Vlad spent the night haunting the village like a specter. Early in the morning, not long before dawn, a woman appeared. His patience bred from stubbornness had been what kept him lingering for so long. He had a taste for blood and meant to get it. The woman was stout and firmly muscled, a milkmaid, carrying her pail with her as she strode casually toward the barn where the cows were kept at night. The villagers always took in the livestock should the bloodsucking pariah terrorizing them decide to have a meal on the hoof. Vlad found the very idea of drinking the blood of animals repugnant and downright vile. Their blood lacked an extremely vital ingredient that he needed to maintain his spurious existence: a soul. As he followed the woman, his eyes tracing her voluptuous curves, another appetite stirred as well. Distracted, consumed by his physical desires, he did not question why she found it necessary to milk the cows way before dawn. A smile tugged the corners of his lips upward as she lifted the latch of the barn door, leaving it open as if inviting him to follow her inside. He had never needed permission before to pursue his prey and was not seeking it now as he boldly swung the door open wide to announce his presence.

The woman whirled around to gape at him in stunned bewilderment, her eyes wide and full of fear. Oh, how he loved that look! An electric shock of excitement bounced across his nerve endings giving him the delicious illusion of being completely alive again. His heart beat faster, thrumming in his ears, as he strode forward to reach her in just a few steps. Clamping one hand over her mouth before she could scream, he squeezed the back of her neck with his other hand to hold her still. His head swam from the euphoria evoked by her terror. If he had been in control of his senses, he would have noticed the difference in sound of the boards underneath his feet as he walked. The area where he presently stood had sounded hollow, as if there was no ground underneath. Had he not allowed his selfish desires to obliterate his awareness, he would have detected the presence of the men hiding inside the stalls. If the aroma of her blood had not intoxicated him, he would have at least smelled them despite the scent of the horses and cows hiding their scent.

"Shhhh," he hissed, lowering his face until the tip of his nose grazed hers. He could detect the fear wafting off of her like a pleasant perfume that mingled with the smell of fresh hay and the stench of manure. He was vaguely aware of the conflicting array of scents which became overwhelming and made him dizzy. Gazing into her horror stricken eyes that were the same color of the blue sky that he had not seen in many decades, he whispered, "Don't make a sound. Do you understand me?"

The woman nodded mutely, her eyes never leaving his. A tiny pinpoint of red light appeared in the middle of his eyes, growing in size until the black holes in his head became mesmerizing dual fires. He was hypnotizing her, casting a spell of sorts to bring her under his control so that she would not cry out or fight him. As a matter of fact, the women he chose almost always enjoyed giving their lives to him because it was such climactic, pleasurable experience despite the agony of death. When her body relaxed into his, her firm breasts pressing against his chest as her knees gave way, he knew he had her in his grasp both physically and mentally.

"There we go. That's a good girl," he cooed, lifting his hand from her mouth. Before he could enclose her waist to get a firmer hold on her to drink her blood, she was snatched from his arms.

A low growl escaped him, his head whipping from side to side in confusion. Men using farm implements as improvised weapons approached him from all sides. To further deepen his dismay that bordered on dazed hysteria, the floor shifted under his feet then disappeared entirely. He was falling. The fall was extremely short with an unimaginably painful landing.

Vlad roared in fury and agony, his thunderous voice making the weathered old barn shake from the sound. He had been impaled by eight foot tall wooden stakes that had been coated with silver dust. One stake had entered the bottom of one of his boot and exited at his hip. Another one had skewered him at an angle from his groin to his shoulder. The third spike ran him through from the other side, entering at his outer thigh and running clear through to his other shoulder, poking through at his neck where it had pierced the artery. His blood poured from his wounds, drenching his clothes to trickle down the stakes where it soaked into the soft dirt floor of the ten foot deep pit. He was dying slowly, in horrible physical torment and mental anguish, from his own favored method of torturous murder.

"No," he murmured in disbelief, his voice a hoarse whisper. "This can't be happening."

"So this is the evil creature?" one man asked, leaning over the opening to see him more clearly.

"Oh, my God! It looks human," another man interjected, disgust evident in his voice.

Vlad could not see the men due to his compromised vision with the light positioned behind their heads. All he could see was the outline of human figures, faceless silhouettes.

"It looks like a man. But it's a monster," a woman said, a sob punctuating her sentence.

Vlad assumed the female was the one who had lured him into the barn. He struggled to move, grunting with the effort. He was dying, losing his immortality, soul by soul. The souls were oozing from him like his blood, escaping from the prison of his body to be released at last to find eternal rest. He needed to pull himself off these damnable stakes so he could heal. His heart pumped harder when he strained to move. The blood spilled from his wounds more profusely with each useless motion, each pitiful attempt to raise himself from the stakes that held him captive.

"He's not dead yet," another man announced, his voice strong and loud. He seemed completely unfazed by the supernatural creature they had caught in their trap.

In the moonlight that had taken on a soft silvery haze as if all of this were a nightmare from which he could not awaken, Vlad saw the outline of a crossbow in the man's hand. He watched in dumbfounded shock as the man released the thick, square stake with a hand carved point that had been loaded into the weapon instead of an arrow. Pain exploded in his chest, sending out aftershocks of fiery pain that streaked through his whole body when the stake penetrated his heart. This could not be happening. Giving up on his struggle in an effort to cling to some modicum of life, he stilled his ravaged body. Dirt rained down upon him as he gradually fell asleep, going into a type of hibernation so his body could heal without needlessly destroying anymore of the souls still left. In time, the wooden stakes would disintegrate, becoming like the earth they were throwing into the hole on top of him. Then he would regenerate. One day he would return.

~...~

Willie gasped, shaking herself awake from the horrible nightmare. She dreamed she was being been buried alive. In the nightmare, dirt had clogged her nose and mouth preventing her from breathing. The dirt covered her eyes and filled her ears, stealing her sight and hearing. It kept coming, falling from the sky until it weighed heavily upon her body. She could not move. She could not dig her way out. The sensations had been so terribly vivid that she was panting for air in panic.

"Vlad," she whispered, twisting the sheets in her hand. Then she became aware that she had lived through a real nightmare. The fire. She shivered uncontrollably despite the sweat that covered her body. Where was she now?

Keeping her eyes closed, Willie inhaled deeply then lay still to listen. She recognized this place. Scents of pine and morning glories hung heavily in the thin mountain air. The sound of dripping water from a natural spring echoed off of the stone walls. Even the soft bed under her and the lavender scented sheets around her were familiar. Her raw nerves were soothed by this place. She was home in a way, being at the gypsy castle in the mountains. How did she get here? Wading through her memories of what had happened, despite being fractured and frightening, she was determined to recall how she could have arrived here. She remembered a gigantic, beautiful white wolf. Then a voice, a man's voice, telling her that she was safe, that he was a friend.

"Gannon?" she asked herself out loud. Could it really be him? Her answer came quickly from the darkness surrounding her.

"I'm here," he said, sitting down on the bed beside her. He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "You're awake."

"How long have I been here?" she inquired, opening her eyes to look at him.

"Several weeks. You were hibernating I suppose so your body could repair itself. You were pretty badly burned. But you're all healed now," he said, looking right into her eyes.

Willie wondered how he could see through the bleakness surrounding them. She could see him clearly, and he had changed. He was older, but not as old as he should have looked considering how much time had passed. His face and body had broadened, becoming brawny instead bearing the long smooth muscles he had in his youth. His hair had lightened to a white color and was longer, shaggier, giving him a slightly wild appearance. The only lines on his face rested at the corners of his eyes and lips. She hoped many years of smiles and laughter, happiness beyond belief, had caused those wrinkles. His eyes were still a deep blue like a gorgeous summer sky but seemed to hold a luminescence as they studied her in turn.

"How did you find me?" she asked, sitting up beside him. She extended her hand to touch him, afraid he might disappear and this was just another illusion.

"I've never been far from you," he said, taking her hand in his. He pulled it to his lips, kissing the palm. "I've watched over you for years, my lady. I told you I would always be there to protect you."

"Are you - " she paused, pulling her hand from his. Her fingers moved over his chest visible at the top of his shirt that hung open. His once hairless chest bore a fine coating of white hair that was like fur. "Are you the wolf who saved me? Are you the one who whose voice I've heard at night?"

For a moment he looked embarrassed, his eyelashes lowering against his tanned cheek. Apparently he could still walk in the sun. She envied him for that. She watched the blood flow under his skin, warm and red, rushing faster through his veins as his heart beat faster.

"Yes. That was me," he answered sheepishly, sliding his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him. "The gypsies possess all kinds of wonderful and terrifying magic."

"Indeed," she murmured, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

"I'm not immortal like you. I have an increased life span, but I won't live forever," he explained to her, his eyes scanning her face when she pulled back to look at him. "You haven't changed at all. You still look like the girl I met a lifetime ago. But then, you never will change. You'll always be young and beautiful."

Willie instantly became self-conscious, lowering her eyes from his as he stared at her. She took his hand in hers, tracing the prominent veins on the back of it. Her stomach tumbled and spasmed with hunger. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Become a werewolf?" he asked, pushing the auburn colored hair behind her ear that had fallen over her face to block his view. She no longer had freckles on her skin. They had disappeared to leave behind an expanse of flawless white skin that was like fine porcelain. "I wanted to stay around for a while to watch over you. Maurus gave me a way to do that. He made me a part of the pack."

"What?" she gasped, her eyes meeting his. "Are you telling me that the gypsies, all them, were werewolves?"

"Yes, they are," he answered bluntly. Sliding his fingertips along the round curve of her jawline. She would forever be a lovely young woman retaining the softness and roundness of youth. "I'm the Alpha now. He left the pack in my care when he died."

"Where are they now?"

"Asleep."

"The girl, the night of the bonfire - "

"The last night I saw you," he interjected, cupping her cheek in his palm.

"Did you marry her? Do you have children? Tell me about your life," she requested, leaning back against her pillow. Her fingers intertwined with his as he positioned himself beside her.

"I married her. We never had children," he replied, an overwhelmingly sad tone evident in his voice. "Willie, Vlad killed her not long after we were married. She had gone to the village for supplies. We never had the chance to make a family."

Willie's chest tightened with guilt and sadness. She wanted to cry but felt it would be disrespectful to do so because she would be crying out of shame for what her husband had done.

"It's not your fault. I blame him and him only. I never retaliated because it would only break your heart. Revenge would have caused a lot of unnecessary pain. I felt guilty as well. I never loved her like I should have," he confessed, touching Willie's chin with his fingertips so she would look at him. "She married me knowing that my heart belonged to someone else. That never kept her from loving me. Unfortunately, her love wasn't strong enough to make me forget the one I held dear."

"Gannon..." she breathed, inhaling quick shallow breaths.

"Where is Vlad, Willie? Why isn't here?" he asked her.

"I-I d-don't kn-know," she stuttered, jerking her hand out of his. She scooted off the bed, moving to stand at the window covered by a tapestry that shut out the light. Immediately she began to ponder the possibility that Gannon's wife had made this. The picture depicting two dogs fighting, one white and one black, must have taken many long and arduous hours to sew.

"He's never been there for you when you needed him most. He's always been off, somewhere else, pursuing his own selfish interests when you needed him," he said, his voice rising with emotion. He went to her, seizing her arm to jerk her around to face him. His eyes glowed a brilliant silvery blue in the darkness - the wolf's eyes. "He's never been there for you...has he? Has he?!" he demanded, shaking her slightly.

"Gannon, stop it!" she screamed angrily, slapping his cheek with enough strength that he reeled backwards to fall onto the bed. "Oh, Gannon," she murmured quietly, gazing into his eyes that blazed an icy blue. They were captivating, his wolf eyes. "You've always been my hero and my friend, but Vlad is the man who holds my heart. I'm sorry."

"Well," he sighed, giving her a less than sincere smile. "I've always known that. But it still hurts to know that the man you love never really has known the true value of the gift you have given him. You gave him your heart, and then you gave him your life. He doesn't seem to understand just how precious that is."

"Please, stop," she begged, her chest aching because her heart was breaking. The truth hurt, and as much as she wanted to argue, she could not deny that he had spoken the truth.

"You'll wait for him. Just like before...won't you?" he asked, not moving from the bed. His cheek pulsed and burned from where she had struck him. He did not want to get near her at the moment because he was so angry. Not because she had hit him, but because after all this time, after almost getting killed since her loving husband was not there to protect her, she was still a fool. She was still a fool for Vlad and always would be. He wanted to hate her for it, wished it would obliterate his love for her, but it didn't. Damn it all anyway.

"He'll come back to me no matter how long it takes. And when he does, I'll be right here, waiting for him," she answered, resolute in her love for Vlad no matter how ridiculous it seemed to Gannon.

"Fine. Be an idiot. Continue to be his idiot for an eternity. But know this," he warned her. "I'll protect you no matter what. I'll kill him if I have to in order to keep that promise."