Note: Please see Prologue for warning, copyright and disclaimer information.

Healing

I drifted in an exhausted sleep, aware of the cold but unwilling or unable to do anything about it. A part of me knew why I was so tired, why I was so cold, but mostly I just shivered in the darkness of my mind.

Then I felt something warm and soft cover me and it seemed to bring me awake a little. I shifted on the bed and opened my eyes. I saw Mac and tried to smile. He was always doing nice things for me. I wanted him to lay down with me and warm my body with his, but instead he stepped back from the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. His voice seemed to come from a long way off.

"Tired," I whispered. I could only remember being that tired once in my life, but then the memory slipped away, leaving me confused.

"Do you need anything?"

What could I possibly need? He was here with me, which was all I'd ever wanted. I tried to sit up, but my muscles wouldn't cooperate. Mac motioned for me to stay lying down and I relaxed on the bed. I knew he'd keep me safe. But hadn't he asked me what I needed? "Coffee?" I heard myself ask him. "I'm really tired."

He looked down at me thoughtfully. "You've been using your blood, haven't you?"

How did he know that? He always seemed to know everything. "You've been talking to people haven't you?"

"Of course," he replied.

Wasn't there something I wanted? "Coffee?"

He nodded. "I will see what I can do."

I could hear him moving around in the room for several minutes, then the rich scent of coffee filled the room. My mouth began to water for the taste. I knew that it would help me wake up, help to clear the fog from my head.

When Mac came back to the bed, he helped me to sit up propped against the pillows. For a moment I worried about the towel, but he made sure I stayed covered. Not that it mattered, I could remember the feel of his hands on my body and suddenly I was very warm.

He tried to hand me the coffee, but for some reason I had no coordination. I almost dropped the steaming liquid all over myself, but Mac caught the cup before it fell. He lifted it to my mouth and I took a sip gratefully before I laid my head back against the pillows with my eyes closed.

I felt the bed move when he sat down beside me. After several long minutes of silence, he cleared his throat and I looked up at him.

"May I ask you something, Eliza?" His voice was soft and warm, just like I remembered, but his hands were chilled on mine around the coffee cup. Had he been outside? Was it winter?

"Sure." Of course, I'd tell him anything he wanted to know. This was Mac after all; I'd do anything for him. Wouldn't I?

"This evening when you were attacked," he gestured toward my left arm, and dimly I realized that it hurt, a lot. "Why did you not defend yourself?"

"Hmm." Attacked. I vaguely knew I'd been attacked earlier. "I did," I told him. I remembered raising my arm to block the blow.

"Why did you not defend yourself in your normal manner?" He seemed puzzled.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Spikes and knives and such," he explained.

That seemed funny somehow. "Stakes and knives and crossbows, oh, my," I said with a half smile on my face.

He waited for me to look up at him, then asked, "Why didn't you defend yourself, Eliza? You had weapons."

Weapons. Somehow they didn't really seem important, although a part of me was worried that I didn't have any within reach. I tried to ask Mac for one, but something else came out instead. "Where's the coffee?"

"You're holding it," he reminded me.

I was surprised at that, I didn't remember him getting the cup for me. I tried to lift it, but he had to guide my hands, I didn't have the strength. After I took a sip, I laid my head back down. The hot coffee warmed my stomach.

"Do you need blood, Eliza?" I heard him say through the exhaustion that pulled me down.

Blood. I'd used some, hadn't I? I remembered something about fighting, and a wound that had needed to be healed. I could feel pain somewhere in my body, but I knew I didn't have enough blood left to try and heal it. "Not enough," I mumbled aloud.

"Not enough what?" he asked.

I drifted, thinking how nice it felt to have him sitting beside me on the bed. I knew I must be sick, but that was strange because I usually don't get sick.

"Eliza?"

I turned my head to look at him, but it seemed too much of an effort to answer. I closed my eyes against the brightness of the room.

"Are you going to answer me Eliza?"

Had he asked me something? "About what?"

"Do you need blood?"

"Hmm," I replied wordlessly. I frowned a little, then whispered, "Be all right in a few days."

"But I need you well now," he protested. When I didn't answer, he added, "I have extra, Eliza."

I didn't understand what he was saying. "What?"

"Blood," he repeated patiently.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of drinking blood to replace what I'd spent. It would have to be vampire blood to do any good, and I didn't want to risk the addiction my foster mother had gone through. I never wanted to be like Linda, ever.

"I have extra," he repeated.

I was too tired to wonder what he had extra of that he thought I would need. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift.

"Do you need me to hold your coffee all day?" I heard him say.

I opened my eyes to see him smirking and holding a steaming cup of coffee. It sounded so good, how had he known that I wanted some? "Oh, thank you," I said gratefully. I tried to lift the cup, but I wasn't strong enough.

Mac lifted it and helped me take a drink. "Would you like something to help you sleep, Eliza?" he asked. "I have a few things that may make you feel better, herbs and natural medicines and such."

Feel better? I felt fine, just tired. Except, "Mac, why does my arm hurt?" I looked up at him, trusting that he would have the answer.

"We were attacked, luv," he told me softly.

There was something wrong with him calling me that, but I was too tired and in too much pain to figure out what. "Make it go away," I whispered pleadingly.

"Just a moment," he replied. "I have something." He got off the bed and I heard him rummaging through his bag for a few minutes. By the time he came back I was almost asleep again. "Open," he instructed kindly.

It took me a moment to process what he'd said, but eventually I opened my mouth. He put something on my tongue that was the size of a marble. I didn't know how he expected me to swallow it and would have told him that, but I felt the cup against my lips and hot coffee filled my mouth.

"Take a drink," I heard him say. I did. It felt like he was dumping coffee into my mouth, and for a moment I didn't think I could swallow it all. It was hot, and burned a path to my stomach. I pushed the cup away and laid my head back against the pillow. My stomach felt like it was on fire, but somehow I felt a little better. I could feel warmth flowing into my frozen limbs.

"Once more," he told me. He put another marble in my mouth and helped me to drink.

Once again I felt like he was trying to drown me. The taste was disgusting, and I grimaced. I pushed the cup away more firmly this time, gagging.

"'Tis a natural remedy, luv," he said softly.

"Nasty," I exclaimed. My entire body was tingling, as if all of it had fallen asleep at once and everything was just now coming back to life.

"But it will help," he assured me, then added under his breath, "I hope."

"Nasty," I repeated, looking up with a scowl. It wasn't hard to realize that I felt a lot better. "Do you not know how to make coffee?"

"I'm a little out of practice," he said apologetically.

"Yeah, I'm thinking you are," I told him, still wincing from the horrible taste. "Is there anything in here to get that nasty taste out of my mouth?"

"I believe I saw something in the fridge," he offered.

"Please, no more coffee." The taste on my tongue was almost enough to make me gag again. That was weird, because it hadn't seemed so bad just a minute ago.

"Perhaps the machine was unused in a while," he suggested. "I'll pour that batch out and try a fresh one." He walked over to the coffee maker and poured out the soured brew, then proceeded to make another.

While he was waiting for the batch to finish, I realized exactly what I was and wasn't wearing. I still had the towel wrapped around me, but he must have covered me with a blanket while I'd slept.

I pulled the cover up higher until it was almost to my chin, then felt disgusted with myself. He was a damn vamp, after all. He didn't care about my nudity or lack of it. He hadn't reacted even a little bit when he'd sewn me up a few nights ago, and then I'd been completely naked from the waist up.

Cormac came back with another cup of coffee and an apple. He handed them to me with a glance at the blanket and said, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, dear." As he walked across the room and added, "Granted it's been a while."

I looked at the apple and almost threw it at his retreating back. Then I felt hunger burn in my stomach and decided I'd be better off if I ate it instead. I took a large bite and the crunch echoed in the room.

"If you are still hungry after the apple," he told me, "there are a few other things in the refrigerator, cheese, crackers and such."

"I didn't say I was hungry," I objected around the apple. "I said I needed this nasty taste out of my mouth."

"Sorry," he murmured. "Homemade remedies tend to run a bit on the foul side."

I took a wary sip of the coffee and it tasted like ambrosia. "At least this coffee's a little better."

"Thank you."

"Practice," I suggested.

"As you wish," he said, settling down on one of the chairs in the room.

I glanced around, but there was no clock to be seen and my watch was in the bathroom. "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "Four-thirty."

"Damn, why did you let me sleep so long?" I exclaimed. I'd slept over four hours and it had felt like only minutes.

"Because last time I tried to wake you, you nearly staked me," he reminded me, "again."

Again? "When did I ever stake you?"

"You've tried, several times," he replied calmly.

"If I tried, I'd do it," I told him with a grim smile. "I don't miss."

"You keep saying that."

My eyebrow shot up at what I felt was a challenge to my abilities. "Would you like me to try?" I bit into the apple and held it in my mouth as I reached for the nightstand drawer.

"Not now, dear," he said firmly.

I stopped in mid motion and took the apple out of my mouth. "Maybe later."

"Oh, by the by, Eliza," he murmured, "did you happen to bring that photo album you had at your apartment?"

My eyes narrowed. He hadn't shown any interest in it then, why the sudden change of heart? "Why?"

"I'd like to look at it if I may," he admitted. "You offered it to me once."

"And you refused," I reminded him.

He shrugged lightly. "I was under a bit of stress."

He'd been under stress? I was the one who'd just killed a werewolf, I was the one with a new scar on my shoulder, I was the one who's life he'd invaded. Still, I remembered the look on his face before he'd walked out of the apartment that first time. I dropped my eyes and nodded. "It's in my suitcase."

"May I?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"Careful the sharp knife," I warned him. "It's likely to cut to the bone."

He smiled. "Careful the, ah, knife shaped object in a sheath, it is," he said, reminding me what he'd said to Jurgen about his sword earlier.

I watched him go into the dressing room and open the top of my suitcase. He picked up the towel and sat it and the knife aside. When he didn't see the photo album right away, he glanced at me in question.

"It's on the bottom," I told him.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached under the clothing and pulled it out. He brought it back into the bedroom and walked around to the other side of the bed where he sat down. He put the album on the bed between us and opened to the first page.

While I finished off the coffee and the apple, I told him about the pictures as he flipped through, starting from those of Corrine as a baby and ending with a photo taken only a few weeks ago. The pictures told the story of her life, of her time in ballet class, her school plays, her graduation from high school.

"Would that be Gene and Martina?" he asked the first time the older couple showed up in a picture.

"Yeah," I told him, not sure how he knew their names. "Those are the Wrights. They adopted Corrine."

"Yes." He continued leafing through the pages, lingering over the photographs and listening to every word I told him of our child.

I was only in one of the pictures with Corrine, one that had been taken at her graduation open house. We looked like sisters and I remembered that day with pride in her accomplishment. I'd been kicked out of high school for fighting and never gone back.

When he reached the last picture of our daughter, I had to stop myself from reaching for the album. "That's-that's it of Corrine," I told him, not really wanting him to see what else was in the book.

He glanced at me, but continued to slowly turn the page, watching my reaction. I bit my lip, but didn't say anything. The next two pictures were as much a part of his past as they were of mine.

The first one had always been special to me. It showed Mac and me at Jane Anderson's family cottage in the mountains of West Virginia. We were standing on the deck with the mountains behind us. I flushed when I remembered that it had been the morning we'd made love for the first time.

The picture on the opposite page had also been taken that weekend. Mac and Glenn had been horsing around near the cars, and Jane had snapped a photograph of them standing side by side. It had meant so much to me that they'd been friends. I'd never really been serious with Glenn, and he and Mac had been like brothers. Mac had understood that Glenn was my friend and it hadn't seemed to bother him at all that we'd remained friends.

"Glenn," Cormac murmured.

I frowned and looked up at him, startled to see recognition on his face. "You know, you keep saying you have amnesia," I said thoughtfully, "but then you keep saying things that make me doubt you."

"I have a good memory," he replied, turning the page to reveal several pressed flowers that Corrine had given me when she was a child.

My heart almost stopped when I realized what was on the next pages. "There's no more pictures in there," I told him, reaching for the book to take it away from him.

He started to turn the page anyway, but I blocked the movement with my hand. He really didn't need to see the daisies I'd kept if he didn't remember why I'd kept them.

"There's no more pictures in there," I repeated harshly.

"I don't mind," he told me.

I held my hand so that he couldn't turn the page. "I mind."

He looked up at me, but didn't press the issue. When he let go of the book, I quickly closed it and moved it onto my lap.

"There's no more pictures in here," I said again, softly this time.

"I believe you," he said honestly. "What is it that you're hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," I denied hotly. "I just don't think you need to look at everything that's in here." Why should I bare my soul to him? I couldn't think of one good reason to.

"What else is in there?" he asked again.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," I told him firmly.

"I liked you better before I fed you," he said quietly. When I shot him a questioning look, he gestured toward the nightstand. "The apple and the coffee."

I looked away. "Usually I'm more cranky when I'm hungry," I said apologetically.

"Really," he replied with a smile. "I hadn't noticed. Would you like me to put your book back? I will mind the sharp knife."

"No," I said quickly. "I'll put it back later." I set the book on the nightstand as if doing that would put it out of his mind.

"Very well." He shifted a little on the bed. "I have made arrangements for us to fly out at the beginning of tomorrow evening for Paris."

"Jax is bringing the plane back?"

"Yes, Jax will be waiting," he replied. "He will be accompanying us within the city because I do not speak French, but he does."

"Normally I'd complain about that," I muttered to myself, "but since Brenda doesn't like him, he has something going for him right there."

"I have also made arrangements for us to stay at a rather luxurious hotel while we are within the city," he added.

I glanced up at him. "Hopefully with more than one bed?"

"Yes, separate beds," he assured me. "A suite actually. The bedrooms will be separate. Jax will be staying in the hotel, either next door or across the hallway."

"Okay." Having a locked door between Jax and us made me feel much better about him staying in the same hotel. It didn't occur to me to think there should be a locked door between Mac and myself. "So," I asked cautiously, "were there any repercussions from our incident earlier this evening?"

When he sighed, I looked at him in surprise. "Actually, Eduardo phoned LA to inquire about myself and my… ghoul," he told me. "He received directions to phone Antonio, Brenda's sire. Have you met him?"

"No." I wasn't sure I wanted to, he had to be worse then Brenda.

"A rather charming fellow," Cormac said, almost rambling. "Distinguished gentleman, a Spaniard. Quite the person. Anyway, Eduardo spoke with him for some time, I gather, and Antonio filled him in on enough of the truths of our relationship."

I raised an eyebrow. "And how does Antonio know these truths?"

"Antonio was the acting primogen of LA," he explained. "He is one of the higher-ranking members of our clan within the states. He has knowledge of the contract. As he and Eduardo knew each other from before, Antonio felt he could trust Eduardo with the information."

Hell, did every damn Tremere in America know about the damned contract? "That still doesn't explain—" What exactly did this vamp I'd never met know about my life? "How far truths are you talking?"

"Enough that Eduardo knows that you are not my ghoul and we both still live," he said calmly.

"Interesting," I murmured. "Does this Antonio like you or something?"

"Apparently so," he replied thoughtfully. "Whether he is actually fond of me and my abilities, or is respectful due to the fact that his adopted daughter Christina, Brenda's sister, is ah…" he paused for a long moment, then continued with, "my sister, I don't know."

I frowned. "That's not your sister's name," I told him. Her name was Siofra, and I'd seen pictures of her, but never met her.

"Not my, ah, mortal sister," he explained. "Dougal's childe."

I don't know why that surprised me. "He was busy."

"He was asked to bring her into the family," Cormac added.

"Kicking and screaming?" I asked wryly.

"I was not with him on that mission," he said lightly. "Oh, which reminds me. What do you know of a Tremere named Lon?"

"Nothing," I answered truthfully, "should I?"

"No," he replied, almost sounding disappointed. "It is unimportant. I shall ask some of my other contacts."

I didn't really care about a vamp I didn't know, so I let it drop. "It's good that you didn't get into trouble about what you said to Eduardo earlier," I told him, "but when I asked if we were in trouble, I meant about the thing earlier than that, in the alley."

"No," he assured me. "Eduardo was pleased that we were both well, or at least alive. If anything arose, he will have it taken care of."

"Okay, well that's good," I replied, glad that we wouldn't have to be concerned about repercussions from the attack. Then I thought about the poor girl lying there dead and I got mad. "It's nice when you can blow someone away in an alley and walk away and not worry about it."

"It was self defense," he reminded me, his voice too calm for my liking. It didn't seem to bother him that he'd killed the woman, she was just another human to him, part of the herd. I couldn't help but wonder just how many humans he'd killed in cold blood like that.

I sat up abruptly, needing to get away from him. From the corner of my eye I saw him turn his head to give me privacy in case the towel slipped. I wrapped the blanket around my body and stood carefully, making sure I had the strength to balance myself before I let go of the bed.

"I'm just gonna go get some clothes on," I told him, walking over to the dressing room. I grabbed undergarments, jeans and a tank top, then went into the bathroom and closed the door. When I was dressed and returned to the bedroom, he was sitting at the desk.

I stood in the doorway and looked around the room for a minute. "Are there any other extra blankets or pillows or anything else in here?" I asked him. "Did you notice?"

He glanced up. "No, I didn't actually go through the closets. Why?"

"Well, you know, one bed, two people."

"You can have all of the blanket and pillows," he told me, "and the bed if you wish."

I shook my head stubbornly. "I'll make a bed over here on the floor."

"You may have that bed if you wish, Eliza," he repeated. "As I said I sleep like the dead."

Thanks for the reminder, Mac. As if I could forget. "I wouldn't want to trip over you on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the day, either," I said aloud. "I'm assuming it's going to be dark in here?"

He looked around. "I don't see any windows. I guess you wouldn't want me to sleep in the bathtub, would you?"

Yeah, I could just see that. Contrary to popular fiction, vampires could and sometimes did wake during the day. "No," I said firmly. "I don't think so."

"Well, so are you taking the bed or not?" he sounded impatient, as if he were angry that I was refusing the bed.

Too bad, I much preferred the floor. "No."

"Suit yourself," he murmured.

"Sure." Although if I suited myself, would I be here with him now? Would I?

He lifted all of the pillows from the bed except one and stood there looking at me. "Where would you like them?"

"You know, I can do this," I told him impatiently. I took the pillows from him and walked over near the bathroom door where I threw them down. The ache in my arm irritated me, but I knew it would be all right in a few days. "Think you've given me enough pillows?"

"I don't need them," he replied. "Good to see you're feeling better."

"Yeah," I said thoughtfully as I bent to arrange the pillows on the floor. I'd been really out of it earlier. "What was that you gave me anyway?"

"A holistic medicine," he said softly.

"Well, whatever it was it seems to have done the trick," I admitted with a shrug. "Although I don't know if it was the coffee that was nasty, or whatever it was that you gave me."

"Probably a combination," he replied.

"Yeah." I rose and turned to find him standing next to me with his arms full of blankets. I took them and spread them awkwardly, favoring my injured arm.

I tried not to watch while he stripped to his pants and undershirt, but he didn't seem to notice me looking. As he was getting into bed, I returned to the nightstand and retrieved the book I'd left there, along with the remains of my snack and the stake in the drawer. I put the photo album back in my suitcase, then rinsed out the cup and threw the apple core in the waste bin.

When I bent to put the stake under one of the pillows on the floor, Cormac warned me that I might roll over on to it in my sleep. I smiled to myself. "I've been sleeping with a stake for twenty years, I've never rolled over onto one yet."

"There is a first time for everything," he told me.

"I think if that were going to happen, it would have a long time ago." I glanced around the room, but the only thing left to do was turn out the light. I did so, then made my way carefully back across the darkened room and laid down on my makeshift bed.

It was unnerving to be this close to him and still so far away. When he was human…. But he wasn't human anymore, he was a vamp. I had to keep reminding myself of that or I'd really be in trouble. Actually, it was already hard to keep telling myself he was a black hat. He kept doing things that reminded me of the Mac I'd loved so long ago, even though he didn't remember much of it.

I could feel that dawn was close and although I was very tired, I knew I couldn't sleep, not yet. Something that Cormac had said earlier, something he'd left out of his account of the raid still bothered me. I knew I had to ask him about it, even though I wasn't sure he'd tell me. If he didn't then he didn't, but either way I knew I had to ask.

"Mac?" I said quietly.

Just when I thought he was dead for the day, he answered me. "Yes?"

"What—" I stopped, unsure what to say. Hell, there wasn't any way to ask but to just do it. "What was it like when Dougal bit you?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asked slowly.

Did I? Yeah, I guess I did. "Well, you didn't-didn't fight him," I said warily. "You almost looked like you liked it, most people do when they're bit. What was it like?"

"At first I did fight it," he told me softly, "but it has a power within it, a calming property. And when I thought you were dead I welcomed the rest."

His embrace. I felt tears fall from my eyes toward my hairline, but somehow I kept the emotions from my voice as I tried to concentrate on what he was telling me. "Calming property?" I'd never felt anywhere near calm with Kindred fangs in me. Never.

"It creates a sense of… serenity," he explained.

I didn't understand. Every time I'd ever been bit I felt only pain and anger at the attack. "I've been bit before," I said in a low voice, "and I've never felt like that."

"It might have something to do with your blood," he said thoughtfully, "or possibly the emotions with which you are being bit. As I said, our planned embrace was an alternative to being outright killed."

"I've been bit more times than that," I murmured, remembering the two other vamps who'd bit me.

"Good morning," Cormac said in a weary voice. The room fell silent.

"Mac?" I called softly. When he didn't answer me, I knew the sun had come up.

I sat up and leaned against the wall, staring toward the bed that I couldn't see in the darkness. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to understand what Cormac had told me about the bite that Dougal had given him. Could there really be that much difference in what the victim felt based on how the vamp intended the attack?

I'd never understood why blood dolls and ghouls kept coming back for more to the vampires that drained them, but if it felt as nice as Mac said, that was probably the reason. Would I have felt that way if the girl had been kinder that night in Baltimore? Somehow I didn't think so. Luther had made it clear that his feeding was to punish me, and the Brujah who'd bit me in Salem had been convinced I would like his 'kiss.' I definitely had not enjoyed any of them.

I shook my head. I could go crazy wondering about the whole thing. I wasn't likely to take a bite from a vamp without a struggle, so I'd probably never know the serenity that Cormac had described. For a heartbeat I wondered what it would be like to be 'kissed' by him, then I forced the thought from my mind. I wasn't here to feed him; I was here to help him get his memory back and that was all I was here for.

Abruptly I remembered the feel of his fingers on my calves, his hands rubbing my foot. I got goosebumps all over again just thinking about it. How could I have responded that way to him so quickly? Hell, he's a vamp, I reminded myself. He's a blood-sucking fiend, no longer human, no longer the man I loved. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself, anyway.

There in the darkness with his corpse on the bed, I finally faced the truth. I still loved Mac, my heart didn't care if he were human or mage or Kindred. I still loved him and I still trusted him to keep me safe from harm. I didn't understand how I could feel that way after a lifetime of hating vampires, but it was true just the same.

Did he really remember how much he'd loved me? If he did, where did that leave us? He'd asked me to give him a chance, give us a chance, but that had been days ago and he hadn't brought it up since. What exactly did he want from me?

Well, it wasn't likely that he'd tell me now. The sun was up and he was out of it for the day. I wiped my tears and laid back down on the pillows, but as tired as I was my eyes refused to close.

Through all of my restless thoughts, I kept thinking I should be hearing Cormac breathe. Each time I found myself waiting for his next breath, I called myself ten times a fool. He was a damn vamp, he didn't breathe, he would never breathe again.

Finally I fell asleep, though I would have sworn it wasn't for long. The nightmare woke me an hour before dusk. After a long time I got up and flipped on the bathroom light, then turned toward the bed. It was so unnerving to see him lying there completely motionless.

Despite the dangers of getting close to a sleeping vampire, I walked over to the bed and studied his face in the light spilling from the open bathroom door. He looked so peaceful, and if it hadn't been for his absolute stillness, I could almost pretend he was merely sleeping. I sighed, and the sound seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Abruptly I shook my head and strode quickly to the bathroom, where I showered and dressed with care. When I returned to the bedroom, I piled the pillows and blankets on the floor near the bed and repacked my suitcase in the dim light. I knew I could have turned on the overhead light and not bothered Cormac, but somehow it didn't feel right.

I was just tidying up the bathroom when I saw the light go on in the bedroom. I peeked my head out and saw that Cormac was up. "Oh, the sun must be down."

"Yes," he replied as he walked toward the dressing room to pack his suitcase. "Will you be long?"

"No," I told him, turning to gather the few toiletries left on the sink. "I'm almost done. I was just waiting for you."

I returned to the bedroom and threw the rest of my belongings into the carryon bag while he went into the bathroom to change. When he returned I noticed that his shirt wasn't quite buttoned all the way. I saw water in the hollow of his neck, and quickly looked away when I found myself wondering what it would taste like.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked as he pulled on his figure-eight holster.

"Kind of," I replied absently, trying not to watch him put on his guns. Once again I didn't like the reminder of how much he'd changed, even though those guns had saved my life last night.

He straightened and looked at me. "Kind of?"

"Yeah, kind of," I repeated resentfully. "It's hard to sleep when you keep having the feeling that someone else should be breathing and they're not." I didn't mention that I'd had the nightmare again and had woken staring a long time into the silent darkness listening for intruders before I'd finally remembered where I was.

"Sorry," he said, almost sounding like he actually meant it. "Would you like a pet? Something to breathe with you?"

I shook my head and looked away. "No, I don't do well with pets. Generally, I don't play well with others anyway," I admitted.

"Did you get all your stakes back?" he asked when he'd finished getting ready.

"Yeah." There had only been the one I'd put in the nightstand by the bed and I'd slept with that one.

"Good."

I leaned against the wall, silently watching him gather his things together and place them in his suitcase.

"Feeling… normal?" he asked.

"Almost." I still needed a couple more nights before I was completely back to normal, but at least I could fight again if I had to.

"That is good," he said with some satisfaction.

"I'd still like to know what the hell you gave me last night," I told him. Whatever it had been, it had certainly brought me up to speed much faster than I could have done naturally.

"It's a little something I carry with me."

Now who was being vague? "Do you normally travel with humans who get sick?" Not that I was human, right? But you don't us the word 'Dhampyr' lightly in a Tremere chantry, especially when they don't know what you are.

"It works equally well on those of my kind," he explained. "An all around sort of cure."

I glanced at my watch, eager to be gone from this room. "Are you ready yet?" I still felt very much caged, and wanted some fresh air.

"Yes." He picked up his things as I gathered mine and opened the door for him.

"You first," I offered. "If I walk out first, they might think I'm alone." I did not want to have to fight anyone this early in the night.

I followed Cormac through the halls and about halfway down to the car, a ghoul approached him and offered to take some of his things. Cormac gave him the large duffel bag and the sword, cautioning the ghoul about the later. We continued without interruption until we reached the entry hall, where we saw Jurgen.

The vamp met us halfway across the room and said his good-byes to Mac. A few minutes later we were outside waiting for the car, which was brought around rather quickly.

We packed the luggage in the trunk and got inside. A glance in the backseat showed the crossbow exactly where I'd left it. Cormac drove to the airport and we sat in the first comfortable silence we'd shared since he walked up to me at Guilty Pleasures.

Jax had the plane waiting for us in the same hanger we'd arrived in. He helped us carry everything on board and when we were ready to go he asked us to be seated and put on our seat belts.

That takeoff bothered me more than the last one had, probably because I wasn't as worried about being alone with Cormac as I had been two nights ago. I told myself it was normal to be nervous, it was only my second flight, after all.

When we'd reached our cruising altitude, Cormac pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After a short pause, he said, "Corrine, it is Cormac, just calling to check in, see how you are faring in our absence. Call if you'd like to, you have my number."

He hung up the phone and I could feel his eyes on me. I looked up to see him studying me thoughtfully.

"Now that you have your wits more about you, Eliza," he said softly, "you never did tell me why you were not fighting back."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"When we were attacked in the alleyway," he replied. He watched me like a hawk, as if he thought I would lie to him, or simply refuse to answer the question.

"Okay," I murmured resentfully. "I don't remember you being attacked in the alleyway." So I was avoiding, it wasn't the same thing as lying.

"Anyway," he growled irritably, "you had none of your weapons drawn."

I didn't understand why he was so upset about that. "Why would I?"

"Someone was trying to harm you," he said as if that explained everything.

"She was human," I told him simply. I don't kill humans if I can help it. "And I was defending myself."

"She was more than human," he said reproachfully. "Look at your arm."

I didn't have to look to feel the injury. It felt a lot better today, but it still wasn't completely healed. "I'm still not sure how that one happened," I muttered darkly.

"Tell me, Eliza," he prompted thoughtfully. "What other abilities did you gain from your—" My hand went inside my jacket, but I hadn't yet touched the stake when he corrected himself. "Kate?"

"What do you mean, abilities?" I asked, playing dumb. If he didn't remember, I wasn't about to tell him what I could do. It was stupid, but I felt that gave me an advantage in our relationship, the only one I felt I had.

"Well, you obviously have the enhanced strength, as such," he told me. "What about Auspex, Thaumaturgy, Domination?"

Auspex was what allowed me to heighten my senses and see auras. I could also make people to do or believe what I said, but I only used that power when I had no other choice. Thaumaturgy was a form of blood magic, or so Kate had told me, but one I'd never tried to develop. It had been Auspex and Dominate that had caused me problems in high school.

"Well, ah," I stuttered, not wanting to admit anything I didn't have to. "I don't know."

"Did you see the girl's aura?" he asked pointedly.

The way things were going, he'd eventually learn or remember that I saw them anyway, so, "Yeah."

"And?"

"Well," I said slowly, "she was human until she picked the piece of wood up."

"And when she picked the piece of wood up?"

I shrugged. "Then she got all funny looking, kinda like…." I thought for a moment, remembering. "Okay, kinda changeling-sorcerer-priest thing."

"You are still convinced she was human?" he demanded softly.

"Well, she was 'til she did that," I told him firmly. "You know, and I really don't have anything against mages or changelings, most of the time. Or priests."

"So she was human until she changed," he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah." I wondered where he was going with this line of questioning. I didn't have to wonder long.

"So was I," he reminded me rationally. "You have something against me. Why were you not—"

"You don't change back and forth," I said crossly. "You can't blink and become human again."

"Why were you not defending yourself?" he asked again, plainly irritated with me.

"I don't know what you think I was doing," I answered quite honestly, "but I was defending myself."

He looked at me for a moment, then apparently decided to try a different approach. "Why were you not attacking back?"

I looked away and sighed. That was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? I'd defended myself when she attacked, but I hadn't pulled either of my weapons, or even struck out at her once. If she really had been human, I wouldn't have needed a weapon to kill her.

"You know, she was obviously a hunter of some sort," I reminded him unnecessarily. "To most people who can see that type of thing, I look like a ghoul, even though I'm not. And you know, hey, ghoul, hunter, dead ghoul. That's usually the way it turns out."

"So you're saying you should not be damned for what you are, or appear to be?"

I could see where he was trying to go with this, but he was way off base. "No," I said, plainly stating what I felt was the obvious. "I am damned for what I am. That being the case, who am I to-to kill her for defending her race?" Deep down I felt that the hunter had been right to try to kill me, that I deserved to die for what I was, what I always would be.

My logic or lack of it seemed to puzzle him. "She was trying to kill you."

"Which only makes sense, because of what I look like," I replied patiently. "She didn't kill me."

"She could have," he reminded me.

I didn't need the reminder of how close I'd come to dying; I knew that if Cormac hadn't shown up the woman would have killed me. I'd never lived in fear of death, and I didn't intend to start now. "So can any number of things that go bump in the night. The plane could crash."

"The plane is not actively trying to end your existence," he said irritably.

"Are you sure?" I asked with wide-eyed innocence. "It could be haunted."

He gave a frustrated growl low in his throat and just looked at me.

I shook my head and let my own anger rise. "I know she was trying to kill me, it was pretty obvious. But it makes sense, you know, I look like one of the black hats. So who am I to decide she should die just because I look like a bad guy? Who am I to end her life when by all rights I should be helping her?"

After a moment, he nodded slowly. "I merely asked."

"I merely answered," I replied, my voice cold.

"And then some," he added irritably.

"You did ask," I reminded him, feeling more than a little irritated myself. "I did try to avoid the subject and you did continue to pry. So now that I see you really haven't changed much in the last twenty years, can we move on to another subject?"

"I was just wondering if I was going to have to defend you every time we were attacked," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Only if we're attacked by slayers." I said sarcastically, then added grimly. "I can defend myself, thank you very much."

He just smiled smugly. "How's your arm?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. I knew he was right, my arm still hurt and the bruising was turning some very interesting colors that I hadn't seen since I first learned the right way to hunt alone. He was right, damn him. What would Corrine do without me? No matter how I felt about slayers and my damnation, for her sake I had to do more than defend myself if we came across another of this new breed of hunters. For her sake, not because it was important to Mac.

After some time of angry silence, Cormac pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number on it. He left a message for someone, mumbling something about a noble cause and asking the person to call him back when they awakened, leading me to believe he was trying to reach another vamp.

When he'd hung up from that, he quietly reloaded his guns. I tried not to watch, finding a magazine and leafing through it blindly. I'd never been much for guns, I always felt they gave the shooter an unfair advantage and preferred to be closer to my enemy. I didn't know why his guns bothered me so much, but they did. It wasn't as if he hadn't owned one before, hell, he'd tried to teach me how to use one more than once.

After a while Cormac got up and walked into the kitchen area of the plane. I heard him open the refrigerator and wondered if he was drinking from the blood bags I'd seen in there the last time we'd been on the plane. I couldn't help but study him when he came back into the cabin, trying to see any difference in his coloring, but I really couldn't tell. When I noticed that he'd seen my questioning look, I lowered my eyes back to the magazine.

He sat down and fell almost immediately into a meditative state. I tried not to watch him, but my eyes kept going to his face. I kept telling myself not to be stupid, but my self wasn't listening.

I spent some time thinking about what he'd said earlier. He'd had a point, he had been human until he changed, why was I so set against him now? It wasn't as if he'd sought to become a monster, or even remembered how anti-Kindred he'd once been. He was existing as best he could considering what he'd been told by Dougal, but he didn't actually seem that much different from the Mac I remembered.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to realize that spending time with Mac was good for me after all. The longer I was with him, the more I felt like he was healing a part of my soul that I had thought damaged forever. He didn't condemn me for the choices I'd made about Corrine and the contract, and he didn't think I was evil for following the terms of that contract, not that I'd actually had a choice once I'd signed the damn thing.

Being with him also made me rethink my views of myself. How was I any better than Jax, or Rafael, Brenda's boy-toy? All three of us had Kindred blood inside; it didn't matter where it came from. I'd meant what I had told Cormac earlier, I was a black hat. I had no more right to judge them than I did to kill the hunter in the alley. How could I hate an entire race just because Kate had been a bad mother?

I wondered what Corrine would think if she ever found out exactly what her father now was. I remembered my promise to prevent her from following the path we'd taken. Somehow I had to get rid of this hatred of Kindred from my heart, this hatred of myself. If I didn't and Corrine ever learned the truth about vampires, I'd never be able to hide it from her and I'd never be able to explain it without making her want to destroy them too.

I wouldn't let my daughter take up hunting and die young just because I hated Kindred. I couldn't.