Author Note: Thanks for the reviews, favourites and story follows.

Sebastian LaCroix waited in the drawing-room on the second floor. He watched the young woman as she was going down the central staircase, her hand skimming over the handrail. She was going to the lower ground floor for the first-aid box, but it would not be long before she was back again, and he was considering his next actions.

He'd had her here for a few weeks now - just under a month. Things were progressing well; the assignment for which he had employed her was on track for completion on time. It wasn't an important task, but he had accumulated many things, and it would be useful to get them sorted before leaving here, so having someone with a specialisation in this area - rare book collections and archiving - would move it along faster and better. More to the point, he had wanted to observe her. A trial-run before making any long-term investment. He wouldn't give his superior blood until he was sure it would be worthwhile.

This was why he hadn't told her the reality of the situation yet, nor of the truth of what he was. Once that threshold was crossed, there would be more questions. He could tell she was an inquisitive type, which may be useful to him when allied to her research and organisation skills. However, in that same way, it could be dangerous to him as well. Although interested in the limits of her perception and deductive abilities - a test to see how long it would take her to unravel the truth - he didn't want it to get out of hand. He didn't want her poking around too much. Asking too many questions. Enquiring to outside people practised in reading between the lines to discover vampire activity... But he could manage the situation. She wasn't anything.

He could have chosen someone of greater experience and expertise than her, but as the work had required the candidate to come into his home, the fact that she was young and inexperienced was an attraction for him. She'd be naive and trusting; easy to handle.

Yet he was slightly on edge, but not out of apprehension of her. It was not long since he had awakened for the night - just over an hour ago. There was an edge of thirst in him. It had been convenient that she had placed herself here at this time. Usually, she had finished at least an hour before he was awake, and was cooped up in her apartment by the time the night came. But he let her have that privacy. Much as it was a popular trope in those crass vampire fictions, there was no need to pay any nighttime visitations there.

It seemed a long time now since he had first noticed her. His first interest purely to feed, but due to circumstances had not partaken of it then. And had not intended to yet until she'd made more progress with the work. It was never a desperate longing. It wasn't obsessive fixation upon this one individual. Not special. Just one of a selection of others that fit his preference.

Naturally, he was curious though. But he could afford to save her for later. She would be in his vicinity for a few more months, and there was no rush. He could keep her for an emergency, or wait to savour her blood for a suitable occasion.

But he might cut this wait shorter.

Since he had not been awake long, and she was conveniently placed, it was an ideal opportunity to feed. There was no definitive plan to do this after the informal meeting in the library office, but it was in his mind. If he did, he wanted to make this subtle. It would not be hard to coax her into a situation that allowed him… whilst sparing her the knowledge, for now, of what he was doing.

Then she had cut herself accidentally. A bad paper-cut. A surprising amount of blood, but minor. Nothing really. Yet it was a glitch in his plans. His waking thirst made him more sensitive.

Her blood was…

The smell was all around. Almost in the instance that first tiny red drop formed on her delicate skin. The change in him was subtle; there was no dramatic revelation of his vampiric nature. He was accustomed to this after centuries - small cuts and minor bleeding were commonplace - so he didn't fall upon her like a wild animal. But he was struck in attention like stone, stopping instantly at the door. Turning, his gaze fell back upon her. Though it was hardly anything, briefly there was that so familiar struggle in him and he needed to collect himself. She had her finger to her mouth, and for a second the thought came that he'd help her much better with that, but he dismissed it as vulgar.

A different mood then. A sense of closeness palpable between him and the human woman where it had not existed before.

He knew she was perceptive. Just how much had she noticed in his reaction? Not enough to remove all doubt, but it was an interesting experiment to see how much she might take note. However, he did not believe she would correctly interpret it even if she noticed something strange.

She was at least somewhat suspicious of him. He perceived that she sensed something amiss about him, and that was one reason he had chosen her for more than just a one-time feed. Some Kine had something akin to Auspex; it varied in potency and some so imbued were risky. At least, for now, this seemed to manifest in her as curiosity and fascination, rather than hysteria, aggressive suspicion and investigation. Let it remain that way! The truth would have to be revealed to her sooner or later, but not yet.

He waited near the mantle-piece, half shrouded in the shadow, whilst in thought. He heard her steps coming back up the stairs.

The drawing room overlooked the courtyard garden. There was a midnight blue blackness outside the windows. A warm glow from the floor light and table lamps on dimmer mode. A Gobelins tapestry on the wall. The interior was a regency opulence yet somehow cosy. But she had been here before. It was just that now it seemed more striking; glittery with nightfall enchantment.

She sat on the sofa, in the style of Louis XV. Almost afraid to sit on it. It was plusher and more comfortable than it appeared. Her eyes felt heavy. Perhaps, she might fall asleep on it. Staring up at the decorative ceiling. The chandelier lights dazzling.

Then, LaCroix came into vision. A glimpse of the darkness of the corridor beyond the door. And joined her there...

His fingers moved aside the dark hair strands that had fallen across her face. And turned her face with a gentle coax of his fingers. Her eyes looked into his unsurely. She could feel her stomach flutter. A warmth flushing her.

She felt every breath she took as he leaned in. A kiss of his full lips on her cheek; and then softly against her lips.

Wanting to be serene and relaxed, but inside was nervous with delight. Her legs pressed together, unconsciously squirming. She gripped his arm and wanting her body close to his.

His fingers knit through her thick dark hair, to the base of her head, holding her there. And the other hand slid over the small of her back. His lips brushed her skin; the curve of her jawline, further down…

Her pulse raced; felt like her blood was rushing feverishly. And her chest rose and fell slowly, deeply feeling each breath and desperate for a calmness. The anguish of anticipation. She wet her lips. A little moan. She arched her neck in exposed surrender.

And felt it.

The soft press of his lips on her neck. Pausing there.

She closed her eyes. Waiting. Wondering. Letting it happen.

And then…

Morning.

The drab light of day glowed through the curtains. It was a dismal late winter morning, and it was raining. The sun almost obscured by grey clouds. It had been another few weeks since last talking to Sebastian LaCroix.

Softness all around. Enveloped in the bed, hugging the duvet like a body pillow.

Amelia jolted awake. She had to stop dreaming like this. What was that? She swallowed. LaCroix was a handsome man, not to mention distinguished by his wealth and success, but the mystery about him added to the appeal most of all. But she pushed that thought away. She shouldn't think of him in that way.

But… unsatisfied. She wished the dream hadn't cut off where it had. Things were just getting interesting.

There was something different happening. What was it she wanted? What was he doing? This thing - a Kiss on her neck from him. It was like...

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror there. She looked at her neck, touching with light fingers where she'd been imagining he had. It felt so real, almost like she could still feel it now… but there was nothing at all. Her skin appeared totally unmarked. Hmmm, weird.

Sebastian LaCroix possessed an intriguing aura. He had given her a subtle unease the first time she met him. And she thought of that other monstrous being - pale as a corpse - which opened a sharp smile to bite it's victim's neck. A thin stream of blood down her skin...

LaCroix had a similar vibe, although less nefarious. If the truth came to her in dreams before, then perhaps this one was too. But she wasn't sure. She felt he had not told her the whole story and was withholding something significant. She'd had a hunch it was connected to the blood-drinking thing she had seen. Now to be dreaming of LaCroix perhaps doing that to her? Although much more pleasant...

The disturbance of that first memory had died the more she encountered him, but small things about him drew her attention like a vague alarm. She knew something was wrong. Reason would say she should mind her own business, not ask questions and get on with the job, take the money and run. But curiosity made that hard. It was hard to resist the temptation to solve this mystery. These are the facts that troubled her.

LaCroix was professional and hospitable, though he could be demanding. He was genteel, sometimes in a way more akin to that of centuries past than of the present. But he didn't seem old-fashioned or outmoded; he had too much youthful vigour for that to be so. Meanwhile, it was hard not to shake the unease. The more she saw of him, the more her awareness grew of a strangeness about him.

If she only saw him at night, that could be explained. How silent he could be - when he had come into the library, he seemed to have appeared like an apparition and had given her quite a fright. When he had stayed with her for dinner, he didn't eat. She'd never seen him do so… but, to be fair, she wasn't around him constantly, and he probably dined at some other time. And yet…

Something was enchanting in his presence and gaze. His light grey eyes with a glance seemed to wither and penetrate one's soul, even to feel impossible to look away, nor to do other than to please him. And, sometimes, when he looked at her there was something in them which she didn't like. His countenance was remarkable. He was pale, but at certain times the hue of his skin was a deadly pallor without the warmth of life. His hands had little warmth also, although hers were not especially warm either... but given the rest, it might be noteworthy.

Then that subtle change in him when she had bled. How fixed in attention he was. The mood had surged with a difference then. He seemed to know instantly, as he'd come to her without seeing what had happened as if he had a sixth sense.

The thing that came to mind from all this was "vampire" - no matter how absurd it was. So fanciful; the stuff of folklore, fiction and movies. Superstitious ramblings… And yet, it all made sense. A lot of sense. Imbued with a sense of the uncanny and interest in antiquarian and rare books, she had a good knowledge of the history of witchcraft, demonology and folklore belief. There were many ideas about vampires - some zanier than others - and she couldn't be sure what was fact. But many of her observations of LaCroix seemed to fit the bill.

But, if it is true, what can she do? Bide her time, gather evidence and do something about him like some kind of real-life Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Or, just bear it. There were only another two months - could she endure that? The first months' pay might have given her resolve. It was a lot to her; more than she'd ever earned before. The accommodation was provided, and it was a good, mostly independent and relaxed working environment, with the benefit of an impressive addition to her résumé. Maybe, Sebastian LaCroix was not so bad, and she might not have much reason to fear him? And she had had no ties at home to go back to now, anyway. When offered this, it had been too good an opportunity to miss. But she'd had reservations. This dread feeling crept up on her slowly. A confirmation of the doubt she had when offered this position. This latest occurrence - his reaction to her cut, and then her dream of being bitten by him like a vampire, was perhaps the icing on the cake. A dreadful thought - I hope he is not draining me in secret... But she'd need more evidence.

As Amelia had a few days off, she was going to a course held by the Rare Book School to assist with her work and expertise. But she also thought it an opportune time to look at the collections at Columbia University. She might find something useful to her investigations there.

She had a quick morning shower, and put on a grey knitted dress with long sleeves and fitted waist; paired with black tights and block-heeled ankle boots. The dress was one of her nicer items which she got while at university. In preparation for this job, she'd bought a couple of good quality clothes, just basic staples; nothing extremely expensive. Perhaps with the time off and payment into her bank account, she'd go shopping too. But, considering her concerns regarding LaCroix, thinking about fashion should have been the last thing on her mind.

Leticia, who appeared to be LaCroix's housekeeper, came to her apartment every couple of days, maybe to replace towels, refill things in the kitchenette, change the bedding and general cleaning up. This was like being in a hotel as it was essentially a serviced apartment, but Amelia wondered if Leticia was actually sent to check on her. After all, she did have the job of taking her to and from the library and office, so it was not unbelievable.

Usually, Amelia had breakfast in her own room. However, the kitchen downstairs was apparently not used much, as it seemed like only she and Leticia actually made use of it. She was having breakfast there today in fact, and might get some clues out of Leticia.

"Is Mr LaCroix out today?" Amelia said after eating a piece of scrambled egg on toast.

"I believe so," Leticia answered, somewhat absentmindedly.

"I'd have thought he'd still be sleeping. It is early morning after all," Amelia laughed.

Slightly flustered, "no. He's-he's not here."

"Ok," Amelia brushed it off. "I just have never seen much of him, and when I have, it's at night. In fact, I was starting to wonder if he sleeps in the day," she joked, interested in what reaction it might provoke. Leticia didn't blink for a moment, and Amelia then lightened the mood, "but hey, there's a lot of people like that. Sometimes, I'd rather do that actually. I'm more awake at night."

"Yeah…"

"How long have you worked for him by the way," Amelia said casually, putting down her coffee cup.

"Oh, a few years."

"How do you find it?"

"He is… a good employer. I mean, it's like anything else. Sure, he can be quite demanding, but that's not unusual. I've known worse."

Amelia smiled. "You know, Mercurio told me almost the same thing."

"Yeah. He's reasonable enough pays well, and all that. Mercurio and I don't see much of him anyway, except briefly." Leticia looked up from her own coffee cup. "Actually, he's spoken to you quite a few times and you've been here a while, so must have your own idea of him."

"Well, I find him affable enough. He's been gracious to me when we've spoken. I suppose he is rather exacting, but I don't think unreasonable," Amelia paused the take a sip of water. "The only thing is…"

"Yeah?" Leticia cocked her head, watching her.

"There's something about him. Can't put my finger on it, but it intrigues me. Do you," she looked at Leticia speculatively, "know what I mean? But it's probably nothing," she shook her head.

Leticia looked as if she was thinking about something.

Amelia glanced at her watch, "oh, I have to go soon. I need to be there for 9:30."

"Oh, yes," Leticia woke up from her thoughts, "don't worry about this. I'll sort it," she told Amelia who was about to help clean up. "Our driver will pick you up to take you. I'll let him know."

Amelia had just finished at the lecture and practical seminar she had been attending most of the day. It was late afternoon, and she went into the collections at Columbia University library as she had some hours to kill, and might as well see what related to her recent experiences with Sebastian LaCroix.

There were many works of fiction in the literature section on vampires, many of which were the usual suspects, but some rarer and less well-known too. Related to those, were several critical academic work, print copies of journal articles, microfilms. But, what she was looking for was work on real experiences and phenomena, such as folklore and demonology. There were Montague Summers' extensive but rather eccentric 1920s tomes on vampires (and werewolves and witches). These Amelia had read before - the book she had taken out at Pratt Institute Library had been one of his. Summers was well known in both academic history and literary studies as his research was detailed. But, his genuine belief in vampires made him something of a curious and charming oddity, despite his scholarly learning. He was responsible for the first English translation of the infamous Malleus Maleficarum, and in his preface seemed to believe in witches and the method of dealing with them. In his opinion, "in all the darkest pages in the malign supernatural, there is no more terrible tradition than that of a vampire - a pariah even among demons."

There were some 17th and 18th-century treatise extracts, detailing with strange grave phenomena, such as corpses in good condition with blood about the mouths. Demonology work suggested that demons could possess the bodies of the dead and do their work through them. The most detailed was a 1751 treatise by the French theologian Dom Augustine Calmet, which had much research and judicial reports. However, others suggested doubts about their existence. Pope Benedict XIV opined that all the phenomena attributed to vampires were 'natural or the fruit of imagination, terror and fear'. Likewise, Empress Maria Theresa of Austria passed laws prohibiting the opening of graves and desecration of bodies to end the mid-1700s vampire panic, following investigations which concluded that vampires did not exist. After this it seemed the vampire became an artistic and literary motif, seldom believed reality to be feared. A result of Enlightenment rationalism. Disenchantment - a decline of religion and belief in the supernatural.

Most of the folklore vampire stories related to beliefs in remote villages, with peasants and probable misunderstandings of contagion and the process of decomposition, as suggested in Paul Barber's Vampires, Burial and Death: Folklore and Reality . There was nothing resembling anything like Sebastian LaCroix. Only fictional portrayals of vampires as fascinating but malevolent noblemen came close, and Amelia did feel that she had stumbled into a gothic novel.. but that was silly. Not to mention there were so many variations in signs of vampires, and many of them were utterly absurd. Methods of repelling them varied too, some quite amusing, but others very disturbing. Staking was an ancient burial practice intended to pin down corpses to prevent them from rising, and observed in many archeological digs; not just associated with vampire lore. That wouldn't work alone - decapitation and burning were the surest ways... But this was all very ghoulish.

So, she was inclined to give up on this research. She closed the book with a sigh and put it on a pile with the rest.

As she was clearing up, she glanced up for a moment. For a split second, a dark figure, probably a man, was watching her from around the corner of a large bookshelf. When she looked again, there was nothing there. Perhaps a trick of the light. But it was a little disconcerting. She looked at the time - 5:30pm. And still daylight.

Since her mind was on edge with a suspicion that her employer Sebastian LaCroix might be a vampire, it was not too much of a stretch for her to worry about him discovering her little research excursion. But, if her suspicion was true, he may not even be awake yet, and perhaps couldn't be out in the day.

Still, she felt uneasy and would go soon. She was feeling slightly ill, faint. But then she'd be back at his house again, so maybe would stay out for as long as possible. Yet Sebastian LaCroix hadn't done anything bad to her, had he? She seemed perfectly safe, comfortable and well provided for. Perhaps there was nothing to fear. It might all be in her head, like Henry James' novella The Turn of the Screw , in which the 'strange and sinister were embroidered amongst the normal and easy'; there was uncertainty where reality ended and delusion began; whether its gothic heroine was going mad, or possessed of keen perception to the supernatural.

Packing up, she pushed a book back into place on a shelf.

"That is rather morbid reading for a young lady," a voice behind her, looking over her desk. A man, perhaps in his forties, he had a grave face and seemed as if he'd suffered hardship; seen disturbing things. In the dim light, it was hard to see, but it looked like his face was scarred. He wore what looked like a leather trench-coat, rather martial. He too was looking at this section of books. "What makes you read those?"

"Oh, no reason really," she clutched her notebook closer to her chest. "It is an interesting subject."

"Certainly," he said gravely. He was not American. There was a hint of a German accent to the way he spoke English. "But it is not typical you know."

"Well, I've always had a feeling for strange things," she said cautiously.

"As do I," he said mysteriously, "But, take care. Curiosity opens doors for darkness to work upon the unaware."

"Um… ok," she looked confused and weirded out. "I was just reading. That's all."

"Are you sure?" The man eyed her as if looking for a sign; a symptom of something.

This made her uneasy. Most people took reading these subjects as just eccentricity, but he took it seriously. To lighten the mood she giggled, "oh, you don't believe in all this, do you? It's just folklore, myths, unscientific beliefs."

"So they say," His tone became irritated. "But there is wisdom in this old knowledge, unfashionable as it is in this Godless age." His accent seemed to come out stronger than. "You should take my words more seriously, young lady. There are things more real than you know. These fiends," he was indignant, but lowered his voice, "Something vexes you. Tell me -"

"No-no, I'm fine," she backed away. Is this guy something to do with LaCroix? Or, some kind of Van Helsing wannabe? Whoever he is, I can't talk about what I suspect to anyone. What if all this is a misunderstanding and LaCroix is not a vampire at all? That's still possible, and so I can't indulge crazies like this.

"Are you sure? If you are scared of speaking openly it is inappropriate here, yes. But you are not the only person to perceive strange unexplainable things," he said in a hushed but insistent tone, and he looked around furtively to see that no one observed. "If it is not too late… If you need help-"

"I'm ok." Amelia picked up her bag off the desk. Ready to leave. This man was very strange. Possibly a fanatic. But it freaked her out that someone believed vampires were to be taken seriously. And deep down knew that he spoke the truth. "But, um, thanks."

"May God protect you then." He wrote something on a scrap of paper and placed something within it. "Take this, should you change your mind."

She took the paper and pushed it into her bag. Then continued walking head down at a swift pace. Glancing behind her, she could see the man standing where she had left him but soon he was gone.

The chauffeured car was waiting for her nearby. Before getting in, Amelia looked round subtly but pensively as she worried if he was following her. But there was no sign of him. She got into the car and put on the seatbelt.

"How was your day?" the driver asked her. When he dropped her off this morning, she had been excited and talked to him about it on the way. Now, her mind was on other things.

"Oh, yeah, it was good. Interesting. But I'm kind of tired now, actually."

"It's been a long day."

"Yes, it has," Amelia looked out of the darkened windows, at the rain hitting the sidewalk. What if that weird man was spying on her? She didn't trust enough to divulge her fears, even to someone that might believe it while most would laugh. She opened the folded paper he had given her, expecting a phone number or address, but it wasn't either. Just the name of bookstore, which she had heard of, but never visited. It was an occult bookstore; quite obscure and difficult to find. Maybe it was a front for something. Perhaps, this was a breadcrumb trail. She'd have to figure it out.

Soon, she'd be back again in the house of Sebastian LaCroix. The night was soon approaching. She felt she had not learned much that could provide a conclusive answer, nor help her in escaping the situation if it was truly as she feared. Yet, still, she was not definitively sure about LaCroix, because she clung to the idea that there had to be evidence and hard facts. Even though her intuition gave her a deep feeling of certainty that he was not exactly human and not quite alive.

Author Note: Chapter 6 is on the way soon. The material for chapter 5 and 6 reached 10,000 words, so i've split it up into two chapters. Will be quite dramatic, so stayed tuned :)