Allotrope A Twilight Fan Fiction Book

by Chris Ryan Clark

Allotrope is set in the Twilight universe during the 1940's, and follows the story of Grant Willoughby, a science professor - turned vampire, who gets more than he bargained for when he meets a coven of European vampires caught in the crosshairs of WWII.

PREFACE

I RAN FURTHER AND FURTHER INTO THE DENSE WOODS, TRYING

to buy enough time to find a way to escape. After another glance back, concern turned to panic; he was less than ten feet behind me. Despair began to fill me as I accepted my fate.

I was going to die.

He was too fast, too strong, too determined. Sooner or later, he would catch me and rip me apart, laughing as he did it. I didn't think myself a failure, though, even in the shadow of my own doom. I had taken the monster far away, far enough to give the ones I loved the chance to escape. They would make it out, find new adventures, form new stories, share new loves. That thought was the salve that eased my pain, the calm before the execution. I was losing my life to give them theirs. I was going to have my good death after all.

1. ORIGINS

"AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS THE THIRD LAW OF motion. Any questions?"

Silence.

Well, not actually silence. I'm pretty sure I heard the proverbial crickets chirping in the background. I glanced down at my watch. 6:04. I suppose I couldn't blame them, I did tend to ramble when I lectured on the basics. I had to remember, I was teaching a 100-level class. There was a chasm a mile wide between my interest in the foundational theories of physics and theirs. I suppose that's why I enjoyed teaching the upper-level classes so much more - at least then I didn't feel like I was talking into thin air.

The sound of rustling papers and opening book bags pulled me back from my sudden absent-minded musings. "Don't forget you have a three-page paper about Newton's research methods due on Monday. Have a good weekend." I doubt anyone caught my reminder as they scurried out the door of my lecture hall, everyone in a hurry to get to their exciting weekend life. Ah, if only my evening had something in it to look forward to!

The weekend to me was something to be endured, not enjoyed. My research, my teaching - that was what I looked forward to. That cavernous gap between Friday evening and Monday morning was rather like the nap your mother made you take as a child. You know, the one where you lay on your bed for an hour and count the squares on the ceiling? That was my weekend. I suppose I could only blame myself for my painfully boring social life; ever since I came to Seattle, I had been so immersed in my work that I really didn't put much effort into making friends. Of course, it was an effort, and that was the other problem. Forging new relationships had never been easy for me, and moving an ocean away from my friends and family had left me without much of a base to work from. I hoped to travel back to England soon; it had been nearly two years since I had seen my family, and I missed them all dearly.

I grew up in a rather well-to-do neighborhood in the heart of Manchester. My father was a professor at the University, and his salary guaranteed that my mother and I had a comfortable life. He was a driven man, infinitely ambitious, always reaching for the next rung in the social ladder. He was born a pauper, eking out whatever living he could in the slums of London. He taught himself to read and write, often stealing schoolbooks and spending countless hours in the library. He was a truly self-made man, and the memories of his destitute up-bringing burned like a mountain of coal to fuel his desire to achieve. He was a hard man, fair but stern, and I often wondered if growing up in his house was that different from a military academy. I suppose it would have been so, were it not for my mother. My father was like coffee - bold, strong, slightly bitter. My mother was the cream and sugar. She married my father, a much older man, when she was still quite young, and relished the lavish life he slaved to provide her with. She most thoroughly enjoyed the social benefits of my father's prestigious position in the school, making for all the free time he never allowed himself. I was an only child for the first sixteen and a half years of my life, and I was always suspended between the opposing gravitational pulls of my father's motivation and my mother's indulgence. I was a bright student, always excelling in class, always over-achieving. My father would hire private tutors each summer to continue my education. Of course, my mother would dismiss them any time my father was away for a time. I suppose I owe whatever child-like childhood I had to her rule-bending. My younger brother, Harvey, was always more like a nephew to me than a brother. Not that I loved him any less, but I was out of the house by the time he could speak intelligibly.

Thanks to my perpetual tutoring, I graduated high school and enrolled in the University of Manchester at seventeen, and completed my bachelor of science at twenty. My father saw to it that I continued my education, and I was accepted into a graduate program at Cambridge, where I earned a doctoral degree in Physics. After coming back to Manchester for few years as a researcher, I was contacted by the University of Washington in Seattle, and offered a position as a senior researcher and a professor of physical science. It was my dream job - if only it were a little closer. We had traveled to the United States once when I was a boy (after months of my mother's scheming and arm-twisting), visiting New York, Boston, Philadelphia... They were all nice enough places, but they weren't home. The nurturing, home-body of my mother in me fought with the drive and ambition of my father, and in the end, ambition won out and I took the job.

I wondered that night as I left the lecture hall and headed to my usual evening destination if I would continue to grow more like my father as I aged, or if the softer side of my mother would eventually break through and lighten me up. Little did I know that question would never be answered.

It was cold, and there was a slight drizzle in the air as I walked across the quiet campus to the pier. At least the weather here was familiar. Cold, rainy, lots of cloudy days. The drizzle settled into a mist as I left the tree cover of the campus and headed down the brick alleys near the pier. I walked slowly; the mist was only enough to dampen one's hair, and I was in no real hurry to spend another Friday evening eating alone. As I rounded the last corner and headed to my all-too-familiar dinner destination, the smell of Fried Cod and Bourbon enveloped my senses like a warm blanket.

Ah, McCanty's.

If there was one highlight, one lonely star peeking through the cloudy night of my weekend, it was McCanty's. The wooden, hand-painted sign hung awkwardly, barely illuminated in the mist, like a subtle clue to a juicy secret that only a few lucky souls were privy to. McCanty's was a simple place, family owned and operated, with a rather humble interior. They did one thing, and they did it quite well: Fish and Chips. There were plenty of fancier establishments to spend one's evening in, easily within the reach of my generous salary, but nobody made Fish and Chips like McCanty's.

Doris greeted me as I entered through the heavy wooden door and shook the water out of my hair. "'Ev'nin Dr. Willoughby. I'll assume you're havin' the usual?" I was on a first-name basis with most of the employees here.

"Yes, Doris, thank you." I took a seat and enjoyed my dinner in solitude, taking the opportunity to browse through the newspaper on the table. It shouldn't be too long before the entertainment shows up.

The usual clientele at a place like this was quite a bit less refined than the collection of intellectuals at the University; sailors, fisherman, porters, shipyard workers. They flocked here for the relaxed atmosphere and the cheap spirits, wasting away their meager earnings in drunken revelry. When bad manners and excessive alcohol mixed, it usually made for an enjoyable show. Franklin, the McCanty's youngest son, served as the bouncer of sorts, and he usually got to break up at least two or three fights an evening. And then there were the fish stories, most of which were exaggerated to absurd proportions. My personal favorite was when the tall tale slowly drifted off into some nonsensical gibberish, usually followed by a face-plant into the bar.

Classic.

I meandered over to the bar as the first rowdy group of characters filed through the doorway and settled into my usual spot to people-watch. The volume level inside the small room immediately doubled, and I nearly had to yell my order to Peter, the bartender. I had tried with no success to convince the McCanty's to invest in a more refined selection of spirits, but I understood that it would prove a poor investment given their usual bar patrons. Fine Scotch whiskey was for the discriminating tongue; the house special bourbon filled its purpose well - get drunk quickly for a reasonable price. I settled for a draft beer and struck up a casual conversation with Peter as three more rough-looking hooligans shuffled in.

Before long, the atmosphere was in full swing. To my right, two men with large, unruly beards appeared to be having a drinking contest. On the far end of the bar, a trio of tattooed old men were debating the merits of various firearms. In the far corner, a group of Dutch immigrants huddled around the dreadfully out-of-tune piano, singing some sort of drinking song in their native language and sloshing beer all over the floor. It was beginning to look like another typical Friday night at McCanty's when a dark, tall figure eased through the doorway. I hadn't noticed her enter - I was listening in on a large, burly fellow as he slurred his way through a story about whipping a group of four...wait, no, five (or was it seven?) young Italian men in a bar outside of Portland. Not likely, I thought to myself, sizing him up. He looks as if he would move with all the agility of a hippopotamus, especially in his drunken state. Of course, if he did land a punch, I mused, envisioning the brute knocking all the teeth out of some poor lad's mouth.

My mouth was just twisting into a smile as my thoughts were interrupted by, of all things, silence. I was a college professor, I worked in silence all the time. I liked silence. This was different. This kind of quiet on a weekend at McCanty's was about as common as a cloudless day in Seattle. The Dutchmen at the piano had stopped singing, their voices dropping out one by one as they shifted their attention to the front of the pub. Mr. Hippopotamus had cut off his story mid-sentence; he and his listeners were now fixated on whatever was happening at the doorway.

I leaned back from my bar stool and craned my neck to see what all the...well, non-commotion was about. That's when I first saw her - tall, blonde, with an exotic look that seemed out of place in a blue-collar place like this. She opened up her black raincoat and let it slide slowly off her arms, unveiling a red silken gown that hugged her well-proportioned curves with elegant perfection. A flick of her head sent a river of golden hair cascading down her neck to the middle of her back, and the air left the room with a nearly audible gasp.

If there were any jaws that hadn't been hanging open, they were now sitting on the floor with the rest of ours.

I was so stunned at the sight that my grip loosened on the counter and my weight carried me swiftly to the floor. No one noticed. After a brief moment of awkward silence, the damsel spoke, her voice ringing smoothly like the chime of a bell. "Goodness, boys, don't stop the party on my account," she said with a playful smile as she folded her coat over her arm and began to walk toward the bar. I clamored to my feet, a blush of embarrassment sweeping over my face.

She glided across the wooden floor as if she were floating, and came directly to me, stopping a little closer than was normally considered proper. "Mind if I join you?" she asked with a smile. I felt every set of eyes in the room temporarily flash in my direction. She smelled absolutely divine, as if her dress were made out of rose petals instead of silk. I stuttered and stammered, stumbling across a "sure" somewhere along the way, and she sat down on the stool to my immediate right. My mind began racing, trying to think of something clever to say. I was so bad at this.

"I haven't seen you here before. I'm Grant." Not bad for a start. Not bad for me, at least.

"Britta. Nice to meet you, Grant," she replied, a slight accent flavoring her song-like speech. I started working on my next venture into conversation. The hair, the pale skin, the name, the accent...definitely not from around here. Dutch? Swiss, maybe?

"I noticed your accent," I said, a little sheepishly. "Swedish?"

"Danish, actually," she replied, a look of surprise glimmering across her angelic face before the flirtatious smile returned. "And I thought I was doing such a good job of covering it up..." Her eyes caught mine, shifting my attention away from a coherent reply.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," I half-muttered. 'Your secret's safe with me?' What does that even mean? Ugh, I am so dreadfully awful at this! I looked down at my glass, fully expecting the luxuriously dressed blonde to move on to someone who could string together a connected line of thoughts.

"So, Grant, what do you do for a living?" It took a moment for the question to register. Wait – is she still talking to me?

Apparently her English was not as good as it seemed.

I turned to find her body oriented toward mine, her chin resting on her fist. The relatively low neckline of her gown hinted at the exquisite landscape of flesh that it kept just hidden from view. My mouth disconnected from my brain. Words had no room to form in my head – my eyes were using up all my brain's resources. Face, face, face, Grant! I chided myself. Look at her face. Be a gentleman.

"I'm an, um, uh, p-professor of physics at Washington University. It's actually quite boring, but, um..." I trailed off, struggling to regain control of my speech processes.

"Wow, that is so interesting," she said with a smile, her long, dark eyelashes batting like butterflies. 'Interesting?' I must be dreaming. How much have I had to drink tonight? "Tell me more," she said, breaking my line of thought. If this was a dream, then I was going to play it out for all it was worth. I proceeded to describe my job to her - my classes, my research, theories of thermodynamics, all the details any sane person would find mind-numbing. She just kept asking questions, smiling and laughing as though she had a genuine interest. Her face grew more amazing with every minute I had to look at it.

Flawless.

Even in the smoky, dimly-lit room, her ivory skin had a radiance to it, almost pearlescent in its perfection. I took notice of her eyes; they were so dark for her fair complexion, and if I didn't know better, I'd say they had a red tint to them. Yes, actually they look quite red - not the whites, but the pupils. I must have had more to drink tonight than I thought. My head felt light; it was time to get home before I passed out at the bar.

I was preparing to make my exit when she paid for the drink she had barely touched and picked up the coat on her lap. "I wasn't paying attention to the time, it's so late!" she said to me as she turned completely in my direction. "I'm staying just a few blocks from here, but it's so dark outside, and I don't know my way that well yet. Would you mind walking me home?" She had that innocent, lost puppy look in her eyes that blurred my thoughts and bypassed my judgment altogether. Somewhere in my locked-up conscience there was a voice screaming "Run! Run away!" but it was quickly drowned out by a string of excuses. She's new in town, what if she gets lost? I'd bet dressed like that, she wouldn't make it two blocks without a mob of sex-crazed sailors descending upon her. I have to walk her home. It's the only decent, chivalrous thing to do.

With my excuses in place, I rose to my feet, helped her put her coat back on (much to the chagrin of my eyes) and walked her out the door. I could feel countless eyes, jealous eyes, following me out, and a wry smile cracked across my face. She was walking home with me. I couldn't help but like that.

She clutched onto my arm as we strolled through the alleyways towards her apartment; the temperature had dropped noticeably since I'd entered the bar - I assumed she was just chilly. Or flirtatious. I wasn't quite sure what to do with the second possibility, so I stuck with "chilly." I was impressed again at the grace of her movement. Her high-heeled shoes barely made a sound as she swayed gently back and forth, the cadence of her steps more like dance than a walk. She quieted down as we strolled further into the dark maze of spaces between the tall buildings - I wondered what she was thinking about... Eventually we stopped at a distressed-looking three-story brick building. She lives here? I definitely need to teach her a little about Seattle. It looked as if the place should be condemned, and I half wondered if it had been already.

"This is it," she said with a chipper voice that seemed oddly out of place, given the object it was announcing. "Why don't you come up and join me for a drink? It's the least I can do to thank you..."

So much for "chilly." Looks like it was "flirtatious" after all. I'm not that guy. I'm not that guy. Just say goodnight and be on your way. "Thank you, but it's getting late, I should probably head home," I stammered, trying more to convince myself than to convince her. I knew this was headed in a bad direction, but everything about her was so alluring, so...intoxicating. I felt my will power fading. Turn around and start walking, Grant. Just walk away, and think about something else.

My feet weren't listening to my head.

"That's too bad," she said, her lower lip sliding into the faintest pout, "I have a bottle of 30-year-old Mcallan; I thought you might appreciate something a little more stimulating to your senses than that cheap beer you were drinking tonight."

That did it. My fragile will snapped like a twig in her fingers. 30-year Mcallan? How on earth? She must have brought it over with her. It had been a long time since I had tasted a good scotch whiskey, and that little side note was enough to tip the scales in her favor.

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I could come up for just one drink."

"Good." She smiled, her expression shifting from playful to seductive. "Follow me."

We climbed the stairs to her apartment in the dark, and she opened the unlocked door at the top of the creaky staircase, flicking on a lamp as she floated into the room. It was not exactly what I expected. Dark, gloomy, messy, and with an undeniably mold-like fragrance. How did she live here? I wondered, as I looked for a clean place to sit. Finding nowhere I could trust to sit without infecting my trousers with some foreign bacteria, I decided standing was the best option. After all, I'm not staying long, I'm just here for a drink.

She slipped into what I assumed to be the kitchen, and returned with two small glasses and a bottle of that familiar, dark brown liquid perfection. She brushed an assortment of letters, cigarettes and uneaten food particles off a small wooden end table (adding to the clutter that covered most of the wooden floor) and placed the glasses there, slowly pouring a generous amount of scotch into each of them. She handed my glass to me with a smile. "Enjoy," she purred, as I took the drink in hand. I paused a moment to savor the aroma, still potent enough to delight my nostrils even in this musky room.

Magnificent.

I sipped slowly, allowing the symphony of flavors to massage my taste buds before swallowing. Yes, absolutely magnificent. It was the last drink I would ever enjoy - at least it was a good one. I didn't have a chance for a second taste.

"It must be so lonely for you here, so far away from your family. I wish there was some way I could help..." she said in a deliciously sultry voice, suddenly right next to me. She took my glass with one hand, while the other cupped my face and slowly slid down to begin undoing my tie. My pulse started racing. "Britta, I'm..uh..ahem!..I'm not really that sort of-"

"Shhh!" she whispered, placing her finger on my lips. "Don't talk, just feel." Her fingers were ice cold on my skin. So she was chilly after all. Chilly and terribly flirtatious. I stood motionless, the fragments of my shattered will trying desperately to patch together enough strength to run out the door as she finished undoing my tie and proceeded to unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. What are you doing? What would mother and father think? What if she has some sort of disease? Wow, she is so cold! Why didn't I shave this morning? I knew I should have shaved...

My thoughts were swirling in no apparent order as her icy lips gently touched my cheek and began to work their way slowly along my chin to my neck. The swirling thoughts were accelerating into a blurred frenzy when they were stopped cold by a red alert. Oww. OWW! A sharp surge of pain stabbed through my neck, followed swiftly by an intense burning sensation. What's happening? Did she just bite me? My eyes flashed open, but I couldn't make anything out. The panic was blurring my vision. Cold, hard iron shackles suddenly clamped down on my arms like vice grips. I struggled unsuccessfully against their impossibly strong hold, trying my legs instead. I managed to land a kick against some sort of steel-hard object, most likely breaking my toe in the process. The pain would normally have elicited an agonized wail, but I could hardly feel it – the burning in my neck was spreading through my head, stealing my breath as the flames scorched every nerve ending in their path.

I began to feel dizzy, and my eyes closed loosely. What's happening to me? Have I been drugged? Did she have an accomplice? Am I dying? The flurry of panicked, disconnected thoughts returned, though they began to slow as I drifted out of consciousness. Somehow through the pain I sensed myself being lowered gently to the ground. A soft, distant voice echoed in my ear, like a whisper from the other side of a cathedral. "Just a few days, darling. Just a few days, and we'll..." the voice trailed off, too hollow and warbled to make out. My consciousness slipped away as the fire in my head grew hotter still. I must be dying. The thought swelled in my mind like a dense fog. Singular. Unavoidable.

I must be dying.

2. INDESTRUCTIBLE

I WRITHED IN AGONY AS I WAITED FOR DEATH TO TAKE ME.

And waited.

And waited.

What was taking so long? The pain was intolerable, like liquid fire pulsing slowly through my veins. I knew there must be an end soon, but nothing came except more excruciating pain. I had never taken religion very seriously until now. My mother saw to it that our family was in church every Sunday, always dressed in our finest outfits. My father came reluctantly; he was far too scientifically minded to give any credence to God, faith, heaven... basically anything that couldn't be studied or observed. My mother was more interested in keeping up appearances than growing in holiness; to her, church was just another venue to rub elbows with the elite class. Given their less-than-stellar examples, it was no wonder I grew up with an apathetic view on God and the church.

I racked my brain as I laid there, trying desperately to remember anything about God that might help me convince him to just let me die. I pleaded for what felt like days on end, but he never heard me. Or never answered.

The burning continued, more terrible than I could possibly describe, and time ceased to exist, as if I were floating in an eternal, bottomless sea of torture. And then suddenly, something changed. I felt the burning retract from my limbs as the pain bunched up and intensified in my chest. I felt a wave of hope wash over me like the first light of dawn sweeping over the countryside. Something was changing. My hope was short-lived, quickly overshadowed by the indescribable pain that now centered in my heart. I began to regain awareness; I could feel the cold, hard surface below me, I could smell the musky odor that still filled the room. I heard a shrieking cry, a terrifying scream of agony. With my body convulsing violently, I felt my heart beat slower, slower, slower... and then, with a tremendous thud, it beat its last. I felt the last breath of air leave my lungs, and I realized – I was the one screaming.

My eyes fluttered open, and a million brilliant sights flooded my senses. I saw the cracked ceiling, the worn, dirty walls, the end table still supporting a bottle of scotch. This was the same room I had been in before, only now it was intensely colorful. I saw every detail with amazing clarity; it was as if everything I had seen in here before had been viewed underwater, and only now was I seeing things in the light of day. I continued to marvel at my heightened senses when a familiar voice interrupted my self-exploration.

"Happy birthday, darling. Welcome to immortality." It was Britta. She sat on the floor next to me, cupping my face in her hands as a smile stretched across her face. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."

Confusion.

Am I dreaming? Is this heaven? I certainly hope not...

"What...where...what did you do to me?" I stammered, my mind racing with unbelievable speed as I tried to make sense of what I was experiencing.

"I have given you the greatest gift that can be given, my darling. Never-ending life. An indestructible body. You are like me now, and we have an eternity together. Oh, I can't wait to show you everything – this is going to be so much fun!" The energy in her voice was almost tangible; she looked like she could burst into song and dance at any moment.

Never-ending life, indestructible body? Britta continued her jubilant rambling, but I wasn't hearing anything. I was still trying to make sense of what she meant by "immortality" when I noticed a painful burning swell up in my throat. I coughed and gasped as the burn grew stronger.

Britta stopped talking abruptly as her brows pulled together in concern. "O dear, you must be so thirsty! How careless of me. Come, let me show you your birthday present." She grasped my hand, lifting me effortlessly to me feet, and leading me down a short hallway, stopping in front of the wooden door at the end. She whirled around, a playful smile splashing across her face. "Happy birthday!" she said gleefully as she opened the door and backed through. In the far corner of the small, empty room was a muscular young man, huddled in a ball, his hands and feet bound. I suddenly caught the scent of something that sent my nerves spinning. Something smelled very, very good, and it was coming from the man in the corner. Britta stepped back behind me, placing her now-warm hands on my shoulders. "What are you waiting for, dear? Drink up!" The scent was mesmerizing, and I found myself walking slowly in the man's direction, my stance lowering to a sort of crouch as I approached him. What am I doing? I suddenly felt the urge to pounce, the burning in my throat now screaming at my brain for relief. My body snapped into action, leaving my mind behind, and I lunged at him, a low snarl emanating from behind my bared teeth. In a blur of instinctual actions, I seized the terrified young man and sank my teeth into his neck. I thought nothing of my barbaric behavior as I held his writhing body still, feeling the warm, sweet blood rush down my throat. I drank until there was nothing left, and reluctantly released the now-limp body, letting it fall with a thud to the floor.

Ah, relief! The burning in my throat numbed to a nearly indiscernible tingle as I grinned widely.

And then my senses returned and a panic stormed in my head.

What have I done? The thought seared in my head like a branding iron as I looked at the lifeless body below me. I had just killed this man. I drank his blood, and I liked it. What manner of beast had I become? What did Britta do to me? I slumped to the floor, my head in my hands. I just ended his life, this stranger I had never met. I tried desperately to re-order the fresh memories in my head, like a bad dream you wake from. Maybe I was dreaming. Please, let me be dreaming. Britta rushed over to me, placing her arms tenderly around me.

"I know you must still be thirsty, dear. Don't worry, as soon as it's dark out we'll find more for you to drink."

I threw her arms off of me as I snapped to my feet, rage building up inside me. "What have you done to me?" I half-shouted, my strange new voice ringing like a trumpet fanfare. "What sort of monster have you transformed me into?"

She stood slowly, perfectly calm as she replied. "I told you, darling, you are like me now. Perfect in every way."

"And what are you?" I growled.

"Well, we are called by different names by different peoples. I believe your culture refers to us as 'vampires,' but I rather prefer 'angels.' It seems much more fitting."

Vampire.

She turned me into a vampire. Seriously?

An assortment of memories buzzed through my head – stories, books, paintings. Various images from my fuzzy memory flashed across my mind's eye. Bats, Count Dracula, fangs, wooden stakes, dripping blood – O, God! Dripping blood? She turned me into a vampire? I was terrified.

"You knew this would happen?" My question was more like an accusation.

"Of course," she replied nonchalantly. "newborn vampires are so thirsty, and I didn't know what time of day it would be when you came around. You would have had two, but... I was so thirsty I couldn't resist. Sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."I was speechless. How could this be true? "O, look, you've gone and messed up your shirt." She continued, her eyebrows furrowing again. "It's a good thing I picked up an extra from your house before it was too late."

Before it was too late?

She answered the silent question, no doubt reading the puzzled look on my face. "Unfortunately, your house burned to the ground." She said, her lips forming a playful pout. "You should have been more careful with those cigarettes." She said in a mock scolding tone. "Don't worry, I've taken care of everything. The body was burned beyond recognition. I'm sure the investigators have informed the university and your family of your tragic death."

My tragic death?

"It actually worked out better than I had imagined," she continued, proud of herself. "You don't have to go through the funeral and burial, I don't have to come back and dig your body up...it worked perfectly!"

She had staged my death. O, my poor parents! I could only imagine the grief they must be feeling now, needless grief. I was furious.

"You miserable, wretched whore!" I screamed, clutching her neck in my hands. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you have any idea of the damage you've caused?" I wanted to choke the life – or non-life – out of her. Panic flooded her face, as she wiggled to break free. My hands grew tighter and tighter, my powerful grip threatening to crush her neck to pieces. I probably would have destroyed her had it not been for the look in her eyes.

Fear.

Surprise.

Her eyes pleaded for her life, and I softened my grip. As terrible a beast as she was, there was still a living being in there somewhere, and I had been responsible for enough death today. I weakened as the grief and remorse of that fact washed over me, and I stumbled back, hitting the wall and slowly sliding down. Britta regained her composure, and a nervous smile reappeared on her face.

"I had forgotten how strong newborns are" she said, mostly to herself. "We shall have to get you more to drink as soon as possible."

It was late afternoon, and the setting sun was casting golden rays through the narrow window as I continued to sit slumped against the wall, my eyes studying the face of the young man I had murdered. I wonder what his name was? Did he have a wife? Children? Is somebody out looking for him? The remorse flooded over me, wave after wave.

Eventually, the feelings grew too strong to bear, and I left the room, shutting the door behind me so forcefully that the plaster wall around it crumbled, sending off-white bits and pieces flying down like violent snow. Wow – I'm strong. Strong and agile, with a heightened sense of sight, smell and hearing. I wonder what else I can do better? I made a mental note to explore my new body soon, the curiosity of my scientific mind providing a good distraction from the guilt I was avoiding.

I walked into the living room, studying every crack in the wall, every knot in the wooden floor with my superhuman eyesight. There was no detail hidden from my view – it was like looking through a microscope. I began to think of all the scientific advances that could be made with my new set of skills, and the excitement pushed the grief further and further into the background of my consciousness.

Britta had stepped out to "check on" the other apartments in the dilapidated building. I could hear her passing from room to room, still clearly audible though she was two stories down. My scanning eyes glanced past a pile of letters on the floor, and I began to sort through them, curious for clues about my sloppy vampire assailant. Rent due. Water bill. Rent due: second notice. Not much to learn here... I was about to toss the papers aside, when I noticed one similarity between them all – they were addressed to a "Mr. Richard Mayweather." Of course this wasn't her apartment. I concluded, a grim smile breaking across my face at my dim-witted discovery. She probably had the poor fellow for lunch. And the rest of the tenants... the revelation hit me slowly. It had been unusually quiet here, as if the entire building were empty. Britta had cleared out the building for our convenience. She must be checking up to make sure no one else had come home to discover the bodies. I shuddered at the grisly truth. There was a bloodthirsty vampire who was infatuated with me.

Fantastic.

The half-used bottle of Mcallan caught my eye. I could really use a drink. I poured myself a glass and downed it, desirous more for the effects of the alcohol than the taste. Disgusting! What on earth? I spat out the mouthful I had just ingested, narrowly missing Britta as she entered the door. She burst into a boisterous laugh as I gagged at the flavor still lingering in my mouth. For a heartless killer, she had the most beautiful sounding laugh one could imagine. For a heartless killer.

"You didn't try to drink that did you?" she spurted in between chuckles.

No, I was just seeing how my spitting abilities had increased since you turned me into a monster. "Of course I tried to drink it! What on earth is in here?" I yelled, as she continued to giggle.

"Mcallan 30-year-old." she replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why does it taste like a bottle of horse urine?"

"I guess I should've told you about that" she replied, still trying to stifle a laugh. "You probably won't enjoy human food or drink anymore, especially now that you have something much better to taste."

Wonderful. The worst day of my life, and I can't even drown it with a stiff drink. My frustration amused her as a few more giggles escaped her mouth, but it was short lived, as her last words awakened a sleeping desire inside me. Something better to taste... My body recalled the flavor perfectly – it was like I could taste the young man's blood again, and the burning in my throat began screaming out for my attention. I should have been repulsed by the thought, but I was overcome with a craving for more of that sweet, delicious liquid.

I was thirsty. Desperately thirsty. Britta spoke up as if she were watching the process play out in my head. "It's almost dark now. Are you ready for your first hunting trip?" Her playful smile should have seemed more inappropriate, given the type of hunting she was speaking of, but some part of me was as excited as she was. Good God, what has become of me?

The sunlight was completely gone from the window as Britta and I put on our overcoats and prepared to leave the solace of our apartment building-turned-mortuary, and the burning thirst in my throat grew stronger by the minute.

"This will be a lot easier for the both of us if you hold your breath. And don't look at anyone, just keep your eyes pointed down. And don't touch anyone. And whatever you do, don't breathe in through your nose." Sure, no problem. Basically, don't do anything.

"Wait, I don't have to breathe?" I asked as her words connected in my head.

"Breathing is for mortals," she replied with a smile. She smiles a lot. Strange behavior for a mass-murdering predator.

We descended the staircase with feather-light softness, as if we were no longer bound by Newton's law of gravity, and were simply acting it out so he didn't look bad. A rush of scents flooded my nostrils as we passed through the doorway into the dark alley – Dust, wood, fish, blood, Cuban cigars, leather, mmm, blood... Oops! Don't breathe, don't touch, don't look. I rehearsed my instructions silently as I followed behind her. We walked quickly through the narrow streets, bypassing human contact wherever possible, though despite my best efforts, the scent of human blood still managed to find a way to the smell receptors in my brain. The craving grew violently. Distraction – I need a distraction. I turned my attention to my eyes. We were walking through barely-illuminated patches and shadows to avoid attention, but somehow I could see everything as clearly as though it were midday. The colors were different - duller somehow, but everything was clearly visible to my vampire sight. We continued to stray further and further from any living establishments, sticking to the warehouses in the shipyards along the coast. The thirst was pushing its way back to the front of my mind when Britta stopped abruptly and whirled around to face me.

"Listen," she whispered.

"What am I listening for?" I asked, as the breath that had been trapped in my lungs for the last fifteen minutes escaped across my vocal cords.

"You'll know it when you hear it."

I shifted my focus to the sounds around me. It would have been nearly silent to human ears, but I heard a myriad of noises, all vying for my attention. A gentle breeze passed through the gaps between the buildings with an almost song-like quality. Lazy waves lapped at the docks in the distance. A large boat creaked and groaned as the water lifted it slowly up and down. I listened more intently, shifting the focus depth of my hearing like the lenses on a microscope. An electrical hum. A ticking clock. Rustling papers.

And then I heard it.

Wump-wump, wump-wump, wump-wump. The rhythmic beating of a human heart. Something inside me began doing somersaults. I felt my body stiffen, my mouth moistening as it prepared for the feast I was about to have.

"Yes, that's it," Britta whispered slowly. "Do you know where it's coming from?" I listened closely to the rhythm and the minute sounds around it – slow breathing, a pen scratching across paper. I was almost certain it was coming from inside the building directly to my left. I nodded in that direction, having given up the last of my breath, and consequently, my ability to speak. "Right again. Now, smell..." I breathed in slowly through my nose, once again taking in a variety of smells, but this time the fragrance of warm blood overshadowed everything else. The smell triggered a chain reaction inside me, and in an instant my instincts took over. I rushed toward the building where my victim waited unaware, smashing through the exterior brick wall as if it were made of paper. The scent guided me as I sped through the large warehouse, leading me to a small office where a manager was finishing his tally's for the day.

He never had a chance.

I burst through the door like a locomotive, tearing it from its hinges and sending it flying across the room. There he was, my fountain of satiation, too startled to react to my approach. I pounced on him as soon as I was through the door, sinking my teeth into him before he had the chance to move. I could feel his weakening pulse as the warm blood flowed in spurts, quenching my thirst. I was suddenly aware of another presence as I feasted on my victim's life source. I snapped around, still clutching the hapless man in my hands as my teeth released him and clinched together in a snarl. It was only Britta. False alarm.

I went back to drinking as she spoke softly, making sure to keep her distance. "I don't mean to disturb your meal, my love, but you may want to be a little less destructive the next time you chase your prey. Busting a hole through a wall is going to attract the wrong sort of attention, and we don't want to be forced to -" She cut off suddenly, whipping her head around and stiffening, as if she were listening for something. I dropped the mostly empty corpse, ready to run or fight if necessary.

"Damn." She whispered. "Stay here." I looked back at the gaping hole I had left in the building, and I saw what the problem was. A middle-aged man stood six feet inside the gap, fear widening his eyes as he turned to run. Britta sprinted after him like a bolt of lightning, catching him before he had taken two steps, and snapping his neck with such force I was surprised his head stayed connected to his body.

Impressive.

She peeked her head out the make-shift door, waiting for a few brief seconds to make sure no one else had seen or heard anything before stepping back inside to pick up the man's body. She walked towards me with the lifeless body in one hand, tossing it to me like a rag doll once she was twenty feet away from me. "Here, have another one," she said smugly. I didn't hesitate, drinking the still-warm blood with the same fervor as my previous victim. "Stay here, I need to go clean up," she instructed as she bolted back out the hole in the wall.

She returned just as I was finishing up my second meal, and grabbed the two bodies, rushing back outside with them in tow. In an instant I heard a deafening rumble as a large pick-up truck crashed through the wall where my hole had been, the recently-drained bodies occupying the front two seats. I watched as she poured clear liquid over the mangled hood of the truck and lit a match, igniting a burst of flames that quickly began to spread into the truck cab. She walked briskly towards me, lightly grasping my hand. "Let's get back to the apartment. I think we've done enough damage here for one evening." I followed her outside, using the actual door this time as the flames from the truck began to spread to the building.

We rushed back to our temporary home, only slowing to human speed when we had to in order to keep our cover. It took us just minutes to reach the apartment, and all along the way, my head was still buzzing from the young evening's events. I didn't get a chance to slow down. Britta came to an abrupt halt thirty yards from the building, freezing once again to listen. This time I heard what she was listening for. Two sets of heartbeats, heavy breathing, knuckles knocking against a wooden door. A baritone voice muttered something about trying the next one. Britta said nothing this time as she sprinted into the building. I followed her to find two police officers standing at a door on the first floor. It appeared that someone was onto us. I watched the veteran vampire as she effortlessly grabbed their heads, one in each hand, and drove them through the wall.

"We have to go now," she said, her smile gone, a new sense of urgency in her voice. In a flash, she was off, flying up the stairs and out of sight. I stood there on the first floor, not sure what to do next. As I waited, I began to smell smoke and the unpleasant odor of various materials being consumed by fire. Britta reappeared, grasping my hand and pulling me out the door with her as she flicked a match down the first floor hallway, igniting flames instantly. Earlier today when she was "cleaning up" she must have been preparing for our eventual exit. I could feel the heat of the spreading flames as we raced out the building, heading a different direction this time. We ran through the empty streets at top speed now, unconcerned with keeping cover as we made our escape.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we ran effortlessly toward the pier.

"Into the water," she replied coldly. "We need to disappear."

We never slowed as we reached the water's edge, diving head-first into the frigid waves that beat rhythmically against the wooden docks. I followed Britta as she swam rapidly out to sea, diving further and further into the murky depths below the merchant vessels docked in the harbor.

Being underwater as a vampire was a unique experience. Swimming came with as much ease as running, and without the need for oxygen, there was no end to the exploration one could do in the ocean's depths. Of course, the deeper the ocean water is, the less light there is, which would be a problem were it not for these magnificent vampire eyes. The darkness underwater was as bright and vibrant to my new eyes as the black night above water had been. The ever-moving liquid created a warbled view of my surroundings, not unlike looking through the glass of a bottle. The sounds were also different; louder, reverberating like a concert hall. I took everything in like a boy in a museum (well, at least like I was when I visited the museum as a boy) and tried to keep up.

After nearly an hour underwater, we surfaced about a hundred yards from the shore. We checked quickly to ensure it was unoccupied, swam to the rocky shoreline, and climbed the short cliff face that bordered the icy water, resting at last at the top. Not that we needed rest. I could have jumped up and run a marathon. Through a sand pit. Carrying a house on my back. There was no end to the energy in this new body, but it wasn't exertion that we needed a break from.

We both breathed a figurative sigh of relief as we reclined on the stony surface atop the small outcropping of rock jutting out into the pacific coast.

"Well, that was interesting," I said without a hint of sarcasm, breaking the silence for the first time since we had entered the water. "Is it always like this?"

"Like what" she asked, angling her body toward me.

"Burning down buildings, swimming for hours, throwing trucks through brick walls..."

"No. It's usually not quite this difficult. Or this interesting. I obviously underestimated how strong and reckless you'd be. I'm sure I was much the same when I was a newborn, but it has been such a long time, and things always appear different when seen from the outside..."

I was suddenly curious about my murderous companion. Maybe she wasn't quite as bad as she seemed. Maybe she was just misunderstood...

Okay, she probably was as bad as she seemed, but I was desperate for something to take my mind off the nightmarish images that kept creeping into the forefront of my mind. It had been a night I wished to forget. Sadly, it was just one of many nights I will never forget. I quickly pushed the terrible memories into the background and continued the conversation.

"So, exactly how long ago was it when you were a...newborn?"

"It's a bit of a long story, actually. I wouldn't want to bore you..."

"No, I'd love to hear it." Good. Make it long. Distract me.

"Very well." Britta looked off toward the ocean, staring blankly into the open space as she accessed the memories of her own beginnings as a vampire.

"I was born in a small village off the northeastern coast of Denmark in 1781. My father was a fisherman, and my family lived very modestly off his meager income. We were happy, though.

When I was sixteen years old, a young sailor named Hegen came to town to stay through the winter as his boat was repaired and replenished with supplies. He was strong and handsome, far too intelligent to be a simple sailor all his life. I used to sit and listen for hours as he told me about his adventures on the open sea and his dreams and ambitions for the future. He swept me completely off my feet in the four months we had together, and though he was much older than I was, my father readily consented when he asked for my hand in marriage.

I remember the spring day he stepped onto that small trading vessel. He would return in two months, and we would have a beautiful summer wedding. I spent every day of his outing planning my simple wedding, blissfully ignorant of the dangers of carrying valuable cargo across the open sea. When the report came back that his ship had been attacked, I was crushed. Hegen had been taken captive by pirates, and after six months had passed with no word from him, everyone gave up hope and assumed he was dead. Everyone but me. I refused to believe that my brave fiance would allow his life to be taken, not when he had a young love to return to.

I waited for him, eventually traveling to Copenhagen where he would be most likely to reappear. I visited the harbor almost every day for four years, waiting in vain for my lover to return to me unharmed. The time had taken a toll on me; I was near the end of my hope one morning when a shadowy character approached me with news of my beloved Hegen. The beautiful man, who referred to himself as 'Gilgamesh,' told me that he had seen Hegen alive less than two weeks earlier. My heart danced with joy until he explained to me the circumstances around his encounter with my betrothed one. Gilgamesh told me of how Hegen had never been captured, it was he who had allowed the ship to be ransacked. He took his share of the plunder and set off on his own, buying, trading and stealing his way across the Nordic coastline. He told me of how Hegen was fond of prostitutes and wenches, collecting them like dolls until he grew tired with them and threw them out. I would never have believed him if he had not shown me the very things he spoke of, using his strange magic to cause the scenes to appear on the glassy surface of the ocean water in front of me. I was devastated. All the anguish I had been living through, all the years I had wasted waiting for my lover – it was all a cruel joke. I was furious, and wanted nothing more than revenge.

Gilgamesh offered me an opportunity to repay the wickedness Hegen had treated me with. He offered me the chance to gain a strong, beautiful, indestructible body like his in return for my help in an ongoing territorial dispute he was engaged in. I agreed to his offer, and he took me to some remote place where he bit me and changed me into the beautiful creature I am today, just as I changed you.

We stayed hidden for three years as he taught me about the vampire way – how to hunt, how to kill, how to seduce. After my training, he brought me back to Copenhagen to fulfill my part of the agreement. Gilgamesh and his companions had been fighting for years with a strong group of vampires for the right to hunt in the city, and I was the secret weapon. I was asked to seduce the enemy's leader and bring him back to an ambush where he would be destroyed by Gilgamesh and the others.

I worked the plan to perfection – the vampire could not resist my advances, and he followed me to his destruction. Without their leader, the group was weakened, and after two terrible days of fighting, they were wiped out. Much to my dismay, however, Gilgamesh was destroyed in the struggle, taking the whereabouts of Hegen, and my chance for revenge, with him.

After the battle, I took to the sea, living among the fish, making the landscape of the ocean floor my home. I fed myself on the sailors and fishermen who crossed the waves above my ocean home, always hoping I would find Hegen and have my revenge. The seamen were great physical company as well, unable to resist the beauty of my shimmering body as I rose from the ocean to greet them.

Over the years I became a legend in the area. In some stories I was a mermaid, in others, a siren or a ghost. Their feeble attempts to describe me fell short. I was more than the stories. I was the goddess of the sea, I had everything anyone could want. Everything but companionship. After a hundred and thirty years of conquests, I became dreadfully lonely for someone to share my life with, so I came to this new land looking for a suitable mate. And I found you."

If there had been any saliva in my mouth, there would have been an audible gulp. So I'm her long awaited soulmate? How much worse can this get? The thought of the demon-goddess of the sea pledging her eternal love to me wasn't exactly one I cherished.

I was beginning to understand Britta a little, as much as one could understand about such things – things that science had no name for, no theory about. In a way, I pitied her. She had chosen this life out of a kind of pain and emotional damage I could never relate to. Maybe she didn't realize the terrible toll on humanity that her decision would cost. Maybe she never meant to add interest to her life by ending the lives of others. Then again, maybe she didn't have a choice...

A stream of banished memories made their way past my mental defenses as she gently took my right hand, lacing her silken fingers through mine. Is this my fate – to become a heartless killer like Britta? My eyes glazed over as I allowed the thoughts and images of the evening to replay themselves in my mind. The scent of blood and the thirst it provokes in me is so powerful, so...overwhelming. Is it even possible for me to stop once the scent takes hold? Is that the way things are meant to be? And if so, is it really my fault that I killed those people? I mean, after all, I didn't choose to become a monster. Maybe choice was a freedom I lost in the transition to immortality. My conscious mind tried to console myself with such thoughts, but subconsciously my entire being was throbbing with guilt. I am a killer.

The pain my conscience exacted on me as Britta and I sat in silence was unbearable. I had to do something.

"So, why me?" My question had come after such a long pause in the conversation that I was surprised when she jumped right back in.

"Why not? You're young, handsome, intelligent...and an ocean away from anyone close to you."

"So you were investigating me?"
"I was watching you, yes. I had to be sure you would make a suitable vampire. You can't just go around making newborns carelessly, you know. I had to be sure."

"But surely there were others...perhaps someone with a lesser aversion to...well, killing people and drinking their blood..." She giggled at the discomfort it caused me to speak of my murderous behavior.

It wasn't a joke. I was serious.

"Don't worry, darling," she said, still far too jovial for the subject, "you get used to it. In time, it becomes every bit as common as brushing your hair or tying your shoe. It helps if you, think of them more like animals. You wouldn't think twice about butchering a pig if you were desperately hungry for bacon. Humans are our pigs."

Her tone was so nonchalant it nearly disguised the horrific content of her explanation. I freed my hand from her grip, growing angrier by the second.

"I can't...I won't become the monster you think me to be. I am not morally depraved, people are still people."

"Not anymore. Trust me, you'll see." She was unconvinced. So was I.

"I don't want to see. I just...I just want to wake up and find that this whole thing was some terrible nightmare."

"You just don't understand how lucky you are, my dear Grant. You could easily have ended up dead like the first six."

"The first six?"

"Creating a vampire is a very difficult thing. Once you bite into someone, it's hard to stop. You weren't the first man I've tried to convert. Of course, you were my first success." She winked and grabbed my hand again, her demeanor like that of a swooning schoolgirl.

Repulsive. There has to be some way out of this....

As if it were privy to my thoughts of escape, the sun began its journey over the horizon, painting the night sky with the first flashes of color over the forested horizon further inland. It was time to move.

"Have we lost so much time already?" Britta was mildly frustrated, and her face quickly faded from a swoon to a pout. "We'd better get a move on, we need to get north of the border before it gets too bright outside."

"Where are we going?"

"Canada, I suppose. Well, at least we'll start there. There's plenty of open space to hunt up there; plenty of hikers, campers, families on vacation...it's the perfect place for a young vampire to learn. It's just too easy to break the rules here where the population is so dense."

"Rules? What kind of rules would bind you?"

"There's only one rule, actually, and it binds all of us. Keep the secret."

"So what happens if you break the rule?"

She became suddenly grave. "Very bad things. There's a group that keeps watch and enforces the rule. If they hear that you've been discovered, they'll destroy you without a moment's hesitation. Okay, enough of this gloomy talk. Why don't we start off running while there's still some darkness left? We can stick to the coast and get into the water once the sun is nearly out. I'm a little curious to see how fast you are. Want to try and find out?"

No, I want to see how fast I can run away from you. "Sure." There wasn't much point in trying to escape her. At least not right now.

Britta was back in her bubbly carefree mood as we sped into the forest just off the coastline, turning north a quarter-mile from the shore. Running at this speed was exhilarating – the rush of the wind, the crisp detail of the forest greenery as it zipped by, the perfect smoothness of my gate, even over the uneven terrain beneath my feet. Okay, if I have to be a heartless killing machine, at least I get to run really, really fast. At this point, I took consolation wherever I could get it. With Britta's instruction I pushed myself faster and faster, speeding effortlessly up the Pacific coast. My legs did their part with perfect efficiency, it was my mind that needed coaching. I wasn't used to this limitless energy; my brain kept trying to manage things it didn't yet understand.

I was just beginning to actually enjoy myself when Britta broke off the path, bolting suddenly toward the east. I paused for a brief moment to look, listen and smell. What was she – oh! Blood. Blood. Sweet, warm, deliciously satisfying...

I took off after her, but her experienced vampire body moved more quickly than mine, and I quickly fell behind. When she finally came into view, I saw her crouched over a limp body. Under Britta's ivory-white grasp was a dark-skinned girl, not more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Native American, I assumed. The small pile of plant roots near her lifeless hand must have been the reason for her early walk so far out into the woods.

The smell of her blood was strong in the air as I approached, and I could feel my throat burn with impatience as I raced to join the feast. And then, while I was still quite a distance away, a sight out of the corner of my eye froze me in my tracks. There was a gray blur surging through the trees directly towards Britta and her victim. Panic suddenly seized my body. There was a foul stench that now filled the air, something I felt an instinctual repulsion to. I hesitated for a split-second, debating whether to run or fight this creature.

Before I could come up with an answer, the beast entered the clearing where Britta still held her prey, meeting up with a second furry monster which approached from the opposite side. They had a similar appearance to a wolf, but with the size of a Clydesdale. In an instant they were upon her, leaping in unison through the brush onto Britta. A flash of ivory sent the gray one flying through the air, howling as it collided with a large tree. I heard a terrible scraping sound, as if someone were grating large iron plates together, while the image of the beast and the vampire blurred together, moving too quickly to be seen. The gray wolf climbed back on its feet and began to charge back into the fight. I have to do something. Even if she is a deplorable monster, I can't let these wolves devour her.

Everything in my vampire being was screaming in opposition as I charged toward the blur of black and white, not really knowing what I would do when I got there. I came within a hundred yards when a third beast jumped out of the woods blocking my path. It was dark brown, slightly smaller than the others, but still amply terrifying. It lowered its stance, hairs bristling as it growled thunderously. My undead heart melted as my eyes scanned the array of sharpened teeth, glistening like a cluster of bayonets in the rising sun. Have we broken the rule? Is this the terrible fate Britta hinted at just a few minutes ago? My mind was racing as the brown wolf inched forward, still thirty yards or so from where I stood. I ran through a thousand possible scenarios, looking for a way to get around the beast, until my thoughts were frozen by a blood-chilling scream. My eyes snapped to the blur of fighting as the scraping sound intensified to an ear-piercing screech.

And then I saw it.

Britta's body – immortal, indestructible – was split in two, each half in the grasp of the wolves' bayonet-teeth. Whatever life I had left in me drained out in an instant. I was dumbfounded. The wolf in front of me bristled and growled again, and the other two looked at me simultaneously, their coal-black eyes fixed on my location.

Run! Run, you fool! My mind was spinning, trying desperately to shake me from my lethargy, like a child waking his father from a deep sleep. Run, run, RUN! My panic turned to focus. There was nothing I could do for Britta now. It was either run, or stay and be ripped to pieces. I narrowed my eyes as I hardened my resolve; I would not let them take me easily. My mind reconnected to my body like wires to a conduit.

And I ran.

3. DISCOVERY

EVERYTHING SHOULD HAVE BEEN BLURRY. AT THE RATE my body was speeding through the thinning forest, everything in sight should have been a muddy mesh of green and brown splotches. I saw everything clearly, which is why I felt the weight of doom sink heavily over me.

The wolf was catching up.

I'd had a moment's head start as I bolted away from the three monsters (well, four if you count Britta), not to mention a narrow distance between our positions. With the amazing rate of travel that vampires seemed to have, I was fairly certain I would have been able to outrun the enormous hunters. That certainty was all but a vain hope now, as I heard the thundering of paws drawing ever-closer to my back. I had lost track of my distance from the coast when I followed Britta deep into the woods after the young woman. How much further could it be?

My despair deepened as I scanned the forest in front of me. There was no sign of a break in the trees, no indication that I was within reach of the water. I knew if I could make it to the ocean I would be safe. The wolves had to breathe; I heard them even now, panting rhythmically as they pursued me. If I could make it into the water, I could swim all the way to the bottom, to the ocean floor. They would never be able to follow me there; I would wait it out until they left to find some other creature to devour. The problem with my plan is that I would never make it to the coast. They would catch up to me and rip my body to shreds.

I became desperate as the thuds drew closer, grasping mentally and physically for any way of escape. I tried to replay what Britta had told me about running, working to forget the twenty-seven years of human experience that clouded my ability to move like a superhuman creature. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough I can move faster... I disconnected every non-essential thought from my brain, and focused on nothing but the movement of my legs through the forest. The brown wolf was almost upon me; I could feel the heat from his breath pulsing on my neck. If only I could move a little faster! I knew I was running toward the coast, I could make it if I could just buy a little more time. I focused more intently, ignoring the smells around me, the landscape of trees and greenery that flashed by, even the feel of the the moist soil beneath my feet. Every ounce of my attention diverted to the movement of my legs and feet. Faster! I have to go faster!

I don't know how it happened, but somewhere in my efforts to focus, a change happened. A new realm of understanding opened up in my mind, as if I were pushing a needle into heavy fabric and it had finally broken the surface, plunging effortlessly through the newly-made hole. Suddenly I could see in my mind's eye every moving part of my lower body, spread out like a diagram in front of me. Perhaps 'see' isn't the best description; it was less like a vision, and more like a deep understanding, like when you finally grasp a challenging concept, even if you can't exactly put words to it.

My other senses dulled as the focus went gradually deeper, moving from the large motion to more detailed processes. I sensed each strand of muscle tissue contract and relax in harmony with the rest of the bundle, I felt the stretching of the ligaments and the gliding motion of the joints as they rotated smoothly back and forth. As I peered into the inner workings of my legs, I began to mentally fine-tune every process - every muscle flex, every swing of a joint. I willed them to work more efficiently, more earnestly than they could do on their own, and by the great miracle of this new insight, I began to move faster.

I could still feel my senses reporting to me in the periphery as I micro-managed my every stride. The wolf was slowly falling behind. Hope sprang back into my body as I urged myself forward, faster and faster toward safety. I felt the peripheral senses fading around the edges, becoming blurry in detail as I concentrated more intently on my movement - it was like focusing a lens on a far-off object, blurring everything in front of it. I could see every nerve impulse firing in my churning legs, every cell responding in order as the signals came through. I understood every cause-and-effect reaction, every minute detail of my sprinting body, and with all the mental strength I had in me, I willed it to go faster.

The distance between the wolf and my body widened inch by inch as my sight vied for my attention for just a moment. The trees are thinning. My sense of smell affirmed my greatest hope – I was almost to the coast. I felt my pace slow ever so slightly as my attention strayed from running to the hope of escape. The wolf began closing the gap. Concentrate! Bend-flex-turn-repeat!

I raced to the coast like a machine, every ounce of my being yearning for the watery haven that gradually came into view. I never slowed as I cleared the trees and bolted across the stony beach toward the waves. With one graceful movement I plunged hands-first into the freezing water, never breaking stride as I shifted from running to swimming. I heard the brown wolf behind me slide to a halt, followed momentarily by a second set of paws. The beasts snarled and howled as I swam deeper and deeper into the surging water. I was right; the wolves couldn't follow me here. I was safe – at least for the moment.

Though common sense assured me I could slow up, I didn't allow myself a moment's reprieve. I wasn't taking any chances. I swam further out to sea, diving deep into the valley of the Pacific ocean as I continued to distance myself from the nightmarish creatures that had nearly destroyed me.

It was well into the morning by the time I stopped swimming. I let my mind relax at last, exhausted by the constant focus, and just sank, lower and lower into the seemingly bottomless sea. The memories of the last twenty-four hours swept into my mind, which was now open to thoughts other than controlling movement, and I was too weary to fight them off. They assaulted me one after the other, rolling like the waves of the ocean that surrounded me. I saw the face of the man in the corner – the first human life I ended. I saw the terror in his eyes, the silent pleading for his life. I saw the clerk in the office, the older man who had seen too much, the police officers... And now my memories of guilt were accompanied by images of fear - giant wolves ripping Britta apart, chasing me to within inches of my life. Life. Is that what you call this? My heart stopped beating...am I really alive? I'm not dead, either. What does that mean? What have I become?

I allowed the pounding of remorse and self-loathing to have free reign as I sank to the ocean floor, landing with a barely audible thud. I could feel the weight of the ocean pressing down on me with all its strength, pinning me to the ocean floor with almost as much force as the weight of my guilt.

I sat there at the bottom of the ocean for what felt like an eternity. Day and night had no impact at this depth; it was constant darkness. I must have thought the same things a thousand times before I finally regained the mental strength to break the cycle of memories. Yes, I've done terrible, wretched things. I've seen horrors the likes of which most humans could never imagine. I've undergone a monstrous transformation, but yet, here I am, thinking about it, detesting it. Whatever it is that I have become, there is still some part of the good man I was that still lives on in my mind. Sitting at the ocean floor for all eternity will never undo the wrongs I've done. There must be more to my existence than this.

I moved for the first time in what must have been days, disrupting the small collection of oceanic creatures that had taken up residence on my statuesque body, and began swimming toward the surface. I decided to keep the promise I had made to myself to explore the abilities of this new vampire body, and this idea provided the first positive thoughts my mind had allowed itself in a long time. The resistance of the water eased up as I approached the surface, and I could tell from the brightening light that it was daytime in the world above. A glimmer of comfort and relief passed through my mind as I crossed the surface of the water, taking in the sunlight for the first time since I had become a vampire. The wind blew violently across the rolling waves, causing the already-frigid air to cool even more. I had no idea where I was, but from the way things felt, I must have traveled north from the Washington coast. Gauging my direction as best I could by the position of the sun, I began swimming due east, making sure to stay just under the water in case I passed any boats on my way. It was late afternoon when I had surfaced, and the daylight was just beginning to fade away when I finally saw the form of land on the horizon. I swam faster, eager to be back on solid land, and reached the shore at last, surfacing as soon as the sun had moved out of sight. I was still unsure of where I was; I had expected to reach the coast of Canada, or perhaps even Alaska, but instead, I stepped out of the ocean onto a small, rocky island, with no larger land mass in sight. The ungainly outcropping of brown rock was small, a quarter mile across at best, with no vegetation or visible life forms living on it. Although it wasn't what I had been expecting, the rocky crag would serve my purpose of self-discovery well. I allowed myself a moment of happiness as I sat and watched the setting sun paint a masterpiece on the endless ocean horizon. This will be interesting, I thought to myself, as I began to form hypotheses in my mind. This will be fun.

I stayed on my crag for two days, testing my strength, speed, balance, and a hundred other things. This body was truly marvelous; it was a shame it had to be tainted by the urge to end lives. That urge had been growing in the background, overshadowed by my preoccupation with experimenting, and after the second full day of tests, it began to take precedence in my thoughts. My throat burned, my mind pleaded with me for sustenance. I needed to feed. Despite my best conscious efforts, I found myself reentering the water, swimming once again due east in search of something to satisfy my cravings. Once I reached the coast. I quickly moved inland under the cover of night, searching for my next victim. The decent part of me tried unsuccessfully to reason with the monstrous villain that had taken control of my body, but it was a lost cause. Reason had no traction. There was nothing in the world but thirst and satisfaction. I raced further inland through the frozen terrain, running for a half an hour before I came across the scent I longed for. It was a small tent sheltering two bearded men, who slept unaware of the fate they were about to encounter.

Their deaths were swift, nearly painless. That thought offered me little solace as I swam back to my crag in the morning sun. Four people. I've destroyed the lives of four innocent people. Surely there must be a way to stop this. As I wrestled once again with the guilt of my actions and the question of inevitability, a thought dawned on me. I remembered the way I had focused my attention on running the day I escaped the wolves. The thirst for blood, the burning in my throat...if they were a physical process, maybe they could be controlled. If I could stop the need for drinking, or even slow it down, maybe I could stop killing... The idea gave me new hope as I stepped onto my crag, my own private laboratory. I would experiment with my focus. If there was any way to change the despicable behavior my cravings drove me to, I would find it.

I spent the next nine days testing the limits of my new ability. Several commonalities emerged from my exhaustive battery of experiments. First, it seemed that I could only influence things that were, by nature, in motion – the movement of my limbs, the response time to an external stimulus, the processing of sensory inputs like touch and smell. Second, I had no influence over time itself. The sun still made its cycles without interruption, despite my constant slowing-down and speeding-up of things. Third, no matter how hard I tried, I could not make something stop altogether. This last discovery disheartened me somewhat. I had been trying to pay extra attention to the metabolism of human blood in my body, hoping to stop the process altogether. After repeated attempts, I concluded that this idea was either extremely difficult, or, most likely, impossible. On the tenth day of my scientific expedition, the thirst became unbearable, and the "Mr. Hyde" of my inward struggle convinced my conscious mind that if I could experience the instinctual reaction to the smell of blood, I could better understand how to control it. One human sacrifice would be worth the gain in understanding.

This time the victim was an elderly woman, one of the few houses with only one occupant. I was in and out quickly, carrying off the empty body, along with a pen, a notebook and a pocket watch with me as I traveled back up the coast. I uprooted a small spruce tree and replanted it, burying the body underneath before I swam back to my crag. The swim back took longer, since I had to use one hand to keep my new research instruments dry. Unfortunately, the longer swim gave me more time to reflect on the dreadful thing I had done to that poor woman.

This makes five. How many more sacrifices must be made before I learn to control myself? It was a rough night. I spent the rest of the sunless hours and the greater part of the following day in a slump, too frustrated with my vile nature to be motivated enough to continue my experiments. Eventually, though, curiosity won out, and I started to study the fresh blood that now rested inside my body. I had to find a way to slow the processing of this blood. I would not rest until I had a solution.

I went back to experimenting, alternating between focused concentration and mental resting periods. I was gaining more strength, but the effort it took my mind to focus on changing things left me mentally exhausted after a while. It was on one of these breaks that I had my next great discovery. I sat on the coast of my island observatory, amusing my weary mind with the movement of the pocket watch I had collected when the idea struck me – what if I could control something outside of my own body? After six hours of testing, I finally had success looking into the watch. I sensed the moving of the gears, the methodical ticking of the hands, the pent up energy in the wound-up device. The information flooded my mind, and I soaked it in. It took some effort, but I was able to visibly slow the movement of the watch, exercising some sort of mental manipulation over the inner workings of the little machine.

Over the next few days I increased my mastery over the little watch until I could make it very nearly stand still – or speed up dramatically. I was eager to try this new facet of my skill on other things, and the ocean around me provided me with plenty of test subjects. I caused fish to freeze in their motion and float to the surface. I sped a shark up so dramatically that it jumped five feet out of the water, landing on the crag. I created the world's swiftest hermit crab, nearly wearing out the poor creature as it sped across the crag like a cheetah. I tried my range out on the large birds that occasionally passed overhead, eventually stretching far enough to cause one to fall out of the sky. Oops! Another casualty in the name of science.

The months passed by quickly as I continued my pattern of experimenting at the crag. I stretched myself further every time; first thirty-nine days, then fifty-one, then sixty-four. I also stretched my inland range, traveling as far south as Vancouver on one occasion. Unfortunately, the result was the same at the end of my fast, no matter how long I stretched it. A dead body. A cover-up. Another death to mourn and scourge myself mentally over.

I knew my research was helping me gain control; I had developed a keen understanding of the entire physical process of ingesting blood and metabolizing it. I wanted to believe that I could eventually gain the self-control to stop hunting, but sixteen months and nine dead bodies later, I was still the same vile creature I was to begin with. I was a killer. And then, completely by accident, my outlook changed completely.

I was traveling inland one day to pick up a few science textbooks to study, as had been my custom, and on the way back, I became distracted by a lonely old man on a bicycle. The man smelled so delicious, I lost all restraint and followed him home, killing him for the blood I so craved. As fate would have it, though, my bloodlust brought me to a wonderfully serendipitous discovery. The poor old man was running an undertaking business from his home, and in my frenzied state as I fed off of him, I began drinking the blood from one of the cadavers in his cellar. The blood wasn't nearly as appetizing (or warm) as that of a living human, but to my profound relief, it was enough to sustain me. The revelation brought the sort of hope I had long thought to be extinct.

I could change. I could stop killing.

My new discovery allowed me to rejoin civilization for the first time in nearly two years, which was a most welcome change. Of course, it wasn't easy. Drinking corpse blood kept me strong, but it was a struggle. Live humans tasted much better than dead ones, and I still had to take great care to consciously curb my appetite and dull my sense of smell when I was around them. It was worth it, though. I was becoming a little more human with each day.

Mingling with warm-blooded people gradually became easier over the years as I gained experience with my focus. My concentration was getting sharper, requiring less of my total attention to function. In time it became second-nature, like keeping up good posture when in public. I had also developed my ability to control things outside my body, and I was now able to analyze and influence most anything I came across, so long as I was relatively close to it. I lived a simple, disciplined life for three years, feeding every other week or so, and visiting human establishments with regularity. It was on one of these routine ventures into humanity that my world was shaken up forever.

The spring rain was beating violently outside the small diner as I stepped inside, closing my umbrella and moving to my usual table. I loved rainy days – they meant I could go out during the daylight hours without detection, interacting with the human world as if I still belonged there. From the look of the storm clouds hanging low over the sleepy town, it seemed as if I would have the rest of the day at my disposal. I smiled at the rainy forecast as the waitress came to take my order.

"Good morning, Grant. The usual?"

"Two lumps, no cream. Thanks, Alma. Oh, and can you bring a copy of today's paper when you come back?"

"Sure. You know, it's a shame you never try the breakfast here. Betty makes the best ham & eggs in town. I think you hurt her feelings. Are you sure you don't want to give 'em a try? I'll send back the order, put it on the house..."

"Just coffee, thanks. And tell Betty it's nothing personal – I'm just never hungry in the morning."

She smiled and rolled her eyes as she strolled off to get my coffee. I hated having to drink the stuff; it was like sipping pond scum from a mug. It helped keep my cover, though, and I found it was much less of a mess to regurgitate than ham & eggs.

Alma returned promptly with my pond water, and more importantly, the newspaper. I took a dramatized sip to assure her it was hot enough for my liking, and picked up the paper to sort through the reports on the war.

Ever since Germany had begun their latest offensive I had been keeping track of the war in Europe, especially since Great Britain was so deeply involved. The thought to fight in the Queen's service had crossed my mind on several occasions, but the logistics of such a venture were laughably absurd. Keeping up with the news was the best I could do, and I did it religiously. I brushed my hand over the thin folds of paper and turned them over, ready to skim through the local articles and get to the international news.

I never got past the front page.

There, to my horror, sat two lines that stole my breath away.

GERMANY BOMBS MANCHESTER, LIVERPOOL.

COUNTLESS DEAD, INFRASTRUCTURES CRIPPLED.

A chill swept over me like ice water in my veins as I read the headline over and over, hoping to somehow realize I had misunderstood. There was no misunderstanding. Three words seemed to reach off the page to crush my non-beating heart, stealing my very life away.

Manchester. Countless Dead.

Please, O please, God, no. I scanned the article frantically, looking for any more details that might assuage my fears. I knew a list of casualties was too much to ask, but maybe the article had reported buildings or neighborhoods that had been hit. I found nothing useful in the words, no comfort, no confirmations. Worries stormed around in my head like angry hornets, their incessant questioning stinging me in crippling blows.

Was my family safe? Were they dead? Would I ever know?

I felt my composure slipping as the gravity of the information settled in. I fumbled through my pocket, pulling out a handful of coins for the coffee, and rushed out the door, leaving my umbrella behind. I walked as quickly as I could without causing a city-wide inquiry and bolted to the coast as soon as I was out of sight. I swam back toward the crag, focusing all my attention on the speed of my strokes. I pushed everything else out of my mind; there was only speed and movement for the next three hours as I raced through the tumultuous water. When I finally reached the crag, the full burden of the morning's news settled on me. I laid there on the rocks for hours, my body perfectly motionless as the emotions roared inside me. After much deliberation, I came to the conclusion that "never knowing" was not an option. Dangerous as it may be, I had to know the truth, be it good or bad. I had been away from home for far too long. I was going back to England.

4. CLOSURE

IT WAS QUIET. SO MUCH HAD CHANGED IN MY HOMELAND SINCE I had last been here that I hardly recognized it. The once familiar streets of Liverpool were desolate; filled with more dirt and rubble than people. The rows of buildings once buzzing with customers shopping store to store now stood empty. Some were boarded up, some had gaping holes in the roof and walls, some were gone altogether. It was a very different looking Liverpool than the one my family had frequented for a boating getaway so many times before, but it was not the sight of it that unsettled me so. It was the silence. These streets used to sing with the voices of children playing, running around blissfully unaware as their parents bought fresh bread from the bakeries, haggled over the price of a pair of shoes, or stopped to chat about the local gossip. It was always a happy place, full of life. The war had somehow taken that away, stealing the songs, the laughter and chatter, and leaving only the gusting wind and the faint sound of machinery clanking rhythmically in the distance.

This was not the England I had remembered. The landscape had remained essentially unchanged, but there was a tangible depression over the land, as if all the color had been drained out, and I was seeing everything in varying shades of gray.

I walked at a near-human pace as I made the 30-mile journey to my hometown, partly to avoid suspicion, partly because I was afraid of what I might find there. I was deep in thought as I walked along the quiet road, hardly noticing the first glimmer of sunlight as it washed muted colors over the barren fields around me. As I gazed into the distance I could see the shape of buildings – Manchester was only a few miles ahead. A haze of black smoke hovered over the outline of the city, darkening it even further in the cloudy morning as I approached the first houses on the outskirts of town. I recalled reading that several buildings in the city had been converted into "smoke factories" to make it more difficult for enemy bombers to see their targets accurately.

At least something was going in my favor.

I walked into the gloomy city, which had been affected much like Liverpool, and stopped a moment to get my bearings, reaching into my jacket pocket to pull out my trusty pair of sunglasses. Fortunately, they had made the trans-Atlantic underwater journey unscathed. I debated for a moment whether it would do any good to put them on. Over the past few years, I had noticed that my eyes took on a dark mahogany color after I fed. The color was almost natural - it probably looked like a dark brown to the casual observer – but if you looked closely, there was a distinctive reddish hue, especially around the edges. The longer I went without feeding, the darker my irises got, until they were essentially black. I normally wore sunglasses in public whenever possible, but the sunlight was so faint in the city that I feared I may look more strange with them on than without them. I would just have to make an effort to avoid eye contact whenever possible.

I decided to head to my parents' house first on the faint hope that they might still be living there. I arrived at the large two-story house to find it much as I remembered it, save for the poor state of upkeep the yard was in. I waded through the waist-high weeds and entered through the front door, my mind reeling from the flood of memories as I searched for clues. I took my time as I moved from room to room, enjoying each memory as a sight or smell evoked it. I saw the dining room table where we all used to sit and talk about the day's activities, the large cherry desk where my father spent countless hours studying, the hearth over the fireplace where we kept our favorite pictures...

A twinge of pain seized me as I looked at the two lonely picture frames that decorated the wooden shelf. One held a photo of my brother, Harvey, now looking more like a young man than the child I had last seen him as. The other held a photo of me, taken just weeks before I left to take the professor position in Seattle. The twinge of pain widened into a chasm as I thought of the grief my "death" must have caused my poor parents. I had meant the entire world to my mother and father. It was a tragedy to them, and I only hoped that they had somehow managed to find happiness after their grief subsided. I took the photo of Harvey out of the frame and placed it in my jacket pocket, along with a photo of my father and mother, and left the house, heading into town to continue my search.

It didn't take long for my world to implode upon itself.

I looked in horror at the names on the list of factory workers presumed dead in the most recent bombings.

-Willoughby, Alfred

-Willoughby, Margaret

Whatever warmth I had left in my vampire body escaped in an instant as I stood there, frozen by the words that confirmed my greatest fear.

My parents were dead.

I glanced down at the address of the factory where they were working – I knew the truth would be painful, but if there was any hope that they were still living, I had to embrace it, or put it to rest. Either way, I had to know.

I arrived at the address listed well after dark, and immediately my spirits sank. It had been nearly two weeks since the bombing; there was no reason for hope. This thought became more concrete as I surveyed the hellish site more closely. There was no resemblance of a building left in the place the large factory once stood. Bricks and steel bars lied in a tangled heap, charred black from the fire that accompanied the blast. I could smell the stench of decaying corpses entombed in the mass grave, and my stomach turned. My parents were in there, rotting away with the rest of them. The thought of it was so painful that I nearly turned and walked away, but I couldn't leave. They deserved a decent burial. I owed them that much.

It was half-past ten when I started digging through the rubble to find them, checking to be sure I wasn't being watched before I began. My heart sank slightly with each unearthed corpse I recovered. Some were burned beyond recognition, and though they were all too tall or short to be my parents, I feared that I may never be able to identify them if I found them. The searched continued late into the night as the body count reached 50, then 75, then 100. I stopped counting after that, as my search picked up in intensity. The morning light would be out soon, and I couldn't bear to stop searching – not now.

I moved quicker, throwing bricks and bodies out of my way until I uncovered the one thing I wanted – and didn't want – to see. There they were, my father and mother, huddled together, their bodies crushed by the weight of the stone and metal that I lifted off them so effortlessly. My body ached with grief as I stood there and looked at them, unable to move. I knew this moment was coming. I had feared, even expected it from the moment I first read the headlines in the paper over a week ago. And yet, despite my emotional preparation, the confirmation of my parents' death hit me as if I had been standing under the bomb with them. I longed for the ability to cry; at least there would be a release for my emotions. Instead, there was nothing. I felt hollow, like I was weightless and extraordinarily heavy at the same time.

I eventually regained the will to move, and carefully dusted off the decaying bodies of the people who had loved me more than anything else in the world. I took them into my arms, their mangled forms still clinging to each other as they had been doing in their last few moments of life. With a heaviness that words cannot describe, I began the relatively short walk back to their house. I dug a small grave for the two of them underneath the large willow tree that my mother used to sit and read under and buried them there in the morning light. I went back to the bombing site and brought back a large piece of stone, probably from the foundation of the building. I set it at the head of the grave, etching the inscription on it with my finger.

HERE LIE

ALFRED DOUGLAS WILLOUGHBY

1880-1940

AND

MARGARET MAY WILLOUGHBY

1891-1940

LOVING PARENTS, LOYAL PATRIOTS, BRAVE SOULS

REST IN PEACE

I spent the rest of the day at the house, unsure of where to go or what to do. The hollow feeling had never faded in intensity, and I felt unmotivated to do anything but sit and grieve for the rest of eternity. I pulled their photos out of my pocket, wishing that they could talk back to me, even for a moment. If only I could see them one more time... I placed the photos side by side on the kitchen table, adding a picture of Harvey next to them. And then it hit me.

Harvey!

The hollowness lifted momentarily as I raced through the thoughts that gave me something to live for. Harvey may still be alive... It's too late for mum and dad, but maybe I can still save Harvey, maybe it's not too late for him.

I had a reason to carry on. If Harvey was still alive, I would find him and protect him. He was all I had left in this world, I couldn't stand Idly by and let him be destroyed by this pointless war.

I set out the next morning after much grieving and soul-searching, determined to save my baby brother if he could be saved. The hollow ache was still there, but it was now suppressed by a much greater sense of purpose. Finding Harvey was the only thought that mattered to me now. I paid a visit to a local morgue in the early morning hours before anyone was there. It had been over two weeks since I had fed, and I needed to be as free from distraction as possible. The size of the facility was woefully inadequate for the number of dead bodies that filled it, a grisly testament to the realities of war. I fed on two that had certainly been deceased less than twenty-four hours and headed out of town, traveling toward London. If there was any hope of tracking down my brother, it would start there.

I started visiting offices related to the government or military, looking for someone who could help me find the information I was looking for. Fortunately for me, the war had moved every able-bodied man into duty, leaving women to work at nearly every domestic post. Women were much easier to deal with. The transformation to a vampire had brought as a side effect a certain irresistible quality about me that I was able to exploit from time to time on the fairer sex. I found that most of the ladies at the offices I visited were more than happy to give me whatever information I wanted, provided I asked nicely. After two days running the circuit of government posts, I had the information I needed. Harvey had enlisted and been deployed with the 1st cavalry division. He was not on record as killed or missing in action, and was stationed at a British outpost in Palestine. Within two days, I was stowed away on a cargo ship headed to Alexandria, Egypt, ready to move heaven and earth to protect my little brother.

5. WAR

THE DULL GREY VESSEL SAT LOW IN THE WATER UNDER THE weight of its cargo as I snuck inside. Much to my good fortune, it was loaded primarily with supplies, not troops. The crew was light, and they'd have no reason to check anything in the cargo hold during the voyage. I stowed away deep in the ship's chambers, wearing a stolen uniform I picked up on my way down, and settled in behind some palettes of canned goods.

The trip was easy, but dreadfully boring. After two days of sitting in the darkness staring at can labels, I was beginning to wonder if swimming would have been a better option after all. I wished for something to break the mind-numbing monotony, unaware that my request would have a rather unpleasant answer.

It was a quarter-past one in the morning when I first heard the unusual sound. I had grown accustomed to the noises of my surroundings – the steady hum of the ship's motor, the waves lapping against the hull, the idle chatter of the skeleton crew above me. This was a new sound, a subtle droning that increased incrementally as I listened. I was about to go topside to investigate it when the ship's alarm signal began to blare in my ears. I listened intently to hear what the sailors were saying about the sudden state of panic. We were being attacked, presumably by German Luftwaffe bombers.

I raced to the top of the ship as fast as I could without tearing a hole in something, and arrived on the deck just in time to be knocked off my feet by the percussive blast of an explosion just ten feet away. I quickly scanned the deck to assess the situation. Men were scrambling about the ship like ants in a kicked-over anthill. Nobody would notice my presence. There were six large turret guns mounted on the transport vessel; one on the bow and stern, and two each on the port and starboard sides. The inexperienced sailors were putting up a pitiful resistance in the black night sky as the bombers and their support fighters continued to ravage the ship, along with five others in the nautical convoy. My mind raced, looking for something to do to help. I couldn't allow my ship to sink – I had no idea where we were, and I didn't have time to be lost at sea.

Before I could give much thought to a plan of action, a German fighter cleared things up for me. The small plane swooped in low, strafing the deck with machine gun fire, and hitting several members of the already-small crew. One of these was the gunner on the stern. He slumped over, dead, and I knew what to do. I rushed over to the gun with lightening speed, trying to ignore the absurdly delicious smell that flooded my nostrils as the blood of the fallen sailors spilled out onto the wooden deck. With one action I removed the dead gunner and took up his post, putting my vampire-intuition into full effect as I momentarily studied the large anti-aircraft gun.

Within a moment I comprehended the intricacies of the device, and immediately began using it to fend off the large attack force swirling overhead. I was much better suited for this job than the human sailors who wasted their ammunition, firing blindly into the black canopy above them. I could see everything as clear as day, and for a much greater distance. My mind sped with superhuman efficiency as I calculated the trajectory of the planes, the speed of my artillery shells, even the effects of wind and gravity on the objects racing violently through the air. My heightened reflexes carried the results of the calculations through my extremities to the heavy gun with near perfection, as if the weapon were a fifth limb of my vampire body.

I was lethally effective.

The bombers and fighters fell like autumn leaves in a torrent, as every accurately placed shot tore through their thin sheet metal, striking the pilots and gunners that manned them. Not one shot was wasted. I spun the turret gun along its axis, using my mind to push the device to its very limits. The gears groaned as I willed them to move faster, while I fine-tuned the rotation of the shells in the barrel to improve accuracy.

A smile spread across my face as the attackers continued to plunge into the frigid waters. I envisioned the pilots as the very ones who had taken my parents from me, as my bullets tore through them, carrying my vengeance with deadly force. In less than ninety seconds, I had reduced the attack party from twenty-six to five, only missing the survivors because of the limited range of my weapon. The remaining planes turned to flee, a confused panic no doubt resounding in their minds. My smile widened.

Payback.

This was just a preview – I was far too good at this to stop now. I resolved to inflict as much damage on the Germans as I possibly could, all while protecting Harvey, of course. Once the attack had subsided, I took the fallen gunner with me and jumped into the sea. I had done well to keep my concentration during the battle, but the smell of his still-warm blood trickling out right under my nose was more than I could bear. I drained what was left of the sailor's blood while I sank into the water, and quickly swam to catch up with the ship. I was confident that no one would be suspicious of his absence in the confusion that followed the attack. All would assume he fell overboard after he was shot.

I reclaimed my hiding place among the cans, sitting once again in the darkness. This time, however, I had something to do. My mind reviewed the actions of the gun – the mechanics of the firing actions, the physics, the calculations. I compared the night's experience with the wealth of scientific knowledge residing in my perfect memory, forming shortcuts for the equations I had used to send my revenge flying through the air. Next time I would be even more deadly.

It was late March, 1941, when the ship finally arrived in the harbor at Alexandria. I was ready to disembark and continue the search for my little brother when I noticed a rather significant problem I had somehow overlooked until that moment – it was bright. Exceptionally bright. The persistent cloud cover that had aided me so conveniently in England was long gone, replaced with plentiful sunshine. In fact, as I surveyed the morning sky through a small window in the side of the ship, I was hard pressed to find any clouds at all.

Not good.

I hid myself in the engine room of the large vessel, hoping no one would find a need to come in there before nightfall. They didn't. As soon as the darkness came, I stealthily exited the ship and headed northeast along the Mediterranean coast to the port city of Haifa. It took far longer than it should have for me to find the Cavalry's location; the unfamiliar terrain left me walking in circles for a while. I finally found the them in the first week of April, stationed just a few miles from the coast.

I kept my distance from the soldiers as my eyes scanned faces for my little brother. Part of me wanted so badly to find him myself, to talk to him, but I knew that was out of the question. It had been seven years since I had left home for America, but I hadn't aged for six of them. I couldn't have Harvey recognize me, so I played it safe, using my superhuman sight and hearing to sift through the identical-looking Englishmen as they went about their business.

After a short period of searching, I found him. He was tall, about 6'1", with straight sandy-brown hair cut short and parted down the middle, and chestnut brown eyes. He may have taken after our father in temperament, but he took after our mother in looks. His face was still very similar to the boy in my memory; strong eyebrows and cheekbones, with an unforgettable dimpled smile that lit up his face with regularity. He was well-toned physically, no doubt a result of his military involvement, but underneath the muscle, his lean build hinted at his youth. He had just turned seventeen, far too young to be in this place. Of course, it was easy for me to see things that way. Harvey was barely ten years old when I had last seen him, just an energetic schoolboy. Now he was a man, not so much on account of his age, but because of the things that he had experienced. Things that no one his age should have to go through.

I watched him for hours, listening in on his conversations, trying to catch up on the years that I had missed, trying to get to know this grown up version of my kid brother. Many things remained the same. He was still stubborn and headstrong, with an iron determination like my father. He still enjoyed joking with his dry sense of humor, and he seemed relatively well-liked among his peers in the regiment. He talked several times of wanting to get back into the fight, expressing his frustration at being posted so far from the frontlines of the war. Of course, I couldn't be happier about the situation. If Churchill and the powers-that-be could keep Harvey here for the remainder of the war, it would make my protective duty a lot easier. Listening to Harvey go on about getting in the action, though, I doubted there was anyone who could keep him here for the rest of the war.

I spent the next six weeks preparing for the possibility of combat duty for the Cavalry. I secured a clean uniform and several weapons from the regiment's supplies and settled into a regular schedule. Daylight hours were spent eavesdropping on Harvey and the commanding officers of the Cavalry, studying the French and German languages, and honing my skills with a rifle. Night hours were spent mostly in Haifa and other nearby cities, collecting supplies and feeding often. The Italians had taken to bombing the area regularly, which, though a horrid thing in and of itself, provided me with a plentiful selection of fresh blood donors to feed on.

The monotony of my waiting routine was disrupted in late May when the cavalry was ordered to Syria to support ongoing operations there. Harvey was thrilled. I was worried. Fortunately, the cavalry's actual combat involvement in Syria was minimal. The regiment was moving further and further away from action involving actual horses, and after a month in Syria, the entire cavalry was reorganized to form the 10th Armoured Division. All but Harvey, of course. Things couldn't be that simple for him – he was so desperate for action. After the reorganization was complete, Harvey sought for and gained a transfer to the 1st Armoured Division, which was set to arrive in Egypt in November. If there was any action to be had, the 1st Armoured was sure to be in on it. For the time being, though, we had a lull in the fighting, which was perfectly acceptable to me.

Harvey met up with his new division in late November, and spent the winter training and learning his new position. He was to be a scout with the 4th Hussars brigade. Most of his fighting would be on foot, but he took to the armoured operations well, and hoped to get a position inside the vehicles eventually. The division was transferred to Tobruk, Libya in the early spring in anticipation of a German attack on the allied position there. Training and preparation intensified for Harvey and for me. I secured a small arsenal of rifles, anti-tank guns, rockets, and ammunition for myself a little bit at a time, and studied them exhaustively, learning every minute detail of their operation. I was ready. We were all ready.

The German attack came at last near the end of May, 1942. A mixture of tanks and foot soldiers attacked the Allied lines throughout most of the day and into the early evening. The attack was no match for the well-fortified allied defenses, and we repelled them with relative ease. Harvey even got in on the action, taking out an Italian tank and a few infantrymen. I wanted to do more to help, but the glaring sun forced me to keep a distance from everyone's sight, and even with my best efforts, I couldn't get the anti-tank weapons to fire far enough to be of use at my position.

As the first day of fighting drew to a close, I snuck out onto the battlefield to feed on the freshly dead and gather supplies. The blood was plentiful; I allowed myself to take in more than usual, and it felt great. I went back to my usual eavesdropping position outside the British camp, ready to keep an eye on Harvey while he slept. I was entertained with the usual chatter for the first few hours of darkness – men bragging about their battlefield heroics, plotting and planning for the next morning, soldiers chatting about what they would do first when they got home. It was all normal until about midnight, when I heard the low rumble of vehicles faintly in the distance. Who's moving tanks at this hour? Are the Germans reorganizing? It doesn't sound like they're retreating...

I ran quickly toward the source of the sound to check it out. It was a good thing I did. Just over a large hill to the far south of our position, a large battalion of armoured vehicles were slowly advancing, trying to flank the British defenses and spring a surprise attack. My mind raced. I should have known something was amiss today; the fight was too easy. Everyone's guard is down. If I don't do something quickly, it could be disastrous.

The bulk of the British force was sleeping; it would take them far too long to mobilize into battle formations. I would have to try and slow them down myself. I tracked back to the allied area, looking for any soldiers who were awake and battle-ready. There was a small, renegade band of free-french soldiers on patrol – they would have to do. Putting my newly-acquired language skills to their first real use, I called out in french, shouting warnings frantically. The small battalion snapped into action, and we raced back to meet the Germans.

Standing up to the German Panzers with this ragamuffin group was like fighting off a bear with a stick. The immense axis force, well-trained as it was, crushed the small battalion. I hadn't brought my arsenal with me when I came to scout out the sounds, so the best I could do was take weapons from fallen french soldiers and try to use them against the massive onslaught of tanks. My bullets bounced innocently of the steel shell of the armoured vehicles. This was a losing battle.

After a few minutes, the sound of the fighting caught the attention of a nearby group of Indian soldiers, who joined the resistance. This was my chance to warn the others. I raced back to the main camp with all the speed I could manage and burst into the camp where the 1st Armoured Division was sleeping, shouting this time in English. A young Major woke quickly and came to hear my report. By the time I had explained what was going on, Harvey and six of his mates were in tanks and headed to the battlefield. Bloody headstrong fool! He'll get himself killed! As soon as I could break away from the Major, I bolted into the darkness, grabbing my equipment before I caught up with Harvey. He was joined by just twelve other armoured vehicles; the rest of the drivers and tanks were still being readied. I checked to make sure which steel hulk was carrying my brother, and ran ahead to check out the situation. The French and Indian resistance had been decimated by the axis attackers, and were being overrun as I got there. The German and Italian tanks were in a spread formation, rolling slowly through a large, shallow valley. I positioned myself on the high point of the eastern slope of the terrain and prepared my weapons. Anti-tank missiles were notoriously inaccurate for humans, but with a little help, they could be influenced to hit their target consistently.

As soon as Harvey and his group came within sight, I began attacking. Despite my gradual hoarding, I only had seven shots with my heavy weaponry. I had to make them count. The first projectile exploded on the left tread of the lead tank in the formation, crippling it instantly. I couldn't stop the invaders, but I would slow them down and give Harvey and his mates easy targets. The second and the third shot followed in suit, bringing the large vehicles to a halt. By the time the fourth and fifth shots flew out, the 1st Armoured was in range, and they began showering the axis tanks with ammunition. My tactics had worked out better than I had planned. Several of the attackers were firing pointlessly in my direction, while five of the front vehicles were immobilized, making them cannon fodder for the allies.

My attention turned next to Harvey's vehicle. It was, of course, in the very front of the defensive formation, firing wildly at the sea of attacking armoured vehicles. I moved closer to his position, all the while looking out for any German movement that would endanger him. I tracked the trajectory of each incoming shot, making sure Harvey was safe.

Once I was closer to Harvey, I prepared my next shot, and was in the process of selecting a target when a calculation interrupted everything else and put me on red alert. A large self-propelled explosive was headed on a direct collision path with Harvey's position. My lightning reflexes snapped up the anti-tank rocket to fire an intercepting shot, and... nothing. A dud. I tossed the useless weapon aside, panic fueling the speed of my thoughts as I searched for another plan. I was almost ready to throw myself in the path of the artillery shell when a better solution presented itself. I picked up a large stone, roughly the size of a football, and hurled it toward Harvey's tank. The stone collided with the shell, causing it to explode a few yards in front of it's target. A close call to be sure.

My brother continued to do his job, firing shot after shot at the attackers, but his mates weren't faring so well. Where is the rest of the armoured division? I spotted an abandoned British tank that was turned on its side, smoke billowing out the hatch. Perfect.

No one noticed me turn over the vehicle in the dark madness of the firefight. I jumped in, and immediately began giving Harvey support. I was nearly as lethal with the damaged tank cannon as I had been with the anti-aircraft gun on the ship. Explosions racked the enemies as my shots struck weak points in their armour. Of course, this time the enemy was fighting back. Since my tank was immobilized, it was a sitting duck. It wasn't long before the enemy fire had so battered my weapon that it was no longer usable. I finally gave in, jumping out just in time to see the rest of the 1st Armoured Division roll into battle range. It's about bloody time! Harvey and the two functional tanks that still fought beside him were enveloped in allied vehicles, and the battle raged on for the next three hours.

Eventually, the 1st Armoured pulled back to the defensive line further North, but it was not a loss by any stretch of the imagination. Even Harvey would have to be pleased with our successful night campaign. We were able to slow the axis surprise attack and save countless British soldiers, who had the time now to set up a defensive front in the south.

The battle continued for four weeks, but the battered 1st Armoured Division saw little action as they worked to repair damaged tanks and regroup. By the end of the battle, the British army had lost 540 of 843 tanks, and Harvey's brigade was ordered to pull back to El Alamein, a critical stronghold 300 miles east of our position. Just days later, the allied defenses broke, and 35,000 soldiers reluctantly surrendered, giving the harbor city of Tobruk over to the Axis army. We took no solace in our safety at El Alamein; it was the next logical attack point for the Germans.

It was just four days after the fall of Torbruk that the Germans caught up with us. El Alamein was a major intersection for rail and road pathways, less than seventy miles from our African headquarters in Alexandria. We were determined to stand our ground here; failure would leave a clear path for the Axis powers all the way through Egypt. The fighting began when several German Panzer divisions attacked a large division of Indian soldiers several miles from town. The infantry was no match for the experienced German assault, and the 1st Armoured Division was sent in to relieve the Indians. We set out around noon and met up with the Germans in a large, open desert plain. I positioned myself on a small hill to the West of the main battlefield, ready to give Harvey support.

Harvey's brigade had come under new leadership since the previous battle, and the new commander viewed Harvey's initiative that first night of the Tobruk battle as insubordination rather than bravery. Consequently, my brother would be fighting on the ground, armed with one of those unreliable anti-tank guns. I had learned a couple of things from the previous month of fighting. First, and most importantly, I had become exceedingly aware of my brother's mortality. The battlefields were chaotic; it took all my efforts just to keep him alive. There was just not enough time or attention to split between protecting him and attacking the Germans. My revenge on the Nazis would have to wait. Second, if I was going to be of any help to Harvey, I had to camouflage myself in the desert terrain. The sun was always shining here, so I covered as much of my body as possible. I wore thick sunglasses, and covered my face in sun-dried mud. The sandy terrain of the battlefields allowed me to dig a small trench for myself (which I could do with amazing speed), allowing only my upper body to be above ground. Add a camouflaged drape above me, and I was very difficult to notice if you weren't looking for me. The final thing I learned from my war duty was that one can never have too much ammunition. I carried four German rifles and several hundred rounds, all of which I scavenged from the dead and wounded enemy soldiers. I found the German weapons to be more reliable and more easily influenced by my skills than British rifles. With my razor-sharp vision, impossibly steady hands and mental fine tuning, I could fire a bullet nearly two miles with deadly accuracy. I had been preparing for this battle for six months; it was time for my skills to be put to the test. I settled into my foxhole, checking and double-checking my munitions as I waited for Harvey and his fellow soldiers to come into range.

The first shots came from the British defenders as they caught the Germans off-guard. It wasn't long before the enemy regrouped, and the intense fighting began. Harvey's personnel carrier came to a screeching halt, as he and five other foot soldiers jumped off and began stalking their targets. My focus intensified as I scanned the battlefield, looking for anything threatening headed Harvey's way. The heavy gun he carried had a maximum effective range of 100 yards or less, so he would have to get dangerously close to the enemy tanks to have any chance at successfully damaging them. He slowly made his way forward, picking his shots well and scoring two hits on an enemy tank. Unfortunately, his success drew the attention of enemy fire, and I was forced to intervene in the battle.

As I had done in the previous battles, I began calculating the trajectory of enemy bullets and the most effective collision course to deflect them. My weapons blazed with superhuman frequency as I picked every threatening German bullet out of the sky, keeping them away from my all-too human brother. My stream of projectiles surrounded him like an invisible shield, deflecting anything that came within six feet of his body. The shield followed him as he raced from tank to tank, taking cover behind allied armour whenever possible. At times he was too bold, and he advanced so far that even with a gun in each hand, it was hard to keep the bullets off of him. Somehow, though, we managed to fight successfully together.

Harvey picked of four enemy tanks by the time the day's fighting was over, and I kept the enemy from picking off Harvey. The Germans pulled back, the British regrouped, and the next day the battle resumed. This pattern continued for four weeks, eventually resulting in a German retreat. We had stopped their progress at last. It was a turning point.

Over the next seven months, my brother and I helped the allied forces repel the German advance in battles all around the North African coastline. Harvey had redeemed himself in the eyes of his commanding officer (due in part to his unparalleled success as an 'invincible' foot soldier), and he was promoted and placed in a newly-formed scouting brigade. The fighting had shifted to North-central Tunisia as the German line fell back further and further. By mid-February, the allies had gained the momentum, and there was an end in sight. Morale was high, and with the recent addition of American reinforcements, the growing allied force seemed unbreakable. It was this foolish confidence, this misled swagger that drove me headfirst into disaster.

Harvey was sent to scout out enemy positions east of the Atlas mountains in western Tunisia. There was a large group of American soldiers holed up inside the triangular mountain range, and we were trying to find a way to meet up with them and push the Germans further north. The scouting party was small; four light trucks and a personnel carrier. I followed the convoy from my usual daylight distance, keeping about a half a mile between the soldiers and my glittering vampire body.

After a while, the landscape all started looking the same, and I found myself growing bored as we weaved through the narrow passes in the foothills. I listened in on the conversations between soldiers in the vehicles to entertain myself. They were as bored as I was. It was half-past four o'clock, and the convoy would be making the long journey back to the base camp soon. No one was paying attention. No one was ready.

I wasn't watching when the shot was fired, but I heard it as soon as it left the shoulder-mounted cannon. My eyes snapped instantly to the direction of the sound, scanning wildly to asses the problem. In the tiniest fraction of a second, I spotted it – a German rocket, heading straight for the lead vehicle in the convoy.

Harvey's vehicle.

I watched in horror as the small explosive shell raced on a collision course with the truck, unable to do anything to stop it as I ran with all my might to my brother's aid. Even with my vampire speed, I was still fifteen seconds away. I was too late. I saw the whole event in slow motion. The missile closing to within thirty yards. Harvey and his passenger turning to react to the sound of the weapon firing. The futile attempt to steer the small truck out of the path of the projectile. The men bracing for impact. And then, striking simultaneously with an invisible sword through my heart, the missile hit the back corner of the vehicle, exploding into a ball of flames and sending the three-thousand pound truck rolling end-over-end like a tin can. My heart melted. True horror seized every cell of my body as I ran to the flaming pile of wreckage that entombed my baby brother. I'm too late. Oh, God, I'm too late!

"Harvey!!!"

6. HYDE

TIME AND SPACE BLURRED INTO A SEA OF BLACK AS I RAN TO MY brother's mangled truck, hoping desperately that there was some way for me to save him. In that moment I didn't think about breaking my cover, about the dozen or so British scouts that saw my radiant skin flash by them in a blur of light. I didn't even think about the source of the rocket that had destroyed Harvey's vehicle. My thought pattern was singular - get to Harvey. As fast as possible.

I reached the overturned vehicle at last, and speedily assessed the situation. The passenger in the truck was completely crushed beneath the crumpled hood of the engine, his body engulfed in the raging flames that poured out from the engine compartment. I couldn't see Harvey, but I knew he must be in there somewhere. I gently lifted the wreckage out of the way, and found him lying in a slight indentation in the rocky ground. He wasn't moving.

I set the vehicle aside and leaned my head close to his body, listening for a breath, a heartbeat, any sign of life. It was then that I noticed the powerful aroma flooding my nostrils. I turned my head quickly away, covering my nose and trying to regain my composure. The smell was so enticing - my inner animal groaned and stirred me violently. Everything in my body urged me to feed. I had to focus - I couldn't allow myself to be distracted. Not now.

I pushed at the beast within me with all my strength as I turned back to my brother's broken body, trying to keep my eyes away from the small pool of blood forming under his legs. Focus, Grant. You can do this. You must do this. I turned what attention I had back to listening. Please, Harvey - give me something. Please... And I heard something. A faint pulse. He was still alive.

"Harvey - can you hear me? I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Just keep breathing. Keep breathing, Harvey." I began to peer through his body with my vampire understanding, trying to see where the damage had been done. He was lucky to be alive. He must have been thrown from the vehicle, which subsequently fell on him. The truck had crushed one or both of his legs, causing the flow of blood that continued collecting underneath him. He had sustained severe head trauma - his skull was cracked in two places - and several of his ribs were broken, making it harder for him to breathe. I tore the right sleeve off of my shirt and tied it around the wound in his leg, working with all my might to resist the urge to taste the delicious blood I was working around. He stirred slightly, still in shock from the accident. Hope returned to me for an instant.

"You're gonna be alright, Harvey. Just try to -" My words were cut off by an explosion just to my left. A mortar shell struck the ground, sending bits of rock and metal flying through the air. I covered my brother, shielding him from the shrapnel. In my rush to get to Harvey, I hadn't noticed that the attack was continuing. Mortar shells and bullets were raining down around us with deadly intensity. This was a full-scale ambush. My rock-hard skin shielded my brother from the projectiles for the time being, but I knew I had to get him out of here. I picked him up carefully, keeping my back to the ambush party, and ran west, looking for cover in the foothills of the mountain range.

Harvey open his eyes, still dazed and confused from the trauma to his body. His pulse was erratic and weak, and his breathing shallow. If I didn't get medical help for him soon, he wouldn't have a chance. I paused a moment to consider my options. We were over sixty miles from our base camp; with Harvey in my arms, it would take at least a half an hour, probably more, to get back there. His body lurched as he coughed and wheezed out a labored breath.

We didn't have that much time.

The other option was to get him to the Americans who were stationed right on the other side of the mountain to our west. It was a long-shot, but if I could find their position, I could get help for my brother much sooner. I decided to take the chance, and raced up the rocky slope of the mountain, listening intently for any sound that would lead me to the American soldiers on the other side. Harvey coughed again deeply, and choked out a broken sentence.

"What...what hap-...Grant? Grant? What... am I...am I dead?" I had been trying not to breathe to keep from smelling the blood, but I had to respond. This might be the last time I could talk to my brother. Aside from that, he needed to know that he was still alive - he needed to keep fighting.

"No, you're not dead. There was an attack, an ambush. You've been seriously injured..." I had a hard time continuing. My emotions were churning inside me with such force that it was hard to speak coherently. I could see the life draining from my baby brother, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Harvey was still struggling to understand the face he was looking at as we sped over the barren mountain.

"Grant? Is it...is it you?"

"Yes, Harvey. I'm... I'm here to help you. Sort of like a guardian angel. Listen to me - you have to keep breathing, okay? You have to keep fighting to stay alive. It's not your time to go yet." I choked up as I got the last sentence out. Please, let it not be his time to go yet.

"You're...an angel?"

"Yes. I've been watching over you ever since mum and dad died. They said to tell you they love you, and they're proud of you. We're all so proud of you, Harvey. You've become such a good man. That's why you have to keep living. You have a long life left to live."

"I miss you, Grant. I miss mum & dad..." His words broke my heart. If he only knew how I'd missed them all...

"Don't talk like that, Harvey. We'll be together someday, but not now. You can't give up now." His pulse weakened, as his leg continued to bleed through my makeshift bandage. His eyes closed.

"Harvey? Harvey, stay with me. Don't give up." I heard the sounds of the camp - we were close. He just had to hang on a little longer.

As I descended the steep eastern slope of the mountain, I spotted the American troops, nestled in a narrow valley a few miles away. I started to modify my course of action. If the Americans saw me running into their camp looking as I do, they would be more likely to shoot me than to help me. My shirt was missing a sleeve, and the flying bits of rock thrown off by the mortar blasts had torn holes all over it. I had no covering on my face or my eyes. They would be too terrified or curious to help Harvey like they needed to. I would have to be more discrete. There was no time for a sophisticated plan; I was almost there. I did the only thing I could think of. I laid my brother down just outside the southern end of the camp (the only area where no one happened to be looking at the time) and hid behind a pile of rocks several yards away.

"Medic! Medic! Help - I need a medic!" My superhuman voice boomed through the small valley, echoing as it faded into the distance. I moved further away and found a better place to hide as I watched two soldiers come running from a tent nearby. They spotted Harvey quickly and began attending to him. In a few moments, a battlefield doctor came running with his equipment, and started working on him. I listened for his faint heartbeat... It was still there, but it was growing weaker by the minute. How could I let this happen? How could I have been so careless? They knew we were coming - they were waiting for us. My thoughts turned back to a mental replay of the blur of events that left Harvey in this condition. I saw the faces of the attackers, sneering at me in my mind as they poured ammunition on my baby brother. Rage welled up inside me. Those bastards! They'll pay for this with their lives - every last one of them. I turned to head back over the mountain, leaving Harvey in the care of the American doctor. I'd be right back to check on him, but first, justice had to be done. My anger blazed hotter and hotter as I sped back across the mountain to take revenge on the cowards who had ambushed us.

It wasn't difficult to track the Germans; even if their footprints hadn't left a trail to follow, their scent would have been enough. I followed the smell of the marching soldiers, allowing myself to enjoy the aroma of their warm, blood-filled bodies a little too much. This was about justice, not pleasure. I had put far too much effort into curbing my desire for living human blood to slip back into that pattern now. Justice was coming for them – that would be enough.

I began to run as I followed their scent, throwing stealth and the element of surprise to the wind. I didn't care if they saw me. I wanted them to see me coming, to cower in fear at the sight of me. I wasn't concerned about blowing my cover. There would be no survivors.

When I caught up with the cowards they were unprepared. I counted seventeen men, two tanks and a large truck. I planned my attack as I slowed almost to a walk. No one even saw me until I was fifty yards away.

One of the men doing nothing spotted me and reached for his pistol, shouting in German to the others. Within two seconds, a firestorm of bullets poured over me, bouncing harmlessly off my diamond skin like rain on a tin roof. I smiled. This was going to be fun. In a flash, I was on them – I covered the distance so fast that they completely lost track of my position. I grabbed the first one and snapped his neck with a flick of my wrists. I sent another two flying thirty yards through the air before their bodies collided with a cluster of boulders, making a satisfyingly crunchy sound as their bones were crushed. Three of the soldiers had jumped into a tank and were trying to turn the turret in my direction. I was standing beside the tank before they could make a quarter turn. I lifted the tank above my head as if it were a scale model and hurled it onto the flatbed truck, twisting both into a mangled mess. Six down, eleven to go.

The fear was on their faces now as I stalked them slowly. One young soldier came at me with a bayonet, which I seized and used against him, piercing his heart as I ran it through his soft chest. The sizable amount of blood that spilled out from the wound caught me off-guard. I had been taking care not to spill any blood if possible, knowing that my will power had been stretched thin over the last half an hour. The sight and smell of the delectable fluid rushing out from the man's body flooded my senses, washing what remained of my conscious control out of the picture. I paused for a moment to try to reassert my will, but it was a losing battle. I could feel the moisture rush to my mouth, as a tingling wave of energy surged from my core through my extremities. There was a wildfire burning inside me, something far too strong for me to contain. I breathed in deep, finally allowing the beautiful smell to affect me with all its power. And I snapped.

____________________________________ Blood. Sweet, warm, delicious perfection. The flavor massaged every taste bud as it passed over them, flowing like liquid silk down my throat. I could feel the warmth as it started to cycle through my veins, filling every inch with a hint of satisfaction. The empty soldier ran out too quickly. I wanted more. I chased another one down and took him to the ground. My teeth cut through him like warm butter.

Ah, sweet refreshment.

More. I need more.

The others were running away. There were nine more of them.. I caught up with two and snapped their legs like twigs.

That should slow them down.

I grabbed another one as he was running away. This one was even sweeter than the last two.

More, more more! I quickly drained the other two. Mmm, full at last. I thought about letting the others run away, but killing them would be much more satisfying. I reached the ones on foot first. There were four of them. Their soft bodies were so easily broken! I punched my hand through the chest of one, and tore two others in half. For the last one, I had a better idea. I ran ahead to the tank that was carrying two soldiers and ripped the barrel of the cannon off. I set it aside while I smashed the men inside. Then I took my new weapon and ran back to the last one, who was trying to escape on foot. I hit him so hard with it that it should have broken him in half. Instead, he just flew through the air and smashed on the ground.

Nice.

I didn't know why, but I really hated these soldiers. Killing them made me feel great. I wanted to find more to destroy. I tracked the trail the soldiers left and got back to their base camp. There weren't many men there. Oh well, some is better than none.

I spent the next seven months following the German army, killing as many soldiers as possible. Monte Casino, Stalingrad, Leningrad. I tracked them all the way through Eastern Europe into Asia. I drained their bodies and then burned them. I got full every night. Every single night.

One Evening I was stalking food outside Leningrad and I came across a big, gray tent with a lot of commotion inside. Normally I liked to stick to the shadows, singling out one soldier at a time, but the selection was getting thin, so I went inside to kill them all. There were eight of them. I was so full, I only needed two or three. I broke the legs of two tasty-looking specimens and killed the rest effortlessly. The first one was a large man, and I felt nearly satisfied after feeding. It would be a shame to let the other one go to waste, so I walked over to take him next. We was spewing out words frantically, asking god to save him from the 'angel of death.' That's what the Germans called me. Most didn't believe I existed. This one did. Something strange happened with this one. He looked me in the eyes. He didn't say a word, but his eyes were pleading for his life. I felt a strange feeling wash over me as I looked over his face. He seemed so . . . familiar, as though I had seen him before. An ache formed in my heart, again, something familiar. I lost the desire to kill the young man as the ache swelled, swallowing my anger and hate up in something soft and cold.. And painful. He started speaking again, pleading with me to spare his life. His eyes cut into me, washing like cold water over the fire that was fueling my aggression. In a swift moment, everything became blurry. . .

---

And then everything became clear. My eyes darted around, looking for clues to my whereabouts. I was standing inside a drab gray tent, roughly the size of a large living room. Three long tables were arranged in a 'U' shape to my right, each holding a stack of electronic equipment. I saw one dead body, then another, and another... the smell of spilled blood wafted through the room with a faint breeze. What happened here? What have I done? How long have I been out of control? I was still forming internal questions when a weak voice broke the silence and stole my attention.

"Please, please don't kill me. Please...I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry..." The quivering voice belonged to a young soldier that cowered on the dirt floor in front of me. As I turned to look at him, a searing pain gripped me. He was young – not a day over seventeen, and he bore a striking resemblance to Harvey. I took an involuntary step back as I studied his face in the dim light cast by the flickering bulb overhead. Harvey. Where's Harvey? Is he okay? I remembered leaving him to go attack the German ambush party, but very little after that. It was night. How long have I been gone? The young soldier in front of me continued to plead in German, begging me to spare his life. He winced in pain and I looked him over to see what I had done to him. His legs were bent in the wrong direction – broken no doubt. But why? ...So he wouldn't run away? Oh, no. What have I done? My hunger felt unusually satisfied, confirming my fears. I had been in a frenzy, killing the German soldiers who embodied the sadness and loss I felt for my family. I told myself not to feel bad, that I was serving justice to these aggressors for the crimes they had committed against humanity. I wanted to feel hate for the quivering soldier before me, but I couldn't. I could only feel pity for him. He reminded me so much of my brother – far too young to be pulled into such a bloody, life-destroying fire-pit as war. I racked my brain for the right German words, muttering something to the effect of "I won't hurt you. I won't kill you," and turned to walk away. I couldn't bear to look at him anymore - not when my own brother lay barely living, or not, somewhere in the night.

I sped out of the tent and began scanning the surrounding terrain. This was not Tunisia. The rocky, sandy desert landscape I last remembered had been replaced with muddy plains and dense forests. Where am I? After spending a few hours wandering aimlessly, I discovered my location. Leningrad, Russia. I was over 1600 miles from Tunisia, which means I had been gone for more than a couple days. Dread filled my heart as I struggled to get my bearings and head back to the desert to find my brother.

It took me six days to make my way back to the mountain range where I had left Harvey. On the way, I learned a disheartening truth – it was now September 1943. I had been out of my mind for six months, wandering about, killing people and drinking their blood, all while my brother hung on desperately for his life. I was disgusted. When I arrived at the familiar stretch of terrain where Harvey was supposed to be, there was nothing. No humans, no signs of where they may have gone...nothing.

Despair.

I searched all over the region for weeks, but found absolutely nothing. The war had moved on from here some time ago, taking Harvey and his American care-takers with it. I chided myself as I combed the desert, searching in vain for a brother I may never see again. I had no peace, night or day. Visions interrupted my thoughts violently, flashes of memories from my frenzied state. They came in disconnected bits and pieces, similar to the way a bad dream haunts you hours after you've awoken. I saw the horror-stricken faces of soldiers I killed. I saw blood spill as I dismembered my victims. I saw dead bodies, large and small. Some were in uniform. Some were not. The unrelenting assault of images tormented me mercilessly. I had done the very thing I had sworn never to do. I had become a monster again, and it may have cost me my brother.

After finding nothing in the desert, I traveled to Alexandria to see if I could find information at the British outpost there. A terrified military clerk told me everything I needed - but didn't want - to know. The American unit I left Harvey with was involved in a major battle just two days after I went on the frenzy. Their unit had taken the brunt of the damage from the German counter-attack, and were subsequently dissolved following the fight. Any surviving remnants of the brigade were scattered over the war front. The British Army had listed Harvey as "Missing in Action." The Americans had no record of him whatsoever. I had no idea where to even begin looking.

I spent the next nine weeks searching every military hospital in the middle east and England with no results. It broke my heart, but I eventually resigned myself to the fact that my brother was either dead, or missing from me for the foreseeable future. I became despondent. The flashes of memories from my crazed state, though much more infrequent, still haunted me. I wanted to die, but lacked the courage to provoke the powers-that-be to destroy me, so I existed, if you could call it that.

My usual method of feeding in various city morgues was nearly impossible in the chaotic European continent. The understaffed establishments were often working around the clock, making it impossible for me to sneak in. As the thirst in me intensified, I sought out battlefields to feed on, but found that my will power was far too weak to handle the constant blood flow that accompanied them. Eventually, I settled into a routine, combing the battle-ravaged countries for bombing victims. Ironic. It was a disgusting thing; I felt as if I were spitting on my parents' grave every time I fed off of a civilian crushed in the rubble of their factory or home. I hated it. I hated myself. Somehow, though, I couldn't give up living. Something inside me continued, driving the rest of my hollow shell to continue the routine.

I found myself pondering these things one cold, November night as I roamed the streets of Cologne, Germany, waiting for another Allied bombing run. The city had been targeted frequently by American and British bombing runs over the last month, so I headed here, hoping to get lucky and find fresh blood. Apparently, fate hadn't given up on me altogether, and the Allied planes rolled in over the horizon as I watched and followed them to be the first one on the scene when the bombs dropped. Normally, the attacks were concentrated on industrial targets – factories, oil refineries, etc. Recently, though, the air raids had been hitting the residential areas of town, providing a far greater amount of casualties. It was this sort of attack that brought me to a dense neighborhood facing the Rhein River.

I watched from a quarter mile away as the bombs struck the buildings, ready to pounce on the fresh dead inside. The concussion from the blast was deafening, sending wood, brick and glass flying through the air like a dust cloud. The ammunition that leveled the neat row of houses had presumably been meant for a bridge nearby, missing it by three hundred yards. Sometimes this war really was a shame – the small cluster of ornate houses and manicured lawns that now exploded into flames had once been a beautiful, prestigious community. Now, hundreds of pounds of explosives had reduced it to a smoldering pile of rubble.

As soon as the plane was safely out of range, I rushed in to the scene, sorting through the debris for something to satisfy my thirst. It had been three weeks since I had last tasted blood, and my body yearned for it. After a minute of searching, I detected a faint hint of blood in the unpleasant mixture of scents in the air. I worked quickly, and uncovered a young woman, her body still warm with the blood inside it. I checked, as was my custom, to be absolutely sure she was dead, although I'm not sure I could have abstained if she weren't – the craving was so strong. Fortunately for my battered conscience, her head had been crushed, leaving her instantly lifeless. I swiftly carried the body to a dark corner of an imploded house to have my fill of its blood. It was more densely populated here than I was used to when I fed, and I didn't want anyone to see me. The building I stood in was composed of three walls, all standing unevenly between six and nine feet high. The only opening was to the river, which was safe enough in my mind to commence drinking. The warm blood was surprisingly sweet, full of flavor and utterly satisfying. I drank as quickly as I possibly could; both because it tasted so good and because I could hear the panicked screams of survivors who were clawing their way out of the rubble a few houses down. The blood flowed easily – it didn't take long to empty the rapidly-cooling body. I was just finishing the last bit when an unexpected sensation caught me off-guard. I felt something cold and hard press against my left shoulder with painful force, and the next thing I knew I was flying backwards through the air, slamming against the far wall of the hollowed-out house with a surprisingly light thud. My eyes would have been searching wildly for the source of the sudden motion, but it, or rather, she was staring at me eye to eye, just eight inches from my face. My mind churned like spinning tires – I couldn't think fast enough to process everything my eyes were taking in. Ivory-white skin. Perfectly symmetrical features. Intense, red-trimmed eyes. I added the pieces together in my mind, and my jaw dropped as I arrived at the logical conclusion. Unbelievable. Undeniable. This was... she was...

7. COMPANY

A VAMPIRE. THAT WAS THE ONLY POSSIBLE CONCLUSION. I would say it was the most logical answer, but all sense of logic and reason were drowned in the sudden rush of astonishment that swept over me. A vampire. A vampire? I know Britta said there were others, but... or is she a vampire? No, she has to be. The way she threw me across the house... I never thought I would actually see anot-

My train of thought was swiftly cut off by the vampire's first words to me.

"Are you crazy? What do you think you're doing? You're gonna get us all killed. Is that what you want?" She glared intensely into my eyes. I didn't say anything. I was unable to say anything. The only word that formed in my spinning head was "wow." I was dumbstruck. Awestruck. Starstruck. Basically, any other kind of "struck" that there could be, I was that, too. Every sense in my body was in a state of euphoric shock. I soaked in more over the span of three seconds than most people could absorb in weeks, allowing no small detail to go unnoticed.

She stood a few inches shorter than I, probably 5'6" or 5'7," with a body that even Michelangelo could not have sculpted. Every line, every curve flowed together like poetry, every proportion like a master recipe, matched to each other in smooth perfection. Though her statuesque figure would be enough to write novels about, it was but a prelude, a pedestal for the jewel that rested atop it. The most breathtaking face I had ever laid eyes on. My eyes raced across it wildly, etching a permanent rendition of its perfection on my mind. The lines of her manicured eyebrows, the shape of her eyes, the gentle slope of her nose, the hint of blush over her pristine cheekbones, the outline of her dainty chin, the smooth curvature of her delicious lips... all framed by fiery red hair that flowed to her shoulders like a silken river, weaving to and fro as it descended. It was the sort of face that, when you see it the first time, you feel as if you've known it forever. Comfortably familiar, and yet remarkably novel at the same time. It was the face of an angel, something no human could possibly possess. Every minute detail was flawless, as if God himself had hand-crafted her as the very model of beauty, the pinnacle of grace and elegance in all of creation.

She was resplendent.

It was not only her physical beauty that stole my attention. Amidst the visual nirvana my eyes were basking in, another wonderland of stimuli vied for my attention. Her scent. It was like nothing I had ever smelled before, something that words and pictures are powerless to convey. She smelled like sweet honeysuckle on a summer stroll, like the freshness of morning rain on a rolling meadow, like a garden of Easter lilies, with just a hint of the dark, rich musk of a red rose. And yet, her fragrance was somehow more than the sum of its parts. It was as if the honeysuckle and rain, the lilies and roses were the yellow and blue, the white and red, and the resulting aroma was the masterpiece painting they came together to form. I couldn't drink it in fast enough.

And then there was the sound of her voice. Again, the shortcomings of language hinder me from giving an accurate portrayal of the wonder I experienced. How can I describe it? Her speech had a decidedly musical quality to it. Bright and gentle like the violin melody in Bach's Air on the G String, with the smooth, soaring emotion of Brahm's 3rd Symphony (the third movement was always one of my favorites. But, I digress...) And then, there was something decidedly unmusical about her voice, at least not the traditional sort of music. There was a tranquility about it, like the soft chorus of chirping birds on a spring stroll through the forest, like an audible expression of that feeling you get when you're exhausted and your head first hits the pillow. There was also a soothing warmth to it, like the gentle flow of a brook over round stones.

The sound of her speech was so lovely, even in her harsh, half-whispered tone, that the meaning of her words had escaped me. There was simply no more room in my mind for comprehending them – I was too busy marveling at her beauty. I stood motionless, taking in every delightful nuance.

Apparently, the feeling was not mutual.

Visibly annoyed by my silence, she continued. "What part of 'absolutely no hunting in city limits' do you not understand? Seriously – have you completely lost your mind? Maybe you don't take Philippe seriously, but I know him, and trust me, he will drop you right here, right now. He's got patrols running all over the place. You're lucky I ran into you before they... did..." She stopped, turning her head to listen for something in the distance. "Oh, no - they're coming."

A wave of fear swept across her perfect face for a split second before the world blurred again. She grabbed two handfuls of my shirt and thrust me to the ground, landing directly on top of me as we fell into a gap between the wall and a large portion of the fallen roof. Her face was nearly touching mine; I could taste the delicious scent of her breath as she whispered to me, almost inaudibly. "Don't. Move."

No problems there. I could lay right here for days.

The heavenly smell of her nearness brought a panicked thought to the forefront of my mind as we lay motionless in the rubble. She smelled magnificent, wholly unlike anything else in existence. If there were wolves out looking for us, they would surely pick up on the fragrance, and if it was another vampire who was patrolling, it would notice the smell as well. Surely she thought of that, right? Otherwise she would have run away. Unless she didn't take time to think about her action at all... oh, dear! What to do? In my desperation, I turned to the only trick I knew. Maybe if I can see things at the right level...maybe I can influence the release of the scent... I quickly sifted through the endless pages on anatomy that I had stored in my memory during my years living on the crag, looking for any helpful information. Okay. Smell is a physical sensation...microscopic particles are released by an object, they float through the air, and make contact with receptors in the nostrils when they are inhaled. So, if I can just slow the release of those particles...

It was a difficult task. I had never tried to control my own body and someone else's simultaneously. There were so many factors to take into consideration, so many variables, and having a beautiful angel laying on top of me face to face wasn't helping my concentration. I reluctantly closed my eyes and pushed all my mental resources to the task at hand. Fortunately, I succeeded. The strength of her scent rapidly diminished to the point where it was barely discernible to my nose, which was practically touching her. I knew this dark patrolling figure would never detect it amidst the conglomeration of fragrances emanating from the smoldering buildings around us. We would be safe as long as we remained hidden from sight.

She sat up abruptly, though as gracefully as a fallen leaf in reverse motion. Apparently the threat had passed. I had been listening for something, but my ears weren't attuned to the sound of vampire movement. I started to ask what all this 'patrolling' business was about as I sat up, but she was already in the process of forming a question.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You canceled out your scent...and mine too. I could feel something...weird. What...how did you..." Her eyebrows were pulled together and her head leaned slightly to one side as she tried to understand what had just happened.

Adorable.

What was it she was saying? Oh, yes, the scent.

"I... um..well, I sort of concentrated on it, and...slowed the p- umm...uh...the process down. You know, like running faster, or...umm...or something like that..."

Now she was the one who went silent. Her head remained tilted, but her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying even harder to make sense of my jumbled answer. Not that I was making it easy. That perfect face was making it hard for me to even put together sentence fragments in an orderly fashion.

"Sorry," I said with a nervous smile. "I normally don't have this much trouble talking coherently, it's just...well, it's just that I've never really seen another vampire before...e-except for the first few hours after I was..uh...changed."

"Ah, so you're a newborn. Well, whoever changed you mu-"

"No, I'm...I'm not a newborn. I've been this way for eight years. I didn't know for sure if there were still others out there somewhere..." She looked skeptical.

"So...you've been walking around Europe as a vampire for eight years and you've never seen another vampire?"

Definitely skeptical.

"Well, the first several years were in the United States, but...yes. I've been walking around here for years and I haven't run across anyone else until tonight."

"Right." She said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Well, if the Volturi find you, you're gonna need a better story than that. You should be more careful – they're serious about their rules."

She stood to her feet and began to walk away. "Stay outside the city to hunt. And you're welcome for saving your life." Where is she going? Wait!

"Wait" I stood and started after her, catching hold of her hand. She spun around and rolled her eyes, as if to say 'now what?'

"At least tell me your name..."

"Coraline!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but the bright, chipper voice came from a distance. I looked over her shoulder to see who it was. The voice belonged to another beautiful young lady. She was shorter and younger-looking than the first, with dark brown hair pulled up in large curls. The sound of her voice and the grace of her movement (not to mention her beautiful features) gave her away as another vampire. How many more are there? I marveled as she continued to approach us, slowing to a stroll.

"I was waiting and waiting. We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago, and you're never late, and then I saw one of those goons sweeping the city, and – oh. Sorry, am I interrupting something?" She smiled a teasing, slightly devious smile as her eyes lingered on my hand, which was still clasped onto Coraline's. I released her hand quickly as she pulled it away and responded to the newcomer.

"No, this gentleman was just saying goodbye." She placed her hand on the younger one's shoulder as if to lead her away. "C'mon, we'd better head back home. There are too many people coming to check on the buildings – it's making me nervous." Luckily, the young brunette was curious. She turned to look at me.

"Wait. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Coraline rolled her eyes in passive protest, but answered the girl's request.

"Harriet, meet...-what was your name?"

"Er...Grant." I answered sheepishly.

"This is Grant," she continued, "he's never seen another vampire before." The last line was delivered with sarcasm so thick you could taste it. Apparently Harriet didn't notice. Her eyes widened with surprise.

"Really?"

"No, Harriet. Not really. He's just another one of those barbarians breaking the rules and getting us in trouble. Now, can we please go?" Harriet was intrigued.

"So you really haven't ever seen another vampire?" She asked with genuine interest.

"Well, basically, no. There was the one who changed me, but she died the next day, so..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Coraline was getting impatient.

"Harriet! Come. On."

"But...what if he needs our help?" At least Harriet believed me.

"Seriously, Harriet. You believe him?"

"And you don't?"

"Look at him. Does he look like a friendly vampire you want to take home?" Coraline's reasoning approach didn't seem to be having the effect she wanted. Harriet looked at me with a sort of pity.

"He looks like a lonely vampire who needs someone to help him. We should bring him home with us."

"No!" Coraline's reply was sharp and quick. "We're not bringing anybody home. Got it?"

Harriet was unswerving. "Did you read him?"

Coraline sighed heavily. "It's not like I need to. It's obvious."

"Coraline Gray! How can you pass judgment on somebody like that when you haven't even tried to give them a chance? Read him. If it looks bad, I'll drop the issue. Deal?"

"Harriet, we don't have time for this..."

"Please..."

"Okay, fine," Coraline consented, "but you're dropping it if I'm right." She turned to look at me for a brief moment, though it was more like staring through me than staring at me. After 2 or 3 eternally long seconds, her expression changed from irritation to confusion. Her eyes looked down, darting back and forth as she worked things out in her mind. After a few more moments, she looked up at me, still a bit of doubt and confusion on her beautiful face.

"You really haven't seen anyone?"

"No." I replied.

Harriet gave her friend a mild slap on the shoulder. "See! I knew he was telling the truth. And you were about to send him off without giving him a chance. We need to help him."

"Well, I guess we should do something..."

"We should bring him home."

"Harriet, I told you, no visitors."

"Just for tonight. Come on, Cora, what if it were you out here all by yourself?"

"Okay, okay. But just for tonight. Happy?"

"Very much so." Her smile was so bright I half expected the sun to come up in response. Coraline was less enthusiastic.

"Honestly, Harriet, sometimes..." She turned to me, glancing to my feet and back up to meet my eyes. "Try to keep up." And with that, she darted into the shadows, weaving a circuitous path around the humans roaming the streets and leading back to the riverbank.

"You can go faster than this, right?" I had decided it was better to direct my questions toward Harriet; she was a lot more amiable than her impatient companion.

"Of course! But you can't run like that in the city – too many witnesses."

Right. Okay, well at least that's the same... "Sorry," I continued, "I know these must sound like stupid questions, but I don't really have a basis for understanding in these sorts of things."

She smiled warmly. "That's okay, I totally understand. I would probably be asking the same things if I were you." We continued moving along the riverbank, heading south out of the city. The pace we kept was faster than a human should be running, but the difference was indiscernible in the dark, especially at the distance we were keeping from the buildings that lined the river. Eventually, we cleared the last row of buildings and moved up from the river, heading west into a dense forest.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To our beautiful country home," Harriet said in an almost song-like fashion. I could tell she was excited to have company. The sentiment was nice, but she hadn't really answered my question.

"We live in a small apartment building in the Ardenne," Coraline clarified, "near a town called Malmedy. You do speak French..."

"Oui. Ou Allemand, si vous préférez... (Yes. Or German, if you prefer)" I was fairly proud of the linguistic expertise I had developed during my stay in Europe. Coraline wasn't impressed.

"Good," she responded coldly. "Then you should have no problem finding your way back to...England, I assume? Most of the locals are friendly enough to point you on your way, but they don't speak English."

"Duly noted." I answered meekly. So, she's ready for me to be on my way. I guess I understand. She doesn't know me from Adam...

We finished the twenty-five minute journey in relative silence. I had to concentrate on keeping up with the two speeding beauties as they weaved through the thick forest of trees. They seemed to know the route well; no doubt they traveled it often. The path took us over endless rolling hills of spruce trees, laced with small brooks and streams. I understood why they went this way – there wasn't a soul in sight the entire way. Nothing but quiet nature. Eventually we topped a hill and I saw a small village in the distance.

"Is that..."

"Yep." Harriet replied before I could finish my question. "Home, sweet home."

We arrived shortly at the unassuming apartment building, located about four hundred yards from the nearest house. It was a quaint little two-story structure, with bright yellow wood paneling and white-shuddered windows. There were two large holes in the lower left side of the unit, most likely created by artillery shells, and you could see substantial fire damage inside. There was a sign nailed to the dirty wooden front door:

ATTENTION !

Bâtiment condamné.

Aucune entrée permise.

The building was condemned. Sounds like the perfect place for a couple of vampires...

"The entrance is around back," Harriet chimed in as she noticed me investigating the sign. The two companions flashed around to the rear of the building and leaped onto a rickety second-floor balcony, sliding open an unlocked door and slipping inside. I followed them into a small, modestly furnished bedroom that smelled faintly reminiscent of a chimney. Coraline turned and spoke to me in a cordial, business-like tone. "Welcome to our home. You can stay in this room tonight. I'll take you down to the village in the morning and see you on your way."

"Thank you. I really appreciate you going out of your way..." My trailing-off sentence was interrupted by Harriet's bright, excited voice.

"Wesley! C'mere! There's somebody you should meet." The sound traveled easily through the thin walls of the apartment. In a brief moment I heard two sets of footsteps faintly thudding up the stairs as she returned with yet another vampire-looking character. He was tall and muscular, with straight, red hair that parted down the middle.

"Grant, meet Wesley." Harriet smiled. The newcomer had a surprised, almost pained look on his face.

"Oh..." was all he said. Harriet slapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" He recoiled slightly.

"Welsey! Be nice..."

"Sorry, love. Where are my manners?" He chuckled as he rubbed the shoulder that had been struck, reaching out the other hand to shake mine. "Wesley Pemberton. Nice to meet you," he said with an unmistakable Australian accent. "I take it you'll be staying here tonight..."

Coraline answered for me. "Only tonight. I'm taking him down to the village in the morning."
Welsey's eyebrows lifted in playful shock. "Whoa, easy there Atilla! Why all the hurry?" She glared back at him with an intensity that would have been terrifying if it were not so breathtakingly beautiful.

"Don't you start with me too, Wesley. He leaves in the morning. End of story."

"Aye aye, cap'n." he replied with a wink. She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. "Don't mind her," he said with a smirk as he leaned in closer to me, as if she wouldn't hear it from the other room, "she's a little high-strung, in case you didn't notice." I smiled a nervous smile. I hated to be the cause of discord...

Welsey continued to talk in the same jovial tone. "No offense mate, but you look like hell." Another slap from Harriet.

"Wesley Douglas Pemberton! He's our guest. Be nice."

"Aww, ease up a bit, Hattie." He replied. "I said 'no offense.'"

"None taken." I lied to soften the situation. That's the third time they've mentioned how I look...it must be worse than I realize...

Welsey continued. "There's only one tub that works, but it does have warm water. And a mirror."

"Welsey..." Harriet was threatening another blow to the shoulder.

"It's fine, Harriet. Thank you." Still playing the peace-maker.

Welsey sized me up for a moment. "I think I've got some trousers that may fit you. Prob'bly have to roll them up a bit, though. And I'll get you a clean shirt."

"Thank you so much Wesley, Harriet...."

Harriet smiled warmly. "It's our pleasure. Right, sweetie?" She nudged Wesley gently.

"Of course" He said with a smile, as he eyed her playfully to be sure she was buying it. "Harriet'll get the tub started for you. I'll grab the clean clothes."

"Thanks again..." I said as I headed to the bathroom.

"Don't mention it, mate. Don't mention it."

There was a small mirror above the pedestal sink in the bathroom. I hesitated to look in it; after all the comments, I wasn't sure I wanted to see what I looked like. Reluctantly, I walked over to it, and saw my reflection for the first time since I had gone on the frenzy. I hadn't really cared what I looked like for the last several months. From the image in the mirror, it was obvious. I was covered with dirt and dried blood literally from head to toe. My hair was in a matted mess and my face was filthy. My eyes were different, too. The corona of burgundy-brown that usually surrounded my pupils was now a deep, crimson red. There was something...wild about them. I hardly recognized my own face. The tattered remnants of my army uniform shirt hung from my shoulders, more holes than fabric, and my trousers weren't much better. The room was dark – Welsey told me they had no electricity – and in the night-colors I looked even more beastly. I stared at the face in the mirror for a long time, thinking about the monster I had become. I thought of Harvey. What would he think of me now? Would he be happy I "avenged" him? And what about mum & dad? They would be so ashamed...

I thought this way for close to an hour, letting the remorse sweep over me in waves. I probably could have gone on for days, but the thought of my charitable hosts inspired me to clean myself up and try to get on with my life – at least for one night. My mind shifted to self-motivation. What about Harriet and Wesley? They've been so helpful, maybe they'd be willing to talk about vampire life... Now's your chance, Grant. There are so many questions you've been wanting to ask. You've been waiting for eight years to have someone to talk to about everything, and you've only got a few hours before the morning comes and you've got to leave. Quit wasting it feeling bad for yourself! Clean up and get out there. Harriet and Welsey deserve a gracious guest. And what about Coraline... Ah, Coraline... The image of her goddess-like face danced around in my mind, brightening me up as I stepped into the now-cold water and began washing off the dirt and blood. Maybe I can talk to her, too. If she could see that I'm actually not that bad a guy...maybe she'd let me stay another day...

The thought of talking to her again filled me with hope as I hurriedly cleaned up. The guilt and sadness seemed to wash off me with the crusted blood, allowing room for much happier thoughts to fill my mind. I dried off and combed my hair, putting on the ill-fitting clothes Welsey had left me, and took one brief look in the mirror before I went out to meet my generous hosts. The eyes were still a little wild, but otherwise, I looked like myself again. I began to feel a little like myself again, too.

No one was in the bedroom as I stepped out the door, but I heard shuffling downstairs, so I headed there to strike up a conversation. I turned to my right at the bottom of the staircase, following the sound to the kitchen. Harriet sat at the small round table in the middle of the room, writing something on a pad of paper there.

"Hi, Grant. Feel better?" She kept working on whatever she was writing as she addressed me.

"Much better, thank you." She finished her writing and looked up at me. "Well, you certainly look better... and smell quite a bit better, too." She said with a giggle. I had become so accustomed to the way I smelled over the past few months that I hadn't realized how much I'd wreaked of spoiled blood. The clean, non-sour smell under my nose was refreshing for a change.

"What's that you're working on?" I asked as I walked over to the table.

"Oh, this? Just a few random sketches," she replied, covering the book up with a mildly bashful look.

"They're lovely."

"Thanks," She said with a sheepish smile.

"Say, would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?" I asked, as I pulled out a chair and sat down. "I've been dying to talk to another vampire for a long time now."

"Sure." She replied with a smile. "Whadda you wanna know?"

"How many more of...us are there?"

"Who knows, hundreds?" She said with a shrug. "It's hard to keep a good count. Normally they're all over the place, but right now, most of them are staying in Europe, following the war. It's very convenient for hunting."

"Hundreds?" I was astounded. "How did I never run across any of them?"

"That's what I wanna know." She said as she leaned in, elbows on the table. "Tell me everything. Who changed you, what happened to him, how did you end up here..."

We talked for a while, exchanging questions. I ended up doing most of the talking, telling her about moving to Seattle, meeting Britta, the change...and her being devoured by the giant wolves. Just moments after I began telling Harriet about the monsters, Wesley leaned in through the kitchen door frame, an interested look on his face.

"Did you say your mate was attacked by werewolves?" I could hear the excitement in his tone.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call her my 'mate,' but yes, she was attacked by giant wolves – three of them."

"In North America? Amazing! I had no idea they existed over there. Tell me about 'em. How big were they? You said there were three. Were they working together? I've never known of them to do that..."

"Wesley!" Harriet said sharply as he sat down at the table with us. "This is not a happy story. His friend died..."

"It's okay," I intervened, "she was a wretch, a terrible person...and definitely not my friend" I continued to tell them all the details about my run-in with the wolves. Wesley shared a few stories of his experience hunting werewolves in Mongolia in the 1890's. Apparently they were believed to be extinct. Obviously, they weren't.

I talked for over an hour, telling the two vampires the story of my life from my transformation until now. Eventually, even Coraline joined us, listening from the doorway at first, then sitting in the last chair at the table. The four of us talked about all things "vampire" until the sunlight started peeking through the window. I learned a lot in that conversation. Welsey Pemberton was from Australia, he was changed sometime before 1890. He and Harriet were "mates," the vampire equivalent of "married" or "going steady" or something like that. Harriet kept her maiden name, Blackburn, and had been a vampire for a shorter time than I had. Coraline Gray was sort of the leader of the small group of friends, called a "coven" in vampire circles, and she was also relatively new to immortal life. I learned about the "Volturi," the governing authority for vampires, and about their cardinal rule: keep the secret. The wolves that devoured Britta had nothing to do with the Volturi, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The three others learned a few things about me as well. For one, I wasn't crazy. That was a relief. They learned about my origin and my journey to Europe, and plenty of other marginal things, but the most important revelation of the night was my eating habits. I wasn't a hunter – I was a scavenger.

"Wait a minute... what do you mean you don't hunt?" Wesley looked at me with a quizzical face, as if he were trying to figure out which part of my last statement he'd misunderstood.

"I don't hunt humans - I don't kill living beings. I take the blood from people who are recently deceased; usually from a morgue or mortuary. That's what I was doing in Cologne, looking for the freshly dead."

Wesley's confused expression shifted to one of slightly humorous pity. "Oh, mate, that's disgusting! You do know you don't have to do it that way..."

"I know. I want to do it that way," I answered. "I've ended enough lives already. I don't want to be the cause of any more death."

Harriet was visibly intrigued. "So, if you don't mind my asking, what gave you the idea of trying that? I mean, isn't it kinda gross?"

"No worse than taking blood from a living host," I replied, answering her second question first. Actually, I stumbled upon the whole 'corpse-blood' thing by accident. It's a long story, though..."

"We've got time," she said with a hint of excitement, "besides, I love stories."

"Okay," I obliged as she settled back into her chair. "It happened several years ago while I was living in Canada. On one particularly cloudy February day I decided to go into a nearby town to look for some textbooks on biology. I was really into that at the time – studying all things scientific. There was a small college just outside the town, and I had visited their library on several occasions to check out textbooks.

It was an intense struggle for me every time I went into town, and that day was no different. I took the largest breath possible before I entered, hoping to have enough air to last through my short conversation with the librarian inside. It had been four months and twelve days since I had last tasted blood, which was a long time for me, and -"

"Wait a minute," Wesley interrupted, "you went four months without drinking blood at all?"

"Yeah," I replied with a hint of pride. "It was hard, but I did it. I was able to get in and out of the library without making a scene, but it was a greater struggle than usual. I had to repeatedly beat back images of my razor-sharp teeth slicing into young librarian's soft skin, the feel of her blood gushing warm and sweet in my mouth... I kept the battle going, but I could tell I was losing ground. It was getting dark outside, and I decided to cancel the rest of my in-town plans and head back home. I didn't want to chance any more contact with a human in that state of mind. Unfortunately, fate and Albert Vandenbosch were teaming up against me as I walked down the path away from town.

I moved as far as possible to the other side of the dirt road as I saw him coming. He was riding a bicycle with a basket on the back, which carried a few basic grocery items. I held my breath as he approached, but it was too late. The sweet aroma of his blood reached my nostrils, causing the burn in my throat to flare like alcohol on a fire.

He smelled good. Really, really good.

I slowly turned and began to follow him from a distance. He was a large man, very round in the midsection, with a ring of black and white hair around an almost conical bald head. Why I took such an interest in him I will never know. Maybe it was the weakness I was feeling that day. Maybe he just smelled more appealing than the average human. Either way, the outcome was the same. He was weak, frail and alone, which made him an ideal target.

I was always keenly aware of the danger of being discovered – the memory of the giant wolves coming after me was still as fresh on my mind as the day it happened. I didn't want someone sending those monsters after me again, so I waited for him to go indoors somewhere. It was already taking all my mental restraint to keep from pouncing on him at once, and I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that I wouldn't make it out of this situation without ending another life.

After a few minutes of riding down the straight path in the trees, the man slowed down and turned left into the forest. I panicked, thinking he saw me and he was running away. I didn't want to give him the chance to escape – I was just going to track him down and take him right there in the middle of the forest. My mind continued firing off questions as I sped up to see where he had gone. I soon realized that he was not running – he was home. The man parked his bicycle and unlatched the basket from it, carrying in his groceries with him as he entered the small house. It was a one-story building with green wooden paneling and a shingled roof that sagged dramatically in the middle.

As I stalked closer to the building, I noticed that it was not only his house, but a place of business. 'J. Albert Vandenbosch Undertaking Services ' was written on the crackled sign that hung under the asymmetrical peak of the roof.

It was the perfect situation – he was inside now, in a remote building that was nearly camouflaged to passers-by on the road. There was no more need for waiting – I could have my fill right away. My conscience tried a few last desperate measures to break the seemingly inevitable slope I was sliding down, but logic was worthless by this point.

I had lost. I was going to kill him.

I listened closely for his heartbeat, deciding on the best point of entry to snatch him up before he heard me and had a chance to scream. He was in some sort of cellar below the main level of the house; I doubted anyone would hear him even if he did scream, so I went through the front door, removing the handle easily and swinging it open. He heard me. I had to move quickly. I scanned the layout of the small house feverishly, looking for the staircase to the cellar. Upon finding my route to satisfaction, I ran, nearly flying down the stairs, and tackled the helpless old man. My teeth were on him in a flash, and his feeble attempt at a scream was drowned by the blood that began filling his throat.

I lived up the moment, soaking in every ounce of pleasure in the sweet blood that pulsed from his dying body. He tasted good, better than any human I could remember, and I took my time, enjoying every last drop of liquid from his veins. All the animal instincts I had been keeping subdued for the last four months were now unleashed and in full swing.

Albert's rotund body had a tremendous supply of blood in it which should have filled my thirst satisfactorily, but after finishing him I found myself craving blood even more. A strange, vaguely familiar scent swirled in my nostrils, and I gave myself over entirely to my instincts as I hurled my body around the dimly-lit room, searching for the source of this enticing aroma. It was a frenzy, as my subconscious began acting entirely on its own, leaving my conscious mind out of the equation. When I regained my rational mind, I was crouched in a dark corner, ready to strike again. I took a minute to try and recollect my thoughts, sorting through the blur of memories from my frenzy, trying to make sense of the picture. I recalled the scent – strange, but still appealing. I remembered moving, throwing a table out of my way...the thoughts were blurry. I sat there for a minute trying to make sense of what happened.

And then the memory took form. It was a corpse.

I rose to my feet and began inspecting the mess I had created in the small earthen cellar. Sure enough, there was Albert's body, lying next to another small cadaver, probably a child. The body was cold and pale; he had definitely been dead before I arrived. I stood there perplexed, trying to make sense of my actions. The whole idea of taking blood from a dead person sparked a glimmer of hope in my mind."

Harriet made a pained face as she interrupted my story. "Wasn't it cold...and gross-tasting?"

"It was pretty bad, yeah. It tasted sour, somewhat akin to spoiled milk, lacking the inherent sweetness of the delicious blood Mr. Vandenbosch had provided me with. The disappointment of my discovery broke through the frail hope I held onto like a cannonball.

It wouldn't work. I was destined to be a killer.

I sank into a deep depression. I was about to begin cleaning up when something happened that surprised me, interrupting my dejection and regret. I began to feel drawn back to the soured corpse. I felt the urge to continue to drink, and a slight burn reappeared in my throat. That's odd, I thought to myself as I returned to the body, which had now spilled a good deal of its blood on the floor. I picked it up and sucked out a mouthful of liquid again. It was just as sour as before, but the craving in my body urged me to swallow, so I did, albeit with much effort. And once it was inside me, it felt right, like usual."

"So, you have to choke down that nasty stuff all the time?" Harriet was still caught up on the 'taste' factor.

"They're not all bad," I replied, "some of them are alright. It is a sacrifice, though. Drinking blood from a cadaver isn't an enjoyable experience. For one thing, you have to suck much harder, since the heart isn't beating to help you out. Not that it's hard or tiring to suck the blood out, but it's an effort. Another problem is the temperature. Drinking cold blood is no more appealing than eating dinner after it's been sitting out all night. The taste varies greatly, from almost-palatable to downright repulsive, and it's primarily influenced by the amount of time that had passed since the host has stopped living. After death, the cells in a human's blood begin decomposing, altering its taste and, to a lesser degree, its nutritional value (if you can call it that). Consequently, fresh corpses are much more bearable than those that had been sitting for a day or two."

I decided to conclude my story, which was beginning to resemble a biology lecture, before anyone became terribly bored. Coraline filled the dead air space, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. "So, the woman you were feeding from earlier..."

"She was killed by the bombing. I checked to make sure. I'm sorry if I endangered any of you. I had no idea there was a law against feeding in the city. I won't let it happen again..."

"It's okay," Harriet said gently, "you didn't know. It's not your fault."

Wesley was still disturbed by the thought of it. "How can you drink that stuff? It's so...sour. I tried once, and, I'd rather go thirsty."

"It's not as bad as you think, you just have to get used to it," I answered to the group. " If you catch them within the first 48 hours, it's actually quite palatable."

They all looked at me like I had three eyes.

"But, what about the cold? Doesn't that bother you?" Harriet was giving the idea more credence, but it still confused her somewhat.

"Well, yes. That is a drawback, but it's one I'm willing to live with. It's sort of like drinking cold coffee. The experience isn't as enjoyable, but you still get the effect of the beverage."

"Hmph! Well, to each his own, mate." Wesley said with a smile as he slapped my back. Coraline glanced out the back window briefly.

"The shops will be opening up in a half an hour." She said to me, still very business-like. "I'll take you down there. The villagers can help you find your way to wherever you're going." Drat! I had hoped I'd built enough rapport to buy at least a little more time with my new friends. Fortunately, one of them felt the same way.

"Aww, Cora, don't make him go yet, he just got here..."
"Harriet, I said one night."

"I know," she persisted, "but you can't send him off dressed like that." She giggled as the two assessed my outfit. The trousers were barely able to be buttoned, and they scrunched up heavily around my ankles. The sleeves on the shirt were also a bit long, and my army boots looked like they had been drug across concrete and run over repeatedly by a tank (which may not be that far from the truth). I thought I caught the faintest hint of a smile creep onto the corner of Coraline's exquisite mouth as she checked out the outfit for herself.

"Well, I guess you do have a point..."

"Easy, ladies. I like that shirt." Wesley was feigning wounded pride.

"So, can I take him shopping for a new outfit?" Harriet asked with enthusiasm.

"I guess so. But don't go too far..."

Harriet turned to me with an excited smile. "Have you ever been to Brussels?"
Coraline protested. "Brussels? I said somewhere close."
"You said 'not too far,'" Harriet countered playfully, "and Brussels isn't too far to travel for good fashion. You should come with us, it'll be fun..."

Coraline remained opposed to the plan. "I have to be in Hamburg by nightfall, I don't have time."

"I'll go with them," Wesley spoke up. "Don't worry, we'll get back before you do."

Coraline sighed. "Alright. But be careful, okay? You're the only sister I've got." Sister? Since when are they sisters?

"Don't worry, Cora. We'll be fine." Wesley's reassurance was convincing. Harriet got up and looked out the window at the morning sun.

"Give me five minutes to get dressed, and we can go. I can't wait! This is going to be fun." A glimpse of normalcy with people I don't have to keep secrets from.

This is going to be fun.

8. BRUSSELS

IT WAS HARD TO KEEP UP WITH HARRIET AS SHE WEAVED through the thick forest in a generally northward direction. Wesley had already asked her to slow down, but she wouldn't listen.

"Grant doesn't know the paths like you do, Hattie. You really should slow up a bit."

"There's no time, Wesley. If we don't hurry, we'll miss the 8:10 train, and then we'll have to wait around for three hours until the next one comes."

A train? Vampires on a train sounds...dangerous. "We're taking a train?"

"Sure. We do it all the time. Don't you ever take public transportation?" Harriet glanced back to see how far ahead of me she was getting, and slowed just a bit to let me catch up.

"I thought it would be faster to just run..." I had never been brave enough to stuff myself into a closed air space with a large group of warm-blooded people. The thought of it was intimidating. Wesley caught up with us to join the conversation. "Running would be faster for sure, but once you get out of the Ardenne, it's just too risky. There are too many people around, and it gets tiring to have to kill all the witnesses." He winked playfully as he delivered his last line.

"Wesley! We don't kill witnesses. You're gonna make Grant think we're terrible people..."

"Joking." he replied. "Just giving the new guy a hard time."

We started to slow up as a large cluster of buildings peeked through the thinning tree branches, eventually settling into a hurried walk. Harriet clutched onto an ornate pocket watch and looked at it every fifteen seconds as her little legs stepped as fast as "humanly" possible. Wesley just chuckled. "Relax, love. We're gonna make it. And if we do have to wait 3 hours, it's not like it's the end of the world..."

"Three hours in Verviers? It might as well be the end of the world. Do you know how boring it is here? Plus, I wanna go down that street with all the sidewalk sales, and they'll all be closed up in the afternoon. It should start raining around one or two. At least, I think it'll rain. It may just be very foggy..." She went quiet as if she were deep in thought as we sped through the sleepy town toward the train station. Fortunately for us all, we reached the Verviers station in plenty of time to buy tickets and find a seat. Wesley teased Harriet with a pestering "I told you so" routine, she countered with a little humor of her own, and I just sat there and marveled. They laughed and smiled like they didn't have a care in the world, like they were...normal. My life had been so serious, so life-and-death for so long, I had forgotten how nice it was to just relax and enjoy living. As I listened to the couple's bantering I made a silent promise to myself to drop the worries and troubles for a day and just have fun. Of course, not everything was fun and games. We did have appearances to keep up. Once the train picked up speed, Harriet went over some guidelines with me.

"Okay, so a few things to remember, Grant. First, we all stick together. Nobody wanders off alone. Second, Welsey holds onto the money. If you need to buy anything, just ask him for the cash you need. Third, absolutely no English. How's your German?"
"Fairly thorough. I had no trouble in Cologne or Hamburg."

"Good." She replied. "Normally Coraline does most of the talking – she has the best accent, but I should be able to get us by."

"And I'll be the strong silent type" Wesley joked in a low voice with one raised eyebrow.

"Wesley's not allowed to talk in public," Harriet teased, "that Aussie accent doesn't blend too well with German. Or French. Or, pretty much anything else, for that matter."

"You know you like it. Admit it." Wesley placed an arm around her as the train sped through the thinly-populated countryside in between stations. It was just the three of us in this particular rail car, so I decided to strike up a little more "vampire" conversation.

"So, Harriet, last night you said something to Coraline about 'reading' me. Is that something else a vampire can do? She seemed reluctant to try..."

"Oh, that? That's something that only she can do. I dunno, maybe 'reading' isn't the best word. She...she's very perceptive. She's always been a good judge of character – you know, she can spot the fakes, the ones who have hidden agendas. Even when we were kids, she always had a way of finding the mean kids and avoiding them. Once she became a vampire, it sort of turned into a special ability."
"Hmm...so she sees character?"

"Well, not exactly. She says she sees motives, kinda gets a general feeling from someone, and then figures out their character from what she sees. She's usually right on."

"And she's the only one that can do that?"
"Yep. A lot of vampires have a special ability of some sort. Like me – I can sense what's happening with the weather."
"So that's how you knew it would be cloudy today..."

"Yeah. Pretty neat, huh?."
"Wow. That is pretty handy. So, Wesley, do you have a special ability too?"
Harriet piped in for him. "Wesley's ability is to be supernaturally weird."

"Thanks, honey. Love you too." He acted miffed, but I could tell he was joking. "No, nothing special about me, just your average, run of the mill vampire."

"Oh, now that's not true. I think you're special." Harriet caressed his chest gently. Apparently she was worried she'd hurt his feelings.

"Well, at least I've got that going for me." He smiled.

It was 10:45 when we arrived at the rail depot in Brussels, and as expected, Harriet wasted no time getting to the stores to begin our shopping trip. We made our way through the crowded business district to the street with all the outdoor vendors, and she took off, flitting from shop to shop like a hummingbird to flowers. Wesley just stood there.

"What happened to 'we stick together – no one goes off on their own?'" I asked.

"You wanna try and keep up with that? Besides, she's still in sight."

We took our time, casually strolling down the avenue, as we waited for her to find something new she couldn't live without.

It didn't take long.

"Wesley! C'mere, hurry! Look at these shoes – aren't they adorable?" She held up a pair of black and white high heels, making sure to rotate them to give us the full experience before she tried them on. Wesley feigned enthusiasm.

"Yeah, they're great, love."

"Don't you just love 'em? They have got to be the cutest shoes I've ever seen. I have to have them."
"Sure thing, sweetheart." Welsey reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of cash, extracting a few bills for the shoes. Cash... Where did they get so much money? It feels weird actually buying something – I think I like it.

Harriet beamed as the store clerk placed her prized purchase in a bag. As soon as it was in her hands, she took off, heading to another shop a little further down the street. Welsey and I tried to keep up.

"Harriet – love, where are you going now?"
She talked as she continued to walk through the busy street. "Well, I can't just go home with a pair of shoes. I have to find an outfit to go with them."

Welsey scratched his head. "Don't you have plenty of outfits at home that will work with those shoes?"

"I have plenty of outfits that work with these shoes, but I don't want something to just work – I want it to sing. I want it to look as if they were created with the sole purpose of going together."

"Alright, but remember, we haven't got all day. Like you said..."

"I said we only had the morning for the outdoor shops. We've got all afternoon for the indoor ones." And with that, she took off again, scanning the endless racks of clothing, searching for the one outfit to live up to her shoes. Wesley grinned as we took a seat on a bench on the sidewalk. "She's got two whole closets at home stuffed with the cutest this or that she's ever seen. Guess we'll add these to the collection."
"Does she ever get the chance to wear them? I mean, do you go out in public much?"

"No, not much. But when we do, she's always the one dressed up. She'll never wear an outfit to the same place twice. I don't mind it, though. It makes her happy...gives her something to look forward to." It was obvious he really cared about her. How nice would that be – to be close to someone, to have someone that knew the "vampire" you and still loved you... I let my mind trail off for a few moments before Harriet waived us down from a quarter mile away. Apparently she had found "the outfit." I picked back up the conversation as we made our way down the street.

"So, I'm just curious – where did you get all that money? I've had to...well, steal things I needed because I couldn't buy them."
Wesley chuckled. "Don't feel too bad, mate. It's not our money. We lifted it from a bank in Antwerp. Of course, a the rate Harriet's going, we'll have to find another bank to rob before long..." I did feel a little better knowing I wasn't the only one forced into thievery by my situation. Of course, it still didn't make it right to steal...

"Oh, no..." Welsey groaned as we approached Harriet. She was holding two different outfits, one in each hand. "Here we go." He snuck a wink in to me before we walked up to her.

"Okay, boys, I need your advice. Which one goes better with the shoes? And don't say 'they both look great.'"

"Darn. Took the words right out of my mouth." Wesley joked, as he turned to me. "Alright, Grant, this is sort of like a game. You see, Harriet has two outfits here. One is the outfit she wants to buy; the other is the one is a decoy. The trick is to guess the right one."

Harriet sighed heavily. "Wesley! I'm serious. Which one goes better with the shoes?"

"The one on the left."

"Wait, my left, or your left?"

"Um... your left."

"Welsey!"

"What?" He had a dramatized 'innocent' look.

"You're just saying that to get me to hurry up."

"No I'm not."
"Okay, fine. Why do you like the one on the left better?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Because of the...er...um...ruffles...and, uh..."

"That's what I thought. Now tell me, really, which one do you like better?"

"Honestly, sweetheart, they both look fantastic."

"Fine." She said, turning to me instead. "Grant, which one do you like better?"

On the spot. Great. If I pick the decoy, she'll decide neither one of them are right (since I didn't like the one she liked) and we'll be here waiting for another half hour. If I can guess the one she secretly likes better, the problem will be solved. Of course, I have to have a reason I like it better, otherwise she'll know that I'm just guessing. Why me? If only there was a better way... And then the answer came to me.

"Why don't you buy both of them? You never like to wear the same outfit to the same place twice, right? But you love these shoes so much, you can't just wear them once ever, not when they're that great. If you get both outfits, you can wear your new shoes twice as often." She was silent for a moment while I waited on pins and needles for her response.

"Perfect!" She smiled brightly and handed both outfits to Wesley. "Can you take care of these for me? I'm going to go look for a hat." She bounded off for the hat boutiques, more skipping than walking. Wesley turned to me.

"Nice answer. Did you have sisters?"

"No. I'm not quite sure where that answer came from, actually. I think I was visited by the spirit of Aristotle or something."
"More like the spirit of Coraline." He replied. "She usually comes along on the shopping trips. It makes that sort of thing much easier."

"Speaking of Coraline and having sisters, I had a question I thought you might be able to clear up for me."

"How are they sisters?" He anticipated my question.

"Yeah. They have different last names... half sisters?"
"Not exactly," he explained. "They were both orphaned; Coraline when she was six or seven, Harriet when she was a toddler. They grew up like sisters in the same orphanage. Before they were changed, of course."

"Of course. That makes sense. So, while we're on the subject of relations, what's the deal with you and Harriet? How did you meet?"

"Well, that's a bit of a long story," He responded. "basically, I just saw her about a year ago, and something snapped inside my head. We talked for a couple of hours, and I was hooked. Vampires work like that, you know. We don't really change much, but when we do, it's big"

"So you've been living with these two for a year now?"
"Yeah. It's different – I've never really stayed in the same place for so long. It's not so bad, it just takes some getting used to."

"Is it normal for vampires to have...'mates?'"

"Yeah. I mean, it happens for some, and not for others."

"So, Coraline...does she...?"

"Don't waste your time, mate. That's a dead end street. I'm not sure I've ever run across someone more opposed to romance. She's all business, that one. All business, no fun."

Figures. She was all I could think about. Of course she wasn't the type to settle down with someone. And she wasn't exactly thrilled to have me around, either.

"I hope she lets you stay though," he continued, "it's nice having another bloke around. At least I have someone to talk to while Harriet does her 'shopping' thing."
"Thanks, Wes. It's good to know someone wants me around."

Harriet waved us down again, and we went through round two of "which one do you like better," this time with hats. Once we had resolved that dilemma, we picked up a few umbrellas and headed to the men's clothing stores. I was a walking mannequin. Harriet had me dressed up in all sorts or looks – casual, formal, military-influenced. We eventually settled on a semi-casual, academic look. Khaki trousers, brown leather loafers, several dress shirts, thin, V-neck sweaters to go over them, two blazers, a variety of scarves, and of course, a hat. No shopping adventure with Harriet was complete without a new hat. It was a good thing there were three of us – between Harriet's shopping for herself and me, we were loaded down with shopping bags. And then there were the umbrellas to hold. Just like Harriet predicted, it had started to rain in the early afternoon. We walked through the downpour, our shopping mission accomplished, and headed back to the train station to catch a ride home.

It was half past four in the afternoon when we boarded the train back to Verviers, and there was a much larger crowd of people than there had been in the morning. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to find a single car without a human in it. Consequently, the first phase of the trip home was very quiet. There wasn't much use in trying to talk; we were all holding our breath to keep from smelling the young man sitting two rows ahead of us. Fortunately, he got off at the first stop, and we had the car to ourselves again.

The fifteen minutes of silence had given me time to think. I envisioned my life here with this vampire "family" of sorts. I imagined making frequent shopping trips with the group, teaching them the benefits of drinking without killing, renovating the bombed-out apartment and making a permanent residence there. And of course, I thought about Coraline. Why is she so set against romantic involvement? Why is she so set against me? Harriet and Wesley seem to like me well enough, maybe they could convince her to let me stay. I have nothing to go back to in America, or England, for that matter. Why not stay and make a life here in Belgium with my new friends? The thoughts continued to circle around my head as we left the second station, now with the car all to ourselves. Harriet broke the silence, turning to face me from across the aisle.

"Do you like your new clothes?"
"Yes, very much. Thank you, I really appreciate you two going to all this trouble on my account."

"It was no trouble at all, mate," Wesley chimed in. "we're always looking for an excuse to get out and do something."

"It was nice having company along, though." Harriet continued. "I do wish Coraline would reconsider letting you stay..."
Coraline. What was it about me she loathed so? "It's okay, I don't want to be an inconvenience. I'll be on my way first thing when we get back."

"You don't have to go right away," Harriet countered, "Coraline's in Hamburg for the evening; I doubt she'll be back until tomorrow morning. You should at least stay until then."

I wonder what she's doing in Hamburg? "I don't mean to pry, but, what is she doing in Hamburg that's so important?" I knew it was a presumptuous question to ask, but I was curious about this mysterious girl that had so captured my attention. The two vampires exchanged glances for a moment before Wesley spoke up to answer. Yep. Awkward question. Nice going, Grant.

"She goes up there every other week to do business with other vampires. Nothing too exciting, mostly just discussing territories, hunting areas, that sort of thing." I sensed I wasn't getting the full story, but the version I got was probably more than I should have heard, so I didn't press the issue.

We filled the rest of the trip back to Verviers with idle chatter, and the walk back to the apartment with more of the same. For someone who had previously found chit chat to be dull and exhausting, I was surprised to find our conversations about 'nothing' to be...refreshing. I suppose it was just nice to not talk about something serious for a change. The sun was setting as we walked up the hill that the apartment stood on, painting the little town below us with pink and amber rays. I stopped a moment to take it in, daydreaming again about what it would be like to live here. If only...

Inside the apartment building, Harriet was filing her new clothes away in one of her closets, while Welsey shuffled a deck of cards with superhuman precision. I hadn't been on this side of the apartment yet. There were four units in the building. The pair of units upstairs had two bedrooms and a small kitchenette, the downstairs units had one bedroom, but a much larger kitchen/dining room combination room. The "family" lived primarily in the upstairs portion, mostly to avoid detection by people walking by. And then, of course, one of the downstairs units had severe damage to it. Apparently the side I had spent time in the previous night was Coraline's.

The bedroom belonging to Harriet and Welsey was much more welcoming and "homey" than the one on the other side of the wall. For one thing, there were decorations. Several oil paintings hung on the plaster walls, adding a bit of needed color to the generally drab tones of the apartment. There was a bouquet of wildflowers in a large vase on a nightstand, and two of the corners were occupied by a full length mirror and an art easel. After taking a peak at Harriet's closet full of "can't-live-without's," I walked over to Wesley and watched him shuffle his cards.

"You much of a gambling man, Grant?" He asked, as he continued to shuffle the deck without looking.

"Well, I never was much for gambling, but I do enjoy a good hand of cards now and then. Or, at least, I used too. I couldn't tell you the last time I've played."

"We'll just have to get you up to speed then, right Hattie?"

"Uh-huh." She was too engrossed with fitting her new purchases into an overstuffed closet to pay much attention.

Wesley reached under the bed and pulled out a wooden box with a large roll of cash inside. He separated a stack and handed it to me.

"Here you go. I'll give you a head start. Do you remember how to play five card draw?"

"I think so."

"Good. This'll be interesting."

Once Harriet had solved her closet puzzle, the three of us descended the single staircase in the building and sat around the table in the kitchen on the ground floor (the liveable ground floor apartment was on Wes & Harriet's side). Wesley dealt out the cards, and we began playing poker.

It didn't take long to see why he has so enthused to play. He was good. Very, very good. He knew Harriet all too well; she bought every bluff he put on, often folding with the best hand of the three of us. Obviously they played this game often – Harriet started out the game with a huge stack of money compared to the meager pile of cash Wesley began with. After several rounds (and plenty of contributions from my stockpile), he had completely reversed the cash piles. Harriet resigned once the odds looked insurmountable, and I lost my stash on the next hand. Wesley beamed with confidence as he pooled all the money into one large pile.

"Thank you very much, mates, I believe that's the easiest thirty-thousand francs I've ever made."

"You just won 'cause Coraline's not here." Harriet wasn't an especially poor sport, but Wesley's incessant gloating drew the bitterness of losing out of her.

"Coraline? I usually win when she's here, too." He turned to me to continue reveling in his victory. "You see, Hattie always thinks I'm holding a good hand, while Coraline always thinks I'm bluffing. The only time I lose is when they pick the wrong time to guess right. It's fun playing with someone that I don't know how to work over yet. Wanna play another round? How about seven card stud this time?"

"No!" Harriet interjected. "I've had enough Poker for one night. Let's play a game of Rummy."

"Aww, c'mon, where's the fun in that? There's no wagering..."

"Exactly. Only luck and skill. What's wrong, are you afraid of a little even competition?"

"Of course not. Deal it up." Welsey knew how to work Harriet in the the card game; Harriet knew how to work him outside the card game. It was comical.

We sat at the table and played just about every card game we knew, losing track of the time. Harriet eventually looked at the clock, pausing a moment before snapping into panic mode. "Wesley! It's 4:32! We've gotta get him outta here!" She hurriedly got up from the table, speaking to me so fast I was having a hard time following her. "Coraline's always home by 4:30. She's never more than a few minutes late. She could walk in here at any moment, and if she does, and you're still here, my goose will be cooked. Here," she thrust a handful of cash in my direction, "take this, go down to the village, and on the far end there's a big, white, three-story building. Go inside and ask them for a room for a few days. We'll sneak out and meet you in a few hours. I'm gonna try to talk to Coraline again about letting you hang around for a while." She looked back at the clock, and her voice jumped up another octave. "Hurry – you have to go now! Wesley, grab the rest of his clothes from upstairs. You can follow him over there..."

Wesley grinned and moved up from the table slowly. "Relax, love. We're going. It'll be fine."

"Nothing's going to be fine if you don't MOVE IT! Now!" I was afraid the front window was going to crack from the decibel level as she ran into the small living room to look out (the kitchen was on the back side of the unit). I was already heading back up the stairs when I heard her shouts turn to frantic whispers. "Oh! Oh, she's coming. I can see her. Hurry, Grant. And don't let her see you!"

I hurried out the back door and hid in the woods behind the apartment, just out of sight. I would get to the Inn eventually, but for now I was curious about how this was going to play out. That, and I wanted to see Coraline again, even if it was from a distance. I listened a little harder and was still able to hear Harriet and Wesley conversing in hushed tones inside. Harriet didn't sound happy.

"Wesley! Where are you going?"

"I think I'll go out for a snack before sunrise."

"What? You can't leave me alone with her! I need you as backup."

"Harriet, sweetheart, this is between you and your sister. I'll leave you to it. Don't worry, I'll be back before long."

I heard him bounding up the stairs and watched as he jumped off the balcony and bolted effortlessly into the woods, just a stone's throw from my position. I concentrated on stifling my scent, and settled into my hiding spot to wait for Coraline to arrive. I had always been terrible about eavesdropping. No matter how many times my parents would scold me for it, I just couldn't keep from listening in on their conversations. I never wanted to feel out of the loop. Now, with this set of vampire skills at my disposal, I was a world-class eavesdropper. Luckily, I didn't have to wait more than twenty seconds before Coraline came sneaking across the countryside. She was so beautiful in motion; her movement was as well put-together as her immaculate figure, coordinated in a smooth perfection no human could aspire to. I watched, awestruck once again, as she slipped gracefully across the yard and through the door on the upstairs balcony, her red hair flowing behind her like the tail on a comet. It was breathtaking.

Once the show was over, I crept in a little closer to the apartment and began listening for the ensuing conversation between the two vampire sisters.

"Hey Cora, how was your trip?"
"Oh, you know – the usual. Long and boring."

"I'm glad it's you and not me going there all the time."

"Yeah, you should be. Hey, where's Wesley?"

"Oh, he...uh...he went out for a snack."
"Already? He just hunted three days ago..."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe the shopping trip was getting to him...all that time surrounded by people, and then the train ride home... I'm sure it's just a mental thing."

"Yeah, I guess that does make sense. So how was the shopping trip? Did you find anything cute?"
"Oh yeah. I found these shoes that were absolutely to die for. So cute. You would love them."
"Good. And Grant – did you get everything he needed?"
"Yeah, we got him a few outfits."

"When did you guys get back?"

"Yesterday evening... I dunno, about six o'clock..."

"That's funny - the house still smells like him... Guess I'm just not used to his scent..."

Oops! Pay more attention to your smell, Grant! Focus... focus... now, what were they saying? I listened in again once my scent was sufficiently inhibited. It was Harriet's voice that I picked out first...

"So..."

"So...um..."

Awkward silence. I was glad I wasn't there. Harriet spoke up again after a moment.

"So...about Grant..."

"Yeah, about him...I wanted to talk to you..."

"Me too."

"Hattie, I... I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last night. I was thinking about it all the way back from Hamburg. I was rude, and I'm sorry. I know I'm no fun to be around when I get that way. It's just... well, the whole thing made me nervous, and I'm trying to protect you, and..."

"I understand, Cor... you're my big sister, I get it...."

"You do understand that you're the most important thing in the world to me, right? I hope you understand...everything I do is to protect you."

"I know. But honestly, Cora, I think you're wrong about him. He's really nice, and really lonely. He just needs a few friends."

Coraline sighed heavily. "Hattie, you don't understand. He's dangerous. That's why I didn't want him around you. I don't trust him."

"Dangerous? How do you know that? Didn't you read him?"

"Yeah, I read him, and that's the problem. None of it made sense. I can't get a good bearing on him. And you know what that means..."

"Coraline, he's not Rodney. Not even close."

"You don't know that, Harriet. He could be playing us just like Rodney. I can't let that happen again. I won't...."

I could tell Harriet was getting a little upset.

"You can't keep throwing that in my face, Coraline. It was almost a year ago. I was wrong, okay? How many times do I have to admit it? I should have listened to you, I know. But just because I was wrong about Rodney doesn't mean I'm wrong about Grant. You should give him a chance."

"I'm not trying to throw anything in your face, Hattie. I'm just nervous. I don't want anyone to find you. You understand?"

"Well, I think I should have some say in my own safekeeping. Let him stick around for a while. If I'm right, we've got nothing to worry about. If I'm wrong, then I'm sure you'll pick up on it, and the three of us can handle him."

"See, that's just the problem. I'm not sure I can pick up on it. There's a part of me... well, there's a part of me that wants him to stay, and that scares me, 'cause my instinct is telling me to get away from him. I don't know which side to listen to, and I'm afraid of making the wrong decision again. I'd rather be on the safe side."

"Have you ever thought that your prejudice is messing with your ability?"

"What?"

"Okay. Rodney was a bad guy, and you kept getting mixed signals from him."

"So..."

"You wanted to feel good about him, Coraline. Wesley and I were practically begging you to. Did you ever think that the reason everything was so cloudy was because you kept looking for one thing, when your insight was telling you something different? You couldn't see the truth, 'cause you weren't really looking for it. You had your mind made up about Grant before you ever gave him a chance. You decided he was no good, and you're looking for those vibes, and they're not there..."

Silence.

"Hattie, I... I don't think I can take that chance again..."

"Please. Do it for me."

"Why? Why are you fighting so hard for this?"

"Because I'm lonely, Coraline."

"What? But you've got me, and Wesley..."

"When you broke me out, I was happy. I had friends. People liked me. And don't get me wrong – I'm glad you did what you did, but... sometimes I just wish I could have friends again."

"But, aren't we friends, Harriet?"

Coraline's voice was soft and fragile. She sounded hurt. I suddenly had the urge to rush in there and console her. Don't even think about it, Grant. Not a good idea.

"Oh, Cora, I didn't mean it like that..." The remorse was evident in her tone. "You are my friend, my very best friend in the whole world. And of course I love Wesley, but you guys are my sister and my mate. It's just so nice to have someone else in the house, and besides that, it's the right thing to do. Grant has nobody - no friends, no family. He deserves at least that. Please, Cora, give him a chance..."

There was another long pause before Coraline spoke up again. "I need to think about all this, Hattie. I just... I need to think about it."

I heard footsteps and the back door opened slightly.

"It's not too late, Cor. We put him up at the inn for the day, since it's gonna be sunny. He'll be there until nightfall in case you change your mind..."

Coraline stepped through the door onto the balcony and prepared to jump down when Harriet peaked her head through the doorway.

"I love you, Cora."

"I know." And with that she jumped to the ground and walked off into the forest, fortunately not in my direction.

"I'm sorry." Harriet whispered, too softly for her sister to hear. I sat crouched in my position and replayed the conversation in my head. Coraline wasn't the only one who had a lot to think about.

9. PROBATION

THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING SUN BROKE INTO MY THOUGHT pattern as I sat in the forest digesting the conversation I had just overheard. I looked up to scan the horizon, and, just as Harriet had predicted, the cloud cover had parted over the small village where the inn was. I would have to move quickly to make it there before the sunlight blocked my path. After all, if Coraline did change her mind, she would look for me there.

I moved as stealthily as possible and reached the inn just as the first few golden rays began to cascade over the tree line to the east. There was no one inside the small foyer of the building, only a small desk with a bell. I rang the bell and waited for a moment while the innkeeper made his way out to meet me. He was a gaunt man, very tall and lanky, with small spectacles resting on his long, slender nose. He appeared to be half asleep as he lumbered into the room and asked how he could be of service. I would have felt bad for waking him so early, but his pleasant demeanor and persistent smile convinced me to shelve my guilt for the time being. After all, I had plenty of other things to feel guilty about. The man took me to my room for the day, a second-story corner bedroom with a view of the forested hills that surrounded Malmedy, the village in the valley. With one last friendly smile he bid me good day, and I was alone.

Loneliness, my unwelcome companion for so many years, swept back over me with surprising ease as I surveyed the small room and sat in the high back chair by the window. With no one else around and nothing to do for the foreseeable future, my mind began to fill itself with the un-pleasantries I had been effectively avoiding for the last twenty-eight hours. At first my thoughts centered on my new vampire acquaintances. The dream life I had envisioned the previous evening seemed more like a teasing ruse, a carrot dangled in front of the horse. I scolded myself for ever entertaining such nonsensical thoughts.

A normal life, I told myself, was a pipe dream, nothing more. I lost my chance at a normal life the night Britta bit me. I thought of the way I had swooned over Coraline, hanging on her every word, every movement, as if it were the last thing I would ever hear or see. Stupid boy. What were you thinking? Of course you thought she was attractive – she was the first vampire you'd seen in years. And of course she wouldn't want you to stay; this is her life, not yours. You're just the intruder, the unwelcome guest. I chuckled coldly as I mused at my behavior over the last day and a half, deciding it was all best thought of as a dream, a small break in the reality of my tainted existence as a man-killing beast.

Gradually my thoughts shifted to remorse for the lives I had taken on my rampage through eastern Europe. The memories came back to me in flashes – shrieking cries, terror-stricken faces, ceaseless cravings, the tragic splatter of red as another life was ended by my bloodlust. Bloodlust. That's all you are, Grant. A killer. A demon. Embrace it.

My little corner room became a jail cell as the thoughts and memories circled in my mind. Of course, not all of them were bad. I was curious about the conversation Harriet and Coraline had earlier that morning. Who was Coraline protecting Harriet from, and why? Who is "Rodney," and what did he do that was so terrible? The questions came like intermissions in between bouts of remorse and self-loathing, and as the hours passed, the cycle began to repeat itself. 10:30. Noon. 2:45. 4:20. If the wall clock hadn't been moving, I would have sworn time had ceased to exist, leaving me trapped in this room with my thoughts forever. As it was, the clock was my only consolation. Dusk would come in just a few hours, and I could move on with my existence and pretend like the last two days never happened. I had eventually reduced myself to studying the small timepiece on the wall, enjoying the relatively mind-numbing effect that accompanied my simple inspection. I watched as the hands moved rhythmically, every stroke with perfect precision. I let the numbing effect grow as I zeroed in on the sound of the passing of time.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick... * Knock, knock, knock *

The sudden sound of knuckles tapping on my door startled me so much that it took me a moment to realize what was happening. The tapping came again, this time louder and more deliberate. Is it time to check out already? I thought I paid enough for two nights' stay... I rose slowly and walked to the door, reaching in my pocket for the rest of the cash I had on hand. He's a friendly man, he deserves a polite response. I put on my best "composed" face and opened the door slowly.

And my composure went right out the window.

Staring back at me through the open door was the image of perfection. A vision...no, a mirage. Surely I must be imagining this... The door swung open on its own as I studied the figure in front of me. My eyes blinked repeatedly, an old human habit, as my mind tried to reconcile itself with my vision.

Coraline.

She was dressed in a light cream dress that came down to mid-shin over brown leather high-heeled boots. Over her dress was a tan well-tailored wool overcoat, which complemented the lighter shade of the scarf which was tied in a perfect knot around her neck.

"Hello, Grant. I'd like to talk to you about something."

The voice of an angel. I savored every sound wave.

"Okay..." I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what to say.

"Can I come in?" She sounded sweet, almost... vulnerable. It was a refreshing change.

"Um...sure. I mean, uh, yes - of course. Please come in." I stepped back, out of the doorway, and let her pass through, making sure to shut the door behind her. She took a few paces and turned around to face me, a somewhat uncomfortable look on her face. She's still standing... guess she's not planning on staying for long. She doesn't look angry, but then she doesn't look happy, either. Hmm... I wonder what this is about?

"Grant, I wanted to talk to you about the other night..."

Her slender fingers were fidgeting with each other inside brown leather gloves as they clutched onto a wide brimmed hat. Her eyes looked down, around...anywhere but at me. She was nervous. About what?

"I feel as...as though I owe you an apology." The words came out slowly, and seemingly with effort. After a momentary pause and a short deliberate breath, her posture stiffened somewhat and her eyes came up to meet mine. She continued.

"I was coarse, unfriendly and rude. You were my guest, and I treated you more like a nuisance. It was unfair of me, and I'm sorry." The apology came out in perfect cadence, as if it had been rehearsed. Of course, the delivery didn't matter to me – I was only concerned with the content.

"That's alright, Coraline. I understand..."

"No, you don't understand. I owe you an explanation. I have a gift for reading people. I'm a very good judge of character; I can sense people's motives and agendas, and consequently, I sometimes have a negative view of people in general. Not that I like it, but that's what happens when you see everyone as they really are. Anyway, the problem is, sometimes..." She sighed. "Sometimes I jump to conclusions about people without giving them a chance to...well, show their true colors.

When I saw you the other night, I thought you were a wild one – some out-of-control newborn or a deranged vagrant. I judged you in my mind before I even spoke to you, before I knew anything about you, and it was wrong."

"It's alright. I know I looked pretty rough. Anyone could have drawn the same conclusion." I smiled, trying to be reassuring.

"Anyone could have drawn that conclusion, but I of all people shouldn't have. You see, the thing is, I'm...very protective of my little sister. She's all I've got, and sometimes she can be so naïve... she needs someone to watch out for her. My family, Harriet, Wesley and I, we're very serious about our privacy. We don't let strangers in. Ever. So, please know that it wasn't anything personal against you. We just keep a tight circle." She paused for a moment, looking away. I said nothing. She continued, much less rehearsed sounding now.

"I've had bad experiences before with letting people too close to our coven, and it's just...really...well, it's really hard for me to trust anyone, most of all myself. It's very hard for me to trust you, but Harriet trusts you, and Welsey trusts you, and I want to try. I want to give you a fair chance..."

"I...don't understand..."

She looked up at me, her big, beautiful eyes staring straight into mine for one perfect moment. A wave of tingles washed over my entire body.

"Come stay with us."

I grasped for words. She wants me to stay? Really?

"Welsey and Harriet have agreed to let you stay in the spare room on their side. There's not much in there right now, but we can fix that for you. That is, if you still want to stay with us..."

"Um..of... of course! I'd love to. I mean, uh, well that's very nice of you. Yes, I'd be delighted to." It was all I could do to keep from running circles around the room. They want me to stay? That's terrific! I'll prove myself to her...to all of them. I'll be whatever I need to be.

"Good." She said rather matter-of-factly. It'll be dark soon, feel free to come on over as soon as the sun's down. Just make sure no one watches you. We don't want anyone to know we're here."

"Of course. I'll be extra careful."

"Okay. Well, uh...goodbye, then." She walked hurriedly to the door, replacing the hat on her head.

"Oh, and Coraline?"

"Yes?" She paused, looking at me for one more brief moment.

"Thank you."

"...you're welcome." She slipped out the door and vanished down the hallway. I felt like pinching myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming. A normal life. That's what this is – a chance at a normal life. Wait – not just a normal life. A life that includes Coraline on a day to day basis. Wow. Could things get any better?

My giddy euphoria was bubbling to the surface like a pot about to boil over. The hour and a half until sundown had to have been the longest span of time in my entire life. As soon as it looked clear enough, I checked out of the inn and headed over to my new home. Home. Yes, I like how that sounds.

My hand was trembling slightly with excitement as I knocked lightly on the balcony door to Harriet & Wesley's apartment. My apartment. In no time at all the door opened wide, and Harriet greeted me with a smile.

"Welcome back, Grant. Come on in."

Coraline and Welsey were waiting for me as I entered – everyone seemed glad to see me. Well, I wouldn't exactly say Coraline was glad, she was more indifferent. But then, indifference was a step up from where she had been yesterday, so even that was nice to see. Harriet was excited.

"Wanna see your new room?"

"Sure."

She led me down a short hall past the bathroom and into a small room on the front corner of the building. The room was sparsely furnished; an olive colored high-back chair sat in the corner to my left, and straight ahead under the boarded-up window was a desk with one corner blackened by fire. It wasn't much, but I could tell they had tried to make it as livable as they could. There were a few small oil paintings on the walls, and a glass vase with a bouquet of yellow flowers rested on the right side of the desk.

"Sorry we don't have much to put in here for you," Harriet spoke up as I surveyed my new living quarters, "we didn't have much time to pull stuff together..."

"No, it's wonderful. Honestly. Thank you all...so very much. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"It's our pleasure, mate." Wesley chimed in.

"We're glad to have you with us. Make yourself at home." Coraline's tone was still unenthusiastic, but it was nice to hear the sentiment regardless. I was home.

"So, would you like the grand tour of the apartment complex, now that you're a regular tenant?" Harriet smiled playfully.

"Sound like fun." I answered. She insisted that we make it a group effort, so the four of us took a detailed journey through every room of the condemned building. I saw the bathroom in between my room and Harriet & Wesley's with the rusty faucets and cracked mirror. Nobody used it much. The same went for the upstairs kitchenette. There was a coat of dust over every counter space and appliance in the small U-shaped room. Downstairs was the large kitchen and dining room where most of the gatherings took place. The bedroom and living room downstairs were seldom used – mostly because they had large windows that faced the dirt path in front of the building. After all, we were secretly living here.

Across the main foyer and staircase was the burned-out unit. Nobody ever came to this side. The walls and floor were black with soot, and the remnants of the furniture in the rooms were burned beyond repair. Back to the main entrance and up the central staircase, we entered Coraline's apartment. It was a strange combination of scents. On the one hand, you had the lingering smell of smoke and ash, much fainter than the unit below, but there nevertheless. On the other hand, you had Coraline's divine fragrance, something I could just sit and enjoy for hours. It was a bittersweet concoction, but I found myself enjoying it the more I smelled it. Coraline's room was drab, as it had been earlier, and her kitchenette was also unused. Her bathroom was much nicer, though. It was the only one with running water, and therefore the only one that the "family" used on a regular basis. Wesley took a long commercial break in the tour to explain to me how he had painstakingly rerouted an underground water pipe from the neighbors a few hundred yards away to secure water for the room. It was quite impressive, actually. He was a very ingenious person. We had just stepped out into the hall and were headed to the last room in the house when Coraline stopped us abruptly.

"Oh, Harriet, let's not go through that room. It's nothing interesting."

"What? Why not? It's just-"

"It's just...very...messy. I haven't had a chance to tidy it up for a while. It's in no shape for company."Coraline was obviously dropping a less-than-subtle hint.

Harriet wasn't getting it.

"But, it was clean just the other-"

"Harriet! Seriously, we don't need to go in there, okay?" Coraline was getting a little frustrated. Harriet seemed surprised.

"Okay, okay. Sheesh! We'll finish the tour another time."
"Thank you."

Welsey broke in to try and lighten the mood. "Anyone up for a game of Rook?"

"Wes, Grant just got here. Why don't we give him some time to settle in first."

"That's alright, Harriet." I responded. "I think a card game sounds like fun."

We convened at the dining room table a few minutes later. Welsey brought three decks of cards and a large stack of money. If there was any way a wager could be placed on a game, Wesley would go for it. Good thing there weren't any casinos nearby.

The first few minutes of game time were spent arguing over teams. Welsey suggested playing "Blokes vs. Sheilas" (Aussie slang for 'guys vs. girls'), but Coraline wouldn't go for it because Wesley always suckered Harriet into bidding too high and losing rounds. And since Coraline and Wesley were by far the two most skilled at card games, putting them on a team together would throw the competitive balance out completely. The only scenario we had left was to have Harriet and Welsey team up against me and Coraline. Of course, that setup worked fine for me.

Wesley dealt the cards, and we played a practice round while the others taught me the rules. It was a simple-enough game, and I caught on quickly. We played through a few rounds, taking turns on who dealt the cards. Wesley and Harriet won most of the 'tricks,' as they were called, but I was getting a better grasp of the strategy. I eventually decided to mix things up, and outbid everyone for the opportunity to pick up the stack of overturned cards at the beginning of the round and to choose the trump suit. After my successful bid (which was probably far too high) I surveyed the cards available to me. Okay, let's see... Coraline said she reads motives, right? So, maybe if I'm properly motivated... "The trump will be red." I concentrated intensely on my inner dialogue. Yes, that's right. RED. I WANT THE TRUMP TO BE RED, BECAUSE I HAVE LOTS OF RED CARDS. THAT'S WHY I SAID THAT. I PLAN ON TAKING LOTS OF TRICKS WITH ALL MY RED CARDS THAT MOTIVATED ME TO PICK RED AS THE TRUMP. I thought through the process slowly and deliberately, staring at Coraline while repeatedly giving her my best 'raise one eyebrow' move. Coraline started giggling.

"What? What did I miss?" Harriet hated to be out of the loop on anything fun.

"Nothing," my partner responded through bursts of stifled laughter. She shook her head and looked at me with those big, beautiful, heart-melting eyes.

"I'm not deaf, you know." She stopped laughing, but the beautiful smile it brought to her face was still there. Harriet scowled at her.

"Are you cheating?" She accused.

"There's no rule against teamwork and nonverbal communication,"she said with a playful, matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, there should be. Stop using your ability to read Grant. It's not fair." Harriet was still scolding.

"I'm not sure I could if I tried." She said as another laugh escaped her suppressive hold. I grinned sheepishly. Apparently, I didn't have to try that hard to give Coraline a hint. Wesley joined in the argument.

"Coraline you have to stop reading your partner like that. Fair enough?"

"I'll try, but I'm not promising anything." She said, defiant, but still playful. It was fun to see her like this.

We won the round easily, and for the rest of the game, we were much more evenly matched with Wes and Harriet. For "not trying," Coraline sure seemed to anticipate a lot of my strategy. I didn't mind a bit. She wanted a chance to see what kind of person I was; this was good practice.

We played for hours, calling for rematch after rematch. I just soaked it all in. Three days ago I was a shell; homeless, wandering aimlessly through war-torn countries, hardly living at all. Now I was sitting around a table with three friendly vampires, playing a game of cards. It was amazing.

The rest of my first week with the "family" went by in a blur. A fun, exciting blur. We spent the nights exploring the surrounding countryside, holding contests to see who could run the fastest, jump the highest, throw a tree the farthest, and all sorts of other "vampire" things. I matched pretty well with Coraline and Wes on the running and jumping, but Wesley was definitely the strongest.

We spent the days (the cloudy ones) traveling to nearby cities, shopping, and of course, playing cards. We played every type of team game conceivable, and surprisingly, we never tired of it. They were a competitive bunch. Well, Coraline and Wesley were. Plus, it was a refreshing change for them - they had been playing three-player games for so long, and now, because of me, they could play teams. And I didn't mind playing so much because it gave me time to hang out with my new friends and get to know them better, which I wanted more than anything.

I talked to Wes and Harriet a lot, about all sorts of things. Harriet was the ultimate small talk partner. If you wanted to talk for hours about fashion trends, art galleries, weather patterns, or shopping destinations, Harriet was your girl. My conversations with Wesley usually shifted to stories about adventures we'd had in the past or adventures he'd like to have in the future. Wesley wasn't much of a homebody. He liked exploring and challenges. My conversations with Coraline were much more infrequent, but at least there were some. If Harriet was the queen of small talk, Coraline was the queen of deep conversation. Most of our talks centered around politics (vampire, not human, of course), relationship dynamics, and the intricacies of vampire nature. I suspected the motivation for so many deep, searching dialogues was to get a better read on me. After all, I was on probation. When she wasn't talking to me (which was most of the time), Coraline was watching, always just outside the action, always at an arm's length. I'm sure she learned a lot about me in a week – my vampire experiences, my political views (which were still forming), my card-playing strategy – but she wasn't the only one who was watching. I learned a lot about her in my first week. First, she was intelligent. She didn't like to talk about her past, but I could tell she had been well educated. Her knowledge of the political sphere and the reasoning behind her arguments for or against things were impressive. Second, she wasn't kidding when she said she was critical of people in general. She had a pessimistic side to her, one she self-diagnosed as "realism," that smelled strongly of pain and disappointment. She had been hurt before. Third, she tended to keep to herself more than the others. When she wasn't talking to me or watching the group, she was holed up in her spare bedroom – the one I was forbidden to enter. I often wondered about that room. Her insistence on keeping me out of it only fueled my curiosity further. What was she doing in there that she wanted to keep so private? I resolved to find out whenever possible. I always loved a good mystery.

By the end of the week, we had all learned a little more about each other, and I had become more comfortable in my new home. It was all very normal, up until it was time to hunt. I had been so caught up in enjoying the company of my new friends that I had forgotten – they were bloodthirsty killers like I had been. The whole idea turned my stomach. They invited me to come along with them on their hunt, but I respectfully declined. For one thing, my self-control was still too weak to retain my composure in a situation like that. The main reason I didn't want to go with them, though, is that I didn't want to think of them that way. I really liked these people, and to see them behaving like Britta - taking a life to satisfy their thirst – well, I'd rather pretend it didn't happen.

We all left the apartment at dusk on Sunday evening; they were traveling south to scan a few mountain villages for food, I went north, back to Brussels. Surely they had a sizable morgue there. I made the trip much faster this time, now that I could run instead of taking the train. The city had a plentiful supply of recently deceased persons to choose from, and thanks to the war conditions, most had yet to be drained of blood. I had no trouble at all drinking my fill for the evening and was back at the apartment in a matter of hours.

The others were still out hunting, so I decided to enjoy a nice relaxing bath while I waited for them to return. I pulled together a new outfit and headed over to Coraline's side of the building, fully intending to walk to the bathroom. When I entered the hallway, though, I had a sudden change of plans. The door to Coraline's spare room stood mysteriously at the end of the hall, beckoning me to come explore its hidden secrets. I debated the course of action in my mind for a moment – she had never explicitly told me not to go in there, although it didn't take a genius to pick up on the fact that she wanted to keep it private. In the end, curiosity won out, and I crept down the hall, slowly opening the door to take a peek inside.

I understood at once why Coraline's room was so empty – most of her belongings were in here. On the wall to my left were two very large book shelves that were fully stocked, with stacks of additional books on top. Okay, she likes to read. I wonder what her taste is... I briefly inspected her reading collection. The shelf on the left contained fiction. She had works from a variety of authors; Austen, Dumas, Kipling, and plenty that I had never seen before. On the right hand shelf was non-fiction, mostly philosophical literature. Locke, Marx, Nietzsche, Jefferson, the Bible, the Qur'an. Again, her interests were...wide. As I followed the wall around the room, I found other interesting surprises. Along the wall with the window was a large telescope, with a number of astronomical charts stacked neatly underneath it. In the far corner was another eye-opening find. An old phonograph machine sat on a modest wooden end table, and sitting next to it was what appeared to be a violin case. A musician, too? Is there anything she doesn't do? I opened the case, and inside was an exquisitely ornate violin. It was in excellent condition, but small signs of wear in strategic positions suggested that it had been played extensively. I lifted the instrument out of its case and held it gingerly, imagining what it would be like to play it. A small inscription on the back side of it caught my eye.

For my darling Coraline, the only thing lovelier than music

Hmmm...a gift? I placed it back in the case and shut it carefully, continuing my casual investigation. The room was generally well-kept except for this musical corner. A variety of papers lay strewn across the floor. Most of them were musical notation, hand written on blank sheets. Alongside the music were scribblings that were lined out like poetry. I considered reading a few, but thought better of it. I was intruding a bit as it was, I didn't want to push the envelope too far. I left the room and shut the door behind me, making sure everything looked just as it had when I first entered. I decided it would be better if Coraline didn't know about my exploration. No sooner had I shut the door than I heard footsteps, swift and light, and then a gentle thud as someone landed on the balcony. They're back? Already? Okay, act normal, Grant. I moved casually into Coraline's room as she walked through the door. She was a little surprised to see me there.

"Oh, hi Grant. You're back early..."

Be calm, Grant. Think calm... "Yes, the...uh, the trip went well. Plenty of corpses in Brussels. Where are Wes and Harriet?" Oh, please tell me they're here too. Welsey's always a good distraction.
"Wes was still thirsty, so he went to look for another drink. Harriet went with him to keep him company. Sometimes I wonder if... okay, what is it? She cut herself off, placing one hand on her hip as her head tilted slightly.

"What is what?" I asked, nervously playing the ignorance card.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're guilty. What did you do? Did you...did you tell anyone about us?" She was suddenly upset.

"No."

"Did someone follow you here? Did anyone see you come in..." She was quickly becoming frantic.

"No, nothing like that. It's nothing, really..."

"Grant, you might as well tell me before I think of something worse. I'm going to find out one way or another."

She had a point. "I, uh...I sort of took a little peek in your room..."

"But, we're standing in my... wait – you didn't..." It was more of a question than a statement. I just nodded with the 'am I in trouble?' face.

"Did you go inside?"

"Yes, but only for a moment..."

She exhaled sharply and closed her eyes as she spoke pleadingly. "Please tell me you didn't look at my papers."

"Well, I mean...I did look at them..."

"Grant!"

"But I didn't read them. You're talking about the music, right? And the, er...writing?"

"You didn't read them?"

"Not one line. Honest."

Her eyes were open again, looking somewhere between curiosity and a glare. "Why did you go in my room?"

"I dunno, I guess I was just curious. I mean, I still don't understand why you didn't want me looking in there..."
"Because I didn't want to have this conversation," she snapped.

"This conversation?..."

"You know. You say 'gee, Coraline, I didn't know you played the violin' and I say 'I don't anymore.' Then you say 'why not?' and I say 'it's a long story,' which actually means 'I don't want to talk about it, so drop it.' Clear enough?"

"Yes. Very clear. Sorry I brought it u-... well, actually you brought it up, but..." Her expression shifted fully to 'glare.' Guess she didn't appreciate the humor.

"Look, there are things I keep in there that are very private, okay? I don't share them with anyone, not even Harriet. And by the way, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring this up with her or Wesley. I don't need someone else on my case about my privacy." It sounded like she'd been over this subject a few times before.

"I'm sorry," I confessed with as much sincerity as I could muster, "I know you wanted me to stay out, it's just... well, I know you're watching me, but... I want to get to know you, too."

Her glare broke into an expression I didn't understand. Surprise? Confusion? Either way, she said nothing, so I continued.

"I guess... I guess I got a little carried away. I should have asked first..."

"Yes, you should have," She said coldly as she turned and stormed off to the forbidden room.

"I am sorry..." I said meekly as she slammed the door.

"Apology accepted." She huffed from inside the room. I walked over to the other side of the building to pass the time until Wesley and Harriet got back. Note to self: don't ever, ever go in her room without asking.

10. BALCONY

LIVING WITH VAMPIRES WAS MUCH EASIER THAN BEING ON MY own, and I found myself feeling more and more comfortable with my new immortal companions. I felt as if they were becoming more comfortable with me as well. Coraline eventually forgave me for trespassing in her spare room, and things were relatively quiet for a few weeks. We kept much to the same pattern as before, though Coraline seemed to spend less time on her own. This, of course, thrilled me to no end. I felt like an addict – any time I spent with her just made me want to know more. She was like a great mystery, a puzzle with an infinite number of pieces, beckoning me to explore and solve. Not that she needed solving, per se, but there were so many questions about her – enough to last an eternity.

We were enjoying a rare moment of one-on-one conversation one December morning when Harriet came bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen. She and Welsey had been out shopping in Vienna the previous day, and had taken time to feed again on the way back. She had an excited grin on her face as she swept into the room, clutching a newspaper in her hand.

"Coraline, Grant, I have a wonderful idea," she bubbled. "Okay, you know how we've been hanging around the house for the last few weeks, doing pretty much the same thing every day? And you know how you were just saying the other day that we should find something different to do, just for a change of pace?"

"I said that?" Coraline seemed doubtful.

"Well, maybe Wes said it. Anyway, okay, so here's the idea." She handed the newspaper to Coraline. "Whadda you think?"

The page was turned to the 'Arts and Entertainment' section, and the headline of the primary article read:

CHRISTMAS CONCERT

FEATURING THE WORKS OF

JOHANNES BRAHMS

Coraline scanned the headline and handed the paper back to Harriet abruptly.

"A concert? Harriet..."

"Oh, c'mon, Cor, give it a try."

"Where is it?"

"The opera house."
"Forget it."

"Coraline..."
"Not interested."

"But you love concerts. Well, at least you used to. And we haven't been in so long. Surely you miss it, right?"

Coraline was peeved.

"Harriet, of all the ideas you could come up with, did you have to suggest a concert at the Vienna opera house? Are you trying to make a point?"
"No. The only point I'm trying to make is that we should do something fun – the four of us. I just thought...."

"It would be nice, Coraline. To get out and do something different..." I joined the conversation.

"Oh, great. You too? Do you two really want to go? Are you sure there isn't something else you'd like to do?"

"Actually, it's we three," Harriet said with a giddy smile, as if she knew she'd already won the debate, "Wesley thinks it's a splendid idea." Coraline sighed as she gave the idea some thought. "They're playing the Brahms violin concerto... C'mon, you don't want to pass that up, do you?" Harriet was nothing if not persistent.

"Well, if the rest of you want to go... how bad could it be?"

Harriet hopped up and down with excitement. "So you'll go?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Great! Okay, we have to go to Brussels first thing tomorrow to find something to wear. Unless you'd rather get something from Vienna. Or, wait – no, we should go to Paris... I haven't been there in way too long. It would be fun, we could make a fun little 'girls-night-out' trip of it. Whadda ya say?"

"Sounds like fun." Coraline said with a reluctant smile.

"Don't worry," Harriet said, turning to me, "We'll pick up a nice tuxedo for you while we're out. Wesley already has one that he never wears..."

The two of them spent the better part of the day planning their trip, and set out for Paris early the next morning, leaving me and Wesley at home for the day. Not that I minded that. Wesley was a very easy person to be around. I never felt like I needed to put in the effort to fill a conversation with him – he always had something to talk about. And he was very accepting; he adhered to the 'live and let live' mantra religiously. I looked forward to hanging out with him for a while.

We saw the girls off in the morning, watching them as they bounded off into the woods in search of the 'perfect' outfit for our concert outing.

"Well, I s'pose it's just you and me, mate." he said to me as he placed an arm around my shoulder. "We've got two days. Whadda ya say we head down to the Swiss Alps for a bit? I figure if we get started now, we could make it out there by mid-afternoon. You up for that?"

"Sure. Sounds great."

"Splendid. You might want to change clothes first, though. You don't wanna get those fancy trousers dirty."

I dressed in a more casual outfit and we went on our way, weaving a path through forests and farms to keep from population centers, allowing us to run at full speed. Wesley was right, the snowy white peaks came into view around 2:30, and by 3:00 we were beginning to climb up the tallest peak in sight. Mountain climbing was quite the adventure – even for a vampire's strength and agility, several portions of the frozen peak were fairly challenging to tackle. We took our time - mostly because I was a novice at this sort of thing – and reached the summit before sundown. It was a beautiful view from the mountaintop, and we spent quite a while up there looking around and chatting. After sundown we decided to climb back down the peak and head to Zurich, which was less than an hour's journey. Neither of us had ever been there before, and we were both anxious to explore something else. I decided to strike up a conversation as we made our leisurely way down the mountain side.

"So, Wesley, I'd be very interested to hear your story."

"...um, okay. Which one?"

"Everything. What your life was like before the change, who changed you and how, what you did from then until now... oh, and how you and Harriet met."

"Crikey, mate! That's a really long story..."

"I'm sure you can summarize it. Besides, we've got plenty of time."

"Alright," he conceded, "where should I begin?"

"How about birth?"

He chuckled, but eventually conceded. "Alright, starting from birth... I was born outside of Newcastle, New South Wales on August 4, 1819. My parents had just moved out to Australia from Wales the year before. I was the youngest of six boys, and the only one to be born in Australia. My father was a banker for all of his adult life, and then, at thirty-eight, he decided to pack up the family, move to rural Australia and manage a series of coal mines he had purchased as investments. I s'pose I get my wandering spirit from him. My mother was Irish; her family rejected her when she left Catholicism to join the Anglican church with my father, so it wasn't quite so hard for her to travel to the other side of the world with him. She was a pretty woman; very quiet, very frail. She always seemed in poor health, which didn't fit so well in the rough environment where we lived. She always said the fresh air did her well, though. Who knows, maybe it did?

So that's my parents, but what about me? Let me think about that... well, like I said, I was the youngest in my family - by seven years. My oldest two brothers had grown up and moved away by the time I could really remember anything. There weren't a lot of other children around to play with, just me and my brothers. And since I was so much younger, I was always the one getting picked on. Kinda funny, actually. None of my brothers ever topped six feet tall. Guess I just got all the "tall" genes.

I was always the kid who got in trouble, 'cause I was always looking for stuff to do. It was just so dreadfully boring living out there. By the time I turned eighteen I knew I had to get out and see the rest of the world. Three of my older brothers still lived with my parents and worked in the family business, but there was no way I could ever do that.

I had to get out, so I joined the Australian branch of the Royal Navy. I was never much good at anything pertaining to a coal mine, but I was a damn good sailor. It was like I was born to be at sea. I loved every minute of it, especially being around a group of lads my own age for once. Actually, thinking back, I was good at just about everything they gave me to do. My commanders noticed, too. Two years after I joined, I was commissioned to serve on the HMS Pinnacle and we were sent to patrol the coast of China. They called it the "Opium War" - China and the UK fighting over the right to ship opium from India to China.

Anyway, I was a scrub, a nobody on the ship, but at least I was there. She was a glorious one, a beauty. Finest warship in the South Pacific. We set up a perimeter off the southern coast of China and just waited. After five weeks of waiting, the men were all hungry for some action. Poor bastards – if they only knew. We were boarded by a vampire one night, sometime during the first watch. He was a short little Chinese man, not too intimidating until he started ripping people in two. He killed all the commanding officers within the first ten minutes of boarding, and ordered the men to take the ship out to sea. He kept a skeleton crew on deck to run the ship, and the rest of us he kept locked in the ship's hold. Every twelve hours or so he would come down and fetch one of us away for a snack. I didn't know what kind of monster he was, but I knew I wasn't about to sit and wait to either starve to death in the hold or be eaten alive. I rallied the rest of my mates together and we bum rushed him the next time he came to get one of us. We tried everything on him – swords, pistols, even cannonballs. Obviously nothing worked. I don't exactly know how, but at some point in the fight with him he must have bitten me, because I remember the feeling of that venom running in my veins. I'll never forget that. He killed the rest of the crew, all twenty-two that were still alive to fight him. I should have died, too, but the venom kept me alive. He probably would have finished me off, but, as luck would have it, we had drifted within hearing range of another ship, and when they heard the cannon fire they came to investigate. I never found out what happened to the vampire – I guess he ran away when he was spotted.

The crew from the other ship, the HMS Courage, they found me and took me to their infirmary. They thought I had contracted some sort of disease, and since I wasn't with it enough to tell them otherwise, they locked me in a room all by myself. I laid there for two and a half days while the change was happening in me, and then the doctor came in to check on me. He was my first kill. I'll never forget that feeling. I felt so powerful, and yet so ashamed at the same time. I mean, I had just killed one of my own shipmates and drunk his blood. I was terrified, and I didn't want to be a danger to the rest of the crew, so I jumped overboard and swam all the way to the shore.

I sort of wandered around southern China aimlessly for a while, not really knowing what the hell I was or what I was doing. Eventually I ran into a few Vietnamese blokes who sort of taught me the ropes. 'Course, after a few months they tried to kill me, but that's another story. Bottom line is, they got me pointed in the right direction. So, I pretty much spent the next ninety years wandering around Asia and eastern Europe, looking for adventure. I hunted werewolves, I got in fights with other covens, I explored the Himalayas... I did a lot of great stuff. After a while, though, I got tired of fighting so much, so I sort of settled down in a mountain range on the south side of Romania. That was more or less my home for eight years until the war broke out in Western Europe. The whole idea of mass chaos and endless amounts of displaced people sounded pretty enticing, so I came out to join the big vampire party out here. That's when I met Harriet.

I was in Warsaw last October hunting – back then it was okay to hunt in the city. There were lots of vampires around, so it normally wasn't a big deal to run into someone, especially at night. I was just minding my own business, wandering aimlessly around the inner city when I saw her – she was so adorable, the best-dressed vampire I had seen anywhere in Europe. I remember she came up to me to ask if I was lost and needed directions. We struck up a conversation right there in the middle of the street, and I knew there was something special about her. We spent the rest of the night together while she gave me a tour of the city, and by the time we were finished, the sun was just beginning to come out. We had to take cover quickly, so we ducked under a bridge in a park somewhere. We were pinned under there all day; it was the brightest, most cloud-free day I think I've ever seen. There was never a moment of awkwardness the whole night and day. We could just talk for hours about all sorts of things. It was so... easy.

By sunset I knew I was hooked. I was crazy about this girl, and I had never wanted anything as badly as I wanted more time with her. When night came again we left our hideout and went to find her sister, which nearly took us all night. Boy, was she mad! Trust me, mate, you've never seen Coraline on a warpath like she was that night. She went on this tirade about how she'd been worried sick, searching all over town for her sister or a pile of ashes. Harriet tried to smooth things over, but it was a challenge. After having her arm twisted for a while, Coraline eventually gave me permission to come visit them on occasion at their temporary home up in the mountains about two hours away. Well, that didn't last long. I just about went mad trying to wait for two days before I had to come see her. Coraline didn't like it, but Harriet explained that we were in love, that we were meant for each other, and there wasn't much she could do about it. So, she gave up fighting it, and I became a part of their little coven. I still got the cold treatment from Coraline for a month or so, but she came around. Yeah, I wouldn't worry about her too much if I were you, mate. She puts off a tough persona, but inside she's as sweet as they come. You just have to give her some time. She's a real gem if you can get past the baggage and get to know her."

We fell quiet for a little while as we reached the bottom of the mountain and traversed the foothills toward Zurich. I thought about what Wesley had said about getting a similar treatment from Coraline when he joined the coven, and it gave me hope. Maybe she would change, maybe I could be accepted. Maybe she wasn't wholeheartedly opposed to romance... well, I didn't want to push my luck too far, but if I could at least be truly accepted, that would be beyond words. One thing about hanging around Wesley - quiet moments never lasted very long.

"So I was thinking," he spoke up abruptly, "you know what they have a lot of in Zurich?"

"Umm... no clue. What?"

"Banks." He smiled deviously. "Lots and lots of well-stocked banks. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably not..."

"We should pick up a little more cash to add to the operating fund. Harriet's probably in Paris spending everything we have as we speak."

"Well, that may be true, but... stealing? Isn't there another way to get by?"

"Money don't grow on trees, mate. Besides, you held down a job lately?"

He did have a point.

We reached Zurich without much trouble, though our exploratory adventure had shifted to an exploration of potential bank targets. Once a suitable one had been spotted, Welsey formed his game plan. First we broke into a hiking supply store to secure a few duffel bags. Then it was off to the main target. It was the middle of the night, and knocking off a bank would be easy for a vampire. We just had to try and be quiet about it. After five minutes of coercion, I reluctantly agreed to be the "lookout" while Wesley secured our funds. He was in and out in a brief moment, all three duffel bags filled to overflowing with German Reichsmarks.

"Well don't just stand there, mate. Let's get a move on it!" he whispered loudly to me as he tossed one of the bags my way. We started traveling back home, making as much of the journey under the cover of night as possible. It would have been less than ideal to be seen walking the countryside carrying bags full of money just hours after a major bank robbery. I thought a bit more about things during the fleeting patches of silence on our way home. Other than the bank robbery part, Wesley reminded me very much of my brother. Young, brash, charismatic, fun to be around. I was really fortunate to be so readily accepted by him.

We reached our home just a few hours before the girls were supposed to return, and we spent the time counting the money and talking about all the sorts of things we'd do with it. It was a large sum – I doubted we'd need to steal any more for a long time.

The ladies returned from their shopping trip in late afternoon, their arms loaded down with bags. Wesley eyed the purchases with a playfully inquisitive suspicion.

"I thought you were just going to get dresses for this weekend..."

"Well you can't expect me to waste a trip to Paris on just two dresses, now can you?" Harriet smiled. "Wanna see what I bought?"

"Do I have a choice?" He replied with a jesting smile.

"Nope." She took the next half hour modeling all the clothes she picked up on her excursion. At the rate she was going, I wondered if we would need to convert the entire downstairs into a closet for her.

We all spent the evening playing cards and planning our trip. It was decided that if we were going to travel to Vienna, we may as well stay over for a few days and enjoy the change of scenery. By sunrise, the agenda was set, the bags were packed, and we set off for the train station.

The closest train heading to Vienna was leaving Cologne at 8am, so we wasted no time making our way through the forested hills back to the place where my new chapter of life had begun. We arrived at the train station with fifteen minutes to spare, which we spent talking about all the fun we were going to have in Austria. Well, three of us were talking. Coraline kept quiet for the most part, and her inactivity in the conversation teased my curious mind constantly. I knew there was something bothering her, but what could it be? If something were bothering Wesley, everybody would know about it. Harriet was a little less vocal about it, but you could still fish it out of her without too much difficulty. But Coraline... everything about her was like a coded message, and I was still searching for the key to the cipher. Maybe someday I would understand...

Just before the first boarding call was sounded, Harriet reached into her little red leather purse and pulled out four paper tickets. "Since this is a special occasion," she began, as she handed one to each of us, "I decided we should travel in class." We all inspected the tickets carefully to see what special class she was referring to. Coraline spoke for the three of us.

"Wow, first class. Thanks, Harriet. This'll be nice." She did her best to sound sincere, though for a vampire, "first class" didn't quite have the same appeal as it would to our human counterparts. After all, it's not as if we'd be sleeping or eating on the trip.

"Think, everyone. What could be better than first class?" She asked rhetorically. After a pause, she reached back into her purse, raising one eyebrow as she produced an entire handful of tickets. "How about... exclusive first class tickets?"

Wesley was taken back. "What... what did you..."

"I bought out the entire first class section. For the entire trip. No shifting from car to car to find one to ourselves, no enduring the smell of blood for hours on end, no worries." She smiled triumphantly. Wesley ran his hand through his hair as if he were taking in some dreadfully heavy news.

"Love, how much did you spend on all of those?"

"It's not important, Wesley. We're together, and it'll be a memorable event. That's all that matters."

"Yeah, memorable 'cause it'll be the last one we'll ever be able to afford!"

"Oh, shush! Don't rain on my parade. If it's so bad, you can knock off another bank when we get back."

Wesley sighed heavily and shook his head. "Woman, what am I gonna do with you?"

"Love me forever and tell me I'm wonderful?" She said as she batted her eyes dramatically. Coraline put the group back on track.

"Alright, you two. Let's get on the train before they start bumping people up to our exclusive class seats."

We settled into one of the upscale rail cars and began the relatively long journey to Vienna. We could have easily made the trip in eight or nine hours on foot, but the train ride was, according to Harriet, a more "memorable" experience.

Twenty-six hours of "memorable," to be exact.

Wesley and Harriet spent the greater portion of the trip jabbering about every topic imaginable. Coraline began reading one of the handful of books she had brought along with her. For the most part, I sort of floated between watching the scenery and playing the third wheel in Wes & Harriet's conversations. I tried talking to Coraline a few times, but got mostly one-line responses to my questions or comments. She wasn't in the mood to talk. Oh, well, I thought to myself. Maybe once we get past the concert she'll be able to enjoy the rest of the trip.

The remainder of the train ride went smoothly, and we arrived at the downtown station in Vienna right on time, about 10:00 in the morning. The concert didn't begin until 7pm, so we had all day to fill with sightseeing. Since I was the only one who had never been to Vienna before, the other three took it upon themselves to guide me through the highlights of the bustling city. They had an extensive knowledge of the layout and history of the area – I got the feeling they had been here quite a few times before.

The intermittent cloud cover eventually gave way to a sunny afternoon, so we decided to check into our hotel room early and pass the rest of the day indoors. Harriet's desire to go "all out" on the trip extended to the lodging arrangement. We had the largest suite at the finest hotel in town, complete with all sorts of amenities we had no use for, like a fully stocked wine selection, a luxurious king-size bed and complementary massages at the spa.

After a few rounds of cards (Wesley brought enough gaming material to stock a small casino) it was time for the ladies to get ready for the big evening. It's amazing; one would think that vampire women wouldn't take nearly as long as human women to prepare for a night out. At least, that was my theory up until that evening. The two of them were holed up in the expansive master bathroom for nearly two hours doing hair, makeup and God knows what else. Wesley and I were into our tuxedos in sixty seconds. I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in the formal suit and tie as we stood and waited for the ladies to make their grand entrance. Wesley and 'formal' didn't belong in the same sentence in any form of the word. I didn't mind it so much. It was nice to have an occasion to dress up for.

Just when we were about to come in there after them, we heard Harriet speak up from across the suite.

"Alright, boys, are you ready to be dazzled?"

Oh, boy. I'm about to be dazzled. Composure. Think calm, logical composure, Grant.

"Come on in." Wesley answered.

And they did.

And I was dazzled to the infinite degree.

In through the large open archway stepped an angel, the picture of loveliness, exquisite in every way. Her emerald green evening gown flowed seamlessly around her body as if it were a shimmering extension of her silky smooth skin. The expertly tailored gown hugged her upper body like a lover's embrace, the fabric conveying her every curve and graceful line with near perfection. The grip slowly loosened as the garment followed her gentle curvature through her waist and past her hips, gradually sweeping into a subtle flowing train that just kissed the floor beneath her. Matching gloves ran up her slender arms to just beyond her elbows. The modest-yet-appealing heart-shaped neckline formed a frame for a large diamond necklace that glittered wildly, even in the moderately lit hotel room. Her fiery red hair swept down in large, carefully orchestrated curves, forming soft layers around her elegant neck. And of course, her face outshone it all. I will not even attempt to describe it; any such measure would fail to capture the splendor I was treated to that night.

Even in a vampire mind, there are a handful of memories that stand out in their intensity, perfectly documented, like a photograph. The first time I saw Coraline I experienced one of those moments. This was the second. I was powerless to do anything but watch and marvel at her. I'm sure Harriet was dressed attractively as well, but I didn't notice – I didn't see her at all. There was nothing else in existence at that moment. Heaven and earth paused in a gasp. Galaxies stopped spinning. Time and space and meaning melded together into a nonsensical blur around the radiant beauty that was Coraline Gray. I was utterly smitten in every way.

Once Wesley and I had regained our senses, the four of us set out on foot to make the short trip to the opera house. It was a terrible shame that we happened to be visiting during the winter; Coraline's white fur coat, though lovely in and of itself, was robbing me of the breathtaking view of her evening attire as we traveled along the busy sidewalks. It's not like we needed the extra layers for warmth, but to go without it in the frigid weather would draw unwanted attention. It was fifteen minutes before showtime when we arrived at the concert venue, veering off the main path to wind around to the back of the building. I wondered for a moment if Harriet had somehow been confused.

"Aren't we...shouldn't we...um, be going in through the front entrance over there?"

"That's not our entrance." Harriet said over her shoulder as we walked into the alley behind the building. We paused once we had gone about halfway down the back wall, and Wesley looked around to make sure we were alone.

"Coast's all clear, love. Ladies first..." Without a word, Harriet sprang upward, ascending the entire height of the building and landing gingerly on her high-heeled feet. Coraline followed right behind her.

We're entering from the roof? I was somewhat confused, but said nothing and followed the girls up to the top of the hall. I misjudged the jump slightly, and ended up sailing six or seven feet too high. Luckily I still came down on my feet. Welsey joined us shortly, and we strolled forward on the flat portion of the roof. I soon saw the reason for our unorthodox approach to the building. Nestled behind another elevation in the roof height were four ornate, high-back seats, looking more like thrones than chairs.

"Tada!" Harriet said in a song-like tone, eager to see my reaction. "Whadda ya think?"

"Best seats in the house, mate." Wesley added.

"So... I take it we're watch- er, I mean, um, listening to the concert from here?"

"Yep. We still get to hear all the good stuff, and we don't have to sit and smell all those warm bodies next to us. It's the best of both worlds."

"Okay. I'm willing to give it a try."

"It's great! Just wait – you'll see. Or, actually, I guess you won't see, but you know what I mean." Harriet was a chatterbox as usual. Coraline said nothing. There was something distinctively somber about her mood, which seemed a tragedy given the luxuriously beautiful expressions her face was capable of.

After casually inspecting them for dust or dirt, we sat down on our "thrones" (Wesley and Harriet sat in the middle, Coraline and I settled on either side of them) and waited for the music to begin. The concert started at 7:00 sharp with a lively orchestral number that easily carried up to our rooftop seats. My vampire sense of hearing was remarkable. Even at this distance (and with a solid roof in between) I could still hear every harmonic resonance that made up the large musical ensemble playing below me. The horns blared, loud and rich. The woodwinds sang with their smooth voice-like tones. The strings soared with a sweeping melody. The timpanis thundered like cannon fire. It was a very enjoyable experience. Of course, about fifteen seconds into the first song, the sounds of the orchestra were joined by Harriet's running commentary. She was like that person you invariably sit behind in the theater that feels the need to talk during the entire performance. I tried my best to tune her out and enjoy the rich melodies which were emanating from the concert hall below me. I was able to focus in on the music for the most part, but occasionally something Harriet whispered broke through into my consciousness. One such discourse involved Coraline, which obviously garnered my attention to a much greater degree.

"Honestly, Coraline – do you have to pout the whole time? Can't you at least try to have a good time?"
"I'm not pouting. I just don't have anything to say."

"You are too pouting, and you know it. Just because he..." She lowered her voice, as if it would really make any difference to my keen sense of hearing. "Just because you spent time here... it doesn't mean you can't make new memories..."

"Don't lecture me, Harriet. You have no idea what it's like for me. Just leave me alone, okay? I came, didn't I?"

I wanted desperately to sneak a glance over at the girls to see what their faces were saying, so I nudged my seat forward bit by bit until I could catch them out of the corner of my eye. Coraline seemed distant, as if her mind were in a totally different place. Her face changed very little for the entire first half of the performance, and I half wondered if she would leave at the intermission. Fortunately, she decided to stay for the second half, which included a violin concerto she was apparently very fond of.

I subtly nudged my chair a little further forward as I sat back down for part two of the concert. Finally, something did change in Coraline's countenance. I could see the mood on her face brighten ever so subtly as she heard the familiar passages played by the violinist below our balcony seat. During a few portions I caught her fingers moving minutely, as if she were subconsciously playing along. Obviously she had played the piece before, maybe even from memory (which wasn't such a hard task for a vampire). By the end of the Concerto, she seemed at least neutral in her mood, which was pleasant. She was too pretty to frown so much.

If the Concerto had been Coraline's favorite part of the concert, the section that followed was mine. The orchestra played a series of Brahms waltzes, several of which I remember dancing to with my mother in our house when I was a boy. I always did love to dance, though I was never the accomplished ballroom dancer my mother was. As I sat through two, then three, then four perfect waltzing songs, the urge to do something absolutely absurd kept hammering into my head. I wanted to get up and dance. With Coraline. As if she would ever want that in this or any other dimension in space. As foolish as it sounded, the idea kept hounding me, taking up more and more of my mind until I could scarcely hear the music anymore. I weighed the pros and cons in my mind over and over again, as a hot flush of tingles kept sweeping erratically through my head.

By the beginning of the fifth waltz, I couldn't stand it anymore. My body began to act without my brain's permission, and I stood up, took off my overcoat, and slowly walked over to Coraline's seat. I'm sure all three looked at me with the same confused surprise that Coraline expressed as I stood there silently, gathering the courage to speak. What are you doing, Grant? What are you doing? What if she says no? What if this pushes her over the edge, and she tells you to stay away forever? Of course, what if she says yes? After two seconds that felt more like two hours, I finally spoke my thoughts.

"Would you care to dance?" I spoke in a surprisingly confident-sounding voice as I extended one open hand in her direction. Wow. That came out better than expected...

She hesitated a moment, obviously taken by surprise at my request.

"Umm...well..." She glanced around, as if looking for an escape route.

Oh, great. Nice going, stupid! Way to make things-

"Okay. I mean...um...sure. But I'm not really much of a dancer..."

Sure? Wait, did I hear that right? She said yes? My mind was reeling as she placed her emerald-covered hand in mine. Even through the satin glove, there was an energy like a surge of electricity that rushed across my hand, up my arm, and all over me when we touched. Electricity and pure giddiness. I hadn't touched her since that first night when we met – I had forgotten what a wonderful feeling it was. She stood gracefully to her feet and we walked out a ways from the seats to a large open area of the roof suitable for dancing. She paused before we began, looking at the roof below us with suspicion.

"I have to warn you, I really don't know what I'm doing. I never really learned to dance..."

"It's easy." I reassured her as she looked up, her eyes catching mine for one magical moment. "Just follow me. I'll show you how."

We danced to the music below us, a bit awkwardly at first, but smooth and flowing in no time. She was a quick learner. Warm, sweet happiness filled my every atom as we swirled elegantly over the opera house roof. I may as well have been dancing on the clouds. Emboldened by my successful venture into dancing, I decided to take further advantage of the situation and strike up a conversation with my heavenly dance partner.

"You know, you're actually quite good at this. I'm surprised you don't dance more often."

"Thanks. I guess it's not that hard after all. Of course, I did have a good teacher..."

Wow. A compliment? Was that just a compliment? "If only I could learn music as easily as you learn dance."

"Not much of a musician, huh?" She seemed candid for once. I enjoyed it.

"Music and I have always had a one-sided relationship. I enjoy her company; she doesn't enjoy mine." She chuckled politely, tilting her head slightly.

"Come, now, you can't be that bad..."

"You'd be surprised. Even vampires can be dreadfully awful at something."

"I think the only thing you're dreadfully awful at is giving yourself enough credit." I had forgotten about her insightful nature. Okay, so maybe I was playing up my ineptness just a little...

We talked and danced for the remainder of the concert, leaving our vampire companions to enjoy the concert on their own. The evening couldn't have gone any better - I was in a state of perfect euphoria. I know vampires aren't supposed to dream, but at that moment I was so sure I was dreaming I had to wonder if it could be real. The most indescribably beautiful creature in all existence, dancing in my arms for nearly half an hour. It made my day. It made my entire year. I was actually mildly depressed when the last song ended and Harriet and Wesley came over to join us. Ah, how fleeting life can be, even for an immortal!

"You two ready to get back to the hotel?" Wesley asked with a smile.

"Of course. Let's go – we don't want to raise suspicion by coming back too late." Just like that, Coraline seemed back to business. I noticed her subtly distancing herself from me as the four of us made our way to the back of the building. Maybe I was dreaming...

Welsey jumped down first, offering to catch Harriet when she jumped after him. Then something unexpected happened. Coraline stepped back from the edge for just a moment before descending, and turned to me, looking directly in my eyes. I melted.

"Thanks for dancing with me. I... it was nice." And with that she leaped down to join the others. It was a good thing Wesley was down there to catch me in case my legs failed – I felt mildly weak in the knees. She enjoyed it! She actually liked doing something with me. Oh, Happy Day! O bliss of sweet existence! Joy surged through me like wildfire. This sort of progress was something I had longed for, but never expected. It gave me hope.

11. GRAVITY

OF ALL THE PLANNING THAT WENT INTO MY COVEN"S OUTING TO Vienna, there was one thing none of us had anticipated. Snow. Lots and lots of snow. So much, in fact, that our return trip had been delayed an extra day while workers cleared off the train tracks through some of the more mountainous portions of our route home. The four of us watched through the oversized window in our luxury suite as it came down in relentless flurries, swirling around in a blur of white. It was quite beautiful, really, if you stopped to appreciate it. Of course, on this particular blizzard-esque morning, I was the only one who noticed.

Harriet was upset (mostly embarrassed) that she hadn't seen it coming. She prided herself on being the near-perfect weather forecaster for the family, and to miss a major winter storm like this was apparently a big deal. Wesley was preoccupied with trying to comfort his vampire mate and rebuild her self-confidence, which at the moment was drowning in a sea of self-doubt. Coraline had been on the phone all morning trying to alter our travel arrangements home. Harriet felt bad enough as it was – the last thing we needed was to lose our "exclusive" first class tickets home on her account. So that just left me to stand there and notice the artistry of the snowflakes as they danced outside our window.

Once I had quieted myself for a while to watch the snow, I noticed a craving that had been lurking below the surface for the entire trip. I was thirsty. It had been nearly three weeks since I had last fed, and the desire flared up inside me once it came to my attention. I decided since everyone else was preoccupied with something else, now was as good a time as any to slip out and find a suitable blood donor. It was still relatively early on a Saturday morning; the morgues shouldn't be open yet, and there shouldn't be anyone wandering around on the street to see me sneak in. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible as I put on my winter coat and headed for the door.

"Hey guys, I'm going to slip out and get something to drink. I'll be back in an hour or two." Harriet hardly noticed I had spoken. Wesley acknowledged me for the two of them.

"Alright. See you later."

"Wait – where did you say you were going?" Coraline pulled away from the telephone receiver, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.
"To the morgue. To get something to drink."

She glanced off for a moment in thought. "Do you mind if I come along?" Do I mind? I'd be thrilled for you to come along!

"Um...no, that's no problem. Actually, some company would be nice."

I had never really been anywhere in public with just Coraline; it was nice. For once, I didn't want to blend in – I wanted to be noticed. I wanted everyone passing by to see that this fine young lady was with me. Well, I mean, she wasn't with me, with me, but they didn't know that.

With Coraline's help, I found the morgue quickly and gained entrance with relative ease. No one was too concerned about security in a building full of dead bodies. Once inside, I swiftly scanned the endless rows of corpses, looking for the freshest one, explaining my process to Coraline as I went along. Morgues were always tricky – the main problem with them was that it was becoming common practice to drain the blood out of corpses as soon as they were admitted. Obviously, that put a major damper on my ability to feed. It wasn't usually a problem in places like Antwerp and Cologne, where the war casualties caused back-ups in all the procedures. Vienna was different, though. It was located just far enough from the allied airfields that it had enjoyed relative immunity to bombing raids. I was beginning to think this would be a wasted trip, scanning through row after row of drained bodies. Eventually I found one, which must have either been very new or overlooked. It was small – a preteen, but I decided to settle for it. I wasn't used to breaking in during the day, and I didn't want to be in here any longer than was necessary. After making a barely-noticeable incision in the upper arm, I drained the blood out of the body, always keeping an eye out and listening for the first sign of any workers. Coraline said very little during the whole process; mostly she just watched, which I must admit, made me quite nervous. I wondered what sorts of things she was reading from my feeding habits.

Once I had drunk my fill, we slipped back out, making sure that everything was just how we had found it (except, of course, for the broken latch on one of the small windows that we used to gain access. Hopefully no one would notice that for a while).

In the fifteen minutes or so since we were last outside, the swirling snow flurries had settled down into a gentle dusting, floating to the ground. There were more people on the streets on our way back, so we elected for a longer route that kept us distant from the public eye. Once we had gone a safe hearing distance from everyone, Coraline started up a conversation.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"What could you possibly have done that you feel so guilty about?"

"Sorry, I'm not following you..."
"When you fed on that corpse... there was so much guilt around you. And shame. What did you do?"

I thought about it for a moment before I answered. What had I done? I had ended the lives of countless people who meant me no harm. People who had family and friends who were crushed by the grief of their loss. People who deserved a chance to finish their lives naturally. I lived for months as a wretched beast. That's what I had done.

"I... how do I explain it?... I was never a violent person, never one to want to cause anyone else discomfort or pain. I mean, I had my flaws as much as the next chap, but overall, I think I was a good person. And then I got converted into... into this, and I suddenly had the urge to to horrible things. I've killed so many people- innocent people, just to satisfy a craving. Just because I didn't try hard enough to control myself."

"But you're a vampire. We're made to live on other people. No one expects you to be any different."

"I expect myself to be different. I know I can be different."

"It's just the natural order of things. It's the way it's supposed to be."

"Just because it's the way it's 'supposed to be' doesn't make it right. I killed those people, Coraline. For the most selfish of reasons. I can't just write that off as the natural order of things." She said nothing, so I continued. "I know I can never make amends for the things I've done. I can never give those people back their lives. I know I have to carry that with me for the rest of my... well, I suppose forever. That's my punishment. I guess... I guess I feed this way because even though I've done so many hideous things before, it doesn't give me warrant to just give up and keep killing because it's easier. At least today there was one more innocent person that got to continue their life."

She went quiet for a while, and we walked in silence through the powdery white snow. I wasn't expecting to give such a passionate answer; I hoped I hadn't made myself look like a dolt. After all, I was probably the only vampire in existence that seemed to have a problem killing humans. I was nearly convinced she thought me to be mad. She stopped walking outside a small park, standing underneath a large frozen tree. I stopped as well, and looked at her, puzzled. She spoke softly as she stared off into the snowy ground.

"So... you must think I'm a monster."

Damn. Not at all what I was trying to say. I hope I haven't done any irreversible damage... "No... no, Coraline, I... I don't think that at all... you're just-"

"I'm everything you hate about yourself. Think about it – I kill people all the time, and never really give it much thought. Surely you must think I'm a terrible person."

"I don't think you're a terrible person at all. I see you, I know you've got a lot of good in you. I know you're just doing what you've been taught to do. There's a different standard for myself – I know what I'm capable of. I know I can resist. Anything less is my fault. You've changed the way I see vampires – you and Wesley and Harriet. You're not bad people. I know that..."

She sighed, still looking away. "It's not like I enjoy it, you know. I mean, somewhere deep inside, I know. I know it's a horrible thing. I just try not to think about it, because otherwise I'd..I'd just..."

"You'd just go around feeling guilty all the time like I do."

"Well, yes. And I already have enough issues as it is."

"Coraline, I'm not judging you. I still think you're a good person, even if you are a cold-hearted killing machine."

She let out a reluctant laugh.

"I guess I am okay some of the time."

"More than okay. So, now that you had your turn, can I ask you a personal question?"

She started walking again. "I wasn't aware this was a trade-off."

"C'mon, just one question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to.""
"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Why were you so opposed to going to the concert the other night?"

"Pass."

"Hey, now! I answered your question..."

"I just didn't feel like it."

"Come on, I know something was bothering you. It's alright, you can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

"You don't have to tell anyone, they already know. Are you sure you don't want to know something else? My shoe size, perhaps? My sign? I'm a Scorpio..."

"I'm just curious. You don't have to tell me..."

"No, I guess you might as well know. I used to come here – to Vienna, a lot. Wesley, Harriet and me. And, well, sort of a guy."
"Sort of a guy?"

"Okay, a guy. Rodney. The four of us did pretty much everything together. Vienna was our place, you know? We came and listened to the concerts almost every weekend. We sat in the same chairs, stayed in the same hotel... so, it's just... I dunno, it's all a little too familiar."

"So, whatever happened between you and Rodney? I take it you're not on good terms anymore..."

"He's dead."

"Oh." Long, silent pause. "Wow, I'm...I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be." She interrupted, suddenly firm and emotionless. "It's ancient history now. What's done is done." You could almost audibly hear her closing back up emotionally. Well, this conversation is over.

Almost.

"Well, I can only imagine how... difficult this whole trip must have been on you. I don't blame you for... well, for feeling the way you do. If there's anything I can do to-"

"We can stop talking about it." Short, strong, slightly cutting. She wasn't angry, but she would have been if I hadn't dropped it.

Okay, now the conversation's definitely over.

We kept to very basic smalltalk the rest of the way back to the hotel. Once we arrived at our luxurious room, we found a note scribbled (hastily, it would seem) on a piece of hotel stationary.

Cor,

Found something to cheer Hattie up.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING.

Be back around 5

-Wesley

Christmas. I hadn't really been paying attention to things like dates in a long time. Is it really that soon? A quick reference to the newspaper under the door answered my question. December 18. The big day was just a week away.

"Christmas shopping? Do you all celebrate Christmas?"

Coraline was frank but humorous. "Harriet celebrates anything involving shopping."

"Wow. I'd better get on it, then."

"Get on what?"

"Christmas shopping. I haven't bought any of you anything yet."

"Oh, I don't buy anything. It's all Harriet."

"Why not?"

"What's the point? If we want something, we can just take it."

"Yes, but you're missing the whole motivation. It's about showing someone you care – that you're thinking about them."

"I think about Harriet and Wes all the time. It doesn't mean I need to buy them stuff."

"Well, you know they're buying you something. Wouldn't it be nice to give them something in return this year? I think we should go Christmas shopping for them – you and me. Whadda ya say?"

"Well, I guess it would be the polite thing to do... I don't know...."

"C'mon, what else are we gonna do all day?"

"Okay, okay. You win. Where do you want to start?"

We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon making the street-corner store circuit, and much to my surprise (and to Coraline's, I suspect) we had a splendid time. I found a nice camera for Harriet, and decided to put it to use a little before I gave it to her. I photographed everything – haggling for a lower price on a leather satchel, the the odd couple in lederhosen playing music for spare change, and Coraline trying on all sorts of hats. We must have tried every hat boutique in the city. Large hats, petite hats, from chic and fashionable to downright silly – we tried them all. Even I got in on the action – talk about silly! Coraline probably laughed more during those few hours than I had seen her laugh in the entire time I had known her. It was a great afternoon. I ended up buying Wesley a deluxe compass for all his adventures, and I made sure Harriet's new camera was as good as new once I had finished 'testing it out.' After gift wrapping our purchases, we headed back to the hotel to meet up with the others and get ready to head home. Only seven days until Christmas, and this year I was looking forward to it.

"Harriet, love, you can stop trying. We don't have to have a snowy Christmas. Honestly." Ever since her slip-up with the snow in Vienna, Harriet had been utterly obsessed with the weather patterns.

"I will have my way. It's going to snow before sunrise. You watch." Wesley and Harriet's room had been converted into Christmas Central – the bed replaced with a large, freshly cut Christmas tree complete with ribbons, candles and ornaments. A tidy collage of gifts lay in a choreographed array under the spruce branches, just waiting to be opened. Harriet was excited – this was the first year she would be getting gifts from more than just Wesley. I was excited, too. This was the first year in a very long time that I had even celebrated Christmas. Without my family around, it hadn't meant much to me. Now I had a different sort of family to celebrate with, and for that I was very thankful.

We passed the night away singing Christmas carols, telling stories, and shaking presents repeatedly. As soon as the first light of dawn came over the horizon, it would be time to open gifts. Harriet ran downstairs every fifteen minutes to check the window for the first sign of light, but once the usual time of dawn approached, it was more like every five minutes. If that. Just like Noah's dove, after a series of pointless ventures, she eventually noticed something different.

"Welsey, Coraline! Hurry! Come look. Grant, you too." We all joined her at the large living room window, and immediately saw what she was so excited about. It was snowing.

"It's snowing! See, I told you! I told you it would snow. Yay! I'm still special."

"Of course you're special, love. Great job." Wesley spoke for the rest of us. We were all secretly relieved that Harriet had been able to see the snow she so desperately wanted. None of us wanted another day of "dejected Harriet" like we had last week. She was even worse than "dejected Coraline."

A few moments later, the first rays of sun came creeping over the Eastern hills, and it was time to open gifts. We took turns opening our presents – one person unwrapped while the other three watched. First was (surprise!) Harriet. She got a "fabulous" hat from Coraline, the camera from me, and a "Night on the Town" date package from Wesley, including a complete new outfit and "exclusive class" train tickets to Paris.

Next was Wesley. He got a leather satchel with his initials imprinted on it from Coraline, the deluxe compass from me, and an entire mountain of gifts from Harriet, far too many to go into detail describing.

Next was my turn. Harriet and Wesley decided I looked so dashing in my tuxedo from the concert that they bought me an entire formal wardrobe, and an actual solid wood wardrobe dresser to store my new clothing in. Coraline apologized for not making it out to shop for me, but promised a double-portion next year. I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed, but I understood. At this point, buying me a gift was probably just a little awkward for her.

She was the last to open her gifts, and Harriet was giddy with excitement to see her reaction as she opened the gift from her and Wesley. My gift served as the warm-up for the big event – a cashmere scarf that she had tried on while we were shopping in Vienna. She really liked it, but decided not to buy it for herself since we were shopping for everyone else's Christmas gifts. I snuck back out to purchase it before we had left town. She thanked me kindly for the present, and prepared for Wes and Harriet's big gift. It was a small, thin box, too small to hold anything more than a stack of papers. After unwrapping it, she pulled out an aged-looking collection of handwritten musical notation. On the top of the front page, the words

Piano Sonata in F Major

were written in ornate script. Coraline was excited, but a little confused.

"What is this? I don't recognize it."

"Look on the back" Harriet said with eager anticipation. On the last page was a name that Coraline and I both instantly recognized in amazement.

Ludwig von Beethoven

"No... is this...is this?" Coraline was in surprised disbelief.

"An original. Hand-written. Number thirty-three. Actually, it's not quite finished."

"But, Beethoven only produced thirty-two sonatas."

"Music historians have only found thirty-two. This one was never released to the public."

"Harriet, how on earth did you find this?"Harriet just beamed with satisfaction.

"We have our sources..." Wesley chimed in.

"Yes, and I've been waiting for months to give this to you. I thought I was gonna go crazy!"

"It's wonderful. Thanks so much, you two." Harriet's smile swung momentarily into a pout-like frown. "Aren't you the least bit curious why we bought you a piano sonata?"

"Because it's extraordinarily collectible and rare?"

Wesley spoke up again. "You should go into your spare room, Coraline. There's one other little surprise for you." We all walked across the middle foyer and down the hall into the forbidden room. Harriet went in first with her new camera, wanting to document Coraline's reaction. As we stepped into the room, I was astounded. Right there in the middle of the bland low-income apartment room was a brand new grand piano. And not just any piano – it was like a piece of art all to itself. Even the normally-reserved Coraline was visibly excited at the "one other little thing" in her room. The instrument was beautiful; glossy black, with ornate wood treatments at every joint and curve. Steinway & Sons glimmered in gold print above the keyboard. Even someone as loosely associated with music as I was knew that it was a masterpiece instrument. Harriet soaked in our reactions like a hyperactive sponge, taking photos of our astonished faces as we all inspected the gift of the day.

"So, do you like it?"

"Of course! It's beautiful. And a Steinway? Honestly, Harriet, you do too much."

"Nonsense. I can never do too much for my favorite sister."

"I don't understand...how did you even get it in here?"

"The legs are detachable and Wesley is very strong." Wesley flexed his biceps playfully.

"You know..." Harriet continued with an expectant tone, "I – well, we were hoping that you might be willing to play something on it. I mean, we haven't heard you play anything in a long time... Whadda ya say?"

"Well, I haven't really played the piano in so long... I'm not sure I'd be good anymore."

"I'm sure you're just fine. C'mon play something for us. Please..."

"Okay, okay. But just one song, alright? I need practice before I can perform on it or anything."

She pulled out a box full of sheet music and selected a short piece to play for us. Her playing was far from perfect, but we were perfectly delighted to hear it. The sounds that came out of the instrument were so rich and soothing – it was like an audible filet mignon, satisfying to the fullest. After she finished her 'one song' we all went to our rooms to give attention to our new possessions, spending the afternoon playing with, organizing and otherwise enjoying every gift in turn.

Wesley and Harriet packed up a few of their new outfits and set out for Verviers around 9pm. At least, that's where they said they were going. The train didn't leave until early the next morning, but Wesley had planned some evening activities for the two of them before they actually headed out. Their absence left me at home alone with Coraline for the evening, a fact which I hoped to profit from.

After the lovers left, I spent twenty minutes in my room alone, staring at one last wrapped box. I was debating whether or not I should give it to its recipient, whether it might be better to just hide it and go the safe route. Something inside me drove me on, though, and eventually I gave way to it. I picked up the modestly wrapped present and carried it across the foyer to Coraline's apartment. She was in her spare room with the door closed, and for a moment I considered turning around and going back to my side of the building, but the urging inside me was unrelenting, and I found myself moving forward to knock gently on her door.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

I opened the door to find her sitting on her new piano bench, sorting through the music that had been in the box earlier. Her body language suggested she was feeling down about something. I couldn't help but ask.

"How are you doing? Having a merry Christmas?"
A long sigh. "No, not really."

"I'm sorry. I know Harriet meant well, I guess she just didn't-"

"No, it's not that. I love my gifts – all of them. The scarf you bought is very nice. And this piano... I mean, just look at it. It's all wonderful."

"Then, why so glum?"

"It's this." She held up a handful of musical arrangements. "I used to write all the time, just for the fun of it. I would play for Harriet any time she wanted." She hung her head. "I used to be a happy person, you know? I haven't always been like this. But now... I'm turning into my father."

"Your father?"

"He was a first chair violinist for the New York Symphony Orchestra when he met my mother. He could play anything – he was amazing. My parents lived in New York for eight years and made a great living, but when my grandmother came down with consumption, my father insisted that they move back to Vancouver to take care of her. My mother was six months pregnant with me when they moved.

My father was a founding member of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra – he was the star musician. The problem is, my mother hated life in Vancouver... and she hated being a mother. She left my father when I was less than two years old; ran off with the family accountant and took most of what we had with her. My father never really got over it. He started drinking too much, quit the orchestra, never really got out at all. He barely made a living, fixing instruments instead of playing them.

I remember he used to play the saddest songs... I was the only one who ever got to hear him play. I would sit outside his room and listen to the music – it was his therapy... He was a good man, he just couldn't get over it, and it destroyed him. And now, look at me. I've become the same thing; damaged, used-up. Broken." She looked up at me, her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It's not like you should care... sorry I put a damper on your Christmas." She sighed again heavily, resting her head on her arm as she leaned over the piano. "I'm such a downer all the time. I don't even like being around myself, no wonder nobody else does."

"...I like being around you."

"No you don't." She replied, her head still buried in her arm. "You like the idea of being around me. You don't really know me, Grant. This is who I am. I'm a drag."

"Well, even a drag needs company now and then, don't you think? Would you be open to a little cheering up?"

"I don't know... I guess." She looked up again. She was so beautiful, even in sorrow. So beautiful.

"Well, I'm not really sure how much cheer this'll actually bring, but... I sort of have one more gift for you..." I pulled the wrapped box from behind my back and handed it to her. She looked at it with confusion.

"Did you just get this?"

"No, I've had it a few days... I just wanted to wait to give it to you."

She unwrapped the box slowly, and pulled out the gift inside. It was a cherry wood music box, about six inches on all sides, with lighter wood ornamental inlays curving in floral patterns around it.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Open it." I was nervous, but it was too late to back out now. As she opened the wooden box, the little tinkling melody of a waltz began playing. The very one, it so happened, that we first danced to. Inside the felt-lined box was a small collection of my favorite photos from the spontaneous shopping trip we went on in Vienna.

I waited in agonizing silence as she very slowly inspected the interior of the box, lifting the photographs out one by one. I could see a reluctant smile sneak across her perfect mouth now and then, and fleeting as they were, the little expressions brought me tremendous happiness.

Eventually, the silence was too much for me. What is she thinking? Maybe if I explain it....

"I was out shopping a few days ago, and I heard the melody from the street. The waltz, it's the same-"

"I recognize it. I remember..."

"I just thought... well, since you used to love Vienna so much, and since all your memories are hurtful ones... I thought maybe this could be a place where you could store new memories. Happier ones. At least, I hope happier ones..."

"Yes," she said faintly, "they are happier ones. It's very sweet, Grant. You shouldn't have..."
"You deserve to be happy, Coraline. You don't have to be the hermit your father was. I'm here... and Harriet and Wes. We all like spending time with you. You're not a drag." She looked at me, directly into my eyes, sending my head spinning.

"Thank you. I needed that..."

My heart danced wildly in my chest as I shared one more electric moment locked in her gaze. I could have stared into her big, pretty eyes for hours. I felt the gravitational pull of knowing her tugging at me ever more powerfully, a force greater than planets. I had to know her. I had to learn more. There was nothing else in the world I wanted. This was my great quest, my adventure. I was truly falling for her.

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Coraline."

12. HOLIDAY

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE NEED?" CORALINE AND I TURNED OUR heads in unison to see Wesley's upper body lean in through the doorway. "A holiday."

Coraline's eyebrows bunched together as her head tilted to one side. I imagine I was doing the same thing.

"You just got back in town yesterday. From your Christmas vacation..."

"Oh, that? That was just an extended date."
"And the four days in Vienna?"

"That was still normal stuff. I'm talking about a real holiday. Go someplace different – and stay there for a while."

"Did you have somewhere in mind?" I jumped into the mix.

"Okay, hear me out." He stepped into the room fully as he continued, leaning in close for dramatic effect. "Imagine spending a whole day outside in the blinding sun, skiing, hiking, exploring. You don't care that your skin is sparkling like crazy, 'cause there's not a human around for fifty miles in every direction. There's nothing but snow, sky and freedom. That's the kind of holiday we need."

"You want to spend a week in Antarctica?"

"No, are you kidding? Antarctica's boring. I'm thinking... Himalayas."

"As in, Mount Everest Himalayas? You do know that's, like, five thousand miles from here..." Leave it to Coraline to be the skeptic.

"Exactly! That's why it's a perfect holiday spot. Because it's far, far away. And also 'cause it's really remote and otherwise awesome."

"Just how long of a 'holiday' are you planning to take?"

"I dunno, a month, maybe six weeks. It'll be fine. We can eat on the way. And I'm sure we won't have much company – everyone's still hanging around the European scene. It's perfect."

Coraline was actually considering it, skeptical as she may have been.

"But what about Philippe? I've got to be there every other week. You know that."

"Ahh, Philippe, Shmilippe. As far as I'm concerned, he can take that 'oversight committee' crap and shove it up his cocky a-"

"Wesley Pemberton!" Harriet's hand made a distinct 'thud' as it slapped his shoulder. "What have I told you about swearing?"

"You can take the sailor outta the sea, but you can't take the sea outta the sailor, love." He smiled.

"I'll take your sea out."

"Hattie, that doesn't even make sense."

"You know what I mean, mister." She was playfully stern. "No more swearing around the ladies."

"Alright. No more. I swear." He winked at her and directed the conversation back on track with his original agenda. "So whadda ya say, Cor? Wanna see the rest of the world?"

"Of course it sounds like fun, but what am I supposed to tell Philippe?"

"You can tell him to go to helllllllllllP...himself...to a...er... OW!" Harriet landed another slap, this time a little harder.

"What? I said help..."

"You are not funny." Harriet was serious. Wesley was trying not to laugh.

"I guess if we're all out of the area... he'd be okay without me there for a few weeks... It would be nice to not have to worry about things so much..." Coraline was talking more to herself than to anyone else – Wesley and Harriet were caught up in their little squabble. I was listening, though. I was always listening.

"Okay, count me in." She finally conceded.

Wesley pulled back into the conversation for a moment. "Great. Get your bags packed, then. You comin' too, G?"

'G'? So now I'm 'G'? Okay, whatever works... "Sure. Sounds great. When are we leaving"

"I dunno - couple hours, maybe."

"Hours? Why so soon?" Coraline was still the one dragging behind.

"Corpus diem, Cor. Time wasted is time lost."

"Uh, I think you mean 'Carpe diem', sweetie." Harriet corrected his Latin.

"What did I say?"

"You said 'body day.' In Latin." Coraline showed off a bit of her education.

"Oh. Well in that case, 'body day' too. No sense dragging our feet. We'll leave at sundown."

Once the sun was safely out of play, we left our apartment home, heading in a generally Southeastward direction. The plan was to cover as much ground on foot as possible during the night, and use the days to either catch a train or explore the nearby towns. We made great progress the first night, and spent the following day walking around Budapest. It probably would have been a nice place to visit, had it not been for the war. Most of the city's historical sights lay in ruins. We took off again at sundown, and made our next stop in Istanbul. Again, we spent the day wandering around the city. Wesley had asked Harriet to keep the shopping to a minimum, since we would have to carry around whatever we bought for the next several weeks, but it wasn't enough to keep her from purchasing several scarves, a large woven blanket, and a variety of small keepsakes from the markets there in town.

Once it was dark again, we set out across the increasingly desert-like landscape, narrowly making Tehran, Iran, by daybreak. This time, we didn't have the luxury of touring the town. The sun was out in full force, so we kept our distance from the population and waited until nightfall to move again. By the time we had passed through most of Iran, Wesley decided it would be best to keep moving, day or night, and enter the mountain range through Afghanistan. We were getting back to familiar territory for him, and he guided us on a carefully-planned route through the wilderness, weaving around settlements so we could move freely during the daylight.

After nearly two days of crisscrossing through the desert, we reached the mountain range at last. We decided to take a bit of a travel break before heading up into the mountains, and spent close to an entire day visiting the nearby towns and villages. The other three hunted around the area after sunset; we were planning to be away from humans for a good while, and they weren't used to going more than a week or two without feeding. Once everybody had satiated their thirst, we began our long journey through the tallest mountain range in the world.

For someone who had never really been through any other mountain range besides the Alps, the Himalayas were quite impressive. Wesley was the only one of us who had ever been to this region of the world before, and he gave us the grand tour, taking us around steep, snow-covered paths that wound through peaks and valleys as far as even the vampire eye can see. Our eventual goal was not to climb Everest, but a nearby peak, Ama Dablam. Wesley had investigated it, and as recently as a month previous, its summit had never been reached by man or vampire. Ama Dablam was on the Eastern side of the range, so we steadily made our way around ice-capped peaks, staying far away from the threat of any human detection. By the third day of our mountain trek, we were all ready for a break from the hiking, so Wesley took us to one of his favorite slopes, and we pulled out our skis.

I hadn't been skiing since I was a graduate student, Harriet had tried it out with Wesley once before, and Coraline had never even put skis on, so it was a rather comical scene with the three of us trying to keep up with Wesley. Not surprisingly, he wanted to tackle the more extreme areas of the mountainside, and the three of us who were novices ended up spending most of the time just watching him race down the impossibly steep hill like a flash of lightning.

Wesley wasn't much for finesse when it came to skiing technique. Mostly, he was after speed, and a challenge to stay upright. Once, he misjudged a drop, and planted his skis in the ice, sending his rock-solid body pile-driving into the snow with such force that I was sure he'd started an avalanche. Harriet gasped and raced over to see if he was okay. Before she was halfway to him, he burst out of the ground, a huge smile beaming from ear to ear.

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Did you see that? I must've slid through the snow for two hundred yards. WooHoo! This is the life, eh?" None of the rest of us were too eager to try out his experience for ourselves, so we stuck to the more gentle grades and passed the day by taking it easy. The four of us in a sea of snow, not a care in the world - It was about as relaxing as life could possibly get for a vampire.

After sundown, we got on our way again, still heading east across the zigzagging peaks. There was plenty of time for conversation as we climbed and descended the rocky terrain, and there was no shortage of topics to discuss. There would have been enough talking between Harriet and Wesley to fill every spare moment with speech, but Coraline and I were able to wedge a word in every now and then. It was really a good way to get to know my friends better, and the ongoing discussions kept things fresh as we traveled for two more days, crossing the border into Nepal somewhere along the way. By the end of the second day, Wesley was eager to try a few other slopes for skiing, so we took another break and climbed up one of the more snow-covered peaks to take another try at skiing.

The mountain we used this time was noticeably higher than the one we had skied on earlier, with a more gentle slope (at least, part of it was more gentle) and a longer patch of snow before giving way to the rock underneath. Thankfully, Harriet talked Wesley into giving us all a little refresher course on skiing before he took off to try the more "extreme" areas of the mountainside. Ever the entertainer, he kept the lesson light and funny, but I ended up laughing mostly at Coraline. For someone who seemed to be good at absolutely everything, she was woefully inept on skis. Even with Wesley's expert guidance, she was struggling to stay upright. She looked rather like a newborn colt trying to stand for the first time, legs wobbling, moving in opposite directions. Harriet and I couldn't help but laugh, and eventually Coraline laughed along with us.

Harriet began skiing the medium slopes successfully, which left me with Coraline near the bottom of the snow field. After about an hour of coaxing and building her confidence on the easier patches, I finally talked her into climbing higher and trying a longer stretch with me. We carried our skis up the mountain side for a thousand feet or so, going as high as we could without really struggling to climb, and prepared for our big run. Coraline was nervous. It was actually kind-of cute.

"Grant, are you sure we should try this? I mean, I could hardly do the bunny slopes – what if I get going and can't stop?"

I chuckled. "If you can go more than fifty yards upright on your skis you'll be doing well. I don't think you need to worry about going out of control. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? You're a vampire, remember? The indestructible, immortal kind. You'll be fine."

"Ugh. Alright..." she conceded, "but if I crash, it's your fault." We got our skis on and picked out our route. Coraline insisted that we go down together so I could help her if she happened to wipe out, so we stood there side by side, ready to descend.

"Alright, we'll start at the count of 'three.' do you remember how to slow down?" She moved her skis into a 'V.'

"Like this?"

"Perfect. See, you know what you're doing." I shuffled over to her side. "Here we go – ready?"

"No, wait – wait are you-"

"One..."

"Grant, I...I don't think I'm quite-"

"Two..."

"maybe we should re-think-"

"Three!" I gave her a gentle nudge on the back, and she took off, skis wobbling, but pointing in the same direction.

"Hey!" She shouted back to me without looking. "You're supposed to ski with me..."

"I'm right behind you," I assured her as I followed her down. "you're doing fine. Just remember to keep going back and forth. Remember what we talked about?"

"Right. Zigzag. Got it."

I watched her slide down the mountain like a drunkard, weaving and bobbing, but not turning. I called out to remind her.

"Coraline? You need to turn. You're going a little too fast..." Her weaving and bobbing started to narrow down to a straight path as she picked up speed.

"I can't turn. I can't..." She sounded frantic.

"Relax, Coraline. Bend your knees. Coraline? You've gotta – Coraline! Slow down." She was going faster and faster down the mountainside, without any variation whatsoever.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I'm out of control! Help! I can't slow down! Grant!"

I tried to suppress a laugh as I brought my skis inline and raced to catch up to her. Coraline – always the serious one. It was actually harder than I thought to reach her – she was going rather fast – but I eventually got to within five yards of her. I pulled up to her left side and waved with a smile.

"Hey there. Ready to slow down a little?"

She was still in panic mode. "What are you doing? Help me!"

"I'm trying," I chuckled. "just try to relax, and – wait, Coraline. Don't – no, no... don't..." She started to move over to grab hold of my arm, which at this speed was a very bad idea.

"Coraline, don't! You're going to-"

"I have to stop, Grant. I have to slow down. Help!" She inched closer, her wobbling skis just an arm's reach from mine.

Oh, no. Not good. "Listen to me – this is not the way to st-" She reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me off-balance with her as our skis became tangled. One of them dug into the snow awkwardly, and we both went tumbling head-first into the snow. The two of us rolled down the slope for what seemed like an eternity, colliding with each other as we gradually slowed to a stop near the bottom. I was laughing as I stood up and went over to help her out of the snow bank she had landed in. Her flailing legs were sticking out of the ground as her upper body lay buried in the snow drift. I grabbed hold of them and yanked her out, chuckling again as her body plopped on the ground with a soft thud. She blinked repeatedly as she brushed the snow from her face. She was mad.

"I told you! I told you I would crash."

"But look – you're fine. You have to admit, it was at least a little fun." My smile widened. Her face grew even more furious. I couldn't help it – there was just something so comical about her fury. She looked down at her right foot, which was still connected to half a ski. The other half must have been somewhere up the slope. She spoke with slow deliberation. "You. Broke. My. Skis."

I chuckled. "You don't even like skiing. What's the big de-"

And she tackled me before I could finish.

We both went tumbling down the mountain again, and landed side by side just feet from the snow line. Our faces were just inches from each other. She was so fuming mad, I'm sure her face would have been red if she had any blood in it.

"You – you..." She couldn't even finish a sentence. I tried to keep a straight face for several seconds, but I just couldn't keep it up, and I burst into laughter. Big, hearty, uncontrollable laughter. She continued to huff and puff for a moment before a reluctant smile broke across her face, then a chuckle, then a big laugh like mine. We just laid there and laughed like a couple of loons for a while, occasionally making a remark about her half-ski or something to that effect. Eventually I stood up and brushed the snow off.

"Need a hand?" I reached my arm out to help her up.

"Sure." She said as she took it – and then yanked me to the ground. She grabbed my face and buried it into the ground. "Take that, mister 'Oh, you'll be fine, Coraline. You're practically an expert, Coraline.'" She growled playfully as she held my head under the snow.

"Mmghf wghf... grfhf frgwhf" was all I could reply as my mouth was filled with snow. I gathered my strength and arched my back, sending her flying across the powdery snow with a shriek. I raced over to her with a handful of snow that I stuffed into her mouth. She squealed as she tried unsuccessfully to fend off the attack. We spent the next fifteen minutes chasing each other through the snow, shoving the white powder all over each other's faces, hair and clothing. By the time we finally climbed back up the mountain to meet up with Harriet and Wes later that afternoon, we looked as if we had been lost in the frozen wilderness for weeks. Harriet's eyes widened as she saw us walking up the mountainside.

"Whoa, what happened to you two?" Coraline's hair was a tangled rat's nest of frozen red strands, ice and dirt. I'm sure I didn't look any better.

"Coraline wiped out and took me with her half way down the mountain."

"Whatever! Grant was supposed to help me slow down, and instead he got us tangled up and broke my skis. We're very lucky to be alive." She spoke the last line in a jesting "know-it-all" tone. Harriet raised her eyebrows, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Ooooooo-kay. No more skiing for you two."

We traveled further east through the night, getting ever-closer to our destination, Ama Dablam, and by mid-morning we could see it in the distance, standing picturesquely beside Everest. It was a rather unique-looking peak – I was looking forward to climbing it. With our goal in sight, it was easier to find the motivation to press ahead, and by sundown we were just one valley away from beginning our ascent up the mountain. Since we were so far ahead of schedule (there was a schedule?), Wesley suggested we take a small detour to a secluded lake nearby.

It was one or two in the morning when we reached the large body of water, and there was no one in sight. It was a clear night; the moon's reflection shined from the motionless surface of the water like a giant mirror.

"You know what we should do?" Harriet broke the silence with excitement in her tone. "We should play 'tag.'"

Wesley smiled. "Why do you think I brought us here?"

"Oh, goodie! Are you gonna play this time, Coraline? You know it's more fun with more people..."

Coraline sighed. "I guess so. But I only have one other outfit and it's really not much good for hiking, so this one better dry off fast."

"You could always just play in your skivvies..." Wesley joked as Coraline rolled her eyes.

"You wish. So, Grant, are you gonna play too?"

"Um, I guess so. Are the rules different or something? I don't remember worrying about wet clothing when I played 'tag' as a lad..."

"The rules are the same," Harriet replied. "we just play on the water instead of land. It makes it a little more interesting."

"You mean 'in the water.' Like swimming, right?"

"No, not in the water. Where would be the fun in that? You're on top of the water until someone catches you. Actually, it's more like a 'tackle' than a 'tag.'"

"Wait a minute – you mean you run... on top of the water?"

They all looked at me as if I was asking if birds can fly.

"Yeah. Don't you do that?" Coraline seemed surprised.

"I've never even heard of it. But, of course it makes sense if you think about it. The rate of speed, the relative light weight... Amazing! How did I never notice that before?"

"No offense, mate, but you never noticed a lot of things before." Wesley placed a hand on my shoulder, probably to reinforce the 'no offense' part.

"Okay, I'm in. Who's 'it' first?"

"You are," Wesley said with a smile as he shoved me back and took off along with the girls, running across the placid lake like it was solid ground. He was good at this game, I knew he would be the hardest to catch. Coraline was pretty competitive as well (and fast), which left me with Harriet as my target. I chased her out across the middle of the lake and almost had her – right up until the point where she turned around and ran the other direction. I learned a valuable lesson as I turned to follow her. Running on top of a liquid requires a great deal of forward motion – the kind of forward motion you lose when you pull a tight turn. I slowed up just enough to lose my edge, and plunged feet first into the absolutely freezing water. I could hear the others laughing as my head popped back up above the surface.

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" Harriet teased from a distance.

"How am I supposed to get back on top of the water?" I shouted to anyone in general.

"Swim. Really, really fast." Wesley coached as he raced by. I did as he said, and though it took me several tries, I was finally able to get back on the surface. I tried Harriet again, but she just kept changing direction so quickly I couldn't keep up, so eventually I switched my tactics, and went after Coraline. She was faster than Harriet, but not nearly as shifty, and after a little persistence, I cornered her near the shore and reached out, grabbing just enough of her heels to pull her down with me as I sank into the water.

"Tag – you're 'it.'" I swam quickly away as she counted to ten and began following me.

The game was on.

We spent an hour and a half chasing each other across the lake, taking turns dunking each other in the cold water. Everyone was thoroughly soaked as we ran back onto dry land and started heading back to our mountain. Everyone, that is, but Harriet, who was perfectly dry, apart from the soles of her shoes. Wesley once again placed his arm around my shoulder as we walked back across the rocky valley.

"Not bad for your first time, mate. Even got me once. 'Course, you did pick the worst possible person to start off chasing." Harriet smiled as she walked by with a visible bounce in her step.

"I haven't been tagged in the last three games. How's it feel to be all wet, boys?"

"I'll show you how it feels."

"No-no... Wesley..." Harriet took off running, but she was too late. Wesley scooped her up and carried her, squealing and arms flailing, back to the lake for a dramatic dunk in the water.

"Wesley Pemberton!" She scolded as they came up out of the water. "I can't believe you did that. You are such a sore loser."

"Nah, I just didn't want you to feel left out." Always the flirt. Wesley probably had more fun than anyone I'd ever known.

With the four of us now equally drenched, we made the trek back to the base of Ama Dablam and got ready to start climbing at daybreak. Since no one had ever successfully climbed the mountain before, it was up to Wesley to plan our route to the top (not that he would've used someone else's path anyway). We started up the southwestern face at first light, and for the first few hours, the going was easy. Once we got further up the steep slope, things became more interesting. Wesley was the only one of us who really had much experience in mountain climbing, and even for a vampire, this mountain was a difficult climb. Some of the ice patches were next to impossible to cross – if we hadn't had Wesley and his gear with us, we surely wouldn't have made it across.

The wind picked up as the afternoon began to fade and we neared the summit. There were times when I thought I was going to be blown right off the face of the mountain, but we kept pushing on. Wes ended up carrying Harriet on his back for the final stretch of the climb, and even with her weighing him down, he still managed to lead us to the peak of the mountain before sundown.

We took our time to relax and have a look around once we reached the top. This was the first time on the trip that we had actually climbed all the way to a mountain's summit, and it was an impressive view. Snow-capped mountain peaks stood all around us, fencing us in on every side, as if we were on our own private island in the sky. It was a good thing we didn't need the oxygen in the air – there wasn't much there. It felt good, though – the brisk, icy air sweeping by with the wind. Once the sun started setting, Wes and Harriet went down the Western slope a bit to have a little private time to watch the event. Coraline and I settled in atop the very apex of the summit, content to watch the sunset from our perch in the clouds. It was the perfect setting for a real conversation – something I had been looking forward to since Christmas day.

13. CLARITY

THERE'S SOMETHING MAGICAL ABOUT SITTING ON TOP OF THE world. It plays with your head – being able to see everything laid out before you, having the perspective to see the bigger picture. Kind of like the way I wanted to be able to see things with Coraline. I wanted to learn so much more, and I knew the mountaintop was a great opportunity to do just that. I felt nerves well up inside me as I thought of all the questions I wanted to ask. No matter how many times I went over it in my mind, I still couldn't find a good way to start the conversation. So instead, we ended up talking about my days in the war with Harvey. I was more emotional about it than I expected – it had been a long time since I had allowed myself to think about him, and the bottled-up feelings came bubbling out like uncorked champagne. I told her about how he had been injured, about how I went on a rampage, and how to that day I still hadn't been able to find out if he was even alive or not. That thought caught her attention.

"So, wait – so you still don't know if he's alive or not?"

"No. I feel so bad. I tried everything I could think of..."

"I think I know someone who may be able to help."

"Really?" My dead heart jumped with sudden hope.

"There's a vampire who lives in Morocco. He's really old, and really gifted. He and his apprentice – they know everything about everything. If there's anyone at all who could help you find closure, it would be them."

She decided that we would talk to Wes and Harriet when they got back and ask if we could alter our vacation plans to make a special visit. I was infinitely grateful, and a little surprised at her kind gesture. Perhaps she is starting to accept me...

Once the talk about Harvey was over, we sat in relative silence and just enjoyed the setting sun as it painted the expansive vista around us. Gradually, the bright yellow hues in the clouds gave way to pinks, oranges, reds... and then the cover of night came, and the view got even better. The sky above us was more clear, more amazing than I had ever thought possible. There were no clouds in the way – they were all below us. There were no city lights for hundreds of miles. The moon shone brilliantly in a half-crescent, shedding a white glow over the world below us, but as lovely as it all was, it paled to the grandeur of the stars. Thousands – no, millions of stars glistened like a diamond canopy over our little mountain. I had never seen so many before, and never so brightly. It was breathtaking. Being the hobbyist astronomer that she was, Coraline was even more captivated by the scene than I was.

"Wow. This is really amazing! If only I'd thought to bring my telescope." She moved in closer to me, pointing out constellations with her elegant finger. "See there – that's Gemini. And over... here is Canis Major. And you see those three bright stars right there? That's Orion. Wow. Absolutely stunning. I've never seen the stars like this."

"I know. There are just so many. And from here you can see them all."

She reclined and rested her head in her laced fingers. I laid down beside her, leaving behind a view of the mountain range for a sea of stars.

She let out a contended sigh. "I could just lay here for hours looking at all of them."

"Yeah. So could I" As long as you're next to me.

"Do you believe in God?" Her question caught me off guard; it seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Umm, I...I think so. Do you?"

"I don't know. Normally I'd say 'no,' but sometimes... sometimes I look at something like this, and I think to myself, could something so huge, so beautiful and organized happen by accident?"

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good way to look at it."

"But then, if there is a God, why didn't he – or she – fix any of the problems with this whole 'creation' we're in the middle of? I mean, does he just not care, or did he leave, or die? Maybe what we call 'God' is just some life form that's evolved a step further than us – like we are to humans... maybe he or they can put things together, but can't change the way they run once they're built."

"Wow, I never really put that much thought into it. I went to church as a lad, so I guess I believe in God more or less. Of course, I'm not sure how to work that out with the whole 'vampire' thing."

"My father believed in God, and look where it got him – drunk, empty, alone. There was no one but me to watch him die. No one else even cared. God certainly didn't care. He was a good man – my father – but he was weak. He just couldn't handle things. He wasn't willing to face up to the facts – there's no reason for anything. Things happen because they happen."

"Things happen because something makes them happen. Or someone. I believe that. I believe in science."

"Ah, yes, the scientist and the artist. The left brain and the right. How can we possibly get along?"
"Oh, I think we have more in common than we have in opposition. We're both vampires for starters. And we're both generally kind, caring people. We like to lay and watch stars on top of twenty-thousand foot mountains. We've both lost people that were very close to us... and we both have the same 'older sibling' complex – me with my brother; you with Harriet."

She was quiet for a nervous moment. Oh, great. What did I say? Maybe I shouldn't have brought up losing loved ones... The pause ended before I could do much worrying.

"So listen, Grant, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. I wanted to tell you before, but I... well, I don't really trust anyone, y'know? But... I trust you, and you deserve to know – you've been so good about things. And of course, if I tell you this and I'm wrong about you... well, the three of us can always rip you apart and scatter the pieces across the Himalayas."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Thanks for the mental image. So what's the big secret?"

"It's about Harriet. She's very... special, and there are people out there, people that want to take advantage of her. I won't let that happen. She deserves better than that."

"'Special?' Like, how? I don't understand..."

She sighed. "It's a long story, I'll try to spare you the details..."

"No, I want the details. If that's alright with you."

"You sure? It can get a little boring."
"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, well, to understand Harriet, you have to know a little about how we grew up. My father came down with consumption when I was five years old; I'm sure he got it taking care of my grandmother. I watched him die alone. Slowly. He tried to shield me from it as much as he could - I mean, who would want their five-year-old weighed down with the emotional burden of watching her own father waste away with an incurable disease? I knew what was happening, though, and it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure. He finally died – penniless, friendless – one week before my sixth birthday. He left me with nothing. I had no aunts or uncles, no cousins, no close family friends. The only relative I had living was my mother, who had terminated parental rights for me when she ran off with the accountant.

I became a ward of the state, and got bounced around between orphanages and short-term foster homes for four years before I finally got a break. I had been going to see a child psychologist twice a month for depression counseling, and he had referred me to a specialist, who came to visit one day during my session. She was a beautiful woman; tall, with red hair like mine. She talked with me for a while, and for the first time since my father died I felt...special. Wanted. Important. She invited me to come live with her in a special school for gifted children. I accepted before she even had time to finish explaining what it was. It didn't matter – I just wanted to be with someone who actually wanted me. And she did. Her name was Eliza Thornbloom, and she's the only mother I've ever known.

So when I was ten years old I moved to Spice Mountain Children's Home in Vermont, and that's where I met Harriet. She was six at the time. She was an orphan like me – her entire family was killed when a Tornado hit their ranch in Oklahoma. Harriet was the only one who survived. We were friends pretty much from the first day we met. There was just something different about her. She was genuinely nice – the nicest person I had ever met.

Anyway, we grew up together at Spice Mountain, getting the finest private education money could buy. And then some. We didn't understand what kind of place it was – we were naive. Eliza was a vampire, working for the Volturi. "Spice Mountain" is a laboratory, a training ground for humans with 'special' potential. They put me in there because I was an unusually good judge of character; Harriet was there because she seemed to have some connection to the weather. They didn't really care about us as people, only what we could do for them if they decided to change us to vampires. Except for Eliza. She did care, even though she wasn't supposed to. We meant something to her. When I was eighteen, they gave me a full scholarship to Middlebury College in Vermont. That way, I could further my education, and stay close enough to visit Harriet on the weekends. She's always been like a little sister to me, and I couldn't stand the thought of moving far away.

When I graduated Middlebury, Eliza gave me a huge graduation present – a three week vacation in Italy. I was totally thrilled – I hadn't been out of the Vermont mountains since I was ten years old. As soon as I got off the plane in Milan, my whole life changed. Two Volturi guard members took me at the airport, stuffed me in the back of a car and drove me off to some abandoned building where they changed me into a vampire. I was horrified. They made me into a monster – a killer.

They kept me there for six weeks to "evaluate" me. The 'powers that be' were hoping that after the change my judge of character would translate into the ability to read minds, or something. When they figured out I wasn't what they were hoping for, they threw me out on the street with nothing. No money, no home. Nothing. I couldn't stand to have Harriet go through that – she was going to be finished with her schooling in less than a month, and I knew they would send her to the same fate that they sent me to. I got back to Spice Mountain as fast as I could, and tried to break Harriet out. Tried.

I waited until it was dark and everyone had gone to sleep, and I snuck in. I didn't tell Harriet much, just that she was in danger and we had to get her out of there right away. I picked her up and carried her out, and ran off into the woods. We thought we were going to escape, until we heard footsteps behind us, closing in fast. The Volturi didn't keep a lot of security around Spice Mountain, just one vampire – Pyotr. One was all they needed. I ran away as fast as I could, but with Harriet weighing me down, I couldn't outrun him. He caught up to me and tackled me from behind, taking me from the knees down. I had been carrying Harriet in my arms, and when Pyotr grabbed me, she went flying forward at, like, a hundred miles an hour. I still remember the sickening sound of her bones shattering as she hit a huge tree thirty yards away. I was so horrified I hardly had the awareness to fight Pyotr off. Harriet, my sister. My only real family. I thought she was dead. I tried to run to her, but I couldn't get away from Pyotr. He gave me this:" She rolled over and pulled the collar of her shirt to the side to reveal a long scar tracing from her right shoulder, across the base of her neck, and down toward the middle of her back.

"He was trying to decapitate me. He would have succeeded, too, if Eliza hadn't been there. She took him by surprise, ripped his head right off his body. I was in a state of shock – everything was a blur. Eliza tore Pyotr apart and ran over to check on Harriet. I had never seen her so emotional. For all her lies and shortcomings, she did love us like her own children, Harriet especially. She told me Harriet was dying, that the only thing we could do to save her was change her to a vampire. I hated the idea, but she insisted it was the only way. She knew I was a newborn and I couldn't handle the smell of fresh blood, even if it was Harriet's. I ran as far away as I could while Eliza changed her. When I came back, we worked out a plan. Eliza would say that it was some rogue vampire that broke into the orphanage, killed Pyotr and carried Harriet away. I was supposed to take Harriet and keep her out of sight – keep her from detection.

Well, Eliza's story didn't last long. The Volturi were furious at the way things were handled at the orphanage. Actually, they were afraid some of their potentials may be in danger. They came over to personally investigate things, which is something they rarely ever do. One of the three, Aro, has a special ability. They say if he touches you, he can know every thought you've ever had. He saw that Eliza was lying, and she was executed on the spot. No trial. No mercy. She died giving us time to run away. Fortunately, Aro was so concerned about his star pupil, Elliot Minter, that he really didn't care much about finding Harriet. We got the time to run away, and we made our way to Europe."

"So, what's so special about Elliot Minter?"
"Nobody knows. It's some big secret. He was only seven when I broke Harriet out. Must be something big, though."

"So you've been running from them – the Volturi – for what, two years?"

"Three, actually. And I wouldn't really call it 'running,' it's more like 'hiding.'"

"So, if you're hiding from the these guys, and they're in Italy... why aren't you in a place like this all the time? Why not New Zealand, or Madagascar, or somewhere a little more... remote?"

"We stay close because we have to. Because there's someone protecting us – someone who is very particular about things. We can't leave. I'm not even sure how much trouble we'll be in for this little venture when we get back."

"So, who is it?"

"His name is Philippe. I'm sure you've heard me mention him..."

"Yeah, I remember. So he's protecting you?"

"In a way, yes. For the past several months, he's been keeping our secret. We really owe what lifestyle we have to him."

"So, how did he get in on this? Is he an old friend? A spy? A psychic?"

"No, but it's another long story."

"I'm listening. Honestly, you can tell me..."

"It's about Rodney."

"Oh." … … … "I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have brou-"

"No, it's okay. I've told you everything else – you might as well know the whole story. Just... just promise me one thing, okay?"

"Sure. Anything..."

"Promise you won't judge me."

"Coraline, I don't-"

"You haven't heard the story yet. Promise me..."

"I promise. I'll do my very best."

"I met Rodney about a year ago; less than two months after Wesley joined us. He found Harriet and Wes in Geneva and befriended them. They brought him home that night – I didn't really have a choice in the matter. He was tall, strong, handsome... very likable right from the start; the kind of person you can just talk to for hours. And charming. He always had just the right thing to say at the right time, like every word that came out of his mouth was dressed in pure silk. He was... he was everything a girl could ever dream of. Harriet saw that, too."

I suddenly felt immensely inadequate; a blundering buffoon. Who wouldn't be when compared to 'mister perfect?' Unaware of my self-confidence crisis, she continued.

"Ever since she had found Wesley, I had been sort of the third wheel. I was adjusting to it, but it was hard. I mean, Harriet has been my absolute best friend for pretty much my whole life. To suddenly have to share her with someone else... it was hard. I was lonely. A lot. She brought Rodney home in hopes that I could have a special someone of my own. I remember even from the very first time I met him, I was drawn to him. There was just something about him that seemed to fit."

"So you really loved him, then..." The words seemed to punch me in the gut as they left my mouth. The thought of Coraline being swept away with another man the way I was with her – it was disheartening.

"I tried." The answer caught me off guard. I rolled to one side to face her.

"What – he didn't feel the same?" Was he mad? How could he not be utterly obsessed with her?

"No, that's not it. I tried to love him. I wanted to... so badly. I saw how happy Harriet was, how good Wesley was to her, and for her. I wanted that for myself. And Rodney had it all – everything I ever would have asked for. We spent three months together, night and day. We did absolutely everything together – the four of us. Vienna, Prague, Paris... every day was some new adventure. It was all so perfect, and at the same time, it was all so... so put on. I talked myself into feelings for him. I lied to myself and pretended to be crazy about him, but at the same time that he felt 'right,' he also felt 'off' in some way. I could never really put my finger on it. I should have seen it coming. Most of the reason we have to live in secrecy now is because I was blinded – because I tried to manufacture something that wasn't meant to be."

"So, what happened?"

"He found out about Harriet. Not just about her, but the fact that the Volturi were looking for her. You see, Harriet has much more potential than what she can do right now. She can do more than just predict the weather. She can manipulate it. If she developed her gift, really worked at it, she could produce a commodity that's very valuable in the vampire world. Shade. Think about it – free passage in any city at any time. Never being afraid to go anywhere you want, even in the middle of the day. She could pull clouds over the city and make it a haven for vampires. That's something the Volturi would love to get their hands on."

She paused for a moment, then continued speaking, still staring at the sky. "By the way, if you ever even think about telling this to anyone outside this family, I will personally rip you in half."

"Duly noted."

"So where was I?"

"Rodney found out about Harriet?"

"Oh, yes, okay. So he found out that Harriet was a highly sought-after asset, and decided to take advantage of it. Harriet and Wes left town for a three-week honeymoon of sorts that turned into a seven week world tour, which left me alone with Rodney outside of Brussels. As soon as they were gone, he started coming on to me. He told me he wanted to take our relationship to the 'next level.' He wanted me to commit to him; to be his mate. It was the one thing I was afraid he might ask. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't do it. It didn't feel right somehow. When I told him, he was really upset – he didn't talk to me for three days. When he came back, he was different. Different in a bad way. He told me that he knew all about Harriet, and he knew how much interest there was concerning her in Volterra. He threatened to turn her in if I didn't give him what he wanted."

She paused for a moment.

"What did he want?"

"... Something only a woman could give him."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I...um..." Wow. What do you say to that? I fumbled for something, but came up empty. She continued.

"I hated it. Every minute of it. Every touch, every caress... I knew his motives. He didn't care about me, he just wanted to use me. And I hated myself. I mean, here I was, giving myself to a man who thinks nothing of me, carrying out actions that are supposed to express love with someone I had grown to despise. It was terrible."

She rolled over to look at me for the first time in the conversation, her eyebrows pulled together, her face full of pleading. "Grant, I want you to understand, I'm not some kind of floozie. I have never been with another man before or after. I'm not like that. At all. I spent every moment wanting to cry and scream and vomit, all at the same time..."

I understood the feeling. I was getting a taste of it at that very moment. It was bad enough thinking of her liking another man, but to think of the... well, physicality of it... Ugh. Disgusting. I began to feel sick to my stomach, which doesn't really happen to vampires. She rolled back onto her back as she kept talking.

"I did it because I had to. Because I felt like I had no choice. I did it for Harriet. Eventually, I worked up the strength to try and leave him. I didn't know how I would get around it, but I decided I had to try. I planned on running away with Harriet and Wes, starting a new life somewhere far away. Well, the conversation didn't go well. He was furious that I was trying to leave. I tried to fight him off, but he was way too strong for me. He forced himself on me for one last time, and then he was going to kill me. I could read it in his every action. I was so scared... I don't think I've ever been that terrified in my whole life. Knowing that I was going to die, and that Harriet would be turned in, her life would be ruined... It was awful."

"But you're here now. You made it out, right?"

"Yeah, because of Philippe. He was running patrols in the area, and he heard me screaming. When he saw what was happening, he stepped in and rescued me. He killed Rodney, and took care of me for the next two weeks, until Wes and Harriet got back. I was a mess. I explained my situation to him, and the whole thing with Rodney, and he agreed to keep the secret. Philippe is a very persuasive person – it must be his ability. He exercises a lot of influence in Volterra, and as long as we stay close by and I do things for him when he asks, he makes sure no one decides to come looking for Harriet."
"Dear Lord! You have to sleep with him, too?" I wasn't sure I could handle another round of mental images.

"No, nothing like that. Philippe is too much of a gentleman for that. Mostly, he wants to use me to impress his friends. When the war in Europe broke out and so many vampires started coming, the Volturi commissioned guard members to posts in most of the battle zones to keep things under control. Philippe is the regional guard captain for Belgium and western Germany. I go up to Hamburg every other week to attend the security council meetings he has with the other regional captains. He likes to show me off; to pass me off like I'm with him."

"But you're not really with him, right?" Please say no...

"Philippe? No. No way. He's a gentleman, but that's probably the only good thing I could say about him. He's like every other man. All he wants is power – to control everything. He looks at me like a trophy to be won – like the prize fox in a hunt. He's incapable of loving anyone but himself. But... despite all that, I do owe him. I owe him big time. So, if he wants me to come twice a month and pretend to be his date for a meeting, I'll come. It's the least I can do."

"So, is Harriet okay with you making all these sacrifices for her? I mean, if it were me, I'd feel pretty guilty..."

"She doesn't know," Coraline responded in a serious, deliberate tone, "and she never will. I told her Rodney tried to put a move on me and Philippe stopped him. She thinks I go to Hamburg with Philippe because I want to feel important."

"She's an adult – don't you think she can handle the truth?"

"She shouldn't have to. She deserves the chance to keep that rosy view of life she has as long as possible. Besides, knowing wouldn't do her any good – it would just make her feel... well, guilty."

"I guess that's true. But still..."
"Grant, please..."

"Okay. I'll respect your wishes."

"Thanks."

We both went quiet for a little while as the new information slowly sank in. I had no idea she had been so manipulated – so abused. No wonder she was jaded. Anyone would be, given her circumstances. I understood why she was slow to trust me – it made perfect sense. At the same time, I so desperately wanted her to understand that I wasn't like those other... well, I won't call them what I was thinking in my head, but it was bad. I was nothing like them. I would never hurt her. Never.

We sat in silence again for a while before I turned to say one more thing.

"Coraline?"

"Yes?"

"I don't judge you for what you did. Anyone else would have done the same thing in your shoes."
"So you don't think I'm a hussy?"

"No. If anything, I respect you more. To go through what you did for your sister... you've been through a lot, and you're still going. It takes a lot of courage to keep living like you do." There was another brief pause before I continued. "And just to be fair, you shouldn't judge me, either."

"What do you mean?" She rolled over again to look at me.

"Not every man is out for whatever he can get. I'm not like them – Rodney and Philippe..."

"I know, Grant. That's why I felt okay to tell you about all this. You are different. In a good way."

"So, does that make us friends? Now that I'm in on the family secret?"

She reached her hand over to shake mine, and said the most wonderful thing I could hope for.

"Friends."

14. HERMES

"MOROCCO? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FAR AWAY THAT IS? We'd have to spend the rest of our holiday time just getting there. Why do you want to go there all of a sudden?" I could tell Wesley wasn't too fond of the idea. Not yet, at least.

"I want to take Grant to meet Hermes. We've got a question that only he can answer."

"Can it wait?"

"It's about his brother – Grant doesn't know if he's still alive or not, or where he is if he's still alive."

Harriet joined the conversation. "Oh, Grant, why didn't you say something before? Of course we'll go to Morocco. Oh, you poor thing, you must be worried sick about him." She turned to Wes, with her big, pleading, puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, Wesley? What if it was your brother?"

"They're all dead, love."

"You know what I mean. Grant needs our help."

"Not really. Cora can take him there."

"Well, then he needs our support."

"I support him if he wants to go. Doesn't mean I have to cancel my ski trip."

"Wesley! Quit being so difficult. We all need to go together."

"But we just got here, Hattie..."

Coraline jumped back into the conversation. "We don't have to go right away – we can compromise. How about we spend another week here, and then we can head out to Morocco."

Wesley thought about it for a moment. "But what about your little boyfriend? As I recall, we had to twist your arm just to get you to leave Belgium for a few weeks."
"He's not my boyfriend. I can handle Philippe when we get back. I'll figure out something to tell him. Don't worry about that part. So, do we have a deal?"

"Sure, if you wanna extend the holiday another few weeks, that's fine by me."

We spent another seven days up in the mountains, skiing, hiking, sledding, and otherwise enjoying the area. By the end of the week, everyone was getting thirsty (especially me!), so it was an easy transition into the next stage of our holiday journey. At my request, we headed for the nearest city to feed so I could find a suitable morgue to visit, which took us to Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal. After we all had our fill, we set out on the long pathway to Morocco. Since this was technically still part of our holiday, we decided to have as much fun with the trip as we could. Our path took us through a variety of interesting cities – New Delhi, Baghdad, Jerusalem, Cairo, Algiers. We took at least a half day in each one, exploring the business areas, shopping at the local markets, taking in the sights. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, which made me feel better, since they were all making this trip for me.

We finally arrived in Casablanca, Morocco eight days after setting out from the Himalayas. After taking a few hours to appreciate the shopping district of the city, we came to our destination. It was a white high-rise building, taller than any around it, located on the coastal side of the business district. Just as we stepped up to the door, a sharply-dressed young man appeared in the grand lobby of the building and came out to greet us. It was readily evident that he was a vampire. He stood about 5'8" or so, with short, straight brown hair that parted on the side. His gray pinstriped three-piece suit looked expensive, as did his two-toned wingtip shoes. Judging by his face, I'd say he wasn't more than eighteen or nineteen years old when his clock was frozen.

"Coraline Gray. Welcome," He said with cordial formality as he opened the large glass door for us.

"Hello, Theodore. How are you?"

"I would be doing better if I knew who your new friend was. Harriet and Wesley I know, but this gentleman I have never seen nor sensed before. I am not used to not knowing something..."

"Theodore, meet Grant Willoughby. He's a friend of mine from America."

He reached out his slender hand to shake mine. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Willoughby. You have such an interesting hue; have you been a vampire for long?"

"Well, I guess 'long' is a relative term," I replied. "It's been about eight years since I was converted."

"Fascinating..." He said as he stroked his chin in thought. "How did I never notice you before? I really must do a better job at looking for newcomers." He turned his attention back to Coraline. "I assume you are here to see Hermes..."

"Yes. Actually, we're here to see you both."

"I'm flattered. Well, Hermes is already hosting guests today, but I will ask him if he would be willing to grant you an audience. Wait here please." The young man turned and entered an ornate elevator in the center of the lobby. As soon as the door closed behind him, I turned to Coraline.

"So, who's Theodore?"

"He's Hermes' assistant. And butler, apparently."

"He can sense things?"

"Yeah, that's why he's working with Hermes. I guess I should've filled you in on the details earlier. Hermes has the ability to absorb information from written materials, like books or newspapers. He can digest an entire encyclopedia in a matter of minutes."

"Well, that's useful."

"Absolutely. He's been the answer-man for the vampire world for centuries. He knows everything about everything."

"So, where does Theodore come into the mix?"

"Theodore can sense the life forces in humans and vampires and connect with them. Well, with the vampires, at least."

"Okay, you lost me..."

"Every creature has their own unique life force. He says he sees them like different colors of light."

"Okay. So when he said I have a different hue..."

"He was sensing your aura. He tries to keep tabs on all the vampires in the area."

"So, how does that help Hermes?"
"Well, for one thing, it's a security measure. He can sense vampires coming from miles away. There's basically no way anyone can sneak up on him. Hermes isn't exactly on the best terms with the Volturi. They let him live here because he's so useful, but you never know with those three – they may decide he's too much of a liability. The real reason Theodore's here with Hermes is because he can use his ability to make Hermes' much more...marketable. When Theodore connects with another vampire's life force, he can form a sort of bridge between them. It takes a little effort, and he has to be very close by, usually touching them. Let's say you wanted to learn how to speak Italian. You come to Hermes, he pulls out a stack of books on learning the language, and puts his hand on them. Then, Theodore acts as a bridge between Hermes and you. Everything he absorbs gets passed along to Theodore and to you."

"Wow. That's really convenient. No wonder the Volturi don't want to destroy him."

"He used to be on better terms with them, but something happened along the way. They've been trying to win him back for a couple hundred years now."

"Really? So how old is this guy?"

"Well, he was a student of Aristotle, so... I dunno, about twenty-two hundred years or so."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm serious. He played a major role in organizing the first legitimate library in the world. He's one of the oldest vampires with a known age."

Theodore returned while we were still talking, walking over to us and waiting politely for Coraline to finish her sentence before he spoke.

"Hermes will see you now. Come with me."

He led us all to the elevator and we rode it to the top floor of the building. We exited into a huge open room; it looked as if the entire top floor of the building had been converted into one large suite. The entire room was dominated by white – from the marble tile floor to the textured walls to the painted metal ceiling. To our left was a row of wheeled carts loaded down with books, newspapers and other various printed materials. To our right was an expansive array of windows with a view of the ocean.

Theodore led us through the room to the far end, where four pale figures were seated on white couches. The one facing us stood as we approached, a warm smile arcing across his face. He was a short man, no more than 5'7" or so, with a medium build. White, curly hair formed a halo around his shiny bald head, and a large, flowing beard covered the bottom half of his face. He was dressed much more casually than Theodore; simple khaki slacks and a pull-over sweater. He looked like a man in his seventies – his face showing wrinkled signs of wear in all the typical places – yet there was a vibrancy about him that seemed more fitting for a twenty-year-old. Judging by his apparent age and undeniable vampire-complexion, I assumed he must have been Hermes. He stepped forward slowly as he spoke out in a warm, gravely voice.

"Coraline! My sweet, it's so nice to see you again so soon. I trust everything's going well for you..."

"Yes, very well, thank you."

Theodore cut off the exchange of greetings with his formal introduction.

"Great Hermes, may I present to you these four guests: Coraline Gray, Wes-"

"It's alright, Theo, there's no need for formality here," Hermes interrupted as he reached out to embrace Coraline. "These are friends."

"Very well, sir. Please let me know when I can be of assistance." Theodore turned and walked back to the elevator, as the man turned to address us.

"Harriet, it's nice to see you again. You're looking lovelier than ever. And I take it you and Wesley are together now..."

"Yes we are. Very happily." She replied as she clung onto Wesley's arm affectionately.

"So, whatever happened to that great place you had there in Paris? Why'd ya come all the way down here?" Wesley asked in his typical Australian intonation.

"The French just ask too many questions. That's what's great about Morocco – nobody cares what I do here as long as I pay the taxes and don't cause trouble. I do miss the social life, though. Those were the days..." The man turned to me and extended his hand out to shake mine. "And you must be Grant. I'm sure you've figured out already that I'm Hermes. It's always nice to meet a new face. Welcome."

"The pleasure is mine, sir. I'm still pretty new to the vampire world, and to meet someone so... experienced... it's a great honor."

"Oh, hogwash! You can say it – I'm old." He said with a wry smile. "Apollonius waited twenty years to change me. Twenty years! I think he waited so long just to irritate me. 'Here you go, Hermes – welcome to an eternal existence as a seventy-eight year-old crotchety old man.' Of course, the feeble-old-man look does help out with my whole 'wise guru' act, so I guess I shouldn't hate him too much, eh?" He winked and slapped me on the shoulder as he chuckled. Not exactly the personality you'd expect from a twenty-two hundred year-old master of all knowledge.

"Where are my manners?" Hermes said abruptly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "You should all meet my other guests – fascinating people." He led us over to the couches where the other three guests were quietly conversing amongst themselves.

"Coraline, Harriet, Wesley, Grant – this is Carlisle Cullen, his wife Esme, and her brother, Edward. They've been staying with me as my guests for the past week." The oldest one, Carslile, stood to welcome us, speaking for the other two.

"It's very nice to meet you all. Perhaps we can share a few stories while you're here..."

"We'd like that very much." Harriet chimed in.

"Why don't you all have a seat and we can catch up for a while? Unless your business is too urgent..." Hermes pointed us to yet another white sofa.

"No, not at all." I replied. "We've got time."

We talked for a while there in the top floor of the office building. I learned that Carslile and his "family" were sort of like me – they didn't kill humans to feed. Instead, they hunted animals. The thought had never really occurred to me, but I made a mental note to try it out sometime. They were very interesting people – kind, witty, likable. I wished for more time to spend getting to know them, but Theodore was growing impatient, wanting to "get on with business," and we eventually adjourned our conversation and got to the reason we had come to visit.

I explained my situation with Harvey to Hermes and Theodore, and Coraline asked if they could help. Specifically, she asked if Theodore could search for Harvey's life force to see if it was still in existence. That's where we ran into a minor snag.

"Did you bring any samples?" Theodore spoke in a bland, professional tone.

"Samples? What do you mean?" Coraline seemed surprised.

"Samples. Hair, skin, nail clippings... I need something as a base to work from."

"You've never needed 'samples' to find someone before..."
"That is because I knew who I was looking for. The world is a big place – I cannot simply pull his hue out of thin air. Especially since I do not know where I am supposed to be looking. Without a sample, I am afraid there is nothing I can do."

"Wait!" I chimed in. "If my parents' home is still standing... there may be something in there we can use. How...uh, fresh of a sample do you need?"

"The age of the sample is irrelevant. Anything will work. I assume this home is nearby..."

"Not really. It's in Manchester; it would probably take me a few weeks to get there and back." I turned to my vampire family. "I don't want to keep you three here any longer, you can go ahead back – I can work the rest of this out on my own."

"Nonsense!" Hermes blurted out, turning to me. "There's no need for chivalry here, Grant. You can use my new toy to get to England and back. I'll bet if you get started soon you could be back before dawn tomorrow."

Theodore was incredulous. "But sir... we have hardly had the chance to try the device ourselves. Are you certain you feel comfortable sending it along with customers?"

"Of course! They're friends, remember? Go have Reginald prepare it for flight."

"Very well." He conceded, turning his attention to me. "I am sure you understand our need for payment in full before you embark. There will be an additional fee for the usage of the ro-"

"Don't worry about the money," Hermes interjected. "I'm sure you're good for it. We can settle up when you get back. Run along now, Theodore. We don't want to keep our guests waiting." The old wise man turned to us with a smile as his assistant walked briskly back to the elevator. "He needs to lighten up a bit, that one. All business and no time for fun. I'm wearing him down, though. Believe it or not, he's getting better."

I was more than a little interested to find out what sort of transportation I was to be taking. "So, what type of device is this that I'm going to be using?"

"Just a little something I picked up last month. It seems the Germans are experimenting with adding rocket power to their fighting planes. I received a working prototype as payment from a big customer. It's so fast, it'll curl your nose hairs. I like to take it out for a spin now and then just for fun. And boy, is it fun! Wish I could take you on a flight and show it off myself."

"Wait – you can fly it?"

"Are there flying manuals? Of course I can fly it. I tried to get Theodore to try, but he's too chicken."

"So who's going to be flying the plane to England?"

He flashed a crooked grin as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You are."

"Wait – what? I don't have the slightest idea..."

"I'll teach you when Theo gets back. Don't worry, it'll just take a few minutes."

Theodore returned a few moments later, pushing a wheeled cart loaded with books on flying technique. He pushed the cart over to me and placed one hand on my arm, and the other on Hermes' arm. Hermes looked over at me, still smiling subtly. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose..."

He placed his hand on the first book, and a flood of thoughts and memories swept through my mind. It's an impossible feeling to describe. The closest thing I could relate it to would be deja vu – like having deja vu with a blazing frequency for about thirty seconds. When he lifted his hand from the book, I had an archive of memories about rudder positions, takeoff procedures, and a host of other things. He swiftly went through the rest of the books on the cart, and by the time he finished, I had all confidence I could fly absolutely anything with wings (as well as a variety of dirigibles and other bizarre experimental aircraft). Along with my flying instructions, Hermes supplied me with detailed maps of Casablanca and a few suitable fields to land my experimental German plane in (since landing on a British air strip was a bit out of the question). I made my way out to the air strip just as the sun was setting over the sparkling ocean water, and set out for Manchester.

Thanks to some modifications Hermes had made to the plane (trading out every bit of combat equipment for fuel storage space), I had the range to make the entire flight in one portion. I kept low to the ocean surface as I sped along, allowing the repetitive form of the waves exert a calming influence on my psyche. Even in a jet-powered craft, it was a long trip, which gave me ample time to think about things. It had been a long time since the memory of my brother had troubled me, but now it was all I could think of. I went over and over the last time I saw him in my head, thinking out all the possible scenarios that could have played out had I handled things differently. I determined that if he was still living and I was able to locate him, I would handle things the right way next time. I would do what was best for him, no matter what. That is, if he was still living, which was a big 'if.'

I landed in a large open field about forty miles outside of Manchester and traveled back to my childhood home on foot. Much to my relief, the old house was just as I'd left it so many months before. I slipped into Harvey's room, looking for anything useful to bring back with me. After a thorough search, I traveled back to the plane with a hairbrush, a pillowcase and a few undershirts. I stashed them stealthily into my escape craft before heading north to acquire some fuel. Embedded in my unfading memory were the blueprints of several oil refineries in the general area, and I was able to secure the necessary amount of jet fuel without too much trouble. It seemed the Germans weren't the only ones experimenting with jet power.

I returned to Casablanca as quickly as I had left, and arrived back on the landing strip just before sunrise. I was so anxious to find out anything about Harvey that I could hardly restrain myself to an appropriate pace as I made my way back to Hermes' building on foot. I arrived at long last, and was promptly escorted to the top floor with my 'samples.' Hermes and Theodore were working with another 'customer' when I walked into the room, but they finished just moments after I arrived, and it was finally time to know the truth.

Coraline, Wesley and Harriet came over to be there for support as I handed the samples to Theodore. He gave us a disclaimer before beginning.

"I cannot promise you anything. The world is a very large place to have to search, and the human hue range is much more cluttered than that of vampires. I will do my best, but you should be prepared for disappointment."

I felt a sudden rush of weakness in my body as he spoke his last line. I was prepared for the worst, but hoping wildly that I wouldn't have to face it.

He extracted a strand of hair from the comb and held it for a brief moment before handing it back to me. Then he walked over and sat in a large white chair that faced the ocean. We all followed him over (Hermes included) and watched as he sat perfectly still, eyes closed. The expression on his face was completely blank – if I didn't know better, I would think he was sleeping. After about three minutes, he opened his eyes, a frustrated look on his face.

"It is too cloudy," he said with a hint of emotion for the first time. "The human sphere is so blurred by the constant beginning and ending of lives... there is too much space to cover. I cannot find anyone."

I felt the mood of the entire group collectively sink as he delivered his news. Fortunately, Hermes knew the process well enough to hold out hope. "Where are you looking?" He asked.

"Everywhere, of course. The young man could be anywhere."

"Nah, I doubt he got too far with his condition like it was. Try narrowing your search to North Africa. And then search the UK next. If he's still alive, he should be in one of those places."
Theodore's faced returned to it's placid, unemotional state. "Very well. How long must I search?"

"Just a few minutes more, please."

"As you wish." He closed his eyes again and we waited. Two or three minutes later, he spoke, eyes still closed. "I can say with a great degree of certainty that he is no longer living anywhere along the North African coastal region."

My heart sank. It was down to one last search area, and then my hope for a definitive answer would be lost. Theodore closed his eyes one last time and began to search the British isles. This time he took a little longer – five minutes, maybe, before opening his eyes. Harriet and Coraline placed their hands on my shoulders in a gesture of support as Theodore looked up to deliver the news.

"The human you seek is alive." He said as a statement of fact. I was thrilled – Harvey was alive.

Happiness washed over me like liquid sunshine, as a tremendous weight was lifted from me simultaneously. I was so moved, I didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Coraline was in a more rational state of mind.

"Do you know where in the UK he is?"

Theodore answered plainly, "It is a large island. I cannot say for sure."

"Aww, sure you can. Try a little harder," Hermes spoke up. "Is he in London?"

Theodore concentrated for a moment. "No. Somewhere north of there."

"Alright... is he in Liverpool? Manchester?"

"... no, South of Liverpool. Southeast, I think."

"There, see? You've narrowed it down quite a bit. Go have Pauline pull all the military transcripts we've got for central England."

I was finally in a state of mind to speak again. "Not to undermine you, but I've already checked with all the military hospitals in England, and no one had him on record."

"When did you check?" Hermes asked in return.

"About five months ago."

"Well, maybe he wasn't there five months ago. Besides, the Brits have been known to place soldiers in non-military hospitals from time to time. I'll see if I can narrow your search down a bit."

Theodore returned promptly with a wheeled cart full of loose sheets of typed paper. He brought them to Hermes, who placed his hand over them, one stack at a time, until he had absorbed them all. Once he was finished, he turned to me.

"Grant, I'd say there's a very strong likelihood that if your brother is still in a hospital, he's here:" he pointed to a spot on a map of England. "There's a private hospital in Coventry, near Warwick. It's not funded by the government, and probably wouldn't be on record. Now, if he's not in a hospital, you may have a bit more searching to do. He's still listed as 'Missing In Action' by the Army, so he may be living under an alias for some reason. If you can't find him after a month or so, contact me and we'll look and see what else we can do."

"Thank you so much, Hermes... and Theodore. You've given me such a wonderful gift. Seriously, thank you."

"Don't mention it, my young friend. It's always a pleasure to make someone's day."

"How much do I owe you – for the services rendered?"

"Here's my account in Switzerland," He handed me a white card with a number printed on one side. "Whenever you get home, pay me what you can. I'll leave it up to you. How does that sound?"
"Fantastic! Thank you again."

"You're very welcome. I'd ask you to stay a few days longer and relax, but I'm sure you're anxious to get the search on."

"I am. Maybe another time..."

"Yes, maybe another time. Okay, well, you know the way out. Have a great trip!"

Coraline, Wesley and Harriet assured me that they were happy to go with me to England to look for Harvey. We all stowed away on a ship bound for Portsmouth, and before nightfall we were setting out to sea. We arrived in England two days later, and quickly made our way to Coventry, passing by my old house first to grab a few photos of Harvey. We found the hospital without much trouble, and I took the photos in with me to question the nursing staff.

I was the only one brave enough to actually go inside the hospital. Normally any place with a large number of bleeding humans is a bit of a problem for vampires, and I had to concentrate very hard to keep myself out of trouble. I tried the front registrar first, and as expected, they had no record of a Harvey Willoughby. My next step was to show Harvey's photo to as many nurses and doctors as possible. It had been nearly a year since Harvey was injured, and I didn't expect him to still be in a hospital, but I had to try. I probably went through fifteen different medical staff members before one young nurse finally recognized the man in the photograph.

"You know... he does look familiar. When did you say he was injured?"

"Last February. Of course, I doubt he made it here that early. It may have taken him a while to get transferred home."

"I know I've seen his face before. There were a couple of John Doe's that came through here last spring... that would explain why his name wasn't registered here... let me check something." She stepped out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a manila folder. "There were several young men that came to us unidentified. Some couldn't speak, others couldn't remember their names. We didn't know any of them were soldiers. Anyway, your friend isn't here anymore, so either he's off living somewhere else, or if he needed rehabilitation, he may be staying at our facility in Wedmore." She handed me a hand-written note with an address scribbled on it. "This is where the facility is. I'd try looking for him there. I hope you find him..."

I thanked her kindly and went back outside to join my companions and travel to the next (and hopefully final) stop on our journey.

We reached the facility in Wedmore by late afternoon, and this time Coraline mustered up the courage to go in with me. It was a lovely campus – individual white wooden buildings were strewn across the green rolling hills, connected by brick pathways, some of which were covered. After wandering around a bit, we found the administration building and started our questioning there. It didn't take long this time. It seemed they did have a Harvey Willoughby in residence there – building 17a. I informed the attendant at the desk that I was a friend of Harvey's from the war, and that I'd been trying to track him down for a year. She apologized for the mix-up in communicating his location to the Army, and pointed us in the direction of Harvey's unit.

I tried to gather my emotions as Coraline and I walked the brick path to my brother. What would I say to him? How would I explain things? Would I say anything at all? I hadn't actually given much thought to what I would do in this moment. As far as Harvey knew, I was long deceased, and if he had any recollection of our last time together, he thought me to be a ghost or angel. I had almost talked myself out of going in there at all when the decision was made for me. Just as we walked up to the door, a young woman walked out, placing a "do not disturb" sign behind her. She was tall and slender, very cute with straight, nearly black hair that was cropped to her chin. From the looks of her, I would guess her age to be about Harvey's – eighteen or nineteen. She was startled to see us as she turned around, nearly bumping into us before she jumped back.

"Oh! Wow, I didn't see you there. Are you here to see Willis? His door is actually on the other side..."

I answered her question. "No, actually we were looking for Harvey Willoughby. Is this the right place?"

She looked surprised. "Harvey? Yeah, this is the right place. Do you know him?"

"Yes, he and I were... friends of sorts. In the war. I just came to see how he's doing."

"Wow. Sorry, I'm just surprised. He's never had any visitors before. Well, besides me, of course. I'm Lucy, by the way." She extended her warm hand to shake mine and Coraline's. "And you are?"

"Grant. And this is my friend, Coraline."
"Nice to meet you, Grant, Coraline. Harvey's sleeping right now – it was a pretty rough day with the therapy this afternoon. I can go see if I can wake him if you're in a hurry..."

"No, no. That won't be necessary. We can come back another time. So, you said 'therapy,' what kind of condition is he in? I haven't heard anything."

"Well, he's regained most of the strength in his upper body, and he's getting more endurance in general. We were working with the wheelchair today."

"Wheelchair? So he's having trouble walking?"

"He can't feel much of anything from the waist down. They said his convoy was attacked, and his spine was damaged. The doctors say he's actually lucky to be alive – he had a bad infection and fever, he was delirious for a long while. And he went so long without proper medical attention..." I could see the pain in her eyes. She cared about him. "I'm just glad to have him back alive. Underneath it all, he's still Harvey, whether he can walk or not."

"So, Lucy, how do you know Harvey?" Coraline spoke for the first time.

"We were friends in school, and sort of a couple on and off. When I heard what happened to him, I got my father to make a place for him here so he could get the care he needed. It's funny, you know? You never really realize how much someone means to you until you lose them – or think you lost them. He's such a gem, though, Harvey... one of a kind."

"So your father owns this facility?" Coraline continued her questioning.

"No, but he's the primary benefactor for it, so if he wants something done, he usually gets his way. I 'volunteer' here so I can see Harvey more often. It works out pretty well, actually."

"Well, Lucy," I moved to wrap up the conversation. "It's very nice to meet you. We'll try visiting again tomorrow, if you think that would be alright..."

"Sounds great. I'll tell Harvey you're coming."

"No, let's make it a surprise."

"Well, okay. If you'd rather surprise him, I guess I can keep a secret." She winked as she started along the path leading away from the building.

Coraline turned to me with a slightly surprised look as we stood there for a moment outside Harvey's door. "Aren't you going to go in there?"
"No."

"Why not?"
"Because I'm supposed to be dead. And besides, I don't really look like myself anymore. I need to process things... Maybe if I can figure out a way, maybe tomorrow."

"Fair enough." She said as she shrugged her shoulders. "So, where do you want to go from here?"
"I'd like more information about his condition. Maybe I could get something out of the nurses..."

We went back to the administration building, and I was able to smooth-talk my way into several useful bits of information from the nurse on staff there. I learned that Harvey's paralysis was caused by trauma to his lower spine. The nerve bundle had been cut off by swelling after the injury, and the nerves never started firing again. There were no surgical options or realistic cures. He was paralyzed. I also learned that despite his condition, he was almost always in high spirits. The reason for his unusually good mood was, according to the nurse gossip, Lucy. It seems that she had been coming out to visit him absolutely every day for the last few months since he was transferred here, usually bringing him home-cooked pies, chocolate chip cookies, and those sorts of things. Everybody knew that she was head-over-heels for him, and the rumors suggested that he had in mind to marry her once he was able to gain employment again.

The contrast of his situation provided me with quite a dilemma. On the one hand, I knew my brother would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair – unable to live the sort of adventurous lifestyle I knew he dreamed of. I knew I could change that. Even before I went back to talk things over with Coraline and the family, I knew what they would say. And they were right. I could heal him – if I turned him. The vampire venom heals all wounds, and I was certain he would be thrilled with the new abilities he would possess. I could see him climbing mountains with Wesley, playing water tag with the rest of us, enjoying life very much. Of course, he would have the cravings, and without the ability to curb his appetite like I had, it may be very difficult for him to go without killing that first year. I would have to be sure to keep him away from people as much as possible. And then there was the benefit of having my brother back. We could finally get to know each other as adults, and we would have an eternity to live a limitless life together. Yes, the idea of turning him had some serious benefits. On the other hand, though, there was his love for Lucy. Despite circumstances that should keep him perpetually depressed, Harvey was the happiest he'd ever been, and it was all because he was in love with a wonderful young lass. I thought again about the vampire nature, about the monstrosity of it, the isolation. It wasn't natural, it wasn't the way things were supposed to be. I could see Harvey finishing his therapy, finding a job, marrying Lucy, starting a family and growing old with her. It was the way his life was meant to go. Of course, I could change Lucy as well, if I was able to, and they could be together as immortals. That is, if they still wanted to be together. There was no way of knowing whether the transformation and all the dramatic life changes that accompany it would drive them apart. I don't think I could live with myself if that happened. And then, there was the whole problem with turning him myself. None of the four of us had ever even attempted to change someone, and I remember from what Britta told me that it was a very risky and difficult thing to do. If I couldn't stop myself, if I killed him trying to save him... I could never live with that either.

I talked the whole thing over with the family again and again, and still got no further. Wesley told me to change him. Harriet wanted to change both of them and see if they would still stay together. Coraline was on the fence like I was, but I think she leaned slightly in the direction of leaving him human. Maybe it was the opportunity of love that swayed her – she had known the ugly side of vampire romances. And then there was the problem of adding more vampires – newborn vampires – to a coven that had to keep a low profile.

I needed time to think things through, so I went out to the countryside alone to think while the others hunted. Even in the still silence of the night, my thoughts were waging war against each other as I mulled over my options. The problem is, I was faced with two possible scenarios for my brother that I simply could not live with. The thought of him confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life saddened me nearly to tears (if I had the luxury of tears). It wasn't just the paralysis – I knew plenty of people had been able to overcome disabilities to lead a happy life – it was because of who Harvey is. An adventurer. He of all people deserved the chance to have full usage of his extremities, to run and hike and swim and do all the things his heart longed for. I could not reconcile myself with leaving him crippled if I had the power to change it. At the same time, I could not justify turning him into a monster and stealing his future away, his love away, just to heal his legs. It was a no-win situation, one which caused me no shortage of grief and angst as I grappled with it.

I laid in anguish through most of the night, looking at the stars as if they somehow held the hidden answer. And then it came to me – not by the stars, but by the honey-sweet voice of an angel. Coraline found me in the waning hours of moonlight, and came to lay beside me without saying a word. I broke the silence after a long wait.

"I'm so torn... Either way, I'm dooming him to a life that's so much less than he deserves. I just... I just don't know what to do."

"I have an idea..." She said after a lengthy pause, "and I don't know if it's something you would be comfortable with, but I thought I'd run it by you just in case."

"I'm open to anything at this point."

"Okay, well, let me put it this way: if Harvey could have full usage of his legs again, if the paralysis was out of the equation, would it make your decision easier?"

"Of course. I would leave him the way he is. He deserves a chance to live a normal human life."

"That's what I thought. Okay, so my idea is... that maybe you can fix him without changing him."

"How?"

"I was thinking over what the nurse had told you about his back. She said he had minimal usage of his legs, right?"

"Yes. Hardly any at all. Everything from the waist down is almost completely numb. Even with a cane, he hasn't nearly the strength enough to walk."

"But he has some sensation there, right?"

"Yes, technically."

"So what if you could use your ability to heal him?" I thought about her proposal as she continued. "You can make things speed up or slow down, specific things. Like what you did when I first me you. I was thinking, what if you could isolate those damaged nerves and cause them to start sending a full-strength signal again? And then you could influence the blood vessels around them to start flowing again. Maybe if his legs had the input they needed... maybe he could regrow the muscle strength to walk again."

I thought about what she said, cross-referencing it with everything in my medical knowledge. It sounded like a long shot, but it was possible. The thought gave me hope. I talked it out with her for a while, and decided that she was right. I had to try – it was the only solution I could live with.

Coraline and I quickly made our way back over to the medical facility and stopped outside Harvey's door once again.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Grant? We can still try to change him..."

"No, this is definitely what I want. I just hope I can do it."

"I know you can." She said as she stroked my arm reassuringly. "I'll be right outside. If you need anything... I'm here."

"Thank you."

The door was unlocked; I opened it quietly and snuck into Harvey's bedroom. He was fast asleep, snoring softly as he dreamed away the night. I suddenly missed sleep very much, just one more reason why I was sure I was doing the right thing. Harvey deserved the human experience. I brought my ability into focus, scanning through the tissues in his body as I stood next to his bed. Eventually, I landed on the troubled area. I could sense every signal that was fired, every relay along the bundled nerve cords that ran from his brain to the various parts of his body. I knew what I needed to do, but I thought it was best to warn him first. That, and I so desperately wanted to speak to him just one more time. I woke him gently, though he still reacted with a jolt when he saw me in the room.

"G-Grant? Is that you? I must be dreaming..."

"No, you're awake. And it is me, Harvey. I came back to give you a gift."

"That was you – at the ambush? I thought I had gone mad..."

"It was me, Harvey. I'm your guardian angel, remember? Listen, I want to do something for you, but first, I have to ask you an important question."

He was obviously a little confused. "O...okay. What?"

"This girl, Lucy – do you love her?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Very much." I smiled uncontrollably as I looked at the expression on his face. He did love her. I was doing the right thing.

"I'm going to move some things around in your back – to help your legs. It may hurt a little, alright? Listen, I need you to tell me when you start feeling more sensation in your legs."

"Alright..." He said, still a little confused. I couldn't blame him – I would have been confused if I were him.

I isolated the damaged nerves, and began to push and pull on them, trying to boost the signals through the blockage. Nothing.

I took a moment's break and tried again, pushing even harder with my mind. I could see the problem clearly – there was just no room to get the impulses through with the spinal damage around the nerve bundles. If I could only move things around a little... I strained with all my might, desperate to make something happen, and came to a solution by accident. All the pushing and pulling had loosened things up just a little, and to my amazement, I began to start moving things around – literally rearranging the damaged region one cell at a time. It came as a shock to me – I had tried early on in my experimental days to move things around at the cellular level, but was only able to successfully influence processes that were already happening in the cells, not the cells themselves. This was a new sensation altogether – I was actually tearing down and rebuilding the structures I was trying to influence – and it was working. My mind continued to work feverishly on his back, slowly clearing out enough space for his pinched nerve fibers to begin working again. Once there was a little room to work, I shifted my concentration to jump-starting the information flow to his lower body. I sent all my energy into the process, sending the signals through where they hadn't been going before. After a few moments, he moved suddenly.

"There!" he said in hushed amazement. "Whatever you just did, I can feel something in my foot."

"Perfect. Keep telling me."

We worked for forty minutes, trying different strands to find the ones we needed. Some were beyond repair, but with a little tweaking, we were able to push all the necessary signals through the usable nerve fibers. I watched in amazement as the impulses began firing on their own, bringing a wave of new life to his limbs that had been mostly dormant for a year. By the time we were finished, he had full sensation back in his legs, though they were still quite weak. He could remedy that, though. I knew my brother, and there was no amount of work required that would be too much for him. He would recover. He would walk again. I was thrilled.

The two of us talked into the early morning about all sorts of things, but mostly about Lucy. I was so happy for him – he had truly found his soulmate. I knew I had to leave before it got too late and she showed up for her daily visit, so I reluctantly brought our conversation to a close as I prepared to leave.

"Grant?" he spoke as I was walking out the door.

"Yes?"

"Will you come to visit again? I do love getting to talk to you..."

"I'll always be around, Harvey. I'll stop in from time to time if I can. I'm proud of you, little brother. You're a good man."

Coraline was waiting patiently for me as I stepped outside into the cloudy morning. I knew she had heard our conversation; she was smiling. "Did everything go well?"

"Better than I expected. I think he'll make a full recovery."

"And how do you feel about it – about seeing him again?"

"Relieved."

"And maybe a little less guilty?"

"Yeah, I guess that, too. Ready to go home?"

"Sure."

We left England that evening with Wesley and Harriet and headed back to our home in the mountains. It had been a great vacation for so many reasons, but foremost among them was the knowledge that Harvey was alive and well. That alone brought me more joy than words can convey. The guilt, the remorse was gone. Now I was free to live my own happy ending.

15. HOME

HOME. SUCH A SIMPLE WORD FOR SUCH A POWERFUL MEANING. A home is a place you know well, like the back of your hand. It's a place where you can be comfortable. You can wear anything, say anything, be anything when you're at home. It's a place where you're safe; where you can rest and relax and enjoy life with your family.

I began to really think of all these things on the trip back to Malmedy from our visit to see Harvey. Despite a handful of good things about it, our little apartment building was not a home. It was a place where we kept our things, where we hid out from watchful eyes, but it didn't feel like home. I had plenty of time to let this truth sink in once we were back in the confines of the wood and plaster building. There was a note waiting for us on the back porch when we returned - addressed to Coraline. She opened it, and immediately her face sunk. It wasn't hard to guess what it was about.

"So...how mad is he?" Harriet asked timidly.

"He's pretty upset. He wants me to contact him right away." Coraline seemed as if a huge weight had been lowered onto her shoulders.

"So? You just got home. French dip can wait." There was no love lost between Wesley and Philippe.

"Philippe isn't one for hyperbole. If he wants to see me now, he means now. I'll change clothes and head right out to Hamburg." And with that, Coraline was on her way.

The next day, Wes & Harriet went to Paris for some "one-on-one" time, which left me alone in my house-not-a-home. Well, really, it wasn't even a house. Over the two days I spent alone there, I cooked up a plan; a collection of ideas on how we could make this our home. It was a good plan - well, at least I thought so – but I was still a little nervous to present it to Coraline the evening she returned. After all, this was really her coven; who was I to tell her how to run it? I gathered the courage to talk to her about it, and after giving her time to settle back in from her trip, I came into her room to pitch my idea.

"How was the trip? Did we get you in a lot of trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't talk my way out of. Philippe isn't the only one with the power of persuasion."

"Was it really that big a deal? I mean, we were gone, what – four weeks? Surely he can understand that." I'm really beginning to dislike this Philippe character. Maybe Wesley's onto something...

"Philippe... feels like his agenda is more important than anyone else's. He gave me the whole 'I do this and that for you' speech, but in the end he was fine. I'll just have to make it up to him somehow."

"Sorry it had to play out like that."

"It's fine. I can handle him. We all needed a vacation."

"True. Hey, slight change of subject here...have you ever thought about fixing this place up?"

She looked surprised and a little confused. "What – this place? Why?"

"Because we live here. Don't you sometimes wish it were more...homey?"

"Yeah, sometimes. But we're just here for the time being. Remember, we don't officially live here – and we need to keep it that way."

"Listen, I had a couple of ideas – I know they may seem a little bit 'out there,' but at least hear me out and see what you think, okay?"

"Okay. I'm listening. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking about how we're always living this hidden, secret life, and I really don't think we have to do things that way. What if we made a legitimate living, and stayed in this house with everyone's knowledge. It's not like anyone in this small town poses a threat any more than the people we run into in Brussels or Vienna."

"Grant, we're vampires. We aren't supposed to make a legitimate living."

"Says who? Okay, so here's my idea. You know that Switzerland's officially neutral in the war, right?"

"Yeah. So..."

"The Swiss are making lots of money exchanging currencies between the Germans and the other countries in the area."

"Okay..."

"So we're still sitting on a huge stack of money. What if we used it to buy a business – a bank – and we lived on the profit. I mean, think about it – what living expenses do we really have? It would be easy. And I can assure you, we'd be making money by the truckload once things got going."

She thought about it for a moment. I continued.

"So that's one idea. The second one is this – what if we bought this house from the city? It's condemned, but if we payed for it and made a deal to fix it... maybe then we could live in it like it's a home."
"And what are we going to tell the townspeople? That we're a Canadian, an American, an Australian and a Brit and we just decided to come over here and buy a condemned building in the middle of Nazi-controlled Belgium?"

"You speak good German, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So we'll tell them we're Swiss. We made it rich in the banking business, and we're moving out to the country for a simpler life. I think we could make it work."

She stroked her forehead as she thought about the proposal.

"It would be nice to come and go without trying to be so sneaky... and I wouldn't mind if we didn't have to steal any more... Let me think about it for a while, okay?"

"Sure. And Wes and Harriet, too."

"Yeah. We'll see what they think about it."

The next day the lovebirds returned, and much to my delight, they both thought it was a wonderful idea. Well, Harriet thought it was a wonderful idea. Wesley was a little concerned with his ability to pose as a Swiss banker, but he was in favor of it overall. Eventually, Coraline was won over, and we decided to move forward with it. Wesley and I spent two weeks in Zurich looking for the right bank to purchase, and with the girls' 'okay,' we bought out the Die Wasserkammbank (The Watercrest Bank in English). It was a much smaller establishment than the one we had stolen from earlier, but it was profitable, and that's all we really needed. We paid for the transaction in cash, and decided to keep as low a profile in ownership as possible. We retained the entire staff, and set up post office boxes for communication. All in all, it was much easier than I had anticipated. Step one of a legitimate life was complete.

Next on the plan of action was to buy the apartment. This one was a little bit trickier, since we were posing as foreigners, and the Malmedy townspeople were a little hesitant to sell property to any outsiders, even if they were officially neutral in the war. Fortunately, the men on the city council found Coraline to be quite attractive, and with a little sweet talking, she was able to persuade them to accept our offer. We paid three times what the building would have been worth in good condition, and we were contracted to repair the structural damage that had caused it to be condemned in the first place. None of that really bothered us, though. It was just nice to actually own the place.

We developed a cover story for our interactions with the people in town. Wes and I were "Otto and Adler Menz," wealthy bankers from Switzerland. Coraline was "Adelaide," our sister, and Harriet was "Tilda," Wes – I mean, Otto's young wife. Of course, there was a part of me that really didn't like posing as Coraline's brother... I knew she didn't think of me that way, but I was still so attracted to her – it was just strange to try and act like siblings in public. And then, of course if anything ever did work out between us, as unlikely as that may be, what would we tell the people in town? I suppose that fact alone should have convinced me that a romance between us was never meant to be. One could still hope, though.

We were constantly polishing our story, working to make it as plausible as possible. We told everyone that Wesley had a lung condition that necessitated lots of fresh air, so we had decided to pack the family up and relocate someplace remote. Most people didn't ask too many questions – there was something about vampires that made people want to stay away in general – so things worked out fairly well for us. With our cover story in place, all that remained was to transform our dilapidated apartment into a house.

Harriet was in charge of planning the building renovations and decoration – a job that she took absolute delight in. Wesley and I did most of the actual physical work, while Coraline shopped for furniture and worked on landscaping. We decided to keep the separate unit structure intact for the most part, since it worked easier for us that way, but we did make a few changes to the apartment. For one, we totally reworked each of the bathrooms, so we each had our own functional bath and sink. We totally gutted the burned-out unit and converted it into one large living room, complete with the finest modern furniture available. All the floors were re-carpeted (except for the living room, which got hardwood flooring), and all the walls were re-plastered and painted. We replaced all the light fixtures, doors and hardware, windows, stairs... just about everything on the inside of the building was completely new.

On cloudy days we would work on the outside, painting the wooden siding and planting an expansive flower garden. It was near the end of March when we got around to the landscaping, which worked perfectly with our efforts. Coraline had quite an interest in the little flower garden – she had it all strategically planned out so that there was always something in bloom, adding wonderful color to what had just a month ago been a dreadfully bland building.

In the course of time, we met a few of our distant neighbors. One of them was the town's baker, Alberta. She brought us freshly-baked bread loaves on numerous occasions, always hand-delivering them. I suspected her generosity may have had something to do with my cover as a wealthy, single young man. It always seemed such a shame to throw away the baked goods she brought to us, but we really had no need of them, which led to another change in the family that I was proud of.

One afternoon in early August, I was taking a basket of cinnamon rolls into to the woods to throw them out when Harriet came up with a great idea.

"Hey Grant, wait up!" I pulled to a stop in the back yard as my "sister-in-law" came out to meet me. "Are you just gonna throw those away?"

"Well, yeah. That's what I always do with Alberta's stuff. Sorry, did you want to keep them?"

"No, I don't want to eat them, but I was thinking... what if there was someone else in town who would want them – maybe somebody that can't afford to buy some for themselves..."

I paused there for a moment as I considered her idea. It really was a waste to throw food away when there were people in our town that were going hungry. We were making money hand over fist, using it to live an unnecessarily luxurious lifestyle, while many of the humans living right down the street were living as paupers. The wake of the war had left many families unemployed or fatherless. If we had the ability to help them out in some way, how could we in good conscience just ignore their needs?

"You know, Harriet, I think you're onto something."

"I was thinking about Mrs. DeMoss and her children – I see her little girls in front of the bakery all the time, and I know they don't have much money..."

"It's perfect. Why don't we take these over there this afternoon?"

We brought the basket of cinnamon rolls to the young widow, who was infinitely grateful, thanking us again and again. There was something so energizing about doing something to actually help a human, it made me want to find more ways to give.

Over the next few weeks, Harriet and I worked out a plan of philanthropy, finding as many ways as we could to invest in the community. I made an arrangement with Alberta to buy large quantities of baked goods weekly, and we delivered them to needy families in town. Welsey and I volunteered to help rebuild portions of homes that had been damaged during the war, funding the majority of the repairs ourselves. Coraline and Harriet regularly took young mothers and widows out to Brussels to shop for new outfits. Basically, if we saw a need, we filled it as well as we could. It was wonderful.

Our generosity with the locals had earned us a degree of recognition, which we actually embraced for once – we were becoming part of a community. Whenever there was sufficient cloud cover, we made an effort to get outside and enjoy the area. We would take a stroll through town every once in a while, we bought things from the local shops – we even attended the little church there from time to time. It was a slow process, but somehow in the midst of all the changes, the most important one of all happened. Our little apartment became a home. We lived the whole summer out as the "Menz" family, taking leisurely trips to the larger metropolitan cities when we felt like a change of scenery. It was a wonderful breath of fresh air for us all, but I doubt any of us benefited from the new lifestyle as much as Coraline. There was a visible lightening of her mood as the summer months passed by – like she was finally able to appreciate the beauty of life around her. She smiled more, laughed more, joked more. She started playing the piano and the violin again on a regular basis, which, for her, was a major step. Many evenings the other three of us would sit in her room and just listen as she produced the most beautiful sounds you could imagine. We heard everything from Bach to Chopin to Tchaikovsky, and even a few original songs Coraline had composed during the spring and summer. They were happy tunes, full of hope and vibrancy. It was such a wonderful things to see. Without a doubt, the best thing for me that summer was watching Coraline blossom into the person she really was underneath all the weight of responsibility. The two of us spent more and more time together as the weeks passed by; I was really getting to know her well, and everything I learned about her just made me appreciate her more. She was such a fun, smart, caring, genuine person... I couldn't get enough of her.

By the end of August, Coraline and I had become nearly inseparable; the only time we weren't together was when she went to Hamburg for her bi-monthly meetings with Philippe. As silly as it seemed, I actually felt a tinge of loneliness when she was away. I tried to conceal it, of course, but Harriet was a very insightful person when it came to someone's mood. She usually planned a variety of fun activities for the three of us to do together when Coraline was away, most likely to keep me occupied.

On one particular August evening, the activity happened to be a wonderful little board game called Monopoly. Wes had been introduced to it when he and Harriet had vacationed to the United states in July. It was a simple game, yet one which posed so many interesting interpersonal dynamics. I agreed to play it with them without Coraline, though having her missing always threw the delicate balance of power off. If you've ever played Monopoly, you know that there are four basic types of players in every game, no matter who the actual participants are. There's always the swindler – he's the one who devises lopsided trades to gain a monopoly and become the first to start adding houses and hotels. Wesley filled the role to perfection. The second type of player is the sucker. This person always falls for the ridiculously ill-advised trades proposed by the swindler, no matter how ardently the other players try to talk him or her out of it. This role fell, without fail, to Harriet. The third type of player is the hoarder. This person reacts to the result of lopsided trading by refusing all trades completely, no matter how good a deal they may be. The hoarder will never trade anything with anyone. This role was filled by Coraline. And then, there's the balanced one – the one who's willing to try and make fair trades across the table to get an advantage. That would be me. Every time we played, it was the same story. Wesley would get two of one type of property. Harriet would have the third. He offers her a 'great' deal for it. Coraline and I try desperately to talk her out of it. She trades it anyway. Three turns later, she's bankrupt and Wesley has two of just about everything. Coraline has the other one. She decides to hold onto the properties, knowing that Wesley will eventually become impatient and make a lopsided deal with me or her just to get things going. Sometimes he won, sometimes she did. I actually came close once, which was more than you could say for Harriet.

On this particular occasion it was a short-lived game. Without Coraline there, Harriet had too many properties to give away to Wesley. I was just mortgaging my railroads to pay Wesley when I inadvertently started up an enlightening conversation.

"Ugh! I wish Coraline were here."

Harriet smiled wryly. "I'll bet you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." She said with a teasing look.

"What? I just...I just meant – the game... I wish she were here for the game."

"Right. Of course." She played along mockingly. "It's not because you spend every moment of every day together or anything. It's just 'the game.'"

I smiled subconsciously; a byproduct of my embarrassment. "We don't spend that much time together..."
"Yes you do. C'mon, Grant, you like her. It's okay. We all know."

"Well, maybe a little bit."

"A little? Try a whole, whole lot. You're like a sad puppy when she's away. It's not like it's that hard to tell."And here, I thought I was doing a good job at keeping things under cover. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Even I could see it, mate," Wesley added, "it's pretty obvious."

"Ugh! Great. I've gone and made a fool of myself."

"A fool? No, I think it's great." Harriet was finished teasing, she was serious now. "Have you noticed how much more enjoyable she is to be around lately? She has so much more fun than she used to. She's even the one to suggest the games sometimes, which never used to happen. And she's playing music again. Do you know how hard we tried to get her to do that before? She's like a totally different person. We're getting the old Coraline back again."

"Yeah, I noticed, and that's great, but... what does that have to do with me?"

"Wh...everything! Grant, she's only been this way because you've been around. You're like the magic feel-good cure-all for her. Maybe you can't tell because you haven't known her as long as I have, but it's a big difference. It's huge. She totally likes you." Harriet smiled as she delivered the last line. I was trying to make sense of it.

"No... what? Really? You think so?"

She shook her head with an exaggerated motion. "Yup. I know so." Could it be true? Oh please, please let it be true!

"Did – did she say anything?"

"She didn't have to. I can tell. She likes you. A lot. A whole lot. Could you really not tell?"

"No. I mean, she's so nice... I just thought... are you sure?"

"Do you want me to ask her when she gets back?"

Wesley intervened. "Hattie, this isn't grade school. They can handle their own affairs."

"I know, I know. But now I kinda want to ask her, just to see what she'll say."

I wanted her to ask Coraline, to confirm it was true. But then again, I really didn't want it. Things were good between me and Coraline – I was very comfortable with our friendship. If Harriet asked, and like I had previously thought, there was no interest on her part, it could ruin everything. That would be unbearable. The very thought of it made me sick to my stomach and weak all over. I thought of things becoming awkward, of losing her friendship, and it was like a black hole opening up inside me. No, I couldn't have that. It was better not to know.

"Harriet, I'd really rather you didn't say anything to her about me. I don't want to make things awkward."

"Alright! Sheesh! What is it with you boys? It's just a simple question."

"Please, Harriet..."

"My lips are sealed." She said with a symbolic key-turning gesture in front of her mouth. "But my eyes and ears are open." Her devious smile made me nervous. I wasn't sure how long she could hold out before playing matchmaker and potentially demolishing the most meaningful relationship in my life.

By the middle of September, the temperature was beginning to get a little colder, the days were getting shorter, and Coraline was becoming more and more wrapped around my heart. Every moment, every conversation with her was like a drowning man coming up for air – I craved it more than anything imaginable. Harriet had gone nearly a full month without saying a single word to Coraline about any romantic feelings, and things were going excellent. Everything was smooth sailing, so there was hardly any room for me to be more excited when Coraline came to me one evening with a question I'd been wanting to hear for months.

"Hey Grant?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... the next time you go to feed, can I come with you?"

"Sure. Anytime."

"Actually, I was sort of wondering if I could try it your way. Just for once. Just to see what it's like." I was so shocked and delighted that I could hardly respond coherently.

"Um...uh, y-uh, yeah. Yeah! That would be great. Seriously?"

"Seriously. I figure it's at least worth a shot, right? Since we're trying to be civilized and all..."

"That's fantastic. Why don't we go tonight?"

"Tonight? I didn't mean to rush you – I can wait..."

"No, let's go tonight. It's a Tuesday, there's still plenty of time to get to Cologne or Brussels – it's perfect."

"Alright, then. Let me get my shoes on and we can go."

I was so excited, and yet so nervous. I wanted her to like it, for it to be a good experience. I decided Cologne would be the better option given the continual air raid casualties, and we headed there on foot around 11:00 that evening. Things were quiet in town, and we had no trouble at all moving through the empty streets to the large city morgue on the west side of town. I hadn't been to this particular one in several months, so I figured it was okay to have two corpses mysteriously drained of blood. With the overloaded state of the facility, no one was likely to notice. We gained access to the building by picking the lock on the rear entrance (a little skill I picked up along the way to help things go smoother), and I began my usual process of inspecting the bodies, talking her through every step.

"The key is to find a fresh one," I said in a hushed tone. "Freshness makes all the difference. Once they're more than a day or two old, the blood starts going sour, and then it's a real challenge just to choke it down. Of course, most of the ones you find in a place like this are already drained, so when you do find one with blood still in it, it's probably a fresh one. Sorry, I'm rambling. When did you last feed?"

"Um... Thursday, I think."

"Right, Thursday. I knew that. That's good – it'll be easier when you're not too thirsty – you can think of it more as an experiment." Drinking from a cadaver is much more civilized than taking it from a living being. It's a different mental state – a regular, fully conscious, routine behavior – a stark contrast to the instinctual frenzy when hunting. I liked it that way – it helped me feel a little more human.

We kept searching through the corpses until I found a good one for her to start on. It was a rather large female, probably dead less than twenty-four hours. I pulled the body out of its container and placed it on one of the conveniently-located examination tables.

"Usually, I try to make a small, out-of-the-way incision near a large artery. I've found that the upper inside part of the arms work especially well." I pulled up the body's arm and showed her the best locations to bite. "Now, the biggest hurdle is going to be the temperature. It's pretty cold, so just be prepared for that. If you can get past it, though, you'll find that it still tastes just like living blood – only without the guilt trip." I winked. She smiled. This was going very well so far.

I took a small, precise bite right on the artery, and drew just a little bit of blood to show her how I did it. "You may have to suck a little harder than usual, but if you keep a good lock around the opening, you can get a good stream going. Ready to try?"
She winced. "I think so..."

"Just try it – it's not so bad."

She leaned in over the body, placed her mouth on the newly-created wound, and drew in a mouthful of blood. I waited on pins and needles for her first impression. After a brief moment, she came up, with her eyebrows pulled together slightly in an expression of uncertainty.

"That's... really weird."

"But palatable, right?" Please say yes! Give it another try...

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe it takes some getting used to..."

"Definitely. Give it another try. And think warm thoughts..."

She chuckled before lowering her head for another taste. This time, she stayed down a little longer before taking another break. She rolled her tongue around her mouth, as if she were still processing the taste. "Okay, so it does taste like blood, more or less. I guess... I guess it's not so bad. Still, I don't know if I could do this all the time."

"It gets easier. It's all about what you're used to. Once you build this up as your expectation, it's very satisfying."
"Yeah, but it's so proper. Don't you miss the hunt? I mean, it's instinctual. It's what we do."

"I don't really miss it. Of course, there's always some part of me that could go back into that if I let myself, but once you've gone a while without thinking along those lines, it becomes a lot easier to control the urges. I really don't mind it at all. If it means saving innocent lives, I'll gladly take my blood cold and unconventional."

"Well, if you put it that way..." she said with a shrug as she leaned in one more time. This time she stayed until the body was almost totally depleted. I was very proud of her – she was always open to new ideas, and this was one time when I was especially fond of that attribute. We found another one for me to feed off of, and once we were both satiated, we started on our way home.

I turned to her as we walked swiftly through the dimly-lit streets of Cologne.

"So, overall first impression: like it? Hate it? Somewhere in between?"

"Umm... I'd say somewhere in between. Surprisingly, its...actually not that bad."

"I'm proud of you for trying. It means a lot, you know. If you could make a regular habit of it, or even an occasional habit, well, that would mean a lot of lives."

"You should be proud of yourself, Grant. What you do, what you give up... it's not easy. I know you really believe in all of this, and I respect you for that. I mean, I'm not ready to say I'll go off hunting altogether, but if you're willing to let me tag along, I'd be up for trying it again."

"I'd like that very much." It was all music to my ears. Coraline, sweet, pretty, as-close-to-perfect-as-possible Coraline was coming around to the idea of living without killing. I couldn't be happier. I'm sure I was beaming all the way back to Malmedy, and though we talked about all sorts of different things, a portion of my mind was tied up with thoughts about this amazing woman and the life we had together. She was everything I could have ever thought to ask for, and then some. It was just so mind-blowing to think that things had turned around so dramatically. In just a few months, my life had gone from one of hiding and secrecy and being an outsider to one of family, of belonging. One without guilt. One I could be proud of. The smile was radiating from my face to my heart all the way back to the 'house,' as we now called it, and as Coraline and I stepped through the welcoming doorway, it hit me – this was my safe place. This was where I could belong, where I could be comfortable, where my family was. This was what I had been searching for, and it was mine at last.

Home.

16. OCTOBER

OCTOBER HAS THIRTY-ONE DAYS IN IT. SEVEN HUNDRED

forty-four hours. Forty-four thousand six hundred forty minutes. Of those thirty-one days, one in particular stood above the rest. And of that twenty-four hour day, there were approximately forty-one minutes and thirty seconds that I was nearly obsessive over. I was determined to make those forty-one moments memorable. Beautiful. Magical. October 28th was Coraline's birthday, and I had been planning my gift well before the month began. I had every detail worked out, every moment scripted. It was going to be a day when I made her feel like the most wonderful, special, adored person in the entire world. That was the plan, at least. I certainly hoped she would feel that way.

The trouble of planning an extravagant surprise for someone you spend a lot of time with is that... well, you spend a lot of time with them. In my case, I was hard pressed to find an hour where I could slip out unnoticed to work on my plan. There were the trips Coraline made to Hamburg twice a month, and then there were the times when it was my turn to go to Zurich and check up on the business. Wesley and I would take turns making the trip to check for new mail and pick up cash for our 'living' expenses. Occasionally I would sneak in an extra half hour or so on the trip to research and prepare my grand surprise. It was on one of these trips that I received the most interesting letter.

I had fallen into the habit of making my trips on Sundays whenever possible (that is, whenever we didn't need a new stockpile of cash in the house). Of course, the post office was always closed on Sundays, which meant I didn't have to talk to anyone or keep up appearances when I came to collect my mail. Just a simple lock to pick, and I had the whole building to myself. I was usually in and out in two minutes or less, which left me even more 'free' time to sneak in before returning home.

This particular Sunday was no different from the rest; I collected my mail and was back on the path home before sunrise. I sifted through the documents casually as I cleared the city limits and began to head over the mountains, paying little attention to the manager's weekly reports and other repetitive business items. Then something out of place caught my attention. It was an unusually-shaped envelope - very nearly square, and the sloppily-written address on the front was written to "Mr. Grant." My curiosity lit up instantly – there was only one place this could be coming from. I stopped in a small cluster of trees and opened it up, confirming my theory of its origin.

It was about Harvey.

When we had gone to visit him back in the winter, I covertly approached one of the nurses at his rehabilitation clinic and asked her to keep an eye on Harvey for me. I offered her a large sum of money in return for any update on his condition, a transfer to another facility, or any other noteworthy event. To date I hadn't received anything from my informant, so I was more than a little surprised to finally see a letter from her. I unfolded the handwritten note and read it hurriedly:

Mr. Grant,

I'm sorry I didn't update you before, but all my letters kept coming back. Hopefully this one gets through to you.

I received this in the mail and I thought you might be interested in it.

By the way, Harvey has been walking just fine for some time. I haven't seen him here in months.

Sorry again for the delay, -Annette Camfield.

p.s. Just in case you forgot, you can send my payment to:

314 Oak Grove St., Ashton, Sommerset, UK

I closed the letter and reached back into the envelope to see what item my little spy had been referring to. Inside was another, smaller envelope addressed to Annette Camfield; I opened it up and scanned the ornate slip of paper it contained.

Mister & Misses Wentworth Prescott Colston

Request the honor of your presence

at the marriage of their daughter

Lucille May Colston

to

Harvey James Willoughby

Saturday, October Seventh, one o'clock pm

at

St. Charles Cathedral, Topsham, Devon

I was shocked – pleasantly, of course, but shocked nonetheless. My little brother was healed – he could walk 'just fine' – and he was going to be married in less than a week. It was the best news I had heard in a long time. I was so excited to share the discovery that I made the trip back home in record time.

Coraline was the only one home when I returned, which was really okay; she was the one I most wanted to talk to.

"You'll never believe what I got in the mail today..." I began as I stepped through the open doorway into the music room. She turned around on the piano bench to face me, hands in her lap, head cocked in pleasant curiosity.

"What?"

"A wedding invitation." I smiled as I waited for her to try and figure out my big news.

"What? Seriously? Who's getting married?"

"Harvey."

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head a little further, as if she were trying to make sense of what I'd just told her.

"Harvey sent you a wedding invitation?"

"Well, not exactly. I got it indirectly. But that's not the point. Harvey's getting married. My little brother. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, that's wonderful. To Lucy, I assume..."

"Yes, to Lucy. And he's up and walking just fine. Oh, this is just the best start to a day I could possibly have!"

She smiled, shaking her head slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"You. I've never seen you like this before. You're so...hyper."

"I'm so excited. Do you know what this means? It worked! Harvey's healed and he's moving ahead with his life. I'm sure it'll be an amazing wedding, too. Her parents have all kinds of money."

"So, are you going to go? I mean, were you 'officially' invited?"

"I may not be on the guest list, but I'm definitely not going to miss my brother's wedding. I'm sure it'll be a big enough event; no one will notice if I'm on the list or not."

"Well, I can't blame you. I'd probably do the same thing if it were Harriet."

"Come with me."

"What?"

"To the wedding. Come with me."

"I dunno, Grant. I'm busy here with keeping Philippe happy. You know how he got last time I skipped town..."

"We don't have to be gone long – just a week or less. I could use a friend on the trip. Besides, one never goes to a wedding alone. You know that..."

"No, I didn't know that."

"So you just go to weddings by yourself?"

"I've never been to a wedding before."

"Seriously? Never?"

"I never had any friends or family that got married."

"Well then, that settles it. You have to come with me. It'll be fun – we could go a couple of days early and I could show you around my old hometown and take you around the English countryside... We could make a little mini-holiday out of it."
"I guess I could get away for a few days... I don't meet with Philippe again until next Thursday, so... let's do it. When do you want to head out?"

"I dunno, how about we leave tomorrow?"

"Okay. Tomorrow it is."

On Monday evening we said goodbye to Wesley & Harriet and headed west toward the English Channel. We ran the entire way, including the water in the channel, and arrived on the east coast of England before daybreak Tuesday. Coraline had never really been to England other than our brief, very direct trip back in February, so I decided to give her the tour for a change. We spent all day Tuesday in London, taking in the sights and sounds of the nation's capital. Of course, like so many other places, the war had left countless scars on the bustling city. It wasn't exactly the London I had known as a boy, but it was fun nonetheless. Wednesday morning we went shopping downtown for outfits to wear to the wedding before heading north to Manchester. We hitched a ride with an oil trucker who took a special interest in Coraline, and arrived in my hometown late that afternoon. Our first stop was my old house. It still sat empty, but now the majority of the household items were stacked in boxes in each room. Obviously Harvey had been back to go through things. I was mildly concerned that he might return to the house while we were there, but I took the risk and spent the whole afternoon and evening rummaging through the boxes, pulling meaningful things out and telling Coraline about my childhood memories. She took an honest interest in every story, every little detail of my upbringing – she actually wanted to learn more about me. It was such a novel thought – I relished it.

We had planned on visiting the University on Thursday, but the sun kept peeking through the intermittent cloud and smog cover, so we spent the daylight hours inside, playing charades, hide-and-go-seek, checkers...and talking. We talked for hours – it was just so easy. I knew her better than I knew anyone else in the world, and she knew me better than anyone else did. It was addictive – I couldn't get enough.

We snuck into the University Thursday night for a grand tour, and headed on our way to Devon (in the southwest corner of England) so we could have a day to get acquainted with the town before the wedding. We arrived in Topsham a little before dawn, and checked into a room at an inn – just in case the daylight broke through and confined us to the indoors. Fortunately, the heavy clouds formed an opaque cover over the town, and we had all day to walk around and explore.

Topsham was a quaint little town, with narrow winding streets and buildings stacked next to each other in alternating primary colors. We walked through the town for a little while in the morning before heading out to the coast. The countryside in Devon was so refreshing to see after traveling though much of the war-battered areas of England. The rolling green hills extended right to the ocean, with large, rocky outcroppings forming a picturesque border between the two. We spent the remainder of the day walking around the living postcard, taking in the beauty and, of course, talking about everything. After watching the sun set over the water, we retired to the inn for the evening. Another perfect day with Coraline.

In the morning we got dressed and headed out to the wedding. Coraline wore a soft pink silk dress that wrapped around her perfect torso and came to the middle of her shins. The matching hat did little to distract from her glorious red hair which, even in the cloudy daylight, shone like rubies. The slightly dipping neckline formed a perfect frame for a pearl necklace that hung delicately on her perfect neck; adorable high heeled shoes and lace gloves completed the outfit. She was, as always, stunning. I actually felt bad for all the young women that would be at the wedding. They would all look like workhorses next to the thoroughbred stallion that was Coraline. I did my best to keep up with a three-piece gray herringbone suit; It was nice to have a reason to dress up again.

We arrived at the moss-covered stone cathedral a few minutes before one o'clock and settled into a seat near the back. We left our anonymous gift (an original Monet) with an usher and tried to blend in as guests filed in around us. It was, as expected, a very large wedding, with no fewer than three hundred in attendance. Harvey looked as excited as I was that he was getting married, and when Lucy walked through the huge wooden doors into the room, his face was glowing with pride. It was a wonderful thing to see.

After the long, traditional ceremony, we joined the receiving line (despite Coraline's hesitancy) to greet the newlyweds. Harvey did a double-take when he saw me in the line. I just smiled. We came to Lucy first as the line passed by, and for a moment, I was a little concerned. She paused briefly after receiving the traditional words of congratulation from us, tilting her head slightly and narrowing her eyes.

"I know you... Grant, right?" I couldn't believe she remembered my name.

"Uh, yes. Great memory..."

"It's a gift. You're one of Harvey's friends from the war, right?"
"Right. Beautiful wedding. Harvey is a lucky guy. I wish you both the best of luck."

"Thank you very much."

Whew. False alarm. Our cover was still intact.

We moved on to Harvey, who's face was turning a little pale as he shook my hand and I reached around to give him a hug and a pat on the back.

"I... didn't expect to see you here. Are you..." He stammered as he searched for the right words to say. It wasn't an easy task – what do you say to your dead brother at your wedding?

"Angels unaware." I replied with a smile. "I told you I'd be watching over you. I'm proud of you, Harv. You did great. That's a fine wife you've got there."

"Um... thanks. And is this your... h-how does all that work for angels?" He eyed Coraline with curiosity.

"Only friends." Coraline said, reaching out her hand to shake Harvey's. "We're very happy for you, Harvey. You have a wonderful life ahead of you."

"Thanks, both of you. Are you able to stay for the reception? It's at the Colston Estate this evening. I'm sure we can make room for two more at the table..."

I glanced at Coraline. Her expression seemed open, so I went with it. "We'd love to, Harv. See you there." We moved along to unclog the line and asked for directions to the Estate before we set out on foot. It was a long trip to make walking at 'human' speed, so Coraline started up a little small talk.

"I almost feel a little bad for Harvey – marrying into such a wealthy family. Did you see the rock on that girl's finger? He must have spent his entire life's savings on it."

"I didn't really notice it – you're talking about her engagement ring, right?"

"Are you kidding? How could you not notice it? It was huge."

"Leave it to the woman to notice the jewelry. I swear, sometimes I think you ladies go to all that work to look nice for each other, not for the guys."

"See – that's my point. I'm sure all Lucy's rich friends had enormous engagement rings from their equally wealthy fiancee's, and Harvey probably felt pressured to keep up."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was probably my father's life savings that he was spending. After all, he's the only one to inherit the family resources. Maybe, though... maybe he didn't do it out of obligation. Maybe he did it out of love."

"Still, it seems a bit extravagant for someone so young and... well, not wealthy. No offense..."

"You'd be surprised, Coraline. A man will do a lot of things for love. Crazy, extravagant things."

"I'm sure Lucy doesn't mind. Girls do love their pretties." She smiled and winked.

"Okay, so as a spokesperson for the fairer sex, what's the big deal about diamonds? I mean, I know they're shiny and all, but really, it's just glorified coal."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Diamonds and coal – well, technically graphite – are essentially the same element. They're both allotropes of carbon; the only difference is how the structures are put together. It's really quite interesting if you think about it. One structure is universally accepted as the most beautiful natural resource in the world, and lovers give it as a symbol of eternal love. The other structure is ugly, dirty, burned in a furnace and given to naughty children in their stockings. To me, it's just ironic that such a... changeable element would be used for engagement rings. From a chemistry standpoint, I could think of a host of better elements to symbolize the purity and unchanging-ness of true love."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, first of all, you are such a nerd!"

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"It's okay. The whole 'science teacher geek' thing works for you," she said with a wink. "Second, you really don't know much about women, do you? Don't knock the rock. Like I said, we like our pretties."

If there was any doubt that Lucy came from a rich family, it was laid to rest that evening at the wedding reception. The Colston Estate was like a small country in and of itself. Over three hundred acres of rolling green hills just a few miles from the coast, with a house that looked more like a castle sitting atop the highest one. The reception was held in one of the large ballrooms, complete with painted thirty-foot ceilings and priceless tapestries adorning the walls.

The dinner tables were populated by a mixture of tuxedo-clad businessmen and military personnel in uniform. Fortunately, we were seated next to an elderly couple who knew very little about the details of the war, and Coraline and I were able to keep up our cover without much effort. After we choked down a completely unappealing filet mignon and a glass of port wine, we got up and enjoyed a few minutes on the dance floor. I hadn't danced with Coraline since that rooftop concert in Vienna so long ago; I had forgotten how nice it was. We waltzed, and even tried our hands at the foxtrot before ending the evening with a slow dance. I held her close as we swayed gently together, her hands around my neck. It was a wonderful thing, feeling her next to me – there was an electricity to it, yet... something so comforting, like a soft pillow. Eventually she pulled in a little closer, resting her head against my chest.

"It's nice to believe in love for once. Even if it is just for a moment," she spoke wistfully. "They seem so happy, just perfect for each other. Do you think there's any chance they'll stay that way?"

"There's always a chance," I said, more to myself than to her. There's always a chance. I thought about her words at the reception as we danced together. 'Only friends.' Is that all there is between us? On most days I would believe it without hesitation, but at times like these I really wondered... no, suspected that there could be something more. There had to be something more. She was the perfect match for me in every way. We brought out the best in each other, like we were more together than we could ever be as individuals. It was just too 'right' not to be fate. My thoughts spun around in my head, hope and reason dancing with each other like a tango, both sides firm and unyielding. There was only one conclusion, one that came swelling to a monumental crescendo in my mind as the weight of the truth hit me all at once.

I was in love with Coraline. Truly, deeply, undeniably in love. I resolved at that moment that I would tell her when the time was right – when the occasion was suited for it – and I knew just the right situation. It would be the crown jewel of my forty-one minutes. I smiled uncontrollably as I played out the scene in my head. This would be a birthday that she would never forget.

Once we got back to Malmedy, everything in my world began to center around Coraline's birthday and those forty-one minutes. I took every chance I could get to put things together, taking extra care not to raise anyone's suspicions – I really wanted it to be a surprise. One of the most challenging parts to the whole plan was getting the flowers right. Coraline loved flowers, and her favorites by far were Gerberas. I decided back in the spring to try and grow some for her, so I planted a large flower patch out in the woods a few miles from the house and tried to get them to grow. The problem is, it was just too cold in the mountains to sustain the flowers, even in the summer, so I researched greenhouses and slowly built my own around them. I snuck out to tend to them as often as possible, and I had them calculated to bloom just in time for the big day. They kept me in suspense until the 26h, when the bright pink, orange and yellow blooms finally arrived. They were the last piece – all I had to do was wait until the 28th..

My plan unfolded perfectly as the morning gave way to afternoon on October 28th. I made up a phoney reason why I needed to go to Zurich to check on things, and slipped out in the late afternoon to get things ready. Timing was everything. The sun was setting at 5:21 pm, and since that was a critical part of the evening, I made sure to leave myself plenty of time to get into place. I got the present ready and headed over to the greenhouse to pick up the flowers. They looked perfect, just the right thing for a perfect night with a perfect girl. I cut enough for a large bouquet and arranged them the best I could, tying them with a pink silk ribbon. Once the flowers were just right I took a deep breath and readied myself for the evening. You can do this, Grant. It's just three simple words. You mean them. You can do this.

I walked back to the house, flowers in hand, and arrived at 4:40 – right on time. I noticed something different as I walked through the front door. A smell. It smelled like... flowers. Not my flowers, of course, something different. I walked up the stairs and knocked on Coraline's door. After no answer, I slowly opened it and saw where the smell was coming from. Her entire room was covered in red roses. Every table top, every shelf, every inch of floor space was occupied. The smell was so strong it was oppressive. Figures, I thought to myself. Leave it to Harriet to pull out all the stops for a gift.

My little bouquet of flowers seemed insignificant in light of the multitude of roses. I was undeterred, though. I had a plan, I was sticking to it. I searched the rest of Coraline's side of the house with no luck, and after checking the yard, I popped into Wes and Harriet's room to see if they knew where she was. I only had so much time, after all.

Harriet was in the room sketching something on a pad of paper as I stepped in. "Hey Harriet, do you know where Coraline is? I checked her room..."

She looked up and saw me there with the flowers, and her expression dropped.

"Oh..." she said as her eyebrows pulled in to form a distinctively sad look. It was not a good "oh." It was the "Oh, you poor thing" "oh." It was the "Oh, I feel so sorry for you" "oh."

Not good.

She continued. "Oh, Grant... Those are for her, aren't they? For her birthday?"

"Well, they were..." Great. What's going on?

"She's gone out for her birthday. With Philippe."You've got to be kidding me. Tell me this is not happening.

"Philippe?"

"He came by about twenty minutes ago to surprise her for her birthday – you just missed her. He brought a whole change of clothes for her - fancy clothes. She didn't say where they were going or when they'd be back. Oh, you poor thing! Did you pick those just for her?"

"I grew them for her."

"Oh, Grant... that's awful. I mean, that's totally sweet, it's just awful that... well, you know what I mean."

She looked as if she could cry. I felt as though I could. An irrepressible dejection came over me. My whole plan was ruined. She was out with another man, doing God knows what with his infinite resources while I stood here with my one bouquet.

"I'm.... gonna go out for a while. I'll be back later." I had to go somewhere I could think. I had to get control of this plane-crash scene that kept playing in my head. I went out to the woods and climbed one of the taller trees a quarter-mile behind the house, settling in there while the sun began to set. Dejection turned to depression as I waited for her to return.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, in the early morning hours of October 31, a lone car came cruising down the dirt road to the house. It was a magnificent machine, a 1931 Bentley 8 litre, the last of the great cars from the manufacturer. The moonlight shimmered off the glassy black paint as the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of the house. I watched painfully as a well-dressed vampire stepped out of the driver's seat and walked around to let his passenger out. The man, who must have been Philippe, walked her to the door, his hand holding hers in support. He took that hand, that perfect, smooth, delicate hand, and kissed it as he said goodbye. I didn't listen to what they said as they parted. I didn't want to know. It was sickening. The vampire went back to his car and drove off as Coraline stepped inside.

I stayed at my perch atop the tree until morning, thinking about what had just happened the past three days. It had totally taken me by surprise, and though I didn't want to read too much into it, I couldn't help but wonder what her feelings were for Philippe. Have they changed? Is she attracted to him? Or did she spend time with him out of obligation? Either way, the result had been the same. My extravagant plan had been foiled. I looked at the wilting flowers, still in my hand, and let out an audible sigh. "So much for the perfect evening," I said to myself as I tossed the bouquet into the woods and climbed down from the tree.

When I got back to the house, everything was back to normal. Wesley was throwing darts in the living room. Harriet was redecorating her spare room. Coraline was in her music room. It was as if nothing unusual had happened. I tried to act that way as well, but I just couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about the last three days. Consequently, I tried to avoid the others for a while. I grabbed a book and started reading, hoping the story would pull me in, but I couldn't let my mind go there.

After about an hour of unsuccessful distraction, Wesley came in and asked if I would accompany him to Cologne to pick up some furniture that Harriet had picked out a week earlier for the spare room. I agreed, glad to have somewhere else to go. We made the trip on foot, taking our time to keep from raising any of the townspeople's suspicions. What little talking we did on the trip was far removed from the thoughts that weighed down my mind, and for a while I had relief. We returned around dusk with the furniture in hand – two beige leather chairs and a matching loveseat. After helping to arrange the new pieces as Harriet wanted them, I went to take a long bath and then tried reading again. This time I had a little success, and I was just beginning to really forget about things when Coraline knocked on my door.

"Hey," she said casually as she entered. "I haven't seen you all day. Must be a good book..."

"Yeah, it's good. Dumas." I put the book down and tried to converse naturally. "So, how was your trip? Was it a good birthday?"

"It was... really nice. Philippe just showed up unannounced and told me he had a surprise for me. Sorry we had to rush out so fast – I wanted to say goodbye, but we had a boat to catch."

"A boat?"

"Yeah, so apparently Philippe owns a really nice cruise ship. We ported out of Antwerp and sailed it up around the arctic circle and then back down to London for an evening."

"Wow. That's impressive. Did you have fun?"

"Sure, it was fun. He had private entertainment on the ship – a full orchestra, ballet, opera, the works. They performed some really great stuff. Turandot, Swan Lake, Beethoven's 9th. And of course, dinner at Buckingham Palace was pretty special."

"You had dinner... at Buckingham Palace?"

"Well, technically it wasn't really dinner, but yes. I guess Philippe's on good terms with the Queen." Good lord! Is there anything this guy doesn't have? How am I supposed to compete with that?

"Well, I'm glad you had a good birthday. That's great."

"Yeah. So listen, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something..."

"Sure." What kind of 'something?' Something good, I hope...

"I thought maybe we could go somewhere else to talk."

"Okay. Lead the way." This must either be really good or really bad. Please don't be really bad...

We left the house and walked through the woods a bit to a rock outcropping that overlooked the town. She turned to me, standing a little closer than usual, and began talking.

"Grant, listen..." She hesitated, searching for the right words to use. "I like you – you're smart, fun, you're a great listener... you're really easy to spend time with, and I love that. I like being around you. The thing is..." She sighed, looking down and stroking her forehead with her fingers. "How do I say this? Um... I... don't want to give you the wrong impression. You are a wonderful guy, and I love being your friend, but that's all I can give you, Grant. Friendship. I'm sorry, I wish it could be different, but..." She hesitated again. My heart melted.

This was the bad type of conversation.

"I know I do things sometimes that might send the wrong signals, and I know – you're a guy, I'm a girl, things can get confusing. Look, the point is... I really... cherish your friendship, Grant. So much... more than you know, and more than anything, I don't want to lose that. I don't want things to be weird between us."

She was having a hard time saying all these things – it must have been awkward for her. I was having a hard time receiving them. She took my hands in hers and looked into my eyes, freezing time and space and everything else in existence as she spoke once more. "Grant, I really mean it – you are the best friend I've ever had, outside of Harriet, who's basically my sister. I think the world of you, I hope you know that..."

"I do," I struggled to reply, trying to keep my emotions from coloring my tone.

"Are we okay then?"

"Yeah. We're okay. Thanks for being honest." She was okay. I was not.

"Thanks for understanding. Harriet and Wesley wanted to play cards tonight; do you want to head back over there?"

"Actually, I really wanted to finish that book first." I lied. "Would you mind if I jumped in a little later?"

"Sure. No problem."

We walked back to the house and I settled into the large chair in my room, my book in hand. I opened it back to the section where I had been reading and just stared blankly at the words. My mind was somewhere else. Just friends. So that was really all there was after all. Maybe the time with Philippe changed her mind... Who wouldn't want to be with someone as powerful and influential as him? Or then, maybe there just never was that attraction to me. It could be. Ugh – why do I have to care so much? I really don't know how I can be 'just friends' with her when I love her so much... I guess it's better than nothing...

I stared at the page for an hour thinking about things before the clock in the living room chimed. It was midnight – November first. Just one month ago, things had looked so different. And now... now I was in a real bind. I had to find a way to be friends with the woman I was desperately in love with. I closed the book and laid it on the floor, taking a deep breath.

"Well, here goes nothing," I said to myself under my breath as I stood and walked downstairs to join the game.

17. FIGHTING

A REALLY GOOD FRIENDSHIP SHOULD BE EASY. NOT IN THE effortless sort of way – any relationship that's worthwhile takes effort – but in the comfortable sort of way. Friendship is based in part on honesty and transparency. Those were the qualities that I struggled with as the winter of 1944 began to set in. Life was still good overall. Business in Zurich was better than ever, my days were filled with fun and meaningful things, and Coraline and I still got to spend plenty of time together. The problem was entirely mine – I just couldn't get my mind off of the 'friend' factor. It's not that I didn't enjoy my time with her – on the contrary, I relished every moment more and more as the days and weeks passed – but there was always a hidden part of my heart that longed for more than a platonic friendship. For the moment, though, 'just friends' was all I had, so I took it. The inhibition was tolerable, at least most of the time. The hard part was when she went to Hamburg to meet with Philippe. My mind was preoccupied the entire time with thoughts of what might be going on between them.

As she had been before, Harriet was aware of the change whenever Coraline was gone, and after a while it began to get to her, so much so that she confronted me about it one November afternoon. Coraline was in Hamburg with Philippe, and Wesley was in Zurich tending to business, so it was just the two of us in the house. Before Wesley had been gone two minutes she stormed into my room, her verbal guns blazing.

"What is wrong with you?" She didn't waste any time with pleasantries.

"What are you talking about?"

"Coraline. What happened to you? Don't you still like her?"

"Of course I do! Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're totally giving up on her." Obviously Coraline hadn't told Harriet about our 'defining the relationship' conversation,

"Harriet, she's not interested. She doesn't like me that way. She told me herself – all I'll ever be is a friend to her. Nothing more."

"What? That's a load of...well, you know what it's a load of!"

"Seriously, Harriet. She told me-"

"I know what she told you. Mixed signals, don't want you to misunderstand, you're a nice guy, but..." Obviously Coraline had told her about the conversation.

"What's your point?"

"It's a load, Grant. A big load... of...poo. It's a load of stinky poo, and you're totally buying it. She likes you. A lot. Trust me, I can tell."

"Then why the hell is she pushing me away?" I half shouted. The conversation was getting heated. All my frustration was getting misplaced. She was taken back slightly. I apologized.

"Sorry, Harriet. I didn't mean to take it out on you. It's just... "

"It's okay. I understand. But you don't understand. There's more going on here than just you. I don't know the whole story, but I do know this – she likes you. You're not just 'friend' material in her mind. Whatever it is, you can't just give up. You have to fight for her. She needs you, Grant. She's meant for you."

"Harriet, I... I can't. She made herself very clear about what she wants..."

"She doesn't even know what she wants. Please, Grant. Please don't give up on her. Not yet."

I took what Harriet said to heart and chewed on it for a couple of days. I so badly wanted her to be right, but at the same time, I was afraid that any such effort on my part would do irreversible damage to my friendship with Coraline. The opposing forces waged war inside me for several days, but in the end, there was only one option I could live with. I had to fight for her. I had to step out and take a chance, as much as it went against my nature. I couldn't give up, not before I'd tried everything I could.

As a byproduct of Harriet's pep talk and my new resolution to fight, I began to pick back up plans to redo my birthday present for Coraline. Everything was, after all, still in place and ready to go. There was no real reason not to try.

I walked into Coraline's room late one Wednesday afternoon and presented my idea.

"You know," I began casually, "I never did give you your birthday present."

She smiled. "You got me a birthday present?"

"Well, sort of. I was going to surprise you with it on your birthday, but Philippe beat me to the punch."

"Sorry about that..."

"That's okay. So, do you want to know what it is?"

"Sure!" She was excited. This was a good start.

"Great. Okay, well, it's not here – it's actually out in the forest. I'll take you to it whenever you're ready to go. Just don't wait too long, 'cause it's slightly time-sensitive."

"Can we go now?"

"Um... it's a little early, but, sure. We can go now."

She put on her shoes and a winter jacket and we left the house, making sure to be sneaky about it, since the cloud cover was thin and intermittent. We traveled through the woods for about twenty miles, and finally reached my base of operations. It was a long narrow patch of dirt that had been meticulously cleared out, leaving a canopy of tree cover overhead. I had cleared several hundred yards, just long enough to make a good runway. She didn't figure things out right away.
"Umm.... what is it?"

I smiled. "Maybe this will help." I walked over to the south side of the runway and pulled the camouflaged cover off of the big surprise. It was a German fighter plane, a Messerschmidt BF 109.

Her eyes widened, slightly confused. "You bought me a plane?"

"No, the plane isn't your gift. The plane ride is."

"Oh, okay. It sounds like fun." She was being nice. I could tell. She didn't get the full point of the ride yet.

Since we were a few minutes ahead of schedule, I took a while to show her around the plane. I had made a few modifications to it; foremost among them was removing the weaponry and adding a second seat. The other modification was still a surprise. When the time was right, we climbed into the cockpit and started the machine up. I took off from my hidden runway, using the full length of the clearing to build up enough speed to get off the ground. Once we were airborne, I decided to show off a bit. I took the plane through a few loops and barrel rolls, all while heading for the coast, which took a bit of creative navigation, given the regularity of bombing raids in the region. Coraline laughed and smiled the whole time – it was her first plane ride, and I gave her one to remember.

After a bit of showmanship, I took the plane on a strong ascent, and the ocean came into view. I angled the vehicle a little so we could watch as the sun set over the ocean, which seemed to go on forever from our altitude. It was a beautiful sight, one of the better sunsets I had ever witnessed. Coraline was really enjoying herself.

"Oh, Grant, this is wonderful. Such a pretty sunset. Thank you so much."

"Just wait. You haven't seen the best part yet," I responded with a big smile. Once the sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon, I turned back to show her my biggest surprise. "There's one other modification I made to the plane, one just for you."

"What is it?" She asked with slightly giddy anticipation.

I reached around her and pulled a lever behind her seat. The seatback reclined as a device lowered over it.

"You remember when we were on top of the mountain back in January?" I asked her.

"Yeah, I remember..."

"We could see the stars so well – you said you wished you had thought to bring your telescope."

"Uh-huh..."

"Well, in about two minutes, we'll be above the elevation we climbed to on the mountain, and this..." I pulled the device around into position. "This is a telescope. I developed a special mounting unit to keep it as still as possible. Of course, you have to look through the canopy, but I know how much you like looking at the stars, and this was as close as I could bring you to that time on the mountain."

"Grant... I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything. Just watch and enjoy. I have enough fuel to give you about forty minutes up here before we have to descend and head back. Sorry it couldn't be longer, but-"

"No, it's great. It's... amazing. Thank you so much. You are so thoughtful."

"You're welcome. Happy belated birthday."

She didn't say much during that forty-one minute span, other than the occasional "wow, I can see Jupiter so clearly from here," or something to that effect. I actually thought momentarily about the declaration I was originally planning on making from up here – telling her how desperately in love with her I was – and decided now wasn't the best time. That, and I was nervous. And afraid. The evening was fantastic without throwing anything else into the mix. I was just happy to see her happy. Once the fuel gauge dictated it, we turned around and headed back to Belgium, landing the plane back in the makeshift clearing where we had taken off. As soon as we were out of the plane, she gave me a big, long hug.

"Thank you so much, Grant. That was wonderful. You are the sweetest, greatest guy in the entire world. What would I do without you?"

I thought again about Harriet's speech as Coraline's arms lingered wrapped around me for a little longer than was necessary. Maybe I did still have a chance...

The next three weeks were a change for me; a renaissance of sorts, as I started to fight for Coraline's heart. It wasn't the roses and chocolates sort of wooing, it was the more subtle kind. We talked more. We shared more. We did more together. I pushed the thoughts of Philippe as far to the back of my mind as possible and just treasured her, soaking in every moment like a flower soaks in the morning sun. In no time things were back to the way they had been before October – even better in some ways. My only purpose in life was to be there for her, to be the one she could rely on, confide in, laugh with. I wanted to show her how much I loved her before I tried to tell her. And I did try, but somehow, the timing just never worked out. The words, which flowed with such eloquence in my head, seemed trapped at the gateway of my mouth, and no matter how many times I rehearsed them, they just refused to come out. So, for nearly a month, I was forced to be content with demonstrating my feelings in nonverbal ways. This, of course, pleased Harriet to no end. At times I wasn't sure who was happier I was back in the game, Coraline or her. She nearly goofed things up several times by intentionally leaving me and Coraline alone together so we could have 'the talk,' as she called it. There's not much in the world of relationships more awkward than an obvious setup. Eventually, I realized that the problem I was having was that I was trying too hard. I am a planner by nature, and I was trying so hard to plan things out, that when they didn't go according to that plan, I was lost. So, after twenty-three days of 'trying,' I decided to just relax and let things happen naturally. After all, if it really was meant to be, then I had nothing to worry about.

Things were looking hopeful again, and even when she went to Hamburg, I kept my chin up. I wasn't going to give up. I was fighting for her. Coraline and I had fallen into the habit of going out of the house on long walks together when the weather permitted, and by the middle of December, it had become most every day. On one such cloudy evening, she came into my room to ask if I wanted to go on a longer walk than usual.

"I have someplace I want to show you. Someplace special..." She said with a hint of a smile on her beautiful mouth. How could I resist?

"Sure. Do you want to go now?"

"Yep. If you're ready..."

"I'm always ready."

Wesley was out tending to business of some kind, so we told Harriet we were going out for a while before disappearing into the woods. I followed close behind her as she led me through a winding path that took us several miles southeast of the house. After a rather long walk – and it was a walk, not a run – we came upon a little clearing in the dense tree cover. There was a small hill in the middle of the clearing, and near the crest of the hill stood a gigantic tree. Judging by the extraordinarily wide trunk, it must have been over a hundred years old. It was well past the leaf-bearing season for this part of the country, but a few brown stragglers still clung to the countless branches, swaying in the gentle breeze. It was a strange place, so picturesque I felt like I was walking into an oil painting. There was something oddly calming about the ancient tree, standing all alone on the little mound of earth. Surely this was the place she spoke of.

Coraline took a few steps forward and turned around to face me. "So, what do you think?"
"It's beautiful."

She came back and took my hand in hers, so soft and warm, and generally perfect. "Come sit under it with me for a while."

We walked over and had a seat on the nearly-frozen ground underneath the tree, looking out on seemingly endless rows of rolling hills. The view was serene. Relaxing. We sat shoulder to shoulder and enjoyed the scenery for a while.

"I used to come here a lot, mostly during the day, but sometimes at night, too. It was my place to think, to get away."

"You certainly picked a good one."

"Yeah, I guess I did," she continued. "Back when that whole mess with Rodney was going on – and after it – I came here to sort through things. There was always something about the quiet that helped me think. I would sit here for hours and just listen to the wind move the trees. It's almost hypnotic."

We sat in silence for a few minutes to listen, and I must admit, it was nice. As much as I loved talking to Coraline, she was also the one person in the world that I could say absolutely nothing around and still be comfortable. Of course, on this occasion, the majority of the silence in my head was filled with words – things I wanted to say to her, but just couldn't bring myself to verbalize. She broke the silence after a while, continuing the conversation we'd been having earlier.

"I didn't come out here for a long time during the spring and summer," she began, "but lately I've been spending a lot more time under my tree."

"Really? Why's that?"

"I've just had so much to think about. Do you ever..." she paused and sighed gently. "Do you ever wish that you could just take a break from everything, just for a day or two? You know, no problems, no responsibilities, no past or future or consequences, just living? Sometimes I wish I could just escape for a day, you know?"

"I wish I could go back to being a child. Life was so much simpler then..."

"Exactly! Life was easy. Everything made sense. And then, somewhere along the way, everything just gets totally mixed up, and suddenly you realize you don't know how to untangle it." She dropped her head and rested it atop her knees in her folded arms as she let out a longer, more deliberate sigh. "I just feel trapped sometimes."

"How so?"

"It's everything. You, Wesley and Harriet, Philippe, the whole secrecy thing... sometimes I just don't know if I can hold it together any longer."

My mind started spinning through possible scenarios as a gentle drizzle began to fall over the tree. Is Philippe pushing her for something? Is the 'normal' life too much work to keep up? Maybe Harriet or Wesley is getting tired of staying around town...

"Is there anything in particular that's making life hard on you? Maybe I could help..."

"No, it's... ugh, it's complicated. I don't know... I don't even know why I'm talking to you about it..."

"Because I'll listen." I placed my hand on her back, stroking it gently. She turned her head to look at me.

"I know. You always listen. Don't you ever get tired of hearing me complain about things?"

"No. I could listen to it all day." I smiled.

"You know, you really are special. Did you know that? I've met so many people, and you... are so special. I wish you'd give yourself more credit."
"What do you mean?"

"You're too hard on yourself, Grant. I can tell what you think of yourself, and believe me, you are so much more than you think. You're nice – not to get something out of it, not to butter someone up – just because that's who you are. And you're patient. God, you're patient. I don't know how you do it. And you're smart, and thoughtful. You come up with the greatest ideas, and sometimes you're even a little goofy, which I absolutely love. You are ten times the man Philippe is." She paused a moment, biting her lip and looking back down. "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice..."

I suddenly felt a little embarrassed. It had been so long since Coraline had talked about getting a read on somebody that I had forgotten how perceptive she really was. All those times when I was going around feeling like a nobody compared to Philippe... she must have seen it so clearly. And yet, more than the embarrassment, I felt a tremendous amount of happiness, a righteous pride – she really did think a lot of me. I didn't have to be a reader to pick up on that.

We sat in silence again for a few moments as the drizzle picked up to a sprinkle. The tiny droplets made the most relaxing sound imaginable as they struck the world around us in waves. The wind picked up slightly, blowing through Coraline's beautiful red hair and sending her intoxicating aroma through the air. I would have been content to sit there with her for days on end, but there was more talking to be done. All the pent up emotions of the past six weeks were coming to a boil just below the surface, threatening to erupt like a volcano. I had held my peace long enough – it was time for the truth to come out. I gathered up my emotional strength, and gave wings to the words that had been crawling inside my head for months.

"If all that's true, then... why are we still just friends?"

She said nothing, sitting perfectly still. I continued.

"Surely you must know how I feel about you..."

"I know," she said in an almost regretful tone, "and I wish.... so much that things could be different, but they can't. They just can't."

"Why not?" The intensity of the discussion was building up in concert with the rain, which now swelled to a steady pace. We began to get wet as we sat there, but there was no stopping now. She turned to look at me again, this time just a little agitated.

"Do you think I haven't tried to make this work? I have bent over backwards trying to keep this family together, to keep Harriet safe... I have sacrificed so much, you don't even know. I'm just tired, Grant. I'm so tired of being the strong one. I'm tired of being disciplined..."

"Then stop!" I half yelled, my tone increasing to match hers. I had to pause for a moment, this wasn't where I wanted things to go. I intentionally brought the volume down a few levels before I continued. "Stop being the big sister. Stop trying to hold everyone together. Do what you want to do."

"I can't do that, Grant," she said, looking away and shaking her head. "I can't."

"Why?" I countered. "Is it because you're just not attracted to me?"

"No..."

"Is it because of Philippe? Are you in love with him?"

"No! Are you kidding? No..."

"Is it because you're afraid he'll turn on you – turn Harriet in?"

She said nothing. I hit the nail on the head. It was Philippe. "We can find another way, Coraline. You and me, together – we can think of something. You don't have to live with him over your shoulder."

"I can't... I can't risk it."

"Well you know what I can't do?" I said, raising my voice slightly to talk over the sound of the rain, which was now coming down in a torrent. "I can't keep pretending to just like you. I can't spend another night alone thinking of how that wretch is trying to woo you, how he treats you like you're some petty prize, when you're the most wonderful, intelligent, genuine, beautiful-inside-and-out woman on the face of the earth. I can't go another day fighting with my hand to keep it from holding yours because I'm afraid of losing you. I can't walk around town pretending to be your brother, watching all the men look at you with awestruck eyes that I'm not allowed to have." I reached my hand over and placed it on her chin, gently turning her face to mine. "Coraline, I can't keep pretending. You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. You're all I think about, all I care about. I love you."

"Grant..." She stared deeply into my eyes, as her inward struggle played out on her face like a sweeping drama. This was unplanned. Unscripted. This was real. I looked into her longing eyes, so beautiful, so perfect, and did the next thing that came naturally to me. Slowly, ever so slowly, I leaned in to her as the rain came thundering down around us, so close that I could see nothing else but her, so close that I could taste her sweet breath, pulsing faster and faster in the night air. I was drawn in with inescapable force, as if the weight of the entire world were pulling me to her, and in one sweet moment, heaven and earth and time and thought and reason stopped, and they all faded to brilliant white.

And I kissed her.

It was beautiful. My lips caressed hers so sweetly, so gently, like a rose petal floating to the ground. Floating – that was the best way to describe it – it was like I was floating in the air, suspended by a thousand butterfly wings, hanging in a little pocket between night and day, between waking and sleeping, between time and space. I held her delicate upper lip between mine, sliding across its delightful softness ever so slightly. The moment was so poetic; it seemed to last forever, like the grand fermata at the end of a virtuoso concerto. And then, right at the very apex, just when I thought she was completely indifferent to the gesture, she kissed back. In an instant, I went from the comfort of a warm bath to the energy of raw lightning, surging through my every cell. It was not just a kiss, it was the kiss to end all kisses. It was the kiss by which all others should be measured. I had never actually kissed a woman before, but I was sure in that moment that kissing was the sole reason that lips were created. She grabbed my shirt, pulling me in closer to her as our mouths remained deliciously interlocked. I pushed her now-wet hair out of the way as I cupped her head in my hands, caressing her gently. I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm quite certain that the world stopped spinning for a moment at the force of our passion. The stars all turned to see what could be the cause of so much pure energy. The feelings that had been suppressed for so long in each of us came rushing out like water from broken dams, churning and swirling as they met each other in a furious dance of emotions. In that moment, all the confusion was lifted. All the complications, the doubts, the worries – they all dissolved into the background. There was nothing in the world but the two of us. In that moment, life was brilliantly simple. I loved her. She loved me. There was nothing beyond that, nothing that even registered on my horizon. It was perfect.

We remained locked together for some time – I have no idea how long – and when we finally released our hold, we were both at a loss for words. I stared into her lovestruck eyes for an eternity, just soaking in the feelings I had waited so long to feel. The rain, which was still falling with intensity, had begun to freeze over, forming a cover of ice on the world as if it were coated in glass. It didn't matter. We sat there, unmoving in the rain, as ice crystals began to form on us. The silence was so beautiful, I was actually hesitant to breach it, so I just admired her and waited for her to speak.

Eventually, she made the first move, drawing in a breath of air, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, something unexpected happened. We heard a sound, echoing through the quiet mountains, something out of place on a night like this. It sounded like... cannon fire. We both turned our heads in the direction of the noise and listened more carefully. Another blast – definitely cannon fire – was followed by the shrieking sound of tearing metal and the groan of something being crumpled. This can't be good, I thought to myself as my body stiffened. The metallic sounds continued for a second or two, and then we heard the screams. Terrified, delirious screams. I listened closely to try and make out what they were saying... I couldn't make sense of much, but I did get one thing, shouted over and over in frantic wails. "Der Todesengel" – the Angel of Death. I suddenly had a flashback to my monstrous days after Harvey's ambush. That's what the German soldiers had called me. I heard it night after night as I feasted on them. I turned to look at Coraline – she was thinking the same thing I was.

"Vampire..."

"Definitely," I concurred. She stood quickly.

"Whoever they are, we have to stop them before they totally give us all away."

As much as I hated it, she was right. If there was a rogue vampire feasting on soldiers in such a blatant fashion, it could mean big trouble for all of us here in Belgium. I couldn't let that happen, especially not now, when things were finally starting to come together. I stood next to Coraline, shaking the ice off of my body, and together we raced through the frozen woods toward the sound of the screams.

18. CROSSFIRE

THE FROZEN UNDERBRUSH CRACKLED UNDER OUR FEET AS WE

sped through the icy forest, closing in on the distant sounds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was hoping that this was some kind of misunderstanding, a false alarm. As we finally cleared the tree line, that hope disappeared. In the distance was a small military convoy – three tanks and a personnel carrier – torn and strewn across the icy landscape.

It was definitely a vampire.

We slowed as soon as we reached the open hillside, opting for a more cautious approach – after all, we didn't know what type of vampire this was – he or she may be dangerous. We snuck closer to the scene through the now eerie stillness, all senses on high alert. At first I wondered if the attacker had heard us coming and fled, but then I spotted it. I couldn't be sure from a distance whether it was a male or female, but it was drinking, either oblivious to or unconcerned with our presence. I motioned over to Coraline and we decided to confront the attacker together. And by 'together,' I mean she ran over to the vampire and I followed.

"Hey!" She shouted abruptly as she closed to within fifteen feet of the killer. "What are you doing? You can't hunt soldiers here."

The vampire didn't budge. Coraline closed in, and I was now just ten feet or so behind her. Frustrated by the inattention to her first warning, she spoke again, moving to within an arm's reach. "Hey, are you listening to me? This is our territory, and you're making a total mess of things, so back off!" She moved in and placed her hand on the shoulder of the mysterious vampire to pull him or her off. It was a big mistake. The killer let out a chilling snarl, grabbing her arm and throwing her over his back. She flew twenty feet or so before colliding with one of the overturned tanks. The beast swiftly stood up, dropping its human victim and taking a defensive stance. He was huge. Intimidating. I didn't have time to think about that, though. I instinctively rushed toward him, plowing my shoulder into his chest and driving him into the ground. It didn't take long to realize that wasn't a good idea either. He was much stronger, and sent me flying through the air with a leg to the chest. I landed near Coraline, who was just getting up and reorienting herself. I popped back up almost instantly, ready to rip his head off. Not that it would be easy. He was huge – easily over 6'5", with a muscular frame. From the looks of him, it would take both of us to bring him down, which was an idea that sounded perfectly acceptable to me at the time. Thankfully, Coraline was a little more level-headed.

"Easy, easy. We're not here to attack you. We just need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" He thundered.

"This is our territory you're hunting in. Whatever you've got going on, take it on down the road." I had forgotten how firm she could be when she wanted to. The vampire was unimpressed. He just glared at us as another large figure emerged from the shadows.

"I think you're mistaken," the second one said as he came into view, "You see, all of Europe is our territory, so, you're the ones who are trespassing, not us. In fact, you just spoiled a kill we were working very hard on. I could quite literally kill you both for that." He stopped next to the other vampire, and it was easy to see they were related. They looked nearly identical, with the exception of their long, straight hair. The first one's was golden blonde, this one's was a chestnut brown. The brown-haired one spoke again calmly, as the blonde was still smoldering.

"I'm not really in the mood for killing if I don't get to drink anything, so why don't you two just run along and I'll spare your lives this time." His slight smile and even tone seemed to mask the severity of his words. Still, I was considering his proposal. Coraline wasn't.

"We have been living here for two years – we're not trespassing. And we're not leaving. Obviously you're passing through, so why don't you just keep passing through, and we won't report you to the Volturi this time."

The brunette frowned and looked at the blonde one. "They really have a death wish. You can take the male, I'll handle the fiery one."

I instinctively lowered into a crouch as my mind began whirling into action. They were serious – they wanted to fight us. I knew they were strong, but I had a hunch that we might be able to outrun them. It was at least a twenty-minute journey back to the house, but Harriet was there – we would have an advantage in numbers. I was ready to make a run for it as the two towering vampires started creeping towards us, and then yet another voice came ringing through the night. This one I recognized.

"Whoa! Magnus, Matthias, hold up, mates! Hold up..." It was Wesley. I relaxed slightly. Apparently he knew these guys. He came racing through the woods behind us, pulling up right in front of me, his hands outstretched.

"What's the trouble here, mates?"

"These two ruined our kill," the blonde one said angrily.

"We're having a territorial dispute," the brunette clarified. "It'll be over in a moment if you'd like to wait..."

Wesley took a step forward, still holding out his arms in a gesture to keep the two aggressors back. "Let's all take a deep breath and settle down for a moment, okay? These are my friends. We live here, this is our hunting territory. We'd be happy to grant you safe passage until you're further along your way, but it would help us a lot if you didn't hunt around here. We're trying to keep a low profile."

The brunette spoke again, still calm. "Sorry, Pemberton, but that won't do. The Germans are settling in for a large offensive; we're going to be here for quite a while. I suggest you and your friends find a new territory to claim."

Wesley squared his jaw, lowering his arms and taking a more aggressive stance. "You're not getting it, Matthias. We live here. We're not leaving. You are."

The brunette, whose name was apparently Matthias, chuckled slightly and was about to respond to Wesley's advance when the blonde, Magnus, inhaled deeply through his nose and blurted out in anger.

"Pemberton, you bastard! You think I wouldn't notice? You led them here, didn't you? You backstabbing, sneaky little Australian bastard!" He spoke to Magnus, still keeping an aggressive stance toward Wesley. "He's been with Hagar. You can smell it on him"

Wesley took a step back as Matthias' calm face turned to sudden rage. He sniffed for himself, taking a step forward.

"You miserable worm! I'll kill you!"

Wesley tried to diffuse the situation. "Easy, easy! I didn't lead them anywhere. I just happened to run into them, about fifty miles east of here. They have no idea you're in the area..."

Just then, Harriet arrived, crossing the opening and joining us without a word.

Matthias surveyed the four of us briefly and stopped his advance. "What is this, your little coven?"

"We don't want to fight you, Matthias," Wesley said firmly, "but if you take one step closer I'll rip your damn head off myself." The rest of us took our cue from Wesley and stepped forward, crouched and ready to fight.

"I'd like to see you try," Matthias answered as he narrowed his eyes and lunged forward. I thought quickly in that instant, and reached out with my ability. He was a little out of my effective range, but I was able to get enough of a feel on him to slow him down considerably. I tracked the signals running along his spine to his hands, and slowed them to a crawl. He never got his hands above his waist, and as Wesley met him in the middle, he took the brown-haired vampire in his arms, lifting him up and then slamming him headfirst into the ground. The three of us advanced quickly behind him to discourage the blonde from retaliating. Matthias bounced back up quickly, a furious glare on his face.

"I see you brought a weapon with you," he growled, as he slowly moved his arms up – I was still inhibiting them. "This is not over. I'm going to hunt down every last one of you and kill you slowly. Hagar too. You're all dead – you understand that? You're dead." The two vampires backed away slowly until they were at a safe distance, and then they turned and sped off into the woods. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief. All except Wesley. He was visibly tense as he turned to address us. Harriet questioned him before he could speak.

"Wesley, what is going on here? I heard the sounds... who were those guys?"

"The Michelsons," He replied. "Twins. Very bad... those blokes mean business. We need to get out of here – they'll be back."

Coraline was the next to question him. "What's their problem? And what was all that about 'Hagar?'"

"Okay, it's a long story, so let me give you the short version. You remember I used to hunt werewolves, back in the 1890's, right? Well, there were nine of us in that hunting party. These two and their younger brothers, Klause and Lief, a huge African bloke, a Mongolian, a middle-eastern bloke named Hagar and his mate, Claudia, and me. And then there was Philippe, but he didn't really do any of the fighting, he just organized it. The Michelsons, they were always the best at hunting. You know the story of Beowulf, the Swedish hero – the monster killer? Well, these guys are where those legends came from. They didn't always think they needed help, but hunting werewolves is a team sport, so the nine of us, we all hunted the wolves together. Anyway, this one day everything went bad, and Klause got killed by wolves. The Michelsons blamed Hagar, so they retaliated and attacked Claudia, nearly killed her. The whole thing kinda started a feud between the Iceland vampires and the Greeks. There's a lot of hostility there, trust me."

"So they think you led Hagar and the Greeks to them?" I asked.

"I was out this evening checking on things to our west – I heard the humans were marching their soldiers here, so I went to see for myself. The Americans and the Brits are just over those hills – thousands of 'em, ready to fight. I ran into Hagar and Claudia while I was there, and talked to them for a while. They've been following the allied army, along with two other Greek covens, for the last three months. And from the looks of things, the Michelsons have been following the Germans. Trouble is, I think the two armies are about to start a fight, which means there's gonna be a big, ugly clash between the Greeks and the Icelanders." He took a step closer to us, his face gravely serious. "We have to get out of here, out of the whole region, as soon as possible. The Michelsons don't mess around – when they said they would kill us, they were serious." He turned to look at me. "Grant, are you any good at fighting?"

"Ugh... not really. I don't know anything about fighting vampires..."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "Okay, here's the rundown. The Michelsons are going to go for your head every time – it's the easy kill. Once the head is disconnected, the rest of the body can't function in any sort of coordinated way. The best thing to do is to try and dodge as much as you can, and attack their limbs – they're more vulnerable there. That'll startle them and give you the chance to take them off guard. And of course, it'll hurt like hell. If, by some chance you lose any body parts, make sure you get them back – you can always be put back together. And whatever you do, stay away from fire, especially if they break the skin. Venom's more flammable than gasoline. You'll go up in a puff of smoke before you know what hit you."

Great. Thanks for the mental image.

He backed up slightly to speak to all of us. "Matthias and Magnus are real similar – they're both overconfident in their skills. Magnus, the blonde one, has a real temper. If you can make him mad, he'll lose his concentration, and you'll have a better shot at him. Matthias is smarter, and he has a cooler head. Don't even think about fighting him unless there are at least two of you. Just run. He's not that fast, you can all outrun him."

"There are four of us," Coraline said defiantly, "why don't we just fight them – we could take them..."

"No, we got lucky," Wesley replied. "There are three of them, and it's the little brother you want to watch out for. If all three come, we don't have a chance."

"So, how do we fight the little brother?" I asked. "Any weaknesses?"

"You just pray to God you don't run into him," He replied. "Lief has an ability, he calls it 'ghosting.' He can move side to side or something, and he does it so fast that you can't really see him – he's just a blur. Of course, it's near impossible to fight him – he just sneaks around you and goes for the kill shot. I've personally seen him kill five other vampires. He's the dangerous one. I'm actually a little surprised he wasn't with Magnus and Matthias – they're never too far apart. They're probably going to get him right now. All the more reason for us to hurry."

Harriet was shaking in fear. Coraline looked ready to fight. I fell somewhere in the middle. The four of us debated and planned for a while, trying to figure out the best way for us to get out of this situation. After a half hour of arguing, we were still locked in a stalemate. So Wesley, being the man-of-action that he was, made an executive decision. That decision was to run.

"So that's all you're willing to do?" Coraline asked him. "Just run away?"

"Running's the only play we've got right now, Cor. We've gotta get as far away as possible – maybe we can go back down to Hermes and Theodore. At least that way, we'd know if they were coming. The trouble is going to be getting out of Belgium. We need to split up. I'll go talk to Hagar and see if he'd allow us to escape in his direction – that would buy us some time. Coraline, you go get Philippe. Tell him what's going on here. Mbete, and the Mongolian are with him now. They know how to handle the Michelsons."

"Wait, who's Mbete?" She asked. "I've been around Philippe for a long time, and I've never heard of either of them..."

"Mbete is the African who hunted with us. He's like seven feet tall, and he carries a battle axe with blades made from the teeth of vampires he's killed. It'll cut right through you. He's definitely a guy you want on your side. And the Mongolian, he has an ability – he makes everyone around him really dizzy, except for the ones he chooses to exclude. After the werewolves were exterminated, Philippe kept those two as his personal bodyguards of sorts. He's always got them nearby. Tell him to bring everyone he's got. He may have to get the Volturi guard involved – if the Michelsons have any of the other Icelanders with them, it's gonna be a really messy battle."

"I'll see what I can do," Coraline responded.

Welsey turned to me next. "Grant, you and Harriet go back to the house and get anything you can't live without – whatever you can carry. Make sure to get all the cash we have on hand, too. Once you get it, lay low, and keep moving. There's a small pond ten miles west of the house – does everybody know where it is?" We all nodded. "We'll meet there in three hours. Now go, hurry!" With that, he sped off to the West. We had our directions, and we were ready to head off when Coraline spoke up.

"Harriet, why don't you go and get Philippe? I'll stay here with Grant and get the stuff from the house."

"But... why? Philippe knows you. Shouldn't you go get him?"

"If he knows I'm in danger, he'll be more likely to come quickly. He'll care more. Trust me, I know him." Harriet was still quivering slightly.

"Coraline, I'm afraid. What if something happens to Wesley, or you or Grant..."

"Nothing's gonna happen," Coraline assured her. "We'll be fine. Now, it's a Saturday, so Philippe should be in Frankfurt. He always stays in the back of St. Peter's Cathedral on the south side of town. Do you know where that is?" She nodded her head. "If he's not there, ask for a woman named Heidi – she can lead you to him. When you find him, tell him I'm in trouble, tell him to bring Mbete and the Mongolian, and whoever else he's got. And he needs to contact the Volturi. Can you remember all that?" She placed her hands on Harriet's shoulders as she spoke. Harriet nodded again. "Be careful, Hattie," she said as Harriet started to leave, "you're the only sister I have." Harriet sped off to the southeast, which left me and Coraline to go to the house.

"What was that all about?" I asked her before we left. "You're the one who has the inroad with Philippe..."

"I wanted to get her as far away from here as possible. If the Michelson's followed our scent, then they'll know where we live. C'mon, we've gotta hurry."

We took off, running through the forest back to the house. I sorted through things in my head as we traveled in silence. Why did everything have to go so wrong? Of all the places for a family feud, why here? Why now? We were all running for our lives, simply because we were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow it didn't seem fair. I thought again of the two brothers, how strong and experienced they were. I didn't stand a chance against them. Of course, I was able to slow Matthias down a bit, but doing it while Wesley fought him was totally different from trying to do it while I was fighting him. I wasn't sure I would have the concentration for that. And then there was Coraline. If anything happened to her... I pushed the thought out of my mind – it terrified me. It simply couldn't happen. I wouldn't let it happen.

We topped the last hill leading up to the house, and Coraline came to an abrupt halt, placing her arm out to stop me.

"They've been here," she whispered. I looked at the broken front door and fear surged through me. They've already been here – what if it's a trap? Do we really need anything from the house? We hid behind a large tree and scanned the area. We didn't hear or smell any evidence that the brothers were still in the area, so we reluctantly decided to move ahead with the plan. Coraline would sneak into the house and pick up whatever she could; I would stay back at a distance and keep a watch out in case the brothers returned. I wasn't thrilled about the situation, but I went along with it. At least this way I would have advance warning if someone was coming.

I took up a position on top of the hill and watched like a hawk as Coraline made her way stealthily across the yard and into the house. The night was unusually quiet – probably due to the poor weather – and I was able to hear every sound she made as she rummaged through the little house for a few important items. Before she had been inside twenty seconds I heard a dull roar, a rumbling in the distance. I recognized the sound – it was a military plane coming our way from the east. I quickly checked the horizon, but the sky was far too cloudy to make anything out. It seemed that the brothers had been right; there was an immanent attack, and it was happening nearby.

I pointed my attention back to Coraline – more rustling, more scurrying about. What is she doing in there? She'd better hurry up. I was getting nervous as she neared one minute inside. The sooner we could get out and on the run, the better. As I waited, the droning of the planes got louder and louder. I checked the horizon again – still no sign of them. They couldn't be far off. Another fifteen seconds passed. "Come on, Coraline," I whispered under my breath, "come on." My foot was tapping nervously as my eyes scanned rapidly back and forth across the yard and the neighboring woods. If there was anyone coming, I would see it. Finally she darted out of the house with an armful of assorted items.

"Alright let's get out of he-"

"Hold these..." She cut me off as she shoved the items toward me and turned to go back inside.

"W-wait. Coraline! We don't have time…" But it was too late. She was back inside in a flash. I laid the items at my feet and went back to watching, more nervous than ever. Something just didn't feel right about all this. The rumble in the distance became an increasing hum as the planes neared our position. That's weird, I thought to myself. They're coming right over us… I looked again at the horizon, and this time I saw them – twelve Luftwaffe fighters in formation. They were flying low, just under the cloud cover. The problem with the planes is that as they got nearer, the sound of their engines began drowning out everything else around me. I started to worry as the aircraft closed in overhead – I couldn't hear anything. My eyes darted back and forth, looking for anything suspicious as I waited for the planes to pass by. Hurry, hurry, hurry! Come on, Coraline. Hurry it up…

I was just about ready to rush in there and get her when I heard something unusual in the drone of the engines overhead. I looked up, and saw the strangest thing… one of the planes near the back of the formation had broken off and was diving in a steep descent toward the ground. That's too steep to pull out of… my mind raced. What is he doing? He's gonna hit the… oh, God! I traced the trajectory of the falling plane, and it was heading straight for the house. Fear gripped my heart, and for a split second I froze. And then I sprang into action.

"Coraline! Run! Get out of there, now!" I raced toward the house, trying to beat the flying explosive as it fell with increasing speed toward the ground. Oh, God, I'm not going to make it in time. How did this happen? What is going on? I looked up to see where the aircraft was – I was out of time. I saw the canopy shatter as something flew off of the plane. There was no time. I shouted in a panic.

"Coraline! Get out, get out! You have to get o-"

And then it hit.

Seven thousand pounds of steel, fuel and explosives came crashing into the house at several hundred miles an hour. I was less than twenty feet from the building when the collision happened. The blast sent me flying back through the air, colliding with a large tree before I hit the ground. It took me a moment to shake off the force of the blow, and when I did, I could scarcely take in what I saw. The place where the house used to stand was now a crater. There was no pile of rubble this time – just a huge, flaming hole in the ground. A sudden rush of emotion swept over me as I sped across the yard with all my might and dove into the inferno. Coraline was in there. My Coraline. I had to get her out before the fire got to her.

"Coraline? Coraline! Can you hear me? Hang on, I'm coming! Hang on…" I shouted frantically as I dug through the wreckage, throwing flaming pieces of wood and steel across the yard as I searched for her. Flashbacks rushed through my mind as I dug through the debris. I saw my mother's face, staring coldly back at me in death, my father lying lifeless among the bombed-out remains of the factory in Manchester. Sorrow swept over me as I searched for her. The fire singed and burned my limbs, sending pain streaking through my body. It didn't matter. I pushed the pain back, physical and emotional, and dug deeper. And then a glimmer of hope burst through the cloudy night of my despair. Something moved in the rubble.

"Coraline! Can you hear me? Hang on!" I jumped over to the origin of the motion and dug like a man possessed. It was her. She was alive. In a flash, I uncovered one ivory-white hand, then another. I pulled her gingerly out of the burning debris, holding her in my arms as I leaped out of the pit and laid her on the icy ground. Her eyes were closed – she was moving, but not speaking. My breath raced in short pulses as I brushed the soot and ash off of her, using my mind to examine her for injuries.

"Coraline? Can you hear me? Are you alright? Please, say something…" Fear gripped me as I sat there gently stroking her face. I knew all about human anatomy and vital signs, but how do you assess the health of a vampire? Was she going to be alright? I was about to lift her up and carry her away when I heard an unfamiliar voice nearby.

"You have to admit, it had flair…" A small vampire with extremely long, flowing blonde hair walked casually across the yard toward us. He looked young – twenty years old at most. "Too bad it didn't work, though…"

Before I had the chance to react, he darted at me, closing the gap between us in an instant. I reacted as quickly as I could, ducking to one side and extending my arms to keep his bared teeth away from me. The two of us grappled on the ground, rolling away from Coraline – and toward the flaming crater. He was strong, but I was stronger, and eventually I was able to get a grip on his leg, spinning him around and throwing him back into the woods. I raced over to Coraline, who was still writhing on the ground, and scooped her up. I ran across the yard, heading for the woods where we had been earlier, but I didn't make it far. The vampire was fast – unbelievably fast. He caught up to us in a flash, and I had to drop Coraline to turn and block a blow that would have taken my head off. The monster jumped toward Coraline, but I intercepted him mid-air with a swift kick, sending him sliding on the frozen ground. He bounced back up like nothing had happened, chuckling like he had just heard a good joke.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you? This'll be more fun than I thought." He ran at me like any other vampire, and then, when he was about ten yards away, he turned into a brown and white blur. My senses tensed immediately – this must be the younger brother Wesley had warned me about. Somewhere out of the blur, a fist came swinging, taking me off guard and knocking me off my feet. I scrambled toward Coraline, throwing my body across hers as he dove toward her. His razor-sharp teeth dug into my back like a knife, and I let out a cry of pain. Somehow, I had the wherewithal to reach back at him, and I grabbed two handfuls of hair. I swung him over my body, making a small divot in the ground as I slammed him onto it in front of me. He flipped over and lunged at me again, blurring as he came. This time, his hands were around my neck, tugging feverishly as he placed his leg against my torso for leverage. I clenched my hands together and slammed them against his leg, causing a resounding crunch as I knocked him off of me. This time, he let out a pained yelp. I planted my shoulder squarely into his chest and began to run, piledriving him into a large tree thirty yards away. I had to get this fight as far away from Coraline as possible. He managed to get his head around to my arm as we collided with the tree, and I felt another stinging pain as he bit my shoulder, tearing off a large piece of vampire flesh as he pulled his head away.

There was another scramble on the ground, a jumble of fists and feet and teeth, and this time, he got the better of me, bending my fingers back to the point of breaking, and then kicking me in the chest. He lifted up the fallen tree we had just run into, and hit me with it as I was getting up. Everything went blurry for a moment from the force of the blow, and I hobbled up to see him limping back toward Coraline. I stumbled after him, barely reaching him before he got to her. I grabbed hold of his injured leg and pounded it with my first. He howled in pain, but still had the strength to spin around and punch me right in the throat, causing me to release my grip on him. We both scrambled to our feet again and I stood over Coraline, still woozy from being hit with the tree. He circled slowly, looking for the right angle to attack from.

"Enough with the games," he snarled. "You die now." I continued to track him as he moved around, ready to defend anything. And then I heard a sound from beneath me. Coraline was regaining consciousness. She muttered something incoherent, and I glanced down momentarily to look at her. A moment was all it took. Lief stormed at me in a blur, and before I had time to think, he was on me, hands around my neck. I wrestled him off, but he just came at me again, moving around so quickly that I didn't have time to prepare for his attacks. The second time he came at me low, grabbing my ankle and twisting me around. I heard a crunching sound as my ankle gave way, sending knives of pain throbbing though my leg. I was sure it was broken, but I didn't have time to think about that at the moment – his teeth were just inches from my neck. I tried to wrestle him off, but he lunged at the last moment, taking a bite out of the side of my neck – a narrow miss. I pulled back enough to hit him with my head, which caused him to loosen his grip. I rolled over and threw him off with my good leg.

It was hard to get back on my feet; my ankle was definitely broken, and I couldn't put much weight on it. My neck was burning in pain, and I could feel the venom draining onto my shirt. For the first time, I was really afraid of dying. He was just too fast – I couldn't hold him off forever. He would wear me down, and kill me and Coraline. Then I had a revelation. Maybe I could slow him down. He was so dependent on his ghosting that if I were to trump it somehow, it may distract him enough to allow for a lethal counterattack. I peered into him as he stalked again, trying to understand how he moved. I would only have time for one attempt at this – I couldn't hold out much longer. I saw him begin to move toward me for one more attack, and everything went into slow motion. I saw the signals go from his brain to the various nerve endings through his body. Each muscle responded in turn, causing the motion that disguised him. He came one step closer, then two, then three. Milliseconds were like minutes as he closed the gap between us. I lowered into a crouch and reached out with my mind, willing the nerve impulses to slow. He suddenly slowed, but still advanced with lethal intent. Right before I jumped out to meet him, I heard Coraline's voice in a whisper.

"Grant..." I hesitated for an instant, and he was right in front of me, teeth bared and headed for my neck. I pushed my ability to its limits, and prepared a counterattack. He slowed dramatically as he reached me, and I shifted my head to the side. Just as I did that, Coraline reached out from the ground and grabbed his foot, pulling him off-balance. He leaned one way and I went the other, catching his left arm in my hands. Without thinking, I opened my mouth, venom dripping like saliva, and bit right through his wrist, taking his hand completely off. He screamed in pain as the the hand fell to the ground, blood and venom pouring out like water. The shocked vampire jumped back, cradling his injured arm in his other hand. I stooped down and picked up the severed hand, which was writhing violently, and threw it with all my strength into the crater.

"No!" He screamed as he lunged after it, ignoring us altogether. He didn't catch it in time, and the white hand ignited instantly as soon as it hit the open flames. I moved in front of Coraline as he reached in vain for it, stretching too far and stepping into the flames. An arc of fire burned up the trail of venom dripping from his wounded arm, and he shrieked in agony as his entire arm became engulfed in flames. He ran away as the fire started spreading over him, screaming as he went. Once he disappeared into the woods, I turned my attention back to Coraline, who was still on the ground.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yes... I think. What happened?" She still seemed a little disoriented.

"Lief crashed a plane into the house. You're lucky to be alive. Come on, we need to get out of here. Can you walk?"

"I think so..." I helped her up and we moved as fast as possible on a broken ankle, heading into the woods for cover. Once we were a safe distance from the house, I sat on the ground, taking the weight off of my injured leg.

"Are you okay?" She asked, apparently referring to my ankle.

"I think it's broken. I'll be okay, I just need to reset it."

"No, I mean your neck. You're still losing fluid..."

I felt my neck where he had bitten me – there was a large hole there, and it burned like fire. I could feel the wetness of the venom on my hand.

"Where were you when he bit you?" She asked me.

"By the broken tree on the other side of the yard..."

"Wait here – I'll go find it. You need your neck back..."

"No, Coraline. Forget it. I'll be fine."

"No you won't. I'll get it."

I wouldn't let her go alone, so I reset my ankle and hobbled through the excruciating pain to find my missing pieces. We retrieved the chunk from my neck and the one from my shoulder, and went back into the woods, stopping on our way to pick up the pile of things Coraline had pulled from the house earlier. This time we went deep into the woods, back to the rock outcropping where we had talked several weeks before. We sat down and she pulled out the piece of flesh from my neck. It looked more like a chip off of a marble statue than a mouthful of tissue from my body. She held it delicately in her hands.

"Lean back," she told me as she held it up to my neck, "and try to stay still. I've never done this before, so I don't know what this'll feel like..." I felt the coldness as she placed the piece of stone back into the hole in my neck. It wasn't a painful feeling, but it wasn't pleasant either. I felt a tingling sensation rush to the wound as my venom worked to heal it. She held it in place for a few moments, then removed her hand as the chunk reconnected with my body.

"How do you feel?" She asked, placing her hand gently on my face.

"I'm okay. I'm more concerned about you. You were unconscious for at least two minutes. Is that... normal for a vampire?"

"I have no idea. I actually thought I was dead... I felt the heat – the fire was so hot... and then I heard your voice. It was all like a strange dream..."

I turned to her, kissing her forehead gently before embracing her for a long time.

"I thought I'd lost you," I whispered into her ear as I held her tightly. She just sat there in my arms and ran her fingers through my hair.

"I'm scared, Grant. What if they find Harriet? What if they come after us again? I mean, that was just one of them. If all three came at once..."

"Harriet will be just fine," I replied. "She's with Philippe by now. And don't worry about us. I'm here. I won't let them hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

We sat there for about fifteen minutes to give my ankle time to heal itself. Vampire venom really is such an amazing thing. It can heal virtually any wound, yet it's the flammable agent that makes fire so lethal. For the moment, I was glad to reap the benefits of the double-edged sword, and I let the venom do its work, repairing my wounds until I was as good as new. Once I was strong enough to walk again, we were back on the move, staying mobile through the woods as we waited for the rendezvous time. I had the feeling this was going to be a very long night.

19. WAITING

My attention was on high alert, scanning the surroundings feverishly as we weaved a circuitous route through the quiet forest. I saw every minute detail of the iced over landscape, heard every sound wave floating through the air. After Leif's unconventional sneak attack, I wasn't going to take any chances. It was exhausting – I couldn't wait for the rest of our three hours to be up so we could meet with Wesley and Harriet and get out of the country.

Gradually, the falling rain changed to sleet, and then snow, dusting the ground with layer after layer of pristine white. The ground was actually quite slippery, and I was thankful to have super-human agility. Coraline and I eventually grew too anxious to wait, and we went to the rendezvous point early. It was a small body of water, no more than a hundred yards across, with heavy forestation right up to the water's edge. We dropped our cargo and had a seat while we waited for the others to come. That lasted about two minutes - there was just too much going on to sit around. We both ended up pacing around opposite sides of the pond, keeping a watch out for the first sign of anyone – friend or foe.

Waiting is brutal. Sometimes, just waiting for something unpleasant is worse than the event itself. I certainly hoped this was one of those situations. We patiently held our ground around the freezing pond, mentally wincing like a child about to get a shot. My watch was destroyed in the fight with Lief, so we really had no idea what time it was, just an approximation. The official meeting time was 4:30am, but given our circumstances, that didn't really mean much.

So we waited.

Minutes passed by with painful slowness as the snow continued to pour all around us. And then finally, when I thought I was going to go mad with impatience, Wesley showed up.

"Sorry I'm late," he said hurriedly, "it took me forever to find Hagar. It's a bloody mess out there – the humans are really going at it." He slowed up as he reached me; Coraline was over to our side of the pond in a flash. Wesley continued.

"So, bad news – Hagar doesn't want us anywhere near him or his coven. He's pretty pissed that we told the Michelson's he was nearby. We're probably gonna have to try and go north, hit the coast. We can travel safely underwater. The big problem is gonna be getting out of the Ardenne – there are humans everywhere, and it looks like we may not have much cloud cover once the sun comes up." I took a moment to look up at the sky – sure enough, the clouds were thinning, and the moon was beginning to peek through their thin veil. I hadn't even noticed.

"So, where's Harriet?" Wesley asked as he realized I was here without her (after all, we were supposed to be the ones to go to the house). Coraline and I paused, searching for the right explanation. We hadn't really thought about what to tell Wesley if things happened this way. His face suddenly became even more serious, as his eyes darted back and forth between the two of us.

"O, God. O, no. No, no, no, no, no..." He shook his head, slowly stepping back.

Coraline interrupted his panic and tried to alleviate it. "No, it's not that. It's just..."

"What? Where is she?" I had never seen Wesley so intense.

"We... don't know."

"Wha – what do you mean 'you don't know?'"

"We split up," I jumped in, trying to take some of the heat off of Coraline. "We sent Harriet to get Philippe; Coraline and I went to the house."

"Why would you do that?" He demanded, obviously angry.

"Because we thought it would be safer," Coraline said defensively. "I wanted to get her as far away from here as possible. I'm sure she's fine – it's probably just taking her a while to track down Philippe..."

Wesley was irate. "You thought it would be safer to send her alone?" He shouted, his voice ringing through the quiet woods. "You stupid...selfish..."

"Hey – I almost died going to the house!" Coraline countered, not backing down an inch. She had the kind of backbone drill sergeants could only dream of. "Lief flew a plane into the house – while I was in it. He nearly took off Grant's head fighting. I had to put him back together after I regained consciousness myself, so don't you dare start to call me selfish. I did the best I could."

"Yeah, the best you bloody could, eh? Sticking together – the little lovebirds. Why couldn't you just stick to the sodding plan?"

"Hey," she shouted back, "this had nothing to do with Grant and me! Did you not hear what I just said? We were ambushed. We're lucky to be alive."

"Oh, and so who cares about Harriet, right? 'She'll be fine...'"

"I'm sure she's alright, Wes-"

"You're not bloody sure of anything! She could be getting ripped to pieces right now. Hell, she could be a bloody pile of ashes for all we know."

"Wesley! How can you say that?" She countered. He turned, running his hands through his hair as he walked away from us. After several steps he turned. "Because I'm thinkin' it, Cor. Because it's a damn good possibility. I can't lose her, Cor... I can't..."

"Wesley... I'm sorry," I stepped in, trying the softer approach. "We shouldn't have sent her out there alone, but... we didn't really have a choice..."

"Oh, you made your choice, alright. You made your choice..." With that, he stalked off, pacing around the pond alone. Coraline turned to me, her eyebrows raised.

"I did not expect that..."

"He's right. We shouldn't have sent her alone..."

"No, for all we know she would have been crushed and burned in the house. It's a miracle I'm okay. She's alright. She's just running behind."

It was strange seeing Coraline be the optimistic one for once. Of course, I suspected that her 'optimism' was closer to denial. She had lost so much in her life – she couldn't handle another loved one dying on her. The three of us circled the little pond for another hour, looking for any sign of Harriet. We got nothing. Eventually I noticed Coraline sit down, head in hands. I was immediately concerned, fearing that she was still suffering somehow from her earlier injuries. I came to her quickly, stooping to the ground next to her.

"Hey, are you alright? Are you feeling disoriented again?" She just stared blankly at the ground. The look on her face was one of concern – of emotional pain, not physical. After a pause she spoke, her once-confident voice now weak and shallow.

"What if she's dead, Grant?"

"Coraline, we can't-"

"But what if she is? I saw her shaking – she was terrified. What if the other two caught up to her? She can't be that hard to track. I should have protected her... I should have kept her with me and we all could have gone to Philippe together. God, Grant, what have I done?"

I wrapped my arms around her, stroking her arm gently. "You can't think that way, Coraline. We don't know anything yet. Maybe she decided to stay with Philippe for safety. It surely would've taken him some time to get his men together. She could be on her way over here right now..."

"Maybe I should go look for her..."

"No. That wouldn't do any good – you know that. You'd get halfway to Frankfurt and then she'd show up here. Then we'd be the ones out looking for you. We can't do anything to help her right now. All we can do is wait. And hope." She turned to me, burying her head in my chest.

"If anything happened to her... I could never forgive myself."

"It's gonna be alright," I said softly, "we just have to give her some more time."

I held her for another half hour as the last of the snowflakes fell around us. Just as Wesley had predicted, the sky above us began opening up, allowing bright beams of moonlight to sneak between the parting clouds. Not exactly the ideal weather for a cross-country escape. It was nearing 6:30am, and there was still no sign of Harriet. Wesley's pacing had intensified – he was growing visibly impatient. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would do something rash. And I was right. He came stomping over to us, eyes intense, jaw set.

"I'm going after her," he said as he walked by, heading into the woods. Coraline and I sprang up and followed him, trying to talk him out of it.

"Wesley – wait! You can't just go searching for her – you don't even know where to look," I yelled as I caught up to him.

"I know enough," He said curtly as he continued walking. Coraline reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to a halt. "What if she comes back here? What's she supposed to do then?"

"You two stay. I'll go looking for her."

"I thought the whole point of this is that we all need to stick together," I countered. "What if the twins sneak up on you?"

"Yeah? And what if they sneak up on Harriet while she's making her way back here? I'm not taking that chance." His mind was made up – there was no changing it. He started walking again, faster this time. We continued to follow.

"So what are we supposed to do now, Wesley? Just wait for you to find her and bring her back?" Coraline was getting frustrated.

"That's the plan. Think you can stick to it this time?"

She wasn't ready to give in either. "Welsey! Look at the sky – it's almost sunrise, and the clouds aren't thick enough to block anything. And there's snow on the ground. Exactly how far do you really think you're going to be able to go?"

"Far enough," He said as he bolted off, leaving a mist of powdery snow behind him. We gave up the chase – it was obvious we couldn't stop him. The two of us stood there, trying to figure out what to do next.

"We have to go after him," I said to her, as she began pacing back and forth. "He's not thinking straight. He's gonna get himself killed."

She thought about it a minute before responding. "We can't. We have to stay here and wait for Harriet. If she comes back and we're all gone, then we're right back where we started. Actually, we'd be worse off."

"Then maybe we should split up," I proposed, "you stay here and wait for Harriet. I'll go try and talk some sense into Wesley."

"No. No more splitting up. We're easy targets that way. We have to just stay here. Wesley can take care of himself."

"No he can't," I countered, "Not like this. Look, it's been over five hours since Harriet left for Frankfurt. If she's not back by now, that leaves only two real possibilities. Either she's with Philippe... or she's with the Michelson's. Either way, we're not helping anybody by staying here."

We heard the distant roar of cannon fire resounding through the morning air. The humans had stepped up their offensive. The artillery volleys were just a precursor to the main event. Before long, they would send in the footsoldiers – which would mean thousands of humans pouring through the snow-covered woods. Reflected sunlight was just as telling on a vampire's skin as direct sunlight, and with the world covered in snow and ice, even the smallest beam of light would be disastrous. There would be no shadows to hide in, no rocks to crawl under. We would be caught.

"Coraline!" I said sharply, pausing her pacing. "We have to go. Now. Our time is running out – if we don't get Wesley back before the sun comes out, he'll be spotted by thousands of humans. There's no way the Volturi would stand for that. They'll kill him. They'll kill him, Coraline. We have to go."

She stared off for a moment as she considered my words. I was right. She knew it.

"How much time do you think we have?" She asked me.

"Judging from how low the moon is... I'd give us about an hour and a half... maybe less."

"Okay," she said, collecting herself and then looking me squarely in the eyes. "Okay. Let's go get him."

20. TEAMWORK

WE RUSHED THROUGH THE DENSE FOREST FOLLOWING WESLEY'S

footprints as they tracked northward through the Ardenne mountains, leaving a cloud of powdery white snow behind us. We weren't worried about being followed. Neither was Wesley. His footprints pointed the way like a roadmap over the sloping hills.

We traced his steps for countless miles as they zigzagged across the countryside in a search pattern. After a half an hour, I began to get nervous. The moon was nearing the horizon – we had an hour at best to find Wesley and Harriet and take cover somewhere. It was becoming a more difficult task with each passing second. The winding route that began heading north turned to the east, and we had nearly crossed the border into Germany when something changed in the footprints. The clear, discernible path ended in a cluster of assorted footprints and disrupted snow. We stopped to investigate, trying to figure out where the trail led next. After a few painfully long moments scanning the area, we found the trail again, only this time, there were two sets of footprints. Hope swelled up inside us. He found Harriet.

We followed the new sets of prints, which led us back toward the rendezvous point, making sure to keep a watch out for human military forces. The Germans had been moving troops through the mountain passes all night, and the last thing we needed was to get spotted by one of the endless battalions of men and vehicles. After another fifteen minutes of tracking footprints, we finally heard something familiar as we topped a small hill. It was Wesley's voice – we had almost caught up to him. We increased our speed slightly to close the gap separating us from our friends, crossing two other hills before we finally spotted them.

And we froze in our tracks.

Wesley stood in a small clearing in the trees, his body crouched in a defensive stance over a severed arm – his arm. A surge of fear rushed through my body as I realized that those other footprints weren't Harriet's after all – they were Magnus'. The blonde vampire was circling around our one-armed friend, looking for the right attack angle. Coraline and I said nothing to each other. We both knew what we had to do. In a flash we bolted down the hillside, teeth bared, ready to come to Wesley's aide. The two of them were so engrossed in their standoff that they didn't notice us coming until we were less than a hundred yards away. Magnus looked up at us momentarily, which caused Wesley to look back at us. His eyes grew wide as he immediately began shouting,

"Grant, Cor, run! Get away! It's a tr-"

The rest of his warning was drowned out by the sound of splintering wood as my head passed through a thirty-foot tall spruce tree. It was a trap. Both brothers were here. I struggled to get out of Matthias' grasp as he held me down, both hands crushing my throat. Coraline came running over to us, trying to pull him off of me, but he grabbed her at just the right moment, using her momentum to send her flying overhead and crashing through a number of frozen branches.

"Who's got the power now?" He sneered at me as he rammed his head into mine, causing a dizzying swirl of colors to cloud my vision. Before I could regain my bearings, I heard a thundering crack, followed swiftly by excruciating pain in my right thigh. By the time I realized what had happened, he was gone, charging through the trees toward Coraline. I spun around, clamoring to my feet just in time to see him catch her mid-air and slam her into the ground, sending up a cloud of snow. I tried to run to her, but quickly realized what the crack had been earlier. My leg was broken. Badly. I could feel the severed bone pieces grating against each other as I stumbled forward, grasping at the nearby trees for balance. I glanced momentarily at Wesley – he was still in a standoff with Magnus. Coraline and Matthias were scrambling on the ground thirty yards from me. I hopped and hobbled in their direction, reaching out with my ability to try and slow Matthias down. They were moving so quickly that I couldn't get a clean read; all I could do was watch as they grappled with each other. I heard a screeching metal sound followed by a low-pitched cry of pain – Coraline had managed to take a sizable chunk out of his right arm. For someone with no real fighting experience, she was a handful. Ultimately, though, experience won out over determination, and she again went flying through the air, away from me and toward Wesley. I surged forward with all my might, trying desperately to get back into the fight. I remembered what Wesley had said about Matthias – how it would take two of us to fight him – I couldn't let her go up against him alone. I let out a battle cry as I charged him, broken leg and all, and tackled him at the knees, sending both of us rolling down the hill away from the others. We grappled as we rolled, and he landed a strong kick to my head, knocking me off momentarily before I regained my grip. I dug my teeth into his calf, but he moved it before I could do much damage. I could hearCoraline approaching as we came to a stop next to a large rock outcropping. I swung my arms violently, landing a few punches to his midsection, but he was just too strong for them to have much of an effect. He grabbed my head in one hand, thrusting it against the rock beneath us with such force that the stone split right down the middle, causing us to fall further down the hill. My head was swimming again as I struggled to land any kind of meaningful blow on the large vampire. It was like trying to hit a pinata blindfolded, lots of swinging, not much contact.

Once we came to a stop again, he lifted me up and hurled me back up the hill – at Coraline. I struck her mid-air, sending both of us into a small snowdrift. She helped me back to my feet, coordinating a defense strategy as Matthias sped back up the hill. We tried a high-low approach on him as he came within reach. I launched myself at his waist, biting into his ribs as she leaped onto his back and went for his head. He grunted as he tried to squirm his way out of our hold, using his arms to fend off Coraline while his legs kicked at me. Just as I was about to take another bite at his midsection, he landed a kick on my broken leg, sending pain rocketing through me like a lightning bolt. I loosened my grip, falling to the ground in front of him, in just the right location for another hard kick. It sent me flying back up the mountain toward Wesley and Magnus. I landed head-first in the snow halfway between the two battles, again unable to help in either one. I yanked my head out of the ground, and looked back down at Coraline and Matthias. She was still on his back, trying to get her hands or teeth around his neck. Before I could make a move to help, I saw him reach up and grab her by the head, swinging her over in front of him onto the ground. Then in a flash, he picked her up and slammed her slender frame across his knee. A sound like cannon fire echoed through the hills, as her body fell limp. My heart melted. I cried out in rage as I limped toward him, ignoring the stabbing pains that shot through my leg with every step. He grabbed her by the hair and began to drag her up the hill. She struggled in vain, unable to get her arms around anything to slow him down. I stumbled as I limped down the hill, rolling right in front of him. He chuckled as he grabbed my head, dropping Coraline momentarily, and kicked it, throwing me back up the hill, just outside the clearing where Wesley and Magnus were locked in each others arms on the ground. I tried to get up, but Matthias planted his foot on the middle of my back, thrusting me back onto the ground. He sped past me with Coraline, tossing her across the clearing like a rag doll. Next he turned to me, a mocking smirk on his face.

"Wanna go be with your girlfriend?" He teased, as he kicked my head again, bringing back the swimming, swirling colors. "First, we have to make sure you don't go running away," he added, and then bent my left leg against itself to the side, shattering my knee as I cried out in pain. He lifted me up and tossed me over next to Coraline, who was writhing on the ground in pain. Her lower body was totally motionless – whatever he had done to her must have been bad.

I pulled myself over to her with my hands, trying desperately to think of any way out of this situation. With both of us more or less incapacitated, the only hope we had left was Wesley, and I watched as that hope faded away. With both brothers now free to attack him, he didn't stand a chance. Matthias pounced on his back, holding his one attached arm back as Magnus pummeled him relentlessly. After a few moments of beating him with fists, Magnus picked up Wesley's severed arm and began hitting him with it, laughing as he struck him again and again. After an unnecessarily long volley, Matthias released Wesley, who slumped to the ground in pain. The brown-haired Icelander looked over at me and Coraline to make sure we were still where he'd left us, and then began ripping off tree branches and piling them into a large heap in the middle of the clearing. Despair washed through my veins like ice water – he was building a fire. This was the end.

A thousand memories flashed through my mind as I contemplated my second 'death,' my permanent one. I saw the faces of all the people I'd killed – the look of horror and panic – and wondered if I was wearing the same expression now, as I faced my doom. I thought of the attack on Harvey, of the rampage that followed it, of all the horrible things I'd done. It was just; I deserved to be destroyed, but mixed in with all the monstrosity of my vampire nature were countless memories of good times. I remembered the night I first saw Coraline, dancing on the opera house, skiing in the Himalayas, Harvey's wedding, my first kiss... there was so much good in my life – it was a shame to have it end so soon. If it did have to end, though, I wouldn't let it end in vain. I looked at Coraline, trying to pull herself forward by her arms as she winced in pain, and I devised a plan. Maybe if I could find what was wrong with her legs and influence them to heal fast enough... maybe I could create a diversion and give her the chance to run away. I would most likely die in the process, but if it meant she could live, I would gladly make the trade. It would be a noble death. I pulled myself over to her, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her closer to me.

"What's wrong with your legs?" I whispered to her as Matthias began pouring oil on the pile of branches, "What did he do to you?"

"I think my back is broken," she said through clenched teeth, fighting back the pain. "I can't feel anything below my waist." Aha! Something I have a bit of experience with.

I probed her spine with my ability, finding the break with ease. Vampire bodies were much easier to discern than humans. It was a small enough area to heal, and the venom was already flooding to the area, pulling things back together. I had confidence I could fix it – I just needed enough time.

"Listen," I said softly, pulling my mouth close to her ear, "I have a plan. I'm gonna try to fix your back. If I can get feeling back to your legs, then you can make a run for it. I'll cause a distraction somehow and try to give you a head start. It's not much, but it's the only thing we've got left."

"No," she said firmly, her face hardened with determination, "I'm not leaving you."

"You have to, Coraline. It's the only way. Go find Harriet and live your life."

I began exercising my influence on her back, causing the healing power of the venom to kick into high gear. I could see things changing, but it was still going to take some time. A sudden flash of orange and yellow caught my attention as Matthias set fire to his wood pile.

We were almost out of time.

I pushed harder, trying to speed things up, when I heard another sound like cannon fire. I looked up to see what they had done to Wesley, and quickly realized that it was cannon fire. A group of six German tanks were coming right past our position, accompanied by a few dozen soldiers on foot. It was just what we needed – a distraction. Magnus kept an eye on Wesley while Matthias began tearing through the soldiers in a blur, throwing tanks through the woods like they were tin cans. I sharpened my focus, urging every cell in Coraline's broken spine to reattach itself. Things finally began to reconnect as Matthias continued slaughtering the humans, and I heard Coraline gasp as she regained a little feeling in her legs.

"That's it, Grant," she whispered, "I can almost move them..."

Faster and faster I pushed, opening back up the avenue of signal transfers, until things were fully operational again. I heard Coraline's legs move as she tested them out.

"Alright, I think I can run again," She whispered, trying not to alert Magnus, whose back was fortunately turned toward us.

"Okay," I replied, trying to develop a distraction plan in my head, "then go. Hurry!"

She let go of my hand and rose stealthily to her feet. Matthias was two hundred yards away fighting the humans, Magnus was thirty yards away watching Wesley. With all the commotion, she should be able to get a decent head start before they noticed she was gone. I readied myself to become an obstacle, and in an instant, my plan went out the window.

She began running toward the brothers.

She wasn't trying to escape – she was trying to fight. A flurry of thoughts rushed through my head as I watched her bolt across the clearing toward Magnus, and out of the mess of emotions and strategies, I came to one conclusion – if she was going to go down fighting, then she was going to need my help. I scurried along the ground with my arms, reaching out as far as I possibly could with my ability as she sped toward him. I didn't have much time – she closed the gap between them in less than two seconds – but I was able to get just enough of a bearing on him to slow his reflexes a little, and a little was all we needed. Coraline jumped at him, covering the last ten yards in the air as she landed on his back and dug her teeth through his unsuspecting neck, taking his head completely off before he had the chance to react. Matthias heard the screeching noise of the attack and turned just in time to see Wesley throw Magnus' head into the fire that he had just built. A plume of purplish-black smoke billowed out of the flames, and the decapitated body fell lifelessly to the ground. By the time Matthias started back in our direction, I had caught up to Wesley and Coraline, pulling myself up with their help. The three of us stood together, bodies crouched, ready to take down the other twin. He paused in his approach, his eyes flickering back and forth across the three of us, and then, much to our surprise, he turned and ran, disappearing into the trees. As soon as he was out of sight, I collapsed back to the ground, gaining a little relief from the constant throbbing in both my legs. I didn't get to sit for long.

"Alright, listen up – we need to move fast," Wesley commanded as he picked up his arm and began reassembling himself. "The whole group of Icelanders is on their way – eight or nine of them – and they're all looking for a fight. They could be here any moment. Cor, you and Grant head southwest and try to intercept Harriet, and whatever you do, don't go back to the pond."

"Wait, aren't you coming too?" She asked with a slightly irritated tone.

"I'm going after Matthias."

"Why? He's running away. We should all go find Harriet together."

"He's not running away, Cor, he's regrouping. I should have known last time. They were tracking me the whole way back from visiting Hagar – that's how they got the jump on me, and that's why we can't go back to the pond."

"But, he's just one vampire. He's not going to try anything..."

"Maybe not today, but he'll come back. As long as he's out there, we can never be safe. You don't know him like I do, Cor. He won't give up. This has to end today."
"Wesley, we need to stay together. Going after him alone is stupid."

"It's not up for debate, Cor. I'm going. Now, how bad is the house? Can we meet back there?"
"It's a crater. Definitely out of the question," she replied firmly. "I do have an idea, though... there's a huge tree all alone on a hill about twenty miles southwest of the house. It's right on the other side of that crest where we used to go and throw rocks. You remember the place I'm talking about?"

"Yeah, I think I know where you mean," Wesley responded.

"Grant and I were there earlier tonight. Let's meet back there."

"Alright, that'll work. I'll meet you there after sundown. Once you get Harriet, just lay low for the daylight and we'll get out of here once it's dark. Oh, and Cor... if I'm not back by six o'clock, you three leave without me."

"Wesley..."

"Good luck, mates." And with that, he bolted off after Matthias, disappearing quickly into the thick forest.

"We'd better get going," Coraline said with a sigh as she lifted me effortlessly into her arms, " I swear sometimes... I don't think he could be more hard-headed."

Coraline set off running through the hills toward Frankfurt, carrying me as if I weighed nothing at all. She said she didn't mind it, but I knew it was slowing her...us down, so I did whatever I could to remedy the situation quickly. I worked within my ability to heal my wounds faster, concentrating first on the broken femur bone in my right leg. That one was easy – just a clean break to patch back together. The knee was another problem altogether. All the bones and cartilage had been crushed and broken into so many pieces; it would take a while to get it all sorted out and functional again. I wished in that moment that Matthias had simply torn my leg off – at least that way I could reassemble myself faster. And it would hurt a lot less.

After a few minutes, my right leg was as good as new, and I turned my attention to the mess in my knee. Before I got too far into the process, though, we ran into a problem. A big problem. Eight big problems, to be exact. The Icelanders were on the horizon, moving in a pack through the snowy terrain. We stopped dead in our tracks and moved for cover, trying to escape detection. It didn't work. They spotted us right after we spotted them, and all eight of them changed course and rushed toward us. Once again, we were on the run for our lives, only this time, I wasn't running. Coraline sprinted westward, taking us back toward Malmedy and the warring humans. She began developing a plan as we moved through the rolling hills.

"If we keep up this pace, we should be able to reach the humans before they catch up to us. Maybe we can slip in and hide in the battles. Of course, we'll have to find cover as soon as the sun comes out, but it'll give us a chance. How's that leg coming?"

"Almost done," I lied. It was still far from healed, but I wasn't willing to slow her down once we broke through to the humans. I would find a way to move on my own. I looked back over my shoulder to check on the Icelanders. They were catching up to us quickly, only a few hundred yards away now. If they caught us, it was all over. I couldn't let that happen.

"Coraline, you have to set me down," I spoke pleadingly as the Icelanders continued to gain on us, "you're not going to make it. I can slow them down, give you a chance to escape..."

"What? No! No, no way. I won't let you do that."

"Coraline, please... don't throw your life away. We're not going to make it..."

"I'm not leaving you," she said with iron determination. "Either we make it out together or we die together. Those are the only two options."

I pulled all my focus back in on my knee, working feverishly to repair it in time. The pain was still immense, but it was bearable. I just needed my leg to be able to move well enough. We topped another hill and saw the military camp, which had been erected overnight in the shadow of the little village of Malmedy.

"How's the knee now?" Coraline asked me, almost as if she'd read my thoughts.

"It's fine. You can drop me as soon as we hit the camp."

"Are you sure? I can still carry you..."

"There's no time. We have to mingle in there and get out of sight fast. It'll be easier if we move separately."

"Alright, but stick close, okay? And don't do anything brave – just stay alive. I need you to stay alive, alright?"

"I'll do my best," I said, half-lying. I would do my best to keep Coraline alive, whatever it took. My own well-being was secondary.

The smell of hundreds of humans clustered together reached our nostrils as we crossed the last hill and prepared to infiltrate the camp. My body yearned for fresh human blood – most likely to aid in healing myself. It was a powerful craving, quite distracting; it took a lot of effort to suppress it. Great, I thought to myself as the smell became stronger, the last thing I need is another thing to concentrate on.

Coraline placed me onto the ground swiftly, but gently, as we reached the edge of the camp. A rush of searing pain flooded my knee like alcohol on a fresh wound, causing me to stumble slightly with my first few steps. The pain was far greater than I had anticipated, but the knee worked. I struggled to keep up with Coraline as we ran through the fading night and slipped into the camp behind a cluster of tents. I checked the sky again – it was dangerously close to sunrise, twenty minutes at most. We would have to find a way out of here soon, but for the moment we were safe. At least that's what I thought.

And then I heard the shouting.

I peeked my head around the corner of the gray tent to see what was happening, and panic set in immediately. The Icelanders were ransacking the entire camp, setting tents and soldiers on fire, trying to flush us out. I pulled my head back behind the tent, my mental wheels spinning.

"Coraline..."

"We've gotta move. I know. Do you think we can make it to the other side of the camp?"

"We have to try."

We kept low to the ground and snuck through the chaotic blur of men and metal as we tried to navigate safely to the far side of the site. From what I could see, it seemed to be some kind of temporary prison camp. The captors probably thought this whole mess was a jailbreak. Of course, it was the prisoner population that was being attacked the most heavily. Those Icelanders must have wanted us badly; this sort of blatant aggression against a large human population was a major departure from accepted vampire practice. We stumbled through masses of people running around like ants on a scattered anthill. Some fired weapons at us, others tried in vain to follow us, but most ignored us altogether. I looked back to see what was happening behind us, and half the camp was on fire. The smell of spilled human blood was oppressive in my nostrils as we worked our way through the crowd – it took real discipline to keep from losing control and gorging myself on it.

Once we got through the bulk of the mob, we spotted our next cover – a large empty personnel carrier. Coraline pointed it out, and I followed, still in excruciating pain with every step. We pulled up next to the truck and snuck around to the back side, and, as if things couldn't get any worse, we were greeted by yet another surprise. A short, stocky figure ran into me as we turned the corner, knocking me off balance onto my rump as I fell to the ground. He began shouting things at me in some unknown language as several of his friends made an entrance, leaping from the shadows and taking an aggressive stance toward us. More vampires.

"O, great, the Greeks," Coraline said, quoting the thought from my head verbatim as we slowly backpedaled.

"Do you know any Greek?" I asked quickly as the newcomer's shouting became more intense.

"I know enough to know that he's not too happy with us..."

One of the others behind the shouting man spoke up in English, "You Icelander pigs! You think you can just come in here and steal our herd?"

"No, no, we're not Icelanders," I said hurriedly, "We're running from them, they're trying to kill us. We're friends of Wesley's"

"I told you to stay away from us," a booming bass voice said as a tall, bearded vampire stepped forward from the back of the group. "I told you we didn't want you here – we didn't want you to lead them here. You ignorant fools! Do you see what you've done? I should kill you myself."

We continued to back up, stepping closer to the sea of burning tents and bodies. We could feel the heat of the flames on our backs as we retreated, knowing all too well that there were eight vampires behind us that would gladly kill us. I reached out and grabbed Coraline's hand, maybe for the last time, and prepared for evasive maneuvers. There was nowhere to run, and no hope to win a fight. Our only chance was to try and survive in the crossfire long enough to escape, and it was a slim hope at best. We heard the snarls of the Icelanders behind us as they stalked forward, now fully aware of the nine Greek vampires in front of us. Both sides opened up with a barrage of verbal attacks, hurling profanity-laced insults and taunts as they positioned themselves within twenty yards of either side of us. The insults quickly gave way to death threats, growls and bared teeth. Any chance of diplomacy was long gone. The battle was on, and we were helplessly caught up in the middle of it.

"Coraline," I said softly as the Greeks lowered into their attack stances, ready to match the advances of the Icelanders.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

And the monsters descended upon us.

21. CHAOS

IT'S HARD TO DESCRIBE THE INTENSITY OF THE ENSUING BATTLE

for the simple reason that human-based language just doesn't have verbiage for the kind of unbridled violence in a large-scale vampire conflict. The most impressive thing was the sound. There was a continual roar of thunderclap-level explosions as limbs clashed against bodies, mixing with the shrieking torn-metal sound of combatants being bitten or dismembered. And then, of course, there were the screams – some were shouts of rage, others, cries of pain, still others were wails of grief over a fallen comrade. The whole thing melded together into a horrific cacophony, like a fleet of ocean liners had been thrown into a giant blender. That was the sound that engulfed the little valley town of Malmedy as the two warring clans clashed with each other, leaving two neutral parties trapped in the middle.

We hit the ground as the Greeks leaped forward, crashing into the Icelanders mid-air with a deafening boom. The bodies fell to the ground in both directions, several of which were frighteningly near our position. We tried to move out of the way, but everywhere we turned, there were vampires locked into battle, sending each other reeling to the ground or flying through the air. No sooner had we risen to a crouch to crawl away than a body came flying at us, knocking Coraline to the ground with tremendous force. I pulled the living projectile off of her, only to have his razor-sharp teeth slice across my arm like a machete. The confused vampire began to fight me, while his attacker started grappling with Coraline. I tried to reason with the anonymous vampire as he surged at me rabidly.

"Hey, I'm not trying to fight you! Listen! I'm a neutral party – I don't mean you any harm..." But it was no use. The smallish vampire – Greek or Icelander, I had no idea – was thrashing at me like a madman. I did my best to defend myself, blocking fists and feet, while struggling to keep his bared teeth away from my body. He was so furious that his coordination was severely impaired, and even with my injured knee (which still throbbed with an unrelenting pain) I was able to get the better of him, eventually turning him around and torquing his arm with such force that it broke completely off. The vampire shrieked as he lost his limb, falling to the ground in pain. I borrowed from the Michelson's playbook and struck him with his own limb, sending him rolling across the ground back into the rest of the melee. I tossed the arm aside and looked for Coraline – she was nowhere near me. I became frantic, searching through the widening battleground for her, while trying to avoid getting caught up in another pointless fight. I received an unintentional kick to the midsection that sent me flying to the far side of the cluster of fights, and when I got up, I finally spotted her. She was alive, her limbs were still connected, but she was engaged in an intense battle with the same vampire she had been fighting earlier.

I started trying to make my way through the sea of warring bodies to get to her, running across the burning battlefield like a man possessed. Anyone who came in my way went flying in another direction – I was getting her out of here, and nothing was going to stop me. At least that's what I thought. Two Icelanders grabbed me from behind, one on each arm, and jerked me back with such intensity that my left shoulder became disjointed. I reset it quickly once I hit the ground, unable to mount a defense as they pounced on me. I swung my arms and legs wildly, connecting with something along the way as I tried to buy myself some time. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one trying to fight them. The tall Greek with the low voice that had spoken to us earlier grabbed one of my attackers from behind, snapping her neck as he twisted it around and tossed her aside. The other Icelander tackled the tall Greek, and I used the opportunity to make my escape. I glanced around for Coraline again, wincing as I heard an ear-piercing scream to my left. I looked in time to see a dismembered Greek burst into flame as her body was thrown into one of the burning tents surrounding us. The battle was getting serious – if I didn't get to Coraline quickly, that could be her in the fire.

I turned my attention back to the search, scanning the blur of fists and faces for hers, and ran across something I didn't expect. Coming across a high ridge to the east were six shadowy figures, all in identical robes that covered their heads and reached to the ground. All the robes were the same shade of charcoal gray except for one, which stood on the end. This one was taller than all the rest – much taller, and his or her robe was midnight black. They were moving at superhuman speed, gliding over the ground like they were running on air. Behind the six were two others, dressed in normal clothing. I looked at them more closely, still trying to avoid being sucked into another battle, and for the first time all night, I felt relief. It was Philippe – and Harriet. They had finally arrived with reinforcements.

The six robed figures came to a halt three hundred yards from the battlefield, lined up in formation as Philippe came to a stop in front of them. He spoke to them, pointing out something with his arm before stepping aside.

And then he unleashed them.

Two of the figures moved out ahead of the rest – a small, short one, and the very tall one with the black robe. They were nearly on top of the warring vampires before anyone else noticed them, and by then, it was too late. I felt a strange sense of disorientation, something like dizziness, as the two figures approached. The sensation was inescapable – I stumbled across the burning prison camp, trying to distance myself from the combatants, but it was hard to walk or see straight. The Mongolian, I thought to myself, remembering Welsey's description of Philippe's personal bodyguards. If that's him, then the other one must be... and he confirmed it before I could think it. It was Mbete. The tall vampire in all black reached into his robe as he leaped across the flames into the melee, pulling out a huge two-sided axe. The cylindrical center of the axehead ignited in flames as he spun it around in a large arc and brought it down on one of the Icelanders, slicing cleanly through her upper body like it was made of butter. The stricken vampire immediately burst into flames, her severed pieces writhing violently on the ground as they were swiftly consumed by the fire. The huge attacker wasted no time on the fallen Icelander, swinging his axe through the neck of the dazed Greek that had just been fighting the one that was burning in pieces on the ground.

I watched in awe and horror as Mbete swept through the battlefield, swinging his flaming axe through body after body. The Mongolian followed closely behind, covering the African's flank and disorienting his victims to make them easy targets. The other four robed vampires followed several steps behind these two, finishing off whatever was left of the burning victims. I moved around to the far side of the battleground, coming closer to the town, and tried to wave down Harriet or Philippe. I didn't want to be mistaken as one of the Greeks or Icelanders.

Mbete continued to massacre the warring clans as they began to spread out, running for their lives. I scanned the cluster for Coraline, but everything was moving so quickly it was hard to recognize anything. I wasn't too worried – I knew Philippe must have given strict instructions not to harm Coraline, but it would make me feel better if I could find her and know that she was okay. I searched back across the scrambling vampires and finally spotted her – she was safe, she was making her way back to Harriet and Philippe on the ridge. I exhaled deeply in relief as I started to make my way over to join them, still dizzy from the Mongolian's influence.

And then I was flying.

Confusion rushed through my mind as I traveled several hundred yards through the air away from the battleground. What's happening, where am I going? My confusion intensified as I landed on the snowy ground just a few hundred yards from the paved central street of Malmedy. My momentum carried me across the frozen field, sliding to a gradual stop just fifty feet from the first house on the road. I clamored to my feet, trying to regain my bearings before I felt a hand grab my shirt and thrust me back again, this time sending me crashing into the corner of a small house. I struggled to get back on my feet, and this time I saw him, walking toward me with determination, head down, face in a steely glare.

It was Matthias.

"Surprise!" He said with one lifted eyebrow as he grabbed me by the neck and threw me back again, this time colliding with the small village bakery. The Mongolian's dizziness, which had worn off as we traveled further away from the prison camp, was replaced by a swimming sea of colors as Matthias sent me flying through the storefront window and onto the brick road in front of it.

"Go ahead," he taunted as he walked up to me, kicking me in the head so hard that everything went black for a moment, "try to use your little trick on me now!"

He kicked me again, this time in the chest. I felt ribs crack as I absorbed the blow, sliding down the street on the icy snow. I slipped trying to get back on my feet, and he grabbed me again, throwing me with all his might into the stone cathedral where we had attended church so many times before. I knocked a hole through the solid wall, causing part of the building to crumble around me. Matthias was on me in a flash, one hand on my shirt collar, the other clenched in a fist. He struck me with all his might, sending a fresh wave of blurry colors across my vision.

"Come on," he growled, "slow me down." He hit me again, knocking my head back against the building's foundation. "I have an ability, too." he sneered as he pounded me again. "Oh, did Wesley not tell you? I can sample someone's ability when I touch them, and once I sample it, I can block it." He struck me again, chuckling as I writhed in pain. "Well, I'm touching you now."

He pounded me again and again. I could feel the integrity of my skull failing, temporarily drowning out the pain in my knee which was still present. I searched my dazed mind for a way out, desperate to escape his grasp. Luckily, he helped me out.

"This is for Lief!" he shouted as he lifted me by my legs and threw me against a corner of the small sanctuary, causing the entire building to groan and rumble. "And this," he growled as he lifted me by my hair, "this is for Magnus!" He grabbed my midsection to throw me into the wall again, but this time, I was able to sneak my leg in for a kick to his face. It disrupted his aim just enough as he let go of me, and instead of hitting the stone wall, I went crashing through the large stained glass window at the back of the church. I scrambled to my feet, still somewhat dazed, and ran for my life.

I had no idea what direction I was running in; I only knew it was away from him. He leaped through the broken window, chasing me on foot with intense fury in his eyes. I knew he was too strong for me to fight off, I had to outrun him. The problem with that plan was my knee, which was healing gradually, but still far from pain free. I paid little attention to the trees and rocks in my way as I ran through the dark forest, placing all my focus on healing my knee. I glanced back at him, and he was catching up with me ever so slowly. I knew I was faster than him with a healthy knee, but I didn't know if I had time to fix it.

I ran further and further into the dense woods, trying to buy enough time to find a way to escape. After another glance back, concern turned to panic; he was less than ten feet behind me. Despair began to fill me as I accepted my fate.

I was going to die.

He was too fast, too strong, too determined. Sooner or later, he would catch me and rip me apart, laughing as he did it. I didn't think myself a failure, though, even in the shadow of my own doom. I had taken the monster far away, far enough to give the ones I loved the chance to escape. They would make it out, find new adventures, form new stories, share new loves. That thought was the salve that eased my pain, the calm before the execution. I was losing my life to give them theirs. I was going to have my good death after all.

I was determined to take Matthias as far away from Coraline and Harriet as possible. I could endure the lessening pain in my knee – I wasn't giving up yet. I ran with all my might, keeping both legs churning ahead as I traveled due west. A faint hint of morning red and orange was beginning to color the trees as I passed them by – it was almost sunrise. Before long we would both be out of time. The clouds were nowhere to be seen, opening the way for plentiful sunshine to bounce off every frozen surface in sight. I pointed my focus back to my knee, when suddenly a familiar sensation grabbed my attention.

I was starting to feel the slightest bit dizzy.

I pushed ahead, but the dizziness increased. The Mongolian... I surged ahead, just feet from Matthias' grasp. If he's behind us... I glanced back to the east, turning just in time to save my life. In a split second I reacted, jumping out of the way and rolling across the snowy ground. I watched out of the corner of my eye as a familiar, flaming axe ripped a hole right through my pursuer, splitting him in two from neck to naval. He stumbled forward without a sound, falling to a heap on the ground as a plume of purple-tinted smoke came billowing from his flaming body. Matthias was dead. I was saved.

I sat in shock for a moment, still trying to relax from my earlier state of panic. Mbete and the Mongolian came over to the burning body, making sure he was completely finished. I just sat there, letting my throbbing knee rest. Waves of relief washed over me. It's over. It's finally over. And not a moment too soon... I looked back to the eastern horizon – the first rays of sunlight were just beginning to sneak over the distant hills. Hopefully there's a safe path back to Coraline and the others.

I watched the two hunters as they inspected the burning body, their robes torn and filthy. At least someone put up a fight, I thought as I stood up to walk home. And then I noticed something confusing – and somewhat frightening. I was suddenly dizzy again. Powerfully dizzy. I looked over at the hunters, trying to understand what was going on. The Mongolian was staring at me, his eyes narrowed, his mouth in a straight line. That doesn't look good... I glanced over at Mbete – he stooped down in the distance and picked up his axe, flipping a switch on it as a flame reappeared atop it. The huge African began to walk toward me, flaming axe in hand, and when he was less than a hundred yards away from me, I came to understand what was going on. He threw it at me. I had only a split-second to react, lunging to the side as best I could in my disoriented state. The flying axe blade grazed my right hip, making the familiar metallic noise as it tore through my skin. Both hunters rushed toward me as soon as they realized the attack had missed. Fear surged through my veins like ice-water.

They weren't here to save me – they were here to kill me.

I scrambled to my feet in a panic, trying to reason with them as I stumbled through the dense forest.

"Hey, wait! I'm not the guy you want! I'm innocent!"

They said nothing, their faces calm and statuesque. The Mongolian followed me as Mbete went to once again retrieve his tooth-bladed axe. I tried with all my might to fight away the dizziness, but I was powerless against it. So I ran. Since my knee was nearly healed, I decided to divert all my ability to speeding up my legs. I ran through the trees and rocks like a bolt of lightening, fueled by pure desperation. I had come too far to die today – I had to find a way out. Gradually the dizziness began to wear off, allowing me to pick up my pace. Once I felt that I could sneak a look back without losing my balance, I peaked over my shoulder. Much to my relief, the Mongolian was losing ground. His 5'5" stride just couldn't keep up with mine. I pulled ahead faster as the cloudiness in my equilibrium cleared. I was going to make it. I looked back again to see how far ahead I'd gotten, and this time my hope faded back to despair. Mbete was back, and he was pulling ahead of the Mongolian. I checked back again fifteen seconds later – he was gaining on me rapidly. I pushed ahead, willing my body to go faster than it had ever been, faster than it was ever meant to go. I could feel the muscles and ligaments quiver under the stress as they neared their breaking point. The laws of physics were catching up to me – I simply couldn't go any faster. My concentration continued to intensify, causing everything else to fade around the edges as I flew through the thinning forest. I looked back again, and he was even closer, his face still as unemotional as ever. I couldn't outrun him. A new dose of despair was about to set in as I watched him close in on me, but something soft in the distance gave me hope. I could hear the sound of fighting – cannons, firearms, shouting, explosions... we were nearing the humans' battleground. My mind raced as my legs pushed me forward, just out of the African's reach. The sun was beginning to shine through the trees, covering my hands and face in a radiant shimmering glow. I looked back again at Mbete. His robe was loosely pinned around his torso, the hood blown back from the resistance of the wind as he chased me down.

I had a plan.

I turned toward the sound of the fighting, pooling all my hope and determination and love together as the fuel to drive me forward. The sounds grew louder as he closed in on me; I could smell the scent of fresh blood wafting through the chilly morning air – we were almost there. The muscles in my legs stretched and strained under the pressure, threatening to buckle with every step. Just a little bit longer, Grant. Keep it together just a little bit longer.

I readied myself as I neared the large clearing where the fighting was taking place. There was only one chance at this – it was a slim, fleeting hope of a chance, but it was all I had. I had to make it count. I surveyed the battlefield that opened out like an endless ocean in front of me. The field was full of warring soldiers, fighting and dying in their trivial skirmish, completely oblivious to the two killing machines rushing toward them. The morning sun cast rays of light all across the frozen battlefield, bouncing off the snow and ice like a billion tiny mirrors. It was the brightest thing I'd seen in months. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of humans in that field, bundled up in drab gray and green coats, many of which were covered in mud and snow. The scene was set – all I had to do was play my part.

I glanced back one more time as we closed within a half-mile of the clearing. Mbete was reaching back for his axe, which had been strapped on his back. I was about to suffer the same fate as Matthias. Oh, God! Hurry, hurry! Come on, legs, just a little bit more...

I surged forward, legs screaming in pain. I could feel individual strands begin to tear and snap.

Seven hundred yards.

Mbete loosened the straps around his axe, pulling it out in front of him. Run, Grant! Come on!

Four Hundred yards.

Every step brought the pain of a thousand knives stabbing my legs. More muscle strands tore. The ligaments in my knees and ankles began to lose the battle against anatomy and physiology, threatening to snap and send me rolling head over heels.

Three hundred yards.

Do not quit, Grant. You can do this.

Two hundred yards.

The hunter raised his axe, steadying his aim.

One hundred yards.

His arm cocked back, ready to release.

Fifty yards.

His muscles flexed, his arm began moving forward.

Thirty yards.

For Coraline, Grant. Do it for her.

It was time. I dug my heels into the icy ground and came to an abrupt stop, leaning to the side as the huge African collided with me, narrowly missing me with the path of his axe. My fingers reached out for my salvation, my one faint hope. I could feel it brush against them as it passed by, soft – much softer than I had expected – flowing, shifting. I poured all my energy and hope and life into those fingers, and at the very last moment, they grabbed hold of the goal. Mbete's black robe came flowing after me as I fell to the ground, my fists clenching onto it so tightly they nearly tore holes through it. My movement, my form was flawless, a miracle of agility and precision. I rolled across the ground, carrying my momentum with me into a dead run as I shifted back onto my feet. Mbete jumped up, shirtless, axe in hand. He finally had an expression on that stoic face – surprise, anger, frustration. He knew what I was doing, but he couldn't stop me. With more speed than should have been physically possible, I darted through the tree line, wrapping the black robe around my head and hands and running into the blazing sunlight. Mbete pulled up at the edge of the woods, unwilling to expose his vampire identity in front of the thousands of humans that were busy killing each other in the field. I wasn't taking any chances. I kept running, torn muscles and all, passing through battle lines and flying bullets, making my own path through the cluttered mess of bodies. It was another chaotic scene, but this time, I was in control. This time, I was safe. I picked up the body of a fallen German soldier and carried it with me as I flashed across the battlefield, nothing more than a black blur to the feeble human eyes that noticed me.

After a few jubilant minutes of running, I found a hiding place, quickly burrowing myself underneath a crippled tank. I sank my teeth into the dead soldier, feeling a flood of relief wash through me as his still-warm blood filled my veins, and dressed myself in his uniform when I was finished. The battle raged around me, but I didn't care – it couldn't touch me. I laid under the tank, perfectly still, and waited patiently for the sun to go down, counting my blessings.

I was safe. Coraline was safe. We made it.

22. RENDEZVOUS

THE HOURS PASSED BY LIKE EONS AS I HID UNDER MY TANK,

listening to the Germans and Americans kill each other. There has been so much death today... too much death. The Michelson's, the Icelanders, the Greeks, not to mention the countless dead soldiers in the prison camp – every life destroyed. And for what? Revenge? Bitterness? Misunderstanding? It's far too high a price to pay for the inability for two people groups to get along. And what about Wesley? He was following Matthias earlier... did he lose the trail? He certainly wouldn't abandon us... did he find Matthias and fight him? Did he lose? The questions floated around in my head like flies on an apple pie, pestering, persistent. I didn't really have much else to do with my time.

The daylight in Belgium was scarce in the winter, providing about eight hours a day in December. Even with the earth's rotation in my favor, it was a long day. I peeked out periodically, growing anxious as the shadows of the evening light became longer. As soon as the sun was safely out of play, I climbed out from under my hiding place, moving as stealthily as possible across the now-quiet battlefield and back to the cover of the forest.

It took me a while to regain my bearings – I hadn't really been paying attention to where I was going when I ran away from Matthias and Mbete earlier. After a moment of calculations, I headed east, taking a slightly different route back to Malmedy. I was fairly confident that Mbete and the Mongolian had given up their search for me, but I didn't want to take any unnecessary chances.

It took me nearly an hour of trial and error, but eventually I spotted the little mountain village that had been my home for the last year. Smoldering fires still burned in the distance, the only remnants of the epic vampire battle that had taken place just hours before. Obviously someone had gone to a lot of trouble to clean things up.

I took the long way around the town, staying on the higher ridges to the north, and headed back to the rendezvous point. There was something surreal about returning there after the day's events. Was it really just last night that Coraline and I were sitting there, carefree, blissfully unaware of the wars and grudges and violence around us? Did I really kiss her? I remembered the sweetness of her lips as I closed in on the lonely tree on the little hill. Tenderness seemed so out of place in my mind, given the life-and-death panic I had been immersed in for hours; and yet, there it was, warming my insides like a cup of hot tea. I couldn't wait to see Coraline again... and Wesley and Harriet, of course, but mostly Coraline. We had so much to talk about, so much to do together.

Warm, rosy thoughts danced through my head as I crossed the final ridge and descended into the valley leading up to the tree. I didn't see anyone there – I was the first one to arrive. I slowed my pace to a walk, taking in the sights and sounds of the forest as I came up to the tree. The whole scene was just as poetically beautiful as I had remembered it. At least there was one mental image from the last twenty-four hours that I wanted to keep.

I walked around to the other side of the large tree to have a seat and wait for my friends, and just as I was about to sit down, I saw something out of place in the dirty snow. A small piece of paper lay on the ground, folded unevenly. I stooped down and picked it up, simultaneously curious and concerned as I unfolded it and began to read the cluster of words scrawled in black ink.

Grant,

I hope you find this letter, and that you're okay.

I don't have much time, so let me cut straight to the point. Harriet and I have been summoned to Volterra for questioning. They know what she can do- I think it's the only reason we're still alive.

We don't know where Wesley is. I'm afraid he might be dead. Everything's a mess right now. Sorry I can't give you more details.

I know you won't understand, but please, please don't come after me. Please stay away. I can't explain it, but trust me, it's the only way. Maybe things will change someday, but for now, you have to stay far away from me.

Please, Grant.

Sorry again!

Sorry...

-Coraline

I slid down the side of the tree slowly, resting on the ground as I read the note again and again. Volterra? How did they find out? And why do I have to stay away? I don't understand...

I sat there for what felt like hours, shocked, perplexed, numb. Was I wrong to think she cared for me? Just because Harriet thought she saw something doesn't mean there was a real attraction there. Maybe she wanted to start over in Volterra, stop running and hiding. No, she loathed Volterra and all that it stood for. She wouldn't go there willingly. At least it didn't seem that way. And she kissed back when I kissed her last night. That wasn't just out of courtesy. Surely she had feelings for me... Maybe someone was twisting her arm, forcing her to leave.

I knew who that someone must be, and my anger burned. Philippe. This has got to be his doing... Or maybe she's in danger... maybe she asked me to stay away to protect me from something... I juggled the options in my mind, dejected and confused as a cloud cover returned overhead, blanketing the forest in darkness. The weather seemed to be an extension of my mood as I warred with myself, unsure of whether to oblige her requests or rush in to save her from some new enemy.

Neither solution sounded good.

What have I done to deserve this? I just wanted a peaceful, simple life with the people I love. And now they're asking me to 'please stay away?' Surely there's something else going on here...

As I sat there debating my future, a tall, slender figure emerged from the shadows, skimming swiftly across the snowy ground to meet me. It's way past the six o'clock deadline we decided on for the rendezvous – It shouldn't be anyone from the family. But then, no one else knew about our location, so who could this be? Could it be Coraline? Did she have a change of heart? Did she send someone to get me?

The mysterious vampire crossed the valley without a sound as I pondered his or her identity, painfully hopeful. I stood to my feet as the figure approached, a mixture of relief and worry swirling in my head as I studied the visitor's face – a face who's expressions mirrored mine.

EPILOGUE:

HAWKINS

"GRANT! THANK GOD YOU'RE ALRIGHT. ARE YOU ALONE?"

Wesley's familiar voice was both soothing and disturbing – there was more than a hint of stress in his words.

"Y-yes... I'm alone. And you – are you okay? I ran into Matthias – I didn't know if..."

"I'm fine. Well, physically, at least. Are you sure no one followed you here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I've been here all alone for... well, I don't know how long, but it's been a while. If you're looking for Harriet and Coraline -"

"No, I know. They're not here. Everything's a bloody train wreck right now... uhg! Stupid Volturi..."

"What – what happened with Coraline and Harriet? Did you meet up with them?"

"No. I lost Matthias' trail after we split up, and got caught up in the middle of a stupid skirmish with the humans. By the time I snuck my way out, the trail was totally washed out by the smell of blood."

He sighed, glancing around nervously before continuing. "Okay, so about the girls... I'm gonna have to give you the abbreviated version, 'cause we really don't have time, alright? Hattie found Philippe last night and told him about the whole situation. He knew his bodyguards wouldn't be enough, so he called in backup from Berlin and Paris."

"Yeah," I interjected, "I remember seeing four other vampires with Philippe and the bodyguards."

"That's what took him so long to show up. He tried to take care of the whole thing off-book, but the contacts in Paris called it in to Volterra, and they have their own way of dealing with things. The official order was to kill everyone – Greeks, Icelanders, bystanders, humans... everyone."

"By 'everyone', you mean..."

"Yeah, all of us, too. Good thing for me I got lost. Philippe tried to finish business before the Volturi got there, but Demetri was too fast. The big guys sent him to make sure things were cleaned up properly."

"Wait – how do you know all this?"

"I have a source. Not everyone's as loyal as you think."

"Okay... so what happened to the girls?"

"According to Demetri's orders, Coraline and Harriet were supposed to be 'taken care of' as well, but Philippe convinced him to spare them, since they both have useful abilities."

"And what about you and me? Where does that leave us?"

"That's where the rub comes in. Philippe didn't know you existed – Coraline always kept it that way. By the time she got to him, he had already sent his goons after you."

"But, she put in a good word for me, right?"

"Apparently it wasn't enough. That's why I came here – to warn you. You're wanted. Dead. There's a standing order for the Volturi Guard to kill you on sight."

A flash of panic swept over me as I tried to wrap my mind around the news. I was already stretched so thin, I couldn't take any more drama.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"Like I said, the official order was to kill everyone involved. Plus, you pulled that whole stunt running out onto a battlefield full of humans. Not saying it wasn't a good move, but they're pretty peeved about it in Volterra."

"But... I didn't do anything... nobody saw me."

"I know, mate, I know. I'm gonna try to work something out, but for now, you've got to get as far away from here as possible. And I mean far."

Coraline's words flashed back across my memory: 'you have to stay far away from me.' She knew what was going on – she was trying to protect me. Wesley continued.

"You've got at least one thing going for you – nobody knows you. They've got your name, and a general description of you based on what Mbete and the Mongolian remember of you from the chase, and that's it. Running through the battlefield was brilliant – it totally masked your scent. I've gotta tell you, though, Demetri – the guy the Volturi sent to clean up – his tracking skills are off the charts. If he sees you or smells you, or anything else like that, you're a dead man."

I was so emotionally drained I had no room to react anymore. I was just numb. That's all I could manage.

"So, what do I do now?" I asked, hoping for an easy answer. Wesley pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"I've got a friend, someone who's good at making people disappear. As soon as we're done talking, you go straight to him – don't stop for anyone or anything – just run as fast as you can, and stay out of sight. The number to the bank account is on the other side of the card. Use whatever you need – it's secure. Stay low – as soon as I can get things worked out, I'll contact you." He patted me on the shoulder, looking me squarely in the eyes. "Good luck, mate," he said solemnly, and turned to leave.

"Wait – what about you? What are you going to do?"

He turned, pausing slightly. "I'm gonna get my girl back," he said with a smirk before he darted off, disappearing quickly into the distance.

I stood there for a moment; stunned, numb. Alone again, I thought to myself, staring blankly into the night. I glanced down at the card in my hand.

- Hawkins -

la Luna Diamente, Havana

( ask for Emilio )

I looked up at the sky again, shoving the card into my pocket. There were no stars tonight, only clouds, stretched out endlessly in every direction. One final wistful sigh escaped my mouth as I pulled myself together. There was no one to help me. I was alone. Painfully, desperately alone. I said a mental goodbye to the last year of my life – the failures, the triumphs, the laughter, the love – I put it all behind me.

And I started running.