A/N: To emoxdarling-- THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!! I've gotten nothing but shit from everyone who's reviewed so far, but your review really brightened my day! This chapter is dedicated to you, my first awesome reviewer!

Revelation

Tanith's voice broke and she fell silent. The boys stared at her for a moment before Patrick said, "That's…that's horrible. I'm so sorry." Tanith nodded appreciatively but didn't speak for a time.

"I almost lost my mind when I found out," she finally said quietly. "Brendon did everything he could for me, but I was consumed with hurt, sorrow, rage, and the unquenchable lust for vengeance. I wanted to kill William. I wanted to tear his head from his body and carry it with me forever. The man I had loved, the man I had trusted had killed my family. Out of spite, then, I started researching a cure for vampirism. It took over a year, but I finally made it. I experimented on some of the other vampires in the city before I got it right. I caused some nasty mutations in the early stages, but no one really cared. I cured myself, and then Brendon sired me again. Once I had completely severed all ties to William I left the mansion, though I first tore William's favorite suit to shreds and nailed his best fedora to the lid of his coffin with a railroad spike, just missing his heart. For the next two years I trained endlessly, returning to the Syndicate to develop my powers to their fullest."

"Syndicate?" echoed Andy.

Patrick looked at Tanith thoughtfully. "What did you say your last name was?"

"It's Venator," Tanith said with pride.

Patrick snapped his fingers with revelation. "I knew that sounded familiar! I've heard of the Syndicate; you hunt vampires as a profession. You guys go back centuries."

Tanith treated him to an approving smile. "I'm impressed. Yes, I was born into the Syndicate. My mother married into it. My father's ancestors originally started the Syndicate. I've spent my life training to kill vampires, but not indiscriminately."

"So is 'Tanith' your real name?" asked Patrick.

"If you mean is it the one I was born with, then no," replied Tanith. Looking at the others, she said, "In the Syndicate a child can choose his or her own name at the age of thirteen, when childhood ends. I was named Emeline when I was born, but I took my mother's name – Tanith – at my thirteenth birthday celebration." Sadly, she added, "It was after they were murdered. I found their bodies in their bedroom. Their arms and legs had been torn off and thrown about, their abdomens ripped open and their guts pulled out, their heads switched on the other's body. It was disgusting. I went insane, but slowly came back to myself, cured by the insatiable hunger for revenge. I swore that I would find out who was responsible for this atrocity and make them pay a thousand fold."

"This Syndicate let you back in even though you were a vampire?" asked Pete.

"I told you we don't kill indiscriminately," Tanith answered. "There are several vampires in our family, as we call it. The Syndicate takes care of its own, and my parents' death is still being mourned today. When I explained what had happened to me, the Syndicate had to take me back. I had lost too much already, they said. They couldn't turn me away."

There was silence for a time. No one knew what to say. What do you say to a girl who's lost everything? Then, tentatively, Pete ventured to ask, "Tanith, about…about the cure you mentioned…"

"You want it, don't you," said Tanith gently, smiling. Pete nodded. "Certainly I'll share it with you, but I recommend you wait until you've finished with William. You won't defeat him as a human, I'm afraid." Pete had to admit that this was true. He couldn't even beat William as a vampire yet. As a human he'd have no chance at all.

"What's in this cure of yours?" asked Joe.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to figure anything out," said Patrick. "I've tried anti-coagulants, blood thinners, viruses-"

Tanith laughed. "You're thinking too scientifically; you need to think superstitiously. It's actually pretty simple: mix a garlic protein-based receptor compound with holy water, werewolf venom, and the blood of your sire. That last part will be difficult, but the rest is easy enough to get."

"Werewolf venom?" repeated Andy. "How is that easy to get?"

Tanith's smile widened. "A friend owes me a favor. Besides, he'd do it anyway."

"You're friends with a werewolf?!" yelped Joe.

"Among others. The Syndicate works to eliminate the harmful supernatural entities in this world, but we leave most of them alone. People have been poisoned by campfire stories and B-grade horror flicks; the truth is that most creatures in this world, like vampires and werewolves, just want to live in peace. Several of them help the Syndicate to destroy those that are classically 'evil'."

Pete took a deep drink from the blender of mix that Patrick had given him. "So…they'd leave me alone?"

"Actually, you're part of the reason I came out here," replied Tanith. "The Syndicate has heard about you and was impressed with your endeavors. They sent me out here to assist you. Mostly, though, I'm here for William's head. But I'll stay around after that. Someone needs to take William down and replace him. I can do that. I'll bring everything to order like it used to be. And, of course, I'll give you the cure, Pete." Pete smiled. "I warn you, though, it's not going to be pleasant. If you thought that becoming a vampire was painful, you haven't felt anything yet. The worst of it passes quickly enough, though, and then it's just a matter of time."

"I don't care what it takes; I want to be human again," said Pete resolutely. Tanith smiled.

"Is there anything else anyone wants to know?" she asked.

"Can I see your sword?" asked Andy eagerly. Tanith laughed, drew her sword, and offered it to him hilt-first. It was a beauty of a blade, forged of high carbon steel and etched with three long blood grooves. A polished ebony wood grip and solid brass pommel and cross guard in the shape of a bat completed the masterpiece. Andy whistled appreciatively before handing the sword back to Tanith.

"It was my parents' last gift to me," she said. "They were going to give it to me on my thirteenth birthday, but the Syndicate master – who's my great-uncle – had to do the honors instead. I swore that this blade would taste the blood of the one who had murdered my family. And now I'm back to fulfill that promise. I never break a promise."

"Hey," said Pete gently. Tanith looked up at him. "You can stay here as long as you want. And you can always come back." Tanith smiled at him.

"Thanks, Pete." She stretched out slowly, making the boys realize how tired they were. "Do you have a spare closet or somewhere with no windows?"

"Yeah, I have a spare bed," said Pete. He showed her to where he had another metal office closet with a mattress inside like the one he slept in. Thanking him, Tanith climbed in and shut the doors. The boys retired to their beds, exhausted from the night's activities. Patrick, Joe, Andy, and Tanith all fell to dreamless sleep. But for Pete, with sleep came, not rest, but terrible nightmares:

Pete leaned his head back against the cell wall, weak and worn out. He and his friends had been locked up for a week now, and he had gone the entire time without his blood substitute. He was smelling blood everywhere, seeing it pulsing in the guard's leering face when he laughed at Pete's predicament. Pete knew that he was dying; he could see his body shriveling up, his bones poking through his wrinkled skin. He had to look like a living skeleton at this point. He was afraid that if he saw Patrick, Joe, or Andy that he'd kill them on sight without being able to control it. God, he needed blood.

The door of the jail opened and closed. Pete didn't – couldn't – even raise his head to see who it was. He didn't really care anyway. What more would they do to him, he wondered. He closed his eyes, hoping that he could sleep through whatever was happening outside. However, that was merely wishful thinking.

"Ah, Peter…what's happened to you?"

Pete's eyes opened quickly enough, despite his weakened state. His sire, the evil William, stood inside his cell, smiling down at him. Pete shut his eyes again and groaned unhappily. William laughed, and Pete felt him move closer.

"Leave me alone…why won't you leave me alone?" Pete mumbled, opening his eyes again.

"Poor child," said William, ignoring Pete's words. "You're so weak…so hungry. Just look at what you've become."

"Stay away from me!" Pete cried, raising his hands to fend William off, only to be reminded that he was still manacled. He fought against his restraints while William came up to the side of his cot. "Leave me alone!" In response William removed one of his gloves, rolled up his sleeve, and cut his wrist with a small knife. Pete's eyes widened in horror and hunger as he stared at the blood. "Ooh God…"

"This is what you want, isn't it, Peter?" William said, offering the blood. "This is what you need. So take it. It's right there for you."

"No," moaned Pete, pulling back as much as he could. Unfortunately, he was already pinned against the wall with no way to escape. William drew closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, trapping Pete between him and the wall.

"Stop fighting me, Peter," said William enticingly. "Give in to your hunger. Be what you are, and experience the power I've given you." As he spoke he wound his arm around Pete's shoulders, pressing his hand to the side of Pete's head to draw him forward and hold him still. Pete struggled weakly as William pressed his wrist to Pete's mouth, forcing him to either choke or swallow. Pete drank unwillingly, painfully aware of William's cruel smile of triumph.

"You're mine now, Peter," he said. "You belong to me."

Tears burned down Pete's face as he realized that it was true.