(a sequel to All That Sparkles, The Price of Peace and Seeing Double)
By aubreysmom
Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Some moderate sensuality and violence… the villain in this one's a real prince…
Disclaimer: The characters in this story, with the exception of Elizabeth Dillingham and Evan Graham, are the property of Pebblehut Productions and PAXSON Entertainment. Jeff Vance is a character from Medina's Green Money, and I hope she doesn't mind the reference. Sam Leland makes a reappearance courtesy of RRP.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to RRP, who keeps me honest and on character with her beta-reads. And to my great Dictation-Giver, for whom I am but a secretary. And my other betas this time around: ducky, Nel and 'Laine. Thanks, guys!
Author's Note: Quick reminder – this series only follows the show to a point. It started before we learned about Anne, or the names of Myles' parents. We take our background from a comment in "The Fugitive" (Season 1) in which Myles confirms he has brothers. The only one who we see in this installment is Sam… Brad and Jamie we'll meet later… also, Stanley never existed, or never dated Tara… she's Sam's lady…
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Prologue
Baltimore, Maryland
Sunday, May 23, 3:48 am
"Oh! Snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: …"
Lord Byron's words, whispered, completed the ritual as he tossed a rose onto the body of the woman on the ground.
A black rose, it was called, so deeply red that it looked black. The perfect signature for what was to come in one life – black for torment, black for death. And torment her he would, right up until the end. He would pave a trail of bodies, leaving no clues to reveal himself – until it was too late. That which he had suffered for eight years, he would return upon her a hundredfold.
He would watch as the investigation unfolded, as the authorities tried in vain to find a pattern. There wasn't one – unless someone thought to ask her. And the odds of that were slim at best. He would continue south, into the heart of the nation's capitol, into her very home; he would leave two more calling cards, and then she would be his to drive mad before she joined the ring of roses.
He looked down again at his latest victim; her skin paling as the blood drained from her throat. Shortly, perhaps within the hour, her crimson scarf would be complete, and this rose would fade away like the others.
He smiled.