"Library," said Rupert the next morning.

"You don't want to go there," said a sturdy witch. "Willow's still recovering from the ritual last night."

"Why there, of all places?"

"She needed...space. Look, I wouldn't -"

Vague admonishments he did not need. Books, he needed. As soon as he entered the library, he sensed what was wrong before he saw. Dark Willow had asserted herself again - although if her hair was an accurate barometer, she was only about half evil. She was trapped inside some sort of mystical cage, hence the necessary "space."

"Rupert!" she said, with evident relish. "Was your sweet clover field where I said? Did you spend last night...plowing?"

"Evil is no excuse for vulgarity," he told her primly.

She directed a bolt of energy at him. The cage absorbed it, but the force made the bookshelves rattle.

"Took you long enough to get that she's not human. I sensed that right away."

"Clever girl. What is she, then?"

"Well...I could show you an illuminating text...if you let me out of here."

He continued leafing through books, not dignifying her statement with a response.

"Bored. Boring. To bore." Willow sighed. "All right, already."

She started humming the Bewitched theme song. Wiggled her nose. A book flew off a shelf and landed in front of Rupert.

"You shouldn't be able to -"

Willow smiled. "Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage."

"That isn't what Lovelace meant."

"It's an unconventional interpretation, admittedly."

"So is this. Aisling is not a banshee, Willow."

"Ooh. No points for skipping the homework. Demerits. See me after class."

Ignoring her, Rupert began to read. He never could resist the charm of a good book, and he soon found himself absorbed. When he finished, he sat staring at the page for so long it took Willow's voice to snap him out of his thoughts.

"Good story, huh? Romantic. The little maid fell in love with the aristocrat's son, and he repaid her affections by binding her into his service forever. Now instead of polishing the silver, she lets them know when someone's about to die."

Rupert turned the book towards her. "Do you know what this is?"

"Pretty picture?"

"My family crest. It's an earlier version than I'm familiar with, but it's - it's unmistakable."

"Wow. You're like the heroine of some gothic romance," said Willow.

"And father thought I'd never amount to anything."

He spent the rest of the day researching, corroborating and cross-referencing. As sundown neared, Willow grew more restless. At last, one of the coven came to send Rupert away.

"Hey," said Willow. "Check out the cliffs north of town." She ran her tongue over her lips. "Rip a bodice for me, Rupert."

The evening was overcast and windy, cutting him as he rode his horse along the cliffs.

As Willow had said, Aisling was standing at the edge. Her voice carried on the wind.

Must I be born with so little art,
As to love a man who'll break my heart?
When cockle shells turn silver bells,
Then will my love come back to me.

Rupert tied Incitatus and walked toward the cliff, wondering what he'd even say to her. Before the last note disappeared on the breeze, she wavered and fell forward off the cliff. With a shout, he jumped after her. It was an insane, ludicrous thing to do. He didn't even think about it, just reached out as far as he could and...

He caught her ankle. He pulled her back.

She let loose a furious stream of Gaelic exhorting him to let go, leave her be, she knew what she was doing. "I'm saving your life!" she finished breathlessly. "I sang my own lament - instead of yours."

Rupert looked out at the sun setting over the sea. Clouds were gathering and a few lazy drops splashed down on them. "A life for a life?" he said thoughtfully.

"I've known since midnight."

"So that's why you disappeared so suddenly."

The wind picked up and the sky darkened. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled a moment later. The storm was near. They needed to find cover. He led her to Incitatus and they rode towards town. As the storm grew wilder around them, they were forced to stop and take shelter in a stable.

"Let me go," Aisling said as soon as they were safely inside. "If I die, I win your life and my freedom both."

"You aren't a servant anymore...Rose Connelly."

She was surprised, but her snowy cheeks had no color to lose. "It's been some time since anyone has called me that. I suppose you know my woeful tale, then." She tilted her head to the side. "You have his eyes, you know. That's why I was drawn to you. Even now..."

He ran a finger gently over the marking on her neck. "You can lift this curse by dying, yes. But I think you would be braver to choose the alternative."

They were close now, so close. The sweet scent of hay and leather hung heavy in the air.

"You need only wish to be free. Unlock your heart and the enchantment will lift."

"How do you know? Can you be so sure?"

"I saw it happen last night. For a brief moment, you were free. Couldn't you feel it?"

Eyes brimming, she wrapped her arms around him and they kissed greedily, desperately. Her breath seemed torn from her breast like the wind tearing across the valley, her cheeks flushed with passion.

At last, the storm died down and left a steady patter of rain against the roof. Aisling stood looking out the window at the full moon shining steadily despite the clouds.

"Will you come back to town with me?" he asked.

"I think not," she said. "I'd like to live a spell outside my cage before locking myself back in."

With a wink, she disappeared into the bright blue night.

It was just before sunrise when Rupert made his way back to Triskele. Even without entering, he could tell Willow had had a rough night. He made his way to her room, where she was huddled on her bed, eyes bloodshot and face tear-streaked. She turned her face up at him.

He sat down next to her. "You'd feel better after these rituals if you didn't fight them so much, you know."

"I hate you," she said. Her voice rasped when she spoke. "I wish you had killed me. Why didn't you kill me?"

He thought for a moment. Truthfully, he had not wanted to face this question, even to himself. He had risked his own life and the fate of the world to save her, a frankly irresponsible act that had gone over better than it had any right to.

"Selfishness."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sometimes I forget how young you are," he said affectionately. "You think your heart will bleed like this every time. It won't."

"You're just lying to make me feel better."

"No, I'm afraid not. What I'm saying is that every scar makes it harder to find the part that's still living, until one day you can't feel anything at all. That day was not the day for me."

She was silent for a long time. The sun blazed in the east.

"She's gone," Willow said at last. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"There are things in this world that are only beautiful because they are ephemeral. If we were meant to love forever, or live forever, we'd be..."

"...Vampires."