Kerry scrambled to her feet, a thrill of panic racing through her. "I, ah…Who are you?" She tried to surreptitiously retreat as he closed the space between them, but the couch blocked her escape.

"No, the important question right now is: who are you? I didn't know Michel had a guest." The way he emphasized 'guest' made it a mockery. "No, please, don't go." Kerry froze. "Stay, and let's get better acquainted." He had a tall and rangy build and big hands with thick knuckles; hands that looked like they do some serious damage. His hair was an indeterminate shade between blonde and brown and was cut very short, giving him a vaguely militaristic look. An impression furthered by heavy boots and a long black trench coat.

"Really, I should go- oh, look at the time, it's later than I…" she trailed off; the vampire- and there was no doubt in her mind that he was a vampire- was looking at her in a way that stopped her words and chilled her blood.

"Do you know what I am?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

There wasn't a good way to answer that question. "Er, a very nice man?" He took a sudden step toward her; she automatically flinched back, and then realized she'd given herself away.

"You do know what I am, what Michel is." Though he didn't make another immediate move toward her, she knew she was walking on the edge of a knife. Violence hung about him like stench on rotting meat. She didn't answer; it wasn't a question and there wasn't much point in trying to protest. Instead, she sank back down on the couch, trying to take up as little room as possible. He turned and strode away from her, walking the length of the room impatiently. She took this opportunity to examine her nails. She'd quit biting them in high school, but she was feeling the very strong urge to pick the habit back up.

"Hey, it's me." She looked up, startled, and then saw that he had a cell phone out. She couldn't hear what the other person was saying from where she was sitting. "Yeah, I'm there now." He looked over his should at her, faint disgust on his features. "He's not here, but there might be a slight problem." That had to be her; she wasn't sure if she should be offended or relieved that she was rated a 'slight problem.' "No, I'm taking care of it." There was a long pause while he listened. "Okay. See you then." He hung up, slipping the phone back in the pocket of his trench coat. "You still haven't told me your name."

"I'm Jessie Grantham." Jessie was her college roommate and the first name that came to mind after her own.

He nodded somewhat absently, focusing instead on the purse she'd left lying on the coffee table. Before she had a chance to object, he'd picked it up, quickly finding her wallet. He examined her driver's license carefully, before putting it back in her wallet and setting her purse down. "You're not a very good liar."

She swallowed hard. "I know. Just thought I'd give it a try."

"Bad idea." She nodded mutely, but he'd turned, getting out his cell phone again and rapidly dialing a number. This time, however, eavesdropping told her nothing. He spoke in hurried German and Kerry's German was limited to guten tag and schadenfreude. All she caught was her and Michel's name…and her own. This conversation lasted longer; the vampire slowly paced around the room, ignoring Kerry completely. She considered her options: wait to be killed or try to run and die faster. For the umpteenth time she wondered how she managed to get in messes like this. The back door was through the kitchen and she was willing to bet that it was locked as well; the front door was nearer and the deadbolt didn't require a key from this side. The only difficulty would be getting past the vampire. Well, no problem there.

She needed a weapon. Unfortunately, there were no decorative swords hanging over the mantle, and she very much doubted her ability to break off a chair leg for a club. Maybe she could break a lamp over his head. An abstract glass sculpture sat on the end table next to the couch; she hoped that it was as heavy as it was ugly. Inching a hand out, she let it oh-so-casually come to rest next to the sculpture. But either he was cleverer than she'd estimated or she was more obvious than she'd meant to be, because without even a pause in his conversation, the vampire absently moved the sculpture from the end table to coffee table when she'd have to make more of an effort to get to it. Arms crossed, she slumped back into the couch defeated.

The vampire snapped his phone shut and set his hands on his hips, looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and anger. "I don't suppose I need to tell you that I can inflict rather a lot of pain on your person. You really don't want to make this more difficult for-" The vampire paused, head cocked to the side, listening. Kerry listened hard but heard nothing, starting when a second later the door swung open and Michel entered looking as breathless as a vampire could. She jumped to her feet. Nobody moved, each considering this new development.

Finally the strange vampire said, "Well? I'm sure you have an excellent explanation."

"Richard." Michel's face was neutral, but Kerry could tell by the slight tightening of his jaw that he didn't like Richard. He deliberately shut the door behind him. "I don't owe you an explanation. In fact, I think it's rather the other way 'round. What are you doing in my house? I don't recall issuing an invitation."

Richard crossed his arms over his chest, looking slightly belligerent. "I was waiting for you. To see how it'd gone. I do assume you haven't forgotten all your obligations." Michel inclined his head once to acknowledge that 'it' had gone well. "And here I find a human with privileged information. I trust that you were going to take care of this?" Kerry kept trying to catch Michel's eye but he steadfastly refused to look at her. It was like she wasn't even there.

"I know what is required."

Richard sneered. "I don't know that you're prepared to do what is necessary. Perhaps I should-"

"You should leave well enough alone," Michel hissed. "I am not some moron fledge, Richard. I know what I am doing."

"Will they-" For the first time Richard glanced at Kerry, then amended what he'd be saying to, "Will it be seen that way?"

"Not for you to say."

"There are only two choices here, Michel," Richard sounded annoyed. "You've compromised us. The girl needs to be taken care of one way or another. If you're not going to turn her than end it. Anyway, quit fucking around."

For a moment the two vampires glared at each other, the tension so thick that Kerry was sure they would attack. Finally though, Michel looked away. Now he turned to her. "You're not going to leave this room alive, one way or another. But you do have a choice." Michel tone was soft but dangerous. "Do you understand, Kerry?" Die or become a vampire, she heard it as clearly as if he'd said it aloud.

She nodded, and when she trusted her voice answered. "Yes." She thought about the decision she'd made all those years ago, and had wondered if she'd made the right choice hundreds of times. It had taken her years to realize just what she'd given up. And even more years to realize what she'd gained. Could she make the same decision again? Death was much realer now than it had been at sixteen. To be immortal, to quit fighting the losing battle against age was unbelievably seductive. And then there was Michel. She hadn't been lying when she'd so clumsily confessed her love.

But could she kill; sacrifice others for her own immortality? Leave her family and friends?

"No. I could never be a vampire." Michel took a step towards her.

"Think, Kerry. This is not an idle threat." She didn't need the warning- Michel wasn't an idle threat kind of guy.

She thought about it. She didn't want to die, had never been the melancholy type with a romantic view of death. But being killing by Michel wasn't such a bad way to go, really. Better than most ways she could think of- cancer, car accidents, or being mown over by a dump-truck, which she'd always secretly feared would be her fate.

"Yeah, I know." An odd calm stole over her, making her feel numb and distant.

Michel stood before her, dark hair falling in his pale eyes, looking more like a model in a perfume ad than a predator. For a long moment they stood, each regarding the other. It must have been longer than it felt for suddenly Richard stepped forward.

"I can…" he started, seemingly reluctant to interrupt- more for Michel's sake than hers, Kerry thought wryly.

"No." Michel's voice rose for the first time. "No. She's my responsibility." Another step and they were inches apart. "I'm sorry, Kerry. I do wish it could have been different. I never meant you harm." She couldn't think of a reply that wasn't insincere or ridiculous, so she nodded once instead. It was a relief to be back in his arms, and she felt shame that she was going to lay down and die. But the most she could muster was resignation and a wistful desire to have spent more time doing what she'd wanted and less time behaving.

She leaned into him, welcoming the touch of his hand on the small of her back, the touch of his lips on her neck. She waited for the momentary sharpness. It didn't come. She hoped he hadn't decided to resort to one of the more mundane methods of execution.

Suddenly he shoved her hard; taken completely by surprise she staggered back, stumbled over the coffee table and landed on the sofa with a loud 'omff.' With speed that Kerry could hardly follow, Michel drew a gun she hadn't known he was carrying and fired. Kerry flinched, but he wasn't aiming at her. Richard had started to move as soon as Michel'd pushed her and was almost upon him. The shots caught him in the chest, each a small explosion of blood; he staggered, momentum carried him forward two more steps and he collapsed facedown. Calmly Michel looked down at Richard's bleeding form, aimed, and fired, hitting Richard in the back of the head. There was more blood than in the movies, but the worst was the scent of blood and raw meat. Kerry held her breath, which was the only thing preventing her from screaming. With measured movements Michel clicked the safety on and placed the gun back in its holster.

He turned to her, glancing over her as if to check that she were all in one piece. "What happened while I was gone? Did anyone else come over?"

She kept her eyes on his face, desperately trying to avoid looking at the dead vampire. She managed to shake her head 'no'. "But he made a phone call." She swallowed hard, her throat felt like sandpaper. "It was short, um, he said that you'd created a problem, but that he was going to look into it."

He nodded, unsurprised. "Did he mention you?"

"Not then, but he made another call, and he'd gone through my purse. That one I didn't understand; it was in German," she explained. "I'm pretty sure I caught both our names though." Michel rolled the body over, going through the pockets until he produced Richard's cell phone. He looked up the history and studied the numbers without indicating whether or not he recognized them. He looked up, from his expression Kerry knew she wouldn't like whatever he was about to say.

"Alright." He offered her a hand up, she took it, unsure if her trembling legs would hold her. "Under the sink in the kitchen you'll find a bucket, hydrogen peroxide, gloves and some rags. Mix up a solution two parts cold war to one part peroxide and bring it here, would you?"

She nodded glad to have a reason to leave the room and the body. At the door she stopped, "Michel." He was surveying the body with the same expression she normally reserved for a sinkful of dirty dishes.

"Yes?"

"Why?"

He looked at her and gave a slight shrug. "Why not? Now, please hurry. I don't want these stains to set. Any major stains and I won't get my deposit back."

It took her a while to get the mixture prepared. The first time she tried it, she was immediately and violently sick and had to dump it out. She was sick another two time before she finished. The last time was just dry heaves, her stomach completely emptied of pizza. When she finally returned, Michel had the body in a makeshift body-bag of industrial garbage bags and duct tape. She set to work cleaning up the blood pooled and already drying, momentarily glad that Michel had austere parquet and not carpet. It took another two buckets for the floor and one for the furniture and walls where they'd been splattered. Michel showed her the best way to remove the blood from the upholstery. She didn't want to think about how much practice he'd had. By they time they were done her knees ached and her fingers were pruned. The room would never pass a forensic examination but if she hadn't known, she'd have never guessed that a gristly murder had just taken place.

They took turns showering to wash the blood off. There was no saving her clothing; Michel gave her a dark blue dress shirt (did he wear anything else?) and a pair of jeans. She could get them over her hips, but only just, and she had to roll the cuffs, but anything was better than her blood-soaked skirt. None of his shoes would come close to fitting her and she was afraid he'd make her go barefoot, but after he thoroughly washed them he let her have them. Damp shoes were better than no shoes.

"Don't worry. We'll get you some more things soon."

"We're not getting my stuff?" she asked tiredly, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. The bedroom was dark, illuminated by the light from the bathroom fixture.

"Nope," he said, busy packing a duffel bag with clothes, a few toiletries and tools.

"What exactly are we doing?"

"Disappearing." She shuddered as he sighted down a gun- a different one from the one he'd used earlier, that one had gone in another trash bag with the bloody clothes.

"I can't disappear, Michel. My husband will think I've run off with another man."

"You are." He said sparing a smirking glance in her direction. "Besides, you don't really have a choice- you can disappear or you can be made to disappear." He handed her the duffel. "Here, take this out to the car, please."

They got the body into the car with relative ease, well, he did while she stood watch, a job which mostly entailed avoiding looking at the bulky garbage bag and not thinking about what it contained. Michel locked the door to his flat, left a message for his land lady saying a family emergency had come up and he'd be out of town for a couple of months and oh, could she water his plants?

He drove to the poor part of town, the part where cabs didn't stop and gunfire was common place. He pulled the car behind an old meat packing plant; accumulated garbage was piled high against its back wall. Even in the car, the scent was overwhelming. Kerry didn't object when he told her to wait in the car. In short order, he'd buried the body deep in the refuse.

"What will they think when they find him?" she asked when he'd gotten back in the car. He'd still managed to keep his shirt clean.

"That won't be for months, if not longer. At that point I don't care."

"But won't he be all…crispy?" Kerry said, wondering what they would make of a body that blackened and burnt in the sun.

"Oh," he said. "No. The body is now just that, he'll decay naturally. He'll be just another gun statistic and I know they don't have his dental records."

Their next stop was a seedy garage, unmarked except for the graffiti. She stood by silently as Michel traded in his sports car and a generous wad of cash for a navy Toyota Camry. Michel transferred the duffel and trash bag of clothing and they were off again. Kerry looked at her watch; they were less than an hour away from sunrise. But surely Michel knew that. They made it to a slightly less lethal part of town, before he pulled into a 7-11. He filled the tank, then ran in to pay, returning with a US road map and a ginormous cup of coffee, one that would mean about eight trips to the bathroom were it to be consumed.

"For you," he explained, handing her coffee, she accepted skeptically. "They're coming for us, Kerry. Our one advantage is the sunlight. If you start driving now you can beat rush hour traffic out of Los Angeles. Then take the interstate northeast. The exact route you use doesn't matter so much as long as you don't stay any one place more than a few hours and avoid talking to people. Stop and nap if you have to. There's a couple thousand in the glove compartment if you need anything.

"Where are you going to be?" Her voice was sharp with panic at the thought of fleeing by herself.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, a gesture she was coming to recognize as habit. "In the trunk."

She blinked, trying to process that and finally sighed. "Wouldn't it be easier to fly?" The sky was becoming dangerously pink

"Commercial airlines aren't exactly accommodating for people with my condition." Oh, right. Duh. "And chartered planes, though more flexible, are easier to track, if you have access to the flight records. Besides, we don't have a particular destination. The point right now is to keep moving. Okay?" But he didn't give her much of a chance to answer, popping the trunk. He tossed her the keys. "Just keep going." He flashed a reassuring smile. "And please- remember to let me out after sunset, not before. These older models don't have releases on the inside." With that he was in the trunk, the door closing quickly behind him, leaving Kerry there staring as if he were going to spring back out like a jack-in-the-box. Then, before she could have a chance to reconsider, she got in the car and pulled onto the road.