In the lingering moment that I had allowed my mind to lose itself in the inappropriate and completely wonderful kiss he was gone. My eyes blinked at the sight of the bureau in the place that Quincey had stood. Only the rhythmic tock from the grandfather clock downstairs broke up the utterly complete silence in the large room. My body shivered suddenly registering how cold it was in the room alone and away from the comfort of my bed linens. I had allowed the fire to dwindle down and walked over to place a small log across the barely glowing embers. Pulling the robe tighter around my chest I could still smell him; I hoped the scent would not soon fade as I inhaled the fabric deeply. Slowly my mind was able to comprehend the message Quincey had come to tell me and the longing for my suddenly absent lover was quickly replaced with a rush of pure terror at his news.

John had been watching me!

His return had not been unexpected, but I had anticipated some sign; unexplained death notices in the local newspaper or unexplained animals on the grounds at night. But he had returned and was here without the least of my knowledge. Examining the securely latched windows in my room I looked out into the midnight blackness of night for any sign of the demon now, but all that was to be heard was various scrapping of branches and the rattling of the windows against the blistery late winter weather. Every tap every howl of the wind played tricks with my mind; perhaps it was John at my door, but Quincey was out there somewhere; watching over me. Had he not assured me of that? In a twist of the heavens; he was protecting one lone woman as he used to protect many soldiers at war. I felt the inkling that my memory reminded that that was inaccurate; rarely as an officer in the British army had Captain Harker protected anyone; often he had lead them to a violent and unjust death. The thought of John's diary plagued my mind, reminding me of sitting in the dimly lit room at the hospital pouring over the journal that told twisted tales of inhuman brutality and unfathomable cruelty. The shock to my body the first day I had met Captain Harker; never had such an ice taken in my veins. But there was more to the day of our first meeting; even though I had known everything I was not supposed to of him as a monster from the journal I had still found him handsome, it was hard to imagine that he was possibly the same dark figure of John's memories. I thought about the face that had only moments ago gazed at me with an adoration that surely I mirrored in my own face. But this could not be the same man. He had said he no longer took innocents, why did I have to remind myself of this?

Setting the candle down on the table next to a chair I pulled two old quilts from the trunk and wrapped myself into a tight ball trying to stay vigilant and awake in the night. I didn't want to think about the diary any longer; I wanted to think of the man that had declared his love to me; that had saved my life not once but twice and was now here again for my sake. The man that prickled my skin with the soft touch of his lips. And his kiss was the only thought I needed to warm myself again into a dark nightmare filled sleep.

I awoke breathless by the screeching sound at the window. The noise played with the terrible images I had seen in my sleep; causing sheer panic to run mercilessly throughout me. The scratching of something sharp dragging against the window's glass was awful; but as soon as I reached out my arm to grab a hold of the candle it stopped completely. From underneath the old quilts I didn't move; waiting for the noise to continue. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my robe feeling for the reassurance of holy water I had pulled from the table earlier, it was still there cold and ready against my shaking fingers. The room remained silent as I slowly pulled the blankets from my lap. The window the noise had come from was on the other side of the room; I couldn't see anything, except what looked to be a thin branch or twig lying against the glass; perhaps it was truly just the night wind battering the birch trees alongside the house. My feet moved at a hesitant pace; while my heart encouraged each step,

'Be Brave Mary, you are no longer a child. Be brave.'

Lifting the candlelight up to the pane I saw what was neither a stick nor a branch; it was a picture, carved into the glass. I desperately tried to hold onto the candlestick as not to drop it to the floor at the sight of the grotesque image; it was a small bird with its head lie next to its small body; details were not spared in any part. I knew this wasn't a bird though, this was me; John's revenge on what had been brought upon his mother and Rebecca and his father.

'Quincey's father too' my mind was sharp to remind me as I quickly tried to ignore the truth.

The room spun beneath my feet as I stood next to the window unable to move; questioning the only hope I had at survival, the man I knew I loved but my mind was choosing to question right now. As the single flame went out in the room I could no longer feel my legs beneath my body… that's when I felt arms catch me.