Sophie licked her lips slowly, sensing how rigid her entire body had suddenly become, tension and pure will holding back every trembling nerve. It was not out of fear – she merely knew that, if she lost control of her body even for a fraction of a second, she would lunge. She was an animal ready to pounce, aware of every movement in her prey.

She could see through her large, glassy eyes that Howl was feeling the change in himself now, as well. He dropped his spoon to the table with a slight clatter, his lips parted as if in mid-sentence. When he raised his eyes to hers, they locked immediately, burning and melting and searing into each other's slightly frantic stare until she could see nothing else.

The rest happened in a horrible blur that Sophie, at the time, perceived as the most languid and delicious of dreams. Howl stood from the table so quickly that his chair toppled over behind him, and the loud noise startled Sophie. She stepped back, but a smile spread across her lips; the movement had excited her, thrill mixing beautifully with her brief shock. She watched, mesmerized, as he closed the meager distance between them.

Without the usual indolent politeness, the normal carelessness, he seized her around the waist with both of his hands, pulling her roughly close to him and pressing his cheek to her forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven. Sophie sighed, sucking in the air around her deeply – never had she been so conscious of Howl's rich, warm scent, never had the dark curtain of his hair hiding her face felt so silky, so heavenly – it was almost more than she could stand.

She moaned gently, wrapping her arms around his waist and arching her back in a smooth, cat-like motion, pushing her body against his chest.

"This is nice," she mumbled incoherently, sliding her fingernails against the smooth white fabric of his tunic, just barely scraping the skin underneath. "This is very, very nice … and Howl … you smell so good …"

He made a soft guttural sound in the back of his throat that Sophie took to be a positive reply, raising his right hand to trace her jaw. He bent down and kissed her so firmly, with so much passion and need and utter control that it was all she could do to clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, unspeakably frustrated at her inability to be closer.

He was taking her, finally, and without a word – she felt a surge in her body of both overwhelming relief and devastating desire, knowing she would, from this point on, not only fail to do a thing to stop him, but would give back everything he gave her with equal force. It was perfect, complete surrender.

Howl pulled away, his fingers tugging in frustration at her modest collar, which neatly circled the base of her throat in white lace. She barely had time to notice this problem before he had slipped his slender fingers inside it, and, without a moment's hesitation, pulled as hard as he could.

Sophie yelled as she was tugged forward, her head jolting back as the fabric ripped in one clean, straight line down her chest. She looked down, wide-eyed, at the large gap, which fell open to reveal the top of one side of her corset – and then closed them again in a blissful gasp as a sated Howl pressed his lips heavily onto her throat with warm, wet kisses that immediately cleared her mind of all surprise or protest.

She pressed her body against his once again, astonished, but delighted with the direction in which things seemed to be going. Howl made the gentle sound in his throat again, and pulled away for a moment, his breath hot against her skin.

"You're so soft," he sighed, and somehow, she knew at once exactly what he meant. She pushed herself against him again, lovingly and with inexplicable pride, wishing instantly that her corset wasn't wrapped so tightly around her, obscuring what she wanted so much to share.

But before she could contemplate this further, Howl had bent his head down again, and his warm lips were on her neck – and then, with no warning, he suddenly bit down hard in her soft skin.

Sophie screamed, shocked, curling her hands into fists where they were clamped onto the back of his tunic. The pain was sharp and extreme, especially in a place so delicate – but then, as she was still panting to regain her breath, he sucked deeply, slowly, on the fresh bruise. She whimpered as the pain washed away, replaced by a gentle throbbing and a tenderness that was warm, almost pleasant …

It was then, as this new feeling was washing over her, that she blinked. Suddenly, her eyes focused on the stairs beyond Howl's head, and her hands loosened their grip on his tunic. The entire world had crashed back in place, and it was eerily foreign, as if she had just reappeared in the room by magic.

She felt Howl's hand on her waist weaken, then fall away altogether. They stayed locked in each other's embrace for a long, awkward moment, neither quite remembering how they had gotten there, and finally, unable to bear it any longer, Sophie took a step back, keeping her dazed eyes on his face.

He had averted his eyes, and as she watched, he lifted his hands, palms facing upward, and stared at them intently, his parted lips sealing themselves into a grave frown. He turned his head toward the hearth, his pale face obscured by his curtain of raven hair.

For the first time, Sophie realized that Calcifer was there, his flames flickering nervously as he studied them. He turned his eyes meekly from Sophie, whom he gazed at in unmistakably guilt, then to Howl, at whose gaze he seemed to withdraw timidly into himself.

With a sudden burst of sparks, he turned back to Sophie, his great black mouth babbling uncontrollably.

"I stopped the spell, Sophie," he said wildly, spilling it all out as if to have her know the truth before Howl could get his hands on him. "I couldn't stand it any longer – he was hurting you! You screamed! Just look at your neck!"

Sophie stared at him blankly, not really recalling a scream, let alone pain or fear. She blinked several times and, convinced by his genuine concern, she raised her hand to her throat, letting her fingers brush against it apprehensively.

At first, she felt nothing – and then they brushed the mark, and she winced in pain. It was horribly tender, wet and hot and aching, and she pulled her hand away hurriedly, dropping it to her side and trying to think, desperately, what exactly had happened to her just moments before. Images and feelings and words were all jumbled horribly in her mind, and she could sort out nothing in the confusion to answer her questions.

She didn't have to wait long for an explanation. As soon as she raised her eyes, she saw that Howl was staring at her, his blue eyes unearthly wide and his expression frozen in a look of horror so strange on his usually carefree features that for a long moment, she simply stared back at him in frightened wonder.

He swallowed, making a vague gesture with his hand that meant nothing to her. He was ungodly pale, she noticed, and her first instinct was to care for him, to assure him, somehow, that this was over, and that they had made it through safely. She lifted her hand, reaching it out for him.

He followed it with his wide eyes, and it was then that Sophie saw it for herself. There was, staining the tips of her fingers, blood – enough blood that she gasped, holding it in the air in front of her as she stared at it, horrified, disgusted – and then, as if suddenly realizing the truth, she brushed them again against her neck and stared in shock at the fresh blood that appeared.

Unable to speak, she looked up at her husband, wanting for a moment just a single word that might comfort her, might make this, somehow, all right. But this was her grand mistake – as she looked at him desperately for aid, he parted his lips helplessly, and she saw, for the first time, that they were stained with smears of blood.

Sophie screamed, stepping back wildly into the table. It jolted, sending several dishes falling to the floor. They shattered around her feet, and all the time she hardly noticed, unable to tear her eyes away from the blood on his face, suddenly grasping frantically at her torn dress and using it to hide her exposed corset, stepping back again and again.

"You," she trembled, shouting it out in her shock, "You – you vampire!"

Howl stared back at her with silent lips that hung open in, if possible, more shock than her words could contain, and then, as if her accusation had brought him back to life, he spun around, storming to the hearth.

"You!" he roared at the flames, raising a fist in anger. His long raven hair and raindrop pendent swung wildly about his figure, making him appear more the furious sorcerer than ever. "You think I can't recognize your magic! You cast this spell on me!"

Calcifer blanched a shade of sickly yellow, lowering himself cautiously down into his logs.

"I didn't know that this would happen!" he protested, spouting sparks all around his face. "I didn't know it was some kind of vampire spell! Honestly! Really!"

"Don't think I don't know you, Calcifer!" he continued, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously in his rage. "You've been trying to split us up from the moment we got married! Very clever! If I drained her blood, surely she'd leave!"

"If I wanted you to do that, I wouldn't have stopped the spell!" the fire demon argued, flaring up slightly, but still grudgingly fearful.

"You didn't realize how dangerous it was to Sophie!" Howl shouted, and then, as if her name were another magic word directing him into action, he turned around to face her, his features softening into loving concern. He took a step toward her, holding out his hands.

"My love," he said, running his eyes fearfully over her torn dress and the red, swelling mark on her neck, "Are you all right?"

She gasped under her breath, her trembling lips open in fear, her eyes darting anxiously from his hand to his face. She stepped madly backward, then cried out in pain as her bare foot sliced into a large piece of the broken bowl, cutting it deeply.

Howl saw this, and stepped toward her urgently, ready to help.

"Sophie!" he said to her in alarm, but she was shaking her head wildly.

"No!" she said loudly, averting her eyes as she drew in long, labored breathes. "Don't come near me! Don't touch me!"

Howl's eyes widened, their depths softening to a rare state of sadness. He lowered his hand, pursing his lips into a deep, miserable frown. He swallowed hard, and then, cautiously, began in the most heartbreakingly tender, melancholy voice:

"Sophie," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "It wasn't my fault."

She heard this, and it made her stand stock still among the broken dishes, one hand still frantically holding closed the front of her dress. A great part of her heart compelled her to look up at him, to look him in the eye and agree, to tell him the whole and unmitigated truth of her plan and the misery that had led up to it – but another part, one much more familiar, picked up her feet and ran.

She ran straight to her old bedroom even as Howl called out her name, locking and bolting the door hysterically behind her before rushing to her bed and collapsing, her chest heaving, on her old bed. The smell of her old quilt was comforting, and she breathed it in deeply even as she found she could hardly catch her breath, her body safe, but her mind still trapped in the horrible situation that had, she realized with a shudder, been created entirely by her own naivety.

He was knocking on the door now, quietly but urgently, speaking through the old wood.

"Sophie, are you all right?" he was saying, concern evident in his kind voice. "Let me in, love. Please? Sophie! At least answer!"

She turned her head listlessly into her pillow. She knew that if he wanted, he could open the door with a flick of his finger, but as it was, knew also that he would respect her enough to leave her in peace. She waited in silence, listening as his pleas grew more desperate and weak, and then sighed when she realized he had finally gone away.

Sophie wasn't sure how long she lay there, dispassionately, on the bed. It felt like hours, each minute ticking away more painfully than the next. For a time, she swore she could feel remnants of the spell still floating in her veins, making her feel achy and incomplete, as if someone had stolen the one part of her body that gave it its strength. The same thoughts ran over and over again in her mind.

She knew she could not face Howl. Before all this, before her wicked, deplorable idea had blown up in her face, she had at least been able to lie to him and still feel as if things might soon inexplicably improve. But now, how could she look into his eyes again? She would need to tell him it was her idea; she certainly couldn't leave Calcifer to take the heat. And if she told him she had asked for the spell, it would inevitably lead to confessing why she had wanted it – and that was a shame Sophie knew she couldn't possibly bear.

She wasn't this sort of woman! She wasn't supposed to want for things like this to happen. She was normal, polite, and good – or at least, she had thought so. But now, in the course of one afternoon, she had become no better than the Witch of the Waste in wanting to steal his heart – only she had stolen his body instead.

She whimpered, curling her legs toward her stomach. She was sure that Howl had his reasons. Maybe what Lettie had told her about wizards being able to protect against pregnancy was all garbage, and Howl didn't want a child with her. There were other explanations as well. After all, hair aside, she wasn't very beautiful. It was possible that he simply didn't want her.

She blinked, realizing that her eyes had filled with hot, salty tears. They burned as she closed her eyes tightly, comforted by the darkness, wishing that sleep would come mercifully and take her away.

She knew in her mind that there was only one thing she could do.

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Sometime after the sun had set, Sophie cautiously opened her door. She peered warily into the kitchen, letting her breath exhale sharply as she saw that it was dark, empty except for the flickering flames of the fire demon in the hearth. His shadows played eerily on the walls, and when he looked at her, his eyes wide and his mouth a rigid frown, she realized that his movements reflected something sad.

She entered the kitchen as quietly as she could, taking her satchel with her. Calcifer, when he might otherwise have called out to her, only watched her gravely as she approached the hearth.

"Where's Howl?" she asked softly, sparing the need for a greeting. The demon flickered low on his logs, letting out a long, tremendous sigh.

"He's in his room," he explained in a low voice. "He seems to be taking this pretty rough. He said that the next time it rains, he's putting me out."

Sophie frowned, taking a log from the pile and handing it to him sympathetically, as a friend might hand another a tissue. He took it gratefully, pulling it somberly toward himself and letting it drop among the others.

"He doesn't mean that," she said quietly. "You're as good as his best friend. Neither of us would ever want you gone – and besides, the moment he comes back down, you're going to tell him the whole truth. Tell him that this was all my idea."

Calcifer frowned, looking up at her doubtfully.

"I can't do that," he protested as the new log cracked in his flame. "If Howl is angry with you, you'll fight, and then you'll be sad, and I won't have it. Don't worry about me – rain or not, I can take care of myself. He'll get over it."

Sophie shook her head quietly, trying her best to be calm, composed and firm about all of this. She knew that she wouldn't have another chance to leave her instructions.

"No, you must," she said resolutely, looking intently at the demon. "Tell him exactly what happened. He needs to know the truth – and I could never forgive myself if you suffered for my mistakes."

"Well," Calcifer said lowly, in his crackling voice, "Why couldn't you tell him yourself?"

"Because I'm leaving," she whispered, tightening her grip on her satchel as if it might strengthen her resolve.

"Leaving!" he exclaimed, flaring up high in the hearth, his flames suddenly dancing wildly around his face. He crackled loudly, and the logs tumbled down over each other, summoning up clouds of ash from below. "You can't leave! You're what holds us all together! None of us are any good without you making us into a family – and besides, I don't want to be stuck here with Howl! I value what little sanity I've kept in this place!"

"Calm down," she whispered loudly, trying to shush him in case his alarm might alert Howl. "It's not forever. It's only for a little while – I just need time to think about all of this. I can't face Howl right now; not after what I did. Can't you please try to understand that?"

The fire demon burned low in the grate, looking up at her with eyes narrowed in doubt, his expression reflecting slight hurt.

"I think that if you apologized," he said softly, and a bit hesitantly, "Howl would believe you. He would believe anything you said – and then he would forgive you. Maybe after that, everything could go back to normal around here."

Sophie smiled bitterly, her heart seizing in her chest. The fire demon reminded her suddenly of her husband – childish, and completely naïve, just as she had been.

"I wish it was that simple," she found herself saying, shaking her head gently. "But I can't lie to him any longer. I can't pretend that things are perfect when really, I find myself needing – needing more than that. I need to face this, and I need to do it alone."

Calcifer narrowed his glowing eyes, and continued to look at her doubtfully. She knew, suddenly, that he was holding back – he wanted to argue, and make her stay, but instead, he was grudgingly letting her go.

"I don't really understand what you're talking about," he said in a low, unhappy voice. "But you've never led us in the wrong direction. Maybe you do need to do whatever it is you need to do alone – but you have to promise that when you do need help, you'll ask for it. And you have to promise you'll come back!"

"Of course I'll come back," Sophie said, wishing she could reach out and hug him. Instead, she brought her hand to her face, brushing away the few tears that had escaped from her eyes. "I love Howl with all of my heart – and I love you too, Calcifer."

The demon burned a rosy red, smiling slightly.

"Well," he said after a long pause, "Howl will notice right away that you're gone. Make sure you don't let him bully you into coming back and being his wife – because if there's anything worse than having you gone, it's having you here unhappy."

Sophie smiled delicately, nodding.

"You're pretty wise, for a demon who spent his entire life on Earth in a fireplace," she said, chuckling sadly, "Feeding off Howl's heart."

"He's a fool, it's true," Calcifer admitted conversationally. "But his magic! And that was only a brief few years, anyhow. I have eternity to escape from his influence."

Her smile widened slightly, and she hoisted up her satchel, feeling her heart seize again as she turned, fighting her every instinct, toward the door. For one moment, she wished that Howl would appear on the stairs, calling her name, questioning her, taking her in his arms and begging her to stay – but the moment passed, and still, she was alone.

"Tell him the truth, Calcifer," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I know that I'll see you soon."

And without waiting for a response, she headed toward the door. She closed her eyes as she reached for the handle, knowing that in just a few seconds, she would lose her chance to look back.

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Ahh – well, what can I say? Sophie's left Howl. I feel sorry for him – he's really just a victim in all of this, and there's no easy solution. And Sophie's torn between being honest with herself and not pretending anymore, and wanting to be with her love. Do you think she'll stay away long?

All this over love making … heh heh. Well, let me know what you think of this, as always. The more encouragement, the faster I write!