Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Bathroom

The darkness was still prominent outside as Alison rid herself of dirt that had been clinging to her skin. She'd expected this new eternity to pass excruciatingly slowly. Like every single day was no longer split into hours, minutes and seconds that ticked by too fast but would dissolve into one never ending mass. Apparently the clocks didn't work any slower just because one was immortal.

She'd showered for a long time, throwing ideas back and forth in the security of the bathroom. She's considered attempting to drown herself to get out of this mess before realizing that would be useless. Her guardian, who was on the other side of the bathroom door, had only given her twenty minutes before he'd come in to check on her and she'd already wasted most of it. She'd have to fill her lungs completely with water, silently at that, which wasn't possible while standing under the shower.

It was a bit freaky to find herself contemplating death because in all her human years on the run, she'd never given such serious thought to ending her life. It wasn't going to happen. Any change would alert him that she was doing something out of order and she was not ready to face him completely naked and conscious of it if he stormed in again.

She'd toyed with the option of pleading with her father again once he made his appearance in the morning. If he did. Seconds later that train of thought was labeled as stupid and naive. She'd found her mind eventually wandering off towards the man sitting in her room right now. She was confused by him, to say the least. He was prepared to comfort her to a certain point, less than an hour after threatening her and making it clear that he did not give much of damn about the person she was. It was just a job to him.

Then again, he seemed to try to go beyond it being a grueling stay for them both. He'd actually made an effort to share something with her. He could have just remained silent the way he'd done before. Frankie Dalton was at least ninety-nine percent confusing.

After finally cutting off the stream of water and wrapping herself in a towel, she'd made a show of saying, "I'm still alive" to the door and she could hear him shift on the other side. He was listening. Satisfied that he wouldn't come in, she'd dried herself and then let the fluffy material slide to the ground. It was the first time she was presented with a mirror in weeks, and a full-length one at that, and she needed to see herself.

She'd got quite a shock at not being visible at all. Since this whole ordeal was the most surreal thing she'd ever experienced, she hadn't wasted thought on the fact that vampires did not throw a reflection in a mirror. She'd twisted and turned, tip-toed over the slick tiles from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of something in the glass that wasn't going to appear. It left her feeling bodiless and empty. Finally she'd given up and stood dead straight in front of it, her face smooth as stone. It was as though her lack of reflection just emphasized that she wasn't real anymore. She'd felt like an illusion.

Her gaze had dropped down to her bare skin instead. She'd examined her own body critically like a doctor in search of the source of pain. It appeared unchanged. Well, with the exception of the monstrous things that had once been regular canines and the surely the colour of her iris.

Every spot was the same as before, even her skin tone hadn't lightened significantly yet. It was only a matter of time before the lack of sun would bleach it to the pallor of the people outside, those who tended to their gardens in the dark like it was complete normalcy. She could only shake her head at the view. Living, running, surviving with humans up until now had left her quite unaware of vampires' daily routines but this kind of behavior was ridiculous. Living in the dark was something she refused to adapt to.

When she'd finally snapped back to attention because the watchful bird outside the bathroom had pecked on the door, she'd slipped into her clothes without another look at the mirror. Giving her teeth a thorough brush as well, she evaded looking at the mirror, denying the discovery of her lost reflection. She finally re-entered her room distinctly cleaner than a week ago.

The sound of a pen causing friction on her desk had her looking over towards the window. Her captor was sitting at the table, scribbling something on a paper.

"Writing a letter?" she inquired.

"No"

She overlooked his curtness and sat against her twin bed's headboard, watching him. "Is my father coming tonight?"

"Possibly"

She was irked by his new lack of interest in conversation. She assumed that the outburst earlier had made him awkward and he wanted to avoid another scene at all costs by just evading interaction. She sighed, pushing away the memory now. It shouldn't have happened. Now she definitely gave off an unstable vibe. That didn't work well with her plan to establish some sort of trust with him.

"Look," she spoke with the strong, confident voice she reserved for instructions to younger runaways she'd been with, "What happened just now isn't going to happen again. I was still," she dug for a mature term, "adjusting"

He folded the paper he'd finished filling, not looking at her. He didn't reply for a while. She waited, watched and hoped for the right reaction.

"Nothing happened"

There it was. He was just going to overlook her outburst. She'd come to see that vampires liked to shut out what they didn't want to acknowledge. It had embarrassed him too.

"Good," she closed the unspoken pact of secrecy, smoothing a hand over her sweatshirt.

She knew her father would disapprove of the non-feminine clothing as soon as he walked through the door. She couldn't care less of his opinion. He'd died in her eyes a long time ago. Troublesome though, was the fact that she'd have to make him believe the opposite for the time being. She needed to embody his perfect daughter until an opening bared itself.

The interesting thing about her new species was that they didn't need to move as much as humans did. She could remain still without any voluntary muscles moving for hours and it would not faze her. It probably had to do with the greater attention span and physical control that her new body had. Vampires could focus much longer than humans. They didn't need a distraction or activity. She found herself not getting twitchy or uncomfortable at all. So she lay in her pillows and stared at the digital clock perched on her desk, next to the soldier's hand.

She watched it as he put the paper inside an envelope and sealed it. She watched the minutes flicker into double-digits as he stood and left her room. She was still watching, transfixed on the screen, as the hour changed. She found that time passed not faster and not slower than before, but always steadily, systematically. It didn't stop moving but she did. She had.

Everything she was physically had stopped ticking a week ago. She was a dead body that had simply been made to function again. She hadn't twitched a single sinew in two hours when Frankie passed by her room, speaking on a cell phone. Her eyes were drawn to him as he flashed past the doorway, his voice marble-smooth to whoever was on the other end. She listened to the resounding sound of metal hitting plastic as he snapped the phone shut. He was at the foot of her bed a second later.

"Your father's not coming. Not today."

She looked at him expressionlessly. Then her lips curled outwards in a satisfied, cynical smile that he didn't like at all. She had expected that her father would never abandon work hours to see her. It just proved that she wasn't that important at all. Not one bit.

"Of course not. Wrapped up in his work isn't he? What was his excuse?" she sneered.

"His secretary did not give one"

She shook her head and snickered softly. Her father was an asshole.

"I want to take a walk," she declared, hoisting herself off the bed in one motion and pulling her sneakers on, "I need to get out"

"You aren't allowed outside the house," her guard reminded her, strolling to block the room's exit as though a physical blockade would put her off the intention.

"Put a leash on me, then" she threw back, walking towards the door where he stood, "Where am I going to run to? The next-door neighbor so he can give me a lift?"

She was angry. He could sense it past the sarcastic exterior she'd put on to hide the hurt that the news had caused. As much as she hated her father, she'd at least expected him to express interest after keeping her alive. This had been a hit below the belt. Not only had Charles Bromley ordered somebody to take her life, he'd placed her into the prison of his own home and couldn't be bothered to visit.

Frankie had experienced this sort of rejection before and he knew the unacknowledged pain almost always transformed into rage. He could feel her fury like that of a bristling predator.

"I can't let you out," he spoke calmly, ignoring the dark flashes he saw in her eyes, "Even if you had the most logical argument"

"Fuck you," she snapped and shoved against him violently. The action reminded him of their interaction in the cell. Only that she'd been human then and her strength could never have rivaled what she had now. He actually staggered under the force and leaned onto the doorframe to regain balance.

She bared her fangs in a primal display of aggression and propelled her entire frame forward to knock him out of her way. He didn't budge. With a venomous growl, that surprised the both of them, she lunged and managed to squash the breath out of his lungs with her blow.

Caught by surprise, Frankie's grip on the doorway slipped for a moment, allowing her just the amount of slack she needed. Tackling the soldier, she used her momentum to bring him down onto the floor of the hallway.

The fighting instinct gripped Frankie harder than he expected as his back connected with the ground. He couldn't hold himself back. His fingers snatched the girl's wrists and he ripped her from her position as an attacker right onto his chest. Before she could think of reacting, he'd flipped them and brought her arms down to either side of her, never releasing his grip. If she could have bruised, her shoulders would have ached. His fangs had extended and all he felt was the need to be in control.

Alison thrashed underneath him like a panicked rabbit in the claws of an raptor. She managed to connect a knee with his thigh and land scratches on his hands, which pinned her, but she couldn't shake the weight off. It made it hard to regain his rational side enough to speak. She didn't present much of a threat but that didn't make her less of a fighter. However, that did nothing to alleviate the urge he had to hurt her into stopping right now. Preferably with his fangs.

"Listen," he hissed, speaking around the teeth, "Stop this drama or I'm going to have to tie you up and…"

He was going to add more warnings but was cut off when she brought her upper body off the ground and pressed her lips up flush against his.

Frankie felt himself go completely still in shock. This was the last thing on earth he'd expected her to do. Fight dirty, he could handle her trying that but what the hell was she doing now? His hands dropped from her skin and he automatically lifted himself up and away from her body to allow her space to back off. She didn't get the hint. Or didn't want to. Instead she followed him with her torso all the way, her hands fisting in his collar and keeping him close.

Her scent filled his mind but in a very different way than before. There was lust and passion where there shouldn't have been. His mouth hung onto hers eagerly and there simply was no stopping. His awareness expanded on its own accord and he was suddenly hyper-sensitive to the curve of her body against his and her skin tingling against his as their faces pressed together. Her touch had drifted downwards and even through his uniform, he could feel every finger running down to his hip.

Then it was gone.

Alison broke away, bringing just enough distance between them to haul out her arm and bash his own weapon against his head. The handle of the knife connected with his temple and he slumped sideways immediately. She knew too well that his vision was going black and a wildfire had exploded in his head.

She didn't let herself think about what she had done. She knew it was cruel and cheap to do this but how many choices did she have left?

Her anger gave her new bravery and that was all she'd needed as motivation. Her intentions had changed from walking off her frustration to getting out of here straight away. Spontaneous and snappy. He'd never seen it coming.

Leaping to her feet, she took flight down the hallway and was practically airborne as she cleared the staircase. The door had the key sticking in the lock and she ripped it out as she tore through. She smashed it closed and locked it to give herself another minute head start.

She saw a woman from the adjacent garden watching her with an affronted expression as she careened across the flowerbeds of the lawn. She saw the rainbow petals floating to the grass as she ran but couldn't bring herself to care. She needed to get to the road. Hitch a car. Track down a bus stop. Whatever it was, she needed to get onto a moving vehicle straight away and out of the district before Dalton caught up. She knew from experience that looking back only slowed down the escape so she kept her eyes on her environment, dashing along the road.

Why couldn't her father live in the city? If she'd gotten out onto the streets, there would have been no tracking her. In the hundreds of people heading to and from work, she could have made herself invisible within moments. Her feet pounded on the dark tarmac far too loudly. It deafened her in her adrenalin-heightened state. She reached the intersection at the end and cursed her luck. She didn't remember what direction they'd come from.

Opting for right because it was closest, she spurred herself on further. The properties flashed past her as though she was turning in circles too fast and her vision had gone blurry. She needed to find transport. At this rate she was too slow. Her captor could have a car at the ready for all she knew and he'd be on her back in minutes.

She didn't think at all about the fact that dawn would be breaking in less than a couple of hours. Somehow it hadn't registered yet that sun was just about as lethal to her now as it was to be tossed inside a furnace. Not like she had time to focus on that issue anyway. Her prime target was to distance herself from the vampire back in the house as much as possible, even if it was probably a losing battle.

She bounded across the road, trying to distinguish between dead-ends and crossroads as she sped past. Somewhere, there had to be the connective street that led to the main road. She allowed herself to pause for a moment, pressed against a house wall, to regain her calm. This franticness wouldn't get her anywhere. For a change, she blessed her ability to rationalize and assess quicker than a human.

From her position she could suddenly hear much clearer. The blood pounding in her head ceased and now every sound was amplified around her. There was a cat mewling around the corner, there was the steady rustle of leaves in the oleander bushes planted in a nearby garden and there were footsteps. No, more like pounding, hurried footfalls on the sidewalk. She bolted.

She made it exactly ten meters out of the shadows that the house had cast before she picked up the rapid increase in the footfalls behind her. Another twenty and she swore she felt the ground vibrating underneath her. She swerved wildly to confuse her pursuer then grabbed the nearest aid she could find. In this case, it was a hedge that circled around another perimeter of property. There weren't many paths left.

She couldn't look back. He was too close, she could feel him gaining on her. She needed help. Play the girl who was being chased by a psychopath or something. The option of running wasn't going to work anymore.

Vaulting over the bristly greenery was one thing but managing to locate another person to seek assistance from was the near impossible part. She prayed there was somebody home here. If whoever lived here was at work, she was screwed. Beyond screwed.

The leaves stuck to her hands and she could feel a trickle of blood in the centre of her palm where an unlucky thorn had lodged itself. Her body felt about ready to explode from the pressure of not knowing how this chase would end. Behind her, the snapping of branches alerted her to his pursuit. No. She wasn't letting this chance pass her by. She needed to be faster. She flew up to the back door, pounding her fists against the wood in a desperate rhythm.

"Please!" she screamed, "Please! Help me!"

The crunch of twigs and leaves under his weight came closer. Alison let out an anguished yell and punched the door with all the strength she could muster. "Open up damn it!"

But there was no one. No motherly woman pulling the door open in surprise, no handsome lawyer opening to remind her of the violation of the trespassing sign at the front, not even a family father who would be beyond shocked to find a panicked girl being hunted in his backyard. There was no rescue. She'd picked the wrong house.

She cursed. It was a bad habit she'd picked up. She cursed and thumped her hands against the door as though it was of use. Her hair flew into her face as she struggled against the hands that dragged her away from the house. She swore at him in every possible way she could think off, deluding herself that it had an effect. He gripped her around the waist with an iron arm and even though she clawed at the limb repeatedly, he didn't loosen it. His face could have been carved in stone.

The journey back to the mansion seemed so much shorter than before. Maybe it was because she had run in circles or because he knew the quickest path. She had never felt more pathetic than now. She'd barely managed to flee half a kilometer.

He hauled her through the front door without batting an eyelash as her side caught the frame squarely. She hissed on impact and repressed the telltale sound of pain pass her lips. The lady from the house next door had vanished. It occurred to her that she could have just asked her for help. It resulted in her feeling even more pitiful than before.

He threw her onto the couch in a gesture that betrayed his fury. If not at her, then at himself. She plucked the demon thorn out of her hand and watched the wound shed a little more blood. She licked her dry lips, thinking of the burning sensation it had left in her throat last time. Sort of like intense alcohol, she supposed. Pleasant at first, then leaving her sick and miserable.

Frankie reappeared in front of her after vanishing in the kitchen for a moment. She'd barely raised her face to him when she found his eyes inches from hers. She shied back instinctively, cringing in her position on the seat, fearing the ice in his gaze. Golden, chilling and unforgiving. He was hovering over her like a demon ready to pounce on an innocent soul and devour it. She couldn't swallow. There were no words for her to use to avoid punishment for what she'd just done.

There was a cold hand on her wrist, then a soft click as metal gripped onto metal. Alison didn't even need to look down to know she was handcuffed. She'd had nightmares about being cuffed and chained to a harvesting machine before. Fear ran down her spine with its feet like needles, digging into the sensitive nerves. The soldier leaned in closer, his face still neutral and ran a thumb along her cheek.

She stopped breathing. The contact was enough to let her know he had full control again.

"I think," he murmured, staring into her eyes, engraving his message on her widening pupils, "You really shouldn't have done that"