Authors' Note: The rating of this fic will be upped to M in Chapter Four. Please note this, and don't lose track. Also, there is cover art now available by link in this profile. Enjoy.

Chapter Three

Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.
Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man

The plane landed as smoothly as could be expected. It skidded down the runway, bumping the passengers around in their seats. Selene curled her lip in distaste at the condition of the pavement, broken and faded in the lights along the edge. If the whole of New York looked like this, she was ready to turn right around and take the next plane back to Europe. She glanced at Michael, taking in his scrunched face and soft grunts of discomfort. He was squeezing her hand in his again, as he had been for most of the ride.

"Welcome to New York," the captain said happily over the intercom. "We have just been informed that our gate is still being occupied by another plane. The wait time should only be another twenty minutes. Information about connecting flights will be available momentarily. Thank you all for your patience." The speaker crackled off.

Some of the children in the cabin groaned, tired and ready to curl up in bed. One little girl whined about missing her favorite television show, to which her mother quickly responded that it was a Monday; her show came on during the weekends. As the plane came to a halt before their terminal to wait for the previous flight to move, Michael released Selene's hand and let out a shaky breath.

"There," Selene prodded gently, just as glad as he was to be on the ground but doing a much better job at hiding it. "Not so bad, was it?"

He gave a tense shrug, letting out another deep breath. "Whatever."

Bryan stirred anxiously beside him. Once he had come to, a good forty minutes or so after Selene had nearly throttled him, he hadn't remembered a thing. Just as Michael had promised. He merely blinked a few times before asking for another glass of wine. Eventually the stewards stopped supplying him and he fell asleep, much to the relief of the two immortals sitting next to him. Now, though, the large man was very ready to be off the plane and on the next headed for New Orleans.

"What airport are we at?" Michael asked softly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Selene always managed to tell him as little as possible, and because of it he was in the dark more often than not. That was a little thing he wished would change before she drove him crazy by forcing him to ask so many questions.

The vampire didn't reply right away, taking her time as she reached into the small handbag she had gotten before boarding. The tickets were not hard to find, as all she currently had in the bag were two fake IDs (borrowed from a drugstore passport machine in a town on their way to the airport) and Michael's magazine. She ran her finger over one of the strips of thick paper. "LaGuardia," she said finally as she fixed her eyes on the name. "What?" she snapped when she saw him tense up again.

Michael jerked at the venom in her voice. "Uh, it's nothing. I just…" He paused, wondering how much she already knew. "I used to live around here. I can't believe I didn't recognize it. Samantha and I -"

Selene cut him off before he could finish. "The two men meeting us will be by the baggage claim. Mark and David. They've already cleared us to get through customs."

"What do they look like?" he asked, trying to get a mental picture so they would be easier to spot.

"I don't know," she admitted softly, regaining her composure. "We'll know soon enough."

A few minutes later the plane began moving again, this time into the terminal itself. Bryan waved over a stewardess he had been flirting with. "I might need some help off the plane. Would you like to lend me a hand, little lady?"

The young woman smiled sweetly at him, but as soon as the man leaned down to pick up his carry-on bag from under the seat before him, she shot a worried glance over his large back. Her eyes met Selene's and she gave the other woman a panicked look. Startled at the sudden attention, Selene turned her head in the other direction. She could almost feel the stewardess's disappointment and a long-forgotten string tugged in her heart.

"I'll help," said Michael, cutting in. Bryan turned unsteadily, looking as though he might fall over. "I mean, assuming you still need help."

"Oh! Oh, I uh…" he laughed sloppily, reminding Selene of the pigs they'd had on her farm what seemed like eons ago. He stank sickeningly of rancid alcohol. "I think I got it, Mr. Corvikinson." He winked lewdly at Selene. "Besides, you got your hands full with this little wife of yours."

Selene ran her tongue over her teeth and glared daggers at his back, painfully aware of Michael's hand on her shoulder. I don't need that, damn you. Worse was the knowledge that she probably did, however loathe she might be to admit it.

"Got everything?" asked Michael, once Bryan was very far down the aisle.

"Yes!" She hadn't meant to snap, and the instant look of hurt on his face sent a pang of regret through her. He really had been wonderful about the whole trip, though she'd never tell him as much.

"Then let's go." One hand floating over the small of her back, Michael steered them down the aisle and out into the terminal.

Choice, or protective instinct? Selene gave him a look, but for once he was completely unreadable.

LaGuardia International Airport was large, crowded, and so humanly polluted that Selene found herself reeling in disgust. Ordinarily, she wasn't picky. Natural dirt didn't faze her. But the smell of residual sweat from hundreds of thousands of harried and unwashed humans…it made her stomach turn.

"Bag claim this way," said Michael, at last falling into the ease of something vaguely familiar. He was different now, though. He'd looked like a haunted man the first time Selene had spotted him in the dark subway tunnel. Now, though, it seemed something had sparked back into his eyes. And Selene was sure she had nothing to do with it.

A high-pitched squealing met them as they turned into the area set aside for the baggage claim. "What is that awful noise?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing as she resisted the urge to cover her sensitive ears.

Michael shot her a quick glance before sending his gaze over the large group of people waiting to convene with their respective parties. "The conveyer belt. It's squeaked like that for as long as I can remember." Another light lit behind his eyes and Selene suddenly realized what was triggering the change. He was home.

"There they are," she muttered, pushing ahead of her companion to meet with the two men standing aside from the other people.

One of the vampires stepped forward. "Selene, I presume?" he asked, holding out a slender hand. "I'm David."

She clasped his hand in her own for a brief moment before letting hers drop back to her side. "Thank you for greeting us, David."

Michael stood back, taking in the two men conversing with Selene. The one whose hand she had just shaken was tall and thick, seemingly covered in muscle from head to toe. His skin had a dusky natural tan to it, his hair dark and curly. Hispanic, almost. The other man, still silent and submissive, was shorter with pale skin and blond hair. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses was sitting precariously on his nose; one good sneeze would shoot them right off. If vampires could sneeze, that was. Michael was taken again by how very little he knew, sending him right back down the ladder he was trying so hard to climb.

"Do you have any bags?" David questioned, bring the hybrid back to the present.

"No," Selene answered, sparing him little more than a glance. "We're carrying all that we brought."

"Mark, take her bag." He gestured dismissively to the other vampire. "This way. We should be heading out; it's a long drive."

Selene watched warily as David turned and led them from the crowded airport. Michael glanced at her before following.

"Can I carry that for you?"

She startled at the voice beside her. It was Mark, doing as he had been commanded. She wondered momentarily what his story was to be so low on the chain of command. For some reason she found it difficult to be rude to this soft-spoken vampire. Instead of snapping, Selene gave him a tight smile. "No, thank you."

Mark returned her uncomfortable smile widely. "Are you sure? It's no problem."

"Mark!" David called shouted shortly. "What are you doing back there? Come on!"

Without waiting for Selene to say no again, he gently eased the small bag off her shoulder and ushered for her to walk ahead after David and Michael. "You know," he said quietly, voice holding a faint New York accent, "I think you're going to like it here. Or at least, I hope you will." He was careful not to make eye contact.

Acting on a hunch, Selene asked, "How old are you, Mark?"

He was taken off guard by the question. "A-about two-hundred thirteen. Pretty young, right?"

"Comparatively speaking." She smirked, her suspicion confirmed. He was a servant, just as Erika had been. The circumstances were still unknown, but judging from his age he had probably been turned for that very purpose.

The air outside was thick with exhaust from planes and cars, but distinctly underlined with an autumn chill. There was no breeze, but Selene didn't need one to know that the cold would come in quickly from the north. Just as it had back home. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She had stolen Michael's life away, then jerked him away from everything he had known and thrown him into a very new situation. Guilt, an emotion she had gotten to know very well over the last few days, nearly overwhelmed her. For the first time in a long time, she was worried.

"What about you?"

"Excuse me?" She had been so absorbed in her surroundings that she hadn't been listening to a word Mark had been saying. Something about the city before he was turned?

"Your age," he clarified, adjusting his glasses. "How old are you?"

Selene was not given the chance to answer. David swirled around on the younger vampire, spitting with anger. "Do you not remember a thing I told you, you worthless little bloodsack?"

Mark blanched. "I -"

"Just get in the car." David shoved him roughly toward the driver's side of the black Cadillac, making him trip around the hood.

Selene's mouth opened quickly, ready to come to Mark's defense, but then she thought better of it. She and Michael were guests. Picking a fight would do no good. She pursed her lips, frustrated. Needing a distraction, she reached out and took hold of Michael's arm as David opened the back door. The two slid in and David slammed the door behind them. Michael met her eyes, fear evident on his face. Selene looked away.

The car started as David got into the passenger seat. "Buckle up," he ordered tightly. As Mark pulled out onto the main road, the other vampire turned around, saying acidly, "You have put everyone out of their way to make you comfortable. Be sure to show respect for those you are about to meet." He snapped back to the front.

Michael glanced to Selene again. She was looking listlessly out the tinted window. It was nearly impossible to see anything beyond the glass, and the notion made him uneasy. "Um, where are we going?"

"The coven is located in White Plains. Why?" David did not turn around again and Michael got the distinct impression that though trouble had apparently been taken to 'make them comfortable,' that did not extend into making them welcome.

"No reason," he responded quietly.

"By the way," David added offhandedly into the tense quiet. "There's a banquet tomorrow night. Held to welcome you." The way he said it made Michael's skin tingle with unease.

Selene spoke for the first time since the ride began. "I'm sure you've realized," she said, matching David's tone exactly, "that we have no formal clothes? What we are wearing now is all we have."

"That will be taken care of."

Another chilled silence fell. Michael wondered if maybe all vampires were like this with one another. Cold and uncaring. It was disconcerting. He didn't want to be with a group of people that never had a nice thing to say, where friendships were most likely frowned upon. His thoughts turned to Selene, and suddenly some of his questions had answers.

Nothing else was said. The drive, while not very long, seemed to stretch on forever. Shadows and silhouettes passed across the dark windows, giving no clue as to what was actually beyond the glass. Michael wanted to grab Selene's hand, feel the pressure of her fingers in his as she told him everything would be okay. But he resisted the urge, leaving her to the thoughts she seemed quite lost in.

After a good thirty minutes, the car pulled onto gravel and slowed to a stop. Selene instantly sat straighter, tensing as the ignition was turned off and the two vampires in front got out. She followed almost hesitantly, forcing her legs to move once she opened the door. Michael slammed the other door shut as he stood. The two of them glanced to each other before looking to the building that was their new home.

The car had pulled to the front of the huge mansion. It was curved almost in a semi-circle, rising up on all sides a good five stories. A tower rose another up the center, accenting the massive entryway at the bottom with arches and columns. The brick looked black in the pale moonlight, the lighter stone around the hundreds of windows stark against it. It looked more like a hotel than a home.

Or more like a sanitarium, Michael mused sourly.

Selene closed her door, the dull thump echoing against the huge wall before them. She tensed again, unable to let her guard down, as David began walking toward the front entrance. Mark was at her side before she had realized he was moving. Her bag was hooked on his arm.

"I'll show the two of you to your rooms." He gave her a reassuring smile before looking at Michael, still on the other side of the vehicle. David had disappeared inside. "I'm sure you're both tired."

Michael fell in step beside Selene as the three made their own way to the house. Mark opened the door, holding it for them to enter. The front foyer was just as impressive as the outside. The floors were rich wood, dark and finished to shine. The rugs were remarkably ornate, thick with reds and golds. The walls were painted a deep burgundy, spotted with electric wall lamps every few feet to give some light to the dusky hall. Above them the ceiling soared to the third story before leveling.

Facing them, though, was an impressive divided spiral staircase. Both sides twisted up to the second story landing, converging together at the top with a flourish of wood and gold. The handrails themselves were gold, the runner on the stairs a deep red, nearly the same as the color on the walls. Hanging down the center was the largest chandelier either of them had seen. It was still fitted for candles, for some reason, but those candles were lit. Their flickering flames reflected on the cut glass hanging from the arms and bends of bronze shaping. More glass decorated the shaping itself, seeming to glow with the medieval lighting.

"Welcome," Mark said, "to your new home."

Michael shuddered involuntarily, though the other man's voice was undeniably friendly. A chill seemed to have settled over him from the moment the doors had opened, and he was not fully convinced that it was from the chill climate preferred by vampires or the damp fall air outside.

"Michael."

He jumped at the brush of Selene's hand against his arm, and he noticed suddenly that Mark was several steps up the staircase, though he couldn't for the life of him remember seeing the other man move. It was like being trapped back inside of Lucian's memories again, only this time the experience really did belong to him.

Please, God, tell me it isn't always like this.

"Right," said Michael, nodding to Selene and following hastily. His feet seemed suddenly to be made of blocks of lead, and he had to concentrate on moving them one at a time in order to keep his balance on the carpeted stairs.

"It's nearly dawn," said Mark, stopping in front of a door on the second landing. He pulled a cardkey from his pocket and handed it to Selene along with her small bag, apparently willing to give them some degree of privacy. "You'll be welcomed properly tomorrow night."

Michael stood watching Mark's retreating back as it got smaller and smaller, winding around the staircase. He almost wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. The place was overtly formal; it didn't feel as though it had ever been lived in.

"Michael!" Selene had the door open and was gesturing to him again, impatiently this time.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just don't quite know where I am."

"Get inside." She made no attempt to disguise the fact that it was an order, and Michael snapped to like a guilty soldier, nearly tripping in his haste to get across the threshold.

Selene closed and triple-locked the door behind them, then proceeded to flip on every light in the place. Having just managed to adjust to the dark, Michael's eyes protested at the sudden change, and for several alarming moments he could see nothing but green spots. When at last his vision cleared, he was looking at an extravagant suite. Three doorways branched off of one wall; two bedrooms and presumably a bathroom became visible as Selene banged rapidly in and out of them. The main living space was circular, both carpeted and wallpapered in black. The wall opposite the one with the doors was lined with a very long, gray-leathered, semi-circular couch. A glistening black table stood on narrow legs in the middle of the room, looking precariously fragile and too tall to be either sat or stood at comfortably. Michael swallowed hard, feeling as though he were in a jail cell, then jumped as Selene opened the bathroom door hard enough to bang it into the wall.

"What are you doing?" he asked at last, watching her open and close empty drawers like some kind of absurdly placed robot. She made another circuit of the room, uprooting sofa cushions and kneeling and running her palm along the underside of the table before acknowledging him again.

"Looking for bugs." Selene crossed her arms over her chest, looking in her ridiculously oversized clothes like a moody teenager. "There aren't any, at least that I can see."

"Selene…" He wanted to tell her that she was being paranoid, but in truth had nothing to base that assertion on outside his own wish for it to be true. Did vampires ordinarily make a habit of backstabbing their own kind? Or was it all because of him?

I never asked for any of this. No one can blame me. Michael shivered again, and this time it really was from the cold. Suddenly he wished he'd managed to hold onto the jacket he'd discarded in the helicopter.

"We're fugitives, Michael, however many times they may want to call us guests," said Selene tightly. "I wouldn't put it past them to keep surveillance on us, at least at first."

"Okay, so…"

"So we've nothing to do now but wait for the day to pass." Selene turned and walked quickly to the doorway of one of the bedrooms, then turned back to face him. "You'd do well to get some sleep."

Don't do this to me. I can't take it right now. Not from you, of all people. Michael gave her a look, the cold feeling that had plagued his stomach since getting on the plane intensifying afresh.

"And you?" asked Michael, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Selene gave orders when she was afraid; it hadn't taken him long to pick up on that. That knowledge didn't, however, take away the sting of her words.

"I tend to follow my own advice," said Selene, turning her back on him. She did not close the door, but made no indication that he should follow, either. They had been given two separate bedrooms. Perhaps there was a reason? He'd gotten the distinct feeling on the plane that she genuinely cared for him, but perhaps she did not equate that with total sharing of her privacy?

Sighing, Michael sprawled back across one of the couches. The leather was cold to the touch in the low temperature, and he was suddenly gripped by an unbearable sadness. Staring at Selene's open doorway, Michael prepared to sit up the remainder of the day.