The Snow Always Melts

by MasterVishous-Shellan

Vampire/werewolf take on Romeo and Juliet with a twist...enjoy...

I guess I should start at the beginning. That way you'll understand a whole lot better. Ok, let's see. What should I start with? I guess I should start with the past. It all started one fierce Romanian winter. The war had been raging on for several days and casualties were heavy on both sides. And I'm not talking about a human war. The wars humans have fought are only schoolyard brawls compared to what we can do. I'm talking about the supernatural. A war between what humans regard as myths…legends….folklore, told only to frighten children into behaving. But believe me when I tell you, that these creatures of myth, most of them, are real. My tale tells of a war between two species equal in power, status and brute strength. Werewolves. Vampires. So, anyway.

It was 1214 and the noise was thunderous, though it hardly carried over the howling wind and violent thunder. The turbulent black storm clouds grew more foreboding, growling and roaring, mirroring exactly the scene below. In the depths of the Carpathian Mountains the snow was crimson, red rivers creating a melted path through the initially white ice carpet, pure and deep. Sweat and blood saturated the frozen ground as claws gouged deep wounds in the opposition and enemy fangs tore fur and flesh. Howls and war screams sang through the night.

Under the cover of trees and a vicious blizzard, they fought, proud warriors, beasts. The deciduous trees, covered heavily in diamond pure snow, watched in still amazement as the predators tore into each other. A stag wandered unnoticed, so caught up in their hatred were the combatants that they ignored the ideal prey and focused all their hunting senses on each other. Blue, feral eyes clashed with the inhuman red of its adversary, before it was gripped in a steel lock at the scruff of its neck and flung across the clearing. The giant wolf lay panting, dripping its life blood on an already stained floor of white. Its menacing growl was so deep that the ground vibrated, cracked. All fighters stopped mid-punch, mid-bite, mid-kill. All movement ceased. The tall, elegant vampires, suits stained with their own and their enemy's blood, stepped back as the air around the wolves shimmered and warped. Limbs lengthened, snouts receded, and fur disappeared to reveal pale, smooth skin. They stood upright, or mostly; as much as their wounds would allow. Their clothes were tattered, loose fitting pants and tops, feet bare and dirty. Werewolves.

Age old hatred, dating back hundreds of years before, an ancient grudge, a battle for superiority. All this bloodshed over one stupid, but apparently beautiful, gypsy girl who was too promiscuous for her own good. With her affairs she set in motion events which could eventually wipe out two species, that weren't very many in number to begin with. It was only one thing that stopped them destroying each other. The wounded wolfs growl was a warning. Humans were nearing and both species had vowed to never involve humans in their war. They fled. But now, almost 800 years later and that conflict is still ongoing, only now its more subtle, more controlled, more organised. More deadly. And that's where I come in. Where an intense love takes its life, amidst darkness and hatred. Where it becomes the only light and possible salvation of two ancient species.

Town Square, 09:45

Caissian

It was winter and the air was freezing. I barely felt it though as I sat outside the café and watched with sharp eyes as people hurried on across the icy roads, treading carefully lest they trip and humiliate themselves. All huddled in their fleece lined parkas, they were, and those silly hats with the fleece flap things which go over your ears and make you look deformed.

I sipped at my cooling caramel macchiato, studying the intricate designs on my mug. The sleek black iPhone in front of me sang out Linkin Parks "Numb" and vibrated heavily on the table top, sending foam sloshing over the top of my cup. Its rock melody informed me that I had an incoming call of canine proportions and I couldn't help but laugh when the screen flashed up an image of a golden wolfs head grinning, tongue lolling. Caller ID is truly a blessing; that way you can screen calls and only answer ones you actually want to. My thoughts were random, mind elsewhere in an almost dreamlike state. I threw the correct change onto the table, hearing each individual clink as the coins hit the metal top. The song drifted away as the caller hung up. Constantine, my cousin, the constant bane of my existence and essentially the only man I truly trusted. But I didn't want to deal with him.

Clothed in only a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt that read 'I Bite When Provoked', I understood the strange looks people sent my way as I passed them. I literally ran towards the woods, too eager to escape, to be free. No-one saw me shift. I leapt into the air and relished the feel of my muscles contorting, lengthening. Thick mahogany fur burst from every pore as my snout and ears were extended and reshaped. Then I was Wolf and my senses were even more acute. Every insect which buzzed I could pinpoint its exact location. Every leaf which fell I could catch before it was even airborne. And I could smell prey from miles away. I was the ultimate hunting machine. And I was hungry.

Callum

I watched the young she-wolf head for the woods and sighed at her audacity. Stupid pup. I was on duty. As one of the head guards I was responsible for maintaining the illusion of normality. I was the spokesperson for my master. The person people were more familiar with, the one they associated with and spoke to. But I was so bored. My second in command Cory had dutifully gone to fetch some hot beverages, so I was alone and on the lookout for anything to perk up my day. What I was truly after though, was a rumble, a fight, something which involved close contact. Cory returned with my coffee and a fresh bagel, which he then promptly wolfed down. Pun intended. I glanced briefly at him, curling my upper lip in disgust; he had crumbs and raisins on his chin. And then as my eyes swung left I saw, rounding the corner, THEM. In pristine Armani suits, their hair professionally styled, shiny new loafers practically floating them towards the café, were the Vempiras. Rich, but then again so were we, always dressed in the latest fashions, always immaculate. Did they never roll around in the mud? My thoughts turned to more violent notions, twisting and moulding until they were perfect and filled with the most destruction I could fit into such a small amount of time.

I was dancing in anticipation of a fight, but of course they would have to start it. We couldn't be placed with all the blame and punishment. Too many times had we been caught, no, this time they had to initiate it. I whistled, a high pitched note that I knew would set their senses off on a riot, or maybe just give them a really bad headache. In a synchronised movement they turned, their dark eyes flashing with hatred when they saw me. I leaned, the portrait of innocence, on the corner, feeling the abrasive texture of the bricks through my t-shirt and using the slight pain to centre myself. I feigned a deep interest in my cuticles as I bent my head to my hand, felt Cory stiffen beside me, his body tense, and his wolf fighting for freedom. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye, and barely moving, I revealed the mischief I had planned. I watched as he read the tactics from the light in my eyes, watched as comprehension dawned on him and he settled into his , he forced his body into a more nonchalant pose.

The two vamps stalked steadily towards us, their movements determined and exact. No slipping on the ice for them, they barely even touched the floor, so light were their movements. My body trembled with anticipation of a fight. They stopped, two feet from us, and their eyes assessed our clothes with disdain. Personally, I didn't care what they thought, my clothes were fine; what's wrong with black jeans, a long black leather duster and biker boots? Jeez, they need to lighten up! My green hair whipped around my face, long and shaggy, blurring my vision for a second.

They hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked. Finally, the fanged fiend on the right spoke, his voice velvet smooth and deadly, "Were you whistling at us, Wolf?" I grinned, flashing canines, and shook my head. With a look of contempt, they turned as one and began to move in the opposite direction. Still smirking, I released another painfully pitched whistle, and watched with glee as they cringed and covered their ears.

They turned, I remember their names now, and the calm, beautiful façade they normally wore was gone, broken, as their monsters were unleashed. Morja, the one who had spoken before, growled and leapt forward; his brother, Mikjov, followed suit. I soared towards Morja, pushing off from the ground with my feet and becoming airborne for a time. I landed heavily against him, heard his grunt of pain as my shoulder bruised his chest. I laughed and threw myself wholeheartedly into the battle.

Cory

I am not really a fighter, I mean I'll fight when I have to but otherwise…..I don't really like it. Callum, he loves it, lives for it and when I saw the cruel calculation in his eyes I knew I would have to act like him, pretend to get into a fighting state of mind, ready myself for a needless brawl. So I pretended to relax, to prepare, and as I watched him launch into the air straight at the vampire, Morja I think, I knew there was no way I couldn't fight. I had to. Mikjov stared at me, his eyes as dark as mine were light. I could see red flames flickering in their depths and steeled myself for the oncoming pain. He rushed me, hoping I would back down, but I took the full force of his body as it crashed into me. We clashed, my body half-shifting, gifting me with razor claws and pointed teeth. Mikjov too, had let some of his own bestiality seep into the battle, for he now sported elongated canines and nails, so sharp they could cut through diamond. I dodged his practiced blows and delivered a slashing strike to his jugular, not truly intending to kill, just a warning that I wasn't as meek as I may seem.

I could hear the shouts of startled humans, heard the cries of mothers as they called to their children. An unfamiliar scent teased my nose, I hesitated, a moment before Lord Vempiras' nephew stepped into the middle of the fray. He began shouting for us to stop, to cease fighting, but we were all too caught up in the bloodlust. We were predators after all. I sidestepped, narrowly missing a dangerous swipe to my lower abdomen.

Then he was there, Malchus, alleged peacemaker of the Vempiras. I'd heard that he hated fighting just as much as I did. He broke us apart, tossing us both to opposite sides of the Square, where we lay stunned for a while. I watched as he did the same to Callum and Morja, watched him pitch them both into the air. I got up from the ground, made harder by the thick layer of ice, and brushed off my clothes. The others, too, had regained their feet, and were slowly circling towards each other. I took up my place by Callum and as a pack we stalked purposefully onwards. If I was going to fight, I was damn well going to do it right.

Malchus

There was no stopping them. I'd done what I had to to break them apart, but as soon as they were able, they were at it again. Always clawing, always biting. I didn't understand the mentality of it at all. It was stupid. I needed help. The crowd around the combatants was huge, as if the whole town had come to see, and among the humans, on one side of the ring, were vampires, my species, watching with glowing eyes as their brothers in arms fought. On the other side, the werewolves, cheering on their fighters with howls of joy. Others joined in, both species ripping at each other; I couldn't stop this many alone.

Then I saw him, hoping he might have some influence over his side of the mob. Constantine, great warrior and nephew to the leader of the werewolves, Lord Elseŵervŏwę.

He was grinning wildly as he approached, and I beckoned to him, shouting over the noise. "Help me! It's getting too far out of hand!"

He laughed a short, dark laugh which filled me with dread.

"Why would I help you? We're doin' rather well, don't ya think? We're beatin' the crap outta you vamps." His eyes were bright as he contemplated the possible destruction. I stared in disbelief as he moved to join in and sped to intercept him.

"Please, I'm trying to make peace. The fighting has to stop before someone gets seriously hurt!" I was desperate now, my voice catching.

He laughed, loud, like a bark and in his green eyes I saw just how feral he truly was, and my fears were confirmed when he purred, "Your beast partially unleashed and ya stand here talkin' of peace? Don't! I hate the very word, just as I hate all you family suck. They're so weak, kittens could hurt them. We were all created for battle, so let's fight!" and I watched in a numb stupor as he charged in.

A gun shot rang out and everyone froze. So silent were the crowd that you could still here the echoes of the shot long after it stopped. I stared wide eyed at the large leather clad figure who barged into the crowd. Long matted blonde hair fell down a bulky, broad back and bushy eyebrows slanted down over steel eyes. Hans Velsting, basically the only form of policing either species had. His voice rolled like thunder as he spoke.

"Three times now you bloody monsters 'ave disturbed this know, guys, there are humans present. Don' go doin' all your weird shit in fronta them."

Just then, Lord and Lady Elseŵervŏwę stalked round the corner of one of the shops. I groaned. This could only get worse. Hans had already spotted them and the crowd parted with frightened whispers as they walked over. Never had I seen werewolves with such aggressive auras, I mean everything about them screamed 'Predator' or 'Danger'. Humans instinctively moved out of the way. Again, with his loudspeaker-like voice, Hans reprimanded them.

"What 'ave I told y'all 'bout warrin' in the streets? If this happens again, the penalty to all participants will be death. And no matter what you guys are, I doubt even you can come back from the dead, ya hear me?" He snorted at his little joke and placed the safety back on his Beretta, stored it in its holster.

As he was walking away my Uncle Malachi and her ladyship, my Aunt Melodi, appeared, elegantly dressed, and Hans beckoned them over with one finger. Heads held high they walked, all vampires following them, fight forgotten in lieu of more important people. The werewolves had all gathered around their alphas, Lord and Lady Elseŵervŏwę, and were stood at attention.

"Yo, Claus, Cailen, come on over here and we'll talk about this issue some more in private." Hans waited impatiently for the werewolves to disperse and the Elseŵervŏwęs to approach. I followed at a distance then made my way back to the mansion, eager to be away from all the tension.

Later That Day….Elseŵervŏwę Mansion, 13:12

Corthan

I was jus' a lowly servant to my Masters. Ever' one was higher than me, could comman' me. But there are good points too. Like the fact tha' no-one ever really notices ya, I 'ave all the castle gossip, I 'm the ears an' eyes of this castle. I can get into places an' hear things I'm really not suppose' to an' no-one knows. The Lord an' Lady of the castle, you know, Lord Claus Elseŵervŏwę an' his wife Lady Cailen Elseŵervŏwę? Anyway, they'd jus' returned from meetin' with that 'orrible bear of a man, Hans Velsting an' the Lady had gone off to fence with her cousin, I can't remember the name for the life of me, but I was summoned an' I come runnin' and Claus jus' tells me to stan' there an' only 'old the drinks tray for 'im. So there I am 'oldin' this 'ere drinks tray an' in trots a right old ponce in my opinion, well he's young actually, but he acts old, an' it's the Count Farek, a good upstandin' werewolf you migh' say, but still, I don' like 'im.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. So I was standin' there, a livin' drinks tray and they gets talkin' about Claus' only daughter, the young Miss Caissian, its pronounced THAY-SHUN by the way, she gets in a right mood if you don't say it right. An' anyway, they start to talk about the young Caissian's age an' how she's not quite seventeen yet an' not old enough to get married. Married? I was shocked an' I nearly dropped this 'ere drinks tray, right onto the marble floors. Count Farek was wantin' to marry the little miss an' good old Claus was tryin' to persuade the pushy Count to wait until she was older. Well, little miss turns seventeen in ten days and they was arrangin' the marriage for a week after her birthday.

I didn' feel bad for bein' present at this particular conversation an' really 'oped the Master reconsidered marryin' his daughter off to the weak little boy the Count really was. I really wanted to be there when Claus told her who she had to get married to. Miss Caissian don't like bein told what to do an' she's more man than Count Farek is, actually she's probably tougher than 'is entire army! Well she aint gonna like the news anyhow. They sorta drifted away down the halls then, makin' arrangements, an' I was jus' left standin' there holdin' drinks tray. I set it down on a mahogany table an' wandered off to continue wi' me chores.

Canda

My mistress was truly dreading the conversation. I had returned from the courtyard after watching her fence with, and ultimately beat the crap out of, her cousin, Celiah. She was sweaty and slightly aching from the challenging workout, but I could tell that she revelled in the fact that because of her strict practice regime, she was one of the best swords people in the whole world, seconded in the family only by her headstrong daughter, Caissian. She loved the girl, she truly did, but it ate away at her that she is so much better than my mistress in every area of fighting she studied. I waited whilst she changed quickly into cleaner and less sweaty clothes and marched purposefully down the hall to her daughters' room.

I had notified my Lady Cailen of Caissian's return an hour ago and she had been on her way to check on her daughter when her husband had caught her and steered her into a corner. Whatever you're thinking now, stop it, it wasn't like that. He whispered in her ear the events he had subtly set into motion and though his motives annoyed both her and me, I had to agree that it was the perfect solution. Caissian was nearly seventeen and was not yet courted by any decent male. We feared for her future, it is a well known fact that wolves need a mate of some sort to ground them and a lone wolf was more likely to attack than one who headed a family. It had happened before. He had left it up to Cailen to dip her foot in the shark-infested waters that posed as her daughters' view of marriage. She was gonna get eaten alive and I hated him for putting her in that situation.

So now I cautiously poked my head around the doorjamb and peered into the vast abyss of her room, Cailen followed close behind. A wrought iron four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, draped in dark hues of velvet and silk. The black walls were decorated with her artwork, wolf eyes painted in bright colours straight onto the wall. The computer screen was on and we went towards the light, our only salvation in this never-ending darkness.

"It's a project." We turned, startled, to find Caissian leaning against the far wall, we hadn't sensed her, hadn't heard her. She gestured to the screen again and I looked at its contents. A page of world myths and legends based on werewolves, all the names we went by, what we could do, all in one place.

"You have to get rid of this. This is dangerous to us." Her mother spoke calmly, but I could tell that Caissian knew she was panicked. She slowly shook her head; the dyed purple hair flowed thick and long to her hips, swaying, curling around her body.

"No-one truly believes this, Mom. Trust me. The things people post on this site, saying they are werewolf hunters, they're not. They know nothing. Don't worry, we're safe." Her voice was smooth and calming. We relaxed and she clicked off the monitor, switched on a small lamp and turned to face us. She waited, expectant of something.

I heard Cailen sigh once and then launch into the speech she had practiced for this very moment.

"How do you feel about marriage? Wait, don't answer that I know already. You made eunuchs out of the other three wolves we set up for you, but not this time. You will be married exactly one week after your seventeenth birthday, to the Count Farek. He is noble and rich and very handsome. He will make a good husband and a fine father." The girl started to protest but Mistress shushed her and Caissian's hair stood up on end, like her hackles rising, lip curled to reveal pointed canines, electricity charging the air. "You will do this, Caissian! There will be no arguments…..nothing!" And we just walked out, slamming the door behind us in a bid to release the tension which had been building inside of us during that awful conversation. You may be laughing now but trust me, no matter what you say, if she doesn't like something and you insist, she can scare the life outta you. So, yes, to us it was an awful conversation. Cailen went for a bath then, in the hope of relieving some of the tension in her, now stiff, muscles. I hate her daughter sometimes.

Vempiras Mansion, 14:00

Maychork

Master was planning a ball. Yule was comin' up an' he wanted to hold a Yule ball at the Country House. I was run ragged wi' the preparations. The Halls had to be decorated an' the food prepared an' I had eight hours to do all of this, helped by about ten others. We were strong, obviously, an' fast but I really doubted our ability to complete this. It was an insane task but dutifully we went about our work, each assigned to a certain job. I had to deliver invitations 'round the town to all the folks, even them Elseŵervŏwęs. Humans, too, were invited, jus' to make the party more interesting.

I posted the flyers underneath the small, wooden doors an' as I came to the end of the batch, headed towards the Elseŵervŏwęs mansion. That place gave me the creeps, but I obediently trudged onwards. As I walked, I studied the intricate design of the poster an' laughed at its content. This ball was gonna be a blast, what, with the fancy dress (of course every vampire would come as a stereotypical vampire an' the werewolves wouldn't bother to dress up in a costume; the humans would come in tacky costumes borrowed from the only fancy dress store in town, or would make their own) an' the extremely loud heavy metal music? Perfect.

I loved a good ball. I hated the preparation. Truly I did. On reachin' the large, looming mansion (it looked like that castle, you know, the one that belongs to Dracula in Van-Helsing? I love that movie) an' tentatively slipped the flyer under the giant metal gate. It creaked in the wind an' I jumped back, startled. I heard maniacal laughter, floating, curlin' around my throat in a mocking fist an' I jus' raced away from that hell house. No way was I bein' eaten by them crazy wolves.

Elseŵervŏwęs Mansion, 15:05

Caiman

The stupid vampire ran. I mean he just ran. We laughed and he upped and ran all the way home. Like the pig in that story, with the other pigs? Huff and Puff, or something like that. Anyhow, I retrieved the elaborately designed leaflet and passed it over to the Big Boss. That's Constantine, for all you people who are a little bit dumb. It advertised the annual Yule Ball; Yey for fancy dress. I was being extremely sarcastic. I hated Balls, would have to go, but still, not my favourite thing. Constantine was very animated for once, pacing the corridors in excitement, hardly concealing the mayhem he had planned. The flyer informed us that the party started at nine o'clock tonight and that was six hours away. I watched as he shouted orders to the servants, asking for clothes of the most gothic nature. They hurried off to do his bidding, chattering furiously amongst themselves.

Caissian came bounding up the marble stairs, stopped mid-stride when she saw her cousin and twisted, intent on bounding right back down. Too slow. He caught her as she turned and swung her around in a relatively cheerful dance. She laughed in shock at his uncharacteristic actions, the sound harmonious and melancholy. Finally, Constantine swirled them to a stop, all flourish and finesse. He spoke in a rush of words, so quick I barely caught them.

"There's a ball at the Country House. We're all goin'," he gestured to the wolves lounging on the balcony, "And ya have to come with us. Your Father has given his holy permission an' you need to get out more, meet people. I suppose Cailen has talked to you about Farek, but I'm sure they'd let you marry someone of your own choosin'. Providin' they were Wolf and of a high class." He raised his eyebrows and waggled them as she pondered his words. I could see the thoughts flash across her face, saw her uncertainty and doubt. For some reason, Caissian was scared of the very prospect of meeting others, but eventually she nodded. Constantine grinned, handed her the flyer and encouraged, "Go get dressed then. Find somethin' to wear. I don't care what." If his words seemed somewhat authoritative, they were. But it was natural for a male and Caissian only tolerated it most times because she loved him. She turned with a playful pout, but walked down the stairs in a pensive, serious mood, her purple braid bouncing at her hips with each step.

I switched my attention back to Constantine, only then becoming aware that he was talking to the others. I listened as he set about giving them orders for tonight. Caissian was to be kept in sight at all times. She was only allowed to leave with a wolf. Any flirting with her was to be stopped immediately unless it was a wolf. The rest of the orders were similar. I tuned out after the first ten and stared out across the gardens. I watched Cyna wander through the maze of trees, play her fingers in the water fountain and skip through the arches. She was beautiful. All legs and tiny waist, fey-like with large golden eyes and silver blonde hair which skimmed her shoulder blades. And she was off limits. As Caissian's best friend, the girl was almost as important as the Lady herself. Her confidant and servant, her bodyguard and spy. I left with the others in a sullen silence to get ready for the party.

Sivamet Country House, 20:55

Mikhail

The music was pounding. My heart thudded in time to the heavy beats, my pulse thumped in my head. The party hadn't started yet and I was getting restless. Manik was twitching at my side, already thinking up ways to humiliate the Elseŵervŏwęs. I was daydreaming about my love. Roseana. I watched her from a distance, never got too close, never spoke to her. Just dreamed about the sweet perfection of her.

"Stop daydreaming about her, my man. Dance, be happy." Maniks voice was soft in my ear.

"I can't dance. My soul is too hurt, too heavy."

"Cut out the poetry, man. You're a lover, so borrow Cupids wings and soar with them."

"Love's too heavy a burden, I can't fly." My words sounded pathetic even to me and I struggled to think of something more masculine to say next.

"Love's too tender to be a burden… What are we talking about?" He sounded extremely disgruntled, so I answered his first statement.

"Is love tender? It's too rough, too rude, too boisterous and it pricks like a thorn." Again I frowned at the words coming from my mouth, wondering at their source.

"Look, if love's rough with you, be rough with love. My mother taught me that. You never get anywhere unless you're on an even keel with love. If it pricks you, then by the gods, prick it back."

I scowled at my friend, marvelling at the words coming out of his mouth. We were possessed I was sure of it. Never in our entire lives would we spout the stuff we just had. Glancing sideways at each other out of narrowed eyes, we surreptitiously moved away from one another. Manik walked further, danced into the middle of the floor, gyrating his hips to the pounding music, rambling about nonsense. Something about Queen Mab and fairies. My friend really was quite insane at times.

The human guests arrived in groups, no-one entered alone, the vampires, in pairs, linking or holding hands. The Wolves arrived last. Most of them entered individually. The mated pairs stuck together like glue and openly displayed their affection for one another. I turned away to allow some semblance of privacy, not that they were bothered. Others had joined Manik on the dance floor, the humans only slightly uncomfortable with the unnatural dancers around them. The Wolves were all dressed in Gothic/ Victorian styles, billowing shirts and corset dresses in a multitude of colours. They danced only with their own, swaying and twirling in graceful moves. I stood by the bar, my glass empty and watched in wry amusement. Parties weren't my thing. Too many people all squished together in one room, too many smells, different touches and sounds. I spotted Malchus across the floor, elegantly attired in a rather Dracula inspired ensemble. Flowing white shirt, open at the throat, black breeches and knee high boots and a velvet red cape. He looked more sophisticated than his 24 years could possibly allow. I motioned him over with my hand, waited for him to reach my side before handing him a shot of absinthe. We both stood for a while, watching Manik cavort on the dance floor. The air stirred to my left, a fragrance which teased all of my senses, sweet and flowery, like Parma Violets. I sneezed involuntarily at the sweet scent, my nose tingling, for a moment completely killing my sense of smell. I searched frantically for the source, hating it entirely, no matter who it was. My gaze fell on a petite redhead, clad in a very flimsy Morticia Addams costume. Roseana. I snarled as she turned, regarded me with a look of deep contempt and linked her bone thin arm through a strangers'. He smiled indulgently and in that moment I fell so hard out of love that I swear I dropped straight through the earth. Twice. Childishly, I spun on my heel and stormed off to sulk in a corner.

21:10

Caissian

We Elseŵervŏwęs always enter in a flourish. This flourish was a double door entrance, flung open by yours truly and we stalked in. We never walk. We stalk or strut. I stepped back briefly to allow my parents to lead, followed behind them, flanked by Constantine and Caiman. The rest of the pack entered as they wanted to. As I glanced around, I noticed others of our species already there, under Elseŵervŏwę dominance but not part of the family. All movement stopped at our arrival. Every breath held, whether in reverence or trepidation. As the family spread out, it was as though a switch had been flicked on afterwards. The dancers slowly started to move again. I slunk off towards the bar, eager to be away from the writhing masses. Cyna, who had been glued to my side since we arrived, subtly slipped into the shadows. I smiled gently as she left me to my thoughts. My parents had arranged my marriage. I was almost seventeen, too young to be married, surely? I didn't like the Count Farek one little bit, arrogant and narcissistic he was everything I hated in a man. Plus he was blond. I don't like blonds.

The air was heavy and oppressive, and I gasped for air. Snow was falling gently outside, perfect and white. I stumbled, light headed towards the patio doors. They opened silently and I gulped down large quantities of fresh air as I stepped out into the courtyard, snow crunching beneath my feet, freezing them. I hated crowds. I found them stifling and tended to have severe panic attacks or violent outbursts. None of my family knew. Cyna covered for me. After a few more moments of freedom, I turned to go back in. The gently sweeping purple lights in the ballroom made it mysterious and spooky and as I stepped through the doors, they soothed my frazzled nerves. My velvet Victorian-style dress rustled as I walked and I looked up from watching my feet to see…Him. He was totally hot. And I mean surface-of-the-sun hot. He was standing on the outer edge of the dance floor, opposite the patio doors, watching the pulsating bodies as if searching for someone. He has a girlfriend, I thought glumly as his eyes once again scanned the dancers.

I swished my long dress nervously, rolling the purple velvet beneath my fingers, transferring weight from one foot to the other in an entirely uncharacteristic manner of uncertainty. I was never this nervous. This man was making me tense, edgy and he hadn't even looked at me yet. I shook my head in an attempt to banish the unfamiliar feelings and as my hair billowed out around me, his head snapped in my direction. In his midnight eyes I saw an intense emotion, so vicious in its longing for something, I turned to run, to hide from it. Never before had I been the recipient of such barely leashed heat. I strutted towards the bar, feigning confidence and sat there on a stool.

People came and went as I sat, hands tightly clasping my latest refill of absinthe. I had let the last four chauvinistic, woman-grabbing males buy my drinks but the one sat next to me in that instant was extremely malodorous, and human, and so drunk I don't even think he knew his own name. His Freddie Kruger outfit was hanging off him and he slyly slipped his left hand onto my right knee. I inhaled deeply and let it out slow in a calming breath, determined not to cause a scene and praying to all the gods that had ever existed that he would remove his hand. He didn't. It slipped higher and I snarled, revealing canines which had lengthened in my anger. He fell back off his stool in terror, eyes wide as he took in my teeth, and backed swiftly away from me, trying to scream but his vocal cords had tightened and he was unable to make a sound. I laughed at his fear, the taste of it bitter and pungent on my tongue. He disappeared. I stared out across the floor, not seeing anything.

Mikhail

My mind was screaming at me to follow her as she ran and I did, walking slowly after her, analysing her every move. I stared at her, entranced. She was so beautiful, so in tune with the night, a jewel amidst the darkness. She outshone all others. Had I ever loved before then? For I had not seen true beauty before her. I moved towards her, bewitched. Slowly. Gently. She had stopped moving and for a moment I lost sight of her. How long had she been out of my sight? Obviously a long time as I glimpsed her in the mirror behind the bar. She already had a shot a green absinthe in her hand, sat sideways on a stool, and laughing politely with a human male. I growled. She turned her head slightly in my direction, a small frown on her beguiling face; I hid behind a marble column, watching her reflection in the mirror. She turned away. I grabbed a passing waiter and pointed her out to him through the sweeping lights. "Who is she? Over there, by the bar."

"I don't know, Sir. Sorry." He moved away again, tray in hand. I stood motionless near the column and just…..watched.

Caiman

Constantine bolted. One moment he was there, the next, gone. I rushed after him through the crowds, found him with his uncle, yelling furiously. A member of the Vempiras family was moving towards Caissian. Constantine had seen the man ask a waiter about her, heard him talk so reverently. Claus brushed off his concerns, too drunk to truly care, and when Constantine moved as if to fight, Claus punched him. In the jaw. He moved away from his uncle, hand going to his bruised mouth.

"Fine. I'll get him later then. But mark my words, uncle; he will pay for his offence." Constantine turned on his heel and strode away, into another area of the huge Country House, to lick his wounds I presumed. Curious now, I watched the man closely as he sat just out of sight of Caissian, he watched her in the mirror as she dismissed her many suitors. He laughed as she terrified one particularly stubborn suitor, some drunk in a Freddie Kruger outfit but I'd seen the burning fury in his eyes when the guy had placed his eager hand on the lady's leg.

A tentative hand touched my shoulder, gentle and a sweet scent filled my nose. I turned, distracted, from the strange man to see the person behind that touch. Cyna. Lovely and mysterious as ever, her golden eyes peering up at me through thick ebony lashes, her petite body encased in a golden dress which billowed out in silvery waves of material from the waist. The corset was a slightly darker gold than her eyes and the blend of colours in the dress brought out highlights in her hair. She looked ethereal, like an angel. And the angel had her hand held out to me. I stared at it bewildered, a frown creasing my forehead. Still frowning, I gently took it and brought her satin skin to my lips. She giggled when I released her, and shook her head, perfect smile on her face. I cocked my head to the side, bemused.

"Dance with me." A command, not a question, spoken in a soft, lilting voice that made my knees tremble. Reverently, I gathered her into my arms and spun her onto the dance floor, forgetting the stranger subtly stalking Caissian.

Caissian

Now I was just plain bored. The music, originally Linkin Park, had changed to Debussy. Not that I minded Debussy, its just I needed something hardcore to take my mind off of things. The beautiful melody was seeping into me, making my soul ache at such purity, the notes like crystal and each seemed to shimmer in the air before me. People were dancing, holding partners close in an embrace and it seemed everyone was on the floor. I frowned. Everyone was on the dance floor, those sat on the outskirts, those at the bar, everyone had partnered up and were now dancing to the slow, endless music that floated from the large speakers. I was alone. Even the bartender had left, the waiting staff were gone. I could see my parents swaying together, caught sight of Cyna dancing with Caiman, a radiant smile on her face and open adoration on his. It made me happy, to know that she had finally worked up the courage to ask him out. She'd loved him for years.

I reached over the bar, groping blindly for the bottle of absinthe. I know, I know, I've had a lot, but what can I say? It's my favourite drink. I was about to refill my glass with the clear green liquid, when a sudden movement to my left startled me and I flinched away. It was Him. Stood directly next me, he was so much bigger up close, so tall, so broad. His hair was a deep midnight black, with blue highlights, like a raven's wing, thick and silky, flowing down over his shoulders to the middle of his back. His nose was perfectly straight, royal and strong. His blue eyes were electric, the colour of lapis lazuli with a thin black ring around the iris and dark purple flecks surrounding the pupil. His unusual eyes were framed by thick black lashes that even the best mascara could not duplicate and right now those eyes were staring down at me with a strange emotion flickering in their depths.

I blinked and looked away from that piercing gaze, looking instead at the rest of his body. He was wearing a pristine white shirt, with a low cut neck and frilled sleeves, his broad, muscular chest was emphasised by the white, the tawny skin, visible due to the extremely low neck, (which was revealing more of his chest than it covered) was smooth and unblemished. I had to wrench my gaze from the perfection of him and, trying really hard not to gawk at the poor guy, continued my perusal. His legs were tightly encased in black breeches, similar to those worn by others in the crowd, but his black leather boots were not in keeping with the period clothing. They were heavy leather, with thick silver buckles in the shape of bats and metal on the outside of the sole. Goth boots, not unlike a pair I had at home. I glanced up into his face with a sort of astonishment. He smiled at my expression and tilted my head up with a gentle finger, staring deep into my eyes. I almost fainted.

Mikhail

I was there, next to her, touching her smooth skin with its delicate peaches-and-cream complexion and just basking in the light of her exquisite beauty. She stood, so much shorter than me, and after avoiding my eyes, let her gaze wander over me. I could feel the heat of it as it scanned every inch of me, she stubbornly refused to meet my eyes, until I tenderly grasped her chin and brought her gaze to mine. She realised her attempts were futile and just stood there staring up at me. Her eyes were the most vivid colour, an extraordinary blend of grey and purple, the pupil set strange in the iris, not central but more towards the top of it. Her long, dark amethyst hair fell in silken curls around her body, long enough that it swept her hips and created a sort of cloak over her bare shoulders.

I love balls, I thought, noting the dress she wore. Victorian styled, gothic and beautiful in bold purple hues, with a plunging neckline edged with black lace. The corset itself was black velvet with satin panels and purple embroidery, folds of heavy velvet cascaded at the hips, joining to the corset in a purple waterfall. She was a vision. A fallen angel, for the dress was surely meant to tempt even the holiest man. Her eyes sparked as I continued to stare and the words that came from her perfect mouth made me laugh aloud.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all night? 'Cause if you are, could you possibly do it from a distance? I like my space." She smiled sarcastically up at me. Yes, a fallen angel indeed. I glanced around as I suddenly realised that there was no-one anywhere near us. Everyone had congregated on the floor and we were the only ones on the outskirts. I inclined my head towards the patio doors and touched her elbow. She swept past me out into the snow jewelled gardens. Nobody noticed us leave. Not a soul.

Caissian

I wondered slightly at his motives as he motioned towards the gardens. I brushed past him and was through the doors seconds before him. I glanced behind once, to check for spies, but I needn't have worried. Everyone was too caught up in the music, even the humans. He wanted to talk to me; I could see his internal struggle as he searched for the right words.

Finally, he spoke. "Surely you are a saint, or an angel, and oh, how I have sinned, being alone with you." What he did next shocked me.

Quoting Shakespeare himself, he whispered, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." The deep timbre of his voice accompanied his words with a sincere depth and I couldn't help but reply to his poetry.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." His eyes dropped to my lips as I spoke and I bit my lip, lowering my eyes shyly, smiling softly. Snow drifted around us. I didn't expect him to reply.

"Have not saints' lips and holy palmers too?" I looked up swiftly, startled by the next line of that famous play. I smiled in answer, growing ever shyer beneath his inquisitive gaze. He was genuinely eager for my response.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." I did my best to look solemn, though a small smile was twitching at the corner of my mouth.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

I amazed myself at how fervently I wanted to truly act out this scene. All of it.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." My heart stuttered in my chest as he closed the gap between us, and his cool, marble lips pressed very softly against mine, I couldn't breathe. His hands framed my face as he deepened the kiss and my hands, of their own accord, crept up to his shoulders, the back of his neck, to tangle in his hair. My lips parted against his as my breath came in a wild gasp. He drew back, eyes wild and feral and we both paused to catch our breath. I smiled, slowly and his face mirrored my own. I realised it was my line in this little game we played.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

He feigned shocked outrage at my words, reaching for me as he said, "Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." I went willingly forwards into his arms. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt light headed. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly. The kiss deepened, but the sound of soft footsteps had us pulling back from each other.

"You kiss by the book," I breathed. He grinned broadly at me, tenderness evident in every aspect of his face. We both turned to regard the intruder, and I was surprised to see Cyna gliding towards us. She smiled politely at the man beside me (by the gods I didn't even know his name!) before addressing me.

"Your mother wants a word with you; I think we're leaving soon." She smiled at me, and I nodded to her once, inclined my head to him, and vanished into the now moving crowd.

Cyna

I watched my best friend disappear into the hall, and turned to watch the devastatingly handsome man beside me. I studied him. He was young, older than us though, maybe twenty four, twenty five. I frowned. True, Farek was almost thirty, but he was even more immature than a teenager. This man seemed too old for his age. He was deep in thought as he stared at the place Caissian had last been. Then he spoke, startling me out of my reverie.

"Who is her mother?" Like caramel, his deep voice was, rolling the r's with the Romanian accent. I was bewildered at his obvious question. Was he mentally challenged? I answered out of courtesy anyway. "Her mother is the Lady of the Woods and a wise and virtuous leader. Caissian is my best friend. We grew up together. And I have to say; whoever finally marries her will want for nothing." I gave my mistress the most recognised title and our history only because the man seemed infatuated with my dear friend. A light dawned in the electric blue of his eyes.

"Is she an Elseŵervŏwę then? Awww, crap. My life is my foes debt." I glanced up at him in surprise when he spoke, mostly because I had only ever known Caissian to quote Shakespeare before, but then I quickly hurried back the way I'd come. Caiman was waiting for me near the doors. With one last puzzled look over my shoulder at the guy, I went to join my pack.

Caissian

I turned in circles as I waited for Cyna to reappear. My mother had, indeed, wished to inform me that we were leaving. I looked at the ornate locket watch which hung around my neck; it was 2:00 in the morning. Then she was there, Cyna. I wrapped my arms around her in a warm embrace before I spotted HIM leaving through the front doors. Pulling Cyna close, I whispered in her ear, "Who is he, by the door, the one who, like me, wouldn't dance?"

"I don't know." Her reply was equally as soft.

"Well, go ask him then." I pushed her forward and after giving me a feigned haughty look over her shoulder, she dutifully went over to him. He looked surprised at her approach and I watched as he spoke in a rush of words. I craned my neck, rising up on tiptoes to see them both better. He looked up in my direction and I yelped as I was caught. I fancied I heard his soft chuckle as he looked down at my feet and saw they were bare. I hate wearing high heels and my mother hadn't allowed me to wear my boots. But despite my humiliation, I was soon lost in the warmth of his laughter.

The pack began to disperse, some running into the woods, others heading towards cars, the rest walking. I glanced around for my friend, worried about leaving her. I watched as 'Shakespeare' (what else was I supposed to call him?) gently nudged her in my direction, tilted his head towards the leaving wolves. Her eyes widened and after more rushed words, she hurtled after me. Cyna thumped into me as she struggled to stop her forward momentum, gasping for breath after her mad dash and trying to form coherent words. I waited impatiently for her to speak, eyes wide and excited, but still she couldn't breathe. I turned to leave her and, laughing, she gripped me in a hug, wrapping her arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, "His name's Mikhail Vempiras. His father arranged the party. He's twenty four and isn't married." She winked at the last part. I growled playfully. But then I sobered up.

"Two problems. One: He's too old for me. Two: He's a Vempiras. My parents would kill him on sight. It'll never work." I sighed heavily and, leaning my head on Cyna's shoulder, walked over to the limo and settled in. The ride home was the longest I'd ever known.

Elseŵervŏwę Mansion, 02:30

Mikhail

I'd ditched Manik and Malchus on the way home, my black Ninja quickly losing their inferior bikes, leaving them in my dust. They wouldn't trail me, track me, they'd leave me alone. I hoped. I stared up at the medieval castle; saw the snow-tipped turrets reaching up into the night. Lights flickered from the double glazed windows, designed to look authentic and in keeping with the rest of the castle. They'd only been added in the last fifty years, before that the original windows had been in place but then the occupants apparently started complaining about the draft. I shook my head as I studied the large, wrought iron gates in front of me and measured the height of the wall enclosing the entire estate. Taking ten steps back, I ran forward and leapt straight over the wall, with inches to spare. I landed silently on the other side, not even the owls gave my presence away. My ears picked up the snuffling of a large animal to my right and I hunkered down lower behind the ancient oak. A russet wolf passed by, briefly raising its head, and I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. Of course they would have guards in Wolf form, I thought with an angry shake of my head. I cursed my own stupidity and was more careful as I came from behind the tree.

I cast out all my senses. Heard three werewolves patrolling the right of the castle, smelled three patrolling the left and accidentally touched one patrolling the front. He didn't howl; can't howl when he's unconscious. That made seven and I was betting there were more guarding the front and back. I pondered my little dilemma. I had to see her. Had to hear her voice again. Caissian. Her name whispered from my lips, a gentle prayer to the night, asking for guidance. I breathed deep the air, scenting other werewolves, searching only for one. There! A faint trace but more potent than anything I'd ever smelled before. I latched onto that scent vehemently, following it around the castle and into the grounds. I relied on the shadows to conceal me, hid behind shrubs and large trees until I reached the rear of the castle. The gardens were vast, elaborately full of flowers, even in the depths of winter.

Snow was heavy on the ground and many times during the course of the journey I had had to stop to cover my tracks. I glanced up as a shadow flickered across one of the upstairs windows, a curvy feminine silhouette I would recognise anywhere. The snow burnt my skin where it landed on my upturned face, too cold to freeze. I watched as the light was extinguished, and sighed. Well, that was my chance gone. I turned in circles, arms spread wide as I childishly swirled in the snow. Such a beautiful night, I couldn't help but gaze in wonder at the purity of it all. I dropped my arms when some of the shrubs behind me rustled; I scented the air, discovered that it was only a rabbit. My breath huffed out in a swirl of white, and I was just about to leave when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a fleeing figure, a cape of black flying out behind it. The figure's pale bare feet were visible beneath the cape as they ran, my heart stuttered in excitement and I followed without a thought, loping silently after.

Caissian

I couldn't stand it anymore. The confines of my room were killing me, slowly squeezing the life out of me. Cyna had gone to bed as soon as we had got home, but I couldn't settle, tangling myself in the bed sheets in an attempt to get comfortable. It didn't work. I got up and dressed in a thick velvet dress, blood red and long sleeved. I didn't want to wear pants; too restrictive. I pulled on a cape to cover my shoulders and keep the chill off my neck and chest. I glanced at my boots sat at the door but decided against them, extinguished my light and stepped into the hallway, barefoot. It was empty except for one of the guards, Caleb. I looked at him sheepishly, and put a finger to my lips. He smiled and shook his head at my behaviour, but pressed his own finger to his lips and nodded. I beamed at him, hugged him as I silently skipped down the hall. Few servants pottered about in the main hall when I got downstairs but they only smiled indulgently as I past; no one raised the alarm; it was a frequent sight. I moved into the gardens, slipping silently out the back door.

The snow was thick on the ground, gardens covered in a layer of snow. As I stepped out onto the thick, icy, white carpet, my bare feet sank into it, right the way up to my calf. It was cold, but my naturally regulated body heat prevented me from feeling the true extent of the sub zero temperatures. After pulling my feet free from the icy grasp, I stood bathing in the ethereal glow emitted by the moon, illuminating the gardens and making the snow shimmer like crystals. Snowflakes landed on my lashes, covered my upturned face in a frosty coating, so much so that I felt like a cupcake. All I needed was a cherry on top of my head. I caught glimpses of myself in the windows I past, rouged cheeks, cold-swollen lips, wide grey eyes and wild curls of purple silken hair. I looked insane. Pulling the cape more tightly around my shoulders, I scented the air, located all of the guards, and swiftly ran, ever so lightly, across the frozen ground, barely skimming the surface and no longer burying myself in the snow. As I ran, I smelled an extremely familiar scent, one unlike any other that I could not be mistaken. It was the smell of moonlight and shadow, midnight and starlight. So uniquely him, I felt my heart ache. Mikhail. My eyes scanned the surrounding area as I flew past trees and lakes, no sight o him, nothing but darkness. I sighed. He wouldn't come here. It was suicide. Tears filled my eyes, overflowing to freeze on my cheeks. I ran.

Mikhail

I paused, once, as I followed her…..Tears, I could actually smell her tears. I growled in anger.

I would personally kill anyone who ever hurt her and caught myself before I turned to hunt the bastard down. I pivoted on one foot, unsure whether to just kill anyone who had ever said a bad word against her or continue my pursuit of her. I went with the latter, lengthening my strides, shrouding myself in darkness. She was nought but a red dot in the distance now, so fast had she moved. I put on a burst of speed, but still I was far behind her. Eventually, I reached a small copse of trees, large towering ancients, Redwoods and Ash, Sycamore and Birch. I stood in the middle of the clearing, searching through the darkness for some trace of her. It was as if she had simply upped and flown away. Raising my eyes to the sky, I scanned the canopy, finally locating a wooden structure built into the fork of the highest tree. I stepped towards it, and as I neared, the sound of soft sobbing reached my sensitive ears, breaking my heart with every anguished sound that was wrenched from her throat. For I didn't doubt who it was up there, nestled in that tree. I trailed my fingers along the trunk. Bingo! The rope ladder was camouflaged against the bark and I grasped it, tugged to make sure it would hold my weight and carefully started my ascent.

The weeping became louder as I neared the tree house, my hands climbed faster of their own accord and my feet located the rungs of the ladder with more accuracy than before. My movements were urgent, my only thoughts about easing her pain. As I reached the top and sprung silently up onto the adjoining branch, she spoke. Soft, beautiful, melodic voice with only a hint of a Romanian accent. Even though I had heard it before, it still amazed me and rocked me to my very core. Her words were whispered, almost embarrassed when she murmured them. It started to rain, torrentially, and that created a curtain between us. I could still see her huddled on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, chin resting on them. She looked like a bright angel, glorious in the night and more beautiful than the moon, who, as I looked up for a second, seemed to pale with envy.

I listened at the entrance unseen and eager. Her first words shocked me, never would I have imagined that I was the one to bring tears to her bizarre eyes.

"Mikhail…..oh jeez, Mikhail, where are you? Can't you just leave your family, and never be a Vempiras again? And if you can't, well, just love me and I won't ever be an Elseŵervŏwę again." I stood there wondering whether I should interrupt or keep on eavesdropping. Before I could react, she continued.

"It's only your last name which proves a great problem, you're still yourself if you're not a Vempiras. Oh if you were only related to someone else, if only your surname was different. If you weren't called Mikhail, you would still be Mikhail, in personality and looks anyway, just not by name. Get rid of your stupid name and come be with me."

I took my cue at that and stepped into the doorway. I knew she couldn't see my face; the light was behind me. I stood staring at her, waiting for her next words.

Caissian

I poured out my heart in my own personal sanctuary, the little wooden house set up high in the oldest tree. I ranted and raved basically, talking as if Mikhail were right in front of me and generally just venting all of my anger out into the darkness. So wrapped up in my emotions, I didn't realise that I was no longer alone. I had no idea when this person had arrived, didn't know what he was, what he was here for and in that moment I was afraid. Until he spoke.

"I'll take you at your word. Call me 'love' and I'll no longer be called Mikhail." That husky voice, oh I knew it as though it were my own. But I had to be sure.

"What sort of gentleman are you, if you listen in on my private thoughts?" I needed an answer, just so I could hear that voice again.

"If I have no name, I can't tell you who I am. My name, dear saint, I hate it. Because it is your enemy. And if I had it written on a piece of paper, I would tear the word."

"I haven't even heard a thousand words spoken by that voice, and yet I know the sound. You are Mikhail, and a Vempiras, aren't you?"

There was no hesitation.

"I am neither, love, if you hate either of them," the words rolled so lovingly off his tongue.

Concern clouded my tone as I whispered, " How did you come here, and why? The walls are extremely high and hard to climb, and a place of death considering who you are, if any of my family find you here."

"I merely soared over, carried by love. Your relatives can't hurt me." He stepped forward, all sinewy muscle, his shirt plastered to his skin by the rain. He looked like an avenging angel, come to save me.

"If they see you, they'll kill you." I was worried, very worried, to find him only to lose him again. I couldn't deal with that.

"I don't care. As long as I'm with you, I'll risk it. Always." His voice held a note of pure confidence, love (for me?) softened his tone and his eyes glowed like sapphires in the gloom.

The shadows moved as he walked closer. I lowered my knees from my chest, sat cross-legged and pulled the velvet dress and cape around me. I settled into the cushion I'd left on the floor and motioned to one opposite me. I knew I only had a few more minutes before Cyna came for me, but I couldn't quite muster the energy to worry about it. I was too relaxed in his presence, usually I hated guys, but I couldn't get enough of him.

He actually startled me when he spoke again and I had to focus to understand what he was going on about.

"Seriously, don't worry about me. The darkness will hide me, it always does. Anyway, I'd rather die because of their hate, than through lack of your love." He flopped gracefully, (can you flop gracefully?), onto the cushion I'd indicated earlier and simply stared at me. I spoke softly and chose my words carefully.

"You know I'm hiding, don't you?" He nodded slowly. "I like the night, it's calm and soothing and so quiet. I know you heard what I said before, too. And if it wasn't so dark, you'd see me blushing for sure. But….If I asked you whether you loved me, I know that you would answer sincerely that you did. And I would trust you in that, wholly. But if you swear on it, I can't trust that you truly mean it." I paused for a breath, gauging his reactions, studying the handsome structure of his face. I rushed on before he could say anything.

"If you love me, Mikhail, tell me so, faithfully. And if you think I am easy, I'll push you off this very high tree and beat you 'till you cry." He chuckled when I said that, but wisely let me continue. If I stopped, I didn't think I'd be able to finish. "Really, I like you too much, and if my behaviour has seemed a little distant, it's because of that. I will prove to be truer than anyone who has ever had anyone to love. But since you overheard me, well…..now I'm aware of just how passionately I love you. So you'll have to bear with me if it seems as though I'm professing only a light love, which unfortunately, the darkness revealed." I huffed out an aggravated breath as I finally ran out of things to say.

I realised that I was leaning towards him, and he had mirrored my movements exactly, our faces only inches away.

"I swear by the silver moon, so radiant -" I cut him off after the first few words.

"Don't swear by the moon, she is inconsistent, changing with every month."

"Then what would you have me swear by?" He was genuinely curious.

"Swear by nothing…..or swear by yourself…..Maybe we should wait; you don't have to swear your love to me yet. It's too sudden, too rash, too unadvised. I barely know you." My words seemed somehow bland; there was no conviction behind them, no real meaning. I looked at him intently, watching his eyes for any reaction.

"Are you gonna leave me so unsatisfied?" His words were teasing and amusement was evident in his voice. I scowled through the darkness, knowing he could see me quite clearly.

"What satisfaction can I possibly give you tonight?" Yes, I know I probably shouldn't have asked that, given the circumstances, it just sort of came out wrong.

His smile was devilish but he only said, "The knowledge that you love me too is all I need, your vow to love me."

I frowned, confused.

"I've already given it, before you asked."

"Will you withdraw it?" His beautiful voice was strained with emotion.

"No! Of course not! I will give it to you again. But you have to know, my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep, and the more I give to you, the more I have. It's infinite." I know I stole Shakespeare's words, but he is so fantastic and it was the only way I could truly express how I felt. I wasn't able to put it into words myself.

"This is a dream," he murmured, eyes bluer than ever, sparking.

My head whipped to the side. Leaves crunching had drawn my immediate attention, and I leapt up as if I'd been caught doing something wrong. I padded to the doorway and scented the air. It had stopped raining and the smell of damp vegetation almost overrode the other scents. Cyna. It was definitely Cyna. She often came for me when I ran off during the night. Dawn was just beginning to break and the soft reds and purples rose up out of the inky darkness.

"It's Cyna. She makes sure I'm ok." I turned to him, eyes wide as I contemplated my next words. "If your intentions are, and I don't mean to be old fashioned, honourable, and your purpose marriage, then get word to me tomorrow, give me a time and place and I'll be there. I'll give you all of myself and I'll follow you anywhere." The last words were all but breathed, the intensity of my love making me breathless.

"Caissian!" Cyna's voice carried clear through the night, soft as her shout was, and I looked in the direction it was coming from. I sighed before turning back to Mikhail.

"I better go." I could hear the pain in my voice, cleared my throat to perhaps next time sound stronger. "A thousand times goodnight, Mikhail." I soared from the tree house and landed in a crouch at the bottom. One last look; I walked away.

Mikhail

I watched her leap from the branch; saw her crouched low on the floor. Watched as she lifted her head to look at me before walking away. Then the sweetest sound ever filled my ears.

"Pssst...Pssst…Mikhail." I peered out from the dwelling. Her eyes shone up at me.

"What is it, love?" My response was as calm as I could I make it, though my body was shivering, ecstatic.

"What time should I meet you tomorrow?"

"Nine. In the morning. I'm free then."

"Ok, then. Nine, tomorrow." She exhaled staccato breaths. I smiled as she nervously fidgeted on the ground, wanting to say more. "I've forgotten why I called you back."

"Let me stand here until you remember then." She giggled at that, a carefree sound.

"But I'll forget again, with you standing there, remembering how I love your company."

"Then I'll still stay, so you forget, and remember no home but this one."

"It's almost morning, I really should go." Yet still she hesitated.

Her eyes seemed to spark as the voice called out her name again. She whipped her head to the side and her temper flared. As soon as it came it was gone, like a wave breaking on the shore; gathering speed, racing, growing in power before gently breaking against the shore and disappearing back to whence it came.

A sad resignation filled those beautiful eyes, still staring up at me. I knew her next words before she said them; they were my own.

"Good night! Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night 'till it be morrow."

I laughed at the quote, noting just how fitting it really was. She smiled in return and looked once again to the rising sun. Unable to stand the distance between us much longer, I leapt from the wooden hut and hit the ground running, reaching her and sweeping her up into my arms. I stared deep into her eyes before kissing her softly on the lips, tenderly. Releasing her was the hardest thing I ever did but I forced my muscles into submission, and reluctantly they complied, setting her bare feet back onto the snow. I felt empty without the warmth of her in my arms. I nudged her gently in the direction she needed, pushing her lower back to get her moving.

"You better go now; I don't think I could ever let you go if you stayed much longer." The words tore at my throat as I spoke them, breaking my heart. She smiled sympathetically, understanding and walked away without a backward glance. I lost sight of her as the shadows of the trees embraced her. I headed in the opposite direction, to the end of the estate and scaling the wall, began the long trek to the cave with a lightened heart.

Next day, Elseŵervŏwę Mansion, 08:01

Cyna

After the other night's rather amazing ball, and after finding out my best friend was in love with a vampire, I have to say that I was rather surprised when I didn't wake up with a headache. I actually have no idea what woke me up because I'd had a long lie in planned and hadn't even considered waking before twelve. Maybe it was the playful howls of the cubs as they frolicked in the snow, or the unwelcome sun which came crashing through the window. Or maybe it was the sound of Velvet Revolvers 'Slither' blaring from the next room.

I didn't really know, too disoriented. The light blinded me before I was able to stumble over to the window and shut the blackout curtain. Twice I tried to return to the peaceful reprieve sleep provided, but was unsuccessful. Frustrated, I dressed in jeans and a black peasant blouse and stepped out into the corridor. I'll go and see if Caissian's awake, I thought as I wandered down the hall a short way to the next room. I knocked, no answer. I called her name…nothing. I could still hear the music, quite loud and persistent. It was back at the beginning, playing over. I turned the doorknob and stepped inside. My eyes gradually adjusted to the artificial gloom and I was able to make out the shape of Caissian, curled up in her covers, asleep. The music was louder now and I hunted stealthily around her room for the source. Aha! I picked up the iPhone and looked at its flashing screen, the music sounding from the small device. I rolled my eyes as I read the message. Caissian really was insane if she had Velvet Revolver as her message tone, especially because it was linked to a certain vampire's number. She was really serious about the guy if she'd exchanged numbers with him. I reread the message:

Heya, love.

As ordered by your lovely self, I am telling you the preparations for today.

Meet me at Snails cave at 10: 00 and there, love, we'll be united eternally.

Missing you terribly,

Keep my heart safe until we meet again.

Mikhail xxxxxx

PS. You don't have to wear white, my fallen angel.

I almost gagged at the syrupy sweet words, worrying about his true intentions. I moved further from Caissian's sleeping form and called the number on the message. It rang only once before a sleepy, husky male voice answered.

"Caissian? Is something wrong?" He sounded genuinely worried.

"Sorry Mikhail, it's not Caissian. It's Cyna. We met at the ball."

"Oh, yeah, I remember. How are you?" So polite he was.

"I'm fine, thanks. I just read your little message here and I swear, if you're not completely sure about marrying her and all you really want is a girl on your arm, I will rip you to shreds starting from the bottom and then feed you to my family. Are we clear?" There was absolutely no hesitation with his reply.

"I am incapable of hurting her. Today at Snails cave, she will be married and I swear that for eternity I will do everything I can to make her the happiest wolf alive." There was such sincerity in his voice, that, as he spoke, tears welled in my eyes and a sob lodged in my throat. I said goodbye and quickly hung up.

Caissian never stirred throughout the whole conversation and I placed the phone back on her dresser. I padded over to the bed and sat down on the edge, just watching. The digital clock flashed purple numbers at me. meant she had an hour and a half to get ready. I gently shook her shoulder, stroking silken strands of hair away from her face, angelic in repose. She stirred, eyelids fluttering open, the colour of her irises stolen from a turbulent storm. Her nose wrinkled and her hands rose to brush sleep from her face. She smiled at me until she saw the time. A confused frown creased her brow.

"Is something wrong, Cyna?" She questioned softly.

"You got a text," the clueless girl shrugged her shoulders and I had to add, "from Mikhail," to get any response from her. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a small "o". She was suddenly animated, leaping forward, reaching for the phone. But I was quicker and across the room in a heartbeat, keeping the phone teasingly out of reach.

She pouted at me from her place on the floor.

"Give me the phone, Cyna. You have to give me the phone." I shook my head.

"Give it to me, or at least tell me what it says. Does it say anything about a wedding?"

"Are you allowed out today? No curfews?" I asked, my excitement mounting in accordance with hers. She shook her head in answer to my question. I smiled as I spoke my next words.

"Then you must be at Snail's cave for 10:00, and there, my little friend, will you be married. Gods, I never thought I'd say those words to you." We both laughed and I handed her the phone so she could read the message herself. Her eyes filled with tears as she read and, once finished, looked at me enquiringly.

"Does he mean it? Cyna, is he for real?"

"As it says in his message, you're gonna get married. He told me so himself and he loves you more than anything. I could not have wished for a better husband for you."

She squealed happily and grabbed me into a hug. I couldn't help but get caught up in her happiness, and we both fell back on the bed giggling.

After a while though, she got up and started to rummage around in her closet, looking for a dress, I supposed. She pulled out dress after dress, holding them up for my inspection and tossing them onto different piles. She finally settled on a velvet and lace corset dress of a deep scarlet, interlaced with thin panels of cerulean silk. I did her hair as she applied dramatically beautiful makeup in the mirror. She looked so stunning. When I glanced at the clock again, it was 09:33 and, after she steadfastly refused to wear shoes, I pushed her barefoot out of her room. I watched from the window as she crossed the grounds and went out through the gate, which opened automatically and allowed her to gallop right on through. No one would find it the least bit strange that she was riding bareback into the village. She had never bothered to learn how to properly tack up a horse and ever since she first started riding, always simply mounted the horse as it was and controlled it with her heels and voice. People thought she was crazy; the horse she always rode had a rather violent reputation; if anyone other than Caissian tried to ride him, he would buck and rear, spin and roll like one of those western broncos you see in films. With Caissian, he was gentle as a lamb. As I watched them ride out together, I sighed, wondering whether what I was allowing her to do, was the correct thing. Hopefully that made sense. I turned away, and let fate take control.

Caissian

I can't even begin to explain what I felt. A myriad of emotions, though unfortunately there was enough room left for doubt to creep in and the stallion faltered as my mind was distracted by the intruder. Cyna had dutifully helped me dress, but I had noted the constant furrowing of her brow and recognised it as a sign of her worry. She didn't know whether what I was doing was right. I understood. Really, I did. But nothing could have stopped me, not the apocalypse which the blind man on the corner with his board kept on predicting was imminent, not Mrs Craųžas escaping goats, nothing. I galloped through the towering gates and right on through the village, past the small convent on the outskirts and started my ascent into the mountains. I used an old pig trail to navigate my way through the heavily forested area, though the trail itself was still too overgrown to be of regular use. I pushed my horse on through the shrubbery, watching for signs of stalkers. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. I was alone. The ground between the trees had only a light covering of snow, the heavy canopy preventing the delicate snowflakes from landing. Mist curled its non-corporeal tendrils around my ankles and caressed my horse's flanks, whispering and sighing. It was stunning. Flowers were all gone but the evergreens sparkled and glistened in the sunlight. A winter hare darted into a bush, crossing the path in front of me and momentarily spooking my horse. He reared, eyes rolling, forelegs flailing. I soothed, my voice pitched low, nudged him gently with my heels until he calmed enough to proceed. I had fifteen minutes and the cave was still a way off. I urged the horse into a canter and guided him through the trees.

I was slightly out of breath when I arrived at the opening in the mountain side. Carved into the rock, I assumed it had been done by nature, was a great cavern. The opening was only large enough to fit a grown man through and it madly deceived anyone who wasn't familiar with it; it hid a grand sized cave full of pools and stalagmites, stalactites and crystals. I parked my ride outside, told him firmly to stay, and prayed he was as obedient as the dogs. I squeezed through the gap easily, stepping from the icy forest into a warm dwelling. A beaten couch sat in the middle of the main part of the cave, the floor quite smooth and flat. Tunnels branched from the central area into smaller caverns and finally led deep into the core of the mountain. No-one but me and the inhabitant knew what was there. No-one was waiting to greet me and I was somewhat disappointed but instinctively wandered through the smallest tunnel, either I'd get lost or meet my future husband. I hoped for the latter and, crossing my fingers, advanced down the passageway.

Snail

I knew the moment Caissian stepped through my doorway, heard her heartbeat quicken in excitement. She'd find the right place, eventually. I glanced at the vampire waiting so patiently at my side. So this was the one who had finally tamed our wild little wolf. He was a very amiable gentleman, all etiquette and cordiality. The Vempiras name bled from his every pore, yet I sensed a ferocity that could equal Caissian, a deep wildness, more beast than anything else. They were well matched. He stood next to me, dressed in a black Armani suit, his shirt a pristine white and his black loafers polished to a shine. He was also devastatingly handsome

(from an entirely non-gay point of view), well muscled, long, black hair and piercing blue eyes. He treated me as an equal, was friendly and didn't look upon me with revulsion or hostility. I hadn't laughed that much since Caissian had last visited. Yes, I approved greatly of her choice. I knew the moment he sensed her, he tensed and his heart raced, his breathing sped up to the point where I thought he was hyperventilating, then he seemed to regain control but his body strained towards the entryway. I heard her footsteps, louder the closer she got and then she was there, looking like a vision in red and blue.

"There's the lady, now. Looking radiant, I might add, sweetie. I've never seen a more beautiful sight."

"You look like little red riding hood." Mikhail smiled broadly as she entered, and the smile she returned was no less exuberant.

"More like the wolf," she was across the room in two seconds flat, up in his arms and clinging fiercely to him. He held her close, the beast contented in both of them.

"Come on, guys. I can't leave you two alone for a minute can I? Not until after you're married. Let's get this marriage under way."

The ceremony was short and sweet, the 'I do's were powerfully announced, and the young couple overjoyed when I pronounced them husband and wife. Now, don't worry, I am actually qualified to marry them, I was ordained as a priest before the mutation began. I was normal looking up until my eighteenth year. My mother was a werewolf of extremely low birth, my father a vampire of the same rank. I am a hybrid, banished by both species. On my eighteenth birthday, the full power of both species ripped through me, physically mutating my body until it formed the body I have now. I am very small now, my back extremely distended and resembling a snails shell, hence the name. My hair grows very thin now; my eyes aren't as bright as they used to be. Mikhail and Caissian are the only ones who treat me like any other person. They sat laughing on my couch, holding hands, drinking celebratory wine. I switched on the TV I'd managed to hook up to an electricity source and sat down next to them. They didn't flinch, not a bit.

A week later, Town Square, 10:54

Malchus

It was absolutely boiling. I knew theElseŵervŏwęs were around, could smell them and if we met up with them, I knew there would be no escaping a fight. Manik was hyped up, teasing me until I almost went mad. Calling me trigger happy and saying that I'll fight for no other reason than someone looking at me funny. It wasn't true. He was in extremely high spirits and I wondered at the source of his vivacity. After a while, I relaxed when no threat came upon us. Manik couldn't seem to drop the subject of my apparent need to fight, he danced around me like a man possessed as I lounged with my friends on the steps of the town hall. My suit was pinstriped grey, and the jacket lay on the marble steps beside me. I tried my best to keep it clean but I never seemed to accomplish it. Myron was playing on his phone beside me, probably texting some girl. People past by, all greeted us, some with a wave, others a 'hello'. We were much better liked than the Elseŵervŏwęs, accepted better. The wolves were too predatory, even the humans recognised it, and though they were respected, people feared them too much to like them.

"Oh, crap." I slapped Manik's shoulder as he sat down beside me. "Here come the Elseŵervŏwęs."

"I don't care," his flippant tone answered. I glared at him but he just laughed and leaned back onto his elbows, tapping his foot to a silent rhythm. I tensed as they approached us, leather trench coats billowing out behind them, Goth boots pounding the tarmac. Why were the wolves always Goths? I mean seriously? What was with the coloured hair and black clothes?

"It's cool, and it suits us." Constantine answered my thoughts until I realised that I'd spoken aloud.

He stood grinning at us, with his friends fanned out behind him, all ready to fight.

"I want a word with one of you." His voice aggravated me, portentous ass.

"Only one word? Combine it with something else; make it a word and a strike." Manik engaged the psycho in a verbal battle, not letting anything go by without a retort.

"Give me reason to fight and I'll fight." I truly hated that guy.

"You can't fight without a reason? I'm disappointed in you, Connie," Manik was really pushing the boundaries now.

"Manik, you consort with Mikhail-" Constantine didn't even finish his sentence before Manik was up in his face.

"Whoa, man. Consort? We are not his little jesters!" He started dancing 'round in a circle, slapping his hands on his knees and tapping a stick on the ground. "Here's my fiddle-stick, dance, boy, dance!" I put a stop to it, not liking where this conversation was going.

"We're in a public place, Constantine, where anyone can overhear. We can either go to a more private place and talk about this or you can leave. Now."

Unfortunately, Manik just had to thwart that offer. "Let them look. I'm not leaving for anybody." He smirked, then his expression grew even haughtier and he nodded his head in the direction of the café. The Elseŵervŏwęs turned as one to see what he was indicating.

"Doesn't matter now, anyway. Here he comes." There was a low growl at the end of his words which was echoed by the wolves he had brought with him.

Constantine moved to intercept Mikhail as he walked towards us. My cousin looked extremely well rested and was not at all his usual melancholy self. He was happy, relaxed. I frowned out of confusion and watched as the scene played out.

"I hate you so much that I don't really know if there is a name I can use to describe it. You are a villain of the worst sort." Constantine's face was hard with the force of his hatred and I started to rise. Manik pushed me down and parked himself next to me, a look of censure in his expression. I waited for Mikhail's retort, knowing that his personality wouldn't let a comment like that slide. I was disappointed.

"Constantine, the reason that forces me to like you is the only thing which is saving you from a great deal of pain I usually would have delivered after that greeting. I am no villain. So leave, you obviously don't know me well enough for me to grace you with an audience."

"So polite. Did they teach you that comeback in your posh little school? 'An audience.' Who talks like that now?" Constantine mocked Mikhail with little style, but his cronies guffawed ridiculously at his side. Mikhail stood motionless and accepted the comment. Constantine continued, "This doesn't excuse how much you have hurt me. Fight me."

"I've never hurt you, and I love you more than you'll ever be able to comprehend, but until you know the reason for my love, just chill. Lay off us for a while."

Myron

I watched the spectacle from the steps. They seemed to have forgotten about me. It wasn't easily done. I was a close relation to the Elseŵervŏwęs and very friendly with my cousins. I waited for some response to Mikhail's order. When none came, I thought it had worked.

Until Manik opened his big, fat mouth.

"Oh, how I hate it when people just back down! Connie, wolf boy, will you fight?"

"What do want?"

"One of your nine lives, wolf boy. Or is it cats that have nine lives?" Manik procured a retractable sword from his bag and, with a flick of his wrist, opened it to its full length. The blade glinted wickedly in the sunlight as Manik danced on the spot.

"Alrighty, guess I won't be disappointed today then, huh?" Constantine drew a cruel looking sword from the concealed scabbard on his back, grinning malevolently as he twirled it masterfully. I was on my feet as soon as the second blade was in the hands of its master.

"Manik, stop. Please stop. Retract your sword." Mikhail's voice was full of authority and extreme worry. He started towards the circling duo only to be held back by three of the wolves, I was restrained by the three which had come later, Malchus by another three. I could have taken them, we all could have, but it seemed that Manik just wanted to prove something and I doubted that either was fighting to kill. I watched in shocked amazement as they began to fight. Their swords clashed together midair. Immediately, Constantine countered, ducking low, pivoting and slashing. He missed as Manik sliced to the side. Their swords met again. In the next instant Manik raised his blade and Constantine rammed it high. He spun, aiming for Manik's neck.

My friend darted out of the way with a grin. "Getting slow, Connie." The wolf stabbed forward, his sword and a small dagger he'd somehow acquired swinging simultaneously. Manik quickly lost his smile as he was forced to duck. He stumbled backward and Constantine's sword nearly sank into his stomach, but Manik blocked, swung. Thrust. That low thrust grazed Constantine's thigh, slicing cloth rather than skin. By now a small crowd had gathered, most people were at work, and were surveying the display as though it were a performance. I went back to watching the battle with wide eyes. I saw Constantine drop to one knee; absorb the next blow with the small dagger. He swiftly regained his footing, and lunged forward. Their fiery gazes met and Manik scowled. He swung to the left, missed, then swung to the right. At that moment, Mikhail broke free of his guards and his momentum carried him into the battle, between the two warriors.

A tortured cry filled the air and I looked at Mikhail expecting to see blood, but it was the body he was so tenderly grasping that was pouring out a crimson river.

"I am hurt." Manik's voice was soft with the pain. "A plague o' both your houses, little thing for you there, Mikhail. So you understand." Mikhail chuckled sadly at his attempt at humour. Trust Manik to joke as he lay bleeding to death. "It's just a scratch, guys. Don't worry."

"Courage, man, you can't be hurt that much." Denial. I never thought I see that on Mikhail.

"No, it's not deep or wide, but ask for me tomorrow and they'll lead you to my grave." His voice was getting weaker. The guards had released me and Malchus and we knelt beside them both as Manik bled. Mikhail had packed the wound with cloth to slow blood loss, but we all knew that even with a doctor present, nothing could be done.

He'd been stabbed by a vampire-made sword, the only thing that could kill us with even the slightest wound. The same applied to vampires being killed by werewolf-made swords. By the look of shock on Constantine's face, he'd forgotten that the sword he carried was the one thing that was sure to kill us.

"Why'd you get between us? I was hurt under your arm." Manik whispered to my cousin.

Mikhail turned ashen, and anguish seared itself onto his features.

"I was only trying to help." His voice was aggrieved. Manik's body seized and his eyes glazed over. He died on an exhalation of breath and a wave of grief washed over us. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Mikhail stiffen, his mouth turned harsh and his eyes smouldered with an all consuming rage. He rose up slowly, to his full 6ft 7 height, and towered over the wolf. I moved quickly out of the way as I saw his blue eyes turn ruby red and his canines extended past his lower lip. His upper lip curled back over them, revealing all of his pearly whites.

"You killed my best friend; he was like family, werewolf! It seems my wife's beauty has made me somewhat effeminate, and softened whatever anger I could have drawn upon. But trust me when I say that I will not hesitate to kill you now. You can keep Manik company." He growled the words, he petrified even me. Constantine's group shrank back under the force of his anger. Constantine did not.

"You were his friend. You keep him company!" Constantine charged, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.

Mikhail flipped Manik's fallen blade up off the floor with the toe of his boot, and twirled it in his hand. His free hand grew razor sharp claws, made for tearing flesh. Without warning, Mikhail jammed his elbow into Constantine's nose. Blood squirted and the wolf howled as he tripped, falling away from striking distance, and flinging gravel in every direction.

"Get up!" Mikhail commanded.

"You'll pay for that!" The werewolf jumped to his feet and ran straight at him, continuously stabbing forward. My cousin dodged the swords, dropped low and delivered an uppercut to the wolf's jaw, and another into his stomach. An elbow to the back of his neck had him back on the floor. Unfortunately, Constantine recovered quickly and performed a flying kick to Mikhail's head. It never landed though. Mikhail grasped the leg that came at his head and twisted; Constantine righted himself before he hit the floor. He came at Mikhail, sword forgotten for the moment, fists delivering practiced blows. My cousin took all of them with next to no damage. He deflected the ones that would cause harm and when Constantine began to weaken, landed punches of his own. The wolf reclaimed his sword and pressed forward, stalking. Mikhail circled quickly, blade blocking. I could tell that his muscles were beginning to burn, and sweat began to run rivulets down his face and chest. Constantine, looking extremely tired and worn, arched high, intending to puncture his shoulder on the downward swing, but Mikhail hit his wrist and Constantine dropped the sword. A forward thrust from Mikhail and the wolf was impaled. He pulled the sword from the body; Constantine was already dead.

The wolves howled but didn't attack, they knew that their boss had fought well, but lost to a more skilled opponent. They respected that. They took their fallen leader and walked away.

"You've got to go. Run, somewhere, anywhere. Hide, please, cousin." I heard Malchus beg. I stepped up beside him and reiterated the plea. Neither of my cousins were stupid and without another word Mikhail took off. We stood there for a while, unable to think past the spectacle and the death of a very dear friend. Sure we regretted the death of Constantine, but we were hardly going to grieve for him. Our senses alerted us to the arrival of Hans Velsting. Apparently the day could get worse.

Hans Velsting

I really hated those supernatural freaks. Always ruinin' my day. I'd got a call from some little old lady who was complainin' that the noise outside her 'ouse was too loud. So, I 'ad to come down an' investigate. An' what do I find? Bloodbath. Vamps against Weres. I was damn tired of it all. According to the witnesses, Constantine Elseŵervŏwę and Manik Vempiras 'ad started playfully fightin'. Then it had got out o' hand and Constantine 'ad killed the Vempiras boy. 'Is friends 'ad then attacked, well one of them, Mikhail, who I 'ad always thought was a very sensible guy, and he'd killed Constantine. All the witnesses said basically the same thing. His friends gave the same version, if not wi' more detail. I didn't know what to do.

Lady Elseŵervŏwę came loping into the square, in Wolf form, furious as hell, springin' at the vamps which remained. I fired a shot an' she swerved to the side, runnin' at me, changin' as she did. She stood in front of me, eyes enraged, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"My nephew is dead! How did that happen when you are supposed to be policing? You better talk quick, before my husband gets here and kills your ass! Explain, NOW!" I 'ad an angry she-wolf in my face and I 'ad to talk fast if I wanted to live. I told her everything, explaining again when Lord Elseŵervŏwę finally appeared.

They demanded justice for the death of their nephew, didn't believe a word when I recounted the witness statements.

"Mikhail Vempiras must die!"

"He killed your nephew after Constantine killed Manik Vempiras. It seems it was entirely justified. Vengeance, you know." They didn't appear appeased.

"WE WANT HIM DEAD!" I kinda figured that, since they had said it about fifty times.

"He's banished, that will have to do. He can never return. To this village. An' you, I am finin' you, for so much. Your nephew was responsible for most of this trouble. You will pay his dues." I walked away, ordered a crew to clean the blood from the Square and went to talk to the forensic investigators. I couldn't let the blood be tested; it wasn't human.

Caissian

I was so happy, wandering through the orchard, waiting for the night to come. With the darkness came Mikhail. Always, without fail. I needed him, like air and the daylight hours apart, where we could pass in the street but never touch, never speak. It hurt so much. I leaned against a tree, shading myself from the sun. It was still snowing though, and I scooped handfuls of it off the ground and moulded it to resemble a ball. I lobbed them at the windows of the house, laughing when bewildered faces came to look and, on seeing me, frowned or laughed. I was still bored. I needed my husband. Ooh, husband. I never thought I'd say that, ever. I wandered a little further through the bare trees, listening to the birds, the caws of the crows, the tweeting sparrows, so peaceful, so damn cheery. I found a Willow, leaves aplenty and settled on a dry patch of ground beneath it. Pulling out my copy of Dante's Inferno, I picked up where I left off.

I was so engrossed in Dante's words that I didn't hear Cyna approach. The giant yellow ball in the sky had started to go down and I was losing light. I turned to greet her with a smile, a smile that died as soon as I saw her face. It was tightly drawn with grief. I was up in a flash, by her side, grasping her arms gently.

"What's wrong Cyna? You look awful."

"Gee, thanks a lot," she said wryly. I smiled apologetically.

"Really, what's the matter? You've got to tell me." I encouraged the words she seemed to have such a hard time speaking.

"You better sit down again then." I obediently sat, smiling in bewilderment.

"He's dead, he's dead he's dead. We're ruined."

The smile dropped off my face. My heart stopped, I couldn't breathe, my vision dimmed.

"Is Mikhail dead? Did he kill himself?" I was beside myself with grief, and tears spilled down my cheeks. Cyna, too, had tears running down her face, soaking the neck of the t-shirt she wore.

"I saw the wound myself. Right through his heart. He was so pale and so full of blood….." She broke down in wracking sobs. I fell sideways on the ground, unable to keep my body upright as the waves of sorrow threatened to drown me.

"Oh, oh my heart is breaking. Cyna I'm dying. Mikhail!" I knew that I sounded pathetic but couldn't summon the energy to care.

"Constantine, Constantine is dead." I managed to pull myself a little way out of my well of grief to become confused.

"What? Both Constantine and Mikhail are dead? My beloved cousin and my even more loved husband? How am I still living when they are both gone?" My grief was even deeper now and I felt that I would surely die.

"Constantine is dead, and Mikhail is in exile." She whispered the words through her tears.

"Oh, gods. Did Mikhail kill Constantine?" I could barely speak the words.

"Yes." Such a simple word, three letters, but they nearly killed me. I waited to die. It didn't happen.

"Where are my parents?"

"Grieving over Constantine's body." Her grief seemed to clear and she ordered me, "Go to your room. All the servants are in their quarters. They've been ordered not to leave until they're called. I'll go get Mikhail to comfort you. I know where he is. I'll bring him to you, he's hiding with Snail." I hugged her close to me in thanks.

"Yes, please go. Take him this." I removed the beautiful mood ring he'd given to me after the wedding, as a gift. At the moment, it was black as the purest night. She left me in a hurry. I heard the car leave the garage and drive away. I dragged myself to my room.

Snails Cave

Mikhail

I rushed into Snails cave, out of breath and in agony. He met me at the entrance and helped me inside. My body was severely bruised from the blows I'd taken, and a few minor cuts from the slicing of the dagger.

"What's the verdict?" I asked without preamble.

"Not death, but exile, banishment." He smiled as if that were good news.

"Please say you're joking. Please say that death is my real punishment." He looked confused until I elaborated. "Banishment means I am sentenced to hell, heaven is here, where Caissian is. To be banished is to die. Everyone and everything can look at her, hear her, touch her, but I can't." The last words came out a cry.

"Listen to me, you crazy person." Snail spoke but I could not listen.

"You're just going to talk of how banishment is so much better than death aren't you?" I rambled on and on until he interrupted again. I was in so much despair and I hated to think about how Caissian was taking the news of her cousin's death. They'd been really close. Would she hate me? I thought it so many times and couldn't quite dismiss the idea that she might.

"Apparently mad men are deaf now, huh?" Snail said sarcastically. A knocking sound broke me out of my reverie and I started at the sound. Snail tried pushing me into a closet but after some persistent batting at his hands, he subsided and walked through the tunnel into the main area. I followed.

"I'm here on behalf of Caissian, she asked me to give this to Mikhail." I recognised the softer, more prominently accented voice of Caissian's best friend.

I could not bring myself to see her, and lay back on a chaise situated in one of the tunnels.

"Tell me, is Mikhail here? I need to see him." I heard footsteps and then felt the presence of two people.

"There he is. Drunk with grief."

"Caissian's in the same state. She lies crying, won't stop crying and is in great pain." I looked up to see the pretty face drawn with sadness. "Get up, get up and be a man. For Caissian. Please."

"How is she? Does she hate me? Where is she?" I couldn't get the questions out fast enough. Leaping up, I stood next to her and awaited the answers both eagerly and with consternation.

"She says nothing, Mikhail. Only cries for Constantine and cries for you, gets up before falling down to cry some more. It's getting quite tiresome actually." She heaved out a frustrated breath. I began to walk towards the entrance, meaning to go, but Cyna pulled my hand, drawing me to a stop. Wordlessly, she slipped the mood ring on my finger and pushed me back towards the opening. I left, ran on light feet to her home.

Elseŵervŏwę Mansion

Caissian

I jumped at the knock at the window. I half heaved myself up from my foetal position on the bed to stare at the glass. I saw nothing. The tears still ran down my face, and I knew my eyes were red and puffy, my lips swollen from the constant biting. As soon as I lay down the window eased open and large shoulders pushed their way into my bedroom. My breath caught in my throat as the figure stood in my room, staring at me. I wiped at the tears, trying to improve my dishevelled appearance, but as soon as I lifted my hands to smooth my messy hair, he was there, gripping my wrists lightly and pulling me into his lap. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, hiding in his sweater. I sobbed; for him, for Constantine, for me. I felt his hand in my curls, stroking, the other rubbing my back. My hands fisted in his hair, and we just sat there, rocking gently, both needing the comfort only the other could provide. After what seemed like forever, I drew back to look up at his face. The tear tracks didn't mar the perfection of him, and he looked delicious even in his sorrow. We simply sat and stared at each other, his eyes traced every inch of my face, his fingers following the path. He wiped away my tears, and as he bent to kiss me my door flew open, ripped off its hinges, a large shadow filling the room. I gasped as I recognised the face of the intruder. Count Farek. His hair was cropped short, but longer strands fell over his face. He was a lean but small man, no more than 5ft 8, and his pale green eyes sparked with anger. Mikhail stood, pushed me behind him. No one moved. Farek prowled into the room, stood almost nose to chest with Mikhail, trying to intimidate. This was probably really hard to do since Mikhail was a whole foot taller than him. I peered out from under my husbands arm, glaring daggers at the conceited man before us.

"Vampire!" Farek hissed, revealing pitiful excuses for fangs. I sniggered at his attempt to frighten us both. With a laugh of his own, Mikhail smiled and revealed his own serious hardware, the tips of the canines almost reaching the bottom of his chin. Of course, he could retract and extend to any size, but he settled for one in between. Farek's complexion visibly turned pallid and he backed up a step.

"She's mine, Vempiras. She's promised to me." Had to give the Count credit for trying. He stared at me with an intense expression and I almost attacked at the possessiveness in that gaze. Mikhail turned slightly to regard me.

"Do you want to be with this man, love? In any way?" He raised his brows questioningly.

I shook my head. Hard. No way did I want to be anything to that man. Seemingly satisfied with my vehement denial, Mikhail turned fully back to my suitor.

"See? She doesn't want to be with you. Now leave." His face was stoic. Farek advanced, adrenaline fuelling the motion. I snarled as he walked towards us, the sound low and threatening, exposing my own set of razor teeth. Mikhail forced me right into a corner and I only allowed it because of the fierce concentration on his face. I got that look when I was about to beat the crap outta someone. Cyna had told me loads of times. I watched them circle. I waited.

A roar. Farek leapt at Mikhail, shifting in mid-air, landing hard against his chest as a light brown wolf. The wolf was as lean as his human counterpart, and didn't really budge Mikhail from his spot. I heard my husband grunt at the impact before he grabbed the wolf's scruff and flung him across my room. I winced in sympathetic pain and obviously made some sound because Mikhail whipped round to face me.

"He needs his ass kicking," I said to grant my permission. Mikhail kissed my hand before focusing once again on his opponent, hair flying as he pivoted with inhuman speed. Farek was dragging himself onto all fours, panting. He wouldn't last in a fight against one of the most passionate vampires I'd ever known. Every emotion Mikhail felt was amplified by the passion inside of him. Love. Sadness. Anger. Hate. A dangerous combination. He wasn't even out of breath. I watched, immobile with….excitement? Concern? I didn't really know.

In slow motion, I saw Farek pull a sword from the display hooks on the wall, a blade created by the Fae in the early 2nd century. It wouldn't kill on contact, but the wounds inflicted would heal human slow. Farek, a fencing enthusiast, alla staccatoed and performed swashing blows that weren't really up to standard. My eyebrows were raised in disbelief as he handled the sword as though he were a master. My baby cousin had better skill with a sword than him. My expression was mirrored exactly on Mikhail's face and we exchanged a grin. I tossed a blade to him and he caught it expertly in one hand. That sword was manufactured by the Dragon Folk before they were wiped out in the middle ages. It would do similar damage as the Fae sword, but was lighter and easier to manoeuvre. The hilt was beautifully shaped to resemble two dragons entwined and the eyes were bright sapphires. I loved that sword.

Farek made the first move, too confident in his ability to realise that he was greatly out-skilled. Mikhail blocked his swing and they traded blows and thrusts. Mikhail rammed the hilt of the sword into Farek's stomach and the wolf doubled in pain. He whined piteously, saw my disgusted expression and launched towards my vampire, sword flailing uselessly, nowhere near its intended target. I stifled a giggle. Their blades clanked together, the force vibrating both weapons; I had no doubt that the impact had jarred their arms, but neither relinquished their hold. Mikhail brought his sword up, the dragon metal singing as it sliced through the air. Farek wasn't fast enough and the metal cut into his shoulder, drawing blood. With a howl, Farek lost his blade and, in a fit of pure rage, attacked Mikhail with his bare hands, claws extended. I watched as he ducked to avoid the Count's assault, dropped his sword purposely and punched Farek in the gut again. He brought his knee up hard, breaking Farek's nose before kicking the guy onto the floor. The wolf lay there, stunned for a while. I started to rise, believing the fight was over, but I saw Farek move. Suddenly he was latched onto Mikhail's back, claws ripping at flesh, trying to slash the jugular. Farek was fighting to kill now, not just for possession of me. I flung a Japanese fighting star at the parasite attached to my husband, heard his screams as the sharpened blades ripped into his skin, slicing through muscle and embedding itself in bone. Mikhail hurled the injured Count into a wall, I heard bones crack and Count Farek lay still. There was no heartbeat, no breath. His back and neck had been broken and his death had been immediate. I couldn't summon regret or distress over his demise.

Mikhail stepped away from the corpse, tugged me up from my place on the floor, where I'd huddled in the corner, determined not to be a distraction. He hauled me into his embrace, wrapping his strong arms around my waist; I sighed with contentment amidst the stench of war and death. I started packing decisively, stuffing underwear, t-shirts, dresses, skirts, pants, everything, into various rucksacks and hold-alls. Everything I loved, I packed. Mikhail took my bags, leaping from the balcony to the ground and securing my belongings to his purple Harley. We were packed and secured and ready to go in just under half an hour. With one last look at my near empty room, I bounded from the balcony and landed on my feet alongside his bike. He grinned at me; and then slung one leather-encased leg over the vehicle and turned to me, one brow raised in expectation. Not liking the challenge in his eyes, I climbed onto the seat behind him, smoothing my lace and silk Goth skirt, wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and nestled my face into his back. I pressed small kisses to his bared neck, and he revved the engine, opened the throttle and we flew down the road, past fountains and statues. Then we were off Elseŵervŏwę land and speeding through the village. Half an hour later and we were out of the small town's boundaries, heading towards Bucharest. We planned to stop before we reached the capital, but for now, we were free.

Elseŵervŏwę Mansion

Cyna

I returned home to the most awful of situations. My master and mistress had already returned and I walked through the door to screaming and yelling, growling and snarling. I handed my coat to one of the servants before approaching the incensed Alphas. I dipped low in a sign of submission, exposing my neck as I got closer. They tsked when they saw my actions.

"Stand up straight, honey. How many times have we told you not to do that? You're our daughter's best friend; you don't have to bow to us." Cailen spoke with surprising calm, but her pacing was agitated and her body rigid with the need to enact violence. I touched her arm to comfort her. I could smell the death, could smell the fight, the scent of vampire. Or more specifically, Vempiras. She'd gone with him. I knew it in my heart of hearts that she probably wouldn't be coming back, was glad that she'd run with Mikhail, but worried. I knew that the Elseŵervŏwęs knew that their daughter had run, they had better noses than me. They'd put two and two together and come to the same conclusion as me. I wandered upstairs, following the scents to Caissian's room. I tentatively poked my head around the doorjamb, the smell overwhelming. Farek was dead, Constantine was dead. Manik was dead. How many more deaths before this war was resolved? Pressing my lips together in a thin line, I turned to walk back downstairs.

I was descending the staircase, trying to banish the images those scents had conjured, when I overheard the Alphas discussing battle tactics. They were going to wage an all out war on the Vempiras'. I stumbled slightly at the notion, and the noise drew all attention to me. I smiled weakly as Caiman rushed to my side.

"Just feel a little sick." I covered my actions with a half truth. He gripped my elbow to support me, and led me to an armchair. I settled in and listened as they continued discussing methods of killing all the Vempiras' line. I was horrified. Of course I could fight, enjoyed it when there was reason to fight. I didn't agree with an all out genocide, or whatever you would call it, just because of a prejudice species. I subtly slipped my phone out, text a quick warning to Caissian, told her to warn Mikhail. Maybe they could stop it. It was a vain hope, I know, but I needed some hope.

Five days later, Clearing on the outskirts of the village, Midnight

Mikhail

The text Caissian had received had worried her no end. She hadn't slept at all, tossing and turning. Finally she'd begged me to return with her, and loving her like I did, I complied. We pulled onto the road which would lead to the village, but stopped a few miles outside of it. The landscape was nothing but trees. Towering monsters and meek shrubs. The snow was still falling and it soon covered the stationary vehicle, and us. Cyna's recent text had told us that my parents had agreed to the Elseŵervŏwęs challenge and both families had set the time and date. She'd given us the details and told us to hurry. It was midnight, silent except for the sound of owls calling to their mates. My wife stood tall beside me, gripping my hand so tightly that, had I been human, it would have been nothing but mulch. Her hair was tied back in a thick braid and she was dressed in baggy black jeans and a velvet top with a plunging neckline and no sleeves. In that moment I thought her so beautiful. So strong. Eyes like the storm clouds pinned me with a tender gaze before she tugged me west, through the trees, to a large clearing in the dense woods. We were too late.

The sounds of battle had been muted by the wind and density of the forest, our ears hadn't picked up a thing. Blood was already spattered on the ground though I could see no fallen warriors. The Elseŵervŏwęs were in Wolf form, black, brown, white. My family were lightly armoured, in their full transition from man to vampire. The vampire side only showed during times of great anger, or danger. Or when we went to war. I saw my cousins in the battle, Malchus, the pacifist; obviously forced to fight. Myron, quiet and sensible, but always eager to battle. They were both very skilled swordsmen and I wasn't really worried for them. I searched through the clashing bodies, ducked as vampires and wolves whizzed over my head. Caissian darted off on her own and I reached out to catch her but missed. I hunted frantically for her but couldn't see.

A sword was pressed into my hand and I looked up to see my uncle Mercer, fangs elongated to sabre-tooth tiger size, eyes red and bat-like black wings tucked tight against his body. I grinned and he turned to attack another advancing wolf. I continued to scan the crowd for sight of my wife, but to no avail. I fought anyone who engaged me, working my way through the mass until I reached the other side of the clearing. I saw Caissian in human form fighting with an expertise I didn't know she possessed. The blade flashed in her hand as she thrust the tip of it into his body. He fell to the floor, moaning in pain. She hit him in the head with the sword hilt to render him unconscious, stepped over him and blocked a thrust from an opposing sword. I moved towards her as her opponent backhanded her and she fell back. I needn't have worried. She spun up into the air and delivered a roundhouse kick to his head, snapping his neck. The vampire crumpled to the frozen ground. She looked up suddenly and grinned at me, canines flashing and eyes sparking. A loud howl reverberated around the glade, a roar answered it and all combatants froze. Few bodies were scattered around, blood soiled the perfect whiteness which lay on the land. Caissian's face fell, turned ashen with fear as she barged her way through the congregated fighters.

Stood in the centre of the living circle, were the leaders. Lord Claus and Lady Cailen Elseŵervŏwę stood in their human shapes, claws extended to lethal points and canines bursting from their mouths. Facing them, were my parents. Lord Malachi and Lady Melodi Vempiras stood, lips pulled back over extremely long fangs, eyes like fire and their black leathery wings unfurled, spread wide behind them. Both species were truly frightening and I fought my way to Caissian's side, unsure of what to do. She stared up at me with wide fearful eyes, tears swimming, perilously close to falling and I wrapped her hand in mine as a show of solidarity. We couldn't intervene. It wasn't the way of either species. The Alphas fought, they'd issued a challenge to each other. I held my breath as they began to fight.

Caissian

I was distraught. It was the last thing I'd ever imagined would happen. I fall in love and my parents try to kill my in-laws. I couldn't tear my gaze from the war raging in front of me. As soon as we'd arrived we'd been thrown into the fight, and I admit, I'd loved the fighting, I always have and always will. But seeing my parents deliver a full blown challenge, as in a fight to the death, that terrified me to my very core. I gripped Mikhail's hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. I was compelled to watch as they circled each other. My mother started the fight, obviously, with a roundhouse kick, disarming Melodi and knocking her so she fell. The vampires hissed as they saw their leader fall and swayed forward. Malachi attacked my mother only to be intercepted by my father who slashed downwards with his sword and cut into his rival's thigh. Blood dripped from the wound but still the vampire deflected my father's assault. I had to admire their dexterity.

I watched my mother face off against Melodi, air whistled, zinged as they both wildly swung their swords. Blood dripped down my mothers face, a lucky hit by Malachi, but she continued. She stabbed low, then up, twisting before Melodi could counter. The tip of her sword whizzed by the vampires face and the woman paled. Malachi shouted out but was too preoccupied by my father's practised lunges and swipes. He had to concentrate very hard to avoid being impaled. He shoved my father, who used the momentum to spin around and slice into Malachi's other thigh. He shouted as his knees buckled.

"Get up!" I heard my father snarl, "I'm not through with you yet!"

Gritting his teeth, the vampire lord lumbered to his feet. He still clutched his weapon. His eyes were dark red with rage, lips swollen with his thirst for victory. He slid a dagger from his boot. Two blades against two blades.

Instantly, he and my father leapt for each other. One blade clashed, then the other, a lethal dance of dodge and slash. My father spun as he worked his blades, lunged and stabbed.

I checked to see how my mother was doing.

Turned my head just as Melodi's blade hit home, jabbing into my mothers side. I screamed in unison with her and we both dropped to our knees. Melodi's momentum prevented her from drawing back. Or that's what I thought. Until I saw the Elseŵervŏwęs family crest on the hilt protruding from Melodi's stomach. Her scream was somewhat delayed, perhaps by shock, but it came eventually, piercing all who heard it. Mikhail fell to his knees beside me and we clung to each other. I felt no anger though, only excruciatingly painful grief. I saw my father whirl to catch her as she fell, saw Malachi do the same with his wife. They held their wives as they died, holding their anger in check until the souls had departed. A sign of respect for loved ones. Guess we had something in common. Our cultures were really similar. All heads were bowed, until the sounds of metal clanking penetrated the silence.

Our fathers were at it again. That was it. The deciding fight. Who would win, and who would die. Tears welled in my eyes. Mikhail sat down on the ground, heedless of the snow and blood, and gathered me into his lap. I couldn't let go. I felt like I was dying along with my father. Half of me had died with my mother and now I felt every wound my father received. Mikhail was feeling the same; the pain in his eyes was so intense. Their swords were coated in blood, their breathing heavy, sweat running rivers down their bodies. One moment they were attacking, the next they were impaled on each others swords. I rushed to my father, Mikhail by my side, rushing to his. Werewolves, vampires, all tried to stop us but we were beyond hearing, beyond feeling. I pulled the sword from my fathers stomach and flung it to the ground, gathered his head into my lap and hummed a Romanian ditty to him; his favourite. I huddled in the snow, hugging him to me, singing. I watched as the light in his eyes winked out and I was left looking into glazed orbs, the soul which usually shone from them, gone. I wept, not caring about the onlookers. I went to Mikhail, who was still watching his father's motionless form, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. We stood as one, in front of his coven and my pack.

"No more! No more fighting, no more death, no more hatred. We are not so different. Why do we fight? Because of our ancestors' jealousy? Is it reason enough to permit this?" Mikhail's voice was strong and he gestured around at the deceased. I heard mutters of agreement from the crowd.

"We cannot hate each other because of our ancestors' disputes. We are not them, will never be them, but because of them, we have lost so much. Family, friends, leaders. I love this man. He's a Vempiras, heir to their throne actually. And I'm heir to the Elseŵervŏwę throne. We need to stand together, against outside threats. Apart we are strong. Together we are invincible." I finished my speech to howls of approval, whistles and applause. The vampires moved forward, towards the bodies of my parents and I flinched somewhat, but they merely kneeled at our feet, bowing low in submission. We acknowledged their support. They bent to pick my parents up, gently cradling them and began a procession out of the clearing. Werewolves, too, came forward, pledging themselves to both me and Mikhail, accepting us as their alphas. They lifted Mikhail's parents and followed the procession out. Others tended to the wounded and carried the dead. I looked at my husband with awe and relief shining in my eyes. He laughed in disbelief and, after a while, I allowed myself to join in; they were all singing my fathers favourite Romanian ditty.

Two Days Later, Clearing on the outskirts of the village, 13:34

Caissian

The funeral. The sun was shining and it was the most spectacular vision. It had been unanimous that both families be buried where they had died, as a sign of the things we had lost. Every vampire, Vempiras or not, that belonged to the family was there, scattered in the werewolf crowd. Amidst them, not on opposite sides. I smiled as the priest performed the funeral rites, saw Snail in the shadows and leaned against Mikhail, my husband, my strength, my soul mate. I stared at the freshly covered graves, at the snow melting all around. Winter was almost over.

"The snow always melts." Mikhail whispered in my ear. I squeezed his arm where it was wrapped around my waist and considered his words. He was right. The snow melted after winter to make way for the life giving warmth of spring. It signified a new beginning, death brought about life. The death of our parents had brought about a new life for us all, and gave us the chance to raise a new generation that lived in harmony with one another, were allies, were friends. Were equals. I placed a hand over my lower belly, felt the life stirring inside my womb. And started to laugh.