stammer

"The thing of it was, darlin'," Jack begins as he takes his cap off to scratch his head. "We had some trouble with the Baker boys around closing time. Michael was here, and he helped calm the situation down. It was nothin', really."

I stare at the three men furiously. "Jack, how many times have I told you to kick those damn Bakers out of here before they get ornery?! You know they make for some mad drunks!" I yell in frustration. "What'd they wreck this time?!"

"Take it easy, Lizzy," Roy says as he places his hands up in front of him, trying to soothe me. "You had already left. You know Pa ain't going to let you in on something that could had gotten ugly. Besides, like Pa said, everything went fine."

"Seriously Liz," Michael assures with his commanding voice. "All the punks did was try to knock over the pool table. They were just a bunch of guys that don't know when to put the bottle down. Jack and Roy told me all about them. Anyone can have a bad day."

I look at the pool table, fearing the worst. But it hasn't moved. What...? "The pool table. It hasn't even been moved."

"Well, the thing of it is, Michael was quick to get them boys out of here," Jack explains as he looks at his son and then back at me. "He made a mad dash to the table, set it down, and then picked up those three like newborn pups and tossed em' out!"

"Yeah, we were behind the counter," Roy continues. "There wasn't really anything we coulda done. But man, your boy Michael carried those jokers out of here like they were angry squirrels."

Michael bows his head to conceal his toothless smile. Only the right side of his mouth grins, but it was enough. The boys had had some fun, all right.

"You got the Bakers out of here, by yourself, while they were drunk? And managed to save the billiard table also?"

Michael looks back up at me, this time with a full smile. "Well, pool tables are expensive and hard to come by."

I scoff and shake my head and turn to head outside. "If we're going to eat, let's go already," I announce, mildly irritated. "It's past midnight and we still have to drive a while."

Michael looks at Roy and Jack and shakes their hands before following me outside. He's patient, that much I can't deny. I know I wouldn't have put up with my outburst like that.

"Did I anger you?" I hear Michael ask as the door closes behind him. I turn to face him, not expecting to see worry on his face. So he wasn't so suave after all, huh?

"The Baker boys will be back you know," I explain with a deep breath. Least I can do is be civil. "And you won't always be here to pick up the mess they make. Besides, what if they end up acting like the kids they are and find you in a back alley somewhere? It's not like we're in short supply of shadowy corridors around here."

"Thanks," Michael says with a reassuring smile, his confidence returning. "I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."

"So you'd like me to think."

"Where are we going, anyway? Like you said, this might be a party town because of the university, but it _is_ after midnight."

"Ah Mikey," I reply knowingly. "I might not get out much, but I do know what makes a party town a party town. It's not what's _in_ the town, it's what's _around_ it. We have all sorts of things we can do. There's a bar about twenty miles south of here that serves food up until four, even though it's a weekday. Or, if you'd rather catch a movie or play skeeball or something like that, we can go up north about twenty-five miles or so, give or take."

"Skeeball, huh?" Michael replies with a smile as he bites his lips. "That's one way to paint the town red. Been a bit since we ate. You hungry?"

I nod, trying desperately to not give any more clues away.

"Twenty miles from here..." Michael thinks aloud to himself. "You're talking about Franco's, right? Just off the expressway, near the lake?"

"Yeah, didn't think you'd know that much already," I admit candidly. "I thought you were just going to be here for a semester; how do you know about Franco's?"

"A gentleman has to have his sources," he says with a bow as he motions to his car. "Hop in, or we can take your car. Whatever you'd like."

Here's Michael, this really tall, muscular guy, and he totally has this vibe about him, this tough guy thing going on. I 'm expecting a big SUV or like a really loud and annoying motorcycle. But I'm looking at a dark blue sedan that must have been from the 50's. Totally not what I was expecting.

"What? You don't like it?" Michael says with a furrowed brow, obviously disappointed. "I'm into old cars...I like to buy them and rebuild them as best as I can. It's great exercise too, believe it or not. Plus, things were just really classy back then, you know?"

I pause as I stare at him. My smile slowly forms before it turns into a full out laugh. I fail miserably at composing myself. Michael looks genuinely hurt.

"What? What is it?"

"I was totally expecting you to be in this red or bright yellow gas guzzler. And you show up in something from six decades ago?"

"What's wrong with the classics?" Michael asks as he tilts his head to the side and scratches his face.

"Nothing, really, nothing at all," I say honestly. "It's just...you're _so_ not what you make yourself out to be! You walk into Jack's like a boxer or some James Dean wannabe. I was expecting at _least_ a motorcycle. You're just...you're really different. You're kind of a weirdo."

"I'm the weirdo?" Michael says as he frowns and purses his lips. "That's interesting. Coming from someone called Elizabeth McBeth. I think you're just sore you lost twice to me today. Or is it that you just can't handle a car that's not digital?"

"Oh no...you did not...just," I run at him laughing, and punch him in the chest playfully. He smiles at me and looks down at me as he holds me in a hug. This is nice. Very nice. I push myself away from him before I blush myself to death. "It's my dopey way of trying to compliment you. I'm sorry."

"Sticks and stones, right?" Michael says as he opens up and the passenger side door, waiting for me. "That is, if you'll still go with me?"

I smile and nod as I make my way to his car and sit down. A gentleman? That probably won't last long. He makes his way to the driver's seat and starts the car. I immediately notice that the car has a modern radio and speaker system in it. That couldn't have been easy to accomplish.

"I thought you liked the classics?" I kid as I point at the flashy radio system.

"Well, I'm not exactly in the stone age, either," he answers with a smile and a turn of his head. "Some of the stuff after 2000 was good. But my true love is good rock-n-roll. It tells a story, you know? Some of that you can find in the 90s, but you mostly have to go down from there."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that."

"What? Why's that?"

"You wear a black leather jacket. Who wears those anymore?" I ask jokingly as I take a look at the back seat to see it right there, probably staring right back at me if it could.

"Hey, it's a jacket," Michael says as he smiles and points his finger to his back seat. "And don't get on me about my jacket. I love that jacket. It gets cold up here. Besides, it was my father's."

Sensing I had hit a sensitive issue, I sidestep the disaster that could have been and continue with the chitchat. We continue discussing our musical tastes all the way to Franco's. Mike really surprised me with his musical tastes, even though some of his favorites were so easy to tell just by the clothing he wore, namely the leather jacket he was so quick to defend.

When we finally make it to Franco's, there is a huge line, even though it's pretty late. Michael walks right up to the bouncer, who is now a man of below average size in comparison to Michael, and the bouncer actually opens the door for us. The bouncer even thanks Michael for coming in. I must have missed a bribe or something there. We make our way to the corner booth and take our seats.

"I'm not drinking, so you can if you'd like," he says to me with a hint of a joke coming on. "That is, unless you feel like you don't want to drive my car back."

"Oh, ha ha," I shake my head, mocking irritation. "For your information, I'm not twenty-one yet. So, technically I can't."

"Really?" Michael says as he places both his elbows on the table. "You're saying you've never drank? Anything?" I shake my head, now as embarrassed as humanly possible. "Wow," Michael says as he eases back into his seat. "That's really impressive. Good for you. I figured a beautiful girl like you would be out at all the parties, getting it out of your system. Interesting ,though."

"Please..." I begin to say timidly. "I don't go out, really. I mostly read and watch movies when I can. And cut it with that 'beautiful girl like you' stuff. To quote a classic movie, 'I bet you say that to all the girls.' Don't you? I'm sure that's what all guys say, but it won't work on me. Understand?"

He smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. "You're something else," Michael announces. "You really have me at a loss. You are really interesting Ms. McBeth. And...no, I do not say that to all the girls. As far as what other guys might say...well, don't ever let anyone tell you anything different. You're really beautiful, I mean it. I don't lie, it's a real strict policy of mine. My father instilled it in me when I was—"

"Michael!" a man screams, interrupting Michael's story. Damn it. "It's been ages!"

The man goes right up to Michael and has to reach up to hug him. This guy has to be in his forties at least, looks rather short, but then again, everyone looks short next to Michael. Either way, damn him for interrupting the juicy story!

"I can't believe you've brought a lady friend here!" the man continues as he now turns his gaze to me. "Wow, and what a looker! I didn't think you were interested in anything other than work!"

"Liz, this is an old friend of mine, David Petrolos," Michael explains. "He's the owner of this sleaze shack."

"We're not such good friends that I won't kick you up and down this fine establishment, Michael!" David argues jovially. He extends his hand and I present my own rather reluctantly. I'm still fuming about the interruption.

"You look great David," Michael says with a smile and a wink.

"Not half as good as you Michael!" David says before turning his attention back to me. "You know, you have no idea how happy I am to finally see Michael with a young lady. It's always work, work, work with this guy!"

David might have interrupted Michael's story, but he's just given me a big piece of information. Maybe even the reason why Michael is single. If he works so much, no woman would want to be with a workaholic, right? Or am I grasping at straws? And if David and he are such old friends, how is it that Michael has only been in town such a short amount of time?

"Liz?" Michael whispers softly to me. Even his whisper demands priority over the loud music of Franco's ambiance. I snap out of my trance. "You all right? You just kept staring out into space when David was talking to you."

"I'm sorry Michael," I confess awkwardly. "I just don't understand. You're only in town for a semester, right? How do you know David so well? An old friend?"

"Yeah, those are expressions," Michael answers sarcastically as he begins to squeeze the lime in his water glass. "We use them all the time here on Earth. For example, 'I could eat a horse' does not literally refer to me eating said horse." He smiles at me and chuckles. I fling my lime at him in frustration. Maybe I was looking too much into it. And besides, there are so many things worse than being a workaholic.

Right?

The evening is even better than lunch. I really open up to Michael, even going as far as admitting I love martial arts. Problem is, I'm about as dexterous as a drunken elephant on roller-skates. He promises to help me with that. I chalk that up to first date talk, but he shows me pictures from his house on his phone. He's a pretty accomplished martial artist, it seems. That would explain his physique.

It seems the more I learn about him, the better he gets. And that truly scares me. Good things don't usually happen to me. I'm terrified.

After dinner we say our goodbyes to David and the bouncer, who is a real sweet guy, and Michael lets me drive back to Jack's Place. I can tell what he meant about the difference in driving a classic. I'd rather take a modern car any day, though.

When we pull up at the parking lot of Jack's, there is my reason to be afraid. My trademark bad luck streak has proven itself true again. The Baker boys are there, and they have trouble on their minds. Michael leaps out of the car to his feet before I even finish parking the car.

"Call the police, now," Michael says calmly as he throws his dinner jacket into the car and heads towards the Bakers.

The oldest Baker brother, Ira, steps right up to Michael. He always was the dumbest.

"You got the stench of a privileged city boy all over you!" Ira screams with a finger to Michael's chest. The other two brothers begin circling around Michael to surround him, but Michael doesn't seem concerned. "All you did was take advantage of three smaller guys than you, whilst they was drunk! You call yourself a man?!"

"And what would you propose would make me a man?" Michael says as he looks around. "Winning a three-on-one fight? Would that make me a man in your eyes? We don't have to fight. I'd prefer nonviolence; these people have been real good to me. I don't want to betray their hospitality."

I sprint towards the feuding group as soon as I finish informing the police and Jack about what's going on. "Ira, come on now, you know this is only going to make things worse for everyone," I plead sincerely. Inside, my heart is begging Ira to not ruin my evening further. "Michael's right. You guys don't have to fight. Where's the sense in that?"

"She's right Ira," Michael agrees immediately. "If we fight, I could get hurt, or you or your brothers could get hurt. There's no need for any of this. What do I have to do to make things square? I can buy you a couple rounds, would that make you feel better?"

"Michael, huh?" Ira says mockingly. He spits at Michael's feet and looks up at his chin. "I bet you have a glass jaw, city boy. Is that why you're so pretty? You buy your way out of fights?"

"Just trying to be civil, that's all," Michael replies calmly, his hands raised up peacefully. "I especially don't think we should act this way in front of a lady."

"Lizzy?! A lady?!" Ira says as he snorts out a loud laugh, looking at his brothers. "Word around town is Lizzy doesn't like boys at all. Would rather be with a book anyhow! That's not a lady!"

I watch as Michael begins to clench his fists tightly. He's getting angry, and it doesn't seem like he is intimidated by the obvious disadvantage he has in numbers.

"If I were you, Ira," Michael says coldly with a deathly calm, "I would apologize to Liz right now and walk away. Make yourself hard to find for a bit. That's the friendliest advice I can give you."

The Baker boys begin to dance and stomp on the ground like playground thugs. They are acting like children, but Michael remains extremely calm. Too calm for a person in his situation.

"Alrighty then Mike, that's what we'll do," Ira says as he reaches way up there to place his hand on Michael's shoulder. "We're going to apologize and walk away. But first, I gotta have something to apologize for."

Ira grabs Michael's shoulder and drives his right hand into Michael's gut before backing away. Michael stands firm and unfazed; he merely moves his head around and cracks his neck.

The Baker boys seem more than a little shocked at this point, and decide to run for their truck. I mistakenly think it is over, but all they do is bring construction equipment from their flatbed. Ira is holding a nail gun, his two brothers a wrench each.

I've had my share of fights to break up, but this is on a totally new level. People could seriously get hurt here, or maybe worse. As I take a step towards the Bakers, I feel Michael's firm yet gentle hand stop me as he pushes me softly away. Before I know it, I'm backpedalling just to avoid falling from Michael's insane strength. He really doesn't know his own power.

As soon as I realize I am lost in my own thoughts again, the fight is over. It literally could not have taken more than two seconds. The Bakers are on the floor and Michael has stashed the nail gun and wrenches back on their flatbed.

The police arrive shortly after and then Jack shows up a little later. What a night. The Bakers are arrested for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, trespassing, and public drunkenness.

They've ruined my perfect night.

I don't hear from Michael for quite a while. Not a phone call, not a visit at work. At first, I think it's just the ordinary guy routine, playing hard to get or whatever. But after a week and a half, I figure it out.

Michael just can't handle my baggage and the baggage that came attached with Jack's Place.

I want to hate him but I can't. Who wants to go on a second date when the first ended in an interview with two police officers in the back of a squad car?

So much for happy endings...

#  Chapter 3

After a while, you start to let things that really irk you or gnaw at you slide off your back. At least... that's what I _wanted_ to believe. I just kept telling myself that, and somehow I was going to make it real.

But it never felt real. I was lying to myself.

I guess what bothered me the most was that I finally had my guard penetrated only to be ignored and left alone again. I don't know how, or why, I felt the way I did about Michael... But I did. There was no denying that. It was only one day really, but it felt like so much more.

I could lose myself in the memories of that day. It felt nice to be an ordinary girl for once. It felt, well, normal, I guess. But it wasn't just that. He had managed to make me forget about my pain, my haunted past. Was I being selfish or was I truly attracted to the man? Can you be attracted so strongly to someone you just met? I don't know, I never bothered to actually meet anyone. And having to deal with the consequences of not knowing why Michael left me alone had made me feel even emptier than before.

But... maybe it was my baggage. Who am I fooling, anyway? Only myself and maybe poor Jack. Jack tries on a daily basis to tend to me and my broken feelings. I smile and lie, "I'm all right, really." Yet every day I get the same look, the same offers and questions...I am transparent.

Eventually I resume my life as if nothing had ever happened and I never met the guy. Better off for everyone I tell myself. And then I bump in to him at the library.

"Michael?" I shudder noticeably as I feel my purse strap fall to my wrist. "What, why...? You never came back. You just left me wondering. Why would you do that? Did the Baker boys really rattle you that badly?"

I observe him carefully as I start with my inquisition. I want him to know I'm mad as calmly as I can, but I'm not going to take being ditched easy either. He looks at me with his jade-colored eyes and inhales deeply before motioning to a nearby reading table. He has a book piled on top of his laptop in his hand; impressive he could balance that. The book's title is a little creepy, "Slavic Folklore." Never seen that piece here, and I'm always here...

After a short walk we sit down at the table and I cross my arms. I want an explanation and it had better be a good one.

"It's not the Bakers or anything like that," Michael whispers softly as he conspicuously maneuvers the book away from my prying eyes. "I've been busy with work and school. And if you remember, I don't exactly have your phone number either. I had to go away for a while."

"What do you consider a while?" I reply in relative outrage. "It's been weeks, you could've mailed me a card or something to Jack's. You're always with that laptop of yours; I know you could have searched for the address if you didn't have it handy. You're not giving me much to go on. I thought we had a good time, a connection. I trusted in you, and then...you just left."

Michael's face is pained. I feel the hurt he is showing with his expression. All of a sudden, my feelings of confusion, doubt, and loneliness pour all over me as they burst through the gates of my denial. I'm uncharacteristically pouring my heart out to this guy, whom I barely knew, and he looks to be sincerely apologetic.

"I feel a kinship with you, Liz," he responds with a sigh. "I understand what you must think of me. I don't—I didn't mean to hurt you. It wasn't my intention to be away for so long; my business just had me carried away for longer than I expected. I know you don't open up easily. I know it took a lot to get you to go out with me and then I ruined your gesture. But I swear to you, if it wouldn't have been for my work, I would have returned immediately. Besides, I'm actually staying here longer than I anticipated. Something's come up."

"What?" I try my best to mind my tone and volume, but I'm really about to lose it here. "You haven't even told me what you do for a living or what you're studying. I looked around for you at school, I couldn't find you. No one knew who you were. It's like you didn't even exist."

"I wasn't lying when I said I went to the same school," he answers calmly as he sits back at ease in his chair. His carefree attitude annoys me. "Did you ask any of the teachers about me? I don't attend classes with students. I'm sort of a special case, like you are."

"What do you mean, a 'special case' like me? Most people up there think I'm a freak or crazy. This is a small town, Mike, everyone knows what happens here. Everyone has heard of my 'delusions' or my 'irrationally paranoid theories.' Is that what you mean?"

"You're extremely quick to judge me, Ms. McBeth," Michael says as he leans forward and places his elbows on the table. "I meant 'special case' as in a special interest to the school. You're known among all of the teaching staff because of your genius. I'm known because I have made special arrangements with the school to only have classes with teachers and professors on a one-on-one basis, when their time permits, of course."

"What?!" I shout in disbelief. I hear someone shushing me from behind me, but I don't care at this point. "You expect me to believe that one of the biggest, most prominent universities is letting you get one-on-one classes? What do you take me for, some sort of idiot? This isn't ancient Greece!"

"Please, lower your voice," he pleads softly as his eyes dart around the building. He obviously is desperately trying to avoid this scene. I know I'm being dramatic, but he's being outrageous. "It's all true. You never asked me what I took at the campus, or who my teachers were. I have contributed a sizeable amount to the institution to allow me these privileges. And even then, it's more like a hobby of mine, to constantly be learning. My business keeps me very occupied, and I don't need a fancy degree to do what I do. But you never asked anything about what I did for a living or about my classes. So how can you possibly be upset with me? If these things concerned you so, you should have asked instead of accusing me of deception."

"Deception?" I whisper sharply as I start to mellow out. "Why are you talking like that? I didn't outright call you a liar."

"No, you merely _implied_ I was one. Your eyes also accused me of betraying you, and I didn't like the look of them. I didn't want you to call me a traitor with just a look. I told you before; I have a _real_ issue with honesty. Being called a liar is like gouging my eyes; it's a cheap shot."

After looking at him coldly for a short moment, I finally concede. He's right and I am acting like the typical whiny teenager I'm always complaining about. I never did ask him about his business or even his major. Am I really that self-centered?

"I'm sorry," I relent. "I just thought you were trying to slink your way out of owning up to me. I thought about you, I was worried. I thought the Bakers might have gotten to you somehow, or that I scared you off. I'm not usually like this, I promise. It's you. It's you that make me this way and I'm a little resentful of it."

He nods his head almost knowingly. He blinks his eyes and then cups his face with his hands.

"We spent a lot of time together," he said, his face still dug in his hands. "Especially for a first date. I can understand the way you feel. I suppose I would feel the same if our roles were to be reversed. Without question, I do hold some blame. I should have written you at least. For that I also apologize."

We share another awkward period of silence before I slide my hands on the table and try to pry his hands away from his face. His hands and cheeks are on fire. He is running a terrible fever, yet he seems perfectly comfortable.

"You're ill," I point out in concern. "You must be at a hundred and five at least! We have to get you to the hospital. You've been working yourself to death."

Michael chuckles softly before placing my hand over his chest. His chest is even warmer than his face and hands. He smiles at me mysteriously.

"I was born this way," he says calmly. "Maybe you didn't notice it on our first date as we barely touched, and it was particularly cold. This is my normal temperature ever since I was an infant. I drive my doctors insane. One doctor described it as a persistent hyper metabolism."

"But that's impossible," I answer incredulously. "Your body would never last this long if it was always running like that. Hyper metabolism usually occurs after a bad trauma to the body. We're talking life threatening car wreck damage. How can your body always be this way?"

"No doctor can explain the cause," he answers nonchalantly. "I can tell you, though, I'm very impressed with your knowledge on the subject. You could pass for pre-med."

"I'm trying to be serious," I argue in frustration. "What happens to you when you get sick? Do you get even warmer? That has to be causing some sort of brain and liver damage."

"Listen to me," he says as he moves my hand to the left side of his chest. I feel his powerful heart thundering inside him. "I'm fine. I might be relatively rare with my condition, but I can tell whether I feel ill or not. Don't worry, okay?"

I sigh reluctantly and give up on the issue. He must know his body better than I do. And if every doctor he's been to has cleared him, I mean, what can I do or say? He's not going to take me doubting him again very well.

"What do you do for a living, anyway?" I ask to change the topic before I dwell on it longer. "You have to be making serious bucks to have the university owing you favors."

"I work for the environment," he explains as he releases my hand and removes a pad and pen from his jacket's inner pocket. "It's mostly pro bono work, but when I do get paid, it's very rewarding. I also inherited a considerable fortune from my father when he passed..."

I've never even asked him about his parents. The shock leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth. As I replay our first date's events in my mind, I come to the dreadful conclusion that all I did was mostly talk about myself. Michael had just listened and chimed in with a sarcastic quip or a joke or two.

"So, you're rich too, huh?" I ask wryly. Great. And he's a charity worker. And I just told him off. I'll have to remember to pry my foot out of my mouth later. "This business, is it your own? Or do you work for a company I might know about?"

"It's a family owned business. My father left it in my hands completely when he died and I've been struggling to find my way ever since. It's been in my family for a very long time. You could say it's our life's blood."

"And you're staying in town longer now? Because of business?"

"That's right," Michael says as he writes down something on the pad and rips out the paper, handing it to me. "And there's all my info, in case you ever need it again. Two cell phones and an email, just in case you'd rather write me."

I take the paper and hold back a smile as I examine it. He's got some seriously nice handwriting for a guy.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you write like a girl?" I say with a soft laugh. Michael blushes as he looks down and laughs to himself. "So you're _only_ staying because of business?"

"Not quite," he answers as he looks back up at me. I notice those jade orbs focusing on my lips. He turns away as if to avoid temptation. Well, at least I wasn't the only one fighting it back. "I'd like to get to know you more. Spend more time with you, if you're available."

"That depends," I say aloofly. "I guess we'll see how everything works out. Maybe you can meet me at work later. We'll have to see if I'm not too busy. Things have been piling up on my plate during your absence, Mr. Clarke."

He smiles, seeming slightly annoyed. He still appears playful, though. But I'm not going to push my luck.

"It's good to know you remembered my last name," he states jovially. "And to think, the only mention of it was way back when you read it on my ID. Interesting."

"What's really interesting is your reading material," I point out as I stand up and reach for it. Michael attempts to hide it, but ultimately gives it up. "I thought you said you were too busy with work? This here would suggest otherwise. And I really doubt you got this thing from this library, I've been through most of the books here...especially on this subject."

"The book, in a way, is related to my environmental work. My resources have informed me that there's a corporation intent on leveling a large part of the forestry here. They're planning on cutting down tons of trees to build several strip malls and other places like that. They're going to kill this little town. It'll go from being a charming little hamlet to being a typical run-of-the-mill city you can find at thousands of other places in the country. Not to mention the animals; they'll get run off their land. Can you imagine how much of a problem that'll cause for you and your neighbors?"

"That sounds really boring," I admit with a giggle. "It also sounds scary. But where does Slavic folklore fit in?"

"The man mainly responsible for this move is Russian," he answers in a very matter-of-fact tone. "He's also extremely superstitious. The project will require his extended presence in the area for a while. I figured I'd make it seem like the woods were haunted; then maybe he'd be too scared to pick this town. There are other places he has his eyes on, after all."

I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Michael merely furrows his brow at me. "This sounds like one of those adventures with the teens in the van and that talking dog," I say in between my laughter. "This is the best you could come up with?"

"You don't understand; we don't win much. It's not as if I can punch the guy in the face and force him to relocate. I have to be civil about this; it's the only way. And this man is extremely superstitious. He won't come if he's convinced the place houses some ghosts from his homeland. Besides, you mentioned this is a hobby of yours? The subject, I mean."

"You're bound to find out sooner or later," I say aloud, silently hating myself for the confession that is about to follow. "I believe in these things too. The paranormal, I mean, so I guess you could call me superstitious like the Russian."

He cracks his neck and adjusts his gaze on me after scanning around the library once more. "Why don't you tell me about it?" Michael suggests kindly. "I'd love to hear it. I'm a believer as well; I just didn't want to be the first to admit it. People tend to steer clear when you talk about all the things that go bump in the night." Michael smiles at me warmly. I can't help myself.

I tell him everything. And it feels great to get it off my chest and open up to him for some reason. As usual, he merely listens and speaks sparingly, content merely to hear me rant. This guy...

#  Chapter 4

After a long conversation that starts in the library and takes us to a coffee shop and then to a burger place for a late lunch, I look at Michael curiously. His eyes seem placid, no judgment in them at all. He cocks his head to one side before breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"So, when you were a child, someone or something took your mother? Right in front of your very eyes?"

"I know the way it sounds," I stammer as I turn my attention to the nearby table, hoping to avoid his stare. "But it's true. That's another reason why I thought you weren't coming to see me. I thought that the thing with the Bakers and my reputation as a nut job scared you off."

"And this thing that took her, you couldn't see it clearly? It left a trail, or something like a blur as it passed by?" he continues his questioning.

"Yes," I answer, more than a little surprised. No one had ever taken my account so seriously before, not even my father who was still to this day haunted by mom's disappearance. "There was someone or—whatever, something, there. I couldn't see it. I only felt the wind break, saw a blurry outline and heard the door slam open and closed. My mother didn't even have enough time to let out a scream."

I look down towards my hands. They were shaking. This is the most I've ever explained to someone. Even my father didn't want to hear this much, and my mother's disappearance destroyed him.

"For something to move that fast, in such an enclosed space, such as a home," Michael begins to postulate as he narrows his eyes and cracks his neck. "The burst of speed, the thing's acceleration, has to have been immense. And to create that blurry after-image, the effect of it, it would have to be moving at least faster than the eye can track...that's at most a couple milliseconds. By your description, whatever this was, had to have the ability to go from a dead stop to a full sprint, since the doors were closed, and move fast enough so that you couldn't see it...we're talking really fast here..."

Michael begins to trail off in his own deep thoughts. Is he actually taking me seriously? This guy _can't_ be for real. Everything is just too perfect. He's intelligent and strong, rich and altruistic...and he's actually thinking over what I've told him. I'd said enough to make a witch doctor blush. At least my issues were out in the open now. He could either accept me as I am or dismiss me. I wouldn't be surprised if he chose the latter.

But for now at least, he is taking me seriously.

"I can see now why this would become something of a hobby for you," he states with a clear calm. "I would desperately want to search out my mother's captor just like you. What has your own investigation concluded? I imagine you yourself must have looked into this matter on your own. What do you think could have possibly taken your mother?"

"You're not serious, right?" I ask with a tiny scoff. "Movies, old books, TV shows, everything would have you believe that there's this secret world out there where anything is possible. But that's all I have. I don't have any solid evidence as to what could have taken her. All I have is possibilities from mythology and folklore, nothing solid."

"Very well, let's start there, then. It's as good a place as any."

I look at Michael a bit apprehensively. I wasn't really sure if he was being serious or not. Having put everything out on the table, having him believe me and relaying this information back to me, makes me realize the absurdity of it all. And yet he's not sitting there with a hint of sarcasm. There's no skepticism. He at least appears to be genuinely interested. At this moment, I admit that I sound nuts, even to myself.

It was one thing when I explained my experience to others; it's an entirely other matter when he's probing me now for answers. I don't have any. The entire experience _could_ have been exaggerated on my part, now that I think about it. I was younger; I could have been seeing things. And besides, seriously. What _could_ it have been? Is Michael seriously asking me to come up with an answer...based on what? Old legends and stories that had been handed down mainly by speech alone. Is Michael insane? Now I'm questioning my own sanity...

"Hey, you there?" Michael asks, breaking me from my trance. "Let's look at this logically. What do we know about our world? Not much, right?"

I nod, still dumbfounded and confused.

"We've explored a tiny percentage of the world's oceans and seas," he continues. "We, for all of our technology, can't go farther down in the ocean than a whale. That's pretty humbling, if you ask me. We have eighty-year-olds who eat tons of bacon with every breakfast on a daily basis and are healthier than people who watch their diet. We're constantly changing our outlook on how much water we should drink. Eight cups of water a day, no wait, that's too little, that's too much. We don't know our own bodies. We didn't even know that drinking too much water could actually kill you until recently. You really think it's that strange to think that there are things out there that we don't know about? That's pretty arrogant on humanity's part, I think. Can we really be it? I doubt it."

Michael makes a strong case. His argument is both sound and objective. Something older, perhaps more intelligent than humans, could exist. Suddenly, my beliefs don't sound that silly anymore. But still, where could I start? And how can Michael read me so well to speak as if he was reading my mind? Am I that obvious?

"It's difficult," I answer after clearing my throat. "I was a kid back then. I remember it clearly, but I doubt myself now that I hear you repeat it back to me. It sounds crazy. And what could we do with the information anyway? You think a cop will take this seriously?"

"Just tell me what your research uncovered and we can work from there."

"Work how? What could the two of us possibly do? Let's say it was a monster, then what? Am I supposed to find closure in knowing that my mother was gobbled up by some sort of ghoulie? What if I should just give up and move on with my life?"

Michael looks at me patiently before sighing. He reaches for my hand and studies it before gazing into my eyes.

"Would you really be happy that way?" he asks, his powerful voice now as gentle as a sea breeze. "If that is what you truly want, all you have to do is tell me. We can drop this right now and never look back."

I let out a sigh of my own as I look at our entwined hands. Something about this feels right. I feel like I can do no wrong.

"No, I wouldn't be okay," I confess reluctantly. "But still, that doesn't change anything. You're making it seem like you'd like to investigate this with me, and you have no idea how much that means to me. But the reality is, what can the two of us possibly do? This happened so many years ago; any trail has obviously gone cold, any clues long gone. And forget about all of that, even if we had something to go on, we still can't do anything about it. My mother's...gone. Nothing we can do can bring her back."

"I won't argue that," Michael says softly, kindly. "But it might help you have some sort of peace. That's worth it, isn't it? And you won't have to keep looking for what took your mother. It's not much, and it probably won't even bring about full closure. But it might be the best we can do in our case."

He said we and our. He's taking my tragedy and making it his own. He's pretty admirable in that regard, but is this sincere? I can't believe it to be sincere, but his eyes seem so honest. So... compassionate. I have to believe him.

"It stood on two legs," I mutter almost reluctantly. "Whatever it was, it was the height of a human, and it was on two legs. I did see an after-image, like you mentioned. And I saw an imprint of something like arms...taking my mother. But everything was so blurry, it could be anything."

Michael sits back and takes in a deep breath. He lowers his head and scratches the back of his head. It looks as if he is literally going through some sort of catalog in his mind. Like he's searching out what it could be and ruling out what it couldn't be. He wasn't joking. He is truly a believer and he wants to help me. I have no idea how an environmentalist can help me, but hey, at least I'm not the only one anymore. The only one who "believed."

"You said it had arms," Michael begins again, unfazed by the idea. "Did it appear human? Did you notice its hands? Did they seem normal? Was it wearing clothing?"

I exhale and smirk before replying. "Clothing? Human? Where are we taking this? Are we thinking Nosferatu took my mother? Or maybe it was some sort of demon who possessed a human...or maybe it was a werewolf, or a merman, or something like that!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," he suggests in the calmest of tones. "You need to relax and think. This is important. We need to narrow down what it could be, from what we've heard. No matter how sensational it sounds, remember, any of it could be true. The Earth is a very old place. Who knows what's still lingering around? Did this thing look human? Did it wear clothing? Come on, Liz."

"It moved way too fast to be able to tell you if it was human or not," I answer honestly, although I do feel a tad childish with all this speculation. "I couldn't notice its hands, everything was too fast. I can tell you that the blur had different colors in it. From that, I supposed that it _could_ have worn clothing and looked like a human. But that's all I have. Everything else isn't even speculation; it would be a blind guess."

"Do you remember anything else? Maybe the creature gave off a particular smell? Did it leave anything on the ground or around the area where your mother was abducted?"

"No...why do you ask?" I question, puzzled. Michael is beginning to intimidate me. He seems to be really into this. Maybe _too_ into this.

"Sometimes, certain creatures give off a scent. A certain smell," Michael replies as his jade eyes turn their attention to his laptop bag. He unzips the bag and pulls out a very old-looking book, with ancient white and black drawings of hideous monsters in it. The book seems aged, like it could collapse at any minute. "This is one of my favorite reads. As you can see, it's really old, but the information in here is something you won't find on the internet."

"How old is it, exactly?" I ask as I examine the book, careful not to make even the slightest fold on a page.

"It was printed about two centuries ago," he informs me, as if that's normal. "But it's actually a translation from a much earlier Greek script. The man who wrote it originally was seen as a madman and was executed for blasphemy. Although the Roman Empire ensured that the polytheistic practice of the Greek gods was banned five centuries before, there's evidence that people privately continued to worship the old gods until about seven hundred A.D. But this author lived around one thousand A.D., a time of great change and unrest throughout the ever-changing world. He represented a threat to the order of things, and he was seen as trying to bring back old, long forgotten gods. Even though all he was doing was writing about what we now consider the paranormal. Not many copies of this book exist, if there even are any others like it."

"So the original author was from Greece?" I'm intrigued, this is amazing. "How could he have knowledge of anything here, in North America?"

"In his time, this man was well known throughout his community as an orator and scholar," Michael explains as I begin to notice the excitement the topic instills in him. "People came from all over, just to tell him stories. The author spoke many languages, and had many allies with foreign nations. Some say he even had information from Leif Ericson directly. That would predate Columbus's discovery of America by centuries."

"But how accurate can this information be? In such a crazy time in the world, and don't forget the horrible recordkeeping they had, how can we trust any of this information?"

"I've asked that question myself many times as well," he assures me with a slight smile on his face. "Have you considered, however, how far apart the continents were back then? I don't mean literally, I mean symbolically. Their technology made an eight-hour airplane trip a year-long voyage on a ship constructed of wood. Yet almost all of the old world cultures have similar creatures in their folklore and stories. One of my favorites, the dragon, is on almost every continent in some shape or form. Whether it's on pots or paintings, these people, who most likely never spoke to one another, had painted and created a very similar creature. How likely is that? Not very, unless there _was_ such a creature. Then it makes all the sense in the world."

"I get what you're saying. Not to mention the ape men that were described in the Orient. Many people had similar accounts even though the incidents were thousands of miles apart."

"The Alma, exactly! You understand," Michael says with a satisfied grin on his face. He turns his attention to the old tome and begins browsing through it carefully. He speaks to me without shifting his attention. "Although I will admit, not much in this book can match what you're describing. Our options for a suspect are very short indeed."

I giggle to myself as I witness Michael's almost boyish approach on this. What is this big mountain of a man doing? Playing detective? It's outlandish.

"Was it something I said?" he asks me candidly as he looks at me once more.

"You really want to find this thing, don't you?" I reply seriously. "And you're not even a little afraid of the consequences? What people might say if they find out? If it turns out to be true...or worse, if it's a waste of time?"

"I don't concern myself with what people think of me," Michael admits with no remorse. "I try to be my own person, stand on my own merits. I'll admit that's why I felt a little uneasy taking over my family's fortune. All I did to get it was be born, and I didn't have much say in the matter. I don't really deserve it. But I'm trying to."

"Ah, I get it now," I say with a sly smile. "I'm your good deed for the day. I'm not sure I like that concept very much."

"That's not even close to being accurate," Michael says rigidly.

"Who talks like that?" I ask in disbelief. "You're always so prim and proper. You don't swear or ever have a drop in your manners. And why all of the long words? You trying to compete with me or something? Or do you feel like you have to sound intelligent to make me feel comfortable?"

Michael laughs."Do I seem unintelligent?"

He stares at me, waiting for an answer. Wow, I can't believe I just implied that...

"Tell me, is it a bad thing to be honorable in my dealings with people? Should I curse like a sailor at every opportunity? Should I grab this tablecloth and use it as a rag for my snot?"

Ouch. I really messed up this time. But before I even have a chance to apologize, Michael waves me off. He completely disregards my offense and continues on with our previous conversation.

"Tell you what, give me some time to get my people on the information you gave me," Michael says as he looks into his jacket to pull out his pad and pen. He writes down something before readdressing me. "It'll give them something to do and it'll also be a start. We can keep looking at options later. It's pretty late right now."

"You could come to my house if you want," I suggest timidly. "We can look up everything the net has to offer. Plus, I've been working on getting a nice library there too. I don't have much right now, but I do have some books that could help us."

Michael stands up and walks over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Another time Liz," he says as he reaches for my hand, picks it up and kisses it softly. "I have some work to do. I promise I'll call you later though, and promises from me are ironclad. Don't forget my superstitious Russian."

He laughs and bows his head respectfully before excusing himself and walking away.

What the heck happened here just now? Are we really going to go on a ghost hunt?

And as a second date?

Jeez...

#  Chapter 5

As the hours pass by, I consider more and more that conversation with Michael. It's all so much to take in. I can't help but feel more than a little foolish as I recap to myself everything I said to him. He must see me as a complete loony; he can't possibly be seriously considering what I said to be true.

Yet he stayed there the entire time. His eyes were focused and without judgment. He made me believe he wasn't lying. That I could trust him, and I do. The entire issue was still completely out-of-this-world crazy, though.

I go to bed that night with all of these thoughts swirling around in my mind. Chalk up another sleepless night. This is getting old...

When I make it to Jack's place, he can tell right away how ragged I am. I'm sure my hair is a mess and I can feel my eyes almost desperate to jump out from my head. I'm exhausted. But there is nothing I can do. I made a promise to my friend to take her shift, and if I hadn't come in, Jack would be in big trouble.

After I bat away Jack and Roy's initial protests, the day continues normally. It drags on, and the minutes seem like hours.

Before I even notice, it's close to quitting time. Michael's text messages help the day go by faster and even though I'm ecstatic to see him tonight, I don't think I'm up to it. The door to the restaurant swings open and my heart jumps immediately. I'm hoping it's Michael so he can just sit at the bar with the boys and keep me company until we are really done for the entire day.

But instead of a surprise early visit from Michael, it's just another customer. Except I've never seen him before in my life. And honestly, I don't know if it's the exhaustion or the last-minute patron, but this guy has me feeling irked.

Until I see his face, that is.

He stares at me with a smirk on his face. He has this arrogant look about him, the kind of look that would make me almost immediately hate him. But his face is perfect. He's almost the complete opposite of Michael. Whereas Michael has green eyes this man's are sea blue, and they glisten like sapphires. Once again I find myself wondering if a person's eyes could possibly really be that color. They are just so blue. The angles of his face, his cheeks, his complexion, he is...beautiful. Instead of Michael's big, athletic build, this man is lithe, but his muscles are also very clearly defined. His hair is light, not like a dyed blonde, but his hair almost looks as if it is spun of gold.

"Hey sweetheart," he whispers softly near me. I'm so lost in my own thoughts I must not have noticed him walking towards me. "You _are_ the one to see about a table, right? Or am I being too presumptuous?"

He smiles at me confidently, seductively. His smile is also perfect. This guy has to be a model or something. If he isn't, he really should be.

"This way," I reply as I walk him to a table. I extend my arm and motion for him to sit, but he just stands there, looking at me. Almost as if he's judging me.

"I think we have a mutual friend, Elizabeth," he whispers again as if we are exchanging pillow talk.

"And who might that be?"

Truth be told, this guy is incredibly attractive. But I've seen his kind a million times before, all over campus. Spoiled rich kid who's been given everything he ever wanted in his life. Exhibit A is his perfect smile. It screams of braces and whitening treatments.

Besides, I am technically seeing Michael. Technically. And I am way too inexperienced in romance to even be thinking of flirting with a guy like this.

"I know where this is headed, hotshot," I respond assertively. "You're a great looking guy, and I'm sure you have all the women fawning over you. But I'm just not that type of girl. I never was and I doubt I ever will be. Besides, I like my men to be manly and honorable. I bet you're just your typical player who stepped out of a fashion catalog. So if you don't mind, here is your menu, if you need anything, I'll be waiting right over there."

"Ouch, crash and burn," he says, feigning a wounded heart. "Always treat your customers that way? How could you earn a living like that? I'm guessing you're a student, right? Working here to make ends meet? The public can't possibly tip you well with that attitude. I like that attitude, though. It's like a tiger, caged all her life. All she needs is someone to release the lock."

"Very smooth turnaround," I remark sharply. I wasn't lying, either, but I try to make it sound as snarky as I can as I turn to walk away. I give him my back in hopes of hiding my smile. Something about his confidence is really attractive. "Just let me know when you get your mind settled on something to eat."

"You should really take my advice, you know," he continues, unfazed. "I know what I'm talking about. The customer is always right and all that. It'll affect your tips. But then again, I'm sure you aren't really concerned about tips right now, are you? Good ol' Michael is tipping you as much as you need, isn't he?"

I feel both indignation and fear. Who is this creepy model guy who knows about Michael?

"Is that the mutual friend you spoke of earlier?" I ask, still turned around to avoid his expression.

"Yep, sure is," he answers proudly. I imagine a large grin on his face. "You're really quick to judge people. That's a very savage quality, especially in a young lady like you. You don't want the folks around here to think of you as unladylike, would you? But then again, they really don't have you figured out...do they? I wonder why that is."

I turn slowly towards him and prepare myself for the worst. Did Michael tell this guy everything about us? Is this his employee, or a friend? Or maybe even worse, some sort of relative?

He smiles at me again and extends his hand to me.

"Please, sit down here," he says as I notice his eyes staring deeply into mine. "It's a really comfortable booth. Take a seat next to me, I insist. You could learn a thing or two."

As if the sea truly was in his eyes, those two deep blue orbs are sucking me in. I feel a need to sit down next to him as he asks. But I'm not that type of girl. And I'm _definitely_ not falling for his playboy crap. I want to know everything he knows about Michael.

So I'll bite and listen to him rant. For now.

I walk closer to the booth and sit across from him. Ironically, we're in the same exact booth I sat Michael down in when we first met. I notice the man's face smirk once more as he chuckles to himself.

"I see," he says softly, as if he is the only person in the room who gets the joke. "Well then, so your Michael's new friend eh? It's the talk on the internet and newspapers worldwide."

I eye him suspiciously as I arrange the salt and pepper shakers on the table. He's starting to make me more than a bit nervous. Is Michael really the kind of guy that would brag about us to his friends? We haven't even _done_ anything yet! If he _is_ that type, I swear...I could just punch him in the face.

But I do suppose it's my fault as well. I'm the one that's rushing into everything. And I also might have made Michael out to be better than he is. He's the first guy I ever dated as an adult. after all. Who am I kidding? He's the first guy I've _ever_ dated.

"Don't pout, now," the man says as he reaches for my face. "I'm only joking. I'm sorry; I have a dark sense of humor. I hope it can grow on you?"

"That's not something you joke about. I have never been accused of being that kind of girl. I don't intend to start that reputation now either."

"What kind of girl are you referring to exactly?" he asks with another confident smile. "A girl who has fun? As opposed to the nun you currently are?" He places his right elbow on the table and plants his face in his hand, examining me closely. Just who does this guy think he is?

"So, let me get this straight," I say as I motion to Roy to get me a drink. If I'm going to be yelling at this jerk, my vocal cords definitely needed the fluids. "Not only do you come in here and insinuate I'm some type of floozy, but now you're also going to pretend like you know me? All of the sudden and out of the blue?"

"Hey now, I can see you're getting upset," he states as he straightens and offers his hands up in peace. "I never meant anything like that. But I do have a way of knowing people. For example, I can tell you're a very intelligent girl. You want to be taken seriously. And although you could get by in the world easily with your looks, you want to get by with your brains. You're also a goody two shoes. Were you a girl scout?"

"What?!" I almost yell at the top of my lungs. "I was never a scout, I didn't have the time. It wasn't really my thing either. You obviously aren't as good at reading people as you thought you were."

"Everything alright here, Lizzy?" Roy asks as he places my soda on the table in front of me.

I nod at him and take a deep sip of my glass. Roy walks away with clear confusion on his face. I stare at this guy sitting across from me. Oh, if my eyes could burn a hole in him...

"See that?" he says as he tilts his head to the side without a care in the world. "That glance right there. Only a caged tiger could produce such a powerful stare. If I'm wrong, please, feel free to tell me how wrong I am."

I continue drinking from my glass and staring at him. I don't know what to say. I'm still wishing for that ability to burn holes in him with my eyes.

"So I'm right, I take it? What a surprise," he says in a mocking tone before extending his arm. "I'm not only right, you know. I'm also Vincent. And it's a pleasure to meet you."

I breathe deeply as I remove the glass from my mouth and extend my hand also to shake his. At least now I have a name, and that's enough to interrogate Michael with.

"So Vincent, did you come over here tonight to eat, drink, or just torture me?"

"Oh but I was hoping I could do a little of everything," he says with a boyish laugh. "I suppose I'd take the torture option if I only have my choice of one. But really, I just came to see what had Michael so enraptured and out of focus. I can clearly see why he hasn't been able to...concentrate lately."

"Excuse me?"

"It's just that I knew you'd be lovely, and knowing Michael the way I do, I figured you were more than just another pretty face," he continues on as if having a monologue in front of a sold out audience. "Michael's a brooder. When something took him out of that loop, I figured it had to be someone extraordinary. I never counted on it to be so very exquisite, however."

"So, are you a family member or do you work with Michael...?" My unease is growing and I fear that Vincent will realize it immediately if given a free moment. "Has he talked about me to you much? And I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Vincent, but you do have a lousy way of introducing yourself to people."

Another soft laugh. This time he doesn't even allow his mouth to open as he stifles the noise. He looks down briefly before turning right back to me with yet another smile.

"Michael and I met through work," he explains as if the topic itself is dull. "Now, I merely consider him a very old friend, more likely my little brother. Frankly, I'm hurt he never told you about me. I guess I'll have to cross him off my Christmas list this year."

Vincent was right, now that I think about it. And as I allow myself to return to my first impression of Vincent, I realize that I was spot on with my initial instinct. This is a man that is completely different, almost a polar opposite of Michael. Michael is tough and rugged; Vincent seems more like an aristocrat. Michael is extremely tall with wide shoulders and large arms and legs. Vincent is noticeably in shape, his muscles easily visible in any light I'd imagine, but he is still very slender and statuesque.

But their biggest difference perhaps is what Vincent himself pointed out. Michael does seem to be the quieter of the two. He is introverted and pensive. Vincent seems to be at home in social situations and wears his thoughts on his sleeve. He has a dark sense of humor and seems like the guy who is always sarcastic and cracking jokes. Most of all, Vincent seems to enjoy making me squirm. How could these two be friends?

"To ease your mind, no, Michael never told me about you," Vincent announces. "Michael doesn't really talk to me about women or his relationships. I don't think Michael talks to anyone about his personal life, really. I just saw that he was a little off key lately, for him, anyway."

"What do you mean, off key?" I ask with worry ringing clearly in my voice.

"He's happy," Vincent says, almost as if the idea of Michael being happy distresses him. "I can see why now. I guess I just didn't expect the object of his newfound bliss to be such a... _keeper_."

Yet again, Vincent laughs to himself. I officially have had enough. I was done playing his game.

"Listen here Vinny," I say as I look at him dead in the eyes. "I bet you make all the women fall all over you with your subtle wit and banter. I'm sure that icy, mysterious stare works on all the girls, but it doesn't do a thing for me. And this whole act of laughing to yourself as if you're the only one who knows what's going on behind the scenes and everyone else is in the dark; it's getting _really_ old. So how about you stop laughing to yourself like a jerk and let the world in on the joke? If Michael is in trouble or if he's going through something, I want to help him. I feel he would do the same for me. So fess up, order something to eat, or leave. Because right now, you're really getting on my nerves. And I'm nowhere near nice when I'm angry."

Vincent curls his lips up in a toothless smile and tilts his head to the other side.

"Vinny, huh? Like I said, you're a tiger," he says as he licks his lips. "I have quite the temper on me as well, you should know. I guess that makes us both tigers. It just recently dawned on me, just now, that is. He hasn't told you, has he?"

"Told me what? Michael isn't the type to keep secrets. He's been nothing but honest with me. You, on the other hand, are playing some sick, twisted game that only _you're_ enjoying."

"Michael is a stickler for the truth," Vincent says with a couple clicks of his tongue and a nod of his head. "I'm amazed he'd keep such a secret from you. But then again, he's probably trying to protect you. You are indeed worth protecting. I'm not so sure he really is by keeping the truth from you. And in keeping the truth from you, some might say that in itself is lying. How do you feel on the issue, Elizabeth? If I withhold some important information from you, is that lying?"

My mind races at all the possibilities Vincent could possibly be getting at. I really don't know this man; I should just brush off whatever he says to me. But for some reason, I know he's telling me the truth. But I also suspect it's a distorted truth.

"Is he married or engaged?" I ask with a shake of my head. Confusion and panic are starting to settle in. That would definitely explain his absence earlier and why sometimes it was near impossible to get in contact with him.

But Vincent just laughs, harder than before.. His face is flooded with amusement.

"No, it's nothing like that," he answers softly, calmly. This time, there is a tenderness to his tone. "Michael is a good guy, a goody two shoes, like you. He wouldn't do something like that."

I exhale a sigh of deep relief. What else could be so bad to make such a big spectacle of it? It's like Vincent was intentionally trying to make it ominous, just to grab my attention firmer. He reaches across the table and takes my drink, pulling it towards him without a second thought, and takes a sip.

"Excuse me?!" I exclaim in frustration. "How could you just grab my drink like that?"

"I was thirsty, you haven't taken my drink order," Vincent says as he looks up from the glass. "You really are a very poor waitress."

This guy has a real way of getting under my skin. Worst thing about it is that he wasn't really upsetting me. The only time I was truly frustrated was when I thought Michael might have been in trouble or seeing someone else. Now I'm just surprised at the depths of Vincent's confidence. I wonder if he has any limits in trying to push my buttons. It's as if all of this is a game to him. I'm not about to give him the satisfaction.

"What did he tell you he does for a living?" Vincent asks nonchalantly, still attending _my_ drink.

"He told me he inherited his family's wealth," I reply, a little unbalanced by the question. "But he said he also has a family business that's involved with protection of the environment. I assumed it was mostly pro bono work."

Vincent smiles to himself as he wipes the excess liquid from his lips with a napkin.

"I suppose all that is truthful, if a little...skewed," he answers. "Did he tell you why he was here? I hear he's going to school. Always very meticulous, that one. I'm just surprised he's stayed in the area for so long. It's not usual for him."

Vincent is giving me more than plenty to think about.

"Skewed...?" I ask, trailing off. "I know his work takes him many places, but I didn't know it was strange for him to be in one area for long. You make it seem like he's always on the move. What do you mean, skewed?"

"I mean it's all really at how you look at it," he answers without a second's thought. "Kind of how I asked whether it's a lie to withhold a truth. I like to ponder these types of petty, perhaps insignificant things. So, did he tell you why he was here?"

With growing concern, I'm starting to hesitate before answering Vincent's questions. But if I don't answer them then that meant that Vincent succeeded in making me uncomfortable enough to avoid him. I'm not about to let that happen.

"He's trying to scare a Russian businessman away from here," I say as I look Vincent dead in the eyes, trying to appear completely unafraid. "The guy wants the land to build some stores and things like that. It'll destroy this tiny town. The small businesses will go bankrupt almost immediately, and all the animals in the forest will have to find another place to go. We'll end up with rabbits and wolves and who knows what else in our front yards."

Again, a smile from Vincent.

"I suppose that's true also," he says as he scratches his right eye. "Although one might consider that to be skewed as well. A Russian businessman can't be the only reason he's staying here."

"You're his friend," I answer immediately in protest. "Shouldn't you know if there's more? Maybe he's staying here because he likes my company. Does that make you jealous? Am I taking away your best friend, and you just can't handle it?"

In my meager attempt to act and sound tough, I only succeed in making Vincent laugh louder than ever. All of the customers left in the restaurant are now completely focused on Vincent and me. This is beyond embarrassing. After what seems like an eternity, Vincent stops laughing and everyone goes back to their meals and drinks. My face is undeniably red, I can feel it.

"You couldn't be farther away from the truth, my dear Elizabeth," he assures me smugly as he sits up again properly. "If Michael wants to ignore me for the rest of all eternity, he could. I wouldn't say I won't miss my playful jabs at his oh-so-serious demeanor, but there has to be more than just you keeping him here. Or perhaps I should say, you weren't the original reason why he came here."

"Of course not," I report incredulously. "He came here for his work. He didn't know I existed until he just happened to come in to get a bite to eat here."

"Somehow, I really doubt he didn't know you existed," Vincent asserts confidently. "What I really do doubt is what that old dog is still doing here. I came looking for something. It was only after coming here that I knew Michael was here. But you...you might be the reason he came here to begin with."

"Vincenzo" I hear Michael's voice call out calmly. I didn't notice him appear next to us. Even though Michael speaks low, his voice still booms, almost menacingly, to Vincent. "That's enough."

Vincent smiles and winks at me before standing up to face Michael. Michael towers over Vincent, who, in his own right, was pretty tall himself.

"Playing games as usual?" Michael asks, his tone and expression deadly serious. What kind of relationship did these two "friends" have?

"Ah, I see it now," Vincent answers suavely as he measures Michael's body language. Vincent isn't backing down. It was clear he wasn't intimidated at all by Michael's presence. "You did come for the keeper. That's extremely interesting. I assume you know why I came?"

"To ruin my life, as per usual?" Michael answers with a hint of hostility.

"I came for the ring," Vincent answers calmly. "I'm sure you know why I would do such a dumb thing?"

"That's unimportant right now," Michael says as he diverts his attention to me. "I'm sorry if he bothered you. It's his way. He gets a kick out of playing with people's minds. Are you okay?"

Amidst this confusion, I don't know if I am okay. What in the world are these two talking about? And for old friends, they really do act oddly with one another. I shake my head nervously in hopes that the attention can focus away from me. I want and need an explanation, but Michael can enlighten me later. I have the feeling this should be discussed in private.

"What did you tell her, Vincenzo?" Michael asks, as if he was an interrogator.

"Elizabeth?" Vincent asks coyly as he turns to me once more. "We were just talking. We were getting to know one another. I found out about your...philanthropic work here and your concerns with a Russian businessman. I must say, your work with nature sure has you working a very...unorthodox angle this time."

"It's not an angle," Michael defends his stance as he aggressively grabs Vincent by his shirt. Vincent does nothing to engage or even resist Michael's grasp. "You know the truth. You also know the danger of finding the ring by yourself. You should have told me, sought me out. Even you shouldn't take on a circle of this size by yourself. And why did you involve her in all this? She has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, but Michael," Vincent says as he turns to face me with a large, comfortable smile even while still gripped by Michaels large and overpowering hands. He stares at me, right in the eyes again. "I think she has everything to do with this, and I bet you knew all about it."

#  Chapter 6

"That's enough boys, break it up!" I hear Jack scream as he rushes toward the scuffle. "Michael, I'm real surprised at you. Ya should know better than to be roughhousing and scrapping in here!"

"Yeah Mikey," Vincent says as he looks back at Michael with a confident smile on his face. "You should know better than to ruin this guy's place. He has a good thing going here. Just like you to ruin all the fun everyone's having, though, isn't it?"

I watch Michael's expression intensely as his face tries to hold back all the anger rushing through his mind. I note the veins on his forehead grow. He is incensed. And for a split second, I really think Michael's eyes change color and shape. It's for such a short glimpse, had I blinked I would have missed it. But I could swear his eyes changed from their soothing jade to an almond-shaped amber. His eyes almost looked like a tiger's eye stone...I must be imagining things.

"Let's take it outside," Michael says as he smirks and bows his head to Jack before shoving Vincent towards the door. "I'm truly sorry Jack. He's an old friend, and sometimes, I just want to bash his face in."

"No kidding?" Jack asks as he shakes and scratches his head. Convinced that the situation has died down, Jack turns around and heads back to the kitchen.

Michael continues nudging Vincent out towards the door until they are both out of the restaurant. I follow them closely, intent on finding out what all the commotion was about. For some reason, I've got a really bad feeling. I get the sense that if those two had fought in there, the whole place would have been leveled.

"Just what the hell are you getting at?" Michael says as they reach the middle of the parking lot. "How many lives do you want to ruin? When will enough people be hurt?"

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," Vincent replies as he squints his eyes and takes a quick look at me. "I just came to inspect my best friend's love interest, that's all. Is there something so wrong in that? I'm hurt by your accusations; I'm a real nice guy, after all."

"Yeah, sure you are," Michael answers almost immediately. "You're after the ring? How much have you told her? Do you have any idea of the danger you're putting her in by telling her _anything_ she doesn't need to know?! You endanger her family, her friends; you literally just served everyone she knows up on a silver platter by divulging any information to her."

Vincent laughs as he sits on the brown dirt, unaffected by the dust he's kicking up. He stares at the moon before addressing Michael.

"If that's the case, then I suggest you _keeper_ next to you at all times," Vincent advises smugly before once again looking at me.

Michael tries his best to hide a low growl and fails miserably.

"You going to continue with that? Or are you going to act your age?" Michael asks firmly, his face now emotionless. "You know I'll help you, with almost anything you need. But what you did here today was completely uncalled for. You risked the town and all of the people in it. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Vincent sits himself up calmly and before I know it, he manages to sprint towards Michael and punch him straight in the nose. Michael does nothing, barely affected by the earth-shattering blow. He merely turns back to face Vincent again and spits blood at Vincent's feet.

"Never, and I do mean _never_ , talk to me like a child," Vincent orders in a commanding voice. He was demonstrating a side I honestly didn't think he had in him. "I am more than twice your age! I will not be spoken down to by a whelp who has obviously forgotten his role. In choosing to live by your code of honor, you've forgotten your major charge. To protect the balance. If they succeed, this town you have come to be so attached to will be destroyed. She will be as well!" Vincent points a finger at me, hands trembling with anger. He lowers his hand and adjusts his shirt before turning to address me. He smiles, full of confidence and charm. Once again, he is totally back to his carefree persona. He bows as he gives Michael his back.

"Don't worry Elizabeth," he says softly. I have no idea what's going on, but for some reason, I believe him. "We fight from time to time. A lot of the time it's even worse than this. But he won't kill me because I saved his life, and he's a real stickler for honor codes. And I won't kill him because...well, he's just too much fun."

I scoff at his remark as I run towards Michael to check on his bruised nose.

"I ask for you both to excuse me. Michael, think of what I said. Do what's truly right. Fulfill your duty." I hear Vincent behind my back.

Just as I'm about to turn around and completely tell him off, he's gone. And I don't mean gone as in he just got into his car. He's nowhere to be seen. The only evidence of his departure is all the dust that kicked up. He must have sprinted out of here, but I didn't hear any footsteps, and no one is _that_ fast. I turn back to Michael and examine his face. I wipe off all the blood from his nose and lips.

"Your nose...your mouth," I stammer nervously. "I saw you. Your nose was broken and your lip was busted open. But you don't have a single scratch on you."

Michael turns to me, lowers his head so his eyes can meet mine. There is sadness in his gaze. His eyebrows are furrowed in shame and humiliation.

"Vincent told me things," I continue, trying to break the awkward silence. "He hinted that you were keeping things from me. Is it true, Michael? Are you really keeping things from me?"

I look right back at those jade green eyes of his. They are beginning to swell up with tears.

"We should talk," he says softly, almost as if some of his words weren't able to make it out of his mouth. This was not going to be a good talk.

"Yeah, sure, of course," I answer, feeling a little blindsided. "Let me just check with Jack and I'll meet you right here in two minutes. Is that okay?"

"That should be fine," Michael answers with a subtle nod of his head. I walk back into the bar and grill and meet with Jack. Needless to say, he's more than a little concerned for me. But after a little prodding on my behalf, he lets me leave. I meet back up with Michael, who is still standing in the same spot as before. He turns his head without moving his body. His face still houses the same sad expression.

"So, where should we talk?" I ask, trying to sound cheery.

"Wherever you would like."

"Okay...in that case, let's go to my house. Come with me, my car's this way." I lead Michael to my car and get in. Michael walks slowly after me and finally climbs in. He's lost that confident stride that is always present. Something must really be eating away at him.

After a short drive, we make it home. Michael refuses to take a tour of my place, insisting that we talk immediately. I lead him to the living room and he sits down on the sofa. He looks at me as if he is waiting for me to sit down as well.

"Would you have a seat?" he asks with his arm outstretched to the couch.

"What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't ask you if you wanted a drink or something?"

"I'm fine thank you, but you really need to hear this. It's a long story."

I decide to bite and take a seat on the sofa next to him. Michael takes a deep breath before turning towards me and placing a soft hand on my shoulder.

"I need you not to freak out, no matter what I say," Michael instructs patiently. "It's going to sound completely psychotic, but I can prove everything I'm saying. You just need to give me time, patience, and a little bit of open-mindedness. Can you handle that?"

"I'd like to think I'm an open-minded person," I answer in mild confusion. "What could possibly make me freak out? I told you my entire story, everything. I put myself out on a limb for you and you didn't judge me. I'll never forget that."

"Yes...well, this is a little different."

"And speaking of which," I continue on as if he never spoke, "it's obvious Vincent wasn't lying. There's something you're not telling me. I want you to know, that is completely unfair. It's messed up in so many ways, I can't even begin to count them all. I put my heart out there for you, and you just left me there. How could you do that to me?"

"I know, it was wrong."

"You made me think I was being 'courted' by some gentleman. Well, here's a newsflash: gentlemen don't lie. And not telling me everything is a lie by omission," I once again carry on, not letting him speak. "I thought you said you don't lie? Weren't you the one that made the truth out to be extremely important? What could possibly be that important or insane that you would keep something from me after all the insanity I told you? You went back on your own golden rule, buddy and I have to admit, I never expected that from—"

"I'm a werewolf," Michael says, loud enough to halt my rant before I get to the good part.

I just sit there and look at him in disbelief. I'm waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't. We just sit there for two minutes without saying a word to one another. Two minutes is an eternity if you are sitting in silence. Finally I clear my throat, hoping this will be enough of a nudge to get him to continue on with his confession.

"I didn't lie to you," Michael continues finally. "I would never do that to you. Nor was it a lie of omission. Had you asked me if I was a supernatural creature, I would have answered yes. The chances of you asking such a question were microscopic, of course, but my point is, I just left out certain details to protect you. I had every intention to tell you after this current crisis was over."

"Crisis?" I say, my eyes widening.

"Yes," Michael says as he looks down at the ground. "There's a huge event going on in town right now, and I was going to tell you right after I had managed to solve the problem. I didn't tell you in the mean time because I was afraid you would want to escort me. Escorting me would be bad for your health as I try to fix this current...problem. I don't think you're ready yet to see my other forms."

"Your other forms?" I ask incredulously. "And what about the Russian? That was an obvious lie. And you don't work in anything that's eco-friendly!"

"Actually, I do work for the environment," Michael corrects calmly. "A werewolf is a being picked by nature itself. It runs in bloodlines, as most things do. Our job is to keep the order of nature balanced. We seek out evil and corruption and slay it, if need be. The Russian I mentioned is behind this current threat. I just left the part out that would have endangered your safety."

I exhale deeply as I sit back into the corner of the couch. This is a lot to take in. Is Michael completely insane? He leans closer to me and places both of his hands on my knees.

"Almost everything you've ever read about werewolves, about 95% of it," Michael says softly as he looks into my eyes. "All of that...is completely true, with minor variations here and there."

"You expect me to believe you're a wolf man?" I say sarcastically, fear growing inside me. Michael is really creeping me out. "Not a good first few dates we're having here..."

Michael reaches behind his back and pulls out a very large knife. I recoil and jump up and out from the couch, heading towards my phone. I'm calling the cops and getting this guy away from me before I make the six o'clock news. But before I make it to the phone, Michael is there. He has the phone in his hand and he is offering it to me.

"Please, let me prove it to you," Michael says as I grab the phone from him. "If you still don't believe me, I'll leave you alone and you'll never see me again. Please, trust me. I would never lie to you."

I look at the phone hesitantly. Michael backs away from me slowly. I put the phone back down and wait.

"What are you going to do?" I ask nervously as I look at that humongous knife.

"I know this is going to seem crazy, but please, don't freak out," Michael says as he goes to the kitchen and comes back with a roll of paper towels. "I'm going to slice my wrists, dry the blood off, and show you why you couldn't find a scratch on me back at the parking lot."

"That seems a little dramatic and extreme, don't you think?" I chuckle nervously. A broken nose is one thing; a foot-long knife was a different story.

Without hesitation Michael slashes his left forearm with the knife and blood rushes down to the ground. I see a blur of movement as Michael stands in place. This definitely ranks as one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had. When the blur disappears, I see Michael cradling his left arm. The large knife is on the floor, clean and spotless. But his left forearm has a huge, nasty gash all alongside it. Michael has his right hand inside the wound, and it seems like he's holding it open.

"What? What just happened?" I ask frantically. "All I saw was a blur, and the knife is now on the floor and I didn't hear or see anything!."

"The blur you saw was me using the paper towel to catch all the blood as it left the wound before it hit your floor. After I did that, I used more paper towels to clean the knife and place it gently on the floor to not leave a mess and scratch the finish," Michael says as he focuses his attention to his wound and his right hand. "And my right hand is holding the wound open. If I wasn't holding the wound open, it would have closed, and you wouldn't have believed me when I said I cut myself. Especially after seeing the clean knife and all. This is no trick, please, come see for yourself."

I trust Michael. And as creepy as this all is, I walk closer and look at his injury. He definitely needs a hospital. Michael looks at me and removes his right hand. As he does that, right before my eyes, I see the gargantuan wound heal on its own. Within seconds, there is nothing there, not even a scar.

"Is that why your eyes changed color?" I ask, starting to piece everything together. "Why you're so unbelievably strong?"

"Yes, I have many traits that make me unique to humans, all supers do," Michael says as he picks up the knife and drops it in my sink. "That's what people or things that aren't human refer to one another as. Supers. We've been called many things since we were written about millenniums ago. But now, humans refer to everything unexplained or seemingly unnatural as supernatural or paranormal. That makes us supernatural beings, to humans at least, so I suppose the term supers just fit. But rest assured, we've been here a long time. We didn't just pop up out of nowhere. What humans consider monsters or urban legends are really just a part of nature. It's merely a facet of the world that human beings don't know about."

"This is amazing," I say with a gigantic smile. I'm sure I'm blushing, but I'm even more sure that I don't care at this point. "All my life I've been looking for you. Just so that I would know I wasn't crazy. About my mom, I mean."

"I know what this discovery must mean to you, Liz," Michael says with a warm smile. "But you mustn't out us. It would not only endanger you and all of my fellow supers, but it would endanger the world itself."

He motions me back to the sofa so that we can continue talking. He sits down, seemingly relieved that he didn't have to do any more circus tricks to convince me, and that I had taken the news so well.

"Well what else can you do?" I say with childish glee in my voice. "I want to know everything there is to know. Are werewolves evil? When you said 95%, were you exaggerating?" Michael raises his hand and smiles gently.

"Let's take this slowly," he suggests. "This is like jumping into a new world, an alien planet. Except it's the real world, one most people don't think could ever possibly exist. Is there any particular thing you want to know? There's a lot to understand, and I'll teach you whatever you want to know, as long as it doesn't endanger you. Is there a particularly ghoulie that interests you most?" He laughs and covers his face as he leans back into the arm of the sofa. He's more adorable now than ever. It seems like a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

"Well, I guess my favorite creature of the night is the werewolf...now," I say suggestively. "Why don't you tell me more about your people? The werewolves."

He uncovers his face and tilts his head to the side. "Mostly, we're the good guys," he begins slowly, pensively. Obviously, he is putting much thought into his words. "Like with anything else in life, there are a couple bad apples. Werewolves are imbued with their power by nature itself, to protect the balance, just as I said earlier. We make sure that the entire world is protected, from humans and supers alike. Like a secret police, I suppose. I'm not a first generation werewolf: I inherited the power from my father. But if nature itself did not deem me worthy to harness this power, I would have died when the power 'entered' me, so to speak."

"But you said there are some bad apples," I interject, the curiosity being too much to bear. "How could there be bad apples that were chosen by nature? Why didn't they die when the power entered them if they were bad people? Would nature allow evil men and women to have the power you have?"

"It's about balance mostly," Michael explains. "Eventually, the evil ones will be rooted out and killed. But killing a werewolf is extremely difficult, even for the most powerful of supers. Like Vincenzo for example."

"Vincent isn't a werewolf, is he?"

"You're a keen observer," he replies with an admiring stare. "Correct, Vincenzo is not a werewolf. He is what humans would call a vampire; one that is close to sixteen hundred years old. He has seen much. And with some supers, especially vampires and werewolves, the longer we live, the more powerful we become. We gain new abilities, take basic abilities to an enhanced form. It gets a little complicated, I suppose."

"So are you and Vincent immortal?"

"We'll never die of old age," Michael answers somberly. "Only a violent death will end our lives."

"How old are you?" I ask cautiously, sensing this question to be a dangerous area.

"Exactly?" Michael chuckles softly. "I was born in 1478, in Genoa, Italy. It was a port city, fishing and trading was a huge source of income there. So naturally, I became a sailor, and that's how I met Vincenzo."

"But I thought vampires and werewolves were mortal enemies," I conjecture, feeling more than a little silly treating this as a scholarly debate. "How are you two best friends?"

Michael's expression changes immediately. I can tell that he's remembering something painful. A memory that flashes him back to a time he had wanted to forget.

"That's an extremely long story. Vampires and werewolves aren't natural enemies or anything. There was a time when they were considered to even be the same thing. The two species are just two of the more dominant ones amongst the super community. With our duties as protectors of the balance and the large vampire population, we're bound to have some unpleasant run-ins. It's unfortunate, but werewolves are almost universally disliked," Michael almost mumbles to himself. "And the way Vincenzo and I met...that's particularly boring."

"How about you give me the short version then?" I ask as I bat my eyes. I'm truly intrigued.

"Very well, the short version then, but don't blame me when you find yourself snoring," he says. "As I mentioned, I was born in Genoa, in 1478. Does that city and time period bring any particular event to your mind?"

"Of course," I reply instantly. "The Renaissance was in full swing, and Columbus was about to embark upon his journey in about two decades."

"Indeed," he replies pensively. It's as if Michael's eyes lose their brightness, their light. He is reliving a very hard memory. "Things back then weren't easy. Lives came cheap; it would later on be known throughout history as this beautiful age of enlightenment. That wasn't my experience, though. Humans tend to be superstitious at heart, and although the majority of the world had long come to know and accept that the world was round, you still had your naysayers. They were in complete denial. My father was a werewolf, and he taught me all he could about the true world. The world that nowadays would be laughed at by modern-day scientists. He explained to me how dark and dangerous the true world was, 'the world behind the curtain' he used to call it."

"So, not only did you have to deal with the harsh environment around you," I muse aloud. "But you also had to live with the knowledge that things were actually out there, all around you. Things that were much worse?"

He turns to me and swallows hard. He closes his eyes and nods his head sadly.

"More so than anyone could ever understand, even my father," Michael replies with much melancholy in his voice. "You see, I understood everything my father taught me. He explained much about supers and their legends in our nearby surroundings, but he also knew that our land was not the only land in the world. It was impossible, he thought, especially after Marco Polo made his discovery of the Orient. After that, it became my father's mission to find out more about other supers, it was his driving force."

Michael inhales and exhales deeply before cracking his neck. He stares at me in what could only be called confusion. It seems as if he is conflicted with himself. He doesn't know whether to continue or not.

"Michael, if you'd rather not...I understand," I say assuredly. And I mean it, too. As much as I need to hear this, the first true breakthrough in my search for what really happened to my mother, I don't want him to feel strained in telling me his history. He had kept this secret world, the 'world behind the curtain' from me, surely he had his own reasons for doing so.

"Can I have a cold glass of water?" Michael asks as I notice him examining me. He's checking me for body language, I assume. Michael is much more pensive than usual.

I agree and without saying a word I make my way to the kitchen and grab one of the bottled waters I typically keep in the fridge. When I come back he is sitting down on the floor, looking out the window. He takes my offering and thanks me before opening it up and drinking it.

"It's been a while since I spoke about this to anyone," Michael continues. "Now that Vincenzo is involved, I think you should know more. Vincenzo likes to...mess with people's minds and cause a ruckus. It's fun for him. It's his way of dealing with his life, I suppose."

"Why is Vincent's appearance such a big deal? Is he a threat to you? Could he really kill you if he wanted to?"

"I don't know," Michael admits without hesitation and with a hint of fear. "As I said, he is extremely long-lived. He's gained powers beyond what almost any super can even imagine. By birth, those of the tribe—that's what werewolves refer to each other as—we are created stronger. We're more powerful than the vast majority of what we have to face. But sometimes, things like Vincenzo happen, and they slip through the cracks. For whatever reason however, Vincenzo chose to spare my life, one day...very long ago."

"Yeah, he mentioned that," I say, trying to make sense of it all. "Why would a vampire save your life? He had to have known you were a werewolf, right? I mean, a member of the tribe?"

Michael looks up at me and grins before taking another sip of water.

"You can call me a werewolf," he reassures me, still smiling. "I've been called worse. There's a chance he didn't know I was a tribe member. It's a small one, but it's still a chance."

He turns his attention back out towards the stars and gazes at them almost in admiration. "It's amazing, don't you think?" he muses aloud. "Centuries ago, we had no idea of the vastness of the cosmos. Now it's present day, and we still have no idea of what's really out there. We don't even know what's on _this_ planet; I suppose it's too much to expect us to know what's beyond the stars."

I allow him this brief moment of contemplation before beginning my line of questioning once more. I clear my throat.. "So, this became your father's mission?"

"Ah, yes, it did," Michael says as if he were pulled out suddenly from a trance. "My father wanted to travel the world, see new things, experience new supers and see what they could do. He felt he had a responsibility to humanity. It was my father's goal in life to ensure humans came to grow as nature intended them to. But the majority of the supers my father had run into were evil and depraved, and he had to take them down. This was something I feel he never was able to find comfort in doing. But as the years went by, and I grew normally, my father found out about Columbus, and followed his work closely."

" _The_ Columbus? As in Christopher Columbus?"

"The one and same," he confirms immediately. "My father placed himself close in Columbus's entourage. Most of the tribe can sense feelings, emotions if you will. We can't read minds or anything like that, but we can sense your general disposition. A werewolf that cannot sense feelings is typically being punished for some great wrong he did, and has been cut off from the majority of the powers we normally have access to."

"Can you sense what I'm feeling?" I say playfully with a large smile as I inch my way closer.

Michael's expression grows serious as he looks me straight in the eyes.

"No, I can't sense anything from you," he confesses grimly before narrowing his eyes. "And I still have access to all my other powers."

Taken aback by this, I sit down on the back of my legs and sigh. Why can't Michael sense my feelings? Did he do something wrong? He claims to have the rest of his "powers" intact...

"I've done nothing wrong," Michael says as if he is able to read my mind. "I still feel nature's will. If I were not able to sense it, I would never have made it here to resolve the problem haunting your town."

There's so much I want to know. I'm careful, however; I don't know how much he will be willing to tell me in one single sitting. But this latest development really irks me. Why can't he tell what I'm feeling? Had I done something wrong?

"Do you know why you can't sense my emotions, Michael?"

"I have a very good idea," Michael answers, once again clearing his throat.

"Why? Why can't you sense my emotions?"

"I will not answer that question," Michael states firmly. "I won't lie to you, and there's no chance of me telling you what the answer is. I suggest you drop it. I'm doing what's best for everyone here."

"Everyone?!" I argue in outrage. "What about me? Don't I have a say in this? Don't I count as a part of everyone?"

"You do," he says calmly, never losing his temper. "However, I will not tell you the truth. As being overly honest is one of my glaring faults, I'd rather be upfront and direct and just say I refuse to tell you. At least for now."

"How sure are you?" I ask growing in desperation. "You say you have a good idea, what's a good idea? You're sure to what extent? Like 80%?"

"I'm 99.9% sure, Liz..." Michael answers as if ready to be bombarded by me. And he will be bombarded.

"99.9%?! That's not a 'good idea,' that's you being as sure as you could possibly be, isn't it?! Never could it be something else. So what is it? Why can't you read my feelings and emotions? I want you to! I need you to know what I really feel."

"I say 'I have a good idea' because I also believe in 'never saying never'," he replies, unaffected by my tantrum. "And I'd also like to think I know how you feel. I would like to believe I can trust you. Personally, I feel as if I _know_ I can trust you."

I sit there silently in frustration for a few moments as Michael gazes up at the stars.

"All right well, then what happened?" I ask, finally giving up. "Your father became close to Columbus, did he sail with him?"

"Yes, yes he did, and I went with him," Michael answers, seemingly relieved that I've given up, for now. "As I'm sure you know, it was a long voyage. Columbus was a brilliant navigator, able to steer clear of almost every weather condition we could've encountered. But we sailed for so long, every day; the crew spoke more and more of mutiny. My father and I had no idea of what to do. For weeks we slept uneasily, wondering what would befall us if Columbus was murdered. Luckily however, we found land. We disembarked and greeted the indigenous people, and I'm sure you know the rest."

"Yes, I do," I say confidently. "The natives there worshipped the landing party as gods, and they offered up gold, clothing, even their wives. But there was a misunderstanding."

"Eventually there was, yes," Michael says. "As I said, Columbus was a brilliant navigator and sailor, but he was a terrible leader. After a while, he decided to go back to Spain and bring some of the natives with him as proof of his discovery. Those poor people thought they were being carried to heaven. In Columbus' absence, the sailors grew even more ruthless than before. My father wouldn't stand for that."

A sudden pause in Michael's story foretold his pain. I believe I see tears escapes his eyes as he relives what must have been a horror for him.

"My father stood up to the sailors, defending the natives there. He refused to hurt the men, though, as he had promised to never harm a human," he continues, speaking in a low tone. "Eventually he was shot and stabbed, many, many times. They tried fire, decapitation, hanging...but he would not die; he was a tribesman, after all. So they turned their attention on me, knowing me to be his son. They accused my father of being a witch; they accused me of being a demon's offspring. And then that's when it happened. My father, perhaps by nature's own hand, gave me all of his power. His memories and experiences, everything, in the blink of an eye. I vomited immediately; it was too much to handle. My father then taunted them, one last time. They ran a bayonet right through his heart, but this time, he was not a werewolf...he died that second."

"Wait, wait," I say, befuddled. "I thought you were a member of the tribe? Why would he need to give you his power? Didn't you already have it?"

"My mother was human," he explains remorsefully. "When I refer to us as members of the tribe, it might make things vague and confusing. You can have two werewolf parents and be born without any sort of power. Your body will be a bit sturdier than most, you'll be healthier and stronger, but that's it. You don't have the powers they do, but you're still a member of the tribe. You still have the potential of one day being tapped by nature to serve the balance, as a werewolf. There's hundreds of thousands of members of the tribe, we all share the same DNA you could say. But only a couple hundred members of the tribe are actual werewolves, if that. The werewolves are the ones primarily responsible for keeping the balance, the ones with powers. A werewolf is made only when nature feels one is necessary. When that time comes, a tribesman will be tapped. There are other ways of becoming a werewolf, but that's not really something to talk about for now."

I nod sympathetically. I know exactly what it feels like to have a family member taken from me right before my eyes. I stop myself from weeping in front of him. His pain strikes very close to home for me.

"And your leather jacket?" I ask in an attempt to get my mind off of all the sadness. "You said it was your father's."

"I fashioned myself that jacket from the little belongings he left on this earth," Michael explains sadly. "Every few years I rework it, patch it up as needed...it becomes my father's less and less as time goes by. I try not to wear it anymore."

After a horrible attempt at clearing the air, I allow him a breather from his story. If he wants to continue, he will. But I want him to do it at his own pace.

"Regardless, that's when Vincenzo came in," Michael continues, his head hanging low. "He ripped the throats out of all of the sailors, picked me up and carried me away. He even taught me more than my father did. I still remember him talking about how at his age, the old feuds seem childish. As a matter of fact, he even taught me how to master my werewolf abilities."

I shake my head in disbelief. How could the Vincent I just met be the Vincent that Michael was now describing? It didn't make sense.

"You shake your head?" Michael questions whimsically. "It's just that Vincenzo has phases. He goes through periods of being extremely bored. At least I can say that he doesn't feed on humans."

"Oh, jeez, is he one of those vegetarian vampires that feed only on animals?" I say in disbelief.

"Not exactly," Michael replies, lowering one eyebrow. "That stuff in the movies is getting closer and closer to fact, but vampires don't feed like that. They could, I should make that clear. But they consume blood for life. It would require an obscene amount of animal blood to get the same effect. At least that's the way Vincenzo describes it."

"So how does he do it? Is it even safe to be around him?"

"Vincenzo is so ancient, he requires very little blood to survive," Michael explains. "That's another reason I feel he doesn't affect the balance of nature much. He can go months without a single drop, but when he does feed, he goes to blood banks. There's a heart somewhere in Vincenzo's chest, he's just...not comfortable showing it. He feels he's superior to humans and he puts on that air of superiority. But he hasn't killed a human in centuries. I would know, because of the balance. He owns major blood banks around the world. And even without them, he could very easily get the blood he needs from willing humans. There are plenty of ordinary people who know about the world behind the curtain."

I sigh in relief. But with all these things being laid out on the table like this, all it does is to serve up even more questions. The term "world behind the curtain" doesn't even begin to describe this for what it truly is. My thoughts race back to every memory, every word that I've experienced these last few weeks. The more I think about it, the more it confuses me.

"Could you sense what Vincent was feeling today?" I have to know if he can keep me safe from Vincent. I also wanted to know if supers could use their powers against other supers. I was intrigued by his bad boy image, but after hearing Michael's story about Vincent...a vampire? I was very concerned.

"I could," Michael says. "I've never told anyone that I could sense Vincenzo's emotions. I'm also relatively certain he thinks his elder status makes him immune to my abilities; but Vincenzo underestimates the tribe."

"Well, are you going to tell me what Vincent was feeling?"

"Desperation...fear," Michael answers, almost as if he shares Vincent's dread. "It would seem that he's obsessed with the ring. It's making him nervous, and he's about to become unhinged. We don't want Vincenzo to fly off the handle. That would certainly cause a public spectacle. Many people would get hurt, or worse."

"What's the ring?" I turn to study Michael's face. I know that expression. His brow is furrowed and his mind is racing. He doesn't know if he wants to tell me. After hearing what he had just said about Vincent, I'm not sure I want to know. But I press on.

"Michael, are you going to tell me what the ring is?"

I ask again in hopes of softening his resistance. But Michael only looks me in the eye with the same uncertain look. Now I know for sure. I know I don't want to know what the ring is, but I _need_ to know. But will Michael budge?

#  Chapter 7

Michael looks at me without shifting his attention. In reality, he's staring at me, looking not at me, but through me. He's searching inside me and I can feel his probing. He's somehow testing me with his gaze.

"The ring isn't a what," he says after what seems like an eternity of silence. "The ring is more of a collective of whom. But more than that, I can't specify."

I rush into his chest as quickly as I can. I can feel my tears flowing freely now. I am completely desperate and confused. I had felt betrayed from the moment Vincent began speaking to me. But now, I have Michael face-to-face with me and he is flat-out refusing a simple request.

"You made me think the worst," I declare in between my sobbing. I'm angry. Angry at him and at myself. I never wanted to feel like this or to let anyone take me away from my mission of finding my mother. And here he is, a knight in shining armor, ready to prove to me that I didn't imagine the tragedy that happened so long ago that robbed me of a mother. Yet with all his answers, he will not help me.

"I'm sorry Liz," he whispers softly as he lowers his head.

"No, you don't get to apologize," I argue fiercely. "You disappeared. You're the one that made me feel guilty and afraid. Then I open myself up to you, and you know all of these things about what has been haunting me my whole, entire life. Do you know how many times I wondered if I was crazy? You know how many times I've asked just what the hell took my mother away? For all I know it could have been a werewolf! So you don't get to apologize! Not while I'm here giving you everything, telling you everything that's on my mind. All the while you know everything I _need_ to know and you're keeping it to yourself. So not only do I reject your apology, but I might as well reject you. I'm sure Vincent will tell me everything I want to know!"

Michael places both of his hands on my shoulder before raising my face up with his hand. His expression shows serious concern.

"Vincenzo is very dangerous," he explains calmly. "He doesn't see humans as equals. He sees humans as less than cattle. I can't control you, and I've never been the one to try to control others. But I...I care about you Liz. And Vincenzo would destroy that. He would manipulate you to his advantage, and after doing that, he would have me at his whim. If that happens, I can't handle this situation the way I think is best." He waits on my response with bated breath.

"He showed me more respect than cattle," I protest as I recall the encounter. "There is something arrogant about him, but he wasn't being overly disrespectful with me."

"You're...attracted to him?" Michael asks with disappointment on his face.

"I didn't say that," I respond immediately. "I was just trying to tell you, the guy's a big jerk. But I still bet if I ask him nicely enough, he'll tell me everything I want to know. Do you deny that?"

"And how would you contact him? Did you forget that little important part of your sinister plan?"

"Actually no," I say sarcastically, celebrating a small victory. "I didn't notice until I got in my car, but Vincent must have slipped his phone number in my pocket. I don't think he would do that to just any old cow, do you?"

"These are all a part of Vincenzo's games," he explains with frustration clear in his tone. "He is desperate and afraid, but this is all a part of him trying to cope with that. He also might be trying to get under my skin because he knows how I feel about you."

I recoil away from him in shock.

"Wait, are you saying that it's just impossible for him to be truly interested in me?" I ask as I feel a veiled insult being subtly thrown at me.

"No, that's not all that it is," Michael says as he shakes his head as if trying to unscramble the jumbled thoughts in his brain. "I've known Vincenzo for over five hundred years. I _know_ him. This is all a part of his plan. Think about it Liz. I know you're a smart young woman. I wouldn't lie to you. Why would he slip you his phone number like that? Because he knew he couldn't give it to you overtly; you would reject it. Why did he give it to you to begin with right after shaking your faith in me? He knew you would feel betrayed and confused. He probably was hoping to get you to contact him while you were at your most vulnerable so he could manipulate you to his own ends. And if he had you, he knows he would have me."

"Are you saying his only interest today was in controlling you?" I quip back immediately.

"Not at all," he responds just as fast back to me. "I do know it's not a coincidence you met him today and we're having this disagreement."

"Michael, I know you're not telling me everything," I announce, tired of the back and forth. "And I don't mean about the ring. You want to compliment me on how intelligent I am, yet you treat me like a child. Why does he want control over me? I get the distinct feeling you're honor-bound to Vincent; it's just the kind of guy you are. I saw you talking about the Russian and vampires. I saw the way your eyes looked when you spoke about protecting the balance. Vincent isn't the only one hiding something in his heart, you are too. He's your friend; are you ashamed of that?"

"No, I'm not ashamed to admit it," Michael says slowly. "Most would consider this a travesty, a taboo. But I don't judge people by what they are or have done in the past. Vincenzo saved my life, in more ways than one."

"Then why don't you just meet with him and go along with his plan?" I inquire more fiercely, stepping closer to him. "Why would he have to manipulate me to get my help? If he's your friend, wouldn't I be happy to help? You're suggesting that he is using me to get you to help...that he's manipulating me and you. Why would he have to do that?"

"It's not me he needs for his plan to succeed," Michael's defenses break down, finally, after a short pause. "He needs you. He just knows that if you're in danger I'll come along as well to ensure your safety."

"With—with me?" I stutter as I turn around and look towards my kitchen. All of the sudden I've developed a terrible headache. "Why? What does he want with me?"

I hear Michael's deep exhale. I feel his warm touch on my shoulder.

"Please, in time," Michael begins as he rubs my shoulder softly. "I can't tell you everything right now. I promise you, there will be a day when I tell you everything the moment you ask me. But right now, I have a responsibility I must uphold. If I fail in my responsibility, I jeopardize this entire town and the entire continent. I imagine this must only put you even further into unease. I need you to stay here. As much as you want to, you mustn't call Vincenzo. He has a way of sneaking into people before they even notice it. If that were to happen to you, that would be...devastating."

I look deep into Michael's eyes. I'm trying to feel his heart. Even now his words feel like they have a double meaning. As much as I loved looking into his eyes, I couldn't stand the hypocrisy any further.

"If you really won't tell me, then I'm going to ask you to leave," I announce reluctantly. "I care for you as well Michael, more so than I ever thought I could. But we haven't even known each other that long, and you're already keeping major secrets. We're not talking about common problems that people have. You just finished telling me a completely unbelievable story and I believed every word you said to me. But I can't trust that you're doing what's right for me, not now. You don't get to make that choice. I'm a big girl; you should respect me more than that. Please, just go."

I walk towards the front door and open it. I stare at the ground as I lean on the door, waiting for Michael to exit my home. I didn't know why I feel such closeness with Michael, but I do know that I can't stand the sight of him right now. For all of his talk about honesty, he's lying to himself. He just opened my eyes to the real world that existed, and then told me to pretend it wasn't real. I'm not ready for that.

"You're right, you do have the right to make your own decisions," Michael agrees as I hear him approach the door. I feel him turn to face me but I continue to avoid his stare. "But after being alive for more than half a millennium, I think I can put things in to perspective. I was just hoping you could trust me enough until you absolutely had to know everything. Your world was already broken and traumatized...I simply didn't want to add any more of a burden to you. Have a good night."

I see the shadow of his head bow in my direction and watch him leave. I curse at myself silently before I rush out the front door, looking for him. But he's already gone. It's just me and the loud, powerful gust of wind bellowing in the air. Unsure of what to do, I go back inside and slam the door shut. I force back my tears. They were tears of frustration, pain and betrayal. But I don't know why I feel such a maelstrom of emotions. All I know is that I want to think things through and sort out everything that had just been told to me.

I search the pocket of my work uniform and pull out Vincent's phone number. I look at it as I bite my lip in frustration. I crumple it up into a ball as I run upstairs to my bedroom and throw the small paper ball onto my bed. I walk to the bathroom, wash my face and take a long, hard look at myself.

Any normal person would have been freaking out. Any normal person would have not believed any of what happened tonight. But for some reason, all of it feels real to me. It feels natural, for some reason. I exhale deeply as I plop myself down on my bed next to the balled-up note. I open it up and stare at Vincent's handwriting, looking at it as if it would offer a clue.

That wasn't going to help, I decide. So instead I go over the conversation I had with Vincent. He had a way about him all right...as I lay there, playing out the entire day's events over and over in my head, something keeps nagging at me. At Jack's Place, Vincent referred to me as a keeper. Twice. I thought that was unusual at the time, but I'd been busy worrying about the two of them fighting.

And wait...Vincent had told Michael "you did come for the keeper." Had he been referring to me?

In that instant, I manage to do it. Aside from all of Michael's misgivings and warnings, I manage to talk myself into calling Vincent. A part of me knows it's wrong, but another part, a part I didn't even know existed, tells me I have to call him. I deserve to know, I keep telling myself.

I run downstairs and search frantically for my cell phone. When I find it, I fumble a few times before being able to plug in Vincent's phone number. The phone rings twice before he picks up.

"Hel-hello?" I whisper into my phone, almost too terrified to hold onto the thing. "Is this Vincent?"

"My, if it isn't the blonde vixen herself," Vincent replies confidently over the cell. "Why are you calling me at such a late hour? That seems a little unladylike. Or did you and Mikey have a fight?"

"That's none of your business Vincent," I spit back at him angrily.

"My, I do seem to have gotten under your skin," Vincent replies nonchalantly. "Yet here we are, talking on the phone. And with the world's modern day marvels and caller ID and all of that, I now have your number, too. I guess you'll just have to change it if you don't ever want me to reach you now."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that if you really wanted to find me, you could," I say, trying to act tougher.

"Ah, but you're learning," he answers with a soft chuckle. "So, I guess wolf boy came out of the closet?"

"He did."

"Aw, but how unfair," he says, mocking disappointment. "It would seem he outed me from the coffin, so to speak. That should be my breakthrough, not his! Ha, ha...so, what's on your mind, sweetheart?"

"Cut the crap, Vincent," I order as I become increasingly more bold. "I know about the ring. I just need to know about me. Why do they need me?"

"Do you have any idea who you're trying to swindle here?" Vincent asks softly, waiting a few seconds before continuing. "I've been alive for over a thousand years missy. Did you think I'd be unable to detect a lie after such a long time? It's a thousand years, Izzy. That's a long time."

"How did you know to call me Izzy?" I ask nervously.

"Oh, I have my ways," he boasts without skipping a beat. "Anyhoo, shall I drop in and pay you a visit? I imagine you have oodles of questions. I can answer all of them, and I don't hold back."

"I'm not giving you my address," I reply pointlessly. I know he probably has it already. If he didn't use some vampire trick, there was always the internet.

"Wow, you're the ditzy kind of blonde aren't you? There's this new thing, it's called a search engine. I just type your name in this magical little device called a com-pu-ter, and I can learn everything about you," he says in a joking tone. "I'm only offering this once. Do you want me to pass by? I'm not busy right now, I can swing in, maybe have a bottle of merlot, make an evening out of it."

I hesitate. For all his charm and his demeanor that oozes with suave charisma, Vincent really makes me afraid. He isn't as calm and collected as Michael. But in this short amount of time, I had learned that I was dealing with primordial creatures that used to be spoken about in stories to keep children in their beds at night. I need to learn more.

"Fine, drop on by. Just don't try anything stupid," I warn in vain.

I'm answered by a laugh at the other end as I hear Vincent hang up. Literally two minutes later, there's a knock at my door. I open it to find Vincent there, holding the bottle of merlot he had promised.

"Good evening stranger," he says playfully with a bright smile on his finely chiseled face. "Brought the merlot, even though I bet you're too much of a goody-two-shoes to drink it. I figured I would need it to get drunk if you continue this innocent damsel crap."

"Whatever," I answer, brushing him off. Even though I only met him today, I feel as if I've known him forever. "You're only here because I need you here."

"That's right, booze. You're only here because I need you here, to put up with this one," Vincent says as he talks to the bottle before acknowledging me again. "You just going to stand there?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

"You don't read much do you?" Vincent says aloofly as he studies the borders on my front door. "Vampires need to be invited in and all that. It was something put in place so we just couldn't go around sucking on the townsfolk to death as we pleased."

I swallow hard as once again the scary truth glares at me from the other side of my front door's frame. This wasn't a man, I need to remind myself; he's a monster.

"Well, I've had my fun," Vincent says as he steps into my home. I gasp in shock and almost fall on my rear before Vincent grabs me. He laughs as he heads into my kitchen and kicks the door behind him.

"But I didn't invite you in?" I say questioningly. I'm beyond confused.

"I know, I lied," Vincent says, still laughing. "You don't need to be invited in. That's something we made up to make it easier to hunt. You see, in the old days, people thought they were safe as long as they stayed home and didn't invite any strangers in. In reality, all they were doing was making it easier for us to find them. Our food was waiting for us in a box, all it needed was a nice bright red bow tied around it."

Vincent continues to chuckle to himself as he searches around my kitchen, opening cupboards as if he's been here before.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing?" I ask, still affected by the new information.

"We can't very well drink out of the bottle, can we?" Vincent asks as he peeks his head into one of my higher cupboards. "I assume you do have wine glasses, don't you? Will you be joining me or will you be wussing out?"

I shake my head. "I'm a minor who is constantly being sent to shrinks all the time," I report angrily. "I don't have wine glasses because I don't drink. And I can't drink because if I were to drink and get sent to a random drug test, they would think the reason why I come up with crazy stories about things that go bump in the night is because of the alcohol."

"There are scary things that go bump in the night?" Vincent says as he stops and drapes himself over one of my kitchen counters. "If that is the case, then I simply must drink. I don't have the courage our good Michael has. You can watch me if you'd like, I'm a sociable drunk."

I eye Vincent down as harshly as I can, but I see he is amused by my frustration. I make my way to the living room and turn on the television. Vincent follows me shortly after with a big red plastic cup and his bottle of merlot. He sits down right next to me as if we were familiar.

"Excuse me," I say, hoping for a little courtesy.

"Oh, please," he responds. "You're the one with a bony ass. I think your hipbone is actually digging into my side here."

I don't know why, but I slap him. Hard, too. And I really don't know why, but Vincent just looks at me, smiles, and takes a sip from his plastic cup.

"You look ridiculous. You're sipping fancy wine from a 20 cent cup," I say finally, giving up a laugh. "And I don't have a bony ass. We all can't have computer generated muscles like you and Michael."

"I know, you have a perky butt," he says with a smile as he bites his lower lip. "Not too big; just right actually. And I'm glad to see you've noticed I've been working out."

He smiles at me again before taking another sip and looking at the television. I give him a moment before I clear my throat in hopes of getting his attention. He turns to me as if he has no idea of the information I want from him.

"Yes?" he asks innocently as he looks back to the television. "I've seen this movie before. It's a great flick. I still can't believe this didn't get the credit it deserved, and the actors, man, the actors. They were really underpaid."

"Why did you refer to me as a keeper?" I said, letting the elephant out into the room.

"Just one second, this is one of my favorite parts," Vincent says as he points to the television, pretending he didn't hear me.

I repeat my question, but all I get is a raised hand from Vincent. He apparently really wants me to wait until this particular scene of the movie is over. He mouths the lines to the movie silently the entire time and then turns to me when it's over.

"You were saying?" Vincent asks as he pours himself another cup of wine. "Oh, the keeper thing. Michael didn't tell you? Then that also means he doesn't know you called me. And all that means is that I'm essentially upsetting my oldest friend in the world by being here right now. My, my...it would appear I'm faced with a moral dilemma."

"And why is that?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I do actually care what Michael thinks of me," Vincent explains casually as he continues to enjoy his merlot. "You could call him the little brother I never had, or something like that. He's a good man, and the only man I trust. The problem is, by our very personalities, we go about fixing problems in different ways. I can see why he wouldn't explain everything to you. I'm just not sure that's wise at this juncture..."

Vincent's words trail off as he delves deeper into his cup. For once, his sapphire eyes seem to lose their luster, as if they were dead.

"I think I should speak with Michael again before I reveal everything to you," Vincent says with a long sigh. "It's not my business to pretend to know what's best for everyone. Michael feels comfortable doing that, I don't. I just do what I have to do, and screw everyone who disagrees with me."

"No Vincent, you told me you would tell me," I plead desperately. "Don't I have the right to choose? If the decision to know or not know what might happen to my home, my town and friends, isn't mine, then whose decision is it?"

Vincent looks at his cup pensively before placing it on the table in front of us. He then turns to me and scratches his forehead. He appears to be racked with some sort of guilt or secret.

"Before I make my decision, I want you to make sure you know the consequences of your decision," Vincent confesses, his demeanor completely serious now. "I am the oldest vampire in existence right now. But that could change. It could change in a day, in an hour, in a second. I can die, and if I die, there will be other vampires who disagreed with my decision to inform you of the true world. What humans refer to as supernatural, well, that's the real world, in all of its parts to us. Since you know about Michael, that will speed things up considerably. Michael is a werewolf. He is what humans would call a 'supernatural vigilante'. He has received his gifts as part of a greater responsibility to keep balance in the world. Most supernatural entities would kill Michael if given the chance. They do not agree or welcome a being of such power into the fold. They can't understand why Michael can be judge, jury, and executioner. I however, have been around a long time. I've come to understand the need for what Michael does. But vampire society is different. We have a hierarchy, we have a system. In that system, we demand at least a tiny bit of order. Not many in that system would agree with me telling you anything, at least, not yet."

"Wait, what do you mean by not yet?" I interrupt him. "I've heard you constantly refer to me differently. You've called me a keeper, and instead of including me with the humans, you've made it a point to consistently exclude me. Why?"

Vincent looks at me before pushing his hair back. He turns his attention instead to the bottle of wine sitting on the table.

"I hope you don't mind sweetheart," Vincent says as he grabs the bottle and drinks straight out of it. "I do believe our time for passing pleasantries has eluded us. You will forgive me for not giving your intellect the credit it most certainly deserves. But, I will once again affirm my position. Once you know this, it _will_ change your world. There's no going back from this. I can tell you everything. I can face Michael's wrath, hell, I'll even face the council's wrath if need be. I don't really care about the council to begin with. But you're the one that has to live knowing the truth. Can you really handle the truth? It might ruin you."

Vincent seems genuinely concerned for my well being. Whatever it might be, it's huge. I'd rather live in an ugly truth than a beautiful lie. That's something I've always told myself. I look up towards Vincent's finely detailed features before I answer him.

"If the world I'm living in isn't the real one," I begin softly, gathering all my courage, "then I'd rather face the real world with my head held high then continue to live in a daydream."

Vincent nods his head slowly. It seems as if he admires me, if only for a moment. But then he takes a deep breath, as if he's mustering his courage, and leans in closer to me.

"I excluded you for a reason," he says softly, the wine heavy on his breath. "I said humans this and humans that for a reason. You're not human. You're what we would call a super."

"I'm...not...human?" I barely utter as I feel the world closing in around me.

"Not in the least, sweetheart," Vincent says as he takes another swig from his bottle. "And you're one of the most special kinds of supernaturals in existence. You're a keeper, in more ways than one, beautiful."

I stare at Vincent for a long time before I can speak. Am I a monster? Something like Vincent or Michael? A bedtime story to keep the kids in bed at night?

If only that were the case...

#  Chapter 8

"Am I some kind of monster?" I ask, stammering my way through the question. Vincent tilts his head to the side in mock offense.

"Am _I_ some kind of monster?" he asks back, still pretending to be hurt.

"Yes, you are," I reply hatefully. "You've killed people haven't you? You feed on people's blood for sustenance! If that's not enough to qualify you as a monster, then what would?"

"I have killed people, many people," Vincent confesses coldly. He doesn't seem to have any regret over the lives he's taken. "And yeah, I suppose having to drink blood from people is pretty macabre and dark. But essentially, all vampires are doing are what regular humans do in their everyday lives."

"What?!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," he says in a halting tone. "Think about it. Most humans eat meat; it's part of a healthy diet. Yeah, you have your vegans and vegetarians or whatever, but they end up having to get things like protein and other good stuff found in meat from peanuts or whatever they eat. Vampires basically bypassed the entire process and went right to the source. Whereas a normal human might have an eight ounce steak, we can drink a couple mouthfuls of blood and survive off of that for days or more at a time."

"And the older you get, the less you need?" I ask, trying to look at it from Vincent's perspective.

"Yeah, as vampires age, everything we do becomes more efficient," he answers as he pours himself more wine. "I only need a few drops to hold me over for several months. It's still nice to have it every once in a while, though. The experience you feel while feeding is pure ecstasy; it's downright sensual, even for the victim. Maybe you'll give it a try sometime?"

He gives me a cocky smile and holds up the bottle as if to toast me before taking another drink.

"So what am I, then?" I ask after gathering enough courage.

"You're a keeper," Vincent says as he avoids my stare, instead choosing to look straight ahead. "A keeper, as in keeper of the blood. You are the rarest super there is, custos sanguinis. Your kind comes around once every few generations, if at all. And when your sort does show up, all hell breaks loose. Which is why I'm so thrilled you chose to know the truth. It will make protecting you that much easier."

"All hell breaks loose?" I ask as I near the point of hyperventilation. "Why? What do you mean? Does this have something to do with the ring?"

"Something to do with it, yes," Vincent says as he stares at the bottom of the glass bottle. "Your kind is one of the most unique supers there are, Izzy. You ever sleep with anyone?"

Vincent turns to face me with a sly smile. I slap him in the face as hard as I can, especially now that I know I can't physically hurt him.

"You really should stop slapping me," Vincent suggests with another smile. "I might start liking it."

I slapped him again; maybe the third time is a charm.

"We're getting there," Vincent says with a chuckle as he begins to eye me up and down. "Yeah, I think I like it."

Growing tired of his rudeness, I try to slap him again, but he catches my hand gently and places it on his cheek. His skin is flawless, but it lacks heat. I wouldn't say it's cold, like I expect it to be. It just isn't warm.

"Listen here princess," Vincent says as he places his hand over mine. "The reason I ask about your virginity is because that's what keepers are for. Mating."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't try this cutesy routine, you heard me," he says as he holds the bottle upside down and frowns when he sees no more wine coming out. Vincent stands up and heads to my kitchen, presumably to take liberties with my food. "I said that's what keepers are for, they're for mating. Keepers 'keep' the bloodline of the super intact. They're the only 'natural' way we can procreate. And that's not even the best part of this party."

I stand up and walk towards my kitchen to hear him better. I find him going through my pantry.

"What are you doing?" I ask in an irritated tone. "Are you looking for food? I thought you only had blood?"

"No, we can eat," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's more like a pleasure. We don't need to eat. We can do everything a human can do, except with our superior senses, everything is enhanced. We can taste subtle herbs that are placed in our food and smell little things most people wouldn't even know where there. Do you really have no more alcohol in this joint?"

I shake my head no, making no effort to hide my frustration from Vincent. He looks at me for a moment as he takes his attention away from my pantry briefly. He sighs and walks towards me with a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Look, believe it or not, I care," Vincent assures me. "But you've got to understand something; when you're almost 1600 years old, there's literally nothing I haven't seen. I can understand that this is earth-shattering news for you. For me though, this is nothing new. It's just another day. I told you I would answer your questions, and I will. I just want a little bit of a buzz if I'm going to get hassled with questions all night."

"My father has a bit of a drinking problem," I say reluctantly. "He usually leaves bottles of stuff around when he visits. I pick them up when he passes out and I store them. I'll find you something to drink. Do you have a preference?"

"I'll take vodka if you have any," Vincent says as his mood lightens. "Do you have tonic water?"

I nod slowly and I go to my father's secret stash. I bring Vincent back what he requested and he smiles with childlike glee as he rushes to make himself a drink.

"Now, can you tell me more about my condition, you drunk?" I ask with a slight smile.

Vincent looks up at me from his drink and takes a sip from his plastic cup. He winces and twists his face in disgust.

"Yuck, that's disgusting," he declares. "What kind of cheap, third rate vodka is this? Is this a bootleg brand or something?"

"I'm sorry, it's all I have," I say in embarrassment as I reach for the bottle of liquor. "I didn't mean to offend you. I can put it away."

Vincent snatches the vodka bottle back and cradles it like a prized possession.

"No, it'll do," Vincent says with a disappointed look. "I suppose it will have to. What a buzz kill."

I look at him oddly as an idea sparks in my mind.

"Hey wait a second," I say as I verbalize my thoughts and curiosity. "You and Michael have unnatural healing, don't you? I saw Michael's wounds close immediately. Twice. Remember when you punched him? If you guys heal so fast, how can you get drunk? Or do vampires not heal as fast as werewolves?"

Vincent smirks at me as he turns his face away, as if I've just insulted him.

"No, that's not the way it works," Vincent says condescendingly as if this is common knowledge. "Vampires heal much faster than humans, we can even re-grow limbs almost instantly. Just like everything, the older you get, the better this ability becomes. But it's a survival thing. I'm willingly lowering my defenses so that I can get drunk. I told you, there's a lot I have to tell you. If I were to tell you everything I know, it would take years. This is boring, I need the amusement. Besides, I don't know how you'll react or how Michael will react. The point is, by the end of it all, I know I'll need a drink."

"Oh, that's good, I guess," I reply with uncertainty. "I thought you were some sort of alcoholic. But you're just drinking to have the courage to tell me about myself?"

"The courage? I don't need courage to deal with you, Goldilocks," he says to me with an unconvincing expression. "Well, maybe a little. And Michael is going to be mad, real mad. Might even slug me for telling you...but hell, you asked, right? Can't blame a guy for trying."

"You're still not done telling me you know," I point out as I gently try to steer the conversation back to the topic. "Tell me more about the keepers. You made it sound like there was a bigger part to my...biology."

"Biology? That's an interesting way to put it," Vincent says with a low cough. "Keepers mate with other supers, supers they have strong feelings for. The mating always results in an offspring being conceived and eventually born. So, obviously, all keepers are females. During the mating, a keeper is basically keeping a piece of the super she is mating with. This causes a transformation in both the keeper and the super she's mating with. The super becomes extremely powerful for bonding with a keeper, even if the bond is only a temporary one. The keeper then changes into whatever she mated with. So if you and I were to fool around and knock boots, you'd turn into a vampire and I would become even more powerful than I am."

He smiles at me before hiding himself behind his plastic cup.

"I can still slap you behind that cup you know," I announce as I try to take all this in.

"Yeah, but if you do you'll have to clean up the mess from your kitchen floor," Vincent replies. "Anyhoo, you can see why keepers are so valuable. You have the potential to be any super; all you have to do is sleep with them. After that, you become pregnant and just as powerful as the super you mated with. The super you did the deed with becomes even more powerful and his bloodline is continued with the child you will eventually have. That child will be just like the two parents, but more importantly, it's a real child. A keeper is the only way a super can really have a child of their own, biologically. Plus, everyone becomes stronger in the process; I really can't stress that enough."

"I notice you keep bringing that up," I say cautiously. "I get the feeling a lot of supers would die at the chance to get a keeper to mate with them. Is that why you said all hell breaks loose?"

"Bingo," he answers instantly. "Keepers are notoriously hard to find. It's almost like you guys are born with this ability to be invisible to us. I bet some keepers live their entire lives and are never found by the super community. I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"And the ring?" I say, wondering what it could have to do with me. "You've been hinting at them wanting me or needing me. At Jack's you told Jack that I have everything to do with this. What did you mean by that?"

Vincent shakes his head and carries the bottle of vodka and tonic along with his plastic cup back to the living room.

"You're a keen one, aren't you?" Vincent says with a less than serious tone. "Do you honestly know what the ring is? Please, keep in mind, I'll know if you're lying."

"How would you know if I'm lying?" I ask playfully. I have no problem trying to beat Vincent at his own game. "Is that another vampire trick?"

"No, not at all," Vincent answers honestly. "It's an 'I've been around the block fifteen hundred times trick. I tried to charm you earlier, at Jack's. It didn't work. That's when I knew for certain you were a keeper. I wasn't sure before that. As I said, you keepers have some real nifty abilities to avoid the rest of the supers. A jealous type might even say you're trying to avoid us."

Vincent begins to laugh again in his usual carefree manner, but I wasn't about to let him evade my questions.

"Charm me? I'd hardly consider you charming," I say to him casually trying to play off his surreal good looks. "By the way you're using it though, I suspect that's a vampire trick, isn't it?"

"I think I've told you more than enough," Vincent voices to my dismay. "What if from now on, I only answer you if you answer me? I'll start. You really don't know what the ring is, do you, Izzy?"

I pause, dumbstruck by this new development. Vincent did enjoy his mind games and true to form, he isn't about to let me just have every piece of information I need without messing around with my head first.

"No, I just know that it's not a thing, it's a who," I admit frankly.

"Those don't sound like your words," Vincent says as he places his fingers to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "If I were a betting man, and I am, I'd say Michael told you that. All right, fair enough. Yes, I tried to charm you. And yes, it's a vampire trick, if that's what you want to call it. Some call it domination or compulsion. Blah, blah, blah. It's all the same thing, you make a human do whatever you want them to do. That something can be anything, even something that goes against their very nature. I tried to charm you when I asked you to sit down next to me at the restaurant, yet you didn't. As far as I'm concerned, that made it obvious to me you were a keeper. You keepers give off a certain scent, you see. But you only give it off when you're truly feeling love or lust for someone. You're apparently stitched together at the knees and don't feel lust, so that scent was really hard to find. When my powers didn't work on you, I knew you could only be one thing, a keeper. Keepers have the nasty ability of being immune to all of the supernatural powers any supers possess. I suppose you all are born that way so that a vampire or a siren, or anything else for that matter, can't just entice you to mate with them. You have to mate with them willingly or else it doesn't work."

"Completely skipping over the part where you said I was stitched at the knees," I chime in, more than a little offended, "you still haven't told me why the ring needs me or what they are."

"Yes, well, if you'll remember, I referred to you as keeper of the blood," Vincent reminds me sarcastically. "That's not some fancy term. That's literally what you are. You're a blank slate for supers to write on. The ring is actually a group of witches. They're here looking for you, I imagine. A witch is powerful enough alone, but sometimes they unite their magic and form a ring. Humans normally refer to these as covens. When a ring is formed, they permanently dedicate a portion of their magic to the ring, weakening them as an individual witch, but making them unbelievably strong together. There are all sorts of things a group of witches can do, but with a keeper as a sacrifice or functioning as a totem of power? Forget about it. They could literally destroy this entire town without breaking a sweat."

"A group of witches?" I say with a deep exhale. Everything keeps getting worse and worse.

"Yep, see, even being as powerful as I am, I couldn't find you as quickly as Michael could," Vincent confesses with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Werewolf senses are superior to vampire senses, that one I'll give him. He found you and is probably trying to destroy the ring. I am too, while we're on the subject."

I ponder the matter even as all of these thoughts threaten to shred my mind. I'm broken out of the trance as my front door swings open and I see a furious Michael standing in the doorway. He stares at me first, then at Vincent. He maintains his menacing glare on Vincent.

"You idiotic, pretentious, arrogant, know-it-all fool," Michael growls as he begins his slow walk towards Vincent, who is still enjoying his drink without a care in the world. "How could you do this? I trusted you on this and this is how you repay me? You just ruined this girl's life!"

I stand up in protest and push myself between Vincent and Michael. Vincent however, seems completely unaffected. I put my hands on Michael's chest and hit him as hard as I can. I'm positive that I hurt myself worse than I hurt him.

"If anyone deserves to get a scolding it's you!" I declare in outrage. "You knew I was a keeper and you said _nothing_?! Aren't I enough of an adult for you to let me choose my own life? If this is what I truly am, why hide it? I was going to find out the hard way when these witches came looking for me!"

"That's what I'm here for," Michael replies sternly as he looks at me. His gaze now demands obedience even from me. I'm sincerely intimidated. "I was born for this role. To protect the people. And if you didn't want this life, you would have had that option, but _he_ took it away. You'll never be able to forget about what has been said this night, and that's Vincenzo's fault. _He_ is the one to blame; he took away your innocence!"

"You were spying on me?" I question in outrage. "What gives you the right to spy on me?! I'm not a child!"

"Classic Michael," I hear Vincent say behind me in calmly. "I told you, it's those werewolf senses. They're like supersonic or something."

"Vincent is drunk," I announce, trying to bring some laughter into the room. I fail miserably. "He knew you would get this way, so he got himself a little...hammered."

"Of course he knew I would get this way," Michael replies angrily. "This might be 'classic Michael' but this is also 'classic Vincenzo.' He played with you, just like I told you he would. I told you and you didn't trust in me."

I turn to see Vincent pouring himself another drink, not even bothering to serve himself ice.

"What do I say about you then, Michael?!" I ask in frustration. "You're outside my home, prowling like some sort of stalker. You didn't trust me enough to let me be alone. If you knew all this about me, you should have told me. I deserved the truth; I thought you respected me at least that much. Did you ever think that withholding the truth would endanger me more than it would protect me?"

Michael loosens his balled-up fists and sighs deeply before leaning on the wall. He looks at me. His green eyes are watering up with what I can only imagine is anger and regret.

"There's something Vincenzo left out of his explanation," Michael begins slowly. "He conveniently left out the part about how keepers and other supers are chemically attracted to one another. You know all about pheromones, right? Well, the pheromones you give off and receive from other supers...it's a hundred times worse than any junkie's addiction. It's intoxicating, even to you. I wanted you to love me, for me. Not because you were chemically predisposed to loving me."

"Oh, what a romantic," Vincent says sarcastically, still sitting on my sofa. "I swear Michael, you always know what to say to get me to forgive you."

Michael looks at Vincent menacingly before relenting and turning his attention back to me.

"It might have been selfish," Michael continues, the sorrow clear on his face and brow. "But I had to be sure. Besides, I know you Liz, you would have wanted in on this. And after all the research I've done, I think only Vincenzo and I together can stop these witches without any collateral damage."

"Oh please," Vincent says as he rises drunkenly from my sofa. "You should know me better than _that_ at least, Michael. You know me, the information broker? I got my hands in everyone's pockets, everyone owes me a favor. There's not a piece of information I can't get. I'm a jack of all trades, baby."

Michael scoffs before he turns to address Vincent. "Yeah, so?" he asks, his patience clearly running thin.

"Yeah so? What is that supposed to mean?" Vincent asks as if he's surprised by the question. "It means I already know what and how to take these stupid spell-slinging witches out of the picture. They've put up all sorts of protective spells over themselves. Not even my witches can break the barrier. There's only one option to it, really. We have to use Izzy here as bait."

"I knew you were going to do this," Michael hisses as he switches his attention between Vincent and me several times. "This is why I always try to fix things before asking for your help. We can't risk Liz's life. If the witches get her and complete the ritual, we can kiss all of North America goodbye. I'm not willing to risk her life, or all the lives of everyone on the continent, on your reckless gamble."

"It's not a gamble, you rabid chipmunk," Vincent slurs. "It's very simple. I've been briefed on what the ritual is, and it's long and boring. But whatever, they sacrifice the keeper at the end. We'll have hours to find her and the witches doing the ceremony and stop them. And, if Izzy is in on it, she can help us. She can leave a trail for your dog nose to sniff out, just like in the movies. She can like, rip pieces of her clothing off as she goes by and stuff."

Michael exhales before bending over and resting his arms on his knees in frustration.

"That's the best you can come up with?" he asks after staring Vincent down thoroughly. "Let's just risk this innocent girl's life? It 'should' work? Vincenzo, what the hell, are you deluded?"

"You know what one of your biggest problems is?" Vincent asks, his words slippery with alcohol. "You think of the world in black and white. Balance and chaos. There's a whole lotta gray, big guy. This might be our only chance at getting a clear shot at the ring, without endangering the local populace. If the ring has to search to find Izzy, who knows how many humans are going to suffer for it? Are you fine living with that? It's either endangering one life or endangering dozens, maybe even hundreds of lives. So, are you fine with that?"

"I don't want any humans dead, that's the point!" Michael yells back in anger. He tenses his body up before turning to me. "There has to be a better way than just tossing you to them."

"Does this poor, defenseless girl have a vote at all?" I ask as I grow increasingly angry at Michael. "You can't coddle me. I would rather live in the real world, no matter how ugly it is, than live in a world that doesn't exist. Eventually, I would have learned about 'the world behind the curtain.' If things went your way, I wouldn't have been ready. This is my life, and I should live it however I choose. Do you have a better idea than what Vincent just came up with? Because if you do, I'm all ears."

"Liz, I was your age once," Michael says, trying to calm his demeanor. "But then the decades kept rolling by, so fast they became centuries. And before I knew it, even the centuries felt like nothing. Your entire lifetime up to now, I have lived more than twenty five times over. So please understand, while I admire your courage and your spirit in wanting to help others, I am not just about to hand you over to the ring. If I did I'm risking your life and the ring could still succeed in their plan, making your sacrifice useless."

"You know something that's really cool about being a super?" Vincent asks out of the blue. "When I was turned into a vampire, I lost like fifteen or twenty years off of my face. I changed back into my physical prime. Mikey here went and became like ten years older, into what would become his physical prime. If you end up mating with a super you'll be super hot forever. Just thought I'd throw that out there as a selling point. Mating with a vampire sounds better now, doesn't it?"

Michael and I both share an expression of disbelief as we take in the sheer randomness of Vincent's statement. Vincent can't stop his laughter as he tries his best not to fall over onto the floor. It's Vincent himself who stops the awkwardness of the moment by breaking the silence.

"You know what, Izzy?" Vincent asks, almost as if he himself is incredulous at our expressions. "You're going to grow old real fast if you let Michael's moodiness influence you. And Mikey, you need to stop acting like such a worrywart. You and I are two of the most powerful beings on this planet. What do we have to worry about?"

"Is that true?" I ask Michael in earnest curiosity. "Are you both that powerful?"

"Yes," Michael answers after a long pause. "Most vampires don't get to live half as long as Vincenzo here. There is only one vampire who is reputed to be more powerful, and he might even be an urban legend."

"Don't even talk about that punk," Vincent says as he staggers his way towards us. "No one alive has seen him. He's probably just that, an urban legend. Just tell your girlfriend here the truth. Tell her how powerful we really are, stop the whole humility thing. It makes me want to barf."

I look to Michael with concern. He swallows nervously and refuses to return my gaze.

"Michael, are you both that impressive?" I ask, carefully choosing my words. "If it _is_ true, then I have nothing to worry about. We can go through with Vincent's plan. But I need to hear it from you, the man I care for. The one who promised never to lie to me." I stare Michael down hard. I am hoping to see weakness in his display, but can find none. He turns his eyes back to me and narrows them.

"Vincenzo and I by ourselves are undefeatable, regardless of the odds," he says, as if this is a well known fact. "Together, fighting side by side, no one on this planet stands a chance against our combined might. But I don't want you to be challenged with such a risk. We have no idea how long the ritual might be. For that matter, we don't have any clue as to who is pulling the strings. These witches cannot be acting alone, Vincenzo."

"That's true, my little brother," Vincent muses jovially as he drapes his arm around Michael. Vincent almost has to get on his toes to reach Michael's neck. "But does it really matter? For all we know, this could be a trap to lure us out. I know I would use this as the perfect moment to spring a trap for my werewolf nemesis if I had to. You do have your enemies, you know."

"Yes, that I do," Michael says as he removes Vincent's arm from his neck and places Vincent close to the wall. "But my enemies know I have you as a best friend. And with a best friend such as you, who needs enemies?"

"Whatever," Vincent scoffs as he tries to balance himself on the wall. "Don't be surprised if they are behind all of this. We can only hope the Coronam does not know about little Izzy's existence here. If they do, she's dead."

"Mind your tongue Vincenzo," Michael warns.

"What's the Coronam?" I ask, nervously afraid to hear more bad news. I thought this night couldn't get any worse.

"The Coronam are a group of individuals we might have to deal with," Michael says, mindful of his words. "But if we do deal with them, it won't be any time soon."

"How do you know that?" Vincent asks as he looks at Michael with disbelief. "You're really naïve and optimistic if that's what you really think. Izzy, the Coronam are a council of ancient vampires; they supervise the entire vampire kingdom. They've been wanting a keeper so that they could breed a race of enhanced ancient vampires. They'd do anything to have a keeper in their ranks. Last I heard, about a century or two ago, their plan was to see if a keeper was capable of multiple births. They wanted to pass her around like a breeding hound. Just one of the many reasons why I hate the council, bunch of wannabe sophisticates. Not the real deal."

Michael sighs in anger before covering his face with his hand. He pinches the bridge of his nose and stares at the ground.

"Is this true? Would they really try to turn me into some sort of baby factory?" I ask Michael with increasing desperation.

Michael doesn't look up or change his demeanor. "Yes," Michael answers plainly. "If they had their way, they would ravage you."

"And what about what Vincent is saying? Why is it likely we will have to deal with the Coronam? Are they probably manipulating these witches into doing whatever it is they're doing?"

Michael finally removes his hand from his face as he looks at me. "Yes Liz," he says with despair heavy in his voice. "The vampires have been trying to make a move to take complete control over the world. Having you would hasten their plan exponentially. It is most probable that they are the ones behind this...witches are usually in tune with nature. Originally, all witches were one with the balance. They've strayed over the years and decades...some keep to themselves, some work with other supers, but many... more and more it would seem these days, are aligning themselves with the Coronam."

"And if the Coronam succeeds in their plans?"

"We don't know what the Coronam wants," Michael stresses. "But we do know that it would decimate the human population. And it would most certainly revolve around you. You are the world's only keeper at this moment. Their attention is most assuredly focused solely on you."

"So, how does it feel to know that the world will live or die depending on what you decide, Izzy?" Vincent asks jokingly as he takes another drink straight from the bottle.

"The world...?" I stammer as I struggle to put my thoughts in order. "Will live or die by my decisions?"

#  Chapter 9

I spend ten minutes pacing back and forth. Michael is completely silent, and there's an occasional complaint from Vincent because all the vodka is gone. I take a long, deep look at all aspects of the situation.

"Michael, I was really hurt and angry that you didn't tell me the truth," I begin, making sure to leave no issue unaddressed. I wanted to be crystal clear in my message. "But, as usual, your over protectiveness came from a good place. And after calmly thinking it through, I'm sorry I said some of the things I said. It was sweet of you to be thinking of me. I understand you were looking for another option in hopes of not risking anyone's well being. I think it's extremely nice of you to take it upon yourself to be my own personal protector. I also think it's incredible that you're always thinking of protecting people; I don't think I can even begin to imagine what type of burden that might be. With that being said, Vincent..."

Vincent sits up from the sofa at the sound of his name and turns his attention towards me, draping himself over the sofa. He crosses his hands over the back of the sofa and rests his chin on his hands as he stares at me intently.

"You're not the bad boy you want to come off as," I muse aloud. "I think you want to use me as bait because it serves the greater good, and I think that's what you're trying to do here. If this Coronam you describe really is behind everything, and they succeed, I can't imagine how horrific things will get for all of humanity. Vincent, you're the kind of guy who thinks that the end justifies the means, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that kind of mindset. But...this time, I think you're right. I want to do it and we're in this together. As three...supers. We're united in this common cause. Just tell me what you need me to do and how this is going down."

"Well all right," Vincent says with a loud clap of his hands as he stands up from my sofa. He has a spring in his step that wasn't there before. He looks at me smugly and laughs. "And by the way, you don't know everything about me just because of one little heart-to-heart. I'm a deep and complicated person with many layers."

"Cut the crap Vincenzo," Michael advises sternly. It seems Michael is not happy with my decision. "You're an adult Liz, and rest assured, eventually, I would have told you about everything. I just think this was very premature. But what is done is done, and there is nothing that can change our current situation. If we're going to do this, we have to come up with a solid plan. Vincenzo, do you have anyone in your information network that could leak a rumor about who the keeper is?"

"Great idea, little brother," Vincent says as the drunkenness disappears from his appearance completely. "Gathering intelligence is always the first successful step in a well-designed plan. I see you remember my teachings well."

"Yes, indeed," Michael says with a warm smile, the first one of the entire evening. "I had a great teacher."

As I watch them, they really could have passed for family, even despite how completely different they are. Not just in looks, but in their personalities as well. There's a kinship between the two that is rare, almost nonexistent, I imagine. I begin to fantasize about all the things these two must have seen together in their extremely long lives. It must have been something truly incredible.

"So for now, we just need Izzy to stay put," Vincent explains with a cocky smile as he looks at me. "And I'm sure she'll have no problem with the dashing werewolf acting as her bodyguard for right now. Do you have any objections, Michael?"

Michael blushes a little before turning his face away to avoid me seeing his expression. I catch it, though.

"You'll find no quarrel from me here on this issue, brother," Michael answers Vincent while still looking away and avoiding me.

"I didn't think so," Vincent says with a chortle. "Alrighty then! Let daddy do all the work while you two kiddies sit here and make nice. Incidentally...Michael, there does come the matter of Izzy's family and friends. By now you should know how I work, and how I would want to handle this situation. Are you fine with that?"

"You know me," Michael answers with a small bite of his lips. He cracks his neck before turning to me. This issue appears to be a bothersome one. "It's not something I see anything wrong with, but it's not my family. It's Liz's family. She has to be the one that's fine with it."

"Fine with what?" I ask as I try to hide my irritation. "I'm right here you know. We're all in the same room; you shouldn't talk like that as if I can't hear you. What do my family and friends have to do with this?"

"Well, that's easy," Vincent says as he lowers his head and raises his eyes up to meet mine. "We're going to have to keep you under house arrest until we're done with this whole thing. I can't give you an accurate estimation of how long this will take, either. I have to treat this very delicately so the witches don't suspect a thing. And if I'm lucky, I can find out who is pulling their strings, or at least get a clue pointing us in the right direction. Point is, you're going to be missing for a while. People are going to notice. Your teachers, class mates, Jack, Roy. They have to be dealt with, and don't get all ballistic on me, either. I don't mean dealt with like a mobster would mean it. I meant charming all of them. That'll take at least a day, as I'll have to charm a lot of people, and I'll have to do it while no one else is around to avoid arousing suspicion. If I get caught charming someone, that means people that don't need to get charmed will end up getting charmed just because of what they saw. I'll have to make the witnesses forget, and blah blah blah, you get the picture."

"So when you charm someone, you can not only make them do things, you can also make them forget events?" I ask curiously.

"Yep, it's one of the most important vampire fundamentals," Vincent states proudly. "With my current expertise, I could pretty much make anyone think anything I want. I can even implant memories that never happened. Well, I can't do that to you, cheating keeper."

Vincent smiles before giggling softly to himself.

"Are you comfortable with this, Liz?" Michael asks, his face blanketed with concern.

I take a few moments to think about my answer. "Are there any risks to the people you're charming?" I ask as I sit down. "You're messing around with memories and implanting things into their heads, something is bound to get messed up in translation."

"No, they'll be fine," Vincent assures me soothingly. "Some younger vampires do screw up, but that's always rectified. The damage is never permanent, that's another thing the Coronam monitors. You'd be surprised as to how many young whelp vampires screw up basic charms. But me? I'm an old hand at this, I got it covered. Don't I, Michael?" Vincent looks at Michael with a grin on his face. Michael smiles and nods his head.

"For once, he's not just being arrogant," Michael backs him up. "He's really good at charming. It's really uncanny actually. I've never seen him fail."

"You see?" Vincent says as he inches his way closer to me, pretending to beg. "In truth, the only real problem with this plan is that I can't give a real timeline. And Michael is a real stickler for our plans being executed without even a second's worth of fault. Plus, the clock is ticking. We need to get on this immediately. It's obvious the witches know there's a keeper here, they're going to start looking if they haven't begun already."

"Yeah, and that means questioning the locals," Michael says with deep concern heavy on his voice. "If this is our plan, then we really need to hurry up. I can handle anything that might come our way. I doubt it will take you more than a day to charm everyone, will it?"

"Half a day, tops," he answers confidently. "And then step two? How do we make it so we can ensure Izzy's safety when the witches come to kidnap her?"

"I'll be watching the entire time," Michael says before gulping. "I must admit, I don't like this plan. But I'm starting to see the logic in both of your arguments. I suppose the decision is all yours at this point, Liz. Do you feel comfortable with this? Do you want to go through with it? Please don't feel pressured at all, we can find another way.."

I once again begin to pace and think of all the different scenarios and how this could turn really ugly. The worst of it is, this really sounded like the best plan. And if my sacrifice meant the town would be safe...well, that was a sacrifice I have no choice but to make.

"I'm ready, and I want to go through with the plan," I declare, trying to put on my bravest face.

"Very well," Michael says assertively, his presence filling the room with his authoritative impression. "Vincenzo, get to charming them, if you hurry you can finish by dawn. Leak it out on your information network who the keeper is, and I'll be watching and listening from a mile out. Remember the purpose of this mission is not only to stop and neutralize these rogue witches. The most important aspect of this operation is to find out who the witches are working for. Vincenzo, when all is said and done, make sure that you leave at least one witch tied and bound and very much alive. The witch will have much to answer for."

"Wait, wait," I say hesitantly. "I'm fine with all the rest of this, but how exactly are you going to stop and tie down a witch?"

"Thirteen witches, to be exact," Michael says, beating Vincent to it. Vincent looks at Michael with a playful sneer. Michael turns to Vincent and smiles. "You're not the only one that can gather information, you know. I also managed to find out the Russian man is the leader of the ring."

"Thirteen?" Vincent asks, showing a bit of concern. "A full coven? With a brujo leading the coven? This is some serious stuff."

"Yep, that's why I like to not be so reckless," Michael answers with a small sigh.

"Ok, once again, wait," I say, growing increasingly agitated. "What can witches do? What type of powers or abilities should I be watching out for?"

"You should lie down on the ground and not move a muscle," Vincent instructs. "They won't dare touch you, you're too important. If you want though, you can definitely watch as Michael and I kick some serious ass."

"I really hate witches, you know?" Michael muses with a shake of his head. "They were supposed to be helping nature, protecting it. And now, most of them are just either in league with those trying to destroy nature or are out only for themselves. It's a terrible thing they're doing to the balance...typical communication, Vincenzo?"

"Absolutely, I'll link all three of our minds," Vincent explains. "You however, will have to practice in dropping your guard and letting me in, Izzy. It's going to be hard to communicate with you because of your keeper status. You're really going to need to learn how to turn that off, at least with me."

"Yes and only at certain times," Michael points out. "This is a team effort, so we're going to have to act as one. Vincenzo's telepathy helps that aspect immensely. Even though you'll be on the ground trying to avoid trouble, Liz, you could still help us by alerting us to any new threats that might come out, if this is indeed a trap. If the Coronam is indeed behind this, we might even have to fight off a few bloodsuckers."

"Hey now," Vincent protests.

Michael shrugs his shoulders and holds his hands out to his side in a kidding gesture.

"Alright fine, I'm on board, seriously, totally, 100% on board," I announce without a doubt in my mind. "But when are we going to have a chance for Vincent to try to train me to drop my keeper's ability to block his vampire abilities out? We don't really have a lot of time."

"I can do it from a pretty good distance out," Vincent explains it in a way that makes it seem like this will be easy to do. "I'll give you some basic pointers here, and while I'm out and about during the day, I'll be trying to reach inside your mind to teach you. It won't be easy since I'm trying to do this gingerly and the brain is usually a very private thing. The instinctive reaction to me trying to read your thoughts will be for you to shut me out. It will be much harder for me to accomplish my task with you being a keeper and all. But I have to move slowly to not risk you losing any memories; that can happen when someone uses their telepathic gifts on you. If they don't know what they're doing, they can turn your brains to goo."

"Yes and that's why this is really important," Michael interjects. "You must only drop your defenses when you're sure it's safe to do so. And you must only drop your defenses for Vincenzo. And for the purposes of this mission only."

"I detect a little jealousy there, brother," Vincent says..

"Your intuition is spot-on as always," Michael answers immediately. "Speaking of that, I'm going to need Liz to drop something of hers to leave a trail. I'll be watching the entire time, but it's best to have a backup plan, and if possible a backup plan for that backup plan."

"God you're anal," Vincent says in a scoffing tone. "All right, let's go over the whole thing then, and let's make it fast. I've got a lot of stuff to do this morning."

"You can walk in daylight? Can all vampires do that? Is that another lie vampires created?" I ask, intrigued by this idea.

"There are a variety of ways a vampire can get around the daylight restriction," Vincent explains disinterestedly. "I'm just too old; the sun just isn't hot anymore. I can't even get a sunburn. Can we focus, please?"

After I apologize for taking the attention away from our main objective, we get down to refining our plan. All possible kinks are talked through, and Michael works out every worst-case scenario. Vincent wasn't lying when he said Michael was anal. Then again, I suppose if you're going to do something this important, there's no such thing as overly cautious.

For once though, there isn't any fighting between the two of them. But there is a problem that I am now facing.

I truly care about Michael. I could even go as far as to say that I'm falling in love with him. But there's also something about Vincent...something gritty, realistic...Michael has tried to baby me and protect me, and while I appreciate where the emotion is coming from, I don't appreciate the secrecy. He really hurt me.

I've never been the kind of person who believed in being with more than one guy at a time. Geez, I've never even had a boyfriend. But after Vincent's help, and seeing him tonight...acting like a boy and being so arrogant to the point that it was actually charming...I think I'm actually beginning to have feelings for Vincent.

And I have no idea what to do about that...

#  Chapter 10

The rest of that night doesn't seem real. It's almost as if I'm not in control of my body, I'm just watching myself go through the motions. It's all very...strange, but not in a bad way. It feels like something out of a movie.

I'm supposed to spend the night with Michael for my own protection. I decide I won't just let this time go to waste, so we start talking about his interests. Thankfully "maintaining the balance" isn't his primary hobby. When I get to know him better, I finally get through his tough guy exterior.

And speaking about something out of a movie, I learn that he doesn't like dramas; he says that life is sad enough as it is, so he prefers comedies. That's a huge surprise for me. I took him for an action junkie, I guess.

"So, what kind of movies do you like?" Michael asks as he takes a sip of soda. "You've been asking me about my favorites all this time, it's only fair that you share some of your favorites."

"I like a little of everything," I say with a small giggle. "I just really can't stand those artsy movies that take themselves way too seriously. You know, the ones where they try to make it seem like the idea behind the central plot is going to blow your mind away or whatever? I always look at these things and can never understand why they get the credit that they do. I guess I'm in the minority though, I mean, obviously I have to be. Those kinds of movies tend to make billions of dollars and reap in the rewards."

"No, I think I know the kind you mean," Michael says, still smiling warmly at me. His eyes are much different than Vincent's. They hold a bright...innocence to them. Despite all the horrors and pain that Michael must have had to endure, he hasn't let life bring him down. I really admire that about him. I return his smile as I stare at his handsome face. Although Michael and Vincent have been friends for such a long time, the two of them couldn't be any more different. I am refreshed to see that Michael isn't always gloom and doom, as Vincent had accused him of earlier. I guess Michael just really takes his role as a protector of the natural order very seriously. He's a classic workaholic. I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea, but with the right coercion, I could change him into being more into me, and less about the trees.

A selfish thought I suppose, but a girl can dream.

"So, is it just movies you like? I mean, other than saving the world occasionally, of course," I ask playfully as I put my head on his shoulder.

"No, there are a lot of other things I like to do," Michael says as he grips my shoulder tightly. His warm body's temperature courses through my own. "I really like to read, but then again, that comes with the job description. I used to be really into sports, but I couldn't keep up with it anymore."

"Because of your job?"

"No, not exactly," he says with a nervous laugh. His cheeks blush. "I just got really into it. As a werewolf, you could say we have to be really careful with our anger. It could cause us to phase into a wolf form accidentally. So you know...the umpire would make a call I didn't agree with, and well, the situation would get really hairy."

"Ooh, terrible pun!" I say with a loud laugh. "So you would totally wolf out over a baseball game?"

Michael laughs at the silliness of it as he moves my hair away from my face gently.

"Yeah," he replies. "It wasn't just baseball though. It was football, basketball, soccer, sometimes hockey. I wasn't really big into hockey, but football, basketball and baseball? Yeah, those were huge problems for me. I had to stop watching it altogether. I would phase randomly into a wolf form and tear up my house."

"You can't control your phasing or whatever?"

"Now I can, and I bet I could watch sports again," he answers as he touches his head to mine. "To be fair, I didn't know that could happen. No one ever told me. And it's not like Vincenzo had that knowledge, or would have reason to tell me 'don't watch sports, you'll throw a fit and turn into a wolf.' It was just a funny part of my life, I guess. It's fine though, sports suck now anyway. They're not what they used to be and I'm sure Vincenzo will agree with me on that."

"I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to you calling him that," I admit with a short laugh. "It sounds so...old. Or Italian. Which is odd because neither of you have any accent in your voice. And I know that you're both really ancient, but I still see two twenty-somethings when I look at the both of you."

"Yes, well," Michael replies slowly. "I've only ever known him as Vincenzo. We lived in a very different lifestyle back then. Now, everyone can track you. You have satellites that can tell where you are at any precise moment. Computers and social security numbers, driver's licenses. Back in my original time, we didn't have any of that. So, when people became suspicious of why I still looked so young, I would just move. I imagine Vincenzo had it even easier back in his original time. Not to mention, people died a lot younger back then, so few people would recognize or even remember him."

"And now? How do you avoid detection now? Especially with all those technologies you mentioned?"

"There are a lot of humans that are involved in the super community," he explains as he reaches for his cup again and takes a sip. "Vincenzo's network alone probably has several thousand humans working for him. Only he knows the vastness of his information network, but I know it's obscenely huge. I don't really have many people I can trust, as I can't charm them. And unfortunately, most people don't really care what you have to say after they hear you're a werewolf. I've tried to make friends, but they don't stick around if they find out my secret."

"I stuck around, didn't I?" I ask with a flirtatious smile.

"Yes, yes you did," he smiles before kissing the top of my head gently. "I just had to become adept at using computers and hacking things myself. As a matter of fact, one day, Vincenzo and I got so drunk that we just made a ridiculous bet to see who could hack into the Pentagon's black files the fastest. I won that contest, something I was pretty proud of. He was a real sore loser about that, now that I think about it."

"That sounds like the beginning to a joke," I chuckle as I think aloud. "So a vampire and a werewolf get drunk and..."

"Yes, it does," he shares in my laughter. "We don't have a lot of downtime, so when we do, we try to have fun. Vincenzo has been trying to take down the Coronam civilly for centuries and I'm always finding supers that aren't playing nice and dealing with them."

"You kill them, Michael?"

Michael exhales and cracks his neck. The subject being brought up made him obviously uncomfortable.

"Sometimes," he answers as he adjusts himself in his seat. "Sometimes they can be reasoned with. But sometimes the things I deal with just aren't alive; I have to send them over to the other side."

"What do you mean? Like ghosts?"

"Yes, like ghosts," Michael says softly. "Sometimes, when people die, they don't know that they're dead. They hang around their loved ones and friends. They try to act like life is normal, but soon, they discover that no one is responding to them. This almost always results in them trying to touch living humans. A ghost's touch is not a pleasant experience to share. Most humans just kind of jump in their seats or back away. This angers the ghost and eventually they try to make themselves heard and noticed. They start moving things, making things fall over, that sort of thing. That usually just scares the humans more. The ghost's frustration turns to anger and resentment...and you get the picture. But there are so many different kinds of spirits that just that particular category of super alone would take days to explain."

I nestle my head deeper into Michael's chest, trying to find a nice, warm spot. Resting on him is like lying on a heating pad. Feels really great, actually.

"So, is it ever dangerous to you?" I ask curiously. "I'd hate to think you could get hurt, but then you and Vincent pretty much claimed to be the most powerful duo on the planet. Is it true that silver is lethal to you? And what is phasing like? I want to know all there is to know about you, Michael."

Michael moves his head so that he can see my face. He smiles warmly as his eyes move back and forth between my eyes and lips. I want him to kiss me so badly...then he leans in and kisses my forehead.

A letdown, to say the least.

"I want you to know everything about me," Michael says with a gentle tone in his voice. "I want you to care about me, the real me. I want your feelings for me to be genuine, not because of the pheromones you exude because of being a keeper. I want to know everything about you. Truthfully, because of this current mission, I had to watch you for a while. I don't want to alarm you; it was just a part of the job. And I saw your kindness at the school and at your workplace. You have a good heart. You're a beautiful person."

"You were stalking me?" I ask lightheartedly as I hit his chest. "You should have introduced yourself sooner, then. We could have been doing this a lot earlier. You deprived me of this, and you owe me. You know that, right?"

"Yes milady," he says in what I assume to be an old accent. "I will have to just spend the rest of my days trying to make up for it."

"You'd better," I warn him as I bite his chest. Turns out he is really ticklish. He squirms under me as I take delight in continuing to see where else he could be ticklish. I stop shortly afterward, wanting to hear more of his story. "So, talk to me some more. I want to hear your voice, feel it as it comes out from your chest. What is phasing like? What else can you do? And do you just turn into a wolf? You said wolf _forms_ , didn't you?"

"Oh, so now I'm interesting, huh?" he asks with a soft tone as he begins to play with my hair. "Phasing is when I switch in and out of my wolf forms. I don't need a full moon or anything, that's just a myth. I can't turn into any other animal, but I do have a lot of variations on the wolf form. I learned them over time. Phasing was painful and lengthy at first, but now I can jump in and out of wolf form in less than a second, and the pain comes and goes so fast, I really don't feel it. I can phase into a regular-sized wolf that has increased strength. I like that form just for fun. I can run around and I make a game of finding other wolf packs."

"That's cute and sad at the same time," I say with a half smile. "Are you a lonely little puppy that needs a home? I can keep you company, you know."

I look at him and blink my eyes as I try my best to flirt. I'm not really good at it yet, but I'm getting there. Michael just smiles, chuckles a bit and continues talking.

"I also have my normal werewolf form, which is that of a very large, black wolf."

"How big are we talking about here?"

"I didn't know you wanted specifics," Michael says as he scratches his head and laughs again. "That was the first form I ever learned, and in that form I'm just a little taller than your average SUV, and a couple feet longer than it."

"Whoa, that's not large, that's huge!" I exclaim incredulously. "You've got to show me this stuff! This would be so cool, and it's way better than you stabbing yourself and showing me how fast you can heal. That's just not romantic at all."

I laugh and poke Michael in his side to get a rise out of him. He looks at me and again stares at my lips. I can tell he is fighting temptation. I want him to kiss me so bad, but I have to respect his wishes. Not to mention I want to know how much of an effect does my being a keeper have to do with the attraction I'm feeling towards him?

"I also have a hybrid form," Michael continues as if he's trying to distract himself from giving in. "I stand on two legs like a human, but I'm basically a wolf. I'm about nine feet tall there, probably weigh about two or three tons...most of my body is muscle, it has to be. If it weren't, my body wouldn't be able to sustain the transformations. So I tend to be very heavy. Even now in my human form I weigh three hundred and eight pounds."

"Geez, I knew you were buff, but that's a crazy amount of weight," I opine as I look at Michael's body closer. "You're tall and all, but I didn't think you weighed that much. Then again, muscle does weigh more than fat."

"Would you prefer me to have a beer belly instead?" he asks jokingly as he taps his stomach.

"Nah, I think we should keep you just the way you are," I reply with my eyes closed. "How tall are you, anyway?"

"I'm about six-seven or so, closer to six-eight"," he says as he stretches. "That's one of the major problems of being a werewolf, I suppose. You'd be surprised at how many men pick fights with me just to impress their friends. Buying a car is a hassle; none of them fit me comfortably. And let's not even talk about my clothes. I have a real hard time finding things that fit, and I'm buying them on a constant basis."

"I didn't take you for the fashion type"

"I'm not, it's my phasing," he corrects, the subject being something of obvious frustration for him. "Every time I phase, I destroy my clothing. It's not like I turn green and only my pants stay strapped on. I need new shoes, new watches, everything. I don't even wear jewelry anymore."

My eyes widen at the idea. "So after you phase back to a human, you're naked huh?" I try to flirt again. "That's pretty interesting. I'll have to keep that in mind. So, is your hybrid form your favorite one?"

"Each of the forms has their purpose," he says. He seems oblivious to my advances. "I use the hybrid the most because it's the most useful. I can run and climb and fight very well, if need be. I use my large wolf form mainly for running and covering ground, it's the fastest form I have. And if I'm really in trouble...there's my war form."

"Your war form? What's that?"

"It's not something I do often," Michael says, the melancholy hanging heavy on his voice. "It sort of sprang up from necessity one night, while in battle with a nest of vampires. I was being overwhelmed by their sheer numbers...and next thing I knew, I was going into a further, bulkier and much more powerful version of the hybrid form. For many reasons, I don't use it very much. It's a really massive form, so I'm slower. I wouldn't say I'm sluggish in the normal sense, I suppose, but it's definitely my slowest form. I think the war form just came up because of necessity. There were too many vampires; I probably wouldn't have made it without my war form."

"How many vampires were there?" I ask, sitting up. I'm as eager as a small child at this point. The whole story sounds just so amazing. "How big are you in that form? That must really be something."

Michael's face looks puzzled as he studies my expression. I suppose he finds it odd that I'm getting so excited about something like this. But all he does is smile as he continues his tale.

"I was naïve and ill informed," he admits. "It was a nest of vampires that were breaking the Coronam rules. They were starting to make the townspeople very suspicious. It was near the outskirts of Helena, Montana. You see, the Coronam govern the vampires, and to keep up the secret of their existence and the existence of all supers, they live by a code of conduct known as the 'veil'. The veil has hundreds of rules and laws to govern vampire society. As a matter of fact, the veil instructs all vampires to feed from blood banks or willing victims whenever possible. If that's impossible, you must charm the victim to forget the whole thing happened. This particular nest however, was killing dozens of people. Not wanting to bother Vincenzo for help as he was busy at the time, I did my own research. I estimated about forty or so vampires in that nest, but I was wrong. There were actually two nests that had merged into one."

He exhales and closes his eyes as he remembers the painful experience. "Vincenzo was overseas," he continues. "And I felt I could handle it. Judging by the amount of people that were being murdered, I could only guess that there were about forty or fifty vampires there. The attacks were being blamed on animal attacks, and they were ready to hunt out all the wolves and bears in that area. It wasn't the animals' fault; I had to act. But, like I said, I thought it was only one nest of vampires. It turned out that a second nest, from Seattle, had come to join them for whatever reason. Perhaps the two nest leaders were friends, or maybe they had plans to go against the Coronam. Whatever the case was, when I went in there, I was in a hurry to stop the attacks before more people got injured. Had I allowed the humans to scour the forest for bears and wolves, the vampires would have slaughtered them. I had no choice, so I threw myself into my hybrid form and began destroying vampires."

Michael's eyes stare off into the distance. This memory is definitely a traumatic one for him. With all his strength, Michael did not seem to like combat at all. He seems to actually have a serious distaste for it.

"After I killed what seemed like dozens, I noticed their numbers were only increasing," Michael says, his voice showing disbelief. "Worst of all, there was one vampire among them who was extremely ancient. He boasted to me as I was tiring in my struggle about having lived over six hundred years. He spoke to me about how many werewolves he'd killed, and that he'd savored every one of them, for werewolf blood was a delicacy...I don't know what happened, but as I got clawed in the back of the neck by one of them, I fell to my knees. I thought I was going to die. I refused to die at the hands of this villain. I had to stop him before more people got hurt. And then, I phased into my war form. I grew to about thirteen or fourteen feet in height, and I was at least eight or nine feet wide. I still can't even begin to imagine how much I weigh while in that form. But that form saved my life, and stopped the threat in Helena...I destroyed the entire nest. By the end of it all, I had slain ninety-six vampires that day."

"Michael that's incredible," I say as I hug him. He doesn't move or make a sound. He seems to be lost in his memory. "I know you said it's bulky, but if you're so big, you're like, indestructible, right? Why not just use that form all the time?"

Michael shakes his head quickly as if waking himself from a stupor.

"Like I said, the form is the slowest form I have," he explains calmly. "It's also extremely big, it makes me a bigger target. In that forest, during my fight with those vampires, I was knocking trees over left and right. Really old trees too. It's a very destructive form, and I'm a pacifist by nature. I try to avoid combat unless it's absolutely necessary. Thankfully, even though I become a huge and slower-moving target, I'm not sluggish by any means. In that form, my hide becomes much stronger. I don't know if indestructible is the word, not yet. I can say I haven't been hurt while in my war form every time I've resorted to using it. It's almost as if my skin becomes impervious to damage. Even the six-hundred-year-old vampire couldn't scratch me. I suppose I don't use it simply because I don't need to use it. My hybrid form is usually more than enough."

"Because they didn't have any silver?" I ask as I return back to my seat and hang on his every word.

"Silver doesn't hurt werewolves," Michael clarifies, "The only thing that can hurt me is other supers. Just like Vincenzo has to lower his healing ability to get drunk, I would consciously have to lower my healing ability to get injured by a knife wound or a bullet."

"It seems as if you really detest fighting, don't you?"

"As I said, I'm a pacifist by nature," Michael states softly as he turns to face me. "I never want to hurt anything. But...being a werewolf has a lot of drawbacks. I have to control my emotions, especially powerful ones. Like anger, or love...or lust..."

He turns away from me instantly as he regains control.

"While I'm in my wolf phases," Michael continues, "I can still think normally, as I do now. But the battle hunger, the blood lust, it calls to my instincts. It could turn me into a monster, the very thing I fight against. That's why there are still some rogue werewolves out there. In time, they will have to account for what they've done as well, however. If not by my hand, by someone else's. I believe in karma."

He turns back to face me with a smile. I can tell he's trying really hard to hide his regrets from me. If I only had the words to tell him he didn't have to hide anything from me...but I don't know what to say.

"So, you've told me about your father," I say, trying my best to steer the conversation in a different direction. "He sounded like he was a great man and a great father. You never told me about your mother, though. Are you fine with telling me a little about her?"

"Um, sure," Michael says with a quizzical tilt of his head. "There's not really much to tell, actually. She was a member of the tribe as well. My father could sense this and, according to him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He made it his life's goal to capture her heart. My mother didn't even know she was a member of the tribe, she never knew anything about the world behind the curtain until she met my father. They were poor; my father refused to keep the inheritance of our family. Instead, he gave all of it to the downtrodden. Italy was a very tough place to live in the 1400s. There were many beggars and widows who had no choice but to beg or prostitute for a day's bread...it was a very sad time in my life. And although my mother could have had an easier life had my father been a different sort of person, she never regretted his decision. At least, that's what he told me."

"You never asked her yourself?"

"I couldn't," Michael explains with cloudy eyes. "She died giving birth to me. It was the 1400s, and we were extremely poor. This sort of thing happened all the time; although the medicine was impressive given that it was such a long time ago, it was still pretty awful. My father was really destroyed by my mother's death, that much I could tell even as a small child. He never remarried; I'd dare say he never even considered it as an option. But he was very good to me, and he never once regretted his decision to help people. My father was laughed at by his neighbors for giving away all his money. They claimed that had he kept it, my mother would have lived. But we both knew differently. As I said, the medicine back then just wasn't what the medicine is now. And, I imagine, had my mother lived, my father would have never saved as many people as he did. Even though I wasn't a werewolf at the time, my father still took me on his trips to restore balance. He made it a point for me to know all I could so that one day I would be ready. I just never imagined that day would come so suddenly, and so early in my life."

He takes another sip from his cup and swallows his soda slowly. He leans back on the sofa and looks up at the ceiling.

"When a werewolf is chosen," Michael begins to explain, breaking the silence, "they receive all of the knowledge, power, and experience of their werewolf ancestors. The ones in the same bloodline; not all werewolves ever, of course. So, obviously, newer werewolves are almost like upgrades to the direct werewolf that came before him or her. My father had taken in a lot of information when he became a werewolf, and he knew he would have me and that I would turn out to be a werewolf someday. One of our ancestors was a psychic, at least that's what we concluded. And I get inklings and bad feelings over certain decisions sometimes; it's just not clear. When I get that feeling, it could mean stay away or it could be trying to tell me that's exactly what I needed. You would think after five hundred years I would have mastered that by now...but no, not yet."

"No inkling or feeling about me?" I ask as sweet and innocently as I can.

"An inkling about you?" He asks as he smiles mischievously at me. "As a matter of fact, I do. I just know that no matter what, you're going to bring me a lot of trouble."

I smile at him and he pulls the hair away from my face.

"There's good trouble, and there's bad trouble," I clarify. "Good trouble could be kind of fun. I might trouble you to buy me roses or take me out to a nice movie, or read me one of your favorite books."

"All of which I would do gladly," Michael says as he turns to me and begins to move slowly closer to my cheek, kissing it. He stays there, hesitating to continue. I'm frozen as well. While I do want him to finally kiss me, I don't know if now is the right time.

"Knock, knock," I hear Vincent's voice calling to me from outside my front door. "Is anyone home?"

"What excellent timing," I say loudly in frustration. "Come on in, Vincent, the door is open."

Vincent walks in proudly and sits down on the arm of my sofa. He has a white plastic bag in one hand, and a small notebook in the other. He hands the plastic bag to Michael and looks at me seductively.

"This one didn't bore you to sleep?" he asks smugly. "I'm surprised, Michael. You did good keeping this young little thing awake. You must be more interesting that I thought you to be. I'd hoped you would be asleep, Izzy. But regardless, I brought you a sandwich just in case. Michael, can you give her the smallest one in there?"

"That entire bag is full of sandwiches?" I ask as I notice the brand name on the plastic bag. "You went to that sub place and got all of that? What for?"

"One of the other disadvantages of being a werewolf," Michael says as he hands me a sub and begins unwrapping his. "I eat. A lot."

"He's not kidding," Vincent points out. "And often, too. It could be said that Michael is keeping many farms afloat in this rough economy."

Michael smirks and shakes his head at Vincent mockingly before taking another bite from his sandwich.

"We have some serious things to talk about, though, wolf boy," Vincent says with a serious expression. "Remember the ring? They're not going to sacrifice her; they're going to 'purify' her. As if a virgin can get any purer."

"I'm sorry, but what?" I ask as I unwrap my own sub. "What do you mean by purify?"

"I found out that the Coronam is, in fact, behind this," Vincent continues as he looks at Michael. "That's not even the worst part. Ready for the worst part?" Vincent stops talking and looks at both me and Michael as if he wants us to try to guess.

"Yes Vincenzo, can you please tell us now?" Michael asks with anxiety dominating his voice. "Or are we going to have to guess which one out of a million things it could be?"

"Oh no, my friend," Vincent retorts immediately. "This is a giant helping of suck salad. It turns out that this is the Coronam's doing because they do want to turn Izzy into a 'baby factory,' as she so innocently put it. But worse than that, something I didn't even know about, this is going to be their _second_ attempt at making a keeper that can mate more than once."

"What?!" Michael says as he stands up. "That's outrageous! So they _are_ trying to create an army after all."

"It would seem that only one vampire elder on the council has a keeper now," Vincent explains, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point. "The rest of the council is nervous about this and they all want a keeper now. This is some serious stuff. Now do ya see why I say all hell breaks loose when a keeper is born?"

Vincent looks at me sarcastically as his playful tone does little to ease Michael's concern. He switches his attention to Michael and crosses his arms in front of him. His expression turns to disappointment.

"No, no," Vincent begins. "None of that. We shall have no more brooding. We already talked about this. We have a plan; we're sticking with the plan. So, stop your moping, and I'm _not_ kidding."

"This changes a couple of things," Michael says as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Since the Coronam is definitely behind it, it's almost a guarantee there will be vampires watching the ritual. I haven't smelled any of them. That's not a surprise; the witches are probably masking their presence. But now, more than ever, we have to know the area in which they plan to do the ritual. We're going to be going up against thirteen angry witches. On top of that, we have an unknown amount of vampires overseeing the ritual in case any problems arise. I'm sure those vampires would consider us a problem."

"No doubt, my lupine friend," Vincent says as he heads to my kitchen. "Take the notebook I left on the arm of the sofa. It has everything you usually ask me for and then some. Will you be going for a stroll?"

"I have to," Michael replies with a sense of urgency to his voice I haven't heard before. "Did you charm everyone possibly linked to Liz?"

"I did you one better," I hear Vincent call out from inside the kitchen. "I charmed the entire town to stay home for the next few days. After of course making sure there was enough food for them to live on."

"I owe you one," Michael says as he stands up and walks to me. He grabs my upper arm and looks at me with sincere remorse on his face. "I'm sorry, but I really have to check out the lay of the land. I can't leave anything to chance."

Michael leans over and kisses me on the cheek before rushing towards the door, notebook in hand.

"Thanks again Vincenzo," he says quickly. "And seriously, I owe you one."

"Yeah yeah," Vincent says as he emerges from my kitchen with another bottle of wine. "You owe me about a million. Now do your wolf thing so we can get this going already. The ring is going to be real suspicious about what's going on in town. I might have charmed the town to stay indoors for a while, but I did that as a worst-case scenario type of deal. We need these witches to get to doing their little voodoo magic tonight, if possible. Otherwise, they'll catch wise as to why no one is walking around and all the businesses are closed; they'll split town."

"Indeed," Michael agrees in a hurried frenzy. "Liz, try to get some sleep."

Michael walks out the door and lets it close behind him. Everything happens so fast, I'm not even able to say a word, much less a farewell. Vincent turns his attention to me and eyes me seductively.

"So, did I interrupt anything?" he asks me with a smile before sipping some wine from the bottle. The bastard, he knew what was going on. "It seemed like things were getting hot and heavy there for a second."

"You're a real jerk, you know that?"

"Hey now," Vincent says as he makes his way to the sofa with me. "I'm just as much of a romantic as Michael is. Besides, I know how he works. When I learned all of that, I knew he would have an obsessive need to scout the area. We're really pressed for time here...I'm not as bad as you think I am, you know?"

"You're not?" I ask in pure shock. "How do you figure that?"

"Michael's right," he answers. "About wanting to make sure the love or lust you feel for one another is real. You see, according to the rules, you being a keeper, I'm supposed to be irresistibly attracted to you. So much so that I wouldn't be able to help myself. Not to insult you or anything, but I'm way too old to feel that level of need, for anything really. You both should cool off and evaluate your decisions when things quiet down. It really might just be your crazy keeper pheromones at work. Although I must admit, you really have to admire Michael's willpower. With his supreme senses and primal nature, I really thought I'd be coming home to Izzy 2.0."

"Izzy 2.0?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about an Izzy who has finally known the passions of the flesh," Vincent says arrogantly before taking a sip of his wine. "But you still being you gives me a chance to...taste the forbidden fruit, if you will."

He smiles at me. He really is gorgeous. I slap him anyway.

"You know, you really have to stop doing that," he says as he takes another sip. "I'm not the guy you and Michael think I am. Honestly."

"You're not?"

"No, really," Vincent says sincerely. I actually believe him. "I was in love once."

"Once in 1999, then again in 2000," I joke playfully with him.

But when I turn to face him, he isn't laughing. He isn't even smiling. His gaze is fixed far away, looking out one of my windows. I see his skin actually get goose bumps. He looks to his bottle with sadness overwhelming his visage.

"No, just the once," he says sadly as he takes another sip. He plays around with the wine inside the bottle, causing it to swish inside. "In my entire lifetime, all sixteen hundred years of my life, I have only ever loved a person once. She was a human, nothing supernatural about her at all. But she was my world. She was both my sun and moon..."

Vincent turns to me and licks his lips, rolling his tongue inside his cheek. His eyes begin to glisten as they start to water up.

"She was taken from me," he says as his tongue escapes his mouth. He bites down on it as a solitary tear rolls down from his right eye. "The Coronam figured I was making vampires look weak by consorting and honoring a human. They didn't care about how I felt, they didn't care that I wasn't bothering anyone with the love she and I shared. All they cared about was that I was making the young vampire council look weak. So they made an example out of me. Back then, I wasn't as powerful as I am now. And now, I can't destroy the Coronam with my strength or powers; it would destroy all of vampire society."

Speechless, I merely watch Vincent as he tries to slow down his breathing. He wipes away the tear from his cheek and looks down at my hands. He grabs them and holds them carefully.

"She was the reason I changed," he admits quietly. "I was never a cold-blooded murderer, but accidents did happen back then while feeding. I never was mentored in my vampiric gifts; I accidentally killed some just by feeding. My vampire gifts also came with an increased temper and I was quick to anger. She was never afraid of me, though. She was strong enough for the both of us. She made me believe in myself, that I could change. I haven't killed a human since her death, to honor her. Even if certain humans do deserve death...I've had a lifetime to learn humanity; it is more than capable of committing crueler deeds than any super. But there's nothing I can do about any of that now."

His eyes can no longer hold back his tears. He is so caught up in his memory he doesn't notice them, he just takes another drink from his bottle.

"That's why I want you and Michael to be absolutely sure about everything you do before you do it," he explains candidly as he looks me in the eyes again. He swallows hard before continuing. "There's an emptiness in my soul after the Coronam took her away from me. An emptiness that can never be filled. A thousand years have passed since her death, and I still miss her. She was my foundation and I would have died for her if the council had given me the option. They say that your heart aches from the loss of a love. I can't say much about that. All I can say is that there definitely is pain there. It's as if you aren't whole anymore. It's an emptiness I can't describe, try as I might. I just don't feel like myself. And even though so many centuries have passed, I still jump when I hear her name or think I see her. It's a hell of a thing, something I wouldn't wish on anyone, not even my worst enemy. Michael has never been with a woman, and you, you've never been with a man. I don't want either of you to get into something that could end up destroying either of you...especially now that the Coronam has been confirmed as being behind all of this."

"You're afraid that the Coronam will once again separate a couple?" I ask, trying to show as much sympathy as I can.

"I know they will," Vincent says as he leans back against the corner of the sofa and finishes the rest of the bottle. "They want Michael dead because he's a werewolf and my friend. And they want to kill me because they know I could overthrow the council if I wanted to. I don't care at all about the council, I just want to see them burn. Install a good and true government that will take care of my people. They will use your love to get to whoever you care about, Izzy."

He wipes away his tears and coughs before looking at me and placing the bottle on the nearby coffee table.

"Whether you end up falling in love with me or Michael," he says jokingly with a smile, "please never tell this story to Michael. I don't want him to be tarnished. He doesn't need to have any preconceived notions about love and the pain it can give you. I'd rather he only know the joys of love."

"Is that why you saved Michael?"

"Please promise me to never tell him?" Vincent asks me as his expression becomes more serious.

"I promise," I assert. "Is that why you want to destroy the Coronam? For her? Or because you really do want a better future for your people?"

"I care about my people because I met her," he answers softly. "So you could say it's solely because of her. If I had never met her, I would have never truly cared about how the Coronam exploits younger, unknowing vampires. The way that things are going now, everything is going to go to the dogs. No pun intended. But the council is corrupt and eventually many werewolves will be tasked with killing the council, maybe even the entire vampire race. Even if the werewolves were just tasked to remove the council, that will cause complete anarchy in our society. Someone has to lead the council; the council itself needs to exist."

"So why don't you lead it? You're surely the most suitable candidate for the position, right?"

"I don't ever want to associate with the Coronam in any manner," Vincent says as he tries his best to hide the hatred in his voice. "And you...you should get some sleep. You've been up all night and we don't know when Michael will be back. And when he comes back, we have to move on with our plan."

I nod my head slowly as I try to hide the pity I'm feeling for Vincent. I make myself comfortable in the other corner of the sofa. I notice Vincent isn't asleep, he's just laying there.

"I don't need to sleep," Vincent explains as if he's read my mind. "It's just another one of those things I can do if I feel like doing it, like eating human food."

"Hey Vincent," I ask softly as I nod my head in acknowledgment. "That woman, she sounds like she was incredible. What was her name?"

"Her name was Isabella," he says quietly before turning towards me. "But I always called her Izzy."

#  Chapter 11

I stare at Vincent with complete disbelief. I feel my face go flush as my mind reels at all the implications his statement made. Has Vincent made me out to be a replacement for the one woman he's ever loved? Imagine: this man has lived for almost sixteen hundred years, yet only one woman has ever held his heart. Was it mere coincidence? The fact that I'm a keeper, our mutual attraction, and the fact that one of my nicknames is Izzy...

How had he known to call me Izzy? Had he charmed my friends, Jack or possibly Roy? Or is he calling me Izzy because I reminded him of her? Is there even more I'm not considering? I thought I'd seen enough to be ready for anything, but these last few days have made me truly realize how ignorant I am.

Until recently, a small part of me still felt that the events surrounding my mother's disappearance could have actually been sensationalized by my mind. Not a large part, but I was open to the idea that maybe I was compensating for something. However, now I have learned about the world behind the curtain. This world in which everything is possible. Now, more than ever, I am convinced something supernatural had taken my mother. But for what reason?

Even worse, now I find myself caught in the beginning of a love triangle. Vincent proved to be charming and carefree. He had a laid-back demeanor and never made a hassle out of anything. Surely his long life had affected this world view of his; nothing was ever new to him.

But then there was Michael. He had never known love, and was so desperate for his love for me to be true, that he constantly fought off temptation. Michael's werewolf tendencies for passion and primal instincts were kept in check by his iron will, even against our very natures. He wanted the love to be real. I wanted the same.

The thing was, Michael is a really good guy. He is loyal and honest, even to a fault. He has his shortcomings, as everyone else does. But he is so consistently concerned about the wellbeing of the world and the balance, I can't help but feel more than a little neglected. Vincent had none of these concerns.

But Vincent is arrogant. Even worse, his age and experience makes me wonder how much of what he told me is true. I'm completely frazzled. I truly wish that Vincent had never entered my life. Had he remained wherever he was, I wouldn't be stuck with such self doubt. I truly care for Michael. But he is nowhere near as flexible as Vincent. Yet Vincent is perhaps too flexible...

Why me?

"Izzy?" Vincent's voice wakes me from my inner thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I lie. "I guess I'm just nervous, is all. May I ask you why—or maybe I should ask how—did you come to call me Izzy? Doesn't it hurt you to call me that? You mentioned her very name made you jump...why would you subject yourself to that willingly?"

He faces me and narrows his eyes. Tears are welling up in his eyes again. He studies the sofa cushion as he speaks.

"I don't know why you would say such a thing," he says softly, the hesitation deep in his voice. "I guess it's just an old habit. Don't think much of it. I obviously spoke out of turn. I overstepped my bounds. I'm sorry."

"No, really," I say, almost pleading. "I want to know more about Isabella."

Vincent leans his head back and licks his lips. He closes his eyes and sighs. The mention of her really changes Vincent's demeanor. Either he's the greatest actor alive or he truly loves this woman as much as he says he did.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he admits and ends that line of discussion. "We both need to have our heads screwed on straight. Go to sleep, please. When Michael returns, he and I will have to leave immediately. When that happens, we'll both have to trust the wolf man to oversee your protection."

"Why is that? Are you abandoning me?"

"Abandoning you?" Vincent replies sharply, insulted at my insinuation. I'm really just asking, but he seems truly offended. "I would never abandon you or Michael. The answer is simple. I cannot be seen or sensed by these vampires. They're being cloaked by this ring of witches. I don't have that advantage; seems pretty unfair, doesn't it? Needless to say, I'm quite a celebrity in the vampire world...you might even say there's a course on me at the vampire academy. I hold the majority of the academics taught in Vampirism 101; not by choice of course. It's just I need to be vilified, and thus they indoctrinate all fledglings into hating me. I would be recognized immediately."

"But what about Michael?" I ask with my concern rising at the severity of the situation. "Is he going to have to take on thirteen witches and who knows how many vampires? I know he's powerful, but can he really do that?"

"You really need to stop worrying," Vincent says with a smile as he finally faces me again. "Tonight, you'll get a front row seat at how powerful wolf boy is. My job is to pick up any straggler vampires that try to escape or communicate with the Coronam. If the Coronam sends a detachment here, then we're in big trouble. And I'm being really serious here, despite my usual sarcastic wit."

I believe him. His words, while still having their usual sharpness and condescending tone, sound very sincere.

"What if they come?"

"If they come, Izzy," Vincent says, his voice trailing, "there will definitely be casualties. And with the commotion we'll cause, the entire existence of supers might be revealed. If that happens...well, let's just say we'll be in several wars. There are hundreds of supers that don't want to be revealed as fact, they wanna remain a myth. There are supers that are envious of vampires because we can blend in with the human population. And everyone pretty much hates the werewolves, the wardens of our world, if you will. If the Coronam come, Michael and I will be forced to fight them with all our power. There won't be a single news network that won't be broadcasting the mayhem. We'll be revealed to the world...and while some supers couldn't care less, most want their existence to remain a secret. So, chronologically speaking, Coronam comes, Michael and I fight them. A lot of stuff gets torn asunder, explosions, a lot of death and destruction...people see it, either in person or on the boob tube, they realize that humans aren't really the dominant species and the world goes to crap. The supers will fight each other in a civil war for supremacy, and then who knows what happens when all of humanity knows that none of these things were ever legends to begin with."

"That sounds...incredibly horrible," I say slowly as I wince at all the devastation I can imagine happening.

"Luckily, most of the supers will blame the vampire community," Vincent says whimsically. "I feel bad for the young vampires, the ones that don't know any better. But the older ones? Yeah, they can ash for all I care."

"You won't feel bad that the majority of your race will become extinct?"

"I might be a vampire, but that doesn't mean that I agree with everything the vampires have done in the last thousand years," Vincent explains casually as he pushes his hair away from his eye. "When I was reborn as a vampire, we respected the land and our food, at least at first. We knew we couldn't feed too often or kill humans. They were our livestock, as horrible as that sounds. But now? With the Coronam in control, they designed something they call the veil, or as it was originally called, magnum mendacium, 'the great lie.' The great lie states that all vampires must act in accordance with the laws in the magnum mendacium charter or risk the wrath of the Coronam. The Coronam might enforce the magnum mendacium, but they themselves are violating its very essence. It was meant to keep vampires as a topic of fiction. Now, more and more, you got these geeks and freaks dressing up as vampire wannabes and goths with pale make-up, drinking tomato juice from a $3 goblet that is supposed to be believably expensive. Please...the fact is, the Coronam is risking exposing all of vampire kind to the world with their ambitious goals. If they expose vampires, they expose all supers, and if they expose all supers..."

"Then the entire world will be turned upside down," I say as I realize how truly horrible the situation is. "The supers will fight one another and humanity will never be able to trust another human being ever again, no one will know who really is human."

"Eh," Vincent grunts with apathy. "If that ends up happening, I have a plan too. I just hope I never have to use it. Michael, on the other hand...he would really have his hands full. Which consequently means I would have my hands full helping the poor dope. I really am a sap."

I look at Vincent and stop myself before I continue to prattle on. The implications were only becoming more dangerous as I learned more about our true situation. This was no longer a matter of my life, or even of the lives of the people in the town. What Vincent was explaining was a full out war, a civil war between supers. This could be disastrous. All I can do is believe in Vincent and Michael, and hope that the Coronam doesn't get word from the vampire spies that are hanging around town. But then, another thought enters my mind..

"Vincent," I begin slowly. "If you do manage to kill all the vampires before the word returns to the Coronam, wouldn't they just send more people to investigate what happened to the first team?"

"Oh that," he says, almost sounding bored. "I'm afraid Michael will have to take the blame for this whole thing. It's one thing if a werewolf kills a vampire, that's normal. Werewolves are almost the police officers, well, now that I think about it, I guess they _are_ the police officers of the super community. But if word got out that a vampire killed a group of vampires, an example would have to be made. And they'd send out everything they could muster to make an example out of me. A lesson to be learned by young and old vampire alike. The lesson being, of course, to never turn on your own kind."

"And Michael knows about all this?" I ask now, more mortified than ever. It was bad enough that the two of them were risking their lives for me, but now, Michael would be marked for life? "Wouldn't that make almost every vampire come after Michael?"

"In all honesty?" Vincent examines me briefly before answering. "He's been at the top of the vampire hit list for centuries. It comes and it goes. They'll send a vampire hit squad after him for a couple months straight and then just forget about it, or give up. Whatever the case is, he's used to it and no matter how we handle this, the attacks on Michael won't stop. Vampires aren't the only supers who continuously try to kill werewolves. But, hey, seriously, get to bed already. You need rest, and there's a movie on TV that I haven't seen in, like, ten years or so. We'll make sure to wake you as soon as it's time to get going with our plan. You can trust us. You're in good hands."

I shake my head. I'm more than a little tired. Sleep sounds good right now. I stretch my feet on the sofa and let myself relax. Before I even notice, I'm dead to the world.

I feel like I've been asleep maybe ten minutes when I overhear Michael and Vincent talking.

"I know how you feel about her, Vincenzo," I hear Michael's voice from the kitchen. "You want her; I can see how you watch her. You look at her seductively and there's a fire in your eyes. You would have her as a prize, just another prey for you to hunt."

"Is that what your super wolf eyes tell you?" Vincent responds dryly, his typical sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Can they see inside my chest to witness the erratic motion stirring in my heart? Oh, no, they can't. There is no heart there to be seen. Then it must be your super wolf hearing, or your smell. It must be something; the great Michael is never wrong."

"I love her, Vincenzo," Michael explains plainly. "What you want is purely sexual. Would you betray your oldest friend for mere lust?"

"No, I would never betray anyone for lust," Vincent replies, his voice calming down. "Least of all, I would never betray you."

"Then stay away from Liz," Michael almost commands.

"You mean Izzy?" Vincent says with a slight chuckle. "I don't think I can. I think she needs me. I think you need me. And if I'm right, and I almost always am, the only way the three of us are going to make it out of this alive is by helping one another."

"I would give my life for Liz," Michael asserts with a powerful, steady voice. "I'm in love with her. Stop playing your games, they undermine your status."

"You know the one thing about being ancient?" Vincent asks with a laugh. I hear him begin to walk around my kitchen. "Come on, you know me best. Nothing clouds my judgment. In your centuries of life, have you ever, even once, seen me enter the blood lust? Have you ever seen me hesitate, even if for just a moment, over a human's wound?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Blood is the most potent drug in existence for the vampire," Vincent explains calmly. "If that which is most intoxicating for my kind does nothing to me, do you really think that a keeper's pheromones would do a thing to me? I am ancient, I cannot be fooled or duped by their power. My senses, my heart, and my head, they can't be blurred by their attraction. Can you say the same for yourself? Can you with your strict code of honesty and honor swear to me that you are 100% sure that her pheromones are not having an effect on you, wolf pup?"

I hear Michael lean on my kitchen counter and sigh deeply. Judging by the noise of bones cracking, I imagine Michael has just cracked his neck, as he tends to do.

"No, you're right," Michael finally concedes. "Then why? Why so much interest in a girl you don't even know? You've never hurt me like this before."

"Am I hurting you now?" Vincent asks with a playful tone. "If I was, I was truly unaware. It was never my intention to hurt you. I came for the ring. Meeting Izzy was just a very serendipitous coincidence. But why are _you_ here?"

"You know why I'm here," Michael answers immediately. "I'm here for the ring as well. I met Liz by pure coincidence."

"Even my massive information network couldn't find Izzy," Vincent continues. "I'm to believe you stumbled on her by accident? You had no way of knowing what the ring truly represented. Witches were meant to be keepers of the balance as well; you wouldn't have felt their disturbance. I can only conclude you came because you stalked the scent of the keeper down."

"Is that what you think? I came here following the Russian brujo. And you're right, I didn't know how great of a tragedy this ring represented."

"Why follow a lone brujo all the way here? From Russia, no less?" Vincent asks. His tone suggests a subtle pry.

"I know this man," Michael explains. "I've been keeping tabs on him for decades. It was only late last year I found out about his brujo nature. I suspected him of just being a normal, run-of-the-mill witch. But you said so yourself, as agents of the balance, we are invisible to one another."

"Then I can only deduce that you came here for Izzy," Vincent says lightly. "It's like I thought. You sniffed her out and then found her here. Knowing you, you probably watched her silently, hidden from view for months, maybe longer. Then you finally made your move. Does that sound about right, brother?"

Another awkward silence. Once again, I hear Michael sigh deeply.

"What game are you playing at, Vincenzo?"

"No game," he answers bluntly. "For once, you will just have to believe me when I say that I want no harm to come to you or Izzy. I am here simply because the world will crash and burn if the Coronam succeeds. As I said, meeting Izzy was just a very pleasant side effect of my original intention. I am, however, concerned that you're behaving this way. You've never treated me like this before. You're sizing me up as if I were your enemy. Perhaps the keeper's magic has managed to work faster on you than most?"

"Silence your voice," Michael orders in irritation. "I would hear no more of this."

"It all makes sense, actually," Vincent muses to himself. "Your senses being so acute, the greatest of all the supers...you fell for her magic faster than any other super possibly could. Her pheromones would overpower you before you could even detect them. After all, your sense of smell is the greatest on the planet...yes, I think that makes the most sense. Pardon the play on words."

I hear a brief step and a thud but am too afraid to look.

"And now you lay your hands on me?" Vincent asks nonchalantly. "What would you do, brother? Erase more than half a millennium of friendship for a woman?"

The house is once again flooded with awkward silence. I hear Vincent's feet touch the floor gently. I'm relieved to know the situation has subsided without my interference. Actually, my butting in would have only made things worse.

"You're right," Michael says. His voice is pained with regret and remorse. Yet his voice hides a much deeper secret. I feel his shame. "Liz has gotten to me. I don't know what to do. She's all I think about. When I see her with you, I...I don't know... I'm jealous. I know in my mind, it's her keeper's physiology...but I can't control my instincts. They act of their own accord. What do I do, brother?"

"We'll work it out," Vincent announces softly as I hear a pat on the back. "But we have to work it out together."

"You have my word," Michael promises with conviction "We'll get through this together. No more infighting. No more petty jealousy. I'll use every ounce of my willpower to hold back these feelings of anger and betrayal. It'll never be an issue again."

"Great," Vincent says as I hear one of the cupboards opening. "Now that you promised not to put your hands on me again, maybe there _is_ something I should tell you. You brought it up, after all. And far be it for me not to answer your question. I do want Izzy. But not in the way you think. For you see, I'm in love with her as well."

I hear nothing for what seems like an eternity. For several moments I doubt they're even still in my house. My heart beats as if thunder is pounding the same spot on earth.

"Michael, it was never my intention to 'steal' her from you," Vincent says calmly. His voice is a welcome addition to the nerve-racking silence. "You mentioned you would die for her. Guess what? So would I. But the difference between us, brother, goes far beyond our species. For you see, I would die for you as well as Izzy. I would risk everything and lose everything, just to ensure your safety. Could you say the same for me? I promise not to get involved with your courting Izzy. She isn't some piece of commerce to be bartered over. She should be allowed to choose for herself. And if she does choose you, I would hope that at least you would make me the child's godfather."

Vincent chuckles jovially, but Michael says nothing.

"I could spend the rest of eternity watching your family," Vincent continues. "I could watch you and Izzy raise your child, even watch that child grow. And all I would feel would be happiness for you and her. But let that be _her_ choice, not yours, not mine."

"Agreed," Michael says with a sigh of relief. "I hope you can forgive my recent behavior. So, what do you say? Shall we go save the world?"

"Again?" Vincent asks in frustration. "I need to get a PR agent, this is total BS. I save the world time and time again, but do I ever get any credit? Nope, not a shred. If there was a 'Super's Herald' or something like that, it would all be about you. Me? I would just get the 'sneaking about in the night sucking helpless virgins dry' part of the newspaper. It's completely unfair. I really do need a publicist."

"Well, if there was a newspaper for all things super," Michael retorts playfully, "they would obviously know I'm the good guy."

"Not to cows you're not," Vincent answers. "Can't you pick a different animal? I mean, seriously, man, you're bringing the cattle population close to extinction. Anyhoo, should we let Izzy know that we know she's awake?"

"Yes, now does seem to be a good time," Michael agrees. "At least we were able to handle our personal affairs."

"How did you—" I cut my own question short in shock as I sit up from the sofa.

"It's your heart rate," Vincent explains. "It changed. And if I could sense it, then Michael could tell from two states away. It would appear, however, that our secret is out of the bag. Would you look at that, Michael? Here we are, with the veil, the great lie in place. Yet this one manages to uncover our greatest secrets in a span of a day and a half."

"It wasn't a secret, smart ass," I answer harshly. "I might not have much experience in love, but you two stare at me like lovesick puppies. And besides, whatever gave both of you the idea that I was interested in either of you?"

"Yeah, right," Michael says sarcastically. "Even I'm not that naïve."

"Hey, wait a second, the whole sarcastic angle, that's my shtick," Vincent says as he pretends to be hurt.

"Jeez, would you two take something seriously for once?" I ask in frustration. "This could be total Armageddon, you know?"

"Well then arm-a-geddin out of here!" Vincent declares with a laugh. The room grows quiet and an orchestra of crickets chirping would have fit in perfectly here.

"That was awful," Michael says as he punches Vincent on the arm.

"Yeah well, it was funny to me," he says with a smile. "You two wouldn't know comedy if it slapped you in the face. Did you sleep well, princess? Are you ready to go?"

"About as ready as I'll ever be I guess," I admit. "What do I have to do?"

"I'm going to be following you from a distance, atop the trees," Michael begins to brief us all. "Vincenzo will be out of town until I tell him I need him. At that point, he'll come running and we destroy the witches and any vampires that appear."

"Wait," Vincent interrupts. "You forgot to mention we have to keep one of the vampires alive for brutal torture and interrogation."

"Yeah, you're right," Michael admits. "We'll keep one of the witches and one of the vampires alive. We'll see what the Coronam told the witches, and we'll see what the Coronam told the vampire lackeys that got the misfortune of being given this task."

"Much better," Vincent says with a nod of his head. "Carry on then, General."

"That's pretty much it," Michael says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Liz, it's imperative that you don't move while Vincenzo and I are fighting. It's for your safety as well as ours."

"Wait a second," I interrupt. "I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but please keep this in mind. I might be a super or whatever, but I just found this out. I have no idea what you guys are capable of, what they're capable of, or anything actually. How is Vincent going to run back into town on time? And for that matter, how are you going to signal him? And why can't I move? What if someone is attacking me or something? How strict are we talking here about not moving? What if I have to sneeze or cough or scratch an itch? I mean, what am I preparing for here?"

"You want to field this one?" Michael says as he looks at Vincent.

"Sure, I guess," Vincent says with a lackadaisical look on his face. "It's a lot to explain, and we really don't have the time, so I'll just condense it to the key points. I'll be communicating with both you and Michael via telepathy. I can't be in town when the ritual takes place because the other vampires will sense me, but when I get the cue from wolf boy over here, I'll come here full sprint. I'm _really_ fast. Hmm...what else did you ask? Oh, yeah. Witches. They can cast all sorts of spells. They can move the earth, shoot fire, and bind a person in place. I mean, really, they can do all sorts of things. Far too many to be able to make a list right now. As to the reason why you can't move, well, that's a little dark. When supers of our class fight, we fight at speeds that can't be tracked. We don't even truly know how fast we are. We've tried everything from radar guns to stop motion photography; nothing can pick us up. All you'll see around you are blurs and afterimages. Except, of course, when the bodies begin to hit the ground. The reason we don't want you to move is because if you do, you might get hit by one of us accidentally. What is a second for you feels like hours for us while we're moving at such speeds. So if your arm isn't there when I go to strike, and then you move it a nanosecond later, I just passed by and ripped it off. Do you understand now why that might be less than pleasant?"

Vincent looks over at Michael and catches a disapproving look from him. Michael shakes his head. Vincent mouths silently "what?" but is ignored.

"Afterimages?" I say as the idea strikes me cold. "Something so fast that I can't even track it with my eye?"

"It's a lot to absorb, but we're in more control than Vincenzo is implying when we move at those speeds," Michael says as he catches my attention. "Go ahead Vincenzo, do what you have to do, and get her started. It's almost nightfall."

Vincent walks forward and exhales softly as he stares at me with those deep blue eyes of his.

"I need you to relax, okay?" he explains soothingly. He places both of his arms on my shoulders and begins rubbing me softly. "Think about a happy memory, or a place that brings you peace. It could even be a person. I need you to let me enter your mind. You're well rested, you can do this."

I breathe in and out deeply as instructed. I continue to follow Vincent's instructions as best I can. Eventually, I'm at peace and feel a warm soothing wave wash over me.

"Now, this is what I'm going to do," Vincent continues in a soft voice. "I'm going to place my right hand on top of your forehead. I'm going to link us together so that when I speak to your mind—only if you let me of course—I don't cause you any discomfort."

Vincent places his hand as he described. In an instant I'm fed images of Vincent's life. I also feel his overwhelming loneliness. But then, just for a brief moment, I see a woman dressed in seriously old attire. She looks like...me. Before I know it, I'm back in the living room. The first thing I see is Vincent's beautiful blue eyes.

"Are you all right?" Vincent asks, concerned. Michael is near him. "It's a little intense at first, but I had to rush things a little. You now have a piece of Michael and I inside of you. Our memories and our past experiences. Just a fraction, mind you. The entirety of that would have killed you."

"You gave me some of Michael's memories as well?" I ask in total confusion. "I thought I was only looking at your life."

"No, it doesn't work that way," Vincent explains. "Every vampire evolves as he grows older, as you know. But the gifts they receive are all different, therefore, they evolve and upgrade differently. I have only done this merging once, with Michael, before you. It's something I only learned about six hundred years ago. Later on, Michael and I discovered we were pretty much linked eternally. It's something that sometimes comes and goes; the visions, I mean. When Michael is in great distress, I see it and feel it. But it's incredibly useful. I can speak to him whenever I need to, no matter how far away. Now I can do that with you as well. If it weren't for this unique gift of mine, I would literally have to dominate the person and enter their mind against their will. A very painful and traumatizing experience. So, did you see anything interesting while you were scouring our minds?"

Vincent smiles as he leans on Michael's shoulder. Michael's expression is much more serious. He seems to be curious as to what I saw.

"I saw a baby being cradled out of a burning building," I say, trying to piece together everything I saw. "But the person jumped out of the window and onto the roof of a nearby building."

"That was me," Michael says, his eyes narrowing. "It was Chicago...early 1920s, I believe."

"Yeah, I remember that story," Vincent recalls. "After you turned the baby over, the police tried to beat you to death and arrest you."

"They thought I was a monster," Michael explains. "Anything else? You'll feel a close bond with the person of the memories that stuck out to you."

I hesitate as I remember the woman that looked very similar to me in a very old dress. Was that Isabella? Going by what Michael said, I might have just been sharing equal amounts of memories from both of them...does that mean that I'm unsure of my love for Michael? Could it be possible that I have feelings for Vincent? Perhaps even love him? How did I go from never having a boyfriend to possibly being in love with two so very different men? One a werewolf and the other a vampire nonetheless...

"A lot of scrambled images," I say, not sure whether to mention the woman in the dress. "I saw a very old memory; it could only have been yours, Vincent."

Vincent's carefree demeanor changes immediately as he stares me down.

"If you don't feel up to speaking about it, I understand," Vincent says. "I'm impressed, to be sure. You just took in over two thousand years worth of information in less than a minute. Although you didn't absorb all of our memories, it's still extremely impressive."

"I guess," I say as I realize that the possibility of mentioning Isabella made Vincent extremely uncomfortable. "Shall we be off, then?"

I really want to ask Vincent about the resemblance between that woman and me. She _had_ to be Isabella, I figure. The thoughts of her were heavy in Vincent's mind. And what of Michael? His memories were filled with pain and a life that truly was unfair. He had known nothing but loss and hardship...I want to let them both know that they could talk to me whenever they wanted. I want them to know they have a shoulder to cry on. But I can't say it now. Not in front of the both of them. But someday, definitely.

But is that in my best interest? Michael mentioned that a bond was formed when memories were shared. Would they feel comfortable knowing that I absorbed so many memories from them both? For some reason, I'm almost positive that the amount of information I had just received was more than Vincent had intended for me to receive. This was confirmed especially when I saw the look on Vincent's face. It appeared he had wanted to hide any and every piece of thought of Isabella.

"Let's go then, it's nightfall in a couple of minutes," Michael says, yanking me from my daze. "Are you sure you're up to this? We can find another way."

"No, we can't," Vincent argues. "I don't want her to be harmed either. But if we go over there looking for them, they'll escape. This is the only way. Besides it's her choice."

I breathe in deeply before exhaling and walk to the front door.

"My decision has been made," I say, feigning confidence. My doubts, fears and suspicions would have to be resolved at a later time. Assuming there was a later time, of course.

"Very well," Michael says as he opens my front door and steps out. "I'll see you as soon as this is through. For everyone's sake, let's hope this goes well."

With supernatural strength, I notice Michael jump up and land atop a nearby tree. Then I see several trees buckle under his weight before his path completely disappears from me. Vincent looks at me, eyes softened.

"You're going to be fine; you'll do great," Vincent says as he grabs my arm. "At least, that's what Michael would say. I just want you to not screw up, understand? But...seriously, you can do this. We won't let anything happen to you; that's a promise."

He smiles at me before he steps out and heads to the east. I assume he's running out of the city limits.

Although I haven't known them very long and I have very few friends, their absence makes me feel lonelier than ever. I walk out of my home and lock the door behind me. I look around at the town. True to Vincent's statement, no one is outdoors.

I've never been so alone. Thoughts of terror and anxiety grip me. Yet I try to remember Michael's soft embrace. His kiss on my cheek...his jade eyes and powerful yet gentle hug...I have to do this..

I keep walking until I make it to the town square. It's a ghost town for sure. I turn to the deli in hopes of getting a soda from the machine outside. Instead, I see a lone figure, a man with grey hair and a receding hairline. He has a large gold talisman draped over the center of his chest. His blue, steely eyes pierce my soul. He's terrifying, but I have no idea why. Had I passed this man on the street, I wouldn't have even thought twice. But I know who this man must be.

He has to be the Russian.

"What is a pretty little thing like you doing out here?" he asks with a heavy Russian accent. "Don't you have better things to do on such a night? It's late, and a school night, I believe. Do all keepers act like you? So brazen and insufferable? Do you have any idea of how long we've been looking for you?"

"I'm sorry sir," I say, trembling. I have to sell this if the plan is going to succeed. "I'll give you all the money I have, just please don't hurt me. I just wanted to get something from the deli."

The man furrows his brow as he examines me. He begins to walk closer to me as I hear Michael's voice inside my mind.

"I'm with you," I hear Michael's soothing words steel my nerves. "He won't be able to harm you. You're doing very well, just keep acting scared."

"Who's acting?" I think back to him jokingly.

"Stay serious," Michael replies. "I see Vincent's influence in you already. Now is not the time for joking."

"He's right," I now hear Vincent's voice chime in.. "Just go along with whatever this geezer wants."

I fumble around in my purse and pull out a wad of money and extend my arm to the Russian.

"Here, please, take it!" I plead. "It's all I have! Please, don't hurt me!"

"Could it be possible you don't know what you are?" the Russian thinks aloud as he fingers his beard in a clearly contemplative stance. "No matter..."

The Russian sweeps his hand over the air as if drawing a symbol in the air. I feel my body tighten up and then fall. I look down and there are vines holding down my entire body.

"What are you going to do to me?!" I ask, trying to emit panic to my voice.

"You will see soon enough," he answers me as I begin floating in the air. The vines have me suspended and are following the Russian's footsteps.

I look at him closely and think back to Vincent's backup plan of leaving a trace of me behind, just in case. I slide my hand in my purse and take out a pack of breath mints. Little by little, I let loose a breath mint every time I notice a sharp turn or a tricky part of the path coming up. It seemed like an eternity, but we finally wind up in the middle of the forest, and I see twelve other people, the rest of the ring no doubt. There's a circular design on the ground, cut into the dirt. Overlapping the circle, also cut into the ground, is a square. The vines drop me into the center of the circle and disappear.

"So this is the keeper?" I hear an unknown voice ask the Russian. "Are you sure this is the one, master brujo?"

"Absolutely," the brujo answers. "She couldn't have made it any easier. I don't think she even knows she's a keeper."

"That wouldn't be rare at all," a slender female says as she approaches the brujo. Her eyes are golden; they look like topaz. Too gold to be natural. She must be a super; a vampire no doubt. "One of the reasons they're such trouble to find. They themselves don't know their own potential for greatness."

She smiles as she looks down at me and enters the circle, kneeling down near my head.

"But that's fine," she assures, still smiling. "I'm here to make sure you do reach your full potential. You're going to be the start of something magnificent."

I try to struggle myself up, but I can't move. The vampire woman notices.

"Try as you might Elizabeth, this circle is designed to hold you," she explains. "It'll make things much easier if you just let us do we came to do. Fair? You may call me Valerie, and I do want us to be the best of friends."

Her words are soft, but I realize she's full of deceit. She hates me secretly, I can tell. I refuse to say anything. I only hope that I won't die here like this, on the ground, surrounded by monsters.

Even if Michael and Vincent are powerful, this woman is right next to my throat. She could end my life if she allows her hate to take over, if even for only a second. Or worse...what if she senses Michael's presence?

#  Chapter 12

"She can't detect my presence," Michael whispers in my mind. "Keep going, you're doing fine."

"Yeah seriously, Izzy," I hear Vincent chime in. "What kind of vampire hunter would Michael make if even lowly vampires like Valerie could smell his stinky wet dog smell? Nonetheless, Valerie is well known for her trickery and manipulation. It's best to ignore her for now."

I continue to struggle. If I could move an inch, I would've been thrilled at this point. But Valerie merely laughs at my torment. She rises up and steps out of the circle.

"You may begin whenever you deem fit, witch," she hisses scathingly to the Russian brujo. "And make it fast. We need to take her back to the council as soon as this is done. You're sure that she's been alone this entire time you've been setting up the ritual? I don't want to see any meddling by that traitor and his leashed dog."

"We've been watching her every day on the hour, my mistress," the brujo answers with a bow. "We would have known if there was anything like that here. This town is nothing of significance. There were no other supers here. But I would like to remind you that we wouldn't necessarily know if there were any slayers around. I'm sure they would've heard something by now."

"Yes, well," Valerie begins arrogantly as she looks at her fingernails. "I was sent here in case of slayers. They'll pose no threat. Just get on with it; my people and I have much to do."

Slayers? What do they mean, slayers?

"We'll tell you about it later," Michael answers softly. "Try to see if you can determine how many vampires there are. We already saw the thirteen witches."

Heeding Michael's advice, I try to get more out of Valerie.

"What are you going to do to me?" I scream in protest. "What slayers are you talking about?! Who are you people? There's no such thing as witchcraft! It's all a hoax used by a group of little girls that got some innocent women killed in the most violent of ways in Salem! Haven't any of you ever read a history book? Seen a documentary?!"

"There's no such things as witches, eh?" Valerie asks mockingly. "I suppose there's no such thing as vampires either. Yet here we are!"

Valerie laughs and moves her right arm up. Instantly, all I hear is the whooshing of air being cut by bodies coming from all angles. I am now surrounded by witches and vampires. I desperately move my eyes around, trying to count them all.

"What? What is this?" I exclaim in fake shock as I continue my count of the vampires. "Is this some sort of cult or something?"

"My goodness, you really are dumb," Valerie says as she looks down at me. "I'm glad I can't mate with you. Your children are sure to be slow and ditzy, just like you. Hmpfh, men...only care about the conquest of power and beauty. If only I could kill you right here and right now Elizabeth...I'd be a happy little bitch right now."

"As opposed to the miserable big bitch you are?" I challenge, knowing she can't hurt me. "Listen here, you freak, I don't know if this is a prank or just some delusion. I don't even care. Just let me go, and I won't call the cops, all right? I swear!"

I hear Valerie speaking and mocking me in the background but I pay her no mind. I'm focused on counting the vampires.

"There are at least 37 of them here," I think to Vincent and Michael. "I really can't move. They have me bound with this circle."

The witches, however, have moved all around me, in a strange star like shape. They're chanting and I can feel my insides getting warmer, warm enough to cause agony.

"Not a problem," I hear Vincent say to me before he addresses his attention to Michael. "What do you think, little brother? How should we play this?"

"I think you should destroy all of them at camp," Michael instructs calmly. "I'll hunt the one or two vampires that are still hiding as a precaution. They won't be able to mask themselves from me. It'll also allow me to safely go into my hybrid form if I need to. You saw the vampires. Valerie is definitely in charge, right? Should we keep her alive?"

"That would be my vote," I hear Vincent agree in my mind. "She's definitely the one leading this pack, she would know the most. Watch out for slayers though. If that's their real concern, then we have another thing to protect Izzy from."

"Way ahead of you. Get here on three," Michael replies.

I want to say something to them, especially now that another form of monster, the slayer, had been brought up. But even under these extreme conditions, I know now was not the time. I do my best not to panic. Suddenly, I see Michael jump up from one of the trees. I witness his human body grow and turn into what I assume was his hybrid form in midair. His clothing rips away and he grows to gargantuan proportions.

I hear the witches and the vampires both protest and shriek in panic as they see Michael run past them. The chaos must be enough to break whatever spell was holding me in place. I sit up, but before I know it, I feel a vise grip around my neck.

"You're coming with me, keeper," Valerie threatens as her canine teeth grow to creepy proportions.

"The hell she is," I hear Vincent say as I turn to see him punch Valerie in the face.

Vincent catches me and lowers me gently down on the floor.

"Don't move," he reiterates before turning into an afterimage himself.

I look up, not moving my head at all, and see body after body get thrown down to the floor, lifeless. All of them are dismembered and decapitated. I'm able to see Valerie's face. It was literally caved in, leaving a mushy, gory mess there where there once was a pretty visage. But her face begins to grow back, much to my dismay.

I can't see a thing, and before I know it, it's over. Michael returns in his human form, sporting nothing but some beach shorts. He carries with him a bloody sack. He smiles at me before turning his gaze away from me in guilt. I suppose he never wanted me to see any of this. I can definitely understand why.

Vincent gathers up all the remains of the dismembered corpses into a heap of death.

"It's okay for you to move now," Vincent informs me as he finishes collecting the dead. "Michael, I have Valerie and the brujo stuck there on the big oak. Do your thing so we can get to this, shall we?"

Michael nods and empties his bloody sack onto the corpse heap. The contents of the sack are the same, three heads, three torsos, and matching body parts. I'm amazed that I'm not throwing up at this point. I suppose that modern day television has desensitized me to all of this...or maybe it was a keeper thing. Who knows?

Michael crouches down near the heap and hangs his head low.

"You have all been found guilty of disturbing the peace," Michael announces to the dead mound. "The penalty is your lives."

Michael claps his hands together and a large gust of flame projects forward onto the mound. The mound catches fire quickly and the corpses actually shriek out in pain. The bloodcurdling screams were now too much for me to handle. I lean over and begin to puke uncontrollably.

"Unfortunately, it's not something you get used to," Michael says as he comes over to me and pulls my hair back away from my face. It's a kind gesture and he looks incredible in nothing but those shorts. But all I care about at this moment is not puking my lungs out.

After a short while, I feel better and Michael helps me to my feet.

"What was that just now?" I ask him curiously. "I thought they were dead."

"Most supers have to be killed that way," Michael explains as he scratches his face. "You remove their limbs and heads, and then set them on fire. If I hadn't done that, they would have eventually come back to life and come after us again."

"I should probably get used to learning on the fly, huh?" I ask playfully, trying to hide my embarrassment at my vomiting incident.

"You definitely should," he answers with a warm smile as he leads me to Vincent.

Vincent has Valerie and the Russian tied up to a tree using what looks like Valerie's intestines. This is gross.

"Which one should we speak to first?" Vincent asks as he wipes his hands clean of blood. "I could charm them, but we both know that they're probably working under a charm to begin with right now."

"You know I've never had the stomach for this," Michael admits with an uncomfortable look on his face. "You're better at this than me. You pick."

"Ah, Michael," Vincent replies as he drops the shirts with which he was cleaning off. "Always the idealist. This is just something that has to happen, otherwise, we get nowhere."

"Yeah well, let's just say I'm not as inventive or as...pragmatic as you in these matters," Michael says as he sits down on a nearby root of a large tree.

Vincent walks up to the brujo first and licks his lips. "Do you know who I am?" Vincent asks the Russian as he places his hand on the man's left ear. "You see, my friend and I, we've been doing this a long time. You might think we're doing 'good cop, bad cop.' But see, that's not the case here. There's only me, the bad cop. I don't mind getting my hands dirty. I'll torture you all day long if you want. And after such a long life, I know pain. So you could make it easy on yourself, or you can waste my time and make your suffering last. Actually, I can even do you one better: if you help us out, I'm sure my friend here won't even bother to hunt you down."

"He's right in that," Michael agrees from afar. "I won't hunt you down at all. I believe in karma, you'll get yours in the end. The way I see it? The vampires are going to consider you a traitor if you live, so they'll come after you. If I were you, I'd want the head start."

The Russian looks around nervously. Vincent leans in closer to him and whispers something into his ear. Michael laughs to himself, obviously hearing what Vincent said. The brujo nods his head fervently.

"I'll tell you whatever you need to know, just please, release me," the brujo pleads. Vincent smiles sadistically as he tilts his head the other way.

"Fine, you're free to go, after you answer our questions," Vincent turns to look at Michael. "Is that all right with you, little brother?"

Michael wears a semi-frown on his face and shrugs his shoulders. "Kill him, release him, either way is fine with me," Michael says before turning to Valerie. "This one however, has much to answer for."

"Piss on you, lowly dog!" Valerie says with a hiss as she spits in Michael's direction. Michael merely cracks his neck and leans back against the tree.

"Who's in charge here?" Vincent asks forcefully, pushing down on a wound the brujo has in his shoulder.

"Val-Valerie is!" the brujo says as he copes with the pain. Vincent releases his grip and helps him up. "Valerie's the only one here who calling the shots? I find that hard to believe."

"I overheard something," the Russian says, desperately trying to gain Vincent's favor and approval. "She was speaking to the other bloodsuckers. She mentioned a man named Klein. From what I heard, she and Klein are closer than she wants anyone to know. Only Valerie and that other vampire she was speaking to knew about Klein. That vampire was also Valerie's lover! They were planning to overthrow Klein! And really! That's all I know!"

"Wait a second," Vincent says as his face becomes animated in surprise. He walks toward Valerie as she continues to struggle against her bindings. "You're planning to double cross Klein? So it was Klein behind this, not the entire council?"

"Who's Klein?" I ask curiously.

"He's the vampire—the only vampire—on the council with a keeper," Vincent explains. "You fooled those whelps into believing this was a mission for the council when in reality it was a mission just for you and Klein? Stop me if I'm wrong...you never cared about this vampire the brujo is describing, the one you had this conversation with. And let me guess, it was also Klein's idea to make this poor young vampire believe that you really loved him. Valerie, you scandalous, manipulative bitch."

"To hell with you, traitor!" Valerie curses at Vincent as she tries to literally bite his face. She seems to be a feral animal, while Vincent is completely in control. Is this what all vampires are like?

"Do you have any idea what the council would say if they knew about all this, Valerie?" Vincent says as he nears his face closer to hers, just outside of the reach of her bite. "They would ash you and Klein in a microsecond. They would even take the word of a traitor like me over yours. My, what a pickle we find ourselves in. Don't you agree, Michael?"

"Indeed," Michael says as he raises himself up from the ground. "So we have Klein, the most powerful vampire on the council, vying for even more power. But why would he want to give the keeper the ability for multiple births? Surely the council would notice...unless..."

Vincent and Michael share a look of surprise as they put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"He's hoping to enhance his abilities with each new birth," they both say together.

"Needless to say, that would be very bad," Vincent says with a shake of his head. "It would also explain why this stupid wretch is so envious of Izzy. Valerie is jealous that Izzy can give Klein what she never could, a legitimate child. Tsk, tsk, Valerie, you should act your age."

"Wait a moment," Michael says. "We have company. We're surrounded. I can't smell them. I can only hear them, and they're doing a great job at hiding their footsteps."

Michael turns around again and again. He looks frantically for the new threat.

"Slayers, about twenty of them," Michael says firmly. "They have new technology, too. But Robert is with them."

"That won't mean a thing to me," Vincent points out quickly. "He will kill you and me just the same, if given the chance."

A shot is heard from the distance of the woods. A long, sleek arrow makes it into the skull of the brujo. He disappears into dead, dried up leaves. Valerie takes the opportunity to jump over her own intestines that were being used as rope and severs the organ before fading away, leaving only her afterimage in sight.

"We'll meet up later," Vincent says. "I don't want to kill humans, I really don't care how evolved they are."

Vincent winks and smiles at me before crouching down and jumping high into the air. He flies away like something out of a movie, his long cloak fluttering behind him.

"Slayers?!" I yelp. This is a new threat I wasn't mentally prepared for. "What are they?! Shouldn't we be running too?!"

"Slayers technically can't kill me," Michael explains calmly. "I'm known to their community; most hate me and want me dead, along with all of the other supers. But I've saved many of their lives. If I run now, I only put you in danger and make myself seem guilty. The speed at which I run might injure you, and they'll surely fire at us if they see a moving target. I can't afford to have you get hurt. But your status as a keeper will ensure your anonymity. You'll be safe. Go to that tree there."

I do as Michael says and get as close to the large tree as I can. Gunshots ring out all around the forest. I see the terror in Michael's face as he phases once more. His shorts rip apart completely as he turns into what can only be his war form. His body mass is huge and almost completely blocks my view of the surrounding area. He hugs the tree I am clinging to and yells in pain as I hear bullets and arrows lodge themselves in his body. Even though Michael explained it, this form is truly something astonishing. I think he is even bigger than he said he was. With his body's girth easily wrapping itself around me, I hear Michael grunt as I am completely protected by him.

Within seconds we are surrounded by men in all sorts of highly sophisticated military gear. They demand that Michael let me go.

A grey-haired man with a grizzled beard steps forwards and looks sadly at Michael.

"You've made quite a mess this time, Michael," he says in a tone that doesn't sound unfriendly. "I imagine Vincent flew away again? Who's that ya have there behind ya? Why don't ya phase back into your human form?"

"Robert," I hear Michael's voice come from the lumbering giant in front of me. It sounds much deeper now, much more intense. "Your eagerness to enter battle has almost killed a human today. How do you feel about that? Would you all be willing to live with the guilt of killing a young woman just to get me? Only because I'm not human?"

I can't see a thing as I press myself up against Michael's body. He's extremely hot. At my feet, I notice there is a small amount of blood pooling on the ground. I can't see any wounds on Michael, but I can hear the soldiers talking amongst themselves. They are ashamed at their actions; most of them anyway.

"As slayers, we're meant to protect humanity, not endanger it," the man identified as Robert announces. "Today, those of you that fired were overzealous. Ya'll almost cost an innocent human life. I hope the guilt of that will be enough of a lesson. Now, all of ya, get the hell out of my sight."

Michael waits several minutes until they're all gone. Then he phases into a normal sized wolf. He sits down in front of Robert and eyes him suspiciously.

"Check her out yourself if you don't believe me," Michael says. "Or can't you detect that any more in your old age?"

"I know she's human," Robert says as he eyes me suspiciously. "My senses haven't gotten that rusty yet. Why didn't ya just leave when ya had the chance? Ya know we wouldn't have harmed her. Ya know how some of my guys feel about werewolves, they don't care whether you're the super police or not. They want ya dead and in the dirt."

"They almost killed her!" Michael argues angrily as he begins pulling arrows out of his body and dropping them to the floor. "And I've told you before, silver does nothing except make your operation more expensive. Here are all of your silver slugs and arrows. You might want to melt them down and pawn them. If you're hunting a werewolf, that is. Thanks for calling off your boys, regardless."

"Yeah, well," Robert says slowly. "I'm very sorry about what just happened. But why did ya stay? And do ya realize that the entire county is going to be able to see that smoke you just sent up into the sky? That was awful reckless of you; I gotta say I expected more."

"Couldn't be helped," Michael explains. "Vincent and I killed over forty vampires and a dozen witches. One of your men killed the brujo we were interrogating—thanks for that too, by the way."

"Witches and vampires working together is never a good sign," Robert says as he paces about pensively. "Any idea what they were doing?"

"Like I said, we were interrogating them and then your boys killed the brujo and let the vampire leader escape," Michael states again, much more sternly this time. "I have no problem working alongside you and your boys, but this kind of recklessness, it doesn't do anyone any good."

"Maybe one day Michael," Robert says sadly. "The prejudices are far too deep. They run much longer than anyone could dare travel, for today anyhow. Get out of here before the boys come back. It don't do no good having to answer more questions. I'll...I'll try to keep my boys in a better way. More discipline..."

"I'll escort this young lady home," Michael states. I can't help but be amused by how adorable he looks as a talking wolf. "I'll probably need Vincent to charm her so she doesn't remember any of this. Thank you for your help."

"Yeah, yeah," Robert says as he turns to walk away. "Next time, make sure you leave before we get on top of ya. I know ya had to sense us."

"I had nothing to hide, no reason to run," Michael replies shamelessly. "If you'll excuse us...and say hello to your wife for me."

Robert nods his head and walks back to where the rest of the slayers are. I walk with Michael all the way home. Vincent is talking to us directly in our minds every so often, letting us know that we are not being followed.

I'm still waiting for an explanation about the slayers. And worse yet, Valerie escaped. That would only mean that Klein would get word about everything that happened here today.

"I thought you said nothing could hurt you while in your war form?" I ask Michael while we head back towards my home. It's hard not to laugh while talking to a wolf and waiting for an actual response. "Those arrows definitely pierced your skin...are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but thanks for your concern," Michael says as he sniffs and turns his head. "It would appear the slayers are making progress on killing supers. I was surprised that the arrows hurt me as much as they did; they even pierced my hide. It was a shock, to say the least. My healing abilities would have eventually pushed the arrows out; I didn't have to pull them out."

"You saved my life you know," I say gratefully. "Thank you. You didn't even hesitate to jump in front of me. It really means a lot to me."

"I would do that until the end of all time if need be, Liz," Michael says as he continues walking. "I...you're my responsibility. You have a hold of me and my heart and soul. If something were to happen to you...well, I don't know what that would do to me."

"Michael..." I say as his kind words caress my heart. "I'm concerned they were able to hurt you, though. You're not invincible like you made me think you were. What if next time it's not just arrows?"

"Don't worry about me," Michael says softly. "I don't want you to stress yourself out over something like that. No need to bother yourself with that kind of thinking, my queen. My forms tend to evolve over time, especially after I sustain serious injuries. The slayers will need to upgrade or change their weapons altogether next time if they wish to harm me. Most likely, anyway."

"I wish you sounded more sure," I say, trying to hide my face, I'm sure I'm blushing over Michael's words.

"As do I," he replies. "It's never a guaranteed thing, but it happens almost every time. Nonetheless, my healing should cancel out their damage. Let's just hope they never find a way to nullify that."

"You're really not good at making me feel comfortable," I confess with a small frown.

"I'm sorry, but please, don't worry," he assures once more. "I'll look into the slayer weaponry later. I'll have to fire at myself with slayer tech to know for sure if my body will adapt after today. For now, though, we must make haste to return to your home. We don't need the slayers to become suspicious and follow us."

I thought about what he said for a while as we walk. How would Michael find slayer weaponry? So much to think about...it's as if the thoughts are literal tidal waves diffusing any chance I have of clear thought.

When we make it home, Vincent is there. He has a full outfit ready for Michael. Michael takes the clothing in his mouth and excuses himself to my bathroom. I can't help myself; I have to laugh. It's the only remotely funny thing that has happened all day long.

When Michael returns I once again can't help myself. The clothing Vincent gave him doesn't fit, not even close. He looks like a former model that just lost everything gambling and is forced to beg on the streets. I bet Vincent did this on purpose, but if he did, I can't tell. Both of their faces show confusion when they see me laugh.

Apparently, this is a common occurrence between the two. If it was, you'd think that Vincent would have brought a better selection of clothing.

Michael looks down at his shirt that exposes his flawless stomach and blushes. I guess he realizes what I'm laughing about. Vincent doesn't even crack a smile. He just begins to make his way to my kitchen.

Now, I'm sure the secret stash I kept in the kitchen had wine in it. But unless there is a vampire trick to produce an unlimited amount of wine, Vincent has to be loading my house up with booze. With the amount he's been drinking, he should have drained my stash long before now. I decide to follow him quietly into the kitchen. I keep glancing back at Michael, hoping not to arouse suspicion.

I peek my head into the kitchen and see Vincent indeed go in to my secret stash. Except it isn't just _my_ secret stash anymore. Vincent has made himself, without my knowledge, completely at home. The small, modest collection of alcohol that was once there only for my father's consumption has turned into a full bar. He's even emptied out a nearby cupboard and placed what I assume are his wineglasses there. He turns as he hears my frustrated sigh.

"What's the problem, Ms. Goody- Two-Shoes?" he says and pauses a moment to take my presence in. I step fully into the kitchen as he continues to address me. "I took some liberties. Nothing has been thrown away, however. It's all neatly tucked away up there, in the cupboard behind your refrigerator. And even if this is just for your father to drink, he deserves to drink from a better stock. Besides, I didn't really care for that generic, throw-up brand you had. No offense intended."

"What's got you in such a mood?" I ask as politely as I can, given the circumstances.

"Slayers," Vincent says disgustedly as he takes a swig from his drink. Michael enters the kitchen now as well. "I never could stand them. They treat every super the same, and we were _not_ created equally. Izzy here is a perfect example of that, isn't she Michael?"

"They're doing what they were born to do," Michael explains cautiously. The topic seems to be dangerous as I notice Michael's tone. "You know it's in their genes. We've gone over this a million times."

"Don't give me that ridiculously weak excuse," Vincent replies as his face winces as if in pain. "I was born to drink humans' blood, and during the blood lust, no trace of humanity is left in a vampire. But I fight it, and I don't kill humans. But if I felt like it, I could kill them, just like I could have killed all those slayers back there. They don't appreciate a thing. Besides, they aren't human anymore either. They're slayers. Why don't they just go hunt themselves, for humanity's sake?"

Michael lowers his head and places his hand on his forehead. "They aren't supers, and you know it," Michael says with a deep exhale. "They were born that way, without the use of a keeper. All of their kids will be born that way, their kids' kids, and so on. They're a genetic evolution; that's why they feel superior to us. Their sense of entitlement comes from the fact that they feel they're still human, and they are, to a degree."

"Wait, hate to interrupt you two." I couldn't take it anymore. "You both have brought a whole lotta crazy into my life, and I think I've been pretty patient with it all. But I've been letting a lot of things slip through the cracks that I've had questions about. I need answers, please. I deserve that much. What is this blood lust Vincent keeps referring to and what, exactly, are the slayers?"

Vincent and Michael exchange looks before turning their attention to me. Vincent raises his glass to Michael and me in a silent toast as he turns back to his cupboard to rearrange the bottles. I had no idea he was such a neat freak. Michael looks at me carefully before opening his mouth slowly and speaking with carefully picked words.

"There are a lot of theories about us," Michael begins as he walks closer to me. "About werewolves, vampires, ghosts, all supers in general. But among those theories, some believe that we're just the next natural product of evolution. They mostly talk about that in regards to vampires, though. They consider vampires to be the next true step in human evolution. The majority think I'm just an evolved wolf. They speak about werewolves being the next step in evolution for wolves themselves. They speak in hushed tones and only in the shadows. But there are a lot of humans that believe in our existence. Some even have proof. One of those groups is the slayers."

Michael pauses as he takes in a deep breath and looks at Vincent, who is still arranging his new personal bar.

"Vincenzo has a personal distaste for them," Michael continues carefully. "He took a very serious oath to not kill humans anymore. And while the slayers hunt him down mercilessly, they still count as human."

"Only technically," Vincent says without turning around. "And that very serious oath you're referring to doesn't include self-preservation. For that matter, it doesn't include them hurting you. I left myself a few outs; you should know that."

"An oath?" I repeat as I think aloud. "A personal promise, or is this something more?"

"He took an oath so the werewolves wouldn't hunt him," Michael explains as I look at Vincent. "He took it for me. He knows I didn't want to have to make the decision between him and my kind...my responsibilities..."

"You two are just chock full of baggage, aren't you?" I comment in complete disbelief.

This prompts Vincent to turn around and look at me. His face shows that he's taken offense at my statement. After realizing what I've said, I see why he would take me for a jerk. Vincent made a promise to the werewolves to prevent Michael from being in a tough spot. But Michael is still in a tough spot, it seems. Whoever, or whatever, these slayers were, they don't give Michael any type of special treatment. On top of that, Michael has mentioned that most of his werewolf kin had abandoned him because of his connection with Vincent. Add in the Coronam to all of that and I can't even begin to imagine what type of lives these two must be living.

"Regardless, we both took the oath in front of many of Michael's kind," Vincent explains coldly, still obviously offended. "To prove our intentions were real. But I ensured that we could still kill humans in self-defense. Of course, Michael refuses to hurt them even then. But that stipulation is there. And while the werewolves' combined magic did bind us to this agreement, it doesn't mean we can't harm them. I choose not to harm the slayers only because of Michael's stupid little pipe dream. But I could cripple them, even if only temporarily, and we should have. They shot at you and Izzy without provocation."

"Robert is proof that not all slayers are single-minded zealots," Michael rebuts calmly. "He let us go. Don't you think he has to answer for that with the rest of his people? Besides, Vincenzo, you know his group isn't the only one."

Vincent shakes his head stubbornly as he takes another drink from his glass. Michael cracks his neck in anxiety before covering his face with his hand.

"Hi, I'm still here," I point out. "You still haven't really explained the slayers to me. Are they human?"

"They're human," Michael insists confidently. "These are people that have changed over time to battle supers. Select families, almost all of which originated from areas of the world that were highly populated by supers. It was nature's way of giving the humans a way to defend themselves against supers. They're more closely related to humans than humans are to chimpanzees. The slayers can explain how they came to be and why they're here. That's why they're human and not a supernatural. This is science; most supers have no idea why we're here."

"Speak for yourself," Vincent argues knowingly. "You know why werewolves exist: to police the supers. And I know why vampires exist. It is all a part of the balance, right? The slayers fit perfectly in there, right in the balance. They should at least see themselves as somewhat supernatural, even if evolution explains their existence. You wouldn't say a homo erectus was the same as a Neanderthal, would you? Trivial differences really. And if they keep hunting us like this, we're going to get in trouble, real soon."

"Is that true?" I ask nervously. I exchange my attention between the two in pure panic. "Are they really that powerful that they could endanger you two? I thought you said you were the most powerful beings on the planet!"

"There are a lot of them, Liz," Michael tries to reassure me. "They live longer than regular humans and they never get frail or sick from age. They pass down their secrets, how to hunt and hide from supers; it goes on just like that, from generation to generation. Their groups usually consist of families that have known each other for centuries. And just like everything else, they have their own prejudices. Some slayers have been able to stand my presence, some even like me."

"Cut the crap, Mike," Vincent commands forcefully as he can no longer hold his feelings back. "You feel for them because they're just like you. Sure, you just police the supers that cross the line, but the slayers kill all supers, period. They're just a more extreme version of you. And to a degree, you wish you could do that. Put a final solution to the problem of balance, right? And these slayers, with all of their gifts, their enhanced strength, speed, blah blah blah, you envy them."

"No, I don't envy them at all," Michael confesses immediately. "I do sympathize with them, though. But the eradication of an entire species of super would disrupt the balance entirely. I'm not for that."

"Are they stronger than you all?" I restate my question, hoping for it to finally be answered.

"No, not at all," Vincent says as he places his glass on the kitchen counter. "But as Michael said, they're lots of 'em. We're talking at least several hundred thousand, maybe more. They're superior to humans in every way. Strength, speed, senses, hell, they're even smarter than the average human. You really don't want to mess around with a 'smart' slayer. That's murder. That's why we avoid them. Until Michael's dream comes to pass, we don't engage them. We just avoid them and hope they leave us be. Which is why I think we should wait and lay low. We don't need this mess right now."

"Agreed." Michael says, looking at me. "It would be best to not force their hands at this moment. But Liz here...eventually, and soon, your charm will wear off, Vincenzo. Liz will have to go back to life as normal. Those slayers are still going to be around. What if they grab and interrogate her?"

"At that point," Vincent says, also turning towards me, "I believe I'm cleared from my oath. We rip their heads off. It's simple."

"I don't want anyone getting hurt on my account," I say firmly. "This whole thing started because of me, and now that the witches are gone I want things to return to normal."

"My dear Izzy," Vincent says, as he slowly swishes the contents of his glass around. "Valerie has escaped, thanks to the slayers. This ordeal has only just now begun. Truly, hate as I might to be the one to tell you this, someone has to. Michael doesn't quite seem up to it. Your old life is over. Every day you stay, trying to live your normal life, is a day you're endangering your family and friends."

I look at Michael, but he avoids my stare shamefully.

"So...I have to leave home?" I stammer.

"Unfortunately, we can't," Vincent continues. "It's not as simple as that. If we leave, you'll just be feeding this town to its fate. Supers will be coming now with the rumors of the keeper being spread by gossipy vampires. I've seen this a hundred times already. It's like I told you, all hell breaks loose when a keeper is found. They'll use this town and all your friends as bait to bring you back. No, we have to take a slightly different approach. A more creative approach..."

"Vincenzo," Michael begins to protest, but his voice trails off futilely.

"No, we really only have two options," Vincent states as he glares at Michael. "We can either permanently alter the memories of all the residents here, let them know of our secret and force them to never tell. Or we erase their memories, as if Izzy never existed. Either way, we don't know where the Coronam groups are going to be coming at us from. We don't know what supers might follow. We need to stay in one place; we can't be on the move. We stay here and we make this place defensible. It's our only real chance at protecting her loved ones and eventually settling this matter."

I look to Michael, mortified at my "only two options." That really can't be all, can it?

"Michael?" I begin, my voice trembling with fear. "Is he right? Is that really all we can do? Sit here and wait for them to come to us?"

Michael hesitates before nodding his head slowly.

I collapse to the ground as my world comes crashing down all around me.

Again.

#  Chapter 13

Faced with only two possibilities makes the decision easier, I suppose. Michael and Vincent promise to pay for all my living expenses and then some. They even offer to teach me privately. They say it would be better than going to that "fancy, overpriced school." Vincent promises to teach me about history, his favorite subject, and Michael swears he'll instruct me in philosophy, astronomy and geology.

They each have a particular set of lesson plans they'd set up already in hopes of keeping my spirits high. I suppose they feel that keeping my mind occupied with academics will help distract me. It's sweet of them. Unfortunately, it doesn't help as much as I think they'd hoped.

I'm quietly thinking over my options as I pace back and forth. I've never had any real friends, just Roy and Jack. But they're more like family. My father is the only family I have left, and the thought of losing him destroys me inside. But this is a very real decision with some serious consequences. Michael and Vincent have the courtesy to leave me alone to my thoughts. They leave under the pretense of searching around the land looking for Valerie, but their faces tell a different story. They're concerned with my decision and how it will affect me. In this case, my decision could once again change the lives of everyone in town.

I keep thinking over what Vincent said. I hate to admit it, but he's right. Running from your problems never solves anything. And if the rest of the Coronam agents are anything like Valerie, they would definitely resort to kidnapping or blackmail. I can tell by the certainty of Vincent's plan that he's sure his memory alterations will stick. He really doesn't seem to think there's any chance of failure in his plan.

That only makes my decision darker, though. I am basically now stuck here, no matter what. I've never been a party animal or anything, but I did like having the option, at least. Now it seems that I would spend most of my days at home, watching the guys argue and poke barbs at one another. That thought brings a smile to my face, but it's still house arrest. Then again, I suppose it's much better than getting caught by the Coronam.

A knock snatches me away from my thoughts. I go to my front door and open it immediately, expecting Vincent or Michael. To my dread, it's Robert, the slayer from earlier. I have no idea what to say or do, but I know I had to play it calmly...or else.

"Hi there, little lady," Robert says with a smile. "I just wanted to make sure ya were fine. Mind if I come in and talk with ya a while? Maybe ya could give me a drink of water? My throat is awful parched."

I hesitate. "Sure, Robert was it?" I ask hoping to mask my uncertainty. "Come on in, make yourself at home. Everyone seems to prefer that sofa there lately."

Robert sets himself on my sofa, and I head to the kitchen. I return shortly with the glass of water and give it to Robert. He takes a long gulp and smiles in relief.

"Nothing like a nice tall glass of water after a hard day's work," he says as he looks me up and down. "Why don't ya join me; there's something we should discuss."

It's precisely at this moment that I notice I'm terrified to death. Not particularly of this man, even though I've been told what he's capable of, but more so the representation of what he means. He is representing yet another group that is against what Michael and Vincent are doing. Yet another thorn in our collective sides. The gravity of the situation almost overwhelms me. I sit down and await what he has to say.

"So I see Vincent hasn't charmed your memories of me out of your mind yet," Robert says calmly as he places his glass of water on the coffee table. He studies my reaction carefully. I think I do a great job, considering I just jumped out of my skin. "Hmmm...well then, seems I was right."

"Right about what?" I ask nervously as I struggle to come up with an answer. I never was a good liar. "Who's Vincent? Memories out of my mind? I'm sorry sir, but I think the heat has affected your brain a tad."

"Is that right? Well then, you just let any old stranger come into your home?"

"I wouldn't consider you a friend," I reply as my mind grasps onto an idea. "But a man who saves me from a bear attack is definitely welcome in my home."

He runs his hand through his beard before smiling at me. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope.

"That's good," he says reassuringly. "But I know who and what ya are. This isn't my first rodeo. Ya could say I've been around the block a few times. I need ya to give this note to Michael. And tell him that the barriers he's set up around your home are perfect. I wouldn't even have found your house without the trail he left behind."

At this moment, I really do have only two choices. I can continue to deny any knowledge of what he's saying and let him speak his piece. Or, I could trust him, as Michael seemed to do. Besides, with Michael's hearing, he knows that this conversation is taking place. He'll come straight here if he even gets a hint of trouble.

"What do you think I am, sir?" I ask as innocently as possible.

"I know what ya are," Robert replies, still willing to play along. "But if ya need me to say it out loud, that's fine too. You're custos sanguinis; you're a keeper. Don't worry, my slayer kin out there can't hear that well. Even if they could, Michael made good on the barriers around your house, like I said. No slayer could possibly see or hear a thing in here. I'm sure you've been seeing all sorts of things in the last few days...Michael and I have been working together for a while now. He saved my life and I settle all my debts. We talk in code in front of others."

"You do? How's that?"

"He asked me about my wife," Robert says. His face has been swallowed by despair. "That means the situation is totally screwed. My wife isn't with us anymore. But I reckon that's a story best saved for another time. I just came on by to let ya know that my kin and I are moving on. I managed to convince them it was safe here. Besides, it didn't take much convincing. Most of the boys and gals are soft on Mike. He's a good kind. Vincent too."

"You..." I begin hesitantly. "You don't hate Vincent?"

Perhaps I shouldn't have asked, but I need to know. Robert's face frowns as he shakes his head, a solid no.

"Not in the least," Robert affirms convincingly. "I know Vincent ain't too keen on slayers. Truth be told, most in my kin ain't too keen on Vincent either. But he's done right by hisself. He's helped Michael save my people and me more times than I can count. I also think it's wrong to hate someone just 'cause of the way they were born. I'm much too old for that. It's useless. And it's a cycle that'll never finish. Slayers were born to protect humans from supers that did wrong to us. We were born destined to protect our more frail fully human neighbors. Some of us don't even consider ourselves human anymore, with what the things we can do and such. But I still remember _why_ we do what we do. If I don't kill a person for eating a cheeseburger, why would I go and kill Vincent for drinking someone's blood? He's got a right to live, I reckon, anyway. I'm not that corn-headed that I don't know Vincent could kill all of us if he done chose to. But for now, we have to talk in secret like this. Maybe one day, though, slayers and werewolves can work together to protect both supers and humans from themselves."

I believe him. Maybe it's his eyes, his slow way of speaking or some other sort of body language...whatever it was, I believe in his words fully.

"So why are you leaving, then?" I ask, perhaps even out of place. "Why don't you help Michael and Vincent now? We have a lot of trouble coming our way; we could use your help."

Robert looks at me with sadness on his face again. He wears his worn trucker cap heavy on his brow. He takes it off before he begins speaking.

"Miss, with all the trouble ya got coming your way," he begins, "not even all the slayers on this rock could help ya all. I really do owe Michael and Vincent, I do. But I know a losing fight when I see one. I ain't going to get my entire kin killed for no reason or cause. That don't mean I won't be around. I'll be dropping in from time to time, help with what I can. But the word's out on the wind already. The Coronam itself wants the three of ya on a platter. They'll be employing everything they got to get y'all, and that means they'll even be hiring regular humans to do it. We slayers can't kill humans; it's just not the way we were built."

"But all I heard from Vincent and Michael was how powerful you all were," I insist. "I can't believe all of you, with your weapons and strength, would just leave. Especially now that the Coronam is coming. This is what slayers are for, isn't it? To protect humanity?"

"That's right," he says softly as he places his hat back on his head. "And maybe I'll even fight for your side when that time comes. But I can't make the young slayers do that. I gotta think like a leader here; this is my household. I even have two nephews hunting with us. Lord knows there's gonna be a huge twister coming your way. That nasty thing is gonna have every little thing from your deepest, darkest nightmares. I have no problem killing those things, if we even can. It's the humans that will be with 'em that I can't touch. There's a lot of information on that note I gave ya. I'm sure Michael will do just fine with it. I don't know how much they told ya about my kind, but we're barely superhuman. We can tumble with the supers with the best of 'em, but at the end of the day, it's our numbers, weapons and training that gets us through. With all that's coming here, I wouldn't be surprised one bit if the entire town doesn't just go and keel over."

"But what about the news? How can something like this happen and no one know about an entire town getting slammed with a tornado of monsters?"

"Honey, they control the media," Robert says as if surprised I didn't know. "This will never make it anywhere near a news station or a printing press. Maybe I said this the wrong way, too. They ain't gonna march on ya here like an army or nothing like that. They're just gonna do what they do best, sneak their ways in here. That's why I need my people outta here. Before ya know it, only the locals will know who actually lives here and who just happened to show up. Besides, the Coronam won't make too much of a mess of things. They don't wanna make things so bad that the slayers and the werewolves come in numbers. The Coronam don't know how many of us there really are, same with the wolves."

He stands up, takes off his hat, and bows his head.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he says politely. "I have somewhere to go; gotta go arrange a few knickknacks and such."

"Of course." I stand and lead him to the door.

"Ya just make sure Michael gets that note, now," he says, as he adjusts his hat one more time. "It could mean all the difference in the world."

"I will," I assure him as I wave goodbye.

This brief but important meeting has made my decision clear. I never really had two options. I only ever had the one. I wonder if Vincent knew this all along and was just hoping I would come to that realization on my own...

After what seems like an eternity, the guys finally come back. They return with several pieces of luggage each. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

"We're moving in," Vincent says as he notices my expression. "It seems Michael didn't like wearing belly shirts. Who knew?"

"Don't I get a say in this?" I ask. An act in futility, I know.

"Normally, yes," Michael replies seriously. "But because of the implications that this could have for the entire town, much less the world, no. Sorry Liz, but until this boils over and we can somehow shut the Coronam down, we're here. One of us will always be by your side. This way we can be sure that no one will take you off and hide you somewhere."

"Ahuh," I say, mocking frustration. As if I would _really_ be upset that I had to look at two gorgeous men all day long... right. "While you two were gone, Robert came by. We spoke a little; he's a really nice guy. He gave me this to give to you, Michael. And he even thinks highly of you Vincent."

"That just made my Christmas, you can forget about that puppy I wanted," Vincent answers sarcastically as he begins unpacking his stuff. "Hey, who gets what here? I'm not used to living in such... modesty. I mean, I know I don't _have_ to sleep, but if I want to sleep, I'd like to know I can do so in style. Is your bedroom upstairs?"

"We'll talk about that later," Michael says as he brushes off Vincent's silliness for a moment. "Let me see that, please?"

I hand Michael the envelope and watch as he opens it frantically. His eyes dart back and forth quickly as he reads it. His expression begins to sour as he reads more and more until he finally finishes.

"These are all rumors, killings the slayers have committed, the movements of large groups of supers," Michael says as he shakes his head. "There's a ton of information here and I'm sure it was meant for slayer eyes only. This even tracks down other slayer groups so we can avoid them if we need to. But this is way bigger than we thought, Vincenzo. There seems to be a traitor in the ranks of the Coronam. According to this, the information about there possibly being a keeper here got out even before the witches arrived. Someone wanted anarchy in this town."

"Why on earth would they want anything from this podunk town?" Vincent asks in disbelief. "They have one bar. One! There's nothing going on here."

"There's a lot going on here. Read it for yourself," Michael prompts. "This land has a lot of reported slayer activity here. Where there are slayers, there are supers. And with this many slayers coming in and out of here every so often...this territory has to have some significance. Something maybe I overlooked."

"You? Overlooking something?" Vincent says as he stands up and grabs the letter from Michael. "I'm surprised that you would overlook anything in your research. Besides, I've never even heard of this place; that has to count for something."

"What are you two girls babbling about?" I ask lightly. I just want them to fill me in, but as usual they are going two hundred miles per hour and keeping me out of the loop.

"Alright, let me see if I can explain," Michael says as he sits down next to me. "The land itself can become charged with energy. You've heard of haunted houses, right? Well, sometimes they're actually real. Sometimes something so bad happens that it leaves a residual effect on the place. But what this is suggesting is that something so pivotal happened here, it's actually leading supers here. And Vincenzo and I have never heard of it. That's huge news, especially since fangs over here is a walking history lesson."

"Bite me," Vincenzo suggests with a cool tone. "But he's right. As it is, the super community pretty much hates us...I wouldn't be surprised if they kept information from us. But how could they keep a secret from my network? You know how many geeks and dweebs I have under my employ? And we all know they know stuff. And with the internet now? Forget about it."

"Vincent, you should know better than anyone else that they didn't always have the internet," I say in kind of a bitchy tone. The constant world-changing news is starting to affect my demeanor. "What if it was something secretive they kept from you during an age when you didn't have your network of spies or any way of knowing otherwise? Like television or newspapers? When did you first come to America?"

"That's genius," Michael says with a smile on his face. It was nice to see him proud of me, but this new problem added to the already huge string of tragedies had me exhausted. "Vincenzo, think about it. We first came to America in the 1800s if I remember right."

"Yeah, so? We spent most of the early 1800s in western Europe," Vincent answers as he tries to piece together the timeline. "Then we came in a private vessel because I had too many possessions I wanted to bring with me...and of course, our combined wealth...then we landed in Boston and stayed there for a while. We'd have to see if there are any records of something huge happening before 1850 or so in this area. But how can we find that out? It most likely had to do with the Coronam, and they aren't going to tell us or be foolish enough to send someone who knows that secret over here."

"Maybe the animals or the trees know," Michael suggests.

"Leave me out of that hippie crap," Vincent states as he furrows his brow. "You know I really loathe all that. Besides, you're going to be seeing it from their perspective. In their eyes, humans are monsters too. They might not be able to tell one atrocity from another."

"Excuse me, yet again boys," I chirp in, more than a little irritated. "I shouldn't be surprised by anything at this point. But I will just ask anyway. Michael, can you speak to animals and trees?"

"Yes, all of the tribe can; it's a basic gift."

"All right, just wanted to make sure," I say in exasperation. I can't handle it anymore. I know that this is part of my world now too, but it's just too much to take in at once.

I thought I could handle it. I really did. I figured with them by my side, I could do anything. But it just seems like it's one thing after another. Who cares about what happened over 200 years ago here? Why does it hold any significance to our current problem? I have to lay down, my head is spinning. I excuse myself and go upstairs to my bedroom, just barely making it to my bed. I slowly make myself more comfortable until I'm fully under the sheets.

I don't know how long I sleep, but a knock at my door wakes me. It's Michael.

"Come in," I say shamefully. "Look, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was really out of line to both of you."

"It's fine, we both understand," Michael admits. "You're just feeling this way because you're a keeper. It's only a onetime thing; at least, that's what Vincenzo says. He explained that if you never had prior contact with a male super, this was bound to happen to you sooner or later. It's apparently just a transition where you go from being unable to mate with a super to being able to mate with one now. Nothing to be concerned about."

"You realize you're describing a supernatural puberty?"

"I suppose, at its base, that's what it is," Michael says as he slowly walks into the room. "I just wanted to let you know that Robert also enclosed a letter about everything he would tell you. We've made our plans on how to deal with what is coming. Have you? Do you know what you're going to tell Vincenzo?"

"Yeah, yeah I do," I affirm as I try to rub the grogginess out of my eyes. "I just hope it works out as well in the real world as it did in my head."

"You know, this may come as a huge surprise to you," Michael says as he leans in closer and begins to whisper in my ear. "But no one is perfect. Can you believe that? Who would have thought that?" He laughs softly before standing up straight again. I turn to face him and smile.

"Yeah well," I begin to reply as I hide my face under the sheets. "It's hard to feel empowered when you two are around. And it just seems like every single time there's a decision to be made, it's my decision. With each decision, it's another crisis. A world-ending crisis. I just...I guess I miss my old life. Having you and Vincent in my life is great, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. It's just before you two, I had no excitement. I thought I was responsible, but now I know what real responsibility feels like. I thought paying tuition and rent was hard enough...but all this? All that's been happening? How could you live in this world?"

"The world behind the curtain?" Michael asks with a low chuckle, as if reliving a memory. "This is reality. Besides, there are many things worth living for. You have so much to see that you haven't even dreamed of yet. And as far as being able to live in this world...I meant what I said about no one being perfect. No one is, no matter how many centuries you live."

I allow myself a smile before sitting up in bed and stretching. I don't know what day it is, but I do see sunlight, so I at least slept through the entire night.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask curiously as I notice my clock radio. "Is that thing right? Was I asleep for—"

"Yes, you slept for two days," Michael answers, trying to calm my nerves. "But you're fine now. What's more important is that you're safe. We haven't heard anything at all. That's a good sign. Vincenzo and I probably scared the Coronam pretty badly. I doubt they'll come over here so recklessly again. That gives us time to better prepare."

I close and open my eyes several times and reach for the glass of water someone left on my nightstand. I take a few small sips and put it back.

"Were you able to do your talk to the animals thing?"

"Yes, I was," he answers me with a smile. "There's still the matter of discussing what to do with the people in town. Jack has been asking for you. Your father also came by, but luckily, Vincenzo was the one who opened the door. When you're settled, come downstairs and we'll talk about it. Whenever you're ready."

I nod and swing my legs to the side of the bed. Michael lowers his head and leaves my bedroom. Never noticed how short the doorway to my bedroom is. After a nice relaxing shower, I get myself changed and come downstairs. Michael has prepared breakfast and Vincent is on the sofa reading something on Michael's laptop. They both greet me as I come in.

"Well, look at you," Vincent says with a bit of a flirtation in his voice. "Looking all sexy. How ya been gorgeous? Ready to get down and dirty?"

"Nice to see you too," I answer him dryly. Although the thought of slapping him did cross my mind.

"You see that Michael? She didn't even slap me this time," Vincent says confidently, as if victory was his. "She's going to be mine if you don't guard her more."

"Yeah, Vincenzo," Michael answers in a patronizing tone. "You have won absolutely. After all, no violence immediately after being awoken in the morning is one of the signs. I think I read that somewhere."

"Have your fun for now, pup," Vincent continues his fun. "But you won't be smiling with those big teeth of yours for long."

"Look at him talking about having big teeth," Michael replies as he turns to look at me. "Coming from a vampire? Perhaps I should be a little offended after all. Can I offer you some breakfast?"

I sit down at the table near Michael and shake my head.

"Just coffee please," I answer, still a little tired. "I need the pick-me-up. Especially if I'm going to be briefed further by you two. I feel like I joined the paranormal military or something."

"Yep, that's us," Vincent says as he holds up his own cup of coffee. "We're the paranormal military squad. PMS."

"His jokes get better the later it becomes, I think," Michael suggests with a soft chuckle as he pours me a cup of hot java. It smells great, just a slight hint of vanilla added to it. "But you're probably right. The caffeine will help your body out in case you feel like fainting on us again."

I smile as I look at his jade eyes. We exchange a tiny moment together before he turns to grab some milk and sugar for my coffee.

After preparing my coffee and drinking it, the three of us exchange polite pleasantries with tiny jokes sprinkled in here and there. It all feels awkward and fake. I can't believe it, but I'm actually in a hurry to get back into the dark reality. I'm dying to know what had happened in the "world behind the curtain" while I was out.

"So I hate to interrupt one of our few happy moments here," I finally say plainly. "But I've come to a decision...Robert helped. I don't even think he knew he was helping me at the time."

"For everything I say about slayers, Bobby isn't included in my blanket insults," Vincent points out. "He is a good man. If more slayers were like him, perhaps the Coronam wouldn't have us by our collective tails, as it were."

Michael merely nods in polite agreement. I notice him eyeing me anxiously, he is obviously concerned with what I'm going to do or say.

"Vincent, I have a feeling I know the answer," I begin my most likely longwinded request. "But I'll ask anyway. I get the feeling you really doubt your charm can be broken. But even if there's a slight chance of that not being the case, I really need to know. Is there any chance that could happen? Or is it possible that a human can't be charmed, or that your charm just doesn't take?"

Vincent's sapphire-like eyes pierce through me as he tilts his head to the left. He immediately adjusts his head to the other side and exhales almost sternly.

"I am the most powerful vampire in the world," he says confidently, in a deadly serious tone. "There is a small chance that only one vampire can exist that is stronger than I. But I only mention him because you wish me to point out such frivolities. There exists the urban legend of Cain, the first vampire. He is said to still be alive. I look at people that mention his name with seriousness the same way I'd look at an adult mentioning the Easter Bunny being real."

Vincent stops talking respectfully as Michael clears his throat behind me. He smiles reluctantly before looking up at Michael.

"Of course, as with almost everything, Michael has a differing view..." Vincent continues, unabated by Michael's cue. "The conspiracy is all over the internet, Cain has gone fully viral. Michael believes Cain to be real, and I can respect him for believing that. He might even end up being real. But if he is real, he is at the very least almost twice my own age, and that is by the most ridiculous low-balling estimate. As you can see, at almost sixteen hundred, very little bothers me anymore. I imagine if I were thirty-two hundred years old, I wouldn't care about a thing. Furthermore, as I said, that's a really ridiculous estimate...it's assuming the world is anywhere near as old as Genesis would have us believe. And the world is much older than that, so let's say the Bible was off by several thousands of years. Cain would be just a little younger than the dinosaurs. It's really unlikely."

"Cain? The biblical Cain? Aren't you afraid that he's real?" I ask in earnest. "That would make you number two...with a huge gap in between your age and his. That's insane. You'd seem like a child to him, wouldn't you?"

"And what's being afraid going to solve?" he asks me openly. "I stick by my guns that he's not real. I also stick to my guns that if he is real, then he doesn't care at all about me, much less the world."

"How did you make it to be the oldest vampire?"

"I killed everyone who was older than me as soon as I could," Vincent explains as he narrows his eyes and takes a deep sip from his coffee. His gorgeous blue eyes held no remorse for those older vampires he had slain. "If you thought Valerie was a monster, the true monsters were the ancient ones, my creator being the most likely candidate for worst of all...although at the time I did it for my benefit, I was actually doing the world a favor."

For an unusually long time, I stare at Vincent. I imagine what it must be like to be that old, that wise...the things he must have witnessed. I hate fads coming and going, but Vincent must have seen how many? How many important, life-changing events that were never recorded or seen by anyone other than first-hand witnesses? He would make a great history professor, I think to myself.

"So, what did you decide?" Michael asks, eager to hear my answer.

"If that's the case," I say, clearing my throat, "then please erase the entire town's memory of me...and could you please do something special for my father? I know I'm asking a lot. But he's been through so much...I was hoping you could do something to help him, if you could."

"What would you have me do?" Vincent asks without hesitation. His right eyebrow is raised in anticipation. It only serves to make his eye shine even bluer.

"His life has been nothing but sadness," I explain clumsily, leaping through words. "My mother left him, then he turned to alcohol...even now, he worries only about me. Could you give him some extra money? Charm him into thinking he has had an enormously successful life? Make him think he never wanted kids and a wife, make him blissful. Please, if you could, search into his deepest dream, and make him that, or at least think he was that. The money in his account would make it all the more believable."

"Do you realize what that suggestion you're asking for is really going to create?" Vincent asks me. "He might just gather up his things and move away. You'll never see him again. Ever."

"I've thought about it for a long time," I answer weakly. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. "I don't ever want to be misunderstood. I love my parents and nothing on earth could ever replace them. But if he has the chance to be happy, I want him to be happy. If he'd rather get remarried, I'd want him to remarry. If my not existing would make him happier...that's what I want."

I hide my face and turn away as I feel the tears stream steadily down my face. I feel both Michael and Vincent's hands on my shoulders.

"That's not something to be ashamed of," I hear Michael say softly. "It's a very noble gesture. It would be easier to just keep him around and in pain, but you're choosing the higher path. The path that is right is usually the harder one."

"Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes, as always," Vincent says with a chuckle. "I'll get on it right away. Right after our talk. You might want to sit on the sofa for now though; this is another one of those news updates you dread so much."

I thank both of them by touching their hands and gather myself before moving to the sofa. I breathe in deeply, centering myself. When Vincent announces something like that, it isn't to be taken lightly. Vincent examines me then nods at Michael to continue.

"You had asked before if I had spoken to the animals," Michael says as he begins to crack his neck. "I did. I spoke with many. I also spoke with the trees here, with nature itself, about what it has seen here, heard about. The animals speak of a legend of a brutal man-beast collective doing horrible things to young human girls. The trees, being much older and having much less communication with one another, spoke of their forefathers being cut down and burned while man-beasts danced."

I shake my head in confusion. None of this makes any sense.

"Hey chief lame horse, would you please get off the fire water and speak English?" Vincent says as he notes my frustration.

"From experience, I know the way animals talk. They speak of vampires and some other supers as man-beasts," Michael continues, a little fazed by the interruption. "They deem humans to be cruel and unkind, but have seen far worse at the hands of vampires and other supers. So I had to seek out the origin of the legend. I found the ritual site. It was the same place they took you to, Liz. The ritual site has a history. I linked with the grassy hills there and saw his face. Klein was there. And he was trying the same thing, but a long time ago, at the very least; judging by the clothing, it was the 1700's. He was there with a ring of thirteen witches, led by a brujo, and they were trying to incite purity in what I can only assume was a keeper. The rituals were almost identical, and with Robert's information, I could tell that the slayers had been traveling these forests around the same time that the land had held these rituals. You're just the last in the line of keepers for him."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," I suppose aloud. It could have been much worse.

"There's more to it," Michael says softly, careful with each word. "He's been committing terrible acts of cruelty and witchcraft in this area, on both human and supers alike. He's been saturating the land with the blood of keepers and other tortured supers. The humans he uses for their raw emotion, to set the energy to the land. Then the supers are there to 'seal the deal' so to speak. When the balance is manipulated in such a way, a lot of things happen. More of the tribe awaken to combat the threat."

"And then there are the keepers," Vincent says as he senses Michael's hesitation. "With supers dying left and right, Michael's lovely balance he touts so proudly kicks in. More keepers sprout up than normal. Our buddy Klein has been chumming the waters with humans and their agony, and then killing supers as a way to force a boom in the super population...and how do supers increase in numbers naturally? Ding, ding, ding!!! With a keeper!"

"Wait, wait a second," I say as I find myself speechless. I calm myself down before I start to hyperventilate. "What exactly are you saying? That he's artificially forcing more keepers to be born?"

"Bingo!" Vincent says as he points his finger at me. Michael lowers his head in disgust at Vincent's levity. "In other words, he's been making other young girls like you pop up all over this entire land. If we went a couple towns over, we might find another keeper. It's rare, but it could happen. Another possible outcome is that he uses you as he sees fit and then kills you; that could theoretically awaken another keeper in the area. He's playing at being a sport fisherman; it's catch and release all day with him, baby."

"Vincenzo, for the love," Michael exclaims in anger and frustration. "Show a little restraint. This is her life—her species here."

"Hey, I was just speeding things up," Vincent argues. "We would have been here all day waiting for you to explain it. I just gave her the short version, that's all she needs."

I know these last few weeks have been emotional and mercurial. I know I've said I couldn't take it plenty of times lately. But this is seriously enough. I break down and completely lose any nerve I had built up.

"Do you see what you've done?!" Michael growls at Vincent as he places his arm over me. "She's going through enough right now, don't you think?!"

"Maybe instead of coddling her, you should prepare her," Vincent refutes calmly. "We can't protect her against herself. She's a keeper, it's in her nature. If Klein can somehow get rid of us, she might fall under his spell and then it's all over for her. I'm willing to give her the tough love she will need and not sugarcoat things. You'd rather take the blow and cover her eyes so that she'd remain ignorant of the truth that's all around her."

As angry as Vincent makes me, he's right. I softly push Michael away and wipe away the tears from my eyes. My hands tremble in anxiety, but I refuse to give in. I look Vincent square in his eyes.

And I slap him as hard as I can.

"That's more like it," Vincent says with a smile. "That's the girl who stole my heart."

"You _will_ answer my questions," I demand forcefully. "I need to know something, and I imagine only you have seen this before."

"Yes, my mistress," Vincent says with a slight smile on his face. "I will do as you command, provided I feel like it."

"Keepers, are they normally maintained in a family's bloodline?" I ask, my mind wrenching at the thought. "I know that they're always women, but do genetics have anything to do with it, like Michael's father was a werewolf before him?"

"You could say that," Vincent says thoughtfully. "But like I told you earlier, keepers are very rare. It's not like there's one born every generation. If they are, it's because things are going haywire and a species is on the verge of extinction. That would seem to be what Klein is trying to do. But I did know of two different keepers from two different families that shared a single bloodline, a common progenitor."

"I'm going to lower my defenses," I report desperately. "I need you to search out a memory, from when I was very small. It was of my mother. She was taken from me, by something; I don't know what it was. That's what started my interest in the supernatural...I need you to try and see my memory and tell me what took my mother."

Vincent's eyes widen as he realizes what I'm asking. I hear Michael sigh behind me as his heavy feet walk away. Vincent places his hand on my forehead and I feel him searching through my mind. He's moving rapidly but gently, searching for the memory I described. I feel him find that haunting memory as I myself relive it as if it were happening all over again. I recoil as I feel Vincent disconnect with me.

"Why was I _never_ told?!" Vincent asks angrily as he stands up and walks away from the sofa. "Why would you keep this from me? I thought I was a part of the team here?"

"I honestly meant to tell you," Michael says calmly. "But so many things came up, the time just wasn't right."

"And you? What's your excuse?" Vincent asks me accusingly. "Didn't you trust me enough to tell me about this? What if this was information we could've used earlier? Which, by the way, it was! Had I known about this we could have avoided all that jungle rubbish and just gone to the source directly. Remember that traitor you were referring to, Michael? In the Coronam?! We just found him! But you...you had to withhold this piece of information. This was our salvation."

"What? What're you talking about?!" I plead with him. I'm truly sorry to have hurt him, but I need to know what he's getting at.

"That was Klein," Vincent says, anger still heavy on his voice. "Had you told me about this earlier, we could have requested an audience with the Coronam. I'm sure they have no idea what Klein's real intentions were; that he's been secretly plotting this for centuries. In front of the council the politics of vampire aristocracy would have mandated him to present a case against us, which he couldn't have done. But now, we've killed several dozen members of the Coronam, and are responsible for the deaths of thirteen witches who were themselves agents of the council. We're now officially fugitives! We could have ousted Klein without any combat whatsoever!"

"And what about my mother?" I plead with him, not caring to hear about what could have been. "Could she still be alive? Does Klein still have her?"

My words manage to slow Vincent's pacing down considerably, and eventually he stops before speaking.

"You two stay here," Vincent instructs firmly but without the anger his voice held earlier. "This time, I trust we'll work as a team. I can't answer that question just yet without it being a total guess. Besides, I have to charm an entire town. _Again_."

"Where will you go?" I ask once again, practically throwing myself at his feet, begging him. "Are you asking your information network?"

"No," he says calmly as he looks down at my eyes and wipes away a tear. He glances at Michael and nods solemnly. "I'm going directly to the source. I'm heading to the Coronam main council chamber, where Klein sits as chairman."

"But no, wait," I plead yet again. "What if they capture you? Or worse?"

"Then..." he replies slowly, one hand on the front door handle, "Michael will inform you immediately. He'll notice the giant shift in the balance in the earth. Truly brother, this is a mess that could have been avoided."

He takes one last look at the both of us, before heading out the door without hesitation.

#  Chapter 14

An entire week passes.

Granted, it's an entire week of being with Michael alone, but it just doesn't seem fair. As much as I feel for Michael, and he truly was romantic all the time, I can't help but worry for Vincent.

For all his arrogance, eccentricity, sarcasm and complete inability to take anything seriously, I miss him. I'm genuinely concerned about him, so in a way, I can't truly enjoy my time with Michael. Michael and I had left out an important detail, and for all we knew, Vincent could be in serious danger because of that.

Michael is beating himself up about it too. Even when we go out, I can tell his mind was somewhere else. We both feel guilt over Vincent, I suppose. While we're together having a good time, we'd condemned our friend to an unknown fate. And I just can't get Vincent's expression out of my mind. He'd felt betrayed and hurt. He'd looked at us in complete disappointment, like we were mere children.

I guess for Michael it's even worse. It's one thing for me, I haven't known Vincent for anywhere near as long as Michael has. Besides, I suppose Vincent expected more from Michael; he _is_ over 500 years old, after all. On top of that, he has all these gifts that were given to him for being a servant of nature...

And that's when the ugly thought hits me. I don't even want to consider it, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't enter my head. Did Michael purposely leave out the details of my mother's disappearance from Vincent to have a secret only he shared with me? Did he want to be the hero to help me and prevent Vincent from doing so? It's torture thinking about this. I have no way of stopping myself, though. Eventually, I have to ask him. I just don't know how to go about doing so. But if we're to be strictly honest with one another, I should have no worries or concerns.

So I just come out and ask one morning after a sleepless night.

"That's what's been on your mind this entire time?" Michael asks, slightly taken aback by the question. "That would be a really terrible thing for anyone to do, especially to a friend. Vincenzo is my oldest friend, my brother. If I did that to him, I truly would be scum. To answer your question, no, I wasn't hoping for alone time with you at the expense of Vincenzo's life. You do mean a lot to me, but I won't trade your life for his, or his for yours. I can't put either of you in that position. I'm afraid it was my incompetence that got us into this situation."

He adjusts himself in his chair and cracks his neck. He exhales deeply before continuing.

"I have to be honest," he says. "Your mother's disappearance was on my mind, but I had a lot going on. I had already started getting information on her abduction, but then everything sort of accelerated on us. It became an issue of time, and somewhere along the line, it slipped my mind. It's not that you don't mean a lot to me, it's just that I was thinking of the entire world here. There would be no world for your mother to come back to if we didn't save it."

"So, you think she's alive?" I inquire curiously as I notice Michael is tripping himself up. "Did you think she could be a keeper since I'm one? Did you know this all along?"

"Not even Vincent could know if she was or is a keeper," Michael answers with confusion on his face. "Vincent can do much with a person's mind, but being a keeper is more of a physical status. You'd have to physically have the keeper in front of you. In all honesty, the idea that she might have been a keeper had entered my mind. But I wasn't going to lead you on just a hunch or suspicion. It would have been unfair."

"How so? Why would it have been unfair for you to tell me what you were thinking?"

"Because if she's a keeper, or was a keeper," Michael begins slowly, "there's a good chance she's alive. But I don't want you to get your hopes up; you've suffered enough."

"My mother could be alive? But why wouldn't she come back? She would've come to see me!"

"I'm just saying what I think," Michael states clearly. "You want to know what's on my mind at all times? I can do that, but can you handle it? Vincenzo and I have seen a lot of things; we have unique perspectives. You might not want to know what we're thinking. Sometimes it's best to leave things a mystery, if only for your sanity. I'm not saying to stay ignorant forever of the world around you. I'm just suggesting that perhaps you could go slower. Learn at a pace you can handle. If you learn too much too fast, it might be too much to take in at once. That's why I kept your status as a keeper from you. I wanted to slowly work you up to that discovery. Vincenzo and I have different ways of doing things, and I still maintain that he threw you into the deep end of the swimming pool at much too early an age. You've had so much to deal with; I couldn't agree with his choice. And I would caution you, if you ask Vincenzo to always tell you what's on his mind, he will. And he won't sugarcoat things, as he always likes to point out. Sometimes, even Vincenzo himself needs to be led into things slowly. He doesn't know I'm doing it, but he can be very passionate about things, and sometimes, I have to give him information one piece at a time."

"You're saying you're able to manipulate Vincent?"

"No, no," Michael states defensively. "I would never say that. I believe manipulation has a very ugly stigma attached to it. It has its own place, especially in the work we do. It can help to avoid combat and bloodshed. As a matter of fact, I compliment Vincenzo all the time on his ability to manipulate our enemies. I suppose he's manipulated me hundreds of times. All I was saying was, sometimes I know what Vincenzo will do with a certain set of information. So I work with that, but I never lie to him. For example, Vincenzo loves conspiracies. It's one of his things. He thinks a lot of things that have happened in history have been products of conspiracies."

"Vincent is a conspiracy theorist? That's almost unbelievable."

"Yes, I can imagine why it would seem more than a little out of place," Michael admits with a smile beginning to form on his face. "We're constantly getting into arguments over them. One of the most reoccurring is about the U.S.S. Eldridge."

"Wait, the one about the disappearing ship in Philadelphia?" I ask with a laugh. "What? Does he think that a huge ship like that was able to go invisible or time travel?"

Michael smiles at me.

"Yes well, we've been at the center of a lot them before. Several conspiracies have revolved around us, actually," he says with a slight smirk. "Stranger things have happened throughout history. The U.S.S. Eldridge is a special one for him, I guess...I don't think the government had the technology at the time, but he disagrees. The problem is that the government has had contact with some supers, and through that contact, they have been able to duplicate the supernatural abilities of some supers. It's a bit troublesome, because the government doesn't care about the balance."

"The government knows about supers?" I ask incredulously.

"About some of us," Michael says, looking troubled. "I've managed to rescue several supers from government facilities. The tribe is tasked with this type of rescue as a high priority, so the information the governments around the world can get is minimal. Still, they know there is more out there than just humanity. Although some governments have classified supers as extraterrestrials, if you can believe that."

"That, I can believe," I say as I review all of his statements. "But wait a second; you guys were actually involved in some conspiracies? Like what?"

"Well, it's not really something to brag about," Michael says with a slight blush. "We were a couple of hell raisers, I guess. When technology was coming out, we were really fascinated by it. I think our first one was—"

Michael's voice is cut off by an opening and a quick slamming of the front door. He stands up and gets in front of me without me even being able to track his movement. I peek around his body. There's a man with messed up hair and he's doubled over on the floor.

"Vincenzo!" Michael screams as he runs toward the figure.

Michael grabs Vincent's body and picks him up. I'm finally able to see Vincent's face and his perfect features are swollen and bleeding. How could this happen?

"Clear the table," Michael orders as he brings Vincent toward the kitchen. He unbuttons Vincent's shirt and I wince as I see the wounds. Acidic burns litter his body, and shards of what seem like glass are sticking out all over Vincent's torso. "What is this? Why hasn't your healing kicked in?"

"Hey there Mikey," Vincent says with a weak smile. Blood spurts from his mouth freely. "I didn't think we'd ever have our roles reversed. It's a huge difference being the one cradled in your arms little brother...I don't think I like it."

"Now is _not_ the time for jokes, you fool," Michael growls in frustration. "What happened to you?"

"Klein," Vincent coughs as he chokes on his own blood. "I'm afraid it's like you said, Mikey...my arrogance would be my downfall. He's been experimenting on fledgling vampires. He's been planning on killing me for a while, it would seem. He calls it Hela. A bit dramatic, don't you think? It's the first real weapon against vampire kind. Klein convinced the council that they needed to create this for me. That they needed a weapon for protection for when I would eventually try to overthrow the council...they didn't listen to a word I said."

"I could have told you that. Bite down," Michael says as he places his left hand inside Vincent's mouth. He begins pulling the pieces of glass out of Vincent's body with his right hand, letting it drop on the floor near him. Vincent struggles weakly against Michael's grip in pain. I can't help but weep as I see Vincent's eyes well up with water as well. "Be at ease, my brother. Let me be the one to save you this time. Bite down as hard as you can. Forget about the pain."

"I think I saw your mother," Vincent screams as he moves his head away from Michael's hand violently. "If I die, let her know this. She has become younger I think...but think I might be hallucinating right now. I don't really know much. She didn't come back because she couldn't explain her youthful appearance. Klein has her completely convinced only he can protect her."

I gasp at the news. Michael nods and places his hand back inside Vincent's mouth. But Vincent doesn't bite down. His eyes are rolling towards the back of his head. Michael slaps him awake.

"We will save her," Michael growls furiously. He is extremely feral right now. I notice that although still in his human form, Michael's canine teeth have become extremely pronounced. "But you _must_ wake up! We will save your kind! But we need you, their elder, alive and there to lead the fight!"

Vincent laughs until it turns into a wheezing cough. He nods at Michael several times as if trying to psych himself up. He bites down on Michael's hand and nods once more. Michael continues tending to Vincent's wounds. The vampire writhes in pure agony with each piece of glass that is removed.

It's a long and arduous procedure. It's something I don't think I'll ever forget. But after it's done, Michael wraps Vincent's wounds up and places him gently on the sofa. Vincent's face is pale. He seems to be dying.

"I'll go find herbs that I know will work on him," Michael instructs me. I'm in too much of a panic to say a word. "I need you to watch over him. It'll take some time to gather the herbs. And as much as I hate it, I must go to a blood bank. He needs to feed. His healing factor isn't kicking in at all. It's like it's been completely neutralized. He's dying...keep him awake; don't let him close his eyes."

I can't even nod. The strongest vampire in the world is dying on my sofa. Michael leaves in such a hurry he doesn't even bother to close the door behind him. I gather myself and close the door, then rush to Vincent's side.

"Hi there, Goldilocks," he says with a weak smile as his trembling hand reaches for my hair. I grab his hand and help it on its way. "That's awful sweet of you. I guess I don't look much like Prince Charming right now, do I?"

He coughs weakly and winces in pain. I grab his hand and kiss it. He just can't leave me, not now, not ever.

"It was my fault," Vincent continues. "I let the stupid babies hit me, thinking Klein was an arrogant prick. Turns out, the joke's on me. I'm the arrogant idiot. And now...as I lay dying, I can't help but think about how I leave this world behind. If I were to die now, Klein would have them completely deceived. This Hela poison will destroy the entire species. It's like introducing an atomic bomb to cavemen. Vampires are harmful enough to one another as it is, we don't need...don't need...to make it any easier for them to hurt one another. It's just not right."

I notice the life flow slowly away from Vincent's eyes. I shake his hand vigorously.

"Hey, I heard that you like conspiracies?" I say meekly, desperately trying to restore his attention. "I love conspiracies. I heard one of your favorites is the Philadelphia Experiment. Is that right? I don't know much about it, but I've read about it. Why do you like it so much? Why do you think the government succeeded?"

He only looks at me and tries to make a smile. He isn't even strong enough to manage that. He swallows before speaking.

"It would appear that you and Michael have been gossiping behind my back like a couple of old hens...how very impolite."

"Vincent, you can't die," I say in a trembling voice. "You're supposed to be the badass vampire. The oldest one, remember? Everyone is just a child compared to you!"

"It would appear I've become senile in my old age. I dropped...my guard. I'm not kicking the bucket yet, but if I do, take care of Michael, okay? You both, you both take care of one another. Don't let Klein win...he's trying to destroy the world. And with this new weapon...he could. It makes any vampire capable of killing any other vampire, regardless of age and experience. It neutralizes the battlefield...it's a genocidal equalizer. He'll have my entire kind under his boot, and you don't want to see what a vampire army can do. They'll destroy the slayers, the tribe, everything. Klein doesn't respect the balance...he'll suck all of humanity dry. The world will die."

I feel my body shake nervously. The tears are pouring out of my eyes uncontrollably. I'm that scared little child in my mother's kitchen again. I'm completely helpless. Klein would take another person I cared about and I can't do a thing to stop him.

"You can't leave me," I plead with Vincent. "And we aren't a duo. This stopped being the Vincent and Michael show the minute you two pulled me into your lives. You said you loved me! Do you really? Or are you really just a lying, manipulative bloodsucker?!"

"I am in love with you," Vincent says with a weak smile as his eyes browse my face.

"Then prove it, you rotten bastard," I demand angrily. "Prove to me that you're not being controlled by my stupid keeper mojo. Prove to me that you actually love me for me. Stay here with me. Don't let Klein win. Don't leave me!"

"It's easy to scream when you don't have mortal injuries," he replies softly as he continues to look me over. "Tone down the volume, Goldilocks; you're killing me here."

"No, I'm not killing you," I correct tenaciously. "I'm not the one that did this to you. Klein did. And you're letting him win. Think about how smug you can be after you destroy Klein's little plan. Think about how much booze you'll be downing in celebration. You'll destroy the Coronam. You'll make Isabella and me very proud! Stay with me, stay for love. Stay for Michael. Stay for me! You're so willing to let go! I demand of you, Vincenzo! Now wake up, damn it!"

"It's possible that I'm just not used to pain," Vincent says as he slowly moves his head around to examine his body. "I can't move. It burns all over. I haven't felt pain...in a very long time. I'll stay with you as long as I can. But I make no promises."

"Then you're nothing but a coward," I say in protest. "Michael will be back here soon; don't you care about us anymore?"

Vincent takes a deep breath and sighs. I feel his hand tighten around my own. He uses his other hand to prop himself up against the corner of the sofa.

"Stay for you, then?" Vincent muses softly. "I'm not one for promises; I don't have the stomach for it. Then you have to keep them, of course. But I'll hang around a little longer. So, you have my word. I promise to you to never leave your side, lest death claim either of us."

"Must you be so dark?!"

"Like I said, I don't have the stomach for promises," he explains as he continues to struggle. "If I happen to die suddenly, it would be out of my control. Regardless, tell me all about how you two spent your time together. Did the pup do anything productive? My lord, I can't even feel my legs."

"Stop being such a baby," I scold him harshly. "All you have to do is stay awake. How did you make it here anyway if you were hurt so badly?"

"I flew," he explains softly as he shakes himself awake. "It took all my strength...you seem to have forgotten our talks. When you turn into a vampire, everything is enhanced. That includes pain. When you get to where I was in life, you feel invincible. I really haven't felt pain in centuries, maybe more. It's all a bit hazy and I'm woozy right now. That rat bastard Klein though...if I do live, I will have to take his head. Did the Hela work on Michael? Was he in pain from touching it?"

"I don't know," I admit frankly. "I was too busy worrying about you. It was gory; I wasn't ready for it. Besides, I don't think Michael would've noticed; he was way too focused."

Vincent nods as he continues to try to move his limbs with little success. He grunts in frustration and curses under his breath.

"Your mother," he begins after failing to move. "She's a real looker. She's the source of your pretty face, I take it? I mean, your father is good-looking I guess, but I'm not into guys."

He laughs before the pain causes him to stop. He again curses under his breath at his failings. As much as I want Vincent to tell me everything about my mother, I can't think of anything other than Vincent's wellbeing.

"She looked even younger than you," he continues. "I suppose that's why she couldn't come back to face your father. I was able to read her mind; it's easier for me to do with my own kind. I can do so from quite a distance. That's probably why Klein wants me dead. All of my abilities work better against my fellow vampires...she couldn't stand the idea of charming your dad. And Klein has her convinced she isn't worth spit."

"You kind of told me that earlier," I say as I notice he's losing consciousness. "Focus on me, Vincent. I need you to stay awake."

"Well sorry if I'm hallucinating here," Vincent says wryly. My sharp remark at least stirs him a little. "Damn you're one mean nurse. I need TLC here, woman. Tender, loving care. Where did you get your nursing license from?"

"You're screaming and complaining," I notice aloud. "That's good. Must mean you have plenty of strength then. So stop complaining like some sort of baby and buck up. Or keep complaining if that's what it takes to keep you awake. I doubt Michael will take more than an hour."

"An hour?!" he protests again. "What kind of service is this? I'm afraid I'm going to have to see your manager."

"Can you be serious for once?"

"Can you be ugly? No? It's not in your nature," he says softly as he begins to stare at me again. I feel like he's undressing me with his eyes...I blush in response. "I took care of the town. And your father's dream? To have a baby girl...it broke my heart, but I did as you asked. It was for the best. He won't have money problems either, I gave him some of the patents Michael and I hold. He's not even moving either. It would appear he was always himself."

I lift up Vincent's head as I notice he is limping sideways, almost falling off my sofa.

"Thanks for that," he says. "What a sad state of affairs this has turned out to be. We're worse off than I thought originally, by the way. There's a huge, I mean completely _obscene_ reward for our collective heads. Except yours, of course. He wants you alive. It destroyed your mother to know about your troubles."

While Vincent continues to complain, I notice he seems less likely to lose consciousness while he's griping. It seemed that the more Vincent had to whine about, the more lucid and more awake he becomes. Normally, I'd make a joke or two at his expense because of this. But for now, I'm more than content to let him talk about my mother and father. As long as he's alive to tell me about it all later, that's all that's important.

"Of course you realize that this complicates matters even more now," Vincent continues ranting. "Once again, everything falls apart. We're forced to move faster just because some jackass wants us to get ashed. Well, I'll ash him before he has the chance. I'm telling you, we have a good thing going here. And you know what's the worst part of all of this? No matter what we do, that Hela venom will never disappear now. There's no way we can undo the damage Klein has done. I almost wish Cain _was_ real at this point. Maybe he'd know what to do."

"Why do you insist on being so cynical? Why can't Cain be real? Maybe he will care enough to not let his kind die?"

"Cain would be the first vampire," he explains softly, his eyes widening. "He would be the father of our race. That's quite an achievement. I doubt he would care to help his species now. Look at how far they've fallen. Age and experience used to mean something. Now, all you need is this Hela junk and you can bring any vampire, no matter how old or powerful, to his knees. He's also managed to destroy his own agenda because he's an idiot. If he wanted to become more powerful through the use of keepers, why would he introduce something that could allow anyone to kill him?"

"Maybe he's made himself immune to it?" I suggest politely. "You know, you might be able to do that. Expose yourself to a poison long enough, gain immunity over time? What do you think?"

"It's possible," Vincent conjectures with a wide frown. "But this is a poison that affects vampires...you'd think there would be a supernatural component to it. I don't know if there's a scientific process to it; if there is, we might be able to reverse the effects by making an antidote. We could administer that antidote to the entire vampire kingdom..."

"There you go, stop being so negative," I reassure him. "Tell me about whatever you want to talk about. But just stay positive, and stay awake."

"Awake and positive?" Vincent muses to himself. "You suggested I kept complaining to keep myself awake, correct? Well, let's talk about Cain then."

"Cain? I thought you hated the very idea of him?"

"Oh, but I do," he says. Perhaps the hallucinations haven't stopped just yet. "But see, that's the trick. I'll try to be upbeat and happy by thinking Cain will swoop in and save his people, but then I'll also be making myself sick when I realize I'm talking about a fairy tale."

"Whatever works, I guess. You really think in a weird way, though..."

"After a couple lifetimes, you realize your little idiosyncrasies," he points out. "There's a lot of loneliness to eternity. After a while, you start talking to yourself a lot, and, well, you get to know yourself. Anyhow, Cain...he was introduced in the Book of Genesis; he's literally the brother of Abel."

"I remember, you mentioned it earlier. But are you serious? That's...pretty crazy."

"Yeah, I know," Vincent says with his signature smirk. "That's why I hate the story so much. There's only so much I can believe. Anyhow, like I was trying to say, so Cain supposedly kills his brother, Abel, right? And then God himself speaks to him. The motive behind Abel's murder has varied with every passing decade, but when God confronts him, he supposedly asks Cain 'where is your brother?' And Cain, being a badass bad boy, says 'I don't know, what am I, my brother's keeper?' Then the Bible goes on to talk about God's wrath. Actually, do you have a Bible? Read it yourself, and read it to me if you would, please. It's been a while."

"Yeah, I have a Bible," I answer awkwardly. Kind of strange request for a vampire to make. "Won't the cross and book burn you or something?"

"This is exactly the type of stereotyping I'm sick and tired of," Vincent exclaims in frustration. "Would you do me a favor and grab the book? I'm dying here, might as well do my last rites if I need them."

"Oh would you quit the drama already?" I ask as I get up and go to my bedroom. I call down to him from upstairs. "Don't fall asleep on me!"

"How could I? This couch is extremely uncomfortable!"

"It's a sofa," I say playfully as I come back downstairs and find Vincent awake.

"What's the difference?" he asks me seriously. "Can you tell me the difference between a couch and a sofa? Does anyone even know the difference? Even the inventors of the thing, do they know the difference?"

"My word, are you always this whiny?" I say as I open up my Bible next to him. "What am I reading, exactly? Do you know?"

"Yeah, it's Genesis," he says, showing his knowledge of scripture. "It's Genesis, it starts at 4:9. I remember the gist, but could you read the exact wording?"

"Well, you mentioned the brother's keeper part quite colorfully," I say as I skim my copy. "'And he said, what hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. And Cain—"

"Yeah, Cain cries about it," Vincent says interrupting my reading. "This is the most interesting part here, keep it going, but skip to...15."

"All right..." I say as I see Vincent place his hand over his forehead. For some reason, I get the distinct impression that I'm reading a child a bedtime story. "'And the Lord said unto him, therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. And—"

"That's enough," Vincent says with a childish smile. "Do you get it? The mark?"

"Yeah, I suppose," I answer as I close the book and put it on the coffee table. "God cursed Cain; he was forced to leave his family."

"No, no, no," Vincent replies with a shake of his head. "The mark _is_ the curse. Remember what you read. 'The voice of thy brother's blood.' The earth was opened to receive Abel's blood from Cain's hand. The land would no longer help Cain, 'a fugitive thou shalt be.' All that jazz; it's describing a vampire. I can definitely see the conspiracy behind it, even though I don't believe he's real. I can see why people would think he is. It's all there, in those few sentences."

"You're saying that the mark that God gave Cain was vampirism?" I asked cautiously. "That the earth wouldn't help Cain anymore because of the blood from Abel that was on Cain's hand?"

"Exactly," he says with a smile. "The earth wouldn't help him. This could have easily been mistranslated; I read the original Greek translation. The earth could have actually _harmed_ Cain, which would explain why vampires die in sunlight, unless they get around it somehow. The blood that was on Cain's hand, that was all he had left. If Cain couldn't get anything else from the earth to eat, that would have included livestock. He would have only the curse and blood left."

"That's...eerily convincing," I say as I look at all the details. "And why wouldn't you believe this? You said he would be about what, three thousand years old? Are you that naïve to think he wasn't able to hide from you?"

"I'm naïve?" he says in puzzlement. "I might be wrong, I've said that before. I'm just saying it doesn't make sense."

"They did measure time differently back then," I point out. "Maybe it's like the mistranslations you mentioned. Maybe he's much older than that."

"It's a possibility," Vincent answers cautiously. "If he's real, I'd be a little surprised. But, I've seen some crazy things, so I suppose it wouldn't be such a stretch."

I move his hair away from his face. He turns to touch my wrist with his face. "You smell nice," he says with a soft laugh. "It makes me wonder if it's those keeper pheromones or just a combination of perfume and body wash."

Before I can even answer, the front door swings open and it's Michael with an armful of different items. His expression shows surprise at our closeness.

"Vincenzo, I thought you were dying?" Michael stammers as he exchanges looks between Vincent and me.

"It would appear I made myself out to be sicker than I was," Vincent says with a smile. "And you could say that Izzy helped me pull through the ether of death, as it were."

"You didn't feed on her did you?!" Michael asks in shock. Vincent shakes his head and sighs in frustration as Michael walks forward and tosses a blood bag on Vincent's chest.

"You're an idiot," Vincent claims as he turns to look at me. "Would you please help me here? I'm an invalid."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Michael says as he removes the bandages around Vincent's wounds. "I just didn't know if you could help yourself at your stage. I literally saw your spirit leaving your body."

"No," Vincent says with a grunt as he begins drinking from the bag I place near his mouth. "I was kept awake by Izzy's incessant prattling. After that, all we had to do was wait for you to come through. And you did. At least, I hope you did, 'cause this hurts like hell."

"The poison seems to have lessened the effect of blood to rejuvenate you as well," Michael notes as he begins crushing herbs over Vincent's wounds. "What on earth is going on?!"

"We're going to have to see if this does the trick," Vincent says as he finishes the blood bag and hands it back to me. I'm more than grossed out at this point. "If this works, we have to keep whatever you dressed my wounds with on us at all times. And then, if we can, we have to see if we can figure out the secret behind the poison. See if it's something science can combat."

"But for now, just rest," I advise softly as I wipe away Vincent's sweat from his brow. "Michael and I are going to take real good care of you."

"Hey... Elizabeth," Vincent says softly. It's the first time he's ever called me by my name after meeting me originally back at Jack's place. "I am truly indebted to you. Thank you."

I mouth you're welcome before I notice Vincent close his eyes. I look at Michael and he nods at me.

For now, Vincent's life rests on the herbs Michael has gathered.

#  Chapter 15

He called me Elizabeth. He's never done that before. I wonder to myself if it was his painful struggle with death that caused him to use my full name. Or perhaps it was the fact that I called him by his proper name?

Was it even worse than that? Could he have taken offense at me saying "Isabella and I would be proud of you?" Was that his way of pointing out that he knew we were two different people? These thoughts keep pouring over me, and the fact that somewhere in Vincent's mind there was a strong memory of a woman I resemble so closely...it has my mind completely addled. As for myself, I also feel a mixture of guilt and of shame.

Vincent has been the only thing on my mind lately. I keep telling myself it's because he was slowly recovering, but deep inside myself, I feel I am betraying Michael. The time I spend with Vincent is funny, unpredictable, sometimes downright goofy, and he's interesting. He's seen so much.

But Michael is also funny in his own way. He's extremely manly and powerful, just his presence alone commands respect. He's honest and honorable, always working for the betterment of everyone. He has the entire world on his shoulders at all times.

They're very similar though, despite their many differences. As much as Vincent wants to portray himself as the bad boy, I can see right through his act. He was a good man. And although his tongue is sharp and sometimes too generous with his opinion, he can be counted on in the end. Michael respects me, he treats me like a queen, always. I actually feel like royalty around him.

As a complete opposite, Vincent is always quick to insult me or laugh at my expense. I just...I just don't know anymore. For the first time in my life, I wonder seriously what it might feel like to be drop-dead drunk. I've heard plenty of people claim to "need a drink," and I ask myself if this is that feeling they were describing. But I can hear Vincent's voice in my ears now. He'd call me goody-two-shoes again. Then I would get mad; maybe slap him, while Michael would just shake his head in the corner.

I open up my balcony and step outside. I need the fresh air. It seems like the three of us are inseparable now. As for me, I'm completely alone in the world now, if not for those two. I lean on the railing and look at the moon. I ponder at the vastness of this earth alone...it's very humbling. Just a short while ago, I was that crazy girl who believed in ghosts. Now I'm a member of a secret society hidden from humans. Now I'm the kind of girl that referred to normal people as "human." I am a super.

"It would seem you have a lot on your mind," I hear a deep, monotone voice say from atop my roof. I turn to look but only see a silhouetted shape amongst the moonlight. "Do not be alarmed, young keeper, I mean you no harm. I was just in the area and I figured I would take a look for myself."

"Who are you?!" I exclaim before I slap my hands over my mouth. I didn't need the entire neighborhood to witness this. "Why are you on my roof? Are you with the Coronam?"

The shadowy figure merely laughs. His laugh is booming and ominous.

"No, I have nothing to do with those children," he declares. "I do think however, that it would be in our best interest if you speak softer. I do not wish the werewolf to hear me. He is young and would surely get the wrong impression."

"And what about the vampire?" I ask as I feel anxiety just being in this man's presence. "How do you know about Michael?"

"Michael, he is quite the celebrity," the man answers. "And as far as Vincenzo Della Rosa, he will be completely unable to decipher my presence unless I allow him to. Let's just say he is...a favored son."

"What?" I ask as I try to keep my panic disguised. "Favored son? I doubt you mean that as most would use it. I can't even wrap my mind around who you are. But you _are_ who I think you are, aren't you?"

"That's an interesting question," the man answers casually. "Are any of us who other people think we are? Take Vincenzo for example; he believes in himself very little. He thinks trash should be held on a higher pedestal than him...but what do you think? What do you see? I know what you see inside of him and how it bothers you. It isn't because he is a vampire, it bothers you because of the werewolf, Michael. You truly are a person with an open heart and an open mind. That is why I come before you now and ask that you not reveal my existence until I declare that the time is right."

"I can't betray my friends that way," I reply immediately. "If you are who I think you are, I have to tell them. Why haven't you done anything about this Hela poison? You're the father of vampires, aren't you? You _are_ Cain?"

"I will not deny that," he answers vaguely. "I will merely say that I have been called many names in my lifetime. That was but the first of a very long list...I prefer to go by different ones now, ones that originate less notoriety and attention. However, as the father of his children, what is my responsibility? Is it to hold their hand their entire lives? As you know, we can live a very long time; it would be impossible. I merely watch as my creations act on their own, as a father does. Sometimes I am a proud parent, other times, I must scold my children and discipline them for the greater good of all. This is the second time in the history of our kind that I have had to interfere. I do not mind telling you, I do not like interfering. Last time I had to step forward was when Vincenzo destroyed what he would call the ancient vampires, including his creator. He proved more than capable in that capacity. Vincenzo and I are very like minded, it was a simple task to push him to do my will without him realizing it wasn't his idea completely. All it took was a drop of my blood that went unnoticed in his wine."

The father of all vampires...on my roof. He walks slowly to his right until the moon's light is his only background. All I can see is a swirling darkness.

"Yet in the end, the person he would kill most efficiently would be himself," the voice continues. There is no difference in tone, but I feel a deep remorse throughout my being. "I recognize if it wasn't for you, he would have allowed himself to die from the Hela venom. But you, a keeper who just recently learned her identity, you saved him. You have no idea how indebted I am to you for that. So please young lady, do not fear me. Be at ease."

"How can you read my mind?" I ask in astonishment. "Are you so powerful you can supersede my powers as a keeper?"

"Some, I can circumvent," Cain explains. Regardless of how he speaks, it sounds ominous and ancient. "Finding you, however, that was purely coincidental. Even I, with almost all the time in the world, could not find a keeper if I wanted to."

"And you're not interested in using my powers?"

"Please my child," Cain says with a profound disappointment ringing in his voice. This is the first time I could detect any kind of tone come from him at all. "I have had many opportunities to mate with a keeper before, yet I never did. I do not feel your temptation at all. In everything, there must be a standard, a ruling class. Can you imagine the consequences of suddenly upsetting that balance? I am alone; I have accepted that fate a very long time ago. But I am also free to try to find redemption for my sins. In my unique position, I am alone at the top of the vampire hierarchy. No one could challenge my word, not even Klein and his Hela poison. But if I were to mate, that would change. Two would be added to my number; it would upset the entire balance if my mate and child had differing views."

"So you're just a silent politician hoping to maintain the status quo, then?"

"You could say that," he replies after a brief pause. "I have paved the way for events before for my kind; you could call me a politician... Although I do not like the negative connotations that come attached with that title. No, I much prefer the 'vigilant father' role. You have a very important influence on those two. It is of the utmost import that you lead them on the path that would benefit them the most."

"And for the benefit of the balance?" I ask. I'm surprised he cares about the balance at all.

"The balance exists for a reason," Cain explains softly. "Everything in our world is here for a reason, a purpose. I would submit to you that your purpose is to be the anchor between those two. They have been in need of it for a long while, and here you are. You have managed to make them closer than ever and that is no small feat. If what you truly wish is for the best for them, you will wait before telling them of my existence. You must push my influence on Vincenzo slightly so that he may come to me for help willingly. He must come of his own accord or he will feel used and manipulated for the rest of his days. He knows enough about our ways that he will assume the worst, for it is the vampire way to lie and beguile to get what we want. He has risen above that, but the death of his beloved...it destroyed him."

"You speak of yourself as if you're a god," I point out with a hint of cynicism in my voice. "How do you expect me to push your influence on him? I'm supposed to be new to the super community."

"I would never consider myself God," Cain defends himself, his tone not straying away from his patient and creepy vibe. "You will find a way to do so. It is very important that he trust me. He must seek me alone; my presence would alarm Michael. I do not wish any hostility. I also cannot have my identity be confirmed as real. I am much more influential as a legend. It is not in the best interest of the world to have all vampires looking to me for leadership, for they will find none. They must find their own way or there is no point. They themselves must come to the realization that Vincenzo and I have come to long ago. This world exists as a delicate ecosystem and if one thing is disturbed, it has a domino effect on everything else on the planet. You're an intelligent child; surely you see what I mean. If your distrust in me is so great, I can present myself to Michael. Although I know he's not here at present. I will do whatever you wish to gain your trust, but I assure you, my way _is_ the best way. I have seen what can happen. I merely need Vincenzo to save his people, as he did before. This time, he even has the help of you and Michael."

I wait a long time after he stops speaking before I let myself talk. It's a lot to take in. How can I trust him? Especially after he just told me that it is the vampire's nature to beguile. But my instincts haven't failed me so far.

"You're right to trust your instincts," Cain says knowingly. "And don't worry; I will stay out of your mind if it irritates you so. For now, just keep leading Vincenzo to the possibility of looking to me for help. After all, what could it hurt? And put faith in that boy, in both of them. Luckily, their feud over you has ended, they no longer are at odds over whoever who will win you as a prize. This is good, they need one another. And you, Elizabeth, you need them."

"I don't think they'll really like the idea of this being a love triangle until I die," I say in gentle resignation. "But I'll go with you on this. But you still aren't helping me with much; how is he supposed to find you?"

"He will find me when he needs me most," Cain instructs. His demeanor has never changed from that of a patient teacher whose wisdom isn't to be questioned. I don't feel the need to question him further. "And as far as this troublesome lover's quarrel you find yourself in, that too will affect the balance. I believe that a person should marry only for love, but unfortunately, destiny has called something else entirely for you. It is unfair, but by now, you should know that the world is not fair. Far from it. This isn't to say that you have no decision in the matter, for you do. But it should weigh in your mind when you make your choice. I know that you wish this peace would last forever, but it will not. It is most unfortunate...and eventually you will make a decision to be with one of them. This is predetermined. It is all a part of the balance. But this troubles you?"

"What if I don't want to be a vampire or a werewolf?" I ask in complete shock. I'm used to Vincent's level of bluntness, but compared to Cain, Vincent is delicate with his words. "What if I just want to remain as I am? What about the one I don't choose? How is all of this predetermined?"

Cain turns to his side. The swirling, dark aura subsides a bit and I see the profile of a thin man. He is wearing dark sunglasses and a strange black wide-brimmed hat that was longer in the front than it was in the back. It's still impossible to see his face; it's almost as if the darkness itself was bending to his will to conceal his features.

"After a while, you realize that everything has a purpose," Cain explains plainly. "After living countless centuries, I can tell you that it's always the same cycle. It always evens out in the end. I have a special ability to foresee these changes and it has nothing to do with my curse. Besides, I can see it now, in your heart. It's almost as if it were imprinted in your soul. One of those two will be yours. The other however, will not feel jilted. You have nothing to fear in that regard. Besides, you honestly can't say you haven't thought about it from that perspective before. I know you've wondered what you would prefer being, whether as a vampire or as a werewolf... But that's not important right now. You must make haste and speak with Vincenzo before Michael returns. There is a terrible omen on the winds, I can feel it. It was a pleasure to finally be able to speak with you, young keeper. We will meet again."

And just like that, without even giving me the opportunity to say another word, he disappears. It isn't like when Michael or Vincent moves. There is no afterimage or blur. He is there one second and not there the next. How powerful is this guy?

And for that matter, why can't I _ever_ get a break? I came out onto this balcony for peace of mind, not another responsibility. But perhaps Cain was right...perhaps things do happen for a reason. I can't help but feel comforted by the thought, especially as I think about my current situation with Michael and Vincent. I can see our relationship in a different light now after Cain's wisdom.

For centuries, Vincent traveled alone, jaded, but still guided by an inner light he wanted to leave hidden. Then, eventually, after suffering the tragic loss of his beloved, he found Michael. Michael was a person who was not afraid of showing his inner light. With that way of looking at it, Michael was the Boy Scout everyone makes fun of; kind of like me, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes. And I just complete them by being the happy medium to both of them...

Well, they do say that the triangle is the most solid structure...

I walk back inside after closing my balcony's door and head downstairs. Vincent is enjoying an old movie, a romance set during the American Civil War. I always forget that inside of him lies the heart of a romantic. He smiles as he hears me approach but doesn't turn away from the screen. I wait a little while, letting him finish a couple of scenes from the movie before I finally turn off the television.

"Oh, come on!" Vincent protests loudly. "That movie is ridiculously long! And it was almost over! Why would you go and do something like that?"

"We have to talk," I announce with uncertainty. "I know this isn't a good topic for you, so I never know when the best time to bring it up is. But because of everything that has happened lately, I feel that full disclosure is necessary, more so than ever."

"All right then," Vincent says as he narrows his eyes. "I'll break the news to Michael; after all I'm his oldest friend. I'll simply tell him you picked the better man and better luck next time."

"I'm serious Vincent," I say. I feel as if I'm repeating that sentence every hour.

"Fine," Vincent says as he rolls his eyes. "How can I help you?" Vincent puts on a fake smile and bows his head towards me.

"It's two things, really," I begin, trying my best not to hesitate with any of my wording. "The first is my name. Not my name really, but the fact that you used my name. Why did you call me by my full name instead of Izzy? It felt...weird."

"That was like a week ago," Vincent says in confusion. "You've been mulling over that for a week? Wow."

I say nothing but remain firm in my want. I look at him harshly, almost as if I was scolding him. He adjusts himself on the sofa and coughs a bit, almost as if he were nervous.

"Why did you call me Vincenzo?" he finally asks, breaking the silence.

"I felt like I was talking to a little boy," I say flat out. "I didn't know your full name, so Vincenzo just felt like what would be the closest I could come to calling you by your full name. You know, like mothers do to their children?"

"You? My mom?" Vincent says with a heartwarming chuckle. "That would put me in an awkward position. Seriously awkward. Yuck, I don't even want to think about that kind of awkward."

"Vincent?"

"Alright, fine," he gives up with a sigh and another rolling of his eyes. "My full name is Vincenzo Della Rosa. I was born in a small city along the trade routes from Sicily and Italy, it no longer exists. That's where I first met Isabella."

Vincent begins rubbing his eyes at the mere mention of her name. He bends his arm and then rests his face on his hand before continuing.

"The thing is, I would go back there once a year to honor my father and mother with a bouquet of flowers. There's a strip mall there now...so it would be very strange if I went there to place flowers on top of a minivan. It's also where Isabella's remains, the few I could gather, where buried. I called you Izzy because of your uncanny resemblance to her. But then, the more I talked with you, the more I realized: you're just like her, except you are afraid. You're afraid of being mean, of what people will think. You're afraid of wanting anything for yourself. Be it lust or clothing or money, whatever. You haven't let yourself live a normal life. You'd have made an incredible nun. I get the feeling that you acted the way Isabella acted before life forced her to toughen up."

I inhale deeply and contemplate my current situation. He is willing to open up this much and I'm even asking for "full disclosure." And I can't tell him that the creator of his entire race, the first vampire ever just had a tiny chit chat with me on my balcony? The hypocrisy of it all...why did things like this always land on my shoulders. These were men that have lived for countless years, yet I was to be the intermediary between them? It felt...wrong. And if Vincent ever found out, he'd be crushed. If Michael ever found out, he'd feel betrayed, as if I put our entire "pack" in danger.

"Please tell me why you called me Elizabeth," I say with certainty as I muster back my own treacherous secret.

"I wanted you to know," Vincent begins before stopping himself. He hesitates once more before continuing. "I needed to say it. For myself. This entire time, I've believed you to be the reincarnation of Isabella, but I have nothing to base it on. I don't know if it has ever happened at all. I just feel this.... Bond with you, a bond that's unbreakable. I called you Elizabeth so that I could tell myself that you weren't Izzy, I tried to convince myself you weren't."

"And have you?" I ask, almost dreading his answer.

"No," he says as he lowers his head. "I still believe you are my Izzy from countless centuries ago. Which is why if you do choose Michael, I will remain at your side for all eternity as your friend."

His confession throws a freezing cold dagger into my heart. I myself am a believer of reincarnation, so I can't argue much. Besides, right now isn't the time to admit my feelings on reincarnation. On top of that, after everything that's happened, can I really say _anything_ is beyond possibility?

"How can you believe in reincarnation," I say, trying to push the conversation forward, "if you don't even believe in the possibility of Cain?"

"I don't get you," Vincent answers in bewilderment. "What does one have to do with the other? I'm a conspiracy theory nut, but some are just that, theories. They're not facts. Some are more credible than others, but it's such an odd thing to bring up. I'm afraid I don't follow you."

Vincent's piercing blue eyes see right through me. At least that's the way it feels. I try not to think in case he's having a go at reading my mind.

"I've been thinking about our situation a lot," I admit. "I just feel we should explore all possible avenues, even legends or possible myths. It's been a week and you're still not fully healthy from your encounter with the Hela poison. You've been eating twice a day whereas before, you wouldn't feed for months at a time. And you two aren't any closer to finding an antidote."

"That's not really true though," Vincent cuts me off. "We're closer to finding an antidote; we just have to find the proper ingredients. We were able to determine that there's enough science behind it that a counteragent _could_ exist."

"Key word being could," I point out. "Regardless of that, Vincent, even if you were 100% healthy, you'd still be here. I can't be left alone, you've told me that yourself. And if someone is going to look for something in nature to cure this thing it's going to be Michael, not you. So let's be real. Is there anyone we can talk to that could have a lead on this?"

"No, honestly," Vincent confesses in a defeated tone. "You would think this sort of thing would have been tried before. The slayers have been around forever, at least as long as vampires I'd imagine. Werewolves have been around since even before that. So you would think someone, anyone, would have come up with some sort of attempt at neutralizing vampires, especially with their destructive natures."

"All right, I'm going to look at this like an investigation," I explain. I probably sound like the biggest dork ever, but who cares? "This is the way I used to look for clues to my mother's disappearance. Everything has a beginning. Klein either started this thing or it was around at an earlier time and Klein just stumbled onto that information."

"Nah, there's no way," Vincent concludes with a shake of his head. "Klein isn't particularly the brightest bulb in the bunch. And Bobby? He's a walking encyclopedia on killing vampires. He hasn't seen or heard of anything like this. The name Hela is just one of the many derivatives of Hel, the ruler of the dead in Norse mythology, so no clues there, although the name suits it."

"Okay, so you've got a good starting point," I say as I try to guide Vincent along. "The slayers pass down their information from generation to generation, right? It's their key to their survival. They would have _definitely_ passed on something like this. They just never discovered it. And if slayers have been around as long as vampires have, that would mean you would need to go to a source that predates the history of vampires, right? Is there a werewolf elder right now or something like that we could talk to?"

"Fat chance there, Goldilocks," Vincent says, biting his lip. "The oldest werewolf to my knowledge right now is a pistol called Sarah, and she downright hates me. She has a thing for Michael though...there's no way Michael hasn't tried speaking to her about this, though. He told me he's been grilling all of the tribe for information. They might not like me too much, but they don't exactly want all of vampire kind dead, either. We hold a very crucial role in the super community."

"Do you see where I'm going with this, Vincent?" I ask softly as I put my hand on his forearm. "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. In our world, the one you showed me, is there anything impossible?"

Vincent laughs heartily before shaking his head and placing his thumb to his chin.

"You're going to quote fictional detectives to me now, too?" he asks with another laugh. "One of my favorites also, by the way...but I do get what you're saying. So then, detective, what would you prescribe?"

"It's simple really," I advise carefully. I can't make my suggestion too obvious again. "We count out every possible place for information. The slayers have nothing. The werewolves have nothing. If the vampires had something before Klein, you would have known about it, right? At the very least, you would have been able to find out about it with your vast network of super spies if that were the case. But you haven't found squat. I don't suppose either of you can speak with spirits, can you?"

"Michael can, actually," Vincent says with an amused expression. I'm not even sure if he's being serious or not. "Is that the route we want to take?" He smiles playfully at me. I still have no idea if he's being serious.

"Why don't you have him try, then?" I suggest eagerly as I shake his arm. "And you, you have all these people on your payroll, Mr. Moneybags, why don't you use them? Trace your ancestors. See if you can find the oldest vampire. Maybe that guy left a diary or we can have Michael speak with his spirit. But let's find something."

Vincent swallows hard before sitting up and closing his lips tightly together, deep in thought.

"I suppose it beats staying here watching the same movies for the millionth time," Vincent agrees. "It's better than being on the sidelines. I'll give it a try. It can't hurt...was that all? Did we cover both of your issues, madam?"

"No, there's still the second one," I say with a bit of reluctance. "And you made it harder with our confession...when we first linked minds, I saw a memory. It was your memory, I could feel that much. It was of a woman. But this woman, she looked very much like me. Almost exactly like me...I didn't mean to pry into your mind or anything, it just happened."

Vincent nods his head to himself before fixing his stare onto the ceiling.

"Yeah, memories can be tricky," he says softly. "And you know what they say...your eyes can play tricks on you. Well, so can your mind. I might be remembering Isabella as resembling you because it's been so long. This is something I've tumbled with over and over in my head since the moment I saw you. But the thing is I knew what Isabella looked like before I ever stepped into Jack's Place. I had a perfect image of her inside my head before I ever saw you. Truth be told, I was concerned I just merely projected her image onto you because of my loneliness...but after being with you, moments like these, I feel a connection with you that goes beyond words. It's something I can't describe. I can only say I've felt it once before. It's not something you forget...ever, I imagine. And I felt that with Isabella. On top of that, I'm a firm believer in reincarnation, just like I said...so I guess two and two equal four."

I listen quietly to his words with increasing guilt. I felt terrible about the tenderness of this moment for both Michael and Vincent. I still feel as if I'm betraying Michael by having this moment with Vincent. I also believe I'm betraying Vincent by not having a fair standard and telling him about Cain.

But then, as I think about Cain, I have a feeling of confidence I never really had before. For some reason, it makes sense. I remember Cain telling me that there was no reason to feel guilt over my innermost desires. While Michael and I technically did have a few dates, I'm not his girlfriend; not yet.

This simple truth was hard for me to grasp. I suppose it was my inexperience with relationships...but as soon as I realize that I technically wasn't seeing anyone, I feel at peace with the world. It seems that Cain has at least managed to lift that burden off of my shoulders. For that much, I'm truly thankful.

"Hey Izzy, how about you?" Vincent asks me to snap me out of my daze. His smile could light a room. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

I pause for a bit, but this time, I don't feel guilty about being attracted to Vincent. I've finally come to terms with it.

"Yeah," I say with an embarrassed giggle. "I suppose I do."

#  Chapter 16

It's a full half month before Vincent recovers from the Hela poison to a decent enough shape for him to consider himself useful. In his boredom, Vincent has drunk out what he deems "his" alcohol cabinet three times. Michael tires of making the runs to the store and Vincent is ornery about being locked up. I suppose we are all fish out of water, trying to readjust to our new surroundings and situation.

According to Michael, nature's balance is going completely out of control. Even though injured, Vincent flies Michael overseas several times. Surprisingly, Vincent is happy to stand in as "Vamp Air." He volunteers even when it's not necessary. It allows him to get out of the house and stretch his legs. At first, I take it personally. But then I realize what it must be like. I imagine being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, for a thousand and a half years and then having that instantly being taken away from you. It would be humbling, and for a person like Vincent...well, he doesn't do humble very well, not on the outside at least.

I'm convinced that things were truly dangerous when I find myself alone with my thoughts. The loneliness of _having_ to stay home isn't easy on me, either. It does make me realize that if the guys are chancing to leave me alone, things out there must have to be completely messed up.

One bright thing of note though: Vincent had taken my bait and during one of his trips he jumpstarts the investigation on "ancient vampires." I know he will find Cain, but only when Cain himself wants to be found. That presents a lot of questions for me to ask myself...what are our long term goals, and how will we reach them?

The guys have been so busy lately, or in Vincent's case, drunk, there hasn't been any time to discuss matters. I finally decide that the next time they return home we would have a talk; a long, serious talk about what to do. I'm only just affirming this to myself when I hear the front door open and close. I look out my bedroom door to see Vincent.

He takes a look at me and bows his head before making his way to the kitchen.

"Drinking again?" I ask in frustration. "Aren't you tired of being a boozer? Seriously Vincent, haven't you had enough? It may not hurt you, but it's really not something I'm able to get used to."

"I've had one of those days, Izzy," Vincent says softly as he stops in his tracks to address me. "Michael sent me back here to protect you. We both know that I enjoy our alone time. It's just...a lot to take in at once, even for me. I found out that information you prodded me to look up. It turns out you were right. My spies, as you so lovingly refer to them, found out some really interesting things. Even before my creator, predating him by thousands of years, there were vampire attacks reported."

"Okay, so why do you seem so surprised?" I ask as I make my way down the stairs towards him. "Did you never think this was possible? It had to have crossed your mind."

"It had," Vince answers as he gives up on the kitchen and moves to the sofa. "My creator mentioned older vampires before. It was common sense, after all; we had to come from somewhere. But if my creator ever knew the ancient vampires personally, he sure didn't make it known to me or to any of his cohorts. I had never seen any other vampires outside of the circle of my creator. It was always just him and his friends, never once was a new, older, more ancient vampire introduced to me. That's where my cynicism starts."

"And why's that?"

"My creator was a devout believer in Cain," Vincent explains as he scratches his eyebrow. "I really bought into it at first, but it didn't add up. The ancient vampires were around for at least a thousand years by the time I was turned into, well, me. Yet none of them actually saw Cain. And when I killed all of them...there was no Cain there. The ancient vampires, they worshipped Cain, idolized him. It was almost like a religion for them. But their precious Cain didn't save them. He was nowhere to be found when a newly made vampire killed off his children one by one. That was the second time I questioned whether or not he existed."

"Okay, so we're talking about Cain now?" I ask innocently. I was trying to act ignorant. I think I was succeeding. "What was the third time you questioned his existence?"

"When I was all alone," Vincent says sadly as stands up to look out the window. He's trying to hide his sadness from me, but his voice is drenched in it. "I was the only vampire in the world. I searched for my kind over and over...and I was alone. Completely by myself, the last of my race. I was never told about the werewolves that I would eventually come to meet with their prejudices. But that's another story; they had their reasons to hate my kind."

"You were confronted by werewolves?"

"Yeah, like I said, eventually," he answers with no emotion in his tone. "A very long while passed before I was confronted by them...an entire pack, at that. It was because of the Coronam. The creation of the council caused quite a disturbance in the balance. In the year 999, without my knowledge, a meeting was held by some very prominent vampires. I later found out I was never invited because they feared me. I was the oldest, the most powerful. If I decided against any kind of vote, it would be so. I could have forced them to do whatever I wanted. It was because of this, or at least I suppose, that the Coronam was later formed in late 1000. They felt that no single vampire could rule over their entire kind. With its birth, the Coronam immediately increased the numbers of vampires tenfold. And then, in 1010...they took Isabella from me. It was meant to send a message to all of the brand new vampires that were just turned. If they could poke me in the eye, the oldest living vampire, they could hurt anyone, anywhere. I would have taken my revenge...but Izzy...in her memory I mourned."

Vincent's face becomes flooded in sadness at the thought. It seemed as if every time there was mention of Isabella it took Vincent back to a period which has long passed the world by.

"So the werewolves confronted you because of the sudden boom to the vampire population?" I ask as I try to piece this thing together. I think frantically of how I can switch subjects to pull Vincent out from his sadness.

"Exactly," Vincent explains. "I suppose it made sense. They didn't know about the founding of the Coronam. I explained my case. I told them everything. About Izzy, my ignorance to the formation of the council until it was too late, even about my creator. As I think about it, I suppose perhaps they could sense my sadness. They probably knew I wasn't lying about Isabella...that it was the Coronam itself that had ordered her destruction. So they spared me and would later go on to try to seek the council out. That was a big mistake. They were annihilated I heard."

"All of them?" I ask with a small gasp. It seemed unreal that a group of werewolves could be killed after seeing Michael in action. "You still haven't explained your third reason for your disbelief?"

"That's just a simple matter of mere practicality," he explains as he places a hand to his face. Vincent is still turned away, looking out the window. I can only imagine he is wiping away his tears. I have to try to remember to keep Isabella out of our conversations. "I killed all of the vampires that existed. I searched the world after that, making sure that I did in fact kill all of them. After I confirmed it, it's like I told you before Goldilocks...I was all alone. I know I didn't create any progeny, with a keeper naturally, or otherwise. How did more vampires come to be? If I was the last one left, and I made no fledgling vampires, then common sense made the answer obvious. A person could just turn into a vampire by other means. The Cain theory was just that, a theory. It was a little bit of light in the world of a species that never sees the light. It was faith, nothing more, nothing less. The world was much darker, much more cruel back then. Murderers and rapists could enjoy their sins much more easily...it was hellish. I concluded that my creator must have heard of the Cain legend from others and held onto it to fight the bleakness of the world. After all, a vampire 'god' wouldn't allow all these things to happen to his children. And so I made a rational opinion for myself. Vampires must have come about by some other means I was convinced that vampirism was a form of human evolution, or perhaps a witch's curse, something else other than having a 'father' to the race. It would certainly explain the sudden increase in vampires. More importantly, it would explain how a vampire could come into being without a creator vampire to sire it. I was truly convinced of all of this; it was a matter of simple fact for me. Until now at least."

"Has something changed your opinion?" I ask anxiously.

"Obviously," Vincent says as he turns around. His face shows his annoyance at the information he's received. "The vampire attacks that were reported, let's just say they're consistent. There are no loopholes, not even a hint of the magnum mendacium. So that could only mean one thing."

"The magnum mendacium?" I ask as I try to remind myself. "That was the great lie, wasn't it? The Coronam invented that, right? But they wouldn't be around until 1000 A.D. That means..."

Vincent smiles confidently as he takes a long, provocative stare of my body up and down.

"How I do love my women with..." Vincent begins to say before he stops himself and looks me in the eye. "Brains...anyhoo, yeah, it didn't add up. If the records of the attacks didn't follow the strict code of the magnum mendacium, it would have had to have been one of the ancient vampires I killed. But that was impossible because I knew almost everything about those vampires. I was practically their slave, after all."

"But wait," I say, reluctantly interrupting him. I didn't want to, but this was important. "You told me about how you had to learn all of these new abilities as you got older, as they evolved by themselves. You discovered them on your own. You've made it pretty obvious that you and your creator weren't really close. I mean, after all, you killed him. But now you're saying you knew everything about the ancient vampires? And you were their slave? And Vincent, I hate to poke holes in your story, but from what you've told me, the great lie was created by the Coronam only to inform new vampires in the way they needed to act. Couldn't a vampire just have willfully disobeyed those rules? I don't think one or two vampires breaking the rules is enough to merit this type of distinction."

I play my ignorance off more and more convincingly by the minute. I'm truly ashamed of what I'm doing, but I have no choice. Vincent needs to think this through himself. He needs to come to know about Cain by himself.

Vincent smiles at me before he replies to my ruse. "Yes well," Vincent says before his smile disappears into a professor's stern focus. "I merely left out that my creator didn't teach me anything about what it meant to be a vampire, and he didn't. Do you know why he turned me? He was bored and exhausted of doing things for himself. He saw me and considered me to be 'beautiful enough' to be a vampire, and a slave. But I didn't submit to my fate, not really. On the surface, I was a willing and able servant. However, I never forgot how he destroyed my life. I never wanted this; he just never gave me a choice. So I learned, I paid attention and I remembered. And eventually, I knew enough to be able to exact my revenge and stop their rampage. You see Izzy, at first, the ancient vampires were fine with feeding on the human populace and compelling them to forget the entire encounter. Then, not long after I was reborn as a vampire, it grew boring. They started killing without consequence or remorse. They saw themselves as untouchable, and for the most part, they were. They were together and firm in their sense of purpose. They would never betray one another. The only thing that ever even caused a rift in them was my birth. My creator was alone in wanting to sire fledgling vampires; the rest wanted to be alone. They couldn't risk the uprising, they argued, they were right. It turns out that all it took was one rebellious vampire to kill them all."

Vincent's mouth stays open as he struggles to find the correct words to say. He holds up a finger and begins walking to the kitchen.

"If we're bringing out all of these skeletons, I definitely need a drink," Vincent announces as I hear the opening of a cupboard coming from the kitchen. "So I killed them all, with relative ease. It was almost too easy. In regards to your other questions, the magnum mendacium might dictate vampire behavior, but it doesn't stop there. Remember, the Coronam created it to deflect attention from possible vampires. The common misconceptions of what real vampires are like are all based on that; it was the veil that was pulled over the eyes of all humanity. In other words, there were no myths or falsehoods before that. The attacks of the ancient vampire I was able to track down? They tried everything, literally everything, to stop this 'demon.' They describe the attacks perfectly. They match the profile of a vampire in blood lust almost too perfectly. Yes, one vampire."

"Only one vampire?" I say in astonishment. "Where did your guys get all of this information? How could all of this never have come to light beforehand? Is this why you mentioned Cain?"

"Yeah, one vampire," he answers reluctantly. At this point, it seems Vincent is almost upset at admitting all of his findings. "It makes sense now. The information suddenly popped up. I had been scouring for this type of information for centuries, but it really just showed up now. Almost as if someone were leading me to this. From the descriptions of the attacks, it could only be a vampire, and it could only be one. They began in what is now Africa, the northern part of the continent. From there, it was only one track to follow...as much as I hate to say it, I think it's Cain. I just wish there was proof."

"Oh, but there is, child," a familiar deep voice says from my bedroom. I recognize the voice immediately. Vincent walks out of the kitchen and turns to take a look up the staircase. His face is contorted in curiosity and disbelief.

"You...you're not real," Vincent stammers as he walks in front of me. "How the hell did you find this place?"

"I can tell from your body language that you know who I am," Cain says softly as he continues to speak from atop the stairs. "You have been searching me out. I am here to help you, if you wish."

I watch silently as I feel the tension coming from Vincent. I place my hand on his shoulder, trying to ease him. It doesn't really work.

"I can tell when a vampire is stronger than me," Vincent says with a sense of urgency in his voice. "As we're talking about Cain, I can only imagine you're him. It would take a vampire of such power, after all, to hide from me for all these years. Are you him? Are you Cain? You would be able to understand why I wouldn't believe you if you told me you were?"

I still can't see Cain, even at the top of my staircase and in full light. His body is covered in what I can only imagine is artificial darkness. Vincent however, seems to be able to see him clearly. He seems to be affected just by being in Cain's presence. This worries me quite a bit; I've never seen Vincent on edge.

"I must apologize to you, my son," Cain replies, his monotone voice seeming earnestly remorseful. "I have put you through so much. At the time, I never knew what the outcome would be. I did create your maker and his friends. I was lonely and wished to have amongst me a true family. Others, just like me, that's all I ever wanted. But your creator, he became greedy and ravenous, as did his friends. So I sent you unto them. It seemed too easy? Perhaps because I might have helped a little. Your deductions were accurate; I did create the ones you name as the Coronam. That was my second attempt at a family that was functional. I tried to guide them to the proper way, as you guided yourself to being one with the balance. But now, after another thousand years, our species is in peril again. And I must therefore trust in you again, as I did before. However, this time, my aid will be much less subtle. You have, until now, been unsuccessful in combating the Hela poison. You're right that it will destroy our species, that's why this help I render now is so... _bold_. Take this, drink of me, my son. You will become impervious to the Hela poison. You will gain new strength, just from one sip. All I ask is that you spread my legend, as much as possible without becoming overbearing. Peace must return to the vampire world; everything depends on you and the fear of me coming to destroy those who do not follow the code of subtlety."

"You would have me commit this, one of the most serious of taboos?" Vincent asks incredulously. "How could I drink a fellow vampire's blood? Much less the father of our race? Besides, how can I believe you truly are Cain? If a vampire like you can hide his presence from me, others can as well."

"These are risks that you must be willing to take, my child," Cain replies calmly. "Most certainly, there are many dangers associated with your current endeavor. Is this not just another ordeal you must brave?"

"And what of the blood bond?" Vincent asks suspiciously, his blue eyes hidden by his expression. "You would play me for a fool? A simple pawn in your game?"

"That is a risk, undoubtedly. If you drink from me however, you will know almost all of my memories," Cain explains carefully. "My wisdom, my very soul, some of it will be imparted on you. This is priceless. Your powers will increase exponentially. If you truly value Izzy, then you will do as you're advised."

Vincent looks back at me, his eyebrows raised in suspicion. His concern is evident. The very fact that Vincent looks so worried has me terrified. Until now, I've thought of Vincent as recklessly fearless. He turns back to Cain before addressing him.

"Very well," Vincent agrees. "I will do so. Let's see if your motives are as pure as you seem to imply. Next time, I would ask you to respect my privacy and stay out of my head."

"Yes, of course," Cain replies immediately. A small vial of a dark red, almost black liquid is thrown from the top of the stairs. Vincent catches it and notes the small amount of blood. "I apologize for reading your thoughts; it's an old habit...very hard to break, as I'm sure you know and understand. I cannot give you much of my blood. It can only be you that has some access to my power, but in the end, I still must remain who I am."

"Indeed, it's more than a mouthful at least," Vincent says as he pushes the cork off the vial and drinks it immediately. "I hope you can be trusted Cain. Although I'm at a loss for ulterior motives, it's obvious you have a hold of me. Why you wouldn't force me to do as you wish...is a mystery. I can only pray that you do this for the sake of the balance. Everything depends on it—"

Vincent's words are cut short as he winces in agony before falling to the ground onto his knees. He clutches at his stomach as he begins to grunt in pain. He looks up suspiciously at Cain before falling into another fit of misery.

"It will only be temporary," Cain explains carefully. "I couldn't let you know every side effect of drinking my blood; you might not have taken it of your own free will. And I do need you to act of your free will. You will gain immediate power, Vincenzo. And you will never know what it is to be in my servitude; my blood doesn't bind you to me, not that paltry amount. I needed you to trust me and make the decision with that risk present."

I hear Cain step down the stairs but the shadowy mass doesn't appear to move. I still can't make him out at all.

"This perhaps seems like torture now," Cain continues with a large hint of sadness in his voice. "But you will be able to be reached by me whenever I so choose, a necessary side effect. Our operation must be covert, so I must be able to speak to you, even if surrounded by witches. Ms. Elizabeth, please nurse Vincenzo to health if need be. I will take my leave of you both; my blood will make many things clear for your cause. I will be watching you three; be very careful with your next actions. The fates of many reside on the shoulders of few."

Just like before, Cain disappears from sight without a trace. I have no time to reflect on any of this though. I have to care for Vincent, who is writhing in pain on the floor. I try my best to help him up but he is much too strong and heavy. As he struggles against the pain, he involuntarily tightens and thrashes about, even smashing the floor near him with his superhuman strength. I can do nothing for him but sit and watch as he suffers.

"Michael! If you can hear me, we need you!" I cry out as loud as I can.

"I was already on my way," I hear as I look at my front door only to see Michael. He rushes near Vincent's side and looks at me, dumbstruck. "What happened here? He fed on vampire blood? But...this is different..."

I don't know whether to explain everything to Michael or just leave him in the dark. It all depends on what Vincent wants to do, and that's still up for grabs. For that matter, it didn't seem for sure that Vincent would survive the change. Have I ruined, or perhaps worse, killed, Vincent? Did Cain manipulate me?

Did my instincts fail me? Or was it just one of Cain's many tricks?...

"Liz, what the hell happened here?" Michael exclaims as he tries to restrain a convulsing Vincent. "He's going to bite his own tongue off! Were we attacked? I can smell an unfamiliar scent of a vampire hanging in the air...but it's not like anything I've ever known. What happened?"

I look at Michael before looking at Vincent's face. Michael is understandably upset and concerned. But Vincent; poor Vincent. My guilt feels like a malevolent beast waiting for me to slip and fall to the ground so that it may devour me. I've led Vincent to this by choosing to keep Cain's identity a secret. Even worse, I know Vincent didn't hesitate in drinking Cain's blood only on my behalf. Vincent's expressions and his defensive posturing in front of me while Cain was present told a story all by itself. I can offer Michael nothing at this point.

"I can smell you, vampire," Michael says with a growl, his canines growing in length. "Reveal yourself immediately! What do you know of this? Or did you come to finish the job?"

Michael waits patiently as he defends Vincent's thrashing body. I'm more than curious at Michael's declaration, but I know that if he senses someone there, someone has to be there. I looked around me in case Cain is going to reappear. Maybe he never left. Perhaps he was just hanging around to see how everything would go with Vincent, to see if the small vial of blood would have any effect.

"I won't say it again!" Michael demands, his anger reaching its limit. "I know you're not the same vampire my friend drank from here. You're only endangering yourself."

"Please! Don't hurt me!" I hear a voice call from my bedroom. It was a female voice. I didn't recognize it at all. How much would happen here at my home on one evening?

"Show yourself," Michael says as his eyes narrow and stare at my bedroom doorway. "Do you know anything about this? If you know anything about me, you'll know I don't harm your kind without reason. Are you behind this? Do you know what happened to my friend?"

"No, I just showed up," the female says as I finally see her. She's blonde and looks a lot like...me. I recognize her face from the pictures my father held as he would cry himself into another drink.

"Mom?" I ask in disbelief as I run past Michael and up the stairs. "Is that you?"

The female vampire nods her head slowly before her eyes well up with tears and she reaches to pull me in for a hug. I hug her tightly, afraid that if I let her loose, she'll disappear from my life again. This has to be a dream; a dream after all the nightmares I've suffered lately.

"Lizzy," mom says softly in my ear. "I don't deserve being called that from you...look at you. Look at how you've grown."

I look back briefly at Michael to see how he is handling this and to check on Vincent. Michael is visibly distressed and poor Vincent is still rolling on the ground uncontrollably under Michael's grip.

"The timing of this visit is impeccable," I hear Vincent say as he becomes stiff and stops moving. "And Michael, just so you know, you're the worst medic I have ever seen. You broke my arm at least six times just holding me down, you dumb pup. Don't you know that you're supposed to remove the stuff around the guy having the seizure? So he doesn't bump his head on anything?"

"Vincenzo?" Michael says as he looks down at Vincent. "You're all right?! You had me worried! What on earth happened to you?!"

"For starters, I can't move," Vincent explains calmly as he turns to look at my mother and me. "Also, would you mind too much putting me on something softer? Like a bed or that stupid couch?"

"It's a sofa," I exclaim with tears in my eyes. The moment has me completely elated.

"It's whatever the hell I say it is," Vincent replies sarcastically, agony still lingering in his voice. "If I say it's a giant pigeon, it's a giant pigeon. Right now, I'm saying it's a couch, so it's a couch. I can't believe this crap, I just got to being able to fly again and now I'm right back in the doctor's office. And my nurse is a great, big, clumsy wolf with thumbs. Hurry up, will ya Mikey?" Michael nods and picks Vincent up, placing him gently on the sofa. It's my house, and it's a sofa damn it.

"So glad to see you could join us Mary," Vincent says with a smile as he sees me guide my mother down the stairs. "What took ya?"

"I had to wait," my mother explains. "When you left, security was heightened. Klein didn't care how injured you were, he still wanted the council safe."

"That rat bastard," Vincent says as he moves his head with great effort to look at me. "Well, there you go Izzy. Surprise."

I turn to look at my mother. I am absolutely speechless. She's crying quietly as she looks me up and down.

"It's...been a while," my mother says as she swallows hard. "I haven't stopped thinking about you one single day."

I'm blissful. There's no other way to explain it. I have my mother back. And if Vincent is in good enough health to complain and whine, chances are, he would pull through fine. And Michael, well, Michael I haven't seen hurt yet. Hopefully I never will. The only immediate problem that comes to my mind is Dad. In all this happiness, it's really hard not having him around. I bet he'd have recognized my mother, even if Vincent _had_ charmed him.

"Mom, how did you make it to us?" I ask, still not believing this is real. "I thought...I thought Klein had you. How did you make it out?"

My mother takes a moment to compose herself before speaking. Up until now she hasn't released my hand, but she does now as she moves her hand to Vincent's forehead.

"Vincent was able to charm the guards around the Coronam complex," my mother explains. "Klein made it a point to keep me uneducated in the powers vampires are capable of. But Vincent spoke to me while he pleaded his case with the council. He told me everything that was going on, about how he cared for you. Vincent spoke about Michael too, and that if necessary, the both of them would destroy the entire facility to free me. But that wasn't needed. Vincent was able to teach me how to use a lot of my powers, charm the guards all over the facility, and still talk and fight the Coronam as they attacked him. Vincent, you truly saved my life. I can never thank you enough. I would have been here sooner if it wasn't for Klein's paranoia leading him to doubling the guards. The guards that came were never charmed by you, so I had to charm my own way, as much as I could..."

"You did all of that?" I say as I look at Vincent. Michael is cradling Vincent's head.

Both Michael and Vincent smile as they look at my mother. My mother simply nods slowly. I look once again towards Vincent.

"Thank you Vincent," I say as I grab his hand and kiss it. "You gave me my mother back."

"Yeah, well, like I said. Surprise," Vincent replies sarcastically. "I wish I could feel that, but the truth is I can't feel a thing right now. That had to have been Cain. Look at me, I'm completely paralyzed here."

"I'm sorry, but what?" Michael asks as one of his eyebrows rise up. "Cain? As in _the_ Cain? You drank Cain's blood? How do you even know it was him?"

"Oh, trust me, this guy was not a fake," Vincent explains with a laugh. "This guy's blood was like moonshine on steroids. Huge elephant steroids too. We're talking the good stuff. I know why he had to have me drink his blood now too. It's a great thing we're good Catholics Michael, turns out _the_ big guy is real. And I also know about his conversation with you, Izzy..."

"What? Why does it seem like I'm the only one left out of the loop here?" Michael asks as he looks at Vincent with a puzzled expression.

"Yeah, Izzy here spoke with Cain," Vincent announces. I'm not sure if he's mad yet. "So you spoke with the big daddy vampire and chose not to tell us at all, huh?"

I feel nothing but shame and regret. I'd hoped my reunion with my mother would not be sullied by something like this, but I suppose it was unavoidable when you based your life on lies...I had it coming. Michael's eyes however, are not judgmental. He only looks at me and Vincent without saying a word.

"I understand why you did it," Vincent says, allowing a small smile to form on his face. "But don't do it again. It makes me feel...antsy. Even though, your deception was superb, so points for that. And Mikey, you couldn't pick up his scent? Bad dog!"

Vincent starts laughing with Michael as they partake in what can only be an inside joke. I turn to look at my mother, still not truly believing that it's her. But she's still here. I hope this will last a lifetime.

"I'm sorry to have cursed you with this Lizzy," my mother says softly. "If I had known...I never would have allowed any of this to happen. I swear I didn't know."

"It's all right Mom," I say as I reach in to hug her. "We're together again. You have your daughter back. I have my mother back. That's all that matters."

"I don't feel much like a mother," she says to me, regret hanging deeply in her statement. "I should have come sooner. Klein did so many things...he said so much to me...but I see now. That was just an excuse to keep me locked away. Away from you. I won't ever be parted from you again, darling."

"I wish Dad were here," I say as I begin to cry again. "But I think I might have really messed things up this time, Mom. I didn't know we would ever get you back, I never thought it possible for you to be alive."

"I know," she says simply. "Vincent explained everything already. You did what you could. There was no way you could know...besides, who says that this family is dead? I see two strong young men here and one strong young woman. All we need is to ensure we keep your father single and your mother will snatch him back up!"

She tries to joke with me, but on the inside I can tell she's hurting. And while we could try to rebuild the family, things can't go back to the way they were. After all, my father has been compelled by Vincent already. I don't know if that process is reversible or if it held any side effects. Not to mention, we're in the middle of a war here. And while Mom sees several strong young people here with her in the living room, I only see one vampire, a werewolf and a keeper.

The vampire's weak and incapable of defending himself. The werewolf seems itching for a fight. And the keeper?

Well, she doesn't want to risk losing what little she has just regained.

#  Chapter 17

Having my mother back is a dream come true for me. It's bittersweet, however. Although she is here physically, I can tell that my mother's thoughts aren't.

And how can her thoughts be here? Her life was stripped from her. After Vincent recovers from the kick of drinking Cain's blood, he's more active than ever. Having fed on the first vampire's blood gives Vincent newfound powers. Even he doesn't know what he's fully capable of. He is, however, more practical than ever. He's quick to point out that my mother is a former keeper that was turned and that would be something we would have to explore further in detail. Apparently, not even with Cain's memories was Vincent able to predict the true power of the keeper's mating powers. But at the very least...it means one thing.

It means I have a half brother or half sister out there, somewhere.

But Vincent is also quick to stop any questions I want to ask my mother. It just isn't the right time, he says, and offers no other explanation. It isn't enough for me, but Vincent has changed after being imparted with some of Cain's memories. He explains that what was happening to him can never be fully explained. He even suspects not even Cain could fully understand his transformation. This has just never been done before; the results can't be fully predicted.

Vincent comes to understand that this is why Cain needed him to come freely. Cain knew he was putting Vincent's life at serious risk, yet he still moved on with his plans keeping me in the dark about the possible risks. Vincent isn't mad, he understands everything. He describes it as an enhanced lucidity, completely incomparable to how he used to view the world before.

Vincent might be quick to understand, but I'm not. I'm mad. While it may not be wise to have a bone to pick with the father of all vampire kind, I have a big one. Next time I see Cain, he would at the very least be asked why he would put Vincent at such risk. He might not answer me, because after all, I'm just a young keeper.

But I'm fuming. I can't see straight. There is so much on my plate it's driving me mad. And my mother is here; I could actually talk to her about all these things swirling in my head, she's within earshot. I'm sure if I asked, she would talk about anything.

But Vincent convinces me now isn't the time. His plan is to train my mother in her vampiric abilities in case she ever needs them. All of my questions would interrupt my mother's concentration during Vincent's lessons. I listen to his advice willingly. I know that deep down it's the right move. It's only on the surface that it makes sense to talk about it. But my mother herself is going through her own issues. I can tell she isn't safe anywhere, anymore. Michael and Vincent make that obvious to me by the way they guard her. She's never allowed to leave the house alone.

The boys are once again protecting me and my family, while I only stand around waiting. I can't do anything else. I am just the keeper, after all.

As angry as I am with Cain, I can't help but think about his words. He said I would make a choice eventually. He said that I would become a werewolf or a vampire in time. I hated to say it, but I think I can see what he meant now. It is exactly as Vincent said, too. That lucidity that can only come with having been around the world, seeing events unfold for thousands of years, that sort of thing has to have an influence on the way you perceive events.

And I am sick and tired of feeling like the weak link. Even my mother is now contributing to the "war effort" while I stay home and play house. It's more than a little disarming, and it makes me even want to join Vincent for one of his drinking sessions. I just know that I couldn't keep up with him.

Which I guess brings me to the funny part. For as much as Vincent has changed, I notice he begins drinking more and more, like he used to. For once, that's a nice thing to see. But I'm still completely afraid that I will never see the Vincent I met again...that he will never return. Michael knows what I am feeling too. I can tell. Michael is hurting as well, and that's probably visible to anyone with or without powers.

"You all right?" Michael calls to me as he knocks on my door before entering my bedroom. Speak of the devil.

"No, no I don't—I don't think I am," I stammer horrifically through my response. "I'm not sure I will be, not for a long time. You? How are you holding up?"

Michael slowly makes his way to my bed and sits down. He bites his lower lip and scratches his head. He cracks his neck, a surefire way of telling how nervous he is, and looks over at me.

"I'm...more or less the same as you," Michael answers slowly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's just...I felt you, your emotions, from downstairs. I always try my best to keep them out. It would be like Vincenzo constantly reading people's minds. But sometimes I can't stop myself from sensing the emotions of others, if they're strong enough. It's almost like a protective sense, so that no one can get the drop on me. If I were to be attacked by an unseen attacker, I could sense their emotion, their fighting spirit you could say and avoid harm. But with you..."

"Michael," I say to interrupt him. "You're rambling again. It's all right, I understand. Yeah, I'm trying to cope with a lot. I guess you are too. Trust me, I get it. You sensed me from downstairs and came to check up on me. Thanks, I appreciate it. You're always so thoughtful of me. I know this hasn't been easy on you."

He tilts his head to the side before looking at me again.

"No, it really hasn't," Michael states plainly. "I'm concerned for Vincenzo, now more than ever. I realize now that I was mistaken. I took his pragmatism for ruthlessness. But now I understand he was just being practical...and efficient. Looking back, I worked against that on a constant basis. And now, I might have lost my best friend, my brother, forever. Perhaps even worse, I never managed to apologize to him. Are you worried that Vincenzo drank from Cain?"

"Yeah, I am, and it scares the hell out of me," I say before I make my way over to the bed and sit down next to him. "Is that what you sensed?"

"I'm very concerned as well," Michael says softly. "I tried to sleep, just so that I could pass the time. I didn't want to think about any of it. But I haven't slept in so long, I think I've forgotten how to, if that's even possible. What if Cain's influence is never fully removed from Vincenzo? I can't help but feel ill at ease. What if the Vincenzo we are living with is just a puppet of Cain? The blood certainly has changed his behavior."

"Paranoid?" I ask as I place my arms around his arm. "Michael...you try so much, all the time. You're always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you never put yourself first before others. No wonder you can't sleep; how could anyone sleep with all of this on your mind? Sweetie, let me tell you something that they should have told you before. You're not the only werewolf in the world; there are others. The responsibility to protect the balance isn't yours only; it's shared with you and the rest of the tribe."

"I'm tasked with a special responsibility," Michael says hesitantly. "While I might not be the oldest werewolf alive, I am the most powerful. The others look to me for leadership, but all they can see is a traitor who allies himself with vampires. But it's not just that. I usually plan out our attack plans, but I don't know what to do right now. With your mother safely here with us, we need to lash back out against the Coronam, before they come in search of vengeance. And we don't have the time. We also don't have any idea of what Vincenzo is fully capable of any more. He seems stronger on the outside, but I have no way of knowing whether or not he is thinking straight. On top of that, what do we do? Can we really attack the Coronam?"

"Is that what you and Vincent have been discussing?" I ask as I begin to play with Michael's hair. "Is that what you think is the right move? Won't that cause a civil war among the vampires? It would disrupt the very thing you're always trying to protect."

"I know," he replies. His frustration is easily detected in his tone. "But at this point, something has to be done. Vincenzo believes that confronting the Coronam in full force is what is best at this moment. While I'm concerned about his personality being intact, I do see the wisdom in his plan of action. If we show up, all of us, they'll be intimidated, to say the least. Your mother is inexperienced, but she's learning rapidly. As a matter of fact, they're both out now, training."

"So we're all alone here huh?" I ask, whispering in Michael's ear. "That might be dangerous for the both of us."

Michael turns to me and licks his lips, almost pensively. He exhales deeply. His tanned skin has goose bumps all over it. I guess he isn't expecting this from me. He stares at my lips.

"I suppose it _is_ dangerous," Michael says with a playful smile as he leans closer to me. "But...as much as I want to...I really can't. Not until we're sure of what you want. Not until I'm sure it's real."

I nod in understanding. I've felt so lonely lately, and here is Michael. Finally he has some time to spare with me because all of his other duties are complete. And here I am, falling into temptation. What I should really be doing is taking this time to get to know Michael better and try to be there for him while he's in pain. We could both be there for one another.

"I feel happy when I'm around you, Liz," Michael says, seemingly out of nowhere. "It's like you say, I do feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. But my burden seems much lighter when I'm with you. You make it all worth it."

I lean in and wrap my arms around his stomach, as much as I can, anyway. His muscular frame is much wider than I can reach. I lay down, placing my head on his lap.

"So this is really going to happen, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he answers sadly. "I don't see any other way. In the last week, I've had to deal with numerous supers. Three shapeshifters, a wendigo, and an incident involving sirens. They're all on edge. They're worried about the Coronam. They believe they're making a play for dominance over the world, and they're right. Now that we have you and your mother here, they're going to come after you. Also, your mother mentioned something in passing. She said that Klein still believes that she could be used to procreate with other vampires, birthing more pureblood vampires. They won't stop until they have you both in their facility. Vincenzo has a plan, though. He believes that with his newfound powers he can scare the Coronam away from their current motives, at least temporarily. It's worth the risk if they'll back down. Nevertheless, the plan has some huge, gaping holes. If we go, we all have to go. Your mother might be learning her vampiric abilities quickly, but she still isn't experienced in combat. She can't be left back here to protect you."

"Do you think it'll work? Is it the best chance we've got?"

"Honestly?" Michael replies as he closes his eyes and sighs. "It's the only chance we have, so I suppose we don't have a choice. But how do you feel about it? Are you comfortable going into the den of the very organization that's hunting you?"

"If it has to be done, it has to be done. I'm getting really sick of hiding. And I can't take being the weak link anymore. I have to start pulling my own weight here."

"You're very important to a lot of people," Michael says as he begins to stroke my hair. "You do more than pull your own weight. You give many a reason to live. That in itself is probably more important than anything Vincenzo or I can do. You glue us all together and we're much stronger unified. Truth be told, Vincenzo and I have never worked together more smoothly. It's hard to believe, given that we both wish to court you...Vincenzo and I have grown closer than ever in this short period of time, and that's thanks to you. And never forget, you have a mother you need to be strong for. I'd say that's more than pulling your own weight."

"What about the Hela poison?"

"From the pieces we kept to study, we were able to test it out on Vincenzo," Michael answers. "I have to admit that it's a huge problem. But I believe we've solved that problem, thanks to Cain. Vincenzo is now immune to the toxin, and from our early tests, I think we found a sort of...vaccination for it. We just need to find a way to deliver it to all the vampires. We also need to destroy any way Klein has of making it. In that, your mother was able to help our cause tremendously."

"Oh? So what did you learn?"

"With Vincenzo being immune to the Hela poison, it was a matter of simple blood work," Michael explains carefully. "We tested Vincenzo's blood on a fragment of the Hela weapon crystals. It completely shattered and became inactive. The poison was no longer any good. The problem is we can't just inject every vampire with Vincenzo's blood or anything like that. That would essentially make everyone experience a transformation similar to the one Vincenzo went through from feeding on Cain's blood. You can see why that would be a problem. But there is a silver lining. Your mother told us about how the Hela poison was created and Klein has no idea as to how it's made, not the whole process, anyway. It was made at Klein's request, but the Coronam didn't trust him fully. Each member has a piece of the recipe. The way is so secret that all the vampire elders on the council know is what order the recipe is to be applied; as in which elder goes in which order. Then, they step into the chamber one at a time to finish their step of the recipe. And each elder has no idea of what the previous elder has done before him, or what the elder after him will do. This continues until the process is complete and the poison is made."

"How did they manage something like that?"

"Your mother said that Klein had a group of human scientists, along with some witches and slayers, commissioned to work on this project," Michael says with a shake of his head. "They all came up with the poison from something Klein had found and dug up. These witches were pretty old for their race. And the slayers, they come from one of the most respected and experienced clan...it's shameful what they did. However, the process was forever lost when the poison was created and the recipe was divided up amongst all the elders. As soon as everything was explained to each vampire elder individually, they slaughtered the research team and destroyed Klein's notes that led to the poison in the first place. Klein wasn't prepared for any of this. I guess he thought he had the council more firmly held in fear. Klein doesn't seem powerful enough at this moment to forcibly exert dominance over the council—while it's united, anyway. He's still bullying other council members whenever he can catch them alone, however."

"But that's great for us, isn't it? That means it's not too late? The world isn't flooded with this Hela poison? We can still save their species?"

"Yes, there's still a chance," Michael replies as he kisses me on the side of my head. His warm breath feels incredible on my skin. "We can restore the balance. We just have to move as quickly as we can."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Everything in due time, my queen," Michael answers sweetly as he goes back to playing with my hair. "There's going to be a lot of violence, a lot of carnage before we're able to make it to the main council chambers. From there, Vincenzo will have to charm all of the elders. He believes he can do this now. He'll have to remove all of their memories about the Hela poison recipe. And then...after that, we somehow have to destroy all of the Hela poison that's in their complex. But before we do that, we have to destroy whatever poison made it out of the Coronam's main facility. Luckily, your mother knows about that, too. She really did her homework and prepared herself well. There's only two other places that have the Hela poison. We have to strike at one of these first, of course. Vincenzo will also be able to use this opportunity to test out his new skills and see whether or not he can use his powers of coercion on a large amount of vampires at once."

"So we have quite the adventure coming up don't we, Michael?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he answers sadly. "It might be a long time before we know peace. And we'll have to do some traveling. So we'll have to book us a couple of flights."

"You can't just have Vincent fly me there?"

"No, it's way too dangerous," Michael states as a cautionary tale. "When we move at the speeds we do, we can handle it. Our skin doesn't tear, our bones don't break, even as the wind slams into our body with great pressure. As you are now, you wouldn't survive the air pressure. Your body would literally disintegrate."

"And I'm back to being the weak link"

"No, not at all," he says as he caresses my cheek. "It's actually a nice turn of events for us. I doubt Klein would ever imagine us using an airplane. And it will also give us extra time to plan. We'll book private flights; it'll be fun."

"My goodness. The world really has been turned upside down. You're talking about fun? This must be a dream!"

Michael's face is blushing but he makes no attempt to hide it from me. He just looks at my eyes, almost if he's admiring them. He really is so sweet.

"I've been really busy lately," Michael admits softly as he leans closer to me. "I won't be able to ever make it up to you; time that passes us by is lost forever. Vincenzo has tried to teach me to live in the moment, but I just can't. It's against my character and I've been lectured hundreds of times about being a workaholic. But I think it's time I start listening to him, and my heart."

"This really must not be happening," I say lightheartedly as I grab Michael by the back of his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think we should go out," Michael suggests calmly. "Not tomorrow, not as soon as we can, tonight, right now. You up for it?"

"But what about everything you two warned me about?"

"I know," Michael admits with a nod. "It's completely reckless and goes against my better judgment. That's why I think it's a good idea now. You've been under house arrest for way too long. What would you like to do? A movie? Maybe dinner afterwards? Or we could go to Franco's again? Whatever you'd like."

"Won't Vincent be angry?"

"I don't think he gets angry anymore," Michael says, rather despondently. "I've been pushing his buttons, hoping to get his personality to emerge once again...thus far, I've been unsuccessful. Besides, it's not like you're the only one who's had an abrupt change in their lives. You said the world's been turned upside down? It truly has. I'm the one who has to deal with Vincenzo almost every hour of the day as we plan this thing out. He's never made me feel like I was his equal in experience. Now however, it's almost as if he sees me like a complete child. It's like my five centuries mean nothing to him. For a werewolf to survive 500 years, that's pretty rare. Even with all of our strengths, we have too many enemies. We also have so many responsibilities that we are constantly making new adversaries or placing ourselves in danger. But for a vampire? It's even harder for a vampire to survive 500 years, what with the slayers and the corrupt bureaucracy that runs rampant through their government. Vincenzo doesn't really see time the same anymore. He even referred to Klein as a child, can you believe that?"

"It's obviously the influence of Cain's blood. I've been thinking about that a lot myself. We had such a great thing going here, three friends, together through thick and thin. But now, it's like we're at risk of losing one giant piece."

"Yes, indeed," Michael agrees solemnly. "But for one night, let's forget about all of that. Let it just be you and me. We seem to appear like a bunch of reckless kids now to Vincenzo, why not act that way? Let's forget about the entire world, just for one night."

"I can't believe I'm hearing all of this," I say playfully. "But one thing first."

"And what's that?"

"Stop talking so properly, use modern English," I say with a laugh. "You're driving me nuts with the formality!"

"Sorry," he says. It's easy to see his embarrassment. "English wasn't my first language, and sometimes I forget that the times have changed. I forget that it's constantly changing. You're my first friend outside of Vincenzo. I guess it just never really bothered him."

"Okay, stop that too."

"Stop what?"

"Stop mentioning Vincent," I request softly as I dig my head into his stomach. "Tonight, if we're going out, let's only talk about you and me. Let's really forget about the world. All of it. I'm not used to having a worry-free Michael. I'm used to workaholic Michael, but I think I'm going to like tonight's version better. But he needs to shut up about everything super. How about tonight it's just two people out on a simple date? A young girl who likes a young guy?"

"Very well, then," Michael says with a slight smile. "If I'm being too formal, make sure you kick me in the shin or something."

"Oh, I will," I assure him. "I just hope not to break my foot on it."

"Aim for anything but the bone," he suggests to me as he leans even closer. He's now inches away from my face. "So where should I take you tonight, my queen?"

At this point, I'm not even sure I want to go anywhere. This place looks great to me. But should I give in to temptation? Or should I take some time and weigh my options? It's just a kiss after all, right?

"I can sense your hesitation," Michael says as he moves away from me. "But...in all honesty, I can't take it anymore. I don't want to resist you anymore."

Michael moves back to my face and gives me a slow gentle kiss on my lips. His kisses are tender and gentle. I grab the back of his head and refuse to let him go.

I can say one thing, even though we've both never been with anyone our entire lives, I'm pretty sure he knew what he was doing. Just having felt his kiss almost drives me insane. Even though we share one another for a few minutes, it just doesn't seem enough. And before I know it, Michael pulls away to smile at me. He kisses me one last time on the nose and gives me a hug.

"How about that for formal?" he asks me jokingly.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh of satisfaction. "How about that."

"So, dinner?" he asks me, nibbling my ear. "And after dinner, I have a surprise for you."

"What kind of a surprise?"

"One I hope you'll like," he says softly into my ear. "It's been a work in progress, so I'm not sure how you'll react. But let's not talk about that now. Just grab your stuff and meet me in the car. I'll take you to the most beautiful restaurant we can get to. What do you feel like eating?"

"Honestly?" I say as I grab him by the collar and bite his neck gently. "I could use a bit more of what I just had."

Michael chuckles softly.

So about an hour later, we are finally able to decide on where to go for dinner. I just want a nice soup and maybe pasta with shrimp. Michael, like always, just wants to have himself a big steak. So we pick our restaurant and head off to a little town called Aaron about forty miles away. Ironically enough, even though Aaron is an even smaller town than mine, it has this really classy restaurant that Michael had tried. He thinks it will be the best place for me to get my shrimp pasta, so there we go.

It's a fun car ride. Michael actually plays a game with me all the way there. He keeps popping in music tracks and asks me who sang it and the name of the song. It's kind of silly, but it's definitely fun. When we make it to the restaurant, Michael ensures us the best table in the house and we take our seats and order our meals.

"Wow, this really is fancy," I say in surprise. "I had no idea Aaron had this type of place. Since when did they get so sophisticated and upper-class?"

"I guess it happened because of the school campus being so close," Michael says before taking a bite out of his breadstick. "The housing around the campus is really expensive, so students try to find a place to stay wherever they can if they can't afford living on campus. Besides your town, it's really only Aaron and Mercerville that's close to the school. And after that incident at Mercerville, no one is really interested in moving there."

"I had heard about that," I say as I reach for a piece of bread too. "That was a terrible thing that happened over there...how many were killed in that fire? Did they ever find out how it got started?"

"Unfortunately, fourteen humans died that night," Michael says quietly in response. "I arrived a little late to that one; I didn't notice the jinn's activities until it was too late. The fire was never explained, not really. So they just blamed it on the faulty gas pipes that ran throughout the bottom of the town. It backfired on the city to bring those pipes to light. People immediately moved out and no one would come back in. Although it was a standup move for the city to admit that the gas pipes were old and obsolete, it only served to kill the town. The really terrible part was that it wasn't even the true source of the fire."

"Jinn huh?" I ask after swallowing a piece of bread. "Another species of super?"

"Yeah, they have power over fire," Michael replies. "Scary control, actually. But that's business, so let's not talk shop. That's what we're escaping, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," I say, agreeing. "It's just amazing that simple things like fires that should have normal, scientific explanations actually have paranormal roots. It's really crazy."

"Yeah, I know," Michael says with a nod. "Hey, would you like to try your first glass of wine tonight? You've been really good lately, a glass won't hurt."

"I guess I might as well," I say with a smile before losing myself in Michael's eyes. "It's hard for me to say no to you, after all."

"I have a feeling I know what that's like," he answers almost shyly as he looks back at me, focusing on my lips. "So, just one glass. All right?"

I nod and he orders me the wine. After a sip, I find it hard to believe that anyone can drink this for pleasure. And even worse, how can those professional wine tasters make a living? This tastes pretty bad. I guess it must be an acquired taste, like escargot or something.

"That bad, huh?" Michael chuckles softly. "It's just something you get used to. I didn't like it at first either, and it was a huge part of my culture. They would give it to all the children, even while they were just teething. But if you don't like it, it's perfectly fine too. Everyone needs a hobby."

"You always going to read my mind like that?"

"I don't read your mind, you know that," Michael affirms. "I just can't do it. And I wouldn't if I could. Your private thoughts are your own."

"I know; it just feels like you're inside my head all the time..." I said before trailing off. "It's like you know what I'm thinking almost all the time. You finish my sentences, you...you're just hard to stay away from. And even though I feel like you're inside my head all the time, I never really know what you're thinking. Not truly. But I get the feeling you do know what I'm thinking, even if you can't just read my mind. I wish that for just one day I could see the world through your eyes. You see everything so... clearly. It's always cut and dried with you. You really see everything with an impossible clarity."

Michael looks down and bites his lower lip before looking up. His eyes are narrowed and his voice is low and filled with sadness.

"It's a huge responsibility," Michael confesses hesitantly. "I know I'm like a naïve kid or something like that, at least in the eyes of others. But it's just that I know that every action has an equal and powerful reaction. Sometimes the reaction, the consequence, is ten times worse than the initial action. These are the things that are always on my mind. I'm constantly thinking about the consequences, of how bad it could get if I do something, or if I fail to do something. I just really wish I could be like Vincenzo sometimes, at least in that regard."

"I thought we agreed it would be just about you and me tonight?" I say as I try to pull Michael away from his sadness. "And to be honest, I think Vincent envies you in some regards. So, anyway, let's say you find yourself a wife: do you expect for her to cook for you? With the way you eat, I'd say that's pretty unfair. You can bet I'd never spend my day cooking like that."

"That would be pretty funny," Michael says with an unrestrained laugh. "That'd be crazy all right. But if you were to be my wife, you know how much of an appetite the two of us would gather up?"

"Yeah, that's right," I reply. Everything seems so normal, I just forgot the reality of my life. I can't do normal, it just isn't meant for me. If I do become his wife, I'll be eating fifteen or more pounds of meat a day...jeez.

"How do you feel about all this? We haven't had a moment to talk about it, not a single second. I came here originally for a variety of reasons, but I'm always cautious about keepers. I always had this idea in the back of my mind of how I would combat the keeper's powers, to resist the allure. But I have the feeling you knew that already...and there's more."

"There is?" I ask in surprise.

"I sense that in the presence of Vincenzo and I, your powers of seduction don't really know what to do," Michael hypothesizes as he shakes his head slowly. "I don't know if that's even possible. But the aggression that used to be there, the jealousy I felt, it's gone. But you know what's not gone? The way I feel about you. So, I suppose in that regard, I'm thrilled. I know now absolutely that my feelings for you are genuine."

I breathe in deeply and scratch the back of my neck. I understand what he's describing. Somehow, I got used to having them both around. The temptation that was almost unearthly is still there, but it feels natural somehow. And I don't _need_ to avoid either of them anymore. This entire time I've been admiring both of them for completely different reasons. It's like I'm trying to make the better choice out of both of them...but now, with Michael's statement, it makes me realize that I am free from that overwhelming power that being a keeper brings. I'm free to make my own choice.

But the thing is, I think I'm in love with both of them. How does the girl who had never gone out with a single guy fall in love with two men who were so very different? Is this love? Do I even know what that truly means? Am I just wrong?

Maybe my status as a keeper is still holding me back from making a choice. I just don't know.

After several awkward moments Michael simply nods, as if he understands what I'm feeling. He makes no more mention of it. We continue in idle chit chat until I finally start feeling the wine's bubbles reach my head. I feel unusually happy. Maybe this is why Vincent always drinks. Michael pays the check and carries me outside to his car, not my proudest moment. In his strong, massive arms, I must look like a child to anyone looking. He sets me down gently in his car, fastens my seat belt and turns the car on. He pushes all the vents in the car towards my direction before finally making his way around to the driver's seat. He truly is a gentleman.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have let you drink?" Michael says with a shamed smile. "How're you feeling?"

"I've seen people get woozy off of booze before, but I never thought I would be such a lightweight. One glass? That's awful," I say as I adjust myself in the seat. "I'm sorry, I ruined the evening, huh?"

"Hey, at least you didn't throw up," he reassures me with a teasing jab to my side. "Besides, who said the evening was ruined? It's a story to tell, a pretty good one, too. And also, the night isn't over yet. I want to show you something. Something I don't think anyone was expecting."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Can't say. If I said what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise."

I smile back at Michael and take in the car's nice breeze. Ah, AC. What a beautiful invention.

We drive back towards my house but keep going past it.

"Hey, Michael?" I ask in confusion. "Why did we just pass the house?"

"The surprise isn't at the house," he replies with a grin. "We are almost there. Just a few more minutes. I really shouldn't be showing you this, but I'm terrible with surprises. I can never hold them in for long; I always end up giving them away."

I laugh at Michael's gentle demeanor. Despite his giant proportions, he is truly a tender soul. It isn't long before I notice a mailbox to the left side of the road. That's new; I've never seen that there. To the side of the mailbox is a long winding driveway that looks brand new, yet it's meant to resemble old cobblestone roads. Michael makes a left into the driveway and stops before turning to me.

"I've been busy," he says finally. "I figured we could use this. Having everyone know where we are isn't exactly ideal...and...well, you'll see."

He continues on until the long winding driveway opens up to a beautiful courtyard. There's an incredible, chiseled statue in the middle of an angel that sits in the middle of a fountain. The fountain's jets spray water in an erratic pattern, yet they never hit the angel. Truly a work of art. As if that isn't beautiful enough, a huge mansion stands before us. Michael pokes me until I get out of the car. With my jaw dropped, I open the car door slowly and step out. The house has to be at least three stories tall. It has four towers, one for each corner of this perfectly erected mansion. In the middle of the mansion's roof sits a single lone tower that hovers above all the rest. I'm speechless.

"I had some guys start working on it since the moment you told me about your mother," Michael admits as I feel him walk next to me and sit on the hood of his car. "You don't have to live here if you don't want to. But it was just finished; I thought I should at least show it to you."

"Michael, this is...absolutely beautiful."

"The four corners all are positioned perfectly in one direction," Michael continues. "Vincenzo was always the explorer, and because of that, he wasn't afraid to head to the new world at all. I had a tower built in each of the corners. That's Vincenzo's corner facing the west, in search of the new world. I placed my quarters in the east because of my love of my homeland and of the orient. I had high hopes that we would one day find your mother, and thankfully, your father is safe and still here in town. I thought they both could live in the south part of the home. And because you're the guiding light to all of us, I was hoping you would take the north corner of the manor. As a sailor, I always had to gauge myself by the northern star. You've helped guide me...I thought it fitting. In the middle are guest accommodations, pantries, kitchens, everything I could think of. That really tall tower in the middle was symbolic to me. It stands proud, even against all the odds we face. We stand united and strong. There's a nice lodge underneath it, or you could even climb it and enjoy the view if you like."

"How could you build such a thing? This is truly incredible," I ask, completely befuddled. "Won't they notice us here? This is bound to stick out like a sore thumb."

"I used some very old magic," Michael explains calmly. "Combined with everything I've ever learned from Vincenzo and Robert, I'm sure nothing supernatural will see this unless we want them to see it. Humans simply won't know it's here unless they take the two mile hike it takes to get here from the road, and even then, all they'll see is the statue. I just wanted to give us a place to stay. This can be our sanctuary and our fortress."

"I love it," I say as I throw my arms around Michael. "When can we move in?"

"Whenever you'd like," he says as he brushes some of my hair gently away from my face and looks at me. "I wouldn't have shown it to you unless it was completely ready."

"I hope you stocked my corner with plenty of liquor," I hear Vincent's voice say as he lands down next to me. He's holding my mother in his hands and lowers her feet to the ground. "So facing west, huh? You do know me well. And I bet you knew I would be against you two leaving tonight. And you got Izzy here drunk! What were you thinking?"

My mother looks to me and smiles as she shakes her head.

"Lizzy, you finally took a drink? It took you this long?!" my mother asks before beginning to laugh. "Wow, you really are as much of a goody-two-shoes as Vincent says you are."

"Mom..." I protest at their abrupt interruption. "I'm an adult now."

"Not legally when it comes to drinking," she answers me, still laughing. "Besides, call me Mary. I really don't feel comfortable having you call me Mom anymore. And it definitely won't make sense if anyone hears us."

I'm shocked by the suggestion and I turn to Vincent. Was this his doing?

"She's right," Vincent adds calmly as he tilts his head and faces Michael. "This was a really stupid move, Mikey. I expected more out of you. You're supposed to be the responsible one."

"I wanted to show her some fun," Michael answers as his tone turns suspicious. "How did you know all of those details, Vincenzo?"

"Easy," he answers. "I've been reading your minds the entire night. And no, I'm not mad at the quasi-date you guys had. I just haven't been able to get Cain's mojo under control. It's still me. I'm just wrestling to find myself, as it were. Just have to give me time."

Even after Vincent's short but to-the-point explanation, I'm still not satisfied. I feel like what Vincent did was a jerk move. But whatever, it's hard to stay angry while looking at this house.

"So, are we all going to move in?" Mary asks me. Yuck, it feels awkward just thinking of calling my mother that..

"I'm up for it if Goldilocks is," Vincent says as he gives me a casual glance.

I feel Michael turn to face me. He seems almost aching for my approval. I smile brightly and nod my head.

"Here's to another adventure!" I declare with optimism. "Moving out!"

"Don't be too chipper there, Goldilocks," Vincent says. "We're going to have to buy a ton of furniture to fill this place up. If we don't it'll look like we really shouldn't be living in a place like this. Should we go back home and get you your couch?"

"It's a sofa," I say as I grit my teeth.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Vincent replies as he claps his hands and begins walking. "Off to it then. Come on guys, off to get Izzy's couch!"

"It's a sofa..."

#  Chapter 18

As we all agreed to the move, Michael hires a moving company the very next day. With everything going on, I suppose we all need something to occupy ourselves with. The move seems like a nice change to our recent lives, something positive. Admittedly, I don't have much to move in the first place, and since I'm almost never home to begin with—until recently—I'm not really attached to anything in particular. I have photos and notes, things like that, of my mom and dad. Those are important. But all of them fit in a shoebox. Not exactly the sort of thing you need a moving company for.

Still, Vincent insists that we remove all of the old furniture from my home and place it into what Michael dubbed "Angel's Retreat." Vincent's plan is to buy new furniture and leave it in my old home to make it seem as if people still live there. No one will be the wiser, he says. Michael agrees with his line of thinking.

Now the real tough part: buying all the furniture for such a huge place. Everyone has their own wing to themselves, so the décor of their corner and tower is up to them. But we all have to agree on the other areas we would share. I opt myself out of the discussion as I really don't mind. It's mostly Vincent and Mary arguing over what to get, anyway. Michael has mostly seemed disappointed to have our night end the way it did.

Although if I'm completely honest, my bed does look tiny in my new bedroom. I have to get a new frame and mattress, at least.

"Getting adjusted to your new surroundings?" Michael asks as he knocks on the open door to my room and walks in. "About last night...I'm sorry. It seems we can't help but have our evening plans ruined."

"Not interested in home decorating?" I ask. I'm curious as to how he'll sleep now that he has his own choice. "You're not letting Vincent pick out your room, are you? I feel uncomfortable about it just saying it out loud. If you do let him furnish your room, you know he'll prank you."

"I learned not to make that mistake a long time ago," Michael answers with a soft chuckle. "I don't really mind what he does to the rest of the house; he tends to have good taste. But I already have my wing of the house furnished. It didn't take long to build the manor and when it was finished, I had my room stocked with things I had collected from over the years. As well as some new trappings. I don't need much; I'd sleep on the ground if I had to. I just like to keep certain memories close at hand. I think memories define us, in a way."

"I feel the same," I reply with a smile. "It's refreshing to see someone in this mansion who isn't anchored to their material possessions. So did you have a talk with Vincent? You seemed really different last night when you spoke with him."

"We exchanged words," Michael explains. "He says he's trying to find himself, and I believe him. But in the meantime, he's acting like someone completely different. His arrogance has grown to such great heights that it dwarfs his former pride. As for the trespass he committed on our minds yesterday...I'm not wholly convinced he couldn't control it. I think he might have been able to stop it if he'd chosen to."

"Is this another jealousy thing?"

"No, not at all," Michael answers immediately after my voice trails off. "I think he considers himself omnipotent now. I think he believes we can't defend ourselves. That we need his protection. It was just him watching out for us. At least, that's what I want to believe."

"Is that what you felt?"

"Yes, that's what I felt, but I can't trust my instincts like I used to," Michael explains. "If he absorbed even half of Cain's power, he would be at a level so advanced...I don't think I could detect any deceit on his behalf. But for now, we have to trust our friend. Besides, if he felt like it, he could probably listen in on this conversation we're having now. But I doubt that; he's still arguing with Mary about the kitchen."

"We'll get through this. But we'll have to get through it together."

"I know," he says with a deep exhale. "With you by my side, I'm sure I can do anything."

I blush before turning away to look out the window.

"Sure is something," I say, trying to change the subject. "Thank goodness for the elevators. If it weren't for them, I think it'd be murder on my knees. Every day walking all those steps...yeah, no thanks."

We both share a laugh before Michael comes up next to me to look out the window.

"So you put up magical barriers around this whole place?" I ask inquisitively. "How did the moving people find this place, then?"

"Oh, Vincenzo handled that part," Michael explains in greater detail. "I placed every single sigil, rune, power word, and etchings I know. No super will be able to see the manor, and humans will not see a thing at all...all Vincenzo had to do was compel some of the people that worked for him, out of his network, that is."

Something's been on my mind, and I decide to bring it up now. "What are our plans, Michael?" I ask without hesitation. "What are we going to do? How much more time can we afford to lose?"

"We were going to talk about that after setting this place up properly," Michael answers as he continues to look outside the window. "The idea was to have a meeting tonight, discuss our options. But we're afraid we might not even have that type of time left. We're talking about leaving tonight. It's only a possibility; we'll see how everything ends up after we meet with Robert. Things are getting more extreme with every passing moment however. I would prepare for a departure tonight though, as that is the most likely."

Michael shakes his head slowly before continuing, his attention still fixed on the outside.

"With the amount of money Vincenzo is throwing around, I wouldn't be surprised if this manor is fully furnished before sundown. There are very few things a person can't achieve with massive wealth and a vast intelligence network."

"Yeah, no kidding," I say jokingly. "And what about my mother? Will Mary be going with us for sure?"

"Right now, I'd have to answer yes," Michael responds with some reluctance etched on his face. "I don't want to put anyone in that position, but it's not like we have a choice. We only moved a dozen miles away from your original home. And while I do have magic guarding us from all manner of threats, we don't want our new location to ever be revealed. Besides, Vincenzo has stated that she is more than powerful enough to combat any vampire we might encounter. And it's not like we can just leave the two of you here, is it? Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

"No, I need to see everything for myself," I affirm firmly. "It's something I have to see through to the end. I just wish I knew what I was going to see. So we're really heading to the Coronam, huh? And then? From there?"

Michael turns away and lowers his head. He shakes it slowly as he exhales deeply. He seems very unsure.

"I wish I knew," he answers candidly. "Unfortunately, I don't. I know for a fact that we will go there with one objective intact, destroying the Hela poison. This is a must for the entirety of the vampire species. Though they _are_ a predatory species, their part in the ecosystem of the world is undeniable...they're one of the more feared supers, and as such, they keep other, lesser supers in check. These lesser supers would run rampant if it wasn't for the vampires. Humanity would be destroyed in the chaos...but that's neither here nor there, really. I'd rather focus on telling you what I'm sure of at the moment. Remember the other two complexes that manufacture the Hela poison we spoke about not too long ago? We're hitting those two facilities first, and then heading straight to the Coronam compound. We want to try to convince the other elders that Klein only works towards his own ends, but if that proves unsuccessful, combat will surely erupt."

"But how can we go straight from the facilities to the Coronam chambers?" I ask, recalling what I was previously told. "Vincent can't fly me there, right? If you all destroy the first two facilities, they'll get word of it before we make it to them. Then we'll definitely lose our advantage. The Hela poison will leak out and spread."

"Vincenzo has a plan for that as well," Michael explains. He walks to the nearby wall and examines it as if reassuring himself of its structure. "It would seem he was busy himself. That's why I'm bringing Robert in on this one, just in case. He'll join us tonight, along with his most trusted; then we can discuss our plan in full detail at that point. We need this meeting to discuss how we will separate the teams and who will hit which facility. We also have to talk about backup plans, should anything go wrong. As far as getting you to the Coronam facility, we won't be able to take the private jet anymore either. Due to the escalating dangers involved, we needed to be ready at a moment's notice...Vincenzo stole an experimental jet from the government. It's meant to handle the pressures one would encounter during long distance space travel. I've looked over it myself; it seems more than up to accomplishing the job. It was meant to be used to send astronauts over to Mars at speeds that haven't been recorded yet. Not by humans."

"We're thieves now? Vincent just took the thing?"

"No, it was only borrowed," Michael replies carefully. "We gave the government a nice rental deposit, and the jet is only meant to protect you from the speed at which Vincent flies. He'll be carrying the jet with you inside it. Luckily, the two facilities are not that far away from the Coronam's main chambers. We'll have Vincenzo carry you, Mary, and Robert and his slayers inside the jet nearby the main Coronam complex. Vincenzo and I have to be on separate teams for taking the facilities. Mary volunteered to protect the jet while we accomplish our mission. We'll have to see what Robert feels most comfortable doing when he arrives. You may be best waiting alongside Mary, however..."

"I know I can't do much, but I want to help as best as I can," I plead my case. "Even if I'm just an extra set of eyes. I can't just sit around in a stolen jet while you and Vincent fight an entire facility's worth of bad guys."

"It's just as I said before, you _are_ very useful to this team," Michael reassures me. "Your powers as a keeper might just be what we need. Now that Cain has proven that it is indeed a keeper ability to hide one's presence from the supernatural community, we believe it might be used to protect the presence of those around them as well."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, indeed," he says immediately. "It would certainly explain why we've only run into such a small amount of supers. It makes perfect sense. If you didn't conceal my identity, then the Coronam hit squads that usually chase me would have found me right away, and you as a bonus. I suppose it's a natural, evolutionary survival method that keepers have learned to protect their loved ones, which makes placing you on a team an extremely important decision. If we keep you by the jet, no one will detect Mary's presence. We will also be able to communicate telepathically, as we did before through Vincenzo. You'd be a lookout for us; you'd be able to spy on the Coronam complex without being in direct danger. Vincenzo has gone over the area with a fine-toothed comb...you'll be safe."

"Why not just have Vincent bring my mother, I mean Mary, in on our little telepathic thing?"

"Vincenzo is concerned that Klein might still have some sort of power over her," Michael says with a slight wince. "He's tried as best as he can, but he won't know for certain until Mary confronts Klein in person. Anyway, these are just some key elements to our plan. We'll know everything for sure when we all meet up later on tonight. Rest well though; time is really our greatest enemy here."

I shake my head sadly. I feel Michael's hand place itself gently on my shoulder. His warm hands run their way through the back of my neck and up my hair. He winds a lock around his finger for a moment, then lets it go. He pauses a moment, then excuses himself and leaves.

At least now I know I have a purpose, a function on this team. I don't feel like such a weak link anymore. But how would I go about acting with this new information? And whose team should I go with? Could my mother truly be a traitor?

I shake my head violently, trying to shake off my thoughts. I have a lot to prepare for. I just have no idea what to do. I decide it's far too much to take in. I close my bedroom door and plop myself on the bed. Maybe a nap would help still my thoughts...at least for now.

But things must be dangerous if Bobby is willing to endanger his most trusted slayer brethren. My head begins swirling with all these thoughts and worries, and as usual, before I know it, I'm asleep.

I awake to the knocking on my bedroom door. The huge room gives almost all sound a thunderous echo. And to think, I haven't even explored any of the other parts of my "wing."

"I'm coming," I say, mildly frustrated, in the direction of the door. "Just please, stop knocking. I have a bad headache."

"Wakey, wakey," I hear Vincent's voice come from the other side of the door. "Get yourself dressed and meet us in the main hall. Bobby is here and we've got a lot of things to talk about."

"Yeah, all right."

I rush to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I slept much longer than I'd wanted to, but I suppose I needed it. I quickly change clothing and almost sprint to the lodge, where I see everyone waiting. Although Michael had told me of Bobby's role in this, it's still something to see. A vampire hunter working with not one, but two vampires. On top of all of that, Michael must have instilled a lot of trust in these slayers. Bobby is here with seven others, really an unexpected turnout.

"Ah, now that we're all here," Vincent says smugly as he looks at my direction. "I think I don't need to go over the finer details. I will be the first to say that I don't really like new school vamps, I'm much more old school. These new vampires have no respect for the way things are done, and I'd like to just take them all out. But we can't really do that; they'll just instill a younger, much dumber Coronam in place. So we're best off dealing with the evil we know and all that. Thoughts?"

Vincent takes his time as he looks around the room. Michael clears his throat before standing up.

"I'd like to thank the slayers for their attendance here," Michael says politely. "Not even members of my species would answer my call. I'm happy to see we can all respect how extremely dangerous this situation is. In thanks to that, I'd like to keep Robert and your kinsmen as far away from danger as possible."

Bobby nods his head before turning to look at the expression of his family members.

"Mike, I gotta tell ya, I ain't liking this one bit," Bobby announces as he eyes my mother. "This thing here could blow up in all of our faces, make us all look foolish. But we ain't fast on forgetting favors. My family owes ya'll a big heap, and we pay our dues. Even though, I still think you're damned crazy walking into that place without an army."

"We'll just have to use our notoriety to our advantage," Michael replies calmly. He truly is the archetypal battlefield general: brave, powerful and impressive. "From what Vincenzo learned, there's nothing but fledglings up there, minus the council itself. It seems the Coronam is too afraid to gather up older vampires in numbers. They fear revolt. We'll give them what they want: peace. It might not even come to blows."

"After I rip out Klein's heart," Vincent quickly adds. "I do that, the entire group is going to be shaking in their little fashionable boots. We could even control the Coronam if we wished, but I'd recommend against that. That would lead only to a nice and bloody vampire revolt in the future. Nah, I say we take out Klein and then the council will be much more agreeable. And just think, Bobby, when the word gets out that slayers had a hand in this? Are you kidding? No vampire is going to want to mess with you and your family."

Bobby nods his head slowly. Behind him, his kin mutter in agreement.

"So what's the plan then?" Bobby asks after he assures himself that all of his slayer family is in.

"That's what we're here to talk about," Michael says casually. "Vincenzo and I have to take out a facility each before we get to the Coronam. You've been briefed on the entire plan, really. You all just have to make a choice as to who stays, and who goes where and with whom. I can respect your decisions any which way."

"I'm afraid I ain't too fond of letting Ms. Mary here stay with the jet all by her lonesome," Bobby admits. "Apologies and all. But if it's like Vincent said, we ain't gotta reason to be trusting her. She was Klein's, she might still be his to control. My kin and I stay with Mary 'til the business with you two is over."

"I can understand that," Mary answers with a bow of her head. "I thank you for your honesty."

Vincent looks around the room before pouring himself a drink.

"When we're done, we'll need you to stay with the jet anyway. So perhaps we're better off Bobby," Vincent replies as he scratches his forehead. "This way, we know our getaway vehicle is safe and sound and your slayers get to ash any runners from the facility. The vampires won't be able to detect you; I'm not putting the jet too close to the main chambers. And if all goes well and we finish the first two real fast-like, no one will know we're coming for them until it's too late. That is, unless we completely screw the pooch at the first two facilities."

"Yes, unfortunately we can't leave anything to chance," Michael says sorrowfully. "We'll have to kill every super in the first two facilities. If we don't, we risk them finding out we neutralized the poison and they'll just call up their masters. The Hela poison will be distributed by the time we make it to the Coronam compound."

"Wait, you're just going to kill everyone in there?" I ask, as if I didn't just hear what I did. I never thought Michael would speak in such a way. "I thought this meeting was to discuss whether we should act or not. Now it's turned into a full out assassination mission? Not everyone in there can be working because they want to. There have to be some supers that were bullied into doing this."

"My, my, she does have the open and golden heart, don't she?" Bobby asks as he shakes his head.

"I didn't come to this decision lightly," Michael defends his position. "I thought about that and much more, Liz. Things have been changing literally by the hour...and Robert brought us a lot of information we didn't have. We looked at other options. We even considered sneaking in, but that's impossible. To neutralize the poison, we have to literally kill it by exposing it to Vincenzo's blood. Then it will explode in a loud, violent burst. In Klein's arrogance he failed to notice that the Hela crystals are actually alive. They were taught to only destroy vampires, but eventually, they'll be fatal to everything and anything they touch. This is not a creature born naturally. This is an abomination created by Klein's lust for power. It's very existence endangers the balance"

"I was never told about this," I answer weakly. "Why am I just hearing this now?"

"We didn't know until Bobby saw the crystals," Vincent answers. "He was able to see something we couldn't. The slayers evolved to kill supers, remember? Well, these things were just as foreign to Michael and me as they were to you or any other vampire who saw them. But the slayers knew this was a new kind of super, they could feel it and the danger it posed. Their discovery only made our burden much heavier. We have to go tonight."

That answers one of my questions...we have to go right now. This is much more serious than we'd thought before. I look back at last night with Michael fondly. This could be my last day as me. This even could be my last day alive. But this whole genocidal approach seems wrong. At the very least, it was hypocritical.

"So you're just going to snuff out a life form because it's dangerous?" I ask Michael in near outrage. "That's a little hypocritical, don't you think? How many dangerous life forms do you allow to live because of the balance?"

"This is completely different," Michael explains softly. "In our world, there is always one species to keep another in check. Even my kind, meant to police over all supers, can be killed by other supers. But there is literally nothing that can kill or endanger these crystalline parasites. These things could be the start of a lethal pandemic, and with the way it evolves so rapidly, nothing would survive. The Hela poison was never meant to exist."

I hear what he's explaining to me. It makes sense in my head. But my heart can't help but feel hypocrisy. Why do the vampires deserve to live but not these crystal creatures? I don't know what to think anymore.

Until I remember Vincent on my kitchen counter. I guess Michael is right. After all, the next person that could be victimized by the poison might be my mother. Mom, unlike Vincent, wasn't sixteen hundred years old; the initial dosage would probably kill her. Everything in the world behind the curtain is born to live and serve a purpose. But the Hela poison was created by a lunatic bent on world domination. It was a misguided act by a person trying to harness the power of a god...

"So, Liz, have you made a choice as to where you're going?" Michael asks me, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"I've been racking my brain, trying to decide," I explain candidly. "How far away do you plan to park that jet, Vincent? Will they be able to detect Mary at the distance you're planning? And where the hell are they, anyway?"

"They're in Romania," Vincent explains with a chuckle. "Pretty good joke actually, don't you think? They have facilities all over the world and move around every few decades, but they find the irony of Romania hysterical. Think about it. Everyone thinks about Dracula or Vlad the Impaler and they immediately think Transylvania. It's a little inside joke they amuse themselves with, the cocky bastards. They think it's real funny too. We'll see how funny it is."

I look to my right as I see Bobby's eyes examine Vincent carefully. No one in this room, other than me of course, knows the personal vendetta that Vincent has for the Coronam. I hope no one suspects Vincent of anything sinister because of his demeanor, because honestly, he's intimidating even to me right now. But I know his secret; no one else does. I look at Michael, hoping to find a brighter expression, but he's deep in thought as well.

"So... Romania," I say awkwardly to break the silence. "That's pretty...clever, I guess? All right, so I got the plan so far. My mother and I, Bobby and his slayers, we all ride in the jet. The jet gets carried somehow by Vincent as he flies through the air at his crazy speeds. I can't believe I'm ingesting all of this as normal, but I really want to know. How is Michael getting overseas?"

Vincent laughs knowingly as he turns to Michael and motions for him to explain.

"I'm just going to run across the ocean," Michael says calmly as if this were a simple run-of-the-mill type of thing. "My werewolf form is pretty fast..."

"You're running across the ocean? Of course you are. Why'd I ask? Silly question," I say to myself as I furrow my brow.

The rest of the room bursts into a flurry of questions.

"Wait a second though you guys," I say hoping to ease my confusion. "If you have Vincent flying at supersonic speeds and Michael running fast enough that he can run on the water, won't that cause a colossal tidal wave?"

"Although we are classified by humans as supernatural, there is nothing supernatural about our abilities," Michael explains softly as the rest of the room continues in their uproar. "We were just born this way, all of us are a part of nature. We all serve a purpose to the balance. I suppose you could say human science doesn't apply to us as we work outside conventional human rules. Keep in mind, magic or something supernatural in this case, is just a science that can't be explained yet. I'm sure there's a scientific reason why our speeds don't hurt the world around us, I just don't know it yet."

Michael smiles at me in an effort to comfort me before turning back to the rest of the group. My head is spinning trying to soak in all this information, but I understand some of what he's saying. Everyone in the room though, is still very unsure about the whole thing and the questions haven't slowed down at all.

I pull a pen out of my pocket and try to find some scratch paper in the confusion. I find a nice looking antique lamp sitting on a small round table with a drawer. On the tabletop there's a phone and a notepad next to it. I write my intended message to Michael, explaining my choice. I have faith in Michael and Vincent, I know they have the ability to handle their own. But Vincent's demeanor, his recent encounter with Cain, and the fact that we're dealing with some "Izzy" issues here mean I have to keep an eye on him. I cough as I ball up the paper, trying to be sneaky. I hope Vincent didn't notice. I give it a while before I even think of giving it to Michael.

"I'm going with Vincent," I say as a matter of fact. The room gets eerily quiet as if to let me speak. "So far, all we know is that the Hela poison works against vampires. If, by any chance, Vincent gets stuck again, I'm going to have to be there to pull the pieces out as quickly as I can. If the Hela poison is as bad as you say it is, it could already be hurting werewolves, and maybe even slayers."

"Oh, Izzy, I didn't know you cared," Vincent says with a smug look on his face and a huge helping of sarcasm in his tone. "It's all settled then. Any bitches, moans or other concerns?"

Vincent turns his head and waits for anyone to speak up. Michael is still deep in thought and Bobby has already started talking to his boys about what he wants his "formation" to look like. Mary, Mom, whatever I call her, she's twiddling with her hair nervously.

"It's going to be okay," I say as I approach her. "Trust me; these guys are pretty awesome when they feel like it."

"I know," she answers as her eyes open wide. "It's just; I really don't know how I feel about going back there. A part of me really wants to. Another part never wants to see that place again. And there's more there than just a place..."

Uh-oh. I've been thinking about this for a while but never brought it up. I'm not even sure if I should ask her to continue, but she obviously wants to talk about it.

"You had a child there, right?" I ask openly. I hear Michael's neck crack as he turns to face me. I'm sure he's thinking now is not the time to ask.

"Yes, yes I did," she answers with shame on her face. "A son. I want to be clear with you on something, Lizzy, I never wanted this. I refused Klein for years. But eventually, I gave in. I still don't know why. I suppose I just gave up on being happy. But your half-brother, his name is Simon...he's nothing like you. It all happened so very fast...and Simon grew to adulthood in weeks. The birth was painless; it just wasn't natural, if I think about it. I was only pregnant about a week. The whole ordeal was very strange. I don't want that for you, Lizzy. I've always wanted you to grow up normally, and you did, without me. I wanted you to find a man, have a good life. Give me some grandkids...I know how you feel about these two, and I don't know if I can support you if you decide to actually be with one of them."

"Woah, Mom, we're getting really ahead of ourselves here," I say, trying to slow her down. "I care about them. They've done a lot for me, both of them. And the thing is, Mom, we never really had the choice to be normal. We're part of the hidden world most people consider supernatural or paranormal. And think about it like this—it's how I've come to look at it. There are so many things that would have killed us just for being a keeper and we would have never known why we were being hurt. Bobby seems like a really great man, but I'm sure his kind would have a problem with keepers...we can't run from who we are."

"No, I suppose we can't," she says reluctantly. "We can only hope to be better. You've grown up good, girl. I'm very proud of you. Just be careful, okay? And about Simon...there's something evil about that boy. I hate to say it as he's my child. But I knew it from the moment he took his first steps and started talking...there's very little good in that boy."

"I'm sure the guys can handle it," I answer in a carefree manner. "You'll see, really. It's going to be fine."

"Sweetie, I just want you to be safe," she explains. "I don't know why you insist on going, but since you do, that means I have to go too. And I'm not worried about Simon hurting the boys; I'm worried about him coming after you. He has an unnatural jealousy of you. His mean streak is just cruel and sadistic; he wants to hurt you, honey."

"Well, we won't let that happen," Vincent says as he comes up from behind me. "Do I have your permission to kill the boy?"

"Vincent!" I exclaim in surprise. "What kind of cold-hearted question is that?!"

"If he tries to hurt Lizzy, you do whatever is necessary to prevent it," Mary says without hesitation.

I'm starting to see it now. My mother is technically standing in front of me. But she's not plain old Mom anymore. I think I was just turning a blind eye to it on a subconscious level...I didn't want to see how the pain and torture of life at Klein's hands had changed her.

"I'll do whatever it takes, I will protect her with my life, you have my word," Vincent says with a short bow of his head. "And if need be, I'll make it as quick and painless as I can for the boy."

My jaw drops at the cold nature of this conversation. He's a stranger, but he's still my half-brother. Kinda.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Its gentle touch is familiar, and I recognize it immediately. I turn to face Michael and bury my face into his chest. I subtly place the paper ball with the note I wrote earlier in his hand.

"It's okay," Michael assures me. "Remember, you're the anchor. You've got to keep it together, all right? You'll do fine. This will all be over before you know it and we can go back to living like a sitcom family."

"I was thinking we were more like a trashy reality TV show," Vincent adds. "Think about it. We have two vampires, a werewolf, and a prissy little princess keeper. That's ratings, baby."

It's nice to hear Vincent's sarcasm. It means he's back on track to becoming himself again. It feels better than usual when I slap him.

He just smiles and gives me a mock roar. Mary looks at me in shock. I suppose to her, she can't imagine anyone getting away with slapping Vincent. Well, I guess it's just one of the perks of being me...one of the very few.

"Come on, folks," Vincent says as he looks at his fancy watch before taking it off. "I suggest you make your final arrangements; we've got to get going. They've had more than enough time already."

I nod to myself as I notice Michael reading my note out of the corner of my eye.

"How long is the trip going to be?" I ask out of curiosity. "What's this going to be, five thousand miles or something like that?"

"Don't really know how far away it is," Vincent admits with a puzzled look. "I never really cared to record distances before. You'll be there before you know it, though, no exaggeration. Just make sure you're buckled inside the jet after I tap the roof. It's going to be a real big jump and then an abrupt stop. I'll try to make it as smooth as I can, but I can't promise anything."

I look at Michael in concern. What kind of speeds are we talking about, here? Even if the jet can take the speed, won't Bobby and I get jostled badly in the cockpit?

"He's teasing, you'll be fine," Michael assures me with a rub to my shoulder. "We've gone through the flight twice already. Just ease up and rest in the chair, don't tense up. You'll be fine."

I nod my head and follow Vincent, who is already leading Bobby and the rest of the slayers outside. When I come out of the manor, I see the "borrowed" jet. It looks like something out of a science fiction movie. It's black and shaped like an arrowhead. It also looks very thin for a jet. Could it really fit all of us? Vincent opens up the cockpit after jumping up on the jet's top. The slayers and Mary all jump up to climb in to the cockpit.

I'm now starting to feel really self-conscious. Did they forget I can't do that?

"Need a lift?" Michael asks me. He's been behind me this entire time and I didn't even notice. He really startled me.

"Yeah, it seems like everyone forgot that I don't have any powers," I whine a little in frustration.

Michael smiles at me and carries me in his large, powerful arms. He leaps effortlessly next to Vincent and places me down gently before helping me in to the cockpit. Michael then looks over to Vincent and nods.

"All right then," Vincent begins. "This is your captain speaking, I just got the go ahead from the field crew and we'll be taking off shortly. Your flight today is going to be approximately less than a minute, so do not, I repeat do not, try to look out the windows at all the pretty sights. You will throw up. I'm not kidding. Everyone ready?"

Jeez...just what have I gotten myself involved in now? Maybe I should've stayed behind. But I couldn't, not really. I shake my head as I try to relax in the chair they left free for me. There weren't many chairs here, not nearly enough for all of us. The poor slayers and Mary had to pretty much just hold on. They let Bobby sit down next to me, though, which is nice and respectful of them.

"I ever tell ya I hate flying?" Bobby asks with a smile as he straps himself in. "Can't stand it. It's just not natural. Then again, what the hell is natural anymore these days? I hope your vampire dreamboat over there knows what the hell he's doin' or this is gonna be one real short trip."

Vincent shuts the cockpit and checks it to make sure it's safely secured. From one of the windows I can see Michael transform into his large wolf form. It's always amazing to see him do that, like something out of a movie. With my vision fixed on Michael, I don't even notice the jet lift up and off the ground. But before I know it, we're above the mansion. And then it's gone.

Vincent wasn't kidding either. I'm thinking about how I could possibly defend myself if I get attacked in the facility, and before I even manage to run through one scenario, the jet is being placed softly on the ground. Vincent pops open the cockpit and smiles as he looks down. He reaches in and pulls me up. He nods towards Michael, who is still in his werewolf form.

The slayers and Mary all jump out of the jet and land next to Michael like a big group of gigantic cats. This whole trip has been more than a little humbling. They're all so powerful.

Michael looks up at me and nods, his jade green eyes just as bright as ever.

"We'll try to be quick," Vincent says as he looks around at the group and then finally at Michael. "This is going to be the rally point. If something happens, meet back here no matter what. Since Izzy is going with me, I have to take the jet again. Bobby, I know I don't have to tell you this, but keep your eyes open and your head on a swivel. We're deep in their territory now. I'd recommend a "shoot first; ask questions later" type of approach here."

"Yeah, you're right, ya didn't have to tell me," Bobby answers gruffly as his boys set up a perimeter. "Ya do your end as quick as possible. We're gonna be fanning out, make sure no bloodsucker gets the drop on us. Hey Mikey boy, ya going to run through town like that?"

"No, I wasn't planning to," Michael answers in a much deeper voice than normal. I notice he has a slight gravelly sound to his voice in his wolf form too, it's almost raspy. "We don't need any sightings; there are a few towns along the way to my target. I'm phasing into my hybrid form soon as I get close to the facility though."

"So what, you're just going to run around naked? Looking like a human?" Bobby asks in surprise. "That's pretty noticeable too, there, slick. You're not exactly a small guy either."

"No, I'm going as a regular sized wolf," Michael answers, almost as if he's asking Bobby.

"There's a problem with that too," Bobby says knowingly. "They have a real wolf problem here. If they see ya, they is shooting ya. Understand me?"

"I guess I can't let them see me then," Michael answers as he effortlessly transforms into a much smaller version of a wolf. "If we get a sighting or a story about a wolf going faster than a plane, we'll have to hope it's dismissed as a drunken urban legend"

Bobby nods as he cocks his rifle and then straps it to his back. He pulls out a wicked-looking knife.

"Ready?" Vincent asks me patiently as he notices Michael leaving. "We don't have all day here, Goldilocks."

"Yeah, of course, sure," I reply back as I grab onto Vincent's arm. "Help me down please."

"But of course," he answers me as he lowers me into the cockpit without any effort. "Hang tight, we'll be there in a jiffy. I'll take it slower though. I haven't planned this trip out yet. I wouldn't know where to start slowing down so your guts don't explode all over the place."

"Really reassuring," I say nervously.

"Hey relax, it's me," Vincent assures me with a smile as he closes the cockpit. He smiles at me before picking up the jet.

And once again, before I know it, we're somewhere else. But this place has wrong written all over it.

In front of me stands what seems like an old factory. But it is literally in the middle of nowhere. No roads to be seen. This must be the place.

"Ready?" Vincent asks me as he helps me to the ground.

"Not really," I confess with a slight stammer. "But that doesn't make much difference, does it?"

"Nope," Vincent says with a shake of his head. "Just try to stay behind me. And let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary. Oh, and I got this from Bobby."

He hands me what looks like a modified pistol. I recognize the etchings on it as the slayer emblem.

"It's kind of like a computer mouse," Vincent says with a soft laugh. "You just point and click. I don't know how much kick it has, but Bobby recommended it. Hopefully you won't need it."

"I've never used a gun before, I've never even _held_ one," I announce nervously. Just holding the thing makes me very uneasy.

"That makes two of us," Vincent says as he walks his way to the gate of the factory. "Seriously though, I've got you, okay? You won't get in any situation where you'll need that. It's just an 'in case' kind of thing."

I nod quickly and swallow hard to try to flush my fears away. I know Vincent is serious and I know he wouldn't let anything happen to me. I just don't know if I am ready for what's inside that factory.

I wasn't...

#  Chapter 19

The factory seems deserted. But I know it isn't. I don't know if it's a power given to me by my keeper status or what. There is something in there and whatever that something is, it's _evil_.

Vincent walks slowly to the front door of the factory and looks at me for encouragement. I don't think I offer much, but Vincent opens the door regardless. We walk into the old factory to find that although dark from the outside, it has a little bit of light in the one and only corridor leading away from the entrance.

Vincent walks forward slowly before raising his right hand, signaling me to stop.

"Wait," he says softly. "I can sense them...they're nervous."

"What? Who?"

"There are seven vampires here," Vincent elaborates, turning his face slightly to the right. "I can hear their thoughts. They were warned about us. They were supposed to move all of this out tomorrow, but they got antsy. Gutless bastards couldn't even wait for their master's orders. We're in luck though, they haven't moved any of the Hela yet, but they're going to. And another thing Izzy..."

"Yeah, what?"

"They have other supers here," Vincent replies softly. "I can't tell all of them by thought alone, but they're definitely not human. So hopefully, you can keep your hormones in check." I hit him in the back of his neck as hard as I can with my free hand.

"Stop that," Vincent says with a hush. "I'm not joking. The other supers are here and they're terrified. I think they're being experimented on, but I'll need to get closer. So seriously, just keep it in your pants. We need to be silent so they don't make a phone call. Can you handle that?"

"Just go," I say in irritation. "We have to reunite with the others and I doubt Michael is being this hesitant. And if we need to be so silent, why not use your telepathy trick instead of talking? They're bound to hear us if we keep talking."

"True," Vincent answers me smugly. "But Michael isn't towing a supernatural sex hormone. I could keep the telepathic link up, but I'd rather focus on keeping the vampires' focus away from your keeper pheromones. Just a gentle push so the vampires can't focus on you and your 'gifts' until we're in the clear. But as far as the other supers here, I won't know for sure if I can influence them. I'm not completely in control of the powers Cain bestowed upon me, not yet."

I brace myself at the uncertainty of Vincent's last statement. We head further along the corridor before it splits into five different corridors. I look above me and it would seem that there are catwalks above us, but they seem to serve no purpose. There's nothing to access from what I can see up there. I guess the catwalks are there just for ceiling maintenance.

Vincent tugs on my belt as he tries to pull me back to the here and now. I shake my head before I continue walking. He motions with his head the corridor to take and before I know it, I see what can only be described as jail cells all along the left and right walls. Thick glass panels separate us from the creatures captured here. I ready myself for the worst. As we walk forward, I see an empty cell to my left and a strange creature to my right.

The creature is beautiful in its own way, I suppose. Its hands have four fingers and a short thumb, but they're all webbed together and end in a thick claw. The dark blue creature is huddled in the corner, bearing the appearance of an abused animal in a shelter. It looks at me with a seemingly human face and acknowledges me with a melodic voice. I don't really understand what it's trying to tell me, though.

"You all right?" Vincent asks me as he gets in between me and the cage. "We don't have time for this. There's some really dangerous stuff here."

"I'm fine," I say as I immediately look at Vincent. "What is it?"

"That's a siren," Vincent answers in surprise. "There are all sorts of stories about sailors being lured to their deaths by them. Heard of any? That's one, albeit a beaten-down one. You're not feeling compulsive or needy?"

"If you're asking if I want to jump his bones, the answer's no," I say quickly with frustration clear on my voice.

"That's interesting," Vincent says in obvious surprise. "There are all sorts of supers up here. Don't get close to the cages at all. This siren was trying to get you to fall into a trance; it's what they do. He wanted you to free him. The fact that you're a keeper and this thing is a siren...it's interesting. Sirens are made to lure people, control them. I figured for sure you'd fall for it. These next ones though, they don't sing, they scratch and bite. I'm sure seeing you will reinvigorate them too, so seriously, stay away."

"You're not just going to leave them here, are you?"

"For right now? Hell yes I am,'' Vincent answers me. "There's a freaking bugbear up here, you can't even speak to those things. If I let these loose now with you here, it's going to turn into a rumble. If it means that much to you, I'll come back later. After we're done. One thing at a time"

"Fine," I say as I look back at the siren. Poor thing seems shocked and disappointed. He slinks back to the corner and falls to the ground.

I look forward and focus on Vincent's back. I refuse to look to the side. I truly feel pity for these creatures; I don't want to get them riled up. I hear all sorts of noise as we both make our way past the jail cells, but I stay focused on Vincent's back. Vincent grabs me and places me alongside him, letting me know we've passed the jail.

"They're much farther down the factory," Vincent explains. "I don't sense any more supers other than vampires from here on out. So you see anything that moves, you shoot it if you can. Soon as we finish here, I fly us out of here."

I nod as we continue to walk for what seems like forever. Finally we make it to a bigger, round opening in the factory. Vincent pulls me close to the wall as he examines the area. As far as I can tell, there are three huge vats in the room. I see two men attending the far vat, but I can't account for the remaining five.

"I'm going to try something," Vincent tells me, using his mind. "Don't move at all."

I watch as the two I'm looking at begin brawling with one another ruthlessly. It doesn't take long before the other five appear to separate them. I look to my side and Vincent's gone. I see nothing but blurs in the factory ahead of me. This takes me back to that day in the woods when I was at the mercy of the witches. I point my gun forward, but I really have no idea who I'd be hitting, so I clutch it close to my chest.

Torsos are falling down or being thrown into the vats. It's all over in a wave of screams and violence. The other vampires never stood a chance. I don't know if I'm qualified to make a judgment on this, but it seems that Vincent has become much more powerful. Vincent appears next to me to check on my safety.

"Thanks, I'm okay," I assure him. "How about you? Are you fine?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Vincent says as he examines his clothing. "I did manage to get some on my shirt though...damn, and this is dry clean only. Let me clean up this mess and get out of here."

Vincent turns around and tosses all of the ripped up body parts of the vampires into the Hela vats. He pulls a water bottle containing a thick, red liquid from his pocket. I can only assume it's his blood. With the bottle in hand, he goes to the farthest vat and pours some in. I hear the Hela poison scream in agony before it explodes upwards and turns to dust before landing to the ground. Vincent winces as he looks at me and starts making his way to the other vats.

"You don't smell that?" he asks me.

I shake my head no and shrug my shoulders.

"That's weird," he says. "I think this could actually be used as a gas weapon if they thought of it. I doubt they could repeat the results without my blood, though."

After Vincent finishes with the remaining vats we make our way out of the factory without incident. After the fly back to the rally point, I'm not surprised at all to see that we're the ones running late. Michael is back and even in his wolf form, I can tell he's disappointed as he shakes his head.

"Nothing important, ya could take all the time in the world," Bobby says to Vincent as we walk towards him. "What ya planning anyway? Mikey here said he did his part, we been waiting on ya."

"Don't worry, Bobby," Vincent says as he analyzes his sleeve. "I did just find something out though. I can completely dominate vampires in a flash flawlessly, they do my will like puppets, at least the ones we ran into. Don't even have to look at them, either. I'm thinking they don't even know I'm alive. They won't be looking for me anyway, so we're going to get a real 'oh crap' expression on their faces. It'll be priceless."

"That sounds good then," Michael says as he transforms instantly into his hybrid form. "I'll just walk in and make a proclamation against the Coronam, charge them for their crimes against nature. They'll buy it; they know who I am. Robert, previous plan still applies for you and your team. I want to resolve this peacefully, only fighting Klein if necessary. But if it comes to fighting, tag any violent stragglers."

The slayers cheer at the chance for carnage. Mary still seems on edge. I can't tell how Michael feels because of his wolf face and Vincent seems disinterested.

"All right, when the Hela poison pops, it really pops," Vincent says, still looking at his sleeve. "If all hell breaks loose after that, then whatever, we deal with it. Regardless of who is attacking, you behead his ass. When I destroy that Hela poison, it's really going to explode badly, so seriously, guys, be ready for anything."

We all make our way just outside the perimeter of what seems to be a gigantic mansion. There are people, vampires I assume, posted all around the place. I don't see how we're getting in there without a problem...

"This is us," Bobby says as he and his boys start fanning around the mansion.

"Do you know how you're going to get in there without making a fuss?" Michael asks Vincent. "How much time do you need before I move in with Liz and Mary?"

"Give me three minutes," he answers Michael. "Then head in. We'll keep track of what's going on via telepathy as per usual. Izzy, you don't have to worry about your keeper mojo here. I'm sure everyone here is controlled to avoid keepers under penalty of death. After all, the council wants all keepers to themselves. But, like I said though, make sure to brace yourselves for the Hela to explode. I'll watch your progress if need be."

Michael nods and Vincent vanishes almost exactly the way Cain did...

"Michael, how much more powerful has Vincent become? I mean exactly?" I ask him.

"Powerful enough that we'll be seriously messed up if he gets overwhelmed by the power," Michael replies with no hesitation. "Did he act strangely with you? Did you notice anything unusual in his behavior?"

"No, not at all," I answer. "He's still Vincent; it seems that way anyway. But he took care of the seven vampires in no time at all, even faster than before. I think, anyway; it was just way too fast."

"I see," Michael says as he lowers his powerful head. "We've been fighting, sparring with one another, as part of Vincenzo's rehabilitation. Every time we sparred, he pushed me harder and harder. Finally, I couldn't keep up with him in my hybrid form. I was forced into using my war form, a phase I only enter when fighting off an army of vampires, as a last resort. He could hurt me, even in my war form...and that was when Vincenzo wasn't even fully recovered. I don't doubt that he could do this entire mission alone, if he chose."

"So why bring us, then?" Mary asks. Her face is in total shock. I guess she didn't know any of this.

"It's a good thing, actually," Michael replies with a low growl. "It would mean he wants to prevent bloodshed if possible. It means we still have at least that piece of Vincenzo with us. Are you two ladies ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Mary asserts.

I just nod and walk behind Michael. His hybrid form conceals my body entirely. I'm hoping that when they see Michael and Mary, they won't see me behind him. I don't know if they're going to shoot us on sight or really what to expect. Do vampires even resort to using weapons?

"I need you to be focused," Michael says to me softly. "Don't worry, I won't let any harm come to you."

"You say as we walk towards the main headquarters of all the vampires on the planet," I reply sarcastically. "If I wasn't scared, I would be terrified at myself for not being scared."

"Liz, please try to compose yourself," Michael continues. "I hold a certain amount of respect here, a certain authority. It's true that they want me dead, but they can't announce that to the entire vampire race. Every vampire would try to get a feather in their cap with the Coronam and come after me. When they order those teams to kill me, they do so in secret. As a super, they know that the werewolves exist to keep them in order. They won't attack us on sight, unless they want all of the tribe to come down on them."

"You mean to tell me they'll just let us right in?" Mary asks, becoming even more confused.

"That's exactly what I mean," he responds confidently. "Now that Vincenzo isn't with us, that'll at least let us get inside for an audience. They can't kill us at the gate, unless they've lost their minds."

So things have come to this. What are we really walking in to? I try to prepare myself mentally as the mansion draws ever nearer. There are vampires on the high walls surrounding the mansion. They're aiming what seem to be rifles at us, but they're not firing. We make it all the way to the front gate. I'm as nervous as can be, but Mary seems truly mortified to be returning to this place. Michael, however, walks calmly up to one of the gate guards, only to stare down at him. It's truly an incredible sight.

"On behalf of the balance," Michael says menacingly. "I come to discuss order. Will you respect my station, vampire? These two are with me; please speak with your masters. Inform them that Michael of the Ironskin has a quarrel with them."

The vampire nods and gives a fake bow before sucking his teeth and walking back to the gate. He speaks quietly into a speaker and motions for the gate to open. He escorts us deeper into the house. All around me I see horrendous atrocities being committed. People are being tortured, vampires are practicing at a firing range, humans are being fed on...it's like something out of a nightmare; it just has a snazzy décor to the home. It's like having a blood stain on a Da Vinci original...beauty corrupted by pain...

After an exhausting walk, we make it to the main council chambers. The chambers have a glass roof. It's almost the size of a concert hall. A large curved table is pressed up against the wall. The table is solid and actually hides most of the body of whoever sits behind it.

And then there are the people who sit behind the table. They sit coldly, their eyes overflowing with judgment and vengeance.

"Michael of the Ironskin, what an honor," one of the elders near the middle of the table says as he stands up. "It's been what? Forty, fifty years? Your work must have kept you busy. If we were of a different breed, we might take it personally that you haven't visited us. We _are_ one of the elite species, after all. Some would say we're superior even to your kind, tribesman."

"I don't remember how long it's been," Michael says as he steps forward into the very middle of the chamber. Mary walks closer to me. "It would seem, however, that I should have visited much sooner. Unfortunately, it would also seem that you consider me to be a fool. I didn't come for you Algarus, nor did I come for any of you personally. You all know who I come for."

"I'm afraid I don't know," the vampire identified as Algarus feigns ignorance. "We've done nothing wrong, yet you come here to us on behalf of the balance? I believe you come here to flaunt about your power in arrogance, not justice!"

"You will sit down," Michael commands firmly. "You will hear the charges made against you and your order. And then, you and the rest of the ones involved will be judged. Is there any grievance with that? We can just skip to the judging if that's what you'd prefer. But I don't think any of you want a repeat of that incident...do you?"

Michael allows his convincing threats to linger in the room. He looks around as if he is really awaiting a response. Algarus sits down like a child that's just been scolded.

"No? That's good," Michael says before continuing. "I come here because of the Hela poison. I come here before you all today because of the apparent arrogance of your species. Did you think we wouldn't have heard? Did you really think that little of me and my people?"

Murmurs from the council begin.

"And like I said," Michael continues. "I didn't come here for you, Algarus...I came here for Klein."

A vampire stands up slowly from his seat. Judging from Mary's face, that must be Klein.

"What do you want from me, dog? You dare bring my property back to me as a prisoner?" Klein asks scornfully. His voice emits arrogance and a sense of entitlement. I don't know the guy, only what he's done. But I have a feeling that if I didn't know him, I wouldn't like him just from his voice.

"Dog, is it?" Michael spits back. "What I want from you is simple. I want you to explain to all of the council members here and to the rest of your species why you did it. Why did you develop the Hela poison? I want you to face your entire species, your people, and tell them why you developed a doomsday weapon, which from the very start, was created to kill _all_ supernaturals? In case you didn't know this, esteemed members of the Coronam, Klein has been conspiring behind your collective backs for a very long time. Behind me stand two witnesses of his crimes. One you know, the other is the daughter of the woman you call Mary."

"This is preposterous!" Klein yells out as the council members begin arguing with one another like immature children. "Would you really have this stray come in here and destroy our union?"

"There is no union here," Michael says firmly. "You all have been hoping to benefit from Klein's ambitions. I can understand your ideas; I'm not blind to your goals. I know you all want that power he promised you. Let's not insult one another by pretending these crimes never happened. I was aware of the experiments you did with keepers, but I let them continue as you weren't hurting actual keepers. You were merely trying to artificially recreate a natural occurrence. But now, you've forced me to step in when you created the Hela poison. Did you know that the poison is actually a super in and of itself? It has a consciousness; it's hell-bent on killing the vampire race. But I know none of you would have approved of that. Klein was just inept."

"Can you prove these allegations?" Algarus asks in a shout as he desperately tries to be heard.

"Are you actually validating these accusations?!" Klein protests in outrage. "He's a dog! You would cause me this disrespect over his kind? Think about all of the great things we've done here! One accusation and that's it?! I am a founding member of the Coronam; sit down and shut up Algarus! Your words have no weight here!"

Michael stays quiet as he watches the council suffer from infighting. The council is disintegrating before our eyes. I thought Michael's intent was to keep the council around? Is this a distraction meant to keep attention from Vincent?

"See how he treats his cohorts?" Michael yells at the Coronam. The room silences. "I am here because Klein has been making the Coronam look power-hungry. The super community believes all of you to be readying for a war. The problem is, it's Klein's war. It's not the war of your race. This man is on a power trip and if you do nothing, he will bring about the end of your kind. I can prove this to all of you and I want to do this peacefully. Can I trust in your cooperation?"

Michael watches the council closely as they begin talking amongst themselves in a foreign language I don't understand at all. It's definitely Slavic, but I can't pick up on any of it. Michael seems to be listening intently, however.

"We must discuss this further," Algarus says after the small powwow. "We will confront Klein about this on our terms and deal with the issue. Then we shall get back to you. Please accept our hospitality for now while we speak about it."

"No," Michael says with a loud, fierce growl. "You will answer me now or suffer the weight of Klein's crimes on your entire council."

#  Chapter 20

The air in the chamber is palpable. The energy felt here literally raises up the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. Just what is Michael doing? I watch nervously as the vampire council, in all its glory, falls to pieces. They begin to squabble amongst themselves like petty children. It's really embarrassing, the kind of thing that you can't really watch.

But Michael doesn't turn away.

I have to guess that this was his intention. But Mary isn't too comfortable with this situation. If I have to be honest, I'm not overly fond of it either. I trust Michael and Vincent with my life, no doubt about it. But the thing is, there are so many vampires here. I lost count way back near the entrance. I know the guys were strong enough to take on almost anything. But does that include the entire vampire council?

For that matter, just how strong are these elder vampires that sit on the council? From what I was told by Vincent earlier, they had to be at least a thousand years old...would Vincent's six hundred year advantage truly be that overwhelming for them? Or is it Cain's blood that grants us the advantage?

"So, what will it be?" Michael asks authoritatively, still not moving an inch. "Will you hear the charges and the evidence? Or will you turn this into a bloodbath?"

"Do you expect me to believe that you would endanger the girl?" Klein asks arrogantly as he sits down and ignores the other councilors. The other members stop their arguing and begin to hear him out. "After all, she is a keeper. Do you really think I or the others here would believe you're willing to endanger her life?"

"Her life is in danger as long as you evade justice," Michael replies coldly. "The elders here suspect you, at least, most of them do. I can sense this. They are right in doubting the purity of your intentions. Not all of them will stand with you if I render judgment on the entire council. When this dog, as you so politely referred to me, bares his teeth, you will see your companions turn on you. No one wants to die here today and no one has to. Except for perhaps you, Klein."

The weight of Michael's suggestion is enough to silence the entire room. I have to admire Michael's way of turning the situation around. There is no way these vampires could possibly know if Michael is telling the truth or not. Possible enemies are now rethinking their position ; they're being forced into picking a side and dying for it. It's brilliant.

"If you can disprove the testimony of these two ladies and the fact that the Hela poison is indeed alive, you can go free," Michael continues, still staring directly at Klein. "But as far as being on the Coronam, that is something I can't allow. It's not just a danger to the vampire species and other supers. It's not even a question of the balance at this point. You have been so reckless in your ambitions; you have endangered the entire planet. And regardless of how powerful you think you might be, without a planet, you can't live. The vampire race needs a Coronam to rule it, guide it. But from the shadows, Klein has been pulling your strings and the strings of others as well. Will you risk total annihilation for his schemes?"

"We will hear your case," Algarus announces loudly. His cohorts are visibly uncomfortable but remain silent. "But please allow us to interject as needed for extra information. We might not find your facts as powerful as you do."

The room is silent except for Klein's quick protest. Michael begins to look around the room as if he is searching for something. He stops and takes a quick look at Algarus.

"You should all thank Algarus this day, for he is the one to have spared your lives," Michael declares confidently. "Is there any protest? I find nothing unfair in your request."

Once again the room is quiet, minus the sucking of Klein's teeth.

"Then I shall begin," Michael announces. "I will not try to make this long or drawn out. I'll stick to the facts and my two witness testimonials here. For reasons that are unnecessary to explain, there are certain people I could not bring here that would have also corroborated my story and allegations. One of these people is Robert Stapleton, of the slayer clan Anvil. I am sure you can imagine why his presence in these proceedings would be...inappropriate. I do have a question before I continue. Klein, where is your wretch underling Valerie? She is another person that can further prove your guilt, after all."

"I thought she was killed weeks ago," Klein scoffs as he looks around for support. "I have many pets. If one becomes a stray, I don't really mourn the loss."

Michael smiles. At least I think that's a smile. He nods his head knowingly and laughs deeply. If I didn't know him, I'd be terrified. Michael's hybrid form laughing is the stuff of nightmares. He seems almost...sinister.

"Of course you wouldn't," Michael says after composing himself. "I wouldn't be surprised if you killed her yourself, after all she failed in the task you gave her. This man sent Valerie and a ring of witches led by a brujo, no less, to capture this girl to perform a ritual on her. Thanks to Robert, we were able to discern the purpose of this ritual. He was hoping to turn this girl into a keeper capable of producing multiple offspring. This attempt was thwarted by myself, Vincenzo, and the Anvil slayer clan. Did any of you other elders know anything about it?"

Michael allows the elders to speak amongst themselves for a moment before Algarus stands up again.

"We had no idea of this ritual," Algarus states as he looks back at the other elders. "We have, however, noticed that Valerie has gone missing. There might be merit to what you are saying. But do you have any proof?"

"This girl as you all know by now, is a keeper," Michael says as he motions towards me. "But she hasn't undergone any transformation yet. If any of you possess telepathy, you may assess her mind and find this out."

"Don't let them get in if you can," I hear Vincent's voice whisper to me inside my thoughts.

"Yes, we know of this one," Algarus says. "And we have been trying to get inside her mind since the moment she entered these chambers. However, none of us have been able to. Is this one of your tricks, Michael? Your way of turning this trial to your side?"

"Not at all," Michael replies calmly. "I am known to be honorable and honest even in disputes that might involve blood being spilled. Am I wrong? I would not allow any of you to force your will upon this girl, but a simple sweep of the truth would be fine. I would even allow you to read my thoughts and see what I've seen if it makes you more comfortable, but remember, my mind is my own."

Algarus goes back to the group of elders and consults with them briefly.

"No, that will not be necessary," Algarus states. "It would seem that some of us had suspicions of such an event happening, we just had no specifics on the matter. We will believe this portion of your testimony as fact."

"This is outrageous!" Klein shouts as he loses composure. "You would listen to the words of this rabid creature before the words of someone who has been alongside you for a thousand years?!"

"For someone who has been here for a thousand years," Michael says in a low tone. "You don't smell like it. You smell almost...like a newborn babe."

The council turns to one another in desperation. What exactly does Michael mean with that? There's some sort of hidden suggestion that I'm not getting. But the council elders are definitely shaken by this comment, so they get it.

"I shower and bathe, you dog," Klein states sharply. "It is not my fault that I do not emit an odor you can't detect with your freakish snout."

"It's more than that, isn't it?" Michael replies with a tilt of his head. "There's something... different about you. And even now, you're getting nervous that I'm asking you about this. Why is that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Klein says without missing a beat. If he's hiding something, he's hiding it well. "Is this what the Coronam has stooped to? Listening to the insane accusations of a deluded puppy?"

"It's not just your scent either," Michael continues, unfazed, almost as if he is surprised by what he's sensing. "It's your body language. Your face doesn't have that slight tic it used to have when speaking with me...most interesting."

The council members all look at Michael with confusion. I almost feel bad for Algarus as he tries to act as a middle man between Michael and the council. Algarus looks like he has no idea what to do.

"Yes well, in that regard I can assure you he has been with us almost the entire time," Algarus states, almost stammering.

"Isn't that peculiar?" Michael questions immediately. "You would accept my testimony on the ring and the brujo as fact. But you would find it hard to believe that Klein has gone through some sort of transformation? Why is that? Lack of time? I'm sure he has more than enough time to do his dirty deeds."

"Almost there, Mikey," I hear Vincent say to us. "Just get ready for when this stuff bursts. Tell ya what; I'll even wait for you to say something dramatic that fits."

"I was merely explaining our observations," Algarus proposes meagerly. "I was not making a decision on one thing or the other. You said we were looking for truth here. That's what I'm offering you."

"Indeed," Michael says in response. "I would like to move onto my next point then. The Hela poison. Did any of you know it was a super? It's a sentient being and it has a thirst for vampire blood. I know you managed to find it, Klein, but you forgot to ask the most simple of questions. Not once did you wonder why it was hidden to begin with? There was a reason. The Hela poison is an ever-changing parasite that feeds on the bodies and energies of supernatural entities. You've managed to curb its appetite for now on a strict vampire-only diet. How great is that, huh? You designed your own destruction. And why did you do such a thing? Didn't you know that it would eventually turn on all supernaturals? That it's constantly evolving? It is constantly improving at an alarming rate to become the ultimate vampire killer. And when all the vampires are destroyed, it will turn on another species until it destroys that one. And so goes the cycle, until no life on earth exists. Why would you wish to have such a weapon?"

"It was out of self defense," Klein states with a straight face. "We needed it for our own preservation. That traitor Vincent was working with you against his very people. We knew we couldn't destroy him; that's where the Hela poison came in. He would be destroyed by it and that would be the end of it. We would be free from his ideas of a violent takeover. We didn't have to worry about his continued threat."

"His threat?" Michael asks curiously. "When did Vincenzo ever threaten you or your people? He understands the necessity of the balance. All he ever wanted was for you to rule your people with fairness and whatever compassion you could muster. If he wanted to destroy this council or take it over, as you imply, he could have done it decades or centuries ago. Yet he didn't. Why is that? You should be charged with the murder of Vincenzo Della Rosa as well!"

"I would plead not guilty to that charge then," Klein says with a disinterested smile on his face. He licks his lips and takes a sip from his goblet in front of him. "As I said, we killed Vincent in self defense. He came here like a maniac. He was spitting out theories and hypotheses that had no merit. We all knew we were in danger, so we had to use the Hela poison. It was created as a deterrent, so that Vincent would never try anything. When he came, he came to us to try to arouse our suspicions of one another, destroy the trust we have built upon. This was all in an effort to undermine us and eventually take us over. He could have just petitioned us for admittance and he probably would have been allowed membership in our esteemed group. He didn't have to resort to brutish, thug tactics."

Michael once again begins to laugh to himself as he paces slowly around the front of us, never leaving Mary and me farther than an arm's length.

"I came here to dispense justice today," Michael announces. "And truly, I can't hold you guilty of Vincenzo's death. You are not guilty."

Klein's smile turns into a face of suspicion and concern.

"For you to be guilty of Vincenzo's death, he would have to be dead," Michael says with a short chuckle. "And he's far from dead."

Klein is about to open his mouth to say something when a giant explosion rocks the entire complex. Michael appears next to me immediately ready to protect Mary and me from any threats. But there are none. No one dares to approach Michael; they just scamper around like roaches when the lights go on. Algarus tries to calm the council down as he speaks into his headset. His frustration shows that the headsets are not working.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Algarus asks Michael. His look betrays his lack of control. "What is going on here? Are you behind this?"

"To a degree, yes," Michael says honestly. "But my true intention is to render justice here today on Klein. Vincenzo is here with me as well, however, and who ever knows what his true intentions are? If I were him, I'd be angry that you all tried to kill me. Wouldn't you?"

The group is now in a full-blown panic. Hysteria sweeps over the room like an explosion. And just as the council heads to the door to flee, Vincent emerges from underneath the ground, sending rock and debris everywhere. Michael covers my body so as not to injure me. After everything settles, we all see Vincent there. He begins to laugh gleefully before starting a slow round of applause for the council.

"Give it up for the Coronam, everybody!" Vincent screams. "Running away like little chickens with their heads cut off!"

Klein's jaw drops as he sees Vincent alive and freezes like a statue. The rest of the council doesn't know what to make of it. Algarus steps forward.

"Vincent? Is that really you?" Algarus asks, looking frightened.

"In the flesh," Vincent answers with a smirk. "Would you gentlemen kindly take your seats?"

An awkward pause occurs before the council makes their way back to the table to sit down. Klein still hasn't recovered from the shock of seeing Vincent alive.

"Why, Mister Klein," Vincent continues. "You look like someone just walked over your grave...was it me, by any chance?"

"You're dead," Klein says weakly as he steps forward and around the table. "You're dead..."

"I almost was," Vincent says as he walks forward toward Klein. "But you...you're...you're not Klein."

In a blur of movement Klein rushes Vincent and stabs him with a glass dagger. It shatters in his hands, causing Klein to fall back from the concussive force.

"Is that all of the Hela poison you made?" Vincent says with a playful smile on his face. "You squirmy little devil, you. You were hiding a dagger made out of Hela, very nifty. Did any of you know this? I wonder who that dagger was meant for next? Do any of you have any idea? I bet you all had huge targets on your back plump for a backstab. What do you think about this, Algy?"

"We would never allow such a thing in these chambers," Algarus responds immediately, still in awe just being in Vincent's presence. "But how? How did you survive?"

"Oh yeah," Vincent says as he slaps his own forehead. "I completely forgot something. It was important, too. So let me just say this and get it out of the way. Cain is real and very much alive. But, you see, Cain doesn't like to intervene in his children's affairs. He likes to believe he has taught us all better than that. So, like a patient daddy, he just sits back and lets us play nice or naughty, whichever. But vampires, all vampires, are on a leash. He'll let you play as long as you follow the basic rules. Respect the balance, don't reveal our existence to the world, don't overfeed...you know the drill. But the moment any one of you steps out of line, he pulls that leash. It gets tight real fast."

Vincent walks toward Klein, who is still on the floor, and stomps on his knee. I turn away as I see Klein's femur and ankle bone rip his pants apart in separate directions. I look back again to see that Vincent has his foot on the ankle bone, effectively disabling Klein's vampiric healing to reset the bone in place. Nothing up until now has reached the level of volume that Klein's pleas for aid have reached at this moment.

"That looks painful," Vincent says calmly as he lowers his head to inspect the wound. "I would put some antiseptic on that and stay off of it for a few days. If you move, I'll kill you."

Vincent removes his foot off of Klein and turns back to the rest of the council. "Where was I? Oh yeah, the leash," Vincent says as he looks over the elders one by one. "I'm that leash. At least, that's the way Cain looks at it. I like to look at myself as that sadistic older brother who loves beating up his siblings, and I'm good at it, too."

"You've seen Cain!" Algarus almost yells in excitement and terror. "How could this be true? When will he come to lead us?!"

Vincent clicks his tongue in disapproval and shakes his head before pointing at Algarus.

"See that's the thing," Vincent answers. "He doesn't lead you. He doesn't control you. He's not God and he doesn't want to be. He is your father. He just wants you to stay in line. And if you don't...well, you'll have me to answer to. How else do you think I'm immune to the Hela poison? It was on his command that I come here and destroy it. He taught me how to do it, he even gave me some of his memories and power. And boy, let me tell you, that was a lot to endure. I thought I'd lose my mind for a while there, but then, you know, I hit the bottle and whatever, problem solved. Why am I telling any of you this? Where the hell was I? Klein clone, this is entirely your fault!"

Vincent immediately appears next to Klein and punches him in the face. Klein's jaw literally falls off. Vincent looks down at him and allows Klein's body to regenerate itself.

"Clone? What do you mean?" Algarus asks in sheer confusion.

I look at Michael to see that he appears calm as can be. I think this worked exactly the way he planned it. And Vincent, well...it's just incredible to see him being himself again. Sarcastic and a bit scary, but always in control.

"I said I received some of Cain's power, didn't I?" Vincent asks the council. "Watch, I can charm any of you. I don't even have to look at you anymore. Do we have a volunteer? No? All right, fine then. Watch this trick then."

Vincent covers his eyes with his left forearm and points at a random elder. "You, jump into that wall there head first," Vincent commands while motioning with his free arm. "And then, I want you to cluck like a chicken and tell us why you sat there and let Klein order me dead."

The elder does just as Vincent commanded. His robes sway as he runs into the wall head first, clucking like a chicken.

"I saw Klein kill you," the elder says with a blank expression on his face. "I didn't know he would do it, but Klein did speak about it as a possibility we would have to face. That's why the Hela poison was created. I was afraid to step in. If I defended you and lost, I would truly meet the ash from Klein's hand. If I went with Klein and he ended up proving powerless against you, you would kill me."

"You see folks? Honesty: it's _not_ overrated," Vincent muses to himself as the elder snaps out of the trance and looks around as if he's lost. "That's just a fraction of Cain's power. Do not doubt Cain's will ever again, or you'll have me to contend with. Is everyone okay with that?"

Vincent walks back towards Michael and pats him on the chest as he waits for an objection. None comes. The vampire council is completely mystified.

"And as far as this large, hairy fellow is concerned, you will all stop sending hit squads after him. He is undoubtedly one of the most powerful creatures on the planet and you're just sacrificing your own kind for nothing. So from now on, cease all warrants or bounties you have on him," Vincent demands firmly. "Don't even insult me by trying to deny it. I understand that no one likes big brother coming along and slapping you or killing you when you do something wrong. But that just means that you force yourselves to behave, you idiots. I know that there will be rogue vampires who don't respect this decree, but you're to punish them. If they survive Michael, that is. And don't ash the young upstart vampires; just teach them about the balance. And from now on, Algy leads this council. If you don't agree with this, you can quit the council. If I hear anything about Algy meeting an untimely death, whoever is responsible will be tortured until they die. Are we all in agreement?"

Algarus bows his head. He is obviously shocked to be named leader by Vincent, but I'm sure Vincent has his reasons.

"Now, the only thing that's left is how to get the truth out of this clone here," Vincent says low, almost to himself. "Did anyone notice that Klein has been acting strangely? Has there been a period of absence? I could just use my telepathy on all of you and steal this information from your minds, but I'd rather we start this new era of our species off on the right foot."

"Lord Vincent, I can only speak for myself," Algarus says now, more humble and levelheaded than before. "But I didn't notice anything like that at all. What makes you think he's a clone?"

"First off, drop the 'lord' title, it's ridiculous," Vincent says with a look of disgust. "And secondly, I don't 'think' he's a clone. I know he's a clone. Michael sensed it earlier but couldn't really pinpoint what was raising his hackles. I have other tricks, though. This man you see is not Klein, and furthermore, he knows he's not Klein. What really concerns me is that he is as powerful as I _expected_ the real Klein to be."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you," Algarus answers. "If anyone has something to contribute, I would really urge you to now."

Michael lowers his large head and whispers something in Vincent's ear. Vincent appears to agree with whatever it was that was suggested to him and he begins walking forward.

"My furry friend just wants this to be over and done with," Vincent announces with a happy ring to his tone. This really frightens the vampire council. "So, I'm just going to compel the clone here to tell the truth. Anyone disagree with that?"

No one even moves, much less disagrees with the suggestion.

"Alright then," Vincent says as he turns his attention to Klein who is still on the ground. "Normally I would torture the hell out of you, but we really don't have the time. I command you to tell the truth and everything you know about what is really going on here. You can start off by giving us your name."

"I do not have a name," the clone suspect answers with a familiar blank expression on his face. "Klein only gave me a number. I am 2. I was the second clone created by the real individual you refer to as Klein. That I know of, there are at least four other clones that have been created by him."

"You see what I'm seeing here, guys?" Vincent asks as he stretches his arms out. "This is what happens when an old, crazy vampire goes all evil mad scientist. He tried to manipulate nature by screwing around with the way keepers worked, he created a race of supers that can potentially destroy anything on the planet, and now he's creating a Klein only army. Number 2, if you're a clone, how come you're so powerful? It would defeat the purpose of having a bunch of clones if you're just as powerful as Klein, wouldn't it? I mean Klein is a scheming, power hungry bastard, isn't he? If he made his clones as powerful as he was, eventually he would get overthrown by the very clones he created. What gives?"

"You're right," Number 2 answers. "All of his clones, as far as I know, are not as powerful as he is. We were created to be weaker than the original for that very same reason, to prevent an uprising. But we are all dwarfed by his current power, even if all the clones fought together."

The council erupts with questions and it turns into a state of near hysteria. Michael motions towards Algarus, who desperately wants to ask a question. Vincent looks at Michael and then at Algarus.

"Something on your mind Algy?" Vincent asks.

"Yes, a concern more than a question," Algarus states. "If Klein's true purpose was to manipulate us, isn't it likely that he would have allies to his cause? And if this really is a clone, shouldn't we have more than just Klein clones running around?"

"My word, you have proven yourself to be a valuable bloodsucker," Vincent says with a look of shock. "Let me get right on that."

Vincent's attention goes from council member to council member, his gaze finally resting on Algarus.

"My, the Coronam is filthy and overflowing with rats," Vincent says as he furrows his brow. "I'm afraid you were right, Algy. It seems that almost all of the council has been influenced by Klein. Luckily, they all are original versions of who they say they are...but there are only four members total here who are not being snowed by Klein. What a disgrace. You will all follow Algarus' lead from now on and listen to his council. And as far as you Algarus, you'll remember the original teachings of the Coronam. You will remember the magnum mendacium and respect all that it entails, ensuring all vampires abide by these important rules."

Algarus nods his head, but almost the rest of the entire council is still stuck in a daze. I guess Vincent charmed all of the elders to follow Algarus. All of them except the elder that clucked like a chicken, Algarus himself and two others that really haven't spoken. Those must be the four elders that refused to side with Klein. It's comforting to see that not all of them were rotten.

"Number 2, how did Klein reach such levels of power that he is still more powerful than you?" Vincent asks as he turns back to the clone on the floor. "You said you were dwarfed by his current power?"

"It was the keeper," the clone answers. "Klein used the keeper, but did not plan on the effects that would come along with it. He was very happy with the results."

"Yeah, we know," Vincent says softly, almost as if he's sad. "But what unplanned effects are you talking about? What results was he happy with? Were the clones created before he mated with the keeper?"

"The first clones were all made after his union with the keeper," Number 2 explains. "He had gained immense power from his bonding with the keeper. But this was all a part of his plan. What he didn't plan for was how powerful he would become, that was the unexpected result that he was overjoyed with."

"What plan? Klein had a plan involving the keeper?" Michael asks, stepping forward.

"You heard him, Chuckles, answer him," Vincent commands.

"Yes, Klein had tracked back keeper bloodlines," Number 2 answers. "Klein was convinced that although our kind was ancient, there were other races, such as the werewolves, that were even more ancient. He surmised that the keeper species would have had to have been one of those species, simply out of necessity for the races to prosper and become more numerous. He found a time in history were there were plentiful keepers, more so than needed, and still went further back. He learned that there were only twelve keeper families originally. From what he could tell, almost all of them had died off or were turned into another type of creature. But this also made him ask: how did the keepers continue to exist? It was because keepers could mate with humans and still carry on the gene."

"We know that keepers can carry on the gene, but what is so important about the twelve keeper families?" Vincent asks with a shake of his head. "How did he come to know that there were twelve keeper families to begin with? How far back did he go?"

"Yes, that was troublesome," Number 2 continues, still with a blank stare. "He was forced to consort with species he did not like to be near, the werewolves. One werewolf was able to speak with the world, with nature itself. It pointed him to the right direction. From there, it was just finding evidence as to how old the keepers were. As a vampire, Klein knew a keeper fossil when he found one. He hired excavation teams to dig all around the area the werewolf instructed. He found twelve different families, all of them keepers, all of them at least eighty thousand years old. He could find no more keeper fossils older than those, although he suspected there were others out there possibly even older than that. Then, those fossils were separated and easily identifiable as different families of keepers. The werewolf had given a very good sense of time to work with and many fossils were indeed found. And so that is when Klein found his answer. There were originally twelve different clans or families of keepers, and they seemed to appear with the emergence of modern humans."

"Who was the werewolf that helped him?" Michael asks, his voice full of hurt.

"It was a wolf known as Orwell," Number 2 states.

Michael shakes his head and walks away from Vincent in disbelief.

"All right, so I get almost everything you've said," Vincent says as he tries to recap. "I can understand that only a fellow super can tell a keeper bone from a human bone; it's part of the keeper's mojo, even in death. That's been known for centuries that their powers still have an influence over other supers. But why was he so fascinated by these original keepers?"

"He postulated that like with everything else in our world, if he could find the oldest bloodline and mate with it, he would become invincible," Number 2 explains. "The hardest part of the endeavor was that the clans were mating within themselves, which eventually led to an extremely large keeper population. When that happened, all supernaturals were attracted to the spot of these keeper clans, and were either killed or turned. Klein wanted to see what would happen if he could mate with a keeper that had undiluted blood. He knew it was possible; he just had to track a line of keepers that only mated with other keepers. He found three tribes that were completely untouched by time. These three tribes migrated northeast before the event that ended up making keepers so very rare. One eventually died off, some sort of disagreement between them, so it was only down to two. He found evidence that the two tribes that originated in what is now northeast Europe continued thriving there. Since keepers have an innate ability to hide their presence, they remained safe there for thousands of years. They eventually all went their separate ways, some mating with supers and turning, others dying without ever passing on the gene, and then some that mated with humans. He did find a line of keepers that kept mating with other keepers. He felt that it was fate that was guiding him as he traced the family line as far back as he could. And he had found it. The lines of McBeth and Harrell were both an original clan and had only mated with other keepers. So he was ecstatic when he was able to find a keeper of this lineage."

"Wait a second," I say aloud to Michael praying to get his attention. "McBeth is my father's name, Harrell is..."

"So that's when Klein found Mary?" Vincent asks seemingly unaware of my distress.

"Yes, and in mating with her, he became extremely powerful," Number 2 explains. "But even after the initial increase in his abilities, he continued to grow more and more powerful by the day until he reached his current power. But when he found that keeper, he had made a mistake. Mary had already mated with a supernatural, another who shared the keeper bloodline, the male. And although technically, only females can be true keepers, the male held the keeper's DNA locked away in his cells. He might not have been a keeper in the traditional sense, but he wasn't human."

"Not human? And since male keepers still count as supernaturals, the power increase he was intending to receive was lost to him," Vincent muses out loud.

"Yes, in his haste he had forgotten that fact," Number 2 elaborates. "Klein forgot that at their core, keepers are supers. He took the wrong keeper. Of course, since the keeper had mated without producing a new species, there was still power to be taken from the keeper. But it wasn't what he was counting on. He was supposed to take the virgin keeper of original, undiluted blood. The very last of her kind that can make such a claim now that the Harrell line has ended."

"The Harrell line has ended?" Vincent says as he turns to look at my mother. My mother has her face down and is avoiding eye contact. "Mary, is your maiden name Harrell?"

Mary nods her head as tears stream down her face.

"There is only one keeper left in this world that can say they are a true, original keeper," Number 2 points out. "That girl there...and Klein will do whatever it takes to claim her."

Vincent looks at me with a wide-eyed look of surprise on his face.

"You're...an original?" Vincent says as he catches himself stumbling through his sentence. "You're the last keeper of the original, undiluted bloodline in the world?"

"I don't know anything about being an original," I admit in frustration. "I do know that my mother's maiden name is Harrell and I've been trying to tell you that for what seems like an hour!"

"Whatever you say, Goldilocks," Vincent replies smugly before turning his attention back to the clone. "Number 2? Is there anything else of relevance that you think I should know?"

Number 2 shakes his head. Before he's even done, Vincent has destroyed his entire body in a bloody whirlwind. I can't even begin to say how he killed the clone; I just know that whatever was there is now just blood and ash.

"Algy, I think it's safe to say that Klein is an enemy of the state," Vincent says as he turns back to Algarus. "So yeah, APB or whatever on anything that looks like Klein. I really don't want to get my hands dirty on this one, but if I do, I won't be a happy camper. So keep that in mind and we'll all be peachy, okay?"

The councilors all just nod their heads silently. Vincent smiles and nods before turning back to Michael.

"That's all fine and good, but will someone please tell me something, anything," I almost scream in contempt. "I'm not the first keeper, so I can't be an original anything. What's going on here?"

"Your bloodline is the original part, dummy," Vincent answers as if he's talking back to a child. "And now, you're the only pureblood left. That makes Izzy stock climb by about, well, a lot. Like 10,000% or something. The fact that you have a direct link back that has never been tainted at all means that whatever you do mate with is going to be extremely powerful. It would also explain why you have the ability to block out the advances of others as well as their powers. Like that siren back there, remember? All the ghoulies were going crazy around you and you kept your cool like a rock star. Way to go Izzy, five stars."

"This also means she's going to be hounded by Klein and his lackeys until he dies," Michael says with a low growl. "And since we can't have anyone touching her, he must die. Painfully."

"Yeah well, that was part of the plan from the get-go anyway," Vincent says as he claps his hands loudly. He raises his right hand and points his finger, shaking it around as if he's bored. "Pack up the caravan and get a move on, little doggies. This dog and pony show is heading home. I need a drink."

###
