A/N: It takes me better than a year to post chapter 2, and here I am posting Chapter 3 in less than a week. Going through this mess yet again,there are bits that I am bit proud of. There are 5 real narrators in the course of this story, and if I get to Chapter 8, you'll get to meet all of them.

As I have mentioned in an earlier chapter, I have already written this story through. I just have to get off my lazy butt and retype it.

Chapter 3: Camilla Appears

Camilla

New Orleans, May 2000

The two of us approach the old shack that I have chosen for our purpose of hiding out. The grey overcast sky in this miserable month of May are lighted with the cloak of thick clouds instead of the black emptiness of eternal space. My cringing companion and I cross the swamp lands to old entropy infested shack, that could have been someone's pleasant little home many years before. The slight wind rattles the loose shingles and blows the tattered curtains left in only three of the boarded up windows facing us. The slushing and the rattling cause my companion to clutch my arm. I sigh. I must endure.

No phone wires or electrical wires cross the sky, which is one of the reasons I choose this place. Technology among many sundry things upset Lucinda. The lack of technology suits me, too. I see better in the darkness, and Lucinda couldn't see the light even if it was available. I would prefer not to be bothered with the phone. Not to mention, Lucinda doesn't need to be irritated by the noise. She is enough to handle with the natural noises around us.

Her small slight black cloaked figure clings tighter to my arm as the thunder rumbles across the sky. The mist in the air tells of the coming rain. She trusts that I will protect her. I will not betray that trust. She trusts me and nothing else, and I think she is the only creature that exists or will ever exist that trusts me, and I her. The oddness of our relationship itself makes my life all the more strange. I have plenty of quirks among other things that would cause fear in the typical human, but she clings to me as a child would to a mother. She is no longer truly human, nor has she been for almost 200 years. Her extreme fear and trust of me is a good enough reason to live some miles from the university, where I have found employment.

I have taken up teaching the French language and French history from 1650 to the present. I am well qualified for such after all. I lived through that history and I am of the French origin. I grew up in France and lived there for many years. So, of course, the history class that I teach is French history. I had a little time to convince the school of my qualifications, resulting in the forging of my records. The sudden illness of their previous professors of these classes did not even put them up to any suspicion towards me. I must make sure the information never reaches Lucinda. She would not approve even in her present state. I don't know why I allow the course of my life to be moved by her thoughts and her likes.

New Orleans does much for my spirit, and I hope to have a long stay here. The air of my own people lingers here. I feel that someday I may move to the Midwest where Lucinda can be near people of her own for awhile.

A rat pounces through the grass in from of our feet. I know what will come. My companion fears rats more then anything else. I sigh, because I know she is aware of its presence.

"A rat! A rat! Rats everywhere!" She grasps my arm tighter causing pain, but I cannot lash out at her. The fear of her tortured mind, if not shared by me, is well justified. "The town is overrun with rats! Where is he? I do not smell his carrion! I do not smell his blood! His servants are here!"

"Sh!" I tell her, "It is over. That event has gone and passed."

My words hold no meaning to her. They never do when rats are involved. "The black sails block out the sun! The sky is blinded! Red streaks down from the rat mongers claws! He stands proud as his bidding is fulfilled! We are dying! God help us, save us from him! The daughter of the Earth is in the fields picking flowers. He is coming for her! He will destroy her! Jonathan! Help me, Jonathan! No! The demon has him! Oh God, help us! Save us! He has stolen our summer, and Weimar stands in desolation of winter! Oh Lord, help us!"

"Sh! He is not here. This is their home. Everything has a home, even us. We are going to our new home." I take her gloved hands. "We shall have some breathing space before he finds us again. I think that your trouble will be out of the way by the time we meet him again. You will be able to stand on your own and defeat him."

I lead her into the house to confront her with a totally different interior than would be expected. The front room is cluttered with crates, some fully packed and others otherwise. Candles are scattered in different parts of the room giving off their eerie dim glow reflecting on the different glassware that is scattered about. Lucinda is aware of the light and it comforts her. Tonight, as busy as it was, I can tell that the unpacking will continue. I know Lucinda will do something with the unpacking today as I sleep. Things will look better after a little effort.

I admire some of the fine porcelain that I have collected over the years. My companion doesn't notice. She approaches one of the stands where a candle weakly burns. Her cloak appears even more black in the weak candle glow as she kneels down. I hear her words from her pained throat.

"Flickering light of my world, help me."

I go to her. Feeling a chill, I put my arm around her cloaked shoulders and lead her to the bedroom. I wish I had never come to Weimar. I would never have met her, and I would still have my freedom. I could have remained my cold uncaring self. Why me! I didn't want to change, and I still don't want to. I feel for her though, and she does appreciate my presence. I don't feel as awful as I should feel. She goes to bed and lays down whimpering. I swallow hard. The journey has been a hard one, and it is telling on my spirit. I pull the covers over her. She falls into a trouble sleep about her tormented past.

I shut the door to her room and sit at the table until almost daybreak. My mind is full, but I must rest. Tomorrow will be busy. I have to arrange my house, order my books, and arrange my class schedule. I must have a clear mind for that task. I must be ready for when Rafael comes.