NOTE: This chapter contains sexually explicit content.


Chapter 11

Olympian Club

A sleek, black and practically brand-new Lincoln Continental pulls up in front of the Club and an equally sleek-looking woman steps out of the driver's seat, leaning on the roof. She gives Quinlan a nod, and he back at her as he opens the back door for Setrakian. Then the driver gets back in and hands Quinlan two black hoods. He hands one to Setrakian, who just gives him an "are you kidding" look.

"Apologies, Professor…rules of the house," Quinlan says. "Their location must remain secret, even to us."

Setrakian sighs and slips on the hood, and Quinlan does the same. Then it's an utterly silent but quick ride to their destination – not that they know where that is. All either of them can tell is that things get suddenly darker as the car moves underground. Then a moment later, the car stops and the driver opens the door for them. Quinlan pulls off the hood and steps out, offering a polite arm to Setrakian, who uses it to steady himself as he gets out.

One of the Sun Hunters stands before them, bowing courteously. "I am Lar. I will speak for them," he says.

Quinlan and Setrakian nod back and then follow him into a long tunnel, where the dark seems to get even darker. Then the tunnel opens up into a large concrete chamber with only a few lights to provide the barest illumination – a stark, empty space except for the three Ancients – huge, monstrous-looking Strigoi of the Old World, resting death-like on slightly reclined pedestals. Quinlan follows Lar into the lit space at the center of the three, while Setrakian remains on the shadowy edge of the circle.

"So…you are aware of what happened?" Quinlan asks. The Ancients twitch a bit, and Lar nods.

"We are," he replies.

"Is The Master truly dead?"

"He is not."

Quinlan and Setrakian exchange looks – disappointed but not surprised. "I cut off his head," Quinlan replies. "But I saw something else…a red worm. It crawled out and disappeared. Is that why he is not dead?"

"It is."

"What is that worm?"

"The red worm is the essence. If it is not destroyed, then neither is he. You have only crippled him for the moment."

Quinlan laughs bitterly at that as he paces around the inner circle, looking at them all with new contempt. "I cannot do the job you brought me here to do if I do not have all the information I need. Did you not think this was something I should know about?" he asks.

For a moment, there's no reply – then Lar simply says, "Well…now you know."

Their mocking reply pushes Quinlan over the edge, and with a low growl he whips the sword off his back. Lar draws down on him as Quinlan points the end of the blade dangerously close to one of the Ancients' necks. The creature snarls back at him, but its eyes hold Quinlan's in a steady gaze, ready to throw down.

"Be careful, Quintus. Your standing with us is not what it once was…not even close. We have no qualms about taking you out as well," Lar says, holding his gun to Quinlan's head as Quinlan keeps the blade drawn on the Ancient. Still standing on the periphery, Setrakian watches nervously, wondering if he should jump into the fray – but he suddenly realizes just how old the conflict is that's playing out in front of him. He realizes that even though he's spent nearly a hundred years fighting this battle, Quinlan and the Ancients' quarrel goes back thousands. He realizes that he's actually in privileged position, a human able to listen in on the conversations of beings far more powerful than he. Quinlan doesn't need his help, not even remotely – so Setrakian decides to stay quiet and hang back.

"I will not be made a fool of, especially by the likes of you three. Now, is there anything else you're not telling me?" Quinlan seethes – and after another tense moment, Lar puts his gun away, prompted by the Ancients.

"Destroy the red worm, and the traitor who calls himself The Master will be destroyed forever," they reply through him. Quinlan stares at the Ancient for another second and then withdraws, putting his sword away.

"Very well…I hope you will at least be so good as to tell us when The Master has taken a new host," he says, and Lar nods.

"He is in a transitory state. That is all we sense at the moment. If our Sun Hunters learn of a new host, we will advise you of it," Lar says – and then he turns his black-eyed gaze to Setrakian.

"Pawnbroker…where is the Lumen?"

Setrakian approaches at that, entering the circle and standing next to Quinlan. "The Lumen is safe. You needn't worry about that," he replies.

"We want the book. That was our deal."

"Yes…it seems that everybody wants the book. The Master came out of hiding in order to get it…which makes me wonder what is so important about it that it would be worth exposing himself for?" Setrakian asks, and the Ancients all squirm uncomfortably on their pedestals.

"I can see by your reaction that there is something very important contained in that book," he continues. "Does it have something to do with what the Egyptians discovered? Something about 'the house of red and white?'"

As soon as Setrakian says it, a low growling emanates from the Ancients, surrounding them. Lar steps closer to Setrakian. "If I were you, I would leave now. They are becoming most…impatient."

"Was it something I said?" Setrakian replies, with an amused grin – and the Ancients' growling levels up to snarling. Quinlan grabs Setrakian by the elbow and pulls him away.

"Come along, Professor. I think we've gotten everything we're going to get out of these malingerers," he says. Lar just cocks his head at him, watching as they walk out of the chamber, out of earshot – then he turns back to the Ancients.

"Do you think they will discover the meaning?" Lar asks them, and inside his head they reply.

"Let us hope not."


En route to Brooklyn Hospital

Petey checks her phone to see what time it is as she rides in an ambulance on the way to Brooklyn Hospital. Councilwoman Feraldo had managed to strong-arm the mayor into getting the hospital re-opened for her people. Unfortunately, there were only a few doctors and nurses available and willing to help who hadn't already been snatched up by Stoneheart's Freedom Centers.

Petey cranes her neck to look out the window, seeing the muted colors of sunset through the grayish sky. Then the woman on the gurney squirms in pain – a woman who just three months ago was a housekeeper at The Plaza Hotel. Then Feraldo's people swept her apartment building, took her and a dozen other residents to a makeshift barracks, where they were told by NYPD that they'd been conscripted. Then they shoved a fire axe in her hand and sent her into a tunnel with a few other people to clear it of Strigoi. Needless to say, the housekeeper was lucky to get out with just a couple of fractured ribs.

"You're doing great. Just hang in there and try to breathe as normal as you can," Petey says.

"Easy for you to say…it fucking…hurts!" the woman grunts.

"I know, hon…I know…every time you feel the pain, just squeeze my hand, hard as you can. And breathe as deep as you can. I know I'm a total bitch for saying that but trust me, you don't want to be dealing with pneumonia on top of all this, okay?" Petey repeats, rubbing her hand to soothe her. The ambulance slows and stops then, and Petey opens the doors, jumping out. The woman shrieks again as Petey pulls the gurney out and it jostles her around.

"OW! You fuckin' bitch!"

"Sorry…sorry…" Petey apologizes as she rolls the gurney into the ER entrance and hands her patient off to the waiting nurse. "Fractured ribs, left side."

"Okay, we got her. Can you help out with the minor injuries over there?" the nurse asks, pointing over to the area of exam tables with other patients from the same tunnel sweep.

"Yeah, sure," Petey replies. She goes over to the nearest sink, washes her hands and puts on fresh gloves. Then she enters the room, going over to the first person she sees – a stocky Latino man in his fifties at least, wearing a very eighties Members Only jacket. Next to him sits a much younger Latino guy, cute even though he looks like a gangbanger. Both of them give Petey a suspicious look up and down as she approaches.

"Hey," Petey says. "You guys hurt?"

"Nah, not me. Might wanna check Abuelo over here, though," the younger one says, and the older one just sticks up a fat middle finger at him. Petey grins at them, noticing the older man's bloody, cut-up knuckles and hand.

"Well, you should let me clean up that hand at least," she says, reaching for the nearest batch of supplies. "So how many Strigoi did you take out down there?" she then asks – and at her use of the Old World term, the guys exchange looks.

"She said 'Strigoi,'" the older one says to the younger one in Spanish, and the younger one nods.

"How you know that name?" the younger one asks her.

"What, 'Strigoi?' Oh, uh…my brother, he's working with Feraldo and some…other people. That's what they call them," Petey says, not wanting to give too much information away.

"Who's your brother?" the younger one asks, and Petey narrows her eyes at him as she finishes cleaning the older one's hand.

"Who are you?" she asks back – and he grins, extending a hand.

"Sorry, my manners. I'm Gus…and the old fucker's Angel," he says.

"Who you callin' 'old,' pendejo?" Angel spits back.

Petey shakes Gus' hand. "I'm Petey…and my brother's Vasiliy Fet."

"No shit! The rat man? Didn't know he had a sister. Where you been all this time?" Gus asks, and Petey has to chuckle at the number of times she's heard 'I didn't know he had a sister' since she got to New York.

"I came up from Philly a few days ago. So…you guys got roped into this civilian squad thing?"

"Yeah…got caught in the raid. Don't suppose there's any way Fet could get us outta this shit detail, is there? I mean, I ain't got no problem fightin', I'd just rather be takin' the fight to The Master instead of wasting time with these low-level Munchers," Gus says.

"So you know about The Master?"

"Uh…yeah…more than I want to, trust me," Gus says, looking down guiltily – knowing that he played a pretty big part in getting the vampire apocalypse rolling by unknowingly bringing The Master into Manhattan.

"Well, I dunno…you can ask him when he gets here, he's coming to pick me up," Petey replies.

"Sweet. Hey, how's the Professor doin'?"

"He's, uh…he's good. I guess. Hard to tell with him."

"Yeah, ain't exactly the warm-and-fuzzy type, is he?"

"No…more of the ass-kicking, Strigoi-slaying type, which amazes me given his age," Petey says, and then makes an apologetic face at Angel. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sound ageist or anything."

"Don't matter how old you are, chica. When your life's on the line – or somebody you care about – you'll find you're capable of all kinds of things," Angel replies – and though he directs the comment to Gus, Angel notices the change in Petey's expression, just for a second. But then she covers with a smile and a nod, as she finishes wrapping his hand with gauze.

"There. All done. You guys sit tight, I'll come get you when Fet gets here," she says – and then she walks away, hoping to god they don't see how unsettled she feels all of a sudden. She goes through the motions of tending to the remaining wounded, but on a sort-of auto-pilot where her hands continue to work on the task at hand even though her brain's preoccupied with reliving her nightmarish journey to New York. She sees every Strigoi she killed, including some who were only kids. And she feels the humiliation all over again of having to debase herself just to gain entrance to the city.

It makes her feel like she's covered in shit. So after she finishes with the last patient, Petey heads for the nurses' locker room.

"Are the showers working?" she asks, as she passes by the gossiping trio of nurses at the desk.

"Yeah, but the hot water'll only last for like, five minutes," one of them answers.

"Good enough," Petey replies, leaving them behind. She quickens her pace, making a beeline into the locker room. She looks around, but the place is empty – and for a second, she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But then her sudden, desperate need to be clean resurfaces and it's decided. She kicks off her shoes and peels off her scrubs, steps into the shower stall and turns on the water, gasping when it comes out cold. She pumps out a handful of soap and scrubs like crazy, like she'd been working a 48-straight in the ER instead of just doing some basic first aid. She massages the soap into her hair, sighing as the water warms up and her muscles relax. She lets the water run down through her hair, and as the steam builds up around her Petey breathes it in – getting drowsy, slipping further away in her mind.


And then she's back in the dark, groaning when she feels the cold stone and smells the stale, rotten air of the Colosseum's underbelly. She rubs her eyes and looks around, adjusting to the light – and then she hears the echo of clanking chains nearby. She knows better than to speak this time. She knows she can't be seen or heard in this memory that isn't hers. She's just there to witness – to learn what nobody else knows. And then she sees the torches stuck in the walls up ahead, providing some illumination on the subject…Quinlan.

Petey sighs when she sees how this memory's starting – with guards dragging him to a pillar and chaining him to it so that he hangs by the manacles on his wrists, with his arms up over his head. His back is to her, so she walks around to see his face – but his head hangs down as if asleep or unconscious. She looks him over – he's been stripped bare, his wrists oozing white, the skin raw from rubbing against the iron manacles. He looks weak, lifeless – and Petey feels a terrible stab of sympathy, wanting to lift his head and comfort him.

She wishes that she had been there to do something – but she wasn't. Nobody was there for him then – or maybe ever.

She swallows hard as more guards enter the room – making way for a smaller man in a clean, white toga with purple adornments, obviously somebody important. He holds a sprig of rosemary under his nose to combat the dungeon's horrible stink.

"Wake him," the important man says. A guard steps forward with a bucket, dumping cold water over Quinlan's head – and Petey gasps as she gets hit with some of the water, shocked that she can feel it. Quinlan's eyes snap open and he tosses his head around wildly, disoriented. The important man steps forward then and grabs Quinlan roughly by the face, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"After all I have done, this is how you repay me? Do you have any idea what would have happened to me if the Vestal had died? Or worse, if she had turned into one of you?" the important man shouts, right in his face. Quinlan holds his gaze but says nothing – which annoys the important man. He shoves Quinlan's face away and walks around the pillar, right by Petey, who looks between the two of them, wondering what the hell he's talking about – what happened to bring them here.

"Consider yourself fortunate, Quintus. The Vestal herself came to me and made a plea on your behalf. She does not wish you to be punished too severely. She reminded me that executing you would mean the loss of a valuable investment. So it seems you will be spared a very painful, very public death thanks to her. But I…" the important man emphasizes his words by giving Quinlan a fairly impressive punch to the ribs, made more painful with all the heavy rings the important man wears. Petey hears Quinlan draw his breath in as he takes the hit, and she does the same.

"…I am your sponsor!" the man says, grabbing Quinlan's face again to lock eyes. "I am a senator of Rome! And without me, you are nothing. You will understand this, and you will obey…or you will die. And not in some quick, quiet, peaceful way…oh, no. If you ever disgrace me again, I promise you, you will beg for death. But I will not grant it. I will make sure your suffering lasts for years."

The Senator steps back then, his face red with fury and his chest heaving with rage. "I would say keep lashing until he has no more flesh to tear," he says to the lead guard. "But I cannot have my champion ruined. He must be ready to return to the arena two days hence. So we shall keep it to fifty lashes…but use the barbs."

"Yes, Senator," the guard says. Then the Senator turns on his sandaled heels and breezes out with his personal entourage of guards, leaving three behind to do the dirty work. The lead guard nods to one of the underlings, who takes one of the coils of different leather whips off a hook on the wall – and Petey sees the tail of the whip, split into several thinner ends with pieces of sharp metal sewn into them.

She covers her mouth, backing up as the underling guard readies the whip.

"Wake up, Petey…wake up…" she says softly to herself at first. Then she hears the first whoosh-crack! and hears Quinlan grunting with the impact.

Whoosh-crack! Whoosh-crack! Whoosh-crack! Whoosh-crack…!

"Goddammit, wake up! Wake up!" Petey shouts at the top of her lungs. The sight of Quinlan's back shredding and oozing white blood horrifies her and she cries hysterically, continuing to scream at herself to wake – but she's drowned out by the terrible sound of the whip and Quinlan's agonizing wails – sounds she never imagined such an invincible creature could make.


Petey gasps as the warm water cuts off suddenly and shocks her with the cold, causing her to slip and fall on her butt. She crawls out of the stall, naked, soaked and shivering on the floor, fighting to get her breath back – but she can't stop the flood of empathetic emotion, pain and horror. She slaps her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs, but she can't stop them. She has to weep for Quinlan – because nobody else ever would.

And as Petey lies there on the floor, she becomes aware of someone else in the room with her. Strong hands pick her up off the floor and throw a towel around her. And slowly, the voice works its way through the wall of overwhelming emotion.

"Pete! Hey! Wake up!" Fet shouts at her, shaking her, trying to get her to look at him and focus.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" she repeats, clawing at Fet as if he were a tree she could climb to get away from the vision. All Fet can do is hold her and worry, feeling her trembling all over and not just from being cold and wet. Something's scaring the shit out of her, something only she can see…and that can't be good.

"I gotcha…come on, let's getcha dressed, get back to the Club. You need rest, kiddo."


Richards Street – Red Hook, Brooklyn

Eph and Zach sit bundled up on the roof of Fet's place, getting away from the fumes of the toxin they'd been making all day. They have the skylight propped open, trying to air the place out as much as possible.

"Make sure you drink all that water. Can't have you getting dehydrated," Eph says. Zach dutifully gulps down another mouthful from the plastic jug they're sharing, then he hands it right back to him.

"Actually, you need the water more than I do," he replies – and Eph feels the sharp sting of the remark, worse than if he'd stirred a hornet's nest. And he realizes that Zach must have seen some empties laying around that he forgot to stash. Nothing like being shamed by your own kid. Eph looks at his son, guilt all over his face, and Zach just sighs – in a total role reversal where he's the weary dad and Eph is the wayward child.

"I'm sorry, Zach," is all Eph can manage to say – and it's not just for the drinking. It's for everything.

"I know," Zach says. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"Back on the pier, when I said I hated you and Mom."

Eph grins, feeling a swell of pride at his boy being so mature, despite the example he and Kelly had set for him of late. Eph reaches over and grabs him around the shoulders, hugging him. "You have nothing to be sorry about, believe me," he replies.

"Yeah, I do. It's my fault Nora died," Zach says, and Eph pulls back to look him in the eyes.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is. I didn't stop Mom from biting her, and I left her there," Zach says, his voice catching as he holds back his tears.

"Hey…listen to me. Nora wouldn't blame you for any of it, so don't you go blaming yourself. There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've run like she told me to. But I just…I couldn't."

"If there's anyone to blame it's The Master," Eph replies. "This is what he does…turns people against their own loved ones. That's how he's getting everything to fall apart so fast."

"I met him, you know…The Master. He actually helped me. I was having an attack and he stopped it," Zach says, and Eph's face goes pale.

"Wait—wait – what? What happened?"

"I started having an attack, 'cause I got scared and…then I saw Mom, and The Master was with her. She told me he would help me, and he did. He gave me a few drops of his blood."

"Sssshhhit…" Eph breathes, grabbing Zach. "Why didn't you tell me before? We gotta check you—"

"I'm fine!" Zach says, pulling out of his grip. "I'm better than fine. I'm breathing better now than I ever did before. And I don't have the worms."

"I don't understand…how could he give you his blood without transferring the virus?"

Zach shrugs. "I dunno, but Mom said the asthma's gone forever now. He cured me. And he told me it's what he wants to do for everybody. He wants to stop all the wars and starvation and all the bad stuff people do. He said once his plan is done the world will be better."

Eph just stares at Zach – then he laughs in disbelief. "Do you believe that?"

"I'd like to. He really wasn't the scary monster I thought he'd be," Zach replies, unsure.

"Is that all he said?"

"No. He said he wants you to join him. All of us…Fet and the Professor too. He wants us to work with him."

Eph nods slowly then, getting the message loud and clear. "Yeah, well…I met The Master once too. In full scary monster mode. And the one thing I learned for sure is that he doesn't have partners or colleagues or friends. The only way to 'join' The Master is either as a food source or a slave."

Zach swallows hard at that. "But then why would he tell me all that stuff?"

"I think he's just laying out bait that he thinks we'll be stupid enough or desperate enough to take."

"So he doesn't really wanna stop war and all that?"

"Well, technically, if the half the world's population is wiped out and the other half is enslaved…then yeah, wars would stop. But it's just a trick, Z…just like everything he says. And like everything your mother says now."

"We gotta stop him then, Dad. It's the only way to get Mom back," Zach says, and Eph just closes his eyes, shaking his head – then he turns Zach's chin, looking him direct in the eyes.

"There is no getting Mom back now. Whatever you saw, whatever she may have told you…it wasn't her. Mom died when she turned…and what she is now is just a puppet for The Master to use. Even if we managed to get her away from him and we could somehow stop him from controlling her…then all she would do is revert to full Strigoi. The only way to truly help her…is to kill her."

Zach backs away from Eph at that. "So you hate her now, is that it?"

"No, of course not! Believe it or not, I still love your mom. But what she is now…is not her. Your mother is dead. And I know how terrible that is to say, but it's the truth, and it's a truth you need to accept, Zach, or else The Master will just keep using it against you. He'll keep luring you in with lies until eventually you'll submit, or you'll die. And I can't let you die. I need you. I can't keep going without you," Eph says, his voice trembling – and Zach sees the tears in his eyes.

"Don't you miss her?" Zach asks, in a whisper.

"All the time. I just wish I'd been a better person…she deserved better. So do you."

Father and son look into each other for a moment – then Zach hugs Eph tight, burying his face in his dad's chest, sobbing hard. Eph lets himself break down too, and they stay like that for a while – finally taking the time to grieve the loss of their family, as the first snowfall of winter begins around them.


Olympian Club

After returning from the Ancients' lair and another day of studying the Lumen with little progress, Quinlan decided to go on the hunt to clear his head. By the time he returns, the Club is dim and quiet – only a few lights left on here and there suggest that anyone's still up and about. Then he hears noise coming from the kitchen and he moves toward it – wary, picking up an unfamiliar scent. He quietly draws his sword and uses it to push open the door. He makes a surprised face when he sees two Mexican guys sitting at the table, helping themselves to the pantry contents.

Mouth full of a SPAM sandwich, Gus makes an equally surprised face at seeing Quinlan standing there. "Holy shit," he mumbles – and across the table, Angel spits out his soup and leaps out of his chair. Then he slips his bandaged hand into his weapon of choice – a silver set of knuckles shaped like a cross, a souvenir from his acting days in Mexican monster movies decades ago.

"Chinga!" he breathes, eyes wide and hauled back with the knuckles, ready to throw down. Quinlan just gives him a curious look as he steps into the room and Gus gets up to greet him – and Angel's mouth drops open in shock when he sees Gus extending a friendly hand to him.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again," Gus says, and Quinlan nods at him, shaking his hand.

"Mister Elizalde…I'm glad to see you're alive and well."

Gus grins at him and chucks Quinlan on the shoulder like an old buddy, which practically makes Angel's head explode. "Gus…what the fuck is goin' on?"

"Relax, man, it's just Quinlan," Gus says, and Angel just gives him an "are you kidding me" look back.

"Ohhh, okay. It's just Quinlan. What the fuck is a Quinlan? 'Cause he looks like a fuckin' Strigoi! Is this one of those weirdos in the hoods you were hangin' out with before or what?"

"If by 'weirdos in the hoods' you're referring to the Sun Hunters, then no. I'm not one of them. Not anymore, anyway. So you can put your…weapon…away. If you are a friend of Gus' then you have nothing to fear from me," Quinlan replies, but Angel just stares between him and Gus, unconvinced.

"Angel…seriously, man, it's cool," Gus says. "Quinlan's the OG, right playa?"

"I have no idea what that means," Quinlan replies, which just makes Gus crack up.

"So what're you doin' here, man?" he asks. "Thought you were all about the lone wolf thing."

"The Professor and I are working on translating the Lumen. How did you find your way here?" Quinlan replies – keeping an eye on Angel, who gradually relaxes and puts his knuckles away.

"Well, Angel and I were tryin' to get the hell outta the city, but we got hauled in by Feraldo's goon squad. Ended up at Brooklyn Hospital after this bonehead raid they made us do, but we got lucky and met Fet's little sister. They brought us back here, and boom. Back in the fight. Heard y'all got rid of Bolivar."

"Yes…unfortunately that did not eliminate The Master."

"Yeah, well. We'll get there. We fucked 'em up once, we can do it again," Gus says, and Quinlan has to grin at his youthful bravado.

"Where is the Professor?"

"Still in the study, I think…obsessing over that book."

"Then I should join him. Good to see you, Gus," Quinlan says, and then ducks out – and Angel just throws his hands up in bewilderment.

"What the fuck was that? How in the hell can you be a human being and talk to that thing like it's a buddy?" he asks.

"I know. It's weird. It's fucked up. It is. But believe it or not, not all of 'em are bad. Quinlan…and Vaun, when he was still here…they want to stop all this as much as we do."

"Ah, bullshit," Angel says. "I don't buy that. If they want The Master dead, it's only so they can put themselves in the power position. They don't give a shit about us, hermano…we're just cattle to them, I'm telling you."

Gus sighs in frustration, knowing he can't convince his good friend of something so understandably outrageous. "Look, all I can tell you is you don't know these guys like I do. You didn't know Vaun, and you don't know Quinlan. And you don't have to trust them. But I'm asking you to trust me. We're safe here. This is the best possible place we could be."

"Fuck that. Best possible place we could be is fucking Fiji," Angel quips, and Gus has to chuckle at that.

"Oh, well, now look what you did. All that fuckin' blabbing, your soup's gone cold. Gimme that," he replies. Angel sighs out all his new stress and frustration and sits back down, waiting patiently as Gus grabs the bowl and dumps the soup back in the pot to reheat it.


Quinlan heads for the study but stops before he can get there – torn between doing what he knows he should be doing and what he would rather be doing. It only takes a few seconds for him to decide to look for Petey instead – and on a hunch, he tries the roof. He takes a stroll around and smells the air – but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to return to the main floor when he gets a sudden feeling, something he's never experienced before – as if something invisible and more powerful than him just rushed up on him and punched him in the gut. He doubles over and puts a hand out on the nearest wall to steady himself as his vision blurs, darkens and then changes. The city disappears around him, replaced by a memory plucked from the depths of his subconscious – except he's not the one doing the remembering.

Not exactly.


When Petey awakens this time, the weight of the Colosseum's stink isn't as heavy. In fact, much of it is masked by the smell of fire and smoke. She sits up in the shadows and sees a figure lying on a stone bench just beyond the fire – and the twinge in her chest lets her know it's Quinlan.

Of course…who else would it be?

His bandaged back to her, she hears him groaning a bit and squirming with discomfort – and she sighs, remembering exactly why. Petey stands up and moves closer, around the fire to see him more clearly – and the new wounds adorning his arms and legs. Somehow, she just knows they're from the arena.

Then they both hear rattling keys approaching, and the same centurion who brought the Vestal Virgin to Quinlan before appears at the door of his cell. Then he opens it and steps in, giving Quinlan a prodding whack with his staff.

"On your feet, Barbarian," he growls, and Quinlan stands up with difficulty. The centurion tosses a hooded cloak at him, with not a whit of sympathy in his expression. Petey follows them as they leave the Ludus Magnus and walk toward The Forum, where they enter a passageway with several switchbacks that gradually slope upward. When they emerge from the tunnel, they're at the top of Palantine Hill, where most of the nobles built their homes. The centurion then leads Quinlan to a building with no distinctive markings and stops at the steps.

"Go inside," the centurion orders, and then turns to stand watch.

Petey follows Quinlan into the building, who lowers the hood on the cloak to look around. And Petey looks too, admiring the beauty of it – a noble's home, to be sure, but not overly lavish. Torches on the walls bounce light all over, giving everything a cozy glow – one that would usually make a person feel at home. But as Petey looks at Quinlan, she can tell he feels anything but.

And that's when a woman's voice calls, "Quintus."

They both look up to see a female figure in white at the top of the staircase. The moonlight shining in through the window behind her lights her up so she looks like a goddess. And Petey makes the connection, remembering hearing something about a Vestal…a Vestal Virgin.

Quinlan bows to her and the Vestal smiles, reaching out her hand. "Come," she says – but he hesitates.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I do not wish any further trouble with my Patron," he replies. Antonia descends the stairs – more like floats, Petey notices, with her white silk gown waving all around her.

"I appealed to the Senator personally. He promised me your punishment would be minor," she says.

"Indeed it was…a flogging is not nearly as severe as crucifixion. But it is still something I would rather avoid going through again. He also warned me that if anything else were to happen, I would not escape execution a second time."

Petey walks around them as Antonia takes in the words – and then smiles again, a condescending smirk implying her superiority. Then she reaches up and unties the lace on his cloak, letting it drop off his shoulders. And in the torchlight, Quinlan sees the mark he'd left on her throat, still red and a bit raw.

"Did you not enjoy our time together?" Antonia asks, moving in even closer – and despite himself, Quinlan starts getting a bit tipsy on her scent all over again.

"Yes," he answers, unable to hide it.

"Then fear not, my pet…we shall not be discovered this time, I assure you."

Antonia takes his hand and leads him up the stairs and Petey follows them, picking up the scent of flowers and herbs as they get to the second floor and Antonia brings Quinlan into a chamber with a large stone tub in the middle of the room. A handmaid sits by the tub, pouring more hot water in from a pitcher, creating clouds of steam. She stands up and bows her head as they enter.

"My lady…all is prepared," she says.

Antonia leaves Quinlan to circle the tub, dipping a hand in to test the water's temperature. She takes a handful of lavender petals from a bowl on the side of the tub and sprinkles them over the water. Then she looks to Quinlan, gesturing for him to approach.

"What is this?" he asks.

"I heard what Sertorius did to you, of course…and I feel terribly guilty. I wanted to do something for you. This bath will heal your wounds," she replies, innocently enough – but Quinlan just stares back at her, wary. And from her vantage point off to the side, so does Petey.

"I thank you, my lady…but my wounds will heal on their own," Quinlan says.

"Quintus, please," Antonia says. "There is nothing to be afraid of here. We only wish to please you."

"We?" he repeats, and his eyes dart over to the handmaid, catching her staring back at him – then she casts her eyes downward.

"Come…I promise you, you will find the experience to be most relaxing…and pleasurable," Antonia says.

Petey watches Quinlan thinking it over, considering his options – and she can even hear, in a way, what he's thinking. He knows he could refuse her and leave, and there would be no way for her to stop him, even if she set the centurion on him. But Vestals held higher status than nobles, and there would be no escaping the consequences unless he fled Rome altogether – which was something he was not prepared to do. Or he could acquiesce and participate in whatever sordid activity she had in mind – and risk Senator Sertorius' wrath instead.

Either way, he was fucked. It was just a question of how he would get it and how badly. And as the seconds pass, Petey can feel Quinlan growing more annoyed as Antonia flits around him, baiting him – like food dangled in front of a starving dog by a cruel mistress who just wants to watch the dog squirm and suffer, deriving sick pleasure from the control.

Quinlan understands that Antonia's challenging him – attacking, even, in her own way. She found his weak spot that first time, poked it and got a reaction – and now she would never stop provoking him. Each challenge would become baser and baser. And as angry as that makes him – it also arouses him in a way he had never experienced before. Which only makes him angrier. And then more aroused. It's a vicious circle of dreaded and thrilling emotions. So he steps forward finally, walking slowly toward Antonia and her handmaid. He steps into the tub – but then stops when he hears both women snickering.

"Dear Quintus," Antonia says, "You must remove your tunic first. The healing water cannot do any good otherwise."

Quinlan looks between the two women and then strips off the tunic, eliciting gasps from both of them – and from Petey. Not only at his sublime physique but also – and especially – at his organ-less groin.

Then Antonia stands up and walks around behind him. "I had no idea," she breathes, as she traces her fingers over the length of Quinlan's arm up to his shoulder and puts her mouth by his ear. "There, now…sit down and let us take care of you," she says as she signals to her handmaid, who picks up another bowl holding some cut leaves from the spiky aloe plant.

With a deep breath, Quinlan lowers himself into the water, wincing a bit at the unfamiliar feel of water and the sting it causes as it makes contact with the still-raw flogging wounds on his back. Antonia lifts up her gown as she sits down on the edge of the tub behind him and sticks her legs in the water with Quinlan between them. She takes an aloe leaf and squeezes the fluid inside into her hand. Then she rubs her hands together and places them gently on the wounds to coat them with the plant's essence.

Petey stays in the shadows, even though she knows she can't be seen. She watches the scenario unfolding before her and has a feeling where it's going. And she isn't sure if she wants to see anymore – but the baser, voyeuristic side of her keeps her rooted to the spot. The steam swirling around her, the smell of the herbs and flowers, works like hypnotism on her, dulling reason and leaving her open to just – feeling.

"This plant has remarkable healing properties," Antonia whispers in Quinlan's ear, and he closes his eyes as her breath tickles his earlobe.

"Take your ease, Quintus…breathe," Antonia says as she rubs his shoulders and smooths more aloe into his back. Quinlan closes his eyes and breathes in deep, letting the heat and the sweet smells fill his head – and as Antonia keeps whispering to him, Quinlan starts to feel woozy, like he's going into a trance.

"Do you feel better now?" Antonia asks.

"Yes," he replies – and she smiles, gesturing to her handmaid to approach. The young woman slips out of her frock and steps into the tub, reaching for Antonia's outstretched hand. Quinlan opens his eyes just in time to see Antonia pull the handmaiden into a deep kiss. He watches them, mesmerized, and then Antonia lets go of the handmaid to turn Quinlan's face to hers. She kisses his closed mouth, running her soft, warm tongue over his lips. The feel of it makes him sigh, falling deeper under her influence.

"My handmaid will feed you, but you must do something for me," she said. Quinlan looks between the two women – and sees that Antonia using the same devious smile on her handmaid that she used on him.

"Use that incredible tongue of yours…and make her a woman."

Quinlan turns, giving her a harsh look. "Why would you suggest such a thing? You are truly a frightening creature," he said – and she just laughs.

"Not so, Quintus. It is what she wants as well. Is it not?" she asks the handmaid, who smiles back at her as she approaches. She straddles Quinlan's lap and takes his hand, moving it under the water – and Quinlan sucks his breath in as she places his hand between her legs, feeling how different wet skin felt. His throat rattles with lust – not just for her blood, but for her and the high that would come with it.

"Why do you want this?" he asks the handmaid, breathy. "Do you even know what it is you are asking?"

The handmaid smiles gently at him and places a kiss on his mouth, soft and sweet. "You are Invictus…you are immortal. You are a god. Who better to give my innocence to?" she replies. Antonia kisses Quinlan's neck then, her arms snaking around him.

"You see? I speak the truth. Let yourself go, Quintus…let go and take her," she says.

The handmaid kisses Quinlan again, harder this time – and he responds, learning how to kiss her back as he was being shown so well. He nuzzles the handmaid's earlobe and neck as Antonia then kisses her, all open-mouthed and wet. The handmaid then pushes back from them, dropping off Quinlan's lap to immerse herself in the water – disappearing under the surface and then standing up.

Quinlan takes in the sight of her – her hair slicked back, her skin glistening from the torchlight and the water running down the length of her. He stands up and walks toward her, and she backs up to sit on the edge of the tub. He gently pushes her down and she parts her legs for him, so he could lay himself down on top of her. She writhes underneath him and sighs out her pleasure as he runs his hands up and down the wet length of her. She cups his face in her hands and kisses him deeply – with passion instead of selfishness, the way Antonia's kisses felt.

Not to be left out, Antonia walks around to get behind the handmaid, bending over her to kiss her on the lips and massage her breasts. Antonia looks up at Quinlan then, and suddenly he remembers something he'd said to Senator Sertorius – that he was a student of human nature. And oh, how much he was learning now. Not just about carnal pleasures, but about the complexity – and simplicity – of intimacy. He was learning that what aroused him – and what scared him most – is all right there. He was also learning that women could be every bit as dangerous as men. In her own way, Antonia was every bit as terrifying as The Master.

As Quinlan let the women love him, he imagines – or hopes – that they aren't all as devious and manipulative as Antonia. In fact, he knew it to be true – the woman who adopted him, Ancharia, was the very picture of compassion and selflessness. But she never triggered in him the extremes of emotion that he's feeling now. Antonia moves in to kiss him then, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it before letting it go. And then he grabs her by the back of the head, forcing her to look him in the eyes, bright with arousal and anger.

"What do you want from me, Vestal? You think you can control me as Sertorius believes he does?" he asks in a harsh whisper.

"Of course," she replies, keeping her mouth on his. "But I am willing to give you pleasure in return."

"If I do what you ask, will you let me be?"

"If you wish…but I know that is not what you want. You want to know how to love. You want to be loved. I can show you. Just do what I ask…all that I ask…and I will give you that which you truly desire," Antonia replies, wetting his lips with her tongue. Then she gasps with surprise as Quinlan lets his stinger out and it touches her face. But instead of recoiling, Antonia welcomes it, letting Quinlan caress her with it – then he withdraws it.

"Is that what you want?" he asks.

"I do not fear it. Use it as you will," she replies.

And still frozen in her spot, Petey gasps too, shocked, scared and excited all at the same time, watching Quinlan use the stinger like a third hand, letting it move down Antonia's neck to her breasts, making her sigh.

"You cannot take me…but you can take her," she whispers. And Quinlan looks down at the waiting handmaid then, who reaches for him as Petey forces herself to walk forward. She gets closer, watching Antonia hike up her gown and start pleasuring herself as Quinlan lets the stinger roam over the handmaid's body.

The handmaid moans and undulates like water underneath it, dancing with it – sending a hot, lustful rush through Quinlan. He retracts the stinger to attack her with open-mouthed kisses, sucking on her lips, her neck, her breasts. He kisses her belly, licking her with his human tongue, tasting softness and salt as her delicate hands caress his head, his neck, his shoulders. Then she lets her knees drop out to the side, opening herself up for him – and Quinlan sighs as he rubs his cheek against the skin on the inside of her thighs, skin softer than anywhere else on her body. Quinlan looks up at Antonia then, watching her pleasure herself – and she stares right back at him, silently challenging him with her superior smile.

Petey emerges from the shadows as Quinlan turns his full attention back to the handmaid, diving into her sex with his human tongue first, wanting to taste her before letting his bloodlust take over. The handmaid moans loudly, grinding her pelvis against him, setting the rhythm and lulling them into a savage dance of abandon. Quinlan takes in all the different tastes of her – pungent, bitter, salty and sweet all at the same time. Her body reacts to his every move – grinding harder against him, her breathing picking up and her blood flowing faster, all moving toward him.

The handmaid cries out louder then, holding his head in the spot giving her the most pleasure – and she hits her climax at almost the same time as Antonia, both women crying out their pleasure, their bodies spasming uncontrollably. And Petey finds herself reacting too, breathing heavier and shifting around, feeling the tingle between her own legs, while Antonia drops her head back with a half-crazed laugh. Then she moves over to the handmaid to kiss her.

But Quinlan stays absorbed in what he's learning and experiencing. As the handmaid's body relaxes, the inside of her sex covers in a slick, tasteless fluid – making it slippery and, he realizes, easier to penetrate. He withdraws from her then, but only to kiss the insides of her thighs, something he realizes he enjoyed more than anything – the feeling of that softest of skin against his own.

Petey can't help but let out an audible breath, feeling like her head might explode with the overload of emotion and vicarious sensation. And somehow, the sound travels through the humid air to Quinlan's ear. He looks up and sees something vague in the fog of steam – a figure – someone watching them. He's about to move to intercept it, but then something else, a voice from inside his own head, tells him not to – tells him that he can't. He stares hard into the fog at the figure that is Petey, watching him from more than a thousand years in the future – and she holds her breath when she sees his whitish eyes looking at her.

"Take her, Quintus…do it," Antonia commands, drawing his attention away. He clamps his hands down on the handmaid's legs to keep her still and unfurls the stinger, letting it push its way into her. The handmaid gasps in shock, stiffening up – but Quinlan holds her in place, pushing farther in. But then he meets resistance from inside her – a barrier or membrane of some kind. Quinlan hesitates then, realizing that breaking through it would most likely be painful for her. And as much as he doesn't want to do that, he's equally curious – and weary of being used. Not just by Antonia, but by Sertorius and the fiends that kept him caged up in a freak show, in chains a with an iron collar over his face.

The handmaid had given her consent – so if he was going to continue it wasn't going to be because anyone else was forcing him to. It would be because he wanted to. And he does want to, more than anything else he ever wanted. So Quinlan grips the handmaid's thighs tight and pushes the stinger in with enough force to break through the membrane. And as the handmaid lets out a sharp cry of pain, Quinlan tastes her blood.

Petey slaps a hand over her mouth, both in shock and disgust – mostly with herself, because she's as aroused by what she's seeing as she is horrified by it. "I wanna go…let me go now…please…" she whispers to whatever is controlling these visions. But she remains, watching Quinlan and the handmaid in their grotesque, mesmerizing dance.

Quinlan shuts his eyes in rapture, feeling the handmaid's pelvic muscles tightening around the stinger. He feels her leg muscles trembling, her whole body trembling uncontrollably in shock as he moves inside her. Then he withdraws from her and stands up, glaring at Antonia with the handmaid's blood all over his mouth. He licks his lips and gathers the handmaid up in his arms, setting her down in the warm water.

"You need these healing waters more than I," he says, and she grabs his hand.

"Invictus," she says. Holding his face in her delicate hands, she kisses him, blood and all – and Quinlan relishes it, how soft and tender she is. He caresses her face and touches their foreheads together.

"Thank you, my lady," he whispers, kissing her one last time. Then he steps out of the tub and picks up his tunic off the floor, dressing as Antonia sidles up to him.

"Well done, Quintus," she says, draping herself over him – but he steps back from her.

"I take my leave now," he replies, and Antonia looks at him, surprised.

"I did not say you could go," she says.

"I do not require your permission."

Antonia's lovely eyes flash with indignation. "Are you defying me?" she says, her voice rising. But then Quinlan grabs her by the throat and lifts her right off the ground, slamming her back into the nearest wall.

Petey's stomach drops at seeing it, dreading what might come next, as Quinlan puts his face right up to Antonia's, which has taken on a much different expression – that of terror instead of superiority.

"Choose your next words with great care, Vestal," Quinlan says, seething. "For if they are not the words I wish to hear they will be your last, consequences be damned. Now…will I ever see your face again?"

He loosens his grip just enough, so she can answer. "No," Antonia replies.

"Will you leave me be?"

"Yes…I will," she replies as fearful tears stream down her flushed cheeks. Quinlan stares into her, feeling her racing pulse – and tempted, oh, so tempted to kill her.

"If you do not keep your word…if you have me punished for your depravity, make no mistake, I will kill you," he warns – and Antonia lets out a terrified breath. Then he lets go of her and she falls to the floor, clutching her throat and coughing. Quinlan lingers on her for a moment and then starts walking out – but she calls to him.

"Quintus…" she says, but not in her usual way – more like a plead, as she reaches out to him and he just stares at her in disgust.

"You are not worthy to be so familiar with me, Vestal. To you…I am Invictus."

Petey follows Quinlan as he walks out and back down the stairs, picking the cloak up off the floor and putting it back on. He walks out into the night air, breathing in deeply – finding it freeing, a relief from the hot, closed-off bath chamber. Petey breathes in deeply too, taking in the majestic sight of the great city at night.

"Take me back to my cell," Quinlan says to the waiting centurion, and Petey walks with them as they head back toward the Colosseum the same way they came. Quinlan keeps his distance behind the centurion, his eyes on him as they re-enter the passageway at The Forum.

Once inside and far enough down that they're out of everyone's earshot, Quinlan attacks the centurion from behind. Petey gasps and jumps back, plastering herself against the wall as Quinlan launches his stinger into the centurion's neck and drains him dry – then he lets go, throwing his head back with the rush, blood dripping from the sides of his mouth, letting out a purely Strigoi roar – loud enough that Petey slaps her hands over her ears. And her eyes widen in horror as she watches Quinlan beat the centurion's body to a pulp – partly, she knows, for his own protection. The centurion would be all but unrecognizable and there would be no way to determine who killed him. But Petey also knows that he's doing it to vent his rage against Antonia, doing to him what he would have done to her.

Petey hangs back as Quinlan walks off, watching him fade into the distance. And she sits there with the bloody heap of centurion next to her and does what has become an unpleasant ritual – drawing her knees in and burying her head in her arms, crying until whatever's controlling her visions decides to let her wake up.


Petey sits up, going through the next part of the new-and-unpleasant ritual – trying to remember where she is – and when she is, re-orienting herself to the here and now…2014…the Olympian Club…New York…the vampire apocalypse. Fuck.

And even though it's winter outside, Petey's face and torso are covered in sweat, like she's run a marathon in the middle of summer – or more appropriately to this night, just been through a long, uncomfortable screw in the back of a sweltering car, one where she didn't even get to come. She throws the covers off and heads for the bathroom to go through the last part of the new-and-unpleasant ritual – splashing her face with freezing cold water. She looks at herself in the mirror and shakes her head, burying her face in her hands as she leans on the sink – wondering how many more of these vision-slash-memories she can handle.

She walks out of the bathroom and stares at the bed – and as much as she loves sleep, it's the last thing she wants to do now. So she grabs her parka and digs her e-cigarette out of her bag, walking out and heading for the roof.


And up on the roof, Quinlan leans against the wall by the door, feeling his head finally clearing of the fog of memory – but all he remembers now is that Petey was there, inside his head, watching him fuck two women in Rome over a thousand years ago.

She saw him – and he saw her.

Or did he really? Was she actually there at the time it happened? No, of course not…that's impossible. Of course, so was being able to see Petey as a child. It had to have been part of this new, cerebral connection between them. Now their memories were starting to tangle and mix and blur together – displacing time itself and it was powerful stuff.

It takes him another moment to get his bearings, then Quinlan goes back inside – and as soon as the door shuts, Petey looks up, hearing it from her spot on the stairs. Her chest flutters with the scare – and then keeps fluttering – because she knows who it is.

And as he descends from the roof, Quinlan's chest flutters too – because he can smell her now, stirring the air with her intoxicating scent, and she's close. Excitement races through him, mixed with growing dread at what she might be about to say or do.

And as she ascends from below, Petey feels the same excitement, the same dread – until finally, they see each other as she comes up to and he comes down to the same landing. They stare at each other for what seems like forever, both of them afraid to break the silence. Quinlan stares into her eyes – eyes that sometimes appeared green, and sometimes, like now, appeared brown. And he realizes that he's never been more afraid in his long, long life than he is at this very moment. He's fought wars in close combat, slayed thousands upon thousands of men and monsters. But nothing has ever frightened him as much as the thought of being rejected – and resented – by this woman.

And as Petey stares back at him, into his eyes that sometimes barely appeared at all they were so white, and sometimes, like now, a pale, icy blue – she feels fear of a different kind. She fears she may never be able to free herself of his memories. She fears she may never be able to break this crazy, mental connection that she never meant to make in the first place – a connection that she's not sure she wants to keep.

But what Petey fears most is what she feels the deepest of all – empathy. As she looks at Quinlan, she doesn't see the Strigoi anymore. She sees the human being, the man hopelessly interconnected with the monster, struggling to make sense of opposite ways of being. Struggling to survive in a world that needs him but hates and rejects him. Struggling to live among people he must feed on and yet longs to connect with. Quinlan is a being of contradictions and impossibilities – and as she looks at him, Petey also realizes that whether she wants to be or not, she is probably the only person in the world who understands him – the only person who can truly say she knows what he's going through.

Petey stows her e-cigarette in her pocket and takes a step forward – encouraging Quinlan to take a step toward her. He decides to go for it before he completely loses his nerve, and gently takes her hand. He rubs his cheek against the thin, silky skin on the top of her hand – and it works like heat to ice, melting him down. He presses his dry lips to her skin and Petey draws in a breath, as he traces along her hand to her knuckles and fingers. And they each know what the other is thinking now – because it's the same thing and it's nothing deep, nothing transcendent or magical. They saw each other in that bath chamber in ancient Rome, surrounded by heat and steam and sweat and sex. A memory of intimacy and carnal desire that they both want to experience again – with each other.

Petey pulls her hand away but only to touch his face and bring it closer to hers. As she does, he grabs her around the waist, putting them nose-to-nose. Close enough that they can feel each other's breath tickling their faces. Close enough that they can both feel the pull between them, growing stronger and more insistent to get even closer. A pull that leads from noses and foreheads touching to lips hovering just millimeters apart.

Then the distance closes and their lips touch. Quinlan feels his first kiss in in two hundred years – and it feels amazing. Petey doesn't kiss him like Louisa used to – she's not dainty or sweet about it. She's formidable and passionate…she's…

hungry. Just like me.

Everything happens in a whirlwind after that thought goes through his mind, because after that, he stops thinking – and so does Petey. Their kiss deepens, getting warmer and wetter as their tongues start dancing and their hands start roaming over each other. Quinlan pushes Petey's coat off her shoulders, and as soon as it hits the floor he lays her down on it. They don't even bother to undress any further – they don't need to. They know exactly what they need to do to get to where they want to be. Quinlan slides a hand between Petey's scrub pants and her bare behind. And Petey helps him along, lifting herself up so he can push the pants down enough to gain access. Then she grabs his hand and slides his fingers into her mouth. And Quinlan can't help but let out a hard breath when he feels that warm wetness, her tongue rolling over his skin. His chest tightens up at it, at how much he missed feeling it – and how grateful he is to feel it again. He dives into the spot between her neck and shoulder, kissing her there and sucking on her skin as she moves his hand back down between her legs.

She positions him where he needs to be – and then he's inside her. Petey lets out a hard moan and they look at each other in shock, a little bit of fear – and total bliss.

Petey starts to move under him, drawing his fingers in as deep as she can. Quinlan attacks her mouth with his, and Petey hears the telltale rattling in his throat – the Strigoi cry for blood. But not just anyone's, she knows – it's for hers, and only hers. Instead of being terrified, it makes her feel special – wanted – needed. Desperately needed. And to be so desperately needed by one so powerful and feared turns her on even more. She moves his fingers, so some can stimulate her on the outside while still inside her at the same time – and she grinds harder, picking up the rhythm, riding the building wave. She doesn't even care how noisy she's being, or how her moaning might be echoing all over the building or who might be hearing them.

Then Petey hits her climax and she cries out as the wave bowls her over and she loses control of her body, her neck and back arching hard – and her loss of control makes Quinlan lose his. He breaks off kissing her as the stinger pushes its way out, and he pushes himself up to keep it away from her.

Still riding her high, Petey stares at the stinger as it hovers above her – then she locks eyes with Quinlan.

And she nods.

Quinlan hesitates, surprised – but she nods again, giving him permission to let go and do what he needs to do. He lifts her shirt and as soon as he sees bare skin the stinger launches, latching on to Petey's side by her ribs. She gasps, and her eyes roll back a bit – and Quinlan holds her down to keep her from moving around too much. He drinks her blood in and closes his eyes with the ecstasy of it, holding on until he hears her whimpering and he feels her blood pressure dropping.

Then he lets go and retracts the stinger, rocking his head back and bellowing like the creature he is. He licks every stray drop of blood from around his mouth and looks down at Petey with a heaving chest and clear eyes – but she's faded into unconsciousness, her eyes closed and her head lolling to one side, too heavy for her to move.

The heady fog of their sudden, fiery passion dissipates and reality sets back in. Getting his breath back, Quinlan moves off Petey and gathers her up, using her parka like a blanket. He adjusts his hold on her so her head rests on his shoulder, and he listens to the weak sounds that flow out with her breathing as he carries her back down the stairs – slipping quietly through the main floor to her room. He sets her down on her bed, just like he did after she let him feed on her the first time and saved his life.

He tucks her in, making sure her head rests comfortably cradled in the pillows. But this time when Quinlan goes back to the door, instead of immediately leaving, he locks it to keep any unexpected visitors from barging in. Then he returns to the bed and carefully slides on next to Petey, turning her sleeping face to his. He kisses her warm forehead and tangles his fingers in her hair, just staring at her until he feels an unusually peaceful drowsiness overtaking him too. Then a whispered thought escapes before he gives over to sleep.

"Thank you, my lady."