Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Bedroom

Had Alison not been so furious with everything that her life consisted of right now, she might have appreciated the patterns of shadow that the breaking dawn sketched across the neighborhood.

The watercolor hues that the morning light created in the darkness were beautiful, no doubt, but for her unreachable. She simply couldn't find anything positive about the sight. She half wished the night should come back because she couldn't be part of the day anymore.

Her new body opened her doors to actions that had been physically impossible for her as a human. It also forbade her contact with sunlight. It was incredible to feel such a craving towards a thing she'd witnessed every morning for many years without a second thought. Now it was a temptation. She wondered what was worse - to be changed early enough to not know the tingle of sunlight on skin or to have experienced it but be torn away through the transition.

She was sideways on her bed, facing the windows with her knees drawn up to her chest, her bound hands sheltered in the cavern between her abdomen and legs. The two single windows of the room faced her and she followed the rising light with narrowing pupils as the world grew visible. She hated how it pained her to look towards the horizon. She wanted to tear her eyes open and stare into the sun until she burned, just to triumph against this unwanted weakness.

That's why she unfolded from her position, as a soft, mechanical buzzing sounded close by. In a moment she was almost pressed against the window, which was slowly but surely obscured by the black shutters that were sliding down. The automatic timer had activated to protect the inhabitants of the mansion. She wanted to break the window and tear them away. Her desire to see the light again was so powerful that she felt the need to scream with frustration. But she didn't.

She watched, rigid, as the last slivers of glass were covered and the noises of the tiny motors responsible stopped. The world was back in black and it felt more isolated than it had been in her cell. How could nobody else find this feeling terrible? Being so close, a simple opening of a door away, from what had once been perfectly normal and now was a death trap. Had her life been a movie, she wouldn't have appeared ridiculous if she sank down on her knees and cried for the simple things she'd lost in only one insane week.

Reality was different. She was a vampire in a world of vampires where even considering such a useless emotional display was deemed a waste of time. She was meant to be detached from emotions, a logical thinker who set her priorities in line with blood and most definitely not feeling sorry that she couldn't face the sun.

This realization had her looking for distraction again. She didn't want to pine away for her human life. It didn't change the situation. She knew it was fruitless and she'd pretty much accepted that there was no turning back. It didn't make the hurt go away though. Maybe she couldn't express it well anymore, but it was inside her nonetheless and it pained her whenever she gave it attention.

She needed to look for an activity that didn't require thinking. She was tired of lying around. Tired of thinking back through her failed escape and picking out the parts that she could have changed. Creating possibilities of freedom in her head. Hours had passed and she hadn't gotten further than before.

But being cuffed didn't mean she was incapable. She wandered across her room, looking through the meek supply of book spines on the shelf. Every story she'd read at least twice and they were still in her head. She didn't have a computer and she figured that her father had removed internet access anyway to avoid her contacting anybody who could come to the rescue. Not that she knew anybody who did. Not anymore.

Months ago, the time she'd still been hiding out in Ohio with strangers who quickly grew closer than family, they'd stolen a phone to attempt to contact family or fellow runaways. She'd declined the option because there was nobody to call. She'd exchanged contact details then and there but they were no use to her now. Those people were all gone.

The pretty blonde Sienna White had shared her blanket with her when Alison had lost hers in a breakneck escape from a warehouse raid. She was snatched up two weeks later after trying to move up north in direction of Canada, heading for Alaska. The amount of blanket Alison had to herself increased after that.

Heath Garrison who'd first snitched her wallet only to meet and recognize her again in a safe house a few days later and hand it back shamefully, apologizing. She'd never begrudged him, knowing all too well how desperate one got after starving for a week. He'd barely used any, purchasing goods for a group of four from a provision camp. He was anything but selfish. In the end, it got him killed after he'd thrown himself in front of a fellow traveler during a fight with starving vampires. They vanished that night. A failed hero.

Even the New Yorker Nate Redford, whom she'd occasionally been more than a friend to, had been washed off the face of her world. Going out to gather supplies and not returning after twilight had long come and gone, he was presumed dead. Nobody should be out after dark. It was the time when vampires were the big and mighty ones. The time when the darkness was on their side. So it was probably true. She doubted he would abandon the group that had assembled in the cellars of what had once been a church. A group meant weapons, backup, food and safety. Herd animals worked the same way to stay alive.

That ruled out somebody else she may have contacted.

It was worse to realize that she couldn't feel much when thinking about the people she'd grown close to. Her memories were no longer linked to feelings such as hope, joy or longing. They were just fragments of an old life. People that she'd known. She cursed her father once again for taking this from her. Human beings she'd admired and appreciated more than him, were fading from her mind and her feelings for them were barely real anymore. Her previous life had turned into a dream. It was like recalling events out of a history books.

There were still the people who'd been gracious enough to take her along to the human enclave in their caravan not ten days ago. If any of them had survived or were still human and able to help her, she would readily start believing in miracles. But since four years, there had been no miracles in her life. No sudden extinction of this virus that had changed everyone for the worst. No reverting of the populations to human form. The danger hadn't disappeared, she'd only moved out of its radar.

Alison snapped out her daydream when her hearing picked up on something new. Clothing rustling, shifting, dropping onto a surface. Instinctively, she followed the sound. She only noticed later that she'd been moving like a predator, with strained shoulders, bent knees and rolling off the balls of her feet to minimize noise. As though she'd wanted to pounce on the source, which could only have been the other person in this house. She paused in her doorway, eyes trained down the corridor, careful to avoid the scrape of her cuffs against another. Conveniently, her gaze landed right on the target.

It was a sight that had her frozen in her position, not because it genuinely shocked her but because her head suddenly seemed to forget how to react to such a situation.

There was the skin of a bare back facing her from inside Frankie's room. His jacket was discarded on the covers along with the white shirt. Draping on top of the pile was a long white piece of gauze that he was rhythmically removing from his arm. She'd noticed earlier that he had removed the sling upon their arrival but the bandage remained. More and more material landed on the bed and she did nothing but hover and stare at the body that was being exposed to her.

It wasn't just the flexing movement of his muscles as he shook the arm out, stretched the limb and twisted it a few times to shake out the tension. It wasn't even the nasty bruising that covered the skin. Really she didn't know what had her so drawn to the sight. Maybe because it showed all too clearly that he wasn't just a cruel, indestructible figure, a soldier sworn loyal to her father, somebody she could despise as much as she wanted. He was a person. He had a body like hers under that uniform. He wasn't invulnerable just like her.

She realized that she hadn't come across another unclothed body in a long time. At least not a live body. A body that she had beheld with such interest.

Frankie's back arched forward as he leant on his arm, testing the threshold of pressure it could take again. His spine pressed against the skin and she focused on the drawing he had on his back. It was a tattoo that she hadn't paid attention to in her first shock but as he moved, the wings of the tribal creature filled her view and she zeroed in on the ink design. A bird of sorts, established from an arrangement of curving lines and shapes in black. Two wings reaching across the shoulder blades, the tail feathers curved downwards in a sloping, curve with its tip touching his central spine. She followed every single line on his back with her eyes, fascinated by their complexity, their lack of symmetry.

He moved again, taking up a fresh bandage and making quick work of wrapping it around his lower arm. She allowed herself to drift off again, looking at the base of his skull and the skin stretching over his neck to the head with the short hair. In pure flesh he looked almost more intimidating than with the army jacket on. Yet, she was taking in the image of him before her with everything else in mind but fear.

It was somewhat funny that he'd caught her undressing and now it was the opposite way around. Though she was more of a voyeur than him because she was purposely watching and wasn't turning away. Absently, she wondered if it was some sort of instinct to be so intensely drawn to another vampire. Maybe it was linked with her acute hate for vampires in general that made her want to observe them. Or just one in particular at the moment.

She studied the bird again. She wanted to know if he'd gotten it as a human. It was more likely. Vampires, it seemed to her, didn't find emotional importance in decorating their bodies. Vampires also had regenerated quickly. Maybe it was impossible to receive a tattoo once you were transformed because the ink could be seen as harmful by the body and the skin would automatically renew itself. She was curious.

"Why a bird?" she wondered aloud and the soldier turned his head in her direction without haste. So he wasn't surprised. He'd known she was standing there but had chosen to ignore it. Too late, she realized that she'd broken the mutual silence that had stood between them, which she'd determinedly held on to for the remainder of tonight. She knew it was wrong to hold a grudge because it was his job but it had brought her out of her self-destructive phase. Nothing would be sweeter than escaping from under his arms.

For the first time since she'd been removed from her prison and carted over here, she looked at the face of the man. Not the calculating eyes, not the vampire characteristics of the expression but the whole face. Since she was analyzing the entire body anyway, it didn't feel like she was betraying her vow to see him as an enemy rather than a friend.

He had a softer profile than she'd thought. His nose was not the perfectly straight shape she'd envisioned. Neither was the chin and mouth that of a statue. It was more suited for a sullen boy who'd grown up too soon. The large eyes just added to that picture. He pulled on his T-shirt again and faced her.

"It's a phoenix," he explained. At least he wasn't giving her the cold treatment anymore, "I had it done before. It didn't have any meaning then. A friend got one, I got one, I guess it was a mutual sign that we were tough. Not that we were real friends. Friendship was a fake word for the relationships I had when I was nineteen," he paused, looking down at the carpet as if it was a film of the past, "The phoenix was spontaneous. It looked good on paper so I got it. I only saw the connection when I joined this life. It was my sign for starting over as someone different"

She hadn't expected that much of a life story behind it but she didn't complain. For him it appeared unnatural to open up about himself so that he was actually talking from his own free will was a good sign. Not logical, but she didn't care to question it.

"Someone different? Why?"

He tore himself away from the carpet and shot her a glance that spoke of how irritated he was at her lack of knowledge. "Because I wasn't a very good human," he finally said, a cynical smile plastered on his face. She didn't like it. He didn't bother to appear genuine.

Alison reflexively raised her chin in retaliation to his tone and didn't even consider letting up. "What am I meant to get from that?"

"There's nothing to interpret. Just that who I am now and who I was as a human, are two very different people and that I prefer this one"

She hadn't realized that there was a self-observant side to him. Well, at least he could talk to her again without making it a threat or an instruction.

"I definitely prefer the human," Alison responded, thinking back to the life she'd led up till now and knowing there wasn't anything she would change. Apart from the being in constant danger maybe.

Frankie misinterpreted her words and laughed humorlessly, "He was nothing. The black sheep of the family. He could have been an orphan with all the attention he got from his parents. They didn't care for him if they could focus on their medicine-majoring son"

After a second of confusion, it clicked that he was talking about himself in third person. As though it was a completely different guy he was speaking of. As though that person had died. She hoped she wouldn't sound that way when speaking of her human days after a certain time.

"Well, I'm sorry about the way your life went"

His stance didn't change but his face smoothed out again and he just looked at her. She wished she could read the blank page that he pasted on his expression.

"Though I'd still prefer you human"

"You wouldn't," he stated with absolution and slipped back into his jacket, leaving it open. In the semi-darkness, his white shirt glowed compared to the rest of their clothing.

It made her sick with frustration to hear him constantly putting down the human race. Weirder even, it made her angry to listen to him put his human self down. Worst of all, she fumed at his assumption that he knew what she thought of him. That was the weakness that made her reckless.

"I bet you wanted the change because you were shit scared of becoming food. You didn't want to bother fighting it so you just became part of the winning team. That's the side I'd hate if I had known you"

He didn't let that sit on him. In a second he was out of the room and almost nose to nose with her. His calmness had fallen away to reveal the person that he was when his pride was attacked. She wasn't intimidated by his proximity anymore because she'd gone through this procedure several times now but she was well aware of his scent, which she focused more on than her sight in the absence of proper light. The house had switched off the lamps as soon as the shutters had closed, assuming that the inhabitants were asleep. The darkness wasn't a hurdle for their improved sight but everything was definitely less clear and defined than before. Her other senses were more alert than her eyes.

"Don't assume things that you have no idea of," he growled and his voice betrayed the wavering control he kept on his body. She felt his hands shake at his sides, could sense the tiny movements in the dark. He probably wanted to throttle her for her words, just like he could with all of her father's enemies.

"Don't assume you know what I think of you," she bit right back, staring into his gold iris' that were almost swallowed by his large pupils. "You say you weren't a good human. You make it sound like a profession. It's not something you have to or can be good at. It's who you are. So what if you're the one in the family that isn't the best. It's your life and you can make something out of it if you want to. You didn't have to die and become this to change"

He went pale. That muscle in his jaw twitched dangerously as he closed his eyes. It made him look like a furious ghost. She became very aware of her disadvantage in position. Her back against the doorframe, her hands cuffed and caught between their bodies so she couldn't raise them in defense. She was really in over her head playing with fire today. If he lost it now, she was dead.

But he didn't. He only pinned her with his eyes and if it was true that they were the window to the soul, even for vampires, then she saw the self-doubt he had in him at that moment.

"You have no idea who I am," he told her and his voice was a whisper like he wanted nobody else but her to hear them, "But you say all this… as if you'd known me then"

His sudden insecurity at her observations made her strangely glad. So he really had a side that was prepared to listen, to question, maybe to change. Again, he was back to human in her presence and she was pleased to hear him speak, for a moment, like he didn't know what to say anymore.

"I met many people while I was out there. A lot of them gave up running and tried to infest themselves so they wouldn't die. They were scared of death and honestly, I don't blame them. You're not that different. You thought it was a better way of life for you," she paused and her lips curved up mischievously at the corners, "I still don't know you, almost nothing about you. So you don't have to be worried that I'll go around the neighborhood telling your deepest, darkest secrets"

"I wasn't concerned"

He didn't return the smile but his lips twitched at the comment. There we go, almost a laugh, she congratulated silently. He leaned back, letting himself rest against the opposite side of the doorframe and tucked his hands in his pockets. With the movement away from her, any threat she'd felt coming from him, disappeared into thin air. All she sensed was a new level of companionship. Maybe not that close, but a mutual understanding.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd like to know you," she said, looking at the stitched-on Bromley Marks logo on his uniform, "I'm just not sure if you would want that"

Now he was confused, "Why?"

"Because you're my prison guard. So anything I know about you, I could use against you," she shrugged at his perplexed silence. A moment later, realized she was messing with him and raised an eyebrow at the sudden familiar tone she struck with him. As though she'd decided that they could be some form of friends, not constant, destined-to-be enemies.

"Good thing I forgot my diary at home," he quipped and she had to snicker as he adapted the same playful language she used on him.

"Lucky you"

And just like that, she'd broken the ice exterior and had wormed her way back under his skin. Deeper and more dangerously orientated than before. The trust was being established again and if she worked on gathering his weak points together one by one, she'd be out of here within the next week. This time, there wouldn't be any mistakes in her plan.