How long had she been watching her?

"I did not mean to startle you, Claire, but why are you reading my journal?" Amelie asked reasonably.

"Myrnin… Myrnin said that he wanted me to know who he really was," Claire said quietly, afraid Amelie might get mad.

"Ah," Amelie said. "Then that is in the tenth entry." She held out her perfect hand and motioned for Claire to hand her the book. When she had it, she flipped through the daybook, looking for the correct page.

When Claire saw that Amelie was not upset that Claire had gone through her personal journal, she wondered. "'But nothing close to love?'"

"Pardon?" Amelie asked while searching for the entry.

"He says 'But nothing close to love' when he says good-bye to you," Claire recalled. "What did he mean by it?"

Amelie said, without looking up, "I first saw him as an inconsiderate man who stole the hearts of women for fun. He knew that if that was what I thought him to be, I would lose all of my respect for him. That was to reassure me that he wanted to have my friendship and nothing more."

Amelie suddenly stopped her searching in the book and began to read her story to Claire.

…

12 December, 1550

It has been more than a year since the last time I wrote in this book. Perhaps it is for the better. So much has happened since then. Thomas Seymour was next in line for governorship of King Edward (his dearly beloved elder brother), but was accused of high treason by the Queen herself. There was absolutely no evidence against him but the King's wife's word and Thomas Seymour was consequently beheaded. A rebellion broke out within the confines of the castle when one of the Queen's servants attempted to take Her Royal Highness's life and Myrnin and I saw it was necessary for us to escape the tension found in the Kingdom of England. Now we rest at an inn just next to the ocean in Belgium, only a dozen miles away from my home country, France.

Within the past year, I have learned much about my friend Myrnin. He had a father who was his old town's madman. Sometimes, I can see it in him, the hereditary brain disease that makes him frank and predatory. I often wonder if it will grow, like mold on old cheese, consuming Myrnin and eventually leaving him to rot. But I never ask. Myrnin speaks of his father and his condition with such bitterness, I believe it best not to bring up the matter myself.

But yesterday, as we traveled to the cities of Belgium once night had fallen, his vampirism and demented side showed themselves to me simultaneously as we hunted. It was a combination of things that should never have mixed, and it frightened me. Bishop was my begetter, the one who ruled with an iron hand and was even worse as a father. I had experienced years of hell with him—I did not believe anything would terrify me as Bishop did. But nothing scared me worse than when Myrnin lost all humanity and waged war against a helpless people. And I was incapacitated against the cold, unwelcome knowledge that my friend was in league with the Devil.

-Amelie

…

"He cleared out a whole village," Amelie said, lowering the journal and looking at Claire. "All of them died by his hands. Some he didn't even drink from; he just snapped their necks and moved on."

Claire blinked and then realized she had tears in her eyes. "I had n—"

"Hush," Amelie said suddenly, cocking her head to the side. "Do you hear that?"

"Wh—?"

She gestured for Claire to be quiet.

There was the sound of movement and suddenly Myrnin was standing in the lab with a gleam in his eyes. His stance was animalistic, ready to pounce at any moment.

His voice had the feel of a hand running across a velvet dress and Claire could see Myrnin's threads unraveling before her eyes. "Are you glad you know, little one? Are you now aware of what I could do to your frail little body with a flick of my wrist? Ego sum mortiferum."

"Claire, fetch me his drugs," Amelie said calmly.

Claire nodded slowly and moved to a cabinet that contained vials of Myrnin's medicine, took one out, and handed it to Amelie without making any sudden movements that would snap Myrnin out of his stalking mode and into his pouncing one.