Finyda: Hello new reviewer! I don't mean the plot line to get so twisted, but I don't like it when I read fanfics and I could see where it's heading, so I try to shake it up for my readers. Kewl, I love having rabid fans (well, not that "rabid" part especially, but I like having fans, but it's not bad being a rabid fan but…well, any ways) And I guess what would be a normal occurance for most soul mates (what's in a kiss, after all) is tremendously sweet after they've hated each other for so long. Any way, I hope I didn't make you wait too long. Thanks again for the review!

Person with no name: Wow, I haven't had a person with no name for a long time. Congrats on being one of the few. Any way, I guess mush IS weird considering who's sharing it, but I also liked the bit about Ky's boxers. Thank you for the brilliant comment.

World weary traveler: Yup, this one was much better than the last one. And I think Thierry has the right to be as mean as possible. But as we always know, Thierry's super nice.

Martha: They are always confused. I get the blankest stares when I try to explain that you can't wear black shoes with a brown belt. And I think this update was medium soonish. Or maybe just average…ish. Thanks for the review.

More than u know: I'm glad I updated too, sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get around to it. and I'm also glad you wanna know what happens next, because if you didn't, that would be sad. So here ya go.

Oli: Hi Oli Girl!! Yeah, I figured that all soul mates need some bit of mushiness, no matter how screwed up the relationship. I think Rita has had enough of jealousy—well, technically it was Gitana, but I feel sorry for the girl. Besides, I'm convinced that Adrian's an utter ass and deserves some jealousy time. And I don't know why you told me that either, but it was interesting. I had no idea Australia was trying to take over the world. Looky I learned something today!

Random Writer: Yeah well, I just couldn't think of a title. There's nothing else vital after "vital somethingelses." I'm sorry if the updates don't come as much as they should, but I'll try. Thanx!

Alocin: For clarification purposes, she's an almost vampire. But, hey, good enough right? I'm glad I'm making interesting chapters, and not just filler chapters. Thanks for your review!

General note: Just a little warning. I thought this chapter was a bit too short, so there's more talk.

Vague Verity

Chapter 19

"Why was I to see when

~*~*~*~

Kyros searched for a subject, exhausted. With his dangling legs, he had managed to wrap them around a pillar and drag it closer to him. The drapes and accents that hung on it laid broken on the ground. Then, with an even greater, Herculean effort, he pushed it towards Winnie for her to stand on, and ease the ache in her arms. The tricky part was moving it in her direction without it crashing on her.

And for his gallantry, Winnie rewarded him with a fighting free conversation of any topic he chose.

"Winnie," he started in a pitifully childish tone. The witch tensed, knowing something fairly irritating would fly out of his mouth.

"What?"

"Do you lo-ove me?"

"Oh for goddess' sake," she began, exasperated.

"But do you?" he wheedled, barely containing his laughter. It was fun, Kyros learned, flirting like this, a safe distance away from her slapping hands and sharp nails. "Like, more than a friend? Like, you want to tie me in your bed and buy costumes—"

"Kyros, shut the hell up."

"Why? Am I getting you hot and bothered? Are you straining against the chains? Come to think of it, I've always figured you as a dominatrix-y sort of girl—"

"Kyros!"

"Yes or no babe."

"No," she stated firmly. "No, no, and no. No."

"I'll take that as a yes," her partner replied cheerfully.

"New topic, Snow, or no talking at all," Arlin ordered.

"Fine," he sighed. "Of all the super heroes, who is most likely to die of an STD?"

The witch rolled her eyes. Of all things to think about… "Batman and Robin."

"Hey, don't you dare start that again. They're not gay, I tell you, they're not!"

"Fine, fine…Flash."

"Why Flash?"

"First of all," Winnie began, internally laughing at her serious tone, "he hits on every girl he meets. And his name is Flash, for Goddess' sake. He's either gay or exposes himself."

"Yeah, but he's super fast. So freakin' fast he probably leaves the chick (and just chicks) before all the cooties could get him."

"My Goddess, you're a sensible one," she commented dryly. Kyros beamed happily. "Well, then, Kyros, who's most likely to die?"

"James Bond."

"He's not a super hero!"

A new voice contradicted her. "He's worked for fifty years and manages to get all the women…I'd call that an inhuman feat." The pair stared, jaws dropped, as the man came closer.

"Winnie," he whispered. "Just me, or does that hallucination look a lot like our boss?"

"Is it possible to hallucinate the same person?" she returned. Neither was sure who would be harsher: the female tormentor, or Thierry. The former hadn't carried such a murderous gaze like the Elder did now.

"How long has it been since we've eaten?" Kyros asked quietly. It had to be a hallucination, because the vampire remained totally silent. Starvation must have done it.

"This morning." All right, so that wasn't it.

"I don't even know where to begin," Thierry snarled, startling them both. "Assault on fellow Daybreakers at my hangar, larceny, with holding valuable information, a mission without approval…what the hell were you thinking?" Thierry stared at Winnie. The witch bit her lip, and then turned to Kyros.

Apparently he was the one with all the answers; Kyros tried to live up to the expectation. The Arctic fox looked at them and shrugged.

"Um…Hakuna Matata?" Kyros was surprised Thierry didn't spontaneously combust. Certainly quaked like a ticking time bomb.

"What?"

"It means no worries—"

Winnie wondered what exactly happened when the men stopped studying each other and looked expectantly to the door.

"Quick," Kyros whispered. Thierry didn't look at them. "Hey, Hallucination, pay attention!" Now Thierry whirled to him, irked. "You don't have enough time to get both of us out. Go out that other door and look for something to break these chains."

"You want me to hide?" Thierry asked, pride wounded. "I don't need to hide. I've never hidden."

"Now's not the time to prove who has more testosterone," Winnie interrupted nervously. Now, she heard the foot steps too. "Just go, Thierry, and find something iron. There was a battle ax on the second level of the basement. You'll see runes on the handle. Go get it."

"I can't believe I flew a thousand miles for a funeral and then to be bossed around by my own employees."

"Thierry!" Winnie exclaimed, panicked. She stomped her foot on the pillar. "Just go!"

~*~*~*~

He had managed to persuade her to slow walk after she retrieved his shirt. In the short time he had known her—or, at least, this version of her—Adrian learned that once Verity made up her mind to do something, she did it with little desire to look back. He had every intent of protecting her, however, vampire or no, once they reached his abode.

"Are you cold?" he asked, for the wind filled silence irked him. She did not turn to him and simply shook her head. Rita looked very much like she did when they first met, in that idiotic school. Her hair tied up in a bun, and what little skin that showed had been scrubbed clean, so that she was cold yet still rosy. A minor quibble took place concerning her wardrobe. Verity, of course, had preferred Kyros' oversized clothing over Winnie's form fitting outfits. The baggy white sweats provided more heat, but the sensible fact could not keep a frown from Adrian's face.

"Why are you frowning?" she asked, turning to him as they crunched through the snow. "Is it still the sweats? You know I can't fit in Winnie's pants," Rita pointed out reasonably. Adrian noticed a cheerful note tainted her words, and recognized it immediately. She was happy to have some purpose again, instead of wandering the world aimlessly or rotting in a dungeon. Privately, he thought it fairly naïve of her to find a rescue mission exciting, but for once in his life, Adrian Amaro stifled his urge to scold her. "Adrian!" she snapped.

He realized he had been staring without listening, and tilted his head politely. "Yes?"

"I was saying…oh never mind. The short version is I'm right, you're wrong, and besides, Kyros' clothes smell better."

Which made Adrian bite back even more words. How was it that a shifter could possibly smell better than a dragon? He wondered.

"How do we go about it?" she asked. "Rescuing somebody?"

He shrugged as he guided her along a slippery slope. "I suppose we'll have to do everything quickly. To rescue somebody after they've died is a bit redundant, don't you think?" For once, she agreed with him.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked worriedly as the distant chateau loomed closer.

"Rescue somebody?" It took some minutes for him to respond. "Well…not successfully. But this time, I will."

"And what makes you so sure?" she asked, still openly concerned. Adrian looked down at her and observed her wide, green eyes, now not hidden behind black frames. Verity Glisscielle was always certain, as far as he knew, and usually did not depend on other's opinions.

"Because I have an almost-vampire with me," he said gallantly. Verity rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself. Her shoulders relaxed suddenly, as if his confidence had given her some. Adrian's lips widened to a grin, but then stopped short. Was she happy of the prospect of their successful rescue, or the wasted preservation of that idiot fox?

Verity carelessly glanced at her soul mate—for, it was a careless glance, and definitely not one of concern for his well being—and saw his inexplicably dark expression. Fearing that her distrust in the whole scheme had spread to him, she impulsively captured his unnaturally cold hand with her sleeve covered fingers.

Now, both were content and neither quite knew why. They treaded some more in silence, until Adrian, who now decided silences between soul mates were the second worst things in the world—the first worst things being fox shifters—spoke again.

"Did it fix us?" His hand tightened in case his abrupt question startled her into pulling away.

Verity chewed on her lip for a few minutes, unsure whether to feign ignorance or lie. Both options were cowardly, and left the third. "A little," she spoke tightly, embarrassed with the truth. Rita turned away to view the barren wilderness, but not swiftly enough that he could not spy the blush rising to her cheeks. "But we're not…" To say "fixed," or "fully repaired" sounded utterly ridiculous to even her own ears. This was tender relationship, she reasoned to herself, not a rusty automobile. So, unable to find the correct term, she allowed her words to trail off in the wind.

"Of course," he agreed easily, still sounding irritatingly arrogant in his conviction. "We're not…whatever it's called…at the moment. But we will be." With a resigned sigh, Rita knew her soul mate would forever maintain a healthy opinion of himself. Oh well, she thought, it's better than being stuck with insecure pansy.

Verity decided it was time to change the subject, else her mind regressed Adrian to the ignorantly obnoxious man he once was. "Tell me why we're here," she demanded, startling her soul mate.

He stopped in his tracks and looked down at her. His sapphire eyes were strangely excited. "You don't want to rescue him either? Good, we can get off the island—"

"No," she corrected, flustered. "And it's not 'him,' it's 'them.' I meant to say was how did all this mess start? I only know what happened between Tana's death and your appearance in Anomina—and even that is still mysterious."

"Oh," he said to himself. Verity was slightly panicked to hear him disappointed, and wondered what she had done wrong. "Oh…well, this is my castle. Right, you knew that. Any way, it's very important to me and…"

"Shouldn't you start the beginning?"

"Okay," he said, mildly annoyed of being interrupted. "Right after the Colonies broke off from Brit for salutary neglect, I decided to buy some land on this island because—"

"Not that far back in the beginning," she interrupted again.

"Oh fine! I came to the Americas out of boredom, met Orin, had a card game, bastard cheated, and I lost the deed to this place."

"Well why didn't you just say so in the first place?" she asked in exasperation.

"I just did!" After a calming breath, Adrian continued. "I hardly cared for this lot or the palace until I remembered I had…er, certain treasures still in there. So, one thing led to another, and the only way to have the deed returned was a little…favor."

The last word was hesitantly said. "And that favor was?" Rita pushed, although she was fully aware of what the favor had been. Adrian glared at her and they stopped behind a particularly large snow dune.

"Don't judge, Miss High and Mighty," he warned. "It was very important to get that deed—"

"That stupid castle is worth the lives of hundreds of students?"

"Hell, Rita, we both know you didn't give a damn about those morons!"

His reply was presumptuous, ignorant, and…terribly similar to the truth. "That's not the point. The point is you have to reorganize your priorities if this—" she gestured from him to her "is going to work."

"Why do I have to change my priorities?"

Verity stared up at him wonderingly. "Because you're the most screwed up!" she blurted, and instantly regretted her words. But at least I was truthful.

"Aren't relationships supposed to be about compromise?" he pointed out snidely.

Now of all times he decided to suddenly know the secrets of a good marriage. Funny how those secrets slipped his mind during our marriage. "Oh, right," she said mockingly. "I'll lose my sense of common decency if you lose your habit of mass murders. Is that a fair trade?"

"I only had one attempted mass murder and your sense of 'common decency'" and he had the audacity to make air quotes with his fingers "has been sadly lacking these past few months." Like his counterpart, Adrian immediately rued his choice of words.

"In what possible way did you think saying that would have been a good thing?" she demanded heatedly.

"I…don't really know," he confessed, feeling foolish. "But, if it helps, I wish I hadn't tried to kill them all." He paused, pondering the situation as if pondering a math equation. "I should have just tortured Orin into telling me where he hid the deed, and then killed him. Your little friends shouldn't have gotten involved."

"And does guilt ever bother you?"

His expression abruptly became unreadable, and he shrugged casually. "Sometimes. I have ways to deal with it. But, Rita, you needn't go on. I understand; I should have killed just Orin, and left the student body alone."

Rita gazed at him helplessly. She didn't know how to explain to him that the very idea of murder was wrong, not the number involved. But she supposed his new confessions proved some progress on his part, and she reluctantly admitted that her behavior towards some, unnamed males had been less than perfect.

"Oh," he said again, this time with a cheerfully surprised note. "Okay. So…is this done?"

"This being…"

"This fight," he quickly clarified. "Is it over?"

"Goodness, you make it sound like a trip to the dentist. Yes, it's done. But, Adrian, you do realize this won't be our last, don't you?"

He made a frustrated snarl, and his eyes widened in shock. "Why not?!"

"Because!" Verity was surprised by his lack of knowledge. Then she remembered that her soul mate had experienced only two romantic relationships in his life time, and neither had ended very well. "Because two people, even soul mates, do not constantly frolic and kiss as if everything is all right. Now don't look at me like that. There will be some fights, Adrian, I'm sure about that."

"I never saw my parents fought," he persisted. His stubbornness drove her to a sharp tongue and little patience.

"Well, Adrian, I'm sure you've never seen them fool around either, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Adrian reeled back as if he had been struck. Then he looked as if he would vomit. "Aw, Rita, I did not need that image in my mind… Fuck, you didn't have say—damn. Damn, damn, damn." Then Rita wished she hadn't said anything at all, for now Adrian made movements of gouging his eyes out, which would have been a waste of lovely blue eyes.

"Change the subject?" she quickly proposed.

"Yes please," was the nauseated answer. For comfort, she grabbed his hand again and led him back to their original path.

"What did you mean 'attempted'? The children died, so it was successful." Adrian smiled inwardly, finding it amusing that, although she was a year younger than most of them, his soul mate considered the senior class mere 'children.'

The topic drew him away from his lurid thoughts, and Adrian explained it all with the tiniest of frowns.

The plan at the Soiree had been the glitter—her glitter. But nothing terribly magical. It appeared that, aside from irritating his soul mate, Adrian actually paid attention in Chemistry. After the confetti, coated with a specialized form of potassium, fell onto the humans, one of the Night World people were supposed to set off the fire sprinklers. Water and potassium bits were not good. And they were to watch as the innocents ran around, burning to death. Although she should have, Rita didn't scold him. Adrian looked sorry enough. But his next admission was enough to make her snap.

And he had managed it all by sneaking in the shadows and becoming things he was not. The idea provoked a question he should have feared.

Rita's steps slowed as realization quickened. "Who exactly did you become?" He made various evasive sounds, none of which were satisfactory. "This is not an optional question, Adrian Amaro. Who?"

"Ah…yourcatOpheliateachersandthat'saboutit."

The rushing of words hadn't worked before, and it would not work now. She stopped dead in her frozen tracks. Adrian, knowing another heated discussion was inevitable, led her behind a snow dune and waited for her to explode. He was not disappointed.

"My cat?" she shouted. The wind carried her voice away from the castle. "You mean I let you climb all over me and I rubbed your belly!?"

He couldn't really answer without smiling, so he shrugged and turned away. His soul mate hadn't stopped there.

"And Ophelia? I took boy advice from my soul mate?" He turned back to her, now unexpectedly serious.

"When I said that, I thought you were talking about me…Who were you talking about?"

"Bryan, of course!" Verity had tromped through the snow with her pacing but stopped in the shin deep tracks. Then she laughed softly. "And to think…you were the one who convinced me to try and like him." And it also meant she was never alone on Christmas or New Year's Eve. Verity felt terribly silly for wallowing in self pity on those days with Dog listening lazily. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a familiar frown pasted on his lips. "What now?"

"These recent conversations haven't exactly been pleasing," he retorted.

"But they're helpful," she argued.

"How, exactly? Every time we speak, I look like a criminal."

"Never mind the fact that you are a criminal. Er, just kidding," she added when the frown deepened. "Any way, they help because this way, we won't find out anything unpleasant later on when things are really nice between us."

"A clean slate." Adrian said the words thoughtfully, and then flashed her a blinding smile so dazzling she quite forgot the guilty expression in his eyes. Seeing that her tirade was dead and buried, Adrian grabbed her sleeve covered hand and tugged her to the castle doors. Actually, he made her wait outside while he went in by himself. After a few minutes and painful cries, he bade her to enter.

Rita cringed as the door shut loudly behind them. "Adrian!"

The dragon winced and propelled his soul mate further into the ante room. "Sorry about that." They crept to the door, and Verity waited until Adrian said all was clear. With his hand resting on her lower back, Verity felt oddly comforted and didn't mind the dimness of the great hall they stepped into. Nor was she greatly disturbed by the corpses, presumably the product of her soul mate's hands, that Adrian piloted her around. Evidently, Adrian had a thing for castles with immediate great halls.

She couldn't believe they just waltzed up to the front door. Well, she could—she just couldn't believe he had a key. For a place he claimed he never visited, the key was remarkably worn down and he seemed to remember where everything was. He told her, with absolute resolve, to leave the main floor to him. He would guide her upstairs, direct her to the safely hidden rooms, and then he'd check the main floor. He would leave her to investigate as she pleased, but under no circumstances whatsoever would she investigate the main floor.

Gently tugged along by Adrian's knowing hand, they silently hiked up the glittering, beautiful stair case to their right. She had whispered that she wanted to investigate the one to the left, because it was green, and no harm came from the color green, but he was adamant. Rita did not like the color of it; she was certain nothing good ever awaited at the top of a black stair case.

"Oh wonderful," she sighed, "it seems that we're always in the dark. I swear, if we live, my house will have the lights on twenty four-seven." Adrian handed her the lamp they had brought with them in case of void-of-light emergencies.

"It would be one hell of an electricity bill," he replied and checked one room. He waited until she finally figured out how to turn on the electric lamp before pulling her in.

"How can you let all of these go to waste?" she lamented quietly as he fingered the books. The library was enormous, and was so tall she had to tilt her head far back to see the top of the shelves. Rita suspected on every novel, satire, and drama laid an inch of dust, two inches minimum.

"Oh, don't be so sentimental; most are hollow." Verity stepped closer and saw him crouched in a corner, just behind an enormous globe. She crouched beside him, wondering what on earth was he staring at so intently.

"Hollow? Why?"

"For hidden documents, of course." She shook her head for the natural paranoia in her soul mate. He pushed a book, Morgenstern, and the entire two bottom shelves pulled back with it. Once they slid back wards, the hollow books shifted to the right and disappeared behind the others. "All right," he said, dusting his hands, "go in." Rita set down the lamp and peered in.

"Why is it that this grand castle only has special holes that my hips can't fit through?"

"Don't be silly, it's—" Adrian studied the secret opening again. "Right, sorry about that. I guess it's easier for three horn dragons to shift into smaller animals and crawl in. But, Rita, I guess you'll just have to—"

"Squeeze through," she sighed. It wasn't as narrow as it appeared, and Adrian helped her so that she slid down into the hidden room without a single scrape. "But, Adrian, what are the chances that Kyros and Winnie found this opening and went through?" she asked as he handed her the lamp.

"There are other ways to get in; they might have found it. Just be quiet."

"All right." Adrian smiled comfortingly as the books closed over her face. Verity found herself staring at darkness. The wall was blank, save the thin lines that showed the opening. She stood in a narrow hall, her head just inches away from the ceiling. Each end looked equally ominous. With a dismal sigh, she headed towards the right, and found a plethora of doors. All in different sizes, different colors, different styles. Rita paused in front of a large wooden one, that had two griffins emblazoned on it. With some heavy and determined tugs, it creaked open.

Much to her disappointment, there were no wild, mythological animals waiting inside. Instead it was a room full of weapons, and dusty weapons at that. All the sabers, axes, bows, and arrows appeared as if they hadn't been disturbed in centuries. There weren't even spiders or rats. Just silent nothingness.

Rita suspected Adrian placed her on this floor so as to get her out of the way. Why were people always suspecting she would be a nuisance? With a shrug, she moved to a glass case and pried it open. Though she hardly believed she needed a small dagger to fight the dust bunnies, to have some sort of defense was reassuring. She tucked the iron dagger in her back pocket and left the room.

As she wandered farther down the hall way, she thought of what they hadn't spoken about. Even now, at least an hour later, Rita blushed and her hands tingled from the mere memory of it. A kiss. It certainly complicated things, mostly because she had thought she hadn't wanted a relationship. Romantic relationships always caused so much problems she didn't know why people bothered with them. Of course, there were those moments where couples cuddled and kissed; but was the brief heaven worth the hell it caused?

She stumbled, lost in her thoughts, and almost fell down a flight of stairs. Verity reviewed their way up. One flight up led her here; another flight down would have led her down to the main floor. The forbidden floor. Her feet were stepping down even before she fully rationalized it.

Almost vampire, after all. Almost strong. She was sure she could handle whatever was down there. The stairwell only led to one hall way. And, at the end, there was only one door. Plain, white. Nothing special. But it was locked, unlike all the other doors. Why on earth would Adrian lock a closet? With the help of the slim iron dagger and all her weight, it swung open. Cheerfully, Verity picked up the lamp and crept in.

Just a room. A bedroom. With dingy, frescoed walls. And a full length oval shaped mirror, with a chair beside it. A black farthingale. A canopied bed, and a—

The lamp slipped from her fingers, landing loudly on its bottom.

Somebody lay in the bed. And next to her, a good luck faceless doll.

Verity took a few, fearful steps closer. It couldn't be her. She was dead. It couldn't be; there was no possible way.

She said so the indifferent, cold room. Tana was dead, for centuries. It could not be her.

There was a glass case over her former body. Verity mechanically turned back and picked up the lamp, and returned to the corpse.

Oh god. It was her.

Same dark, copper skin—now sort of yellowish. The fine eyebrows, the black crescent shapes of the eyelashes, the ridiculously petite body…the dainty little smile that defined Gitana Benevita Amaro.

"How could you?" she asked in a wounded voice. She wasn't speaking to Tana; that was impossible. To a soul mate who wasn't there. "How could you do this to me?"

It was a game of truths for god's sake. Truth; he sought it. But he didn't care enough to answer himself. The words echoed in her mind.

"You."

"Truly?"

"Without a question of a doubt."

Verity smiled at her stupidity. "Liar," she whispered, fingers running over the transparent coffin. Something dripped into the glass—goodness, tears. Now was not the time for tears. Her eyes didn't respond; just filling and refilling with the salty heartache. She kissed him, laughed with him, trusted him…

Her head snapped up when another door at the opposite wall clicked several times before swinging open.

"Speak of the devil," Rita murmured as her shocked soul mate walked into the room. Something like a diary in his hand.

Adrian stared at her. She looked so wistful, dusty hands soiling the coffin. And she cried, without shame or embarrassment. He knew that she knew. And yet, Verity said nothing.

"Rita, please," he pleaded when she looked back at the girl. "You don't understand…I had to save you. It hurt—seeing you in the fire. I didn't know it would hurt. Rita, please, look at me. I had to save you."

Rita said nothing; frozen in sadness as her soul mate crept closer.

"I couldn't bear to bury you—not after…I just couldn't bear it. Please, Rita—I never meant for you to find her…" He had come to fix things. He had told her to stay away until he made sure everything was all right. Until—until…"I was going to clean the slate," he tried to explain. The intensity of his pleading grew, for second by second Adrian could feel it all slipping away. The tender understanding woven between them now unraveled rapidly and without any hope of repair.

A salty pool grew on the case, just above the gypsy's chest. Her heart.

It hurt. It wasn't supposed to hurt. She didn't love him and he never loved her. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. Like dying.

"You don't understand. I never wanted to hurt you. I never thought I did…but I knew, when you blew a kiss at me…I changed you and I'm sorry. I've been sorry. Please Rita—please just listen to me!" No. This relationship was not slipping away. She was.

He had no right to raise his voice at her. No right at all. He took everything away—first Jorge, and then her chances of normalcy. If only he hadn't met her. If only he hadn't showed her what completion was… Then, without knowing, she could have been happy.

"I never wanted this," he desperately continued to explain. "But since you died, I wake up miserable. And I tuck it away, because I have no time for misery but when I can't tuck it away I come here. I see you. And you're smiling, and so at peace…and I feel better just being here beside you…please say you understand."

That selfish son of a bitch. Keeping her body here just for the sake of "feeling better." It was excruciating, but she refused to cringe. She refused to sob, or bawl, or fly at him in rage. Instead she remained turned away from him, hurting him with silence.

So this was what he meant by trying to rescue somebody, until too late.

"Verity, please… I'm sorry I lied. I didn't know I was lying until the dream. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" His mouth poured forth the words, but his mind didn't know why. Reason told him to stop. She would not forgive him so easily. If the situations were reversed, he would have hardly acknowledged her.

Now, of all times he said he was sorry. This was why she couldn't go in the main floor. This was why he wanted the deed so much. This was why he'd gaze at her sometimes with such longing—wishing she was her old self. It was too late to apologize, not after so many chances. She didn't give a damn if he was sorry.

He tenderly caught her hand.

Verity pulled back, disgust contorting her face. It wouldn't have been right, to free that radiance of their link in the blackest moment of her life. Rita stepped back, now parallel with the gypsy's face.

"Don't touch me," she said calmly.

Adrian stared at her helplessly. Oh no…now he was crying too. And he was just ashamed of the tears as she once was. How ironic that the only smiling person in the room was the dead one.

"Verity, please, I never meant to—"

"I hate you," Verity interrupted. Her voice a sweet whisper in the inky blackness. "Might as well have killed me, Adrian. It would have stung less…I truly, truly hate you."

He looked as if she had stabbed him. He stiffened as if the world was about to end. She had said so before, in anger, in Spanish, in her own memories…but never like this. Never so seriously.

"Don't say that," he pleaded quietly. Adrian stepped forward, and she evaded again. "Please, Verity, don't say that."

"But I can't help it," she wept. Absently, she wiped the tears away. "Oh, god, Adrian, I wish I didn't. But you made me."

"Please, querida, I—"

"No. I hate you." She bit her lip, and he knew whatever words came out would pain both of them. "And," she continued determinedly, "when I die, and when I'm reborn…don't come to me. Don't talk to me and don't ever remind me of you. God…I hate you so much I just want to…" She didn't know what she wanted. It ached to talk to him.

He hurt her again. After he was sorry, after everything, he still struck at her. It wasn't right. He was the villain and he wasn't allowed to succeed with that. So many times. So many times he won and bit at her soul and it wasn't fair.

"You don't understand!" she raged tearfully. Rita swiftly released the words, breathless and forceful at the same time. "But you should! You know what it's like to be tricked and abandoned and measured up to a standard you can't possibly reach and you still want me to forgive you! Why, Adrian? Why should I forgive you?"

He shook his head, unable to respond. Tears fell as he squeezed his eyes shut. He did understand. To have something so delicate…trust, or at least something like it…build up for so long. To have it ripped away, and then returned in terrible condition. To wish and wish to change and be something else for the sake of a loved one…

And never reach that goal.

"And what would you do if I did?" she asked, though her eyes were not on him. Eyes on it. "What would you do with my forgiveness? Treasure it? Hug me and lie to me and tell me that you love me?" She shook her head, seemingly scolding herself for fantasizing it. "It will you mean that you've won again. And everything you've won, you've defeated—" she caught herself and smiled wanly. The curve was not in her heart, but Rita felt the small gesture might have helped one of them. "And there are so few victories…I guess you must display them somehow." Verity shook her head again, so damn reasonably. "And I don't want to be put in a glass coffin."

The last words seared through him. That invisible knife in his heart was cruelly but necessarily twisted. "I'm sorry, Rita," he said thickly, backing away. Back into the shadows. "I truly am."

"I don't care any more, Adrian. I truly don't."

Distantly, she heard the door click several times again. For some reason she couldn't quite grasp, Adrian tried to grab her hand again. She pulled away, and with glassy eyes she watched him change into something very small and crawl under the bed. Then she turned back to Gitana. Tana had always been perfect, despite her childish ignorance. Perfect; and nobody could ever be like her. Not even her own soul.

Somebody roughly grabbed her arms, and twisted them back. A coarse rope began binding her wrists together. Blinking from her daze, Verity glanced around.

There was more light in the room. There were two muscled men, one of them tying her up. Somebody had to be the ring leader.

And then he stepped into the room. For the third time in one day, she felt frozen by shock. It wasn't possible…it could not be possible…

"Jared?"

The face rippled; Jared, Scott Buffington, then Ophelia, then Adrian and… and a stranger stepped into the room. "No…just felt like messing with your head. But, we have met before, haven't we?"

~*~*~*~

light could show me nothing sweet?"

Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

I'm such a hypocrite. I politely scold my fav authors for cliff hangers, but look what I go and do. Bad, shame on me. But, not too suspenseful, right?

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