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Emilia appraised the reflection staring back at her from the mirror as her maid pulled her corset tighter. She had to admit that her mother was right. She looked pretty. Nothing like herself, but very pretty. It wasn't that she didn't like dressing up. The dress was definitely an adult dress; heavily embroidered blue silk with a low neckline; her mother's intentions in choosing it were clear: it was time for her only daughter to find herself a husband and secure her future. She thanked the maid and dismissed her before returning her attention to her reflection in the mirror. She teased her hair a little so it fell a little more softly around her face.

This had been the first year she had been required to regularly attend these dances and she was suffering from a severe bout of social fatigue. Despite how much she had looked forward to her society debut, her busy social calendar made her wistful for last summer when her days had largely spent reading on the veranda, exploring the grounds on foot or horseback or taking tea with her cousins. She didn't see what could make her happier than that. Certainly none of the petulant boys from the surrounding area who were more interested in her ability to be a good wife, than in her personality and ideas. The prospect marriage to one of those simpletons seemed to be a terribly dull one.

She knew exactly what had prompted her mother's enthusiasm for getting her married off. Georgina, one of her friend's daughters, a rather plain sort if you asked Emilia, had recently been swept off her feet by a wealthy young bachelor from London. The romance had been a whirlwind of grand gestures and beautiful gifts and from the moment it had begun, Emilia could see her mother making similar plans for her own future. If it was all just lavish gifts and extravagant dances, Emilia would have no problem with her mother's plans, but it wasn't just that. Whichever man was deigned to be a good match for her would want something more from her than mere friendship and she wasn't sure that she was ready for what that would entail.

After a long argument with her mother, it was her cousin, Catherine, who had finally persuaded Emilia to attend this evening's dance with the promise that she would be accompanying her and that there would be lemon cake at tea the next day. Emilia liked to think that she drove a hard bargain.

She entered the ballroom glued to Catherine's side with no intention of separating from her. She had found the girls her own age entertaining at first, but after a few dances their idle chatter and screeching laughter had become more than a little tedious.. She would humour her mother by coming to these things and by looking the part. It didn't mean that she had any intention in partaking in the expected rituals.

A servant approached the pair of them with a tray of drinks, she looked to Catherine for approval before taking a glass. She had hoped the drink would be cool and refreshing, but instead the red liquid was room temperature and earthy. Her aunt noticed her weak attempt to disguise her grimace and squeezed her arm reassuringly.

'You really should at least attempt to mingle.' She urged Emilia. 'Finishing your drink will help with your nerves.'

Emilia arched a sceptical brow.

'You'll get used to the taste. It grows on you.'

'It's not my nerves that are the problem.' Emilia huffed, she knew for a fact that she was an accomplished flirt, she just doubted that there was anyone here that she would be interested in talking to. 'I'm just not really in the mood for husband-hunting right now. There is not a single man here who will catch my eye. I guarantee it.'

Catherine laughed. 'You are of marrying age now Emilia, before long another flock of young girls will be arriving on the scene. You don't want to end up an old spinster like Hattie Webster do you?'

Emilia agreed, she certainly didn't want to end up like old Hattie Webster who all the children joked was a witch.

'It isn't so bad really,' Catherine assured her. 'You just haven't seen the right boy yet, that's all. When you do, it won't seem nearly so bad.' Catherine unlinked their arms as a middle aged woman made a grand entrance across the hall from where they were standing. 'Lady Haigh's just arrived. I should go and say hello. I've not seen her since the Christmas ball and I really should pass on my condolences about her sister-in-law.'

'What happened to her sister-in-law?' Emilia asked, trying to mask her disinterest.

'Do you pay any attention to the world outside your books?' Catherine shook her head in mock exasperation.'

'I try not to. It's usually depressingly dull.'

'She passed away a week or so ago. She'd been ill for quite some time.'

'Oh.' Emilia felt a little embarrassed by her enthusiasm for the gossip now. 'That's terribly sad. Please, pass on my sympathies.'

'I will. Now try to at least have a little fun whilst I'm gone.' She pecked Emilia on the forehead. 'Promise me.'

'I promise.'

Emilia scanned the room, trying to pick out anyone that seemed as though they might be remotely interesting. Her eyes rested on a pair of men standing on the other side of the room, observing the other guests just as she was. She didn't recognise them. They looked a little older than she was, about mid-twenties at a guess. One brunette and one red head. Both rather attractive

The darker haired one noticed her looking at him and smiled conspiratorially at her. He whispered something in his friend's ear before crossing the room to her. He was a slight man and his movements were graceful, and something made her think that in different circumstances they might have seemed almost predatory, what an odd thought to have. She dismissed it as he approached.

'You don't look like you are particularly enjoying yourself my lady. If you don't mind me saying.'

Emilia flushed. 'Oh dear. Is it that obvious?'

He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. 'I wouldn't worry too much.' He said with a wry smile. 'I rather pride myself on being perceptive. I suspect most of the other distinguished guests are too busy chasing their own tails to notice much that's going on around them. And besides, these events do tend to be painfully dull.'

She was a little shocked that this man was speaking so candidly. Even if you had those kind of thoughts, you didn't speak them out loud. She found it undeniably attractive. 'You can't say that!' she playfully admonished him.

'I won't tell anyone if you don't.'

'Only because you agree.' He teased.

'It's true, I can think of things I would prefer to be doing right now. But my mother has other ideas and so here I am.'

'In that case, I hope I can make your evening a little more enjoyable than it otherwise would have been.'

'Then I thank you for your efforts in advance. If you share my disdain for these events, why are you here at all? I don't see anyone forcing you to be here'

He nodded. 'No, you are correct. No one is forcing me to be here, but it seemed rude to turn down the invitation without a good excuse. And besides, good company can make even the most tedious of events a little enjoyable. The string quartet had started to play and a small crowd was gathering on the dance floor. 'Can I tempt you with a dance?'

Emilia blushed and felt her heart flutter enthusiastically in her chest. 'Yes, you may.' She offered her hand to him to lead the way. He guided her expertly around the floor making soft quips about their fellow dancers and the social oddities of court life in London. She found herself utterly drawn in by him. He had a worldliness about him that the local boys could only dream of possessing and actually seemed to enjoy her wilfulness for which her mother so often chastised her.

'I've not seen you around before have I?'

'No.' he agreed. 'I'm largely based in London. But my friend has some strong family ties here, so I imagine I may be staying a while. I think I would like to get to know you a little better. If that is acceptable to you of course.'

'That would most certainly be acceptable to me.' She said, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. This man was making her feel something that she had never felt before. Something that she couldn't quite place her finger on. It was a little unnerving, but pleasant all the same. 'Rural Buckinghamshire must seem terribly dull after the excitement of the capital.' She noted.

'Perhaps, but it definitely has its perks.' He smiled charmingly.

The quartet's first set finished too quickly and Emilia wracked her brain trying to find excuses to continue their conversation. However, it seemed that her mysterious dance partner had no intentions of parting company with her just yet. She observed as he politely accepted two champagne off one of the servants before handing her one and mopping his brow. 'It's terribly stifling in here. Perhaps you would join me in the garden, our host tells me the lake looks splendid in the setting sun and I don't know about you, but I could do with a little fresh air before we re-join the masses on the floor.'

His eyes darted to her neck for the briefest of moments before returning to meet hers. For a fraction of a second she could have sworn they were pure black. A trick of the dying light she assumed. Emilia glanced over to where Catherine was still giggling away with the other married women. She was still engrossed in the conversation and Emilia doubted that anyone would notice if she slipped away for a few moments. Sneaking off to watch the sunset with a handsome stranger was hardly proper, but acting in the proper manner was so terribly boring.

'A little fresh air would be lovely.' She agreed, allowing her companion to lead her toward the doors. Just before they reached them, something made her hesitate. Though she couldn't place exactly what. She brushed the feeling aside and followed him outside.

'I never caught your name.' she stammered

'How rude of me.' His voice sounded slightly heavier than it had before, 'My name is Henry Yorke and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.'

Johnny yelped as the knife slipped between the ribs on his back and entered his lungs and then wheezed and choked as he began to drown in his own blood. He rolled over onto his back. His eyes starring up at Emilia, desperately pleading for something, though for what, she had no idea He opened his mouth, but blood instead of words flowed from between his lips. His body juddered and then he was still. It was over.

She sensed something behind her and turned. It was Johnny's door. It was grand door, but well weathered too. A welcoming door. Johnny stood in silence looking down at his body before turning, opening the door and disappearing into its welcoming light. He didn't waste a glance on either vampire. Emilia couldn't help but feel a little jealous. There would be no light for her when her time came. Only dust.

Hal rolled over onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief. 'Get this thing off me.' He demanded, gesturing towards the bookcase. Emilia regarded him and winced. Johnny had done some real damage. Hal's shirt was torn and stained dark red with blood, Johnny's as well as his own judging by the angry burns that were showing through the wrecked fabric. His face had fared even worse; those pleasant features that had drawn so many to a grisly death were red raw and blistered; he looked repulsive. He looked how a monster should look. Good on you Johnny, she thought glancing at the werewolf's body

Hal's body jerked involuntarily and he clutched at his side. 'I said, get this fucking thing off me.'

'That's the way you speak to the person who just saved your life? Did none of your mothers teach you any manners?'

He smiled sarcastically. 'Please darling, would you kindly remove this bookshelf before it completely crushes my fucking leg!' His voice raised in a crescendo and his face contorted as another wave of pain shot through him.

Emilia struggled as she lifted the bookcase just high enough for him to wriggle out of its way before letting it crash to the floor once more. Hal rolled onto his back, breathing heavily.

'I wasn't sure if would come through for me for a moment there.' He fixed her with a sharp look. 'You hesitated.'

'I saved you.'

'But first you hesitated.'

Of course she had bloody hesitated. Out of the two of the two men lying on the floor, the man dead with a knife in his back was most certainly not the one who deserved it.

'You had me followed.' She accused, eager to change the subject.

'Can you blame me? You hesitated while a werewolf was trying to force its poisonous blood down my throat. You've hardly shown yourself to be reliable recently. Trust must be earned'

'You know that's bloody rich coming from you.'

'Perhaps if we could postpone this little domestic argument until later,' he nodded towards his left side and Emilia finally noticed that he had been pressing his hand down on it. He lifted it away and she saw that it was drenched in blood and that more was pouring out.

She carefully sidestepped the pool of Johnny's blood that had spread around his body and crouched at Hal's side. 'You're hurt.'

'Nothing gets past you does it.' He sniped. 'I need blood and I need it now.'

Emilia's mind whirred into a panic. Could she bring him someone fast enough? Injuries like Hal's would require a lot of blood to heal and she strongly doubted that she could wrestle an unwilling victim up three flights of stairs to feed him in time.

'Can you stand?'

'Do I look like I can bloody stand?' His face twisted in pain as he pushed himself up so that he was propped on his elbows. 'There's some blood in that decanter in the cabinet. It won't be enough but it's better than nothing.'

Emilia stood and fetched the decanter before gently easing Hal into her lap and holding the glass to his lips. He drank the blood hungrily before softening and collapsing into unconsciousness.

'Hal.' She shook him. 'Hal?'

He didn't respond but even in the low light he looked grey. She dragged him across the floor towards the chaise longue and placed a cushion under his head before collecting one of her winter shawls from the wardrobe in his room and draping it over him.

She rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on her long skirts on numerous occasions. She ran into the kitchen and took a bucket and a knife before making her way down into the depths of the house. She shuddered involuntarily as she entered the cellar. She had never liked it down here. It was a dank and miserable place where moans of pain rattled between the blood stained walls. It brought bad memories of her own captivity to mind. This wasn't where Hal had held her captive, but as far as she was concerned, if you'd seen one vampire's cellar you had seen them all.

She searched the darkness for the nearest captive and knelt down by his side. It was a young man. She held up a candle to his face to get a better look at him. His features were a bloody mess. Clearly he had been used as someone's punching bag. She didn't bother to wonder who he might have been, lives didn't matter down here. She was probably doing him a favour by killing him like this. He barely even resisted as she took hold of his hair in one hand and tugged his head so that his neck was resting over the lip of the bucket before drawing the knife across his throat, letting his blood spill into the container. Once the blood flow began to slow, she pulled the bucket away and let the man's body fall to the floor before hurrying back up the stairs to Hal.

He didn't look like his condition had changed much since she had left him. He looked worse if anything, even paler than before, though it was difficult to tell in the darkness. She knelt by his side and eased him into her lap. Using a glass from his desk, she scooped the blood from the bucket and attempted to pour it between his lips. Trying to feed blood to an unconscious vampire was surprisingly difficult. More blood fell down his chin that made it between his lips. Damn it. In spite of herself, she felt a tear fall from her eye. She wasn't sure what she would do without Hal. Even after he had abandoned her all those years ago, not a day had passed without her thinking about him, dreaming that they would cross paths again. To lose him properly, to watch him crumble to ash, she didn't think she could handle that. Whether she liked it or not, Hal Yorke had made himself the centre of her world since the moment he had entered it.

Emilia couldn't for the life of her understand why he had decided that he should face Johnny alone. She thought he would have wanted an audience for what he had almost certainly seen as his inevitable victory over the wolf. Why did he always have to be so bloody arrogant? If he hadn't decided to send all of the guards away for his final showdown with Johnny, they wouldn't be in this mess. It would have been a simple fight, easily won. Not this carnage. In a fit of frustration she slapped him. His eyes flew open in surprise. 'Come on.' She urged, lifting the glass to his lips again. 'Drink.'

Finally he drank.

When he was finally sated, Hal let his head fall back to the floor and grinned at her. 'You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you? No matter what I do, you'll always be there for me.'

Emilia felt a little sick at that. It was true though. She could have let Johnny kill him, she probably should have done. But instead she had stabbed a good man in the back and chosen to save Hal. Hal who probably wouldn't think twice before sacrificing her like some inconsequential pawn in a chess game. What happened to you Emilia? she wondered as she cradled him in her arms. She wished that she could say for certain that there was some limit to her bond to Hal. A point at which she'd finally turn her back on him for good, but she couldn't imagine for the life of her what despicable act it would take for her to finally turn her back on him for good.