It was a combination of things that woke her. First, the buzzing, increasing slowly. There was no-one living near her house; that was why she'd chosen it. She shouldn't be hearing anything. Her sluggish brain refused to wake properly, however, until she heard the dog barking.

Her eyes opened. She was on the porch, and the stray was in front of her, barking at the darkness. She could feel them out there, she just couldn't see them. Her weapon was inside, along with her pepper spray, on her belt. She started to move towards the door to grab them when she heard the unmistakeable noise of a gun being cocked.

"Stay right where you are, Sheriff."

She knew the voice, but she couldn't place it. Then he stepped out of the darkness. Marcus Diamond, one of the part-time deputies.

"What do you want, Diamond? And why the hell have you pulled a gun on me?" she demanded.

He smiled, an ugly, slimy thing that looked like it could just slide right off his face. Then Walter Sykes stepped out of the darkness behind him.

"Hello, Sheriff."

"Walter," she said, calmly. But she felt anything but calm. She should have listened to Claudia.

"My buddy Marcus and I have been talking, and we decided it was time we had a little chat with you," he drawled. She couldn't hear his thoughts but she could feel the emotions that accompanied them. They were pulsing, black and red and greasy, and it made her feel ill just to be near him. Marcus' mind was different – cold, calculating with an odd overtone of red heat that she didn't understand.

"Yeah? And why is that?" she asked, hoping for more time, for someone to come by, maybe. Then she realised how stupid that was. She chose this house because there was no-one nearby. And no-one had ever come by apart from the stray dog who was in front of her, growling, and the vampire.

"Well, we have been talking about how Mrs Frederic hired an out-of-towner like you as Sheriff, instead of hiring someone better qualified, someone who knows this town, who's been here for a long time."

"Someone like you?" she asked, her voice calm.

"Yes, someone like me. Not some uppity bitch who thinks she's better than us!" he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Well, that sounds like something you ought to take up with Mrs Frederic. After all, she hired me," she said, conversationally. Her mind, however, was racing. She didn't need to read his mind to know what he had planned for her.

"Yes, I think that we might just do that, once we've finished with you," he said, threateningly.

"And what is it, exactly, that you hope to accomplish here, Walter? I couldn't give you my job even if I wanted to."

"It's not just about the job, Sheriff. I owe you. You broke my nose."

"You deserved that, Walter. You couldn't keep your hands to yourself," she said, warningly. She remembered, suddenly, that her cell was in her back pocket. She was trying to remember how the thing worked, if there was a way to make a call without attracting their attention.

"Well, now I don't have to."

He started walking towards her, his tall companion silent next to him. She put her hand in her back pocket and pressed the call button a few times, remembering that it would dial the last number she'd called. She couldn't recall, just then, the last time she'd used it. Maybe it would call someone useful. Or maybe she was about to get raped and murdered. It didn't seem like there was much she could do about it, either way.

The dog started barking more and more loudly. She tried to shoo him away, but he was set on defending her. She watched helplessly as he jumped at Walter. Marcus shot the stray in the chest without changing expression, and the dog fell to the ground with a yelp that trailed off into a whine. Tears blinded her. He was just a sweet dog, trying to help her.

Walter reached the porch.

"You could save yourself a lot of trouble, Sheriff, and just give in. Who knows, you might enjoy it," he said, smiling arrogantly.

She stood where she was, giving him a level look. He came closer and she twisted away. He tried to grab her and she turned, snapping her elbow back, hitting him in the face.

"You broke my fucking nose again, you bitch!"

She was surprised by the vengeful glee that filled her at that statement. But it didn't last, because Marcus had reached her and he didn't give her a chance to defend herself. He hit her hard, the butt of his gun coming down on the side of her face. Something snapped – her cheekbone, she thought, idly. Her mind was oddly detached, probably from the force of the blow. When she fell to the ground on her side, he started kicking her. His first few kicks were to her body, and she distinctly felt ribs break. Something in her abdomen felt wrong, too. He kicked her in the jaw, then the throat, and her breathing started to come in a harsh gurgle. He must have been wearing steel toed boots. She was pretty sure her jaw was broken. She was also pretty sure she was starting to drown in her own blood.

Walter had recovered enough from his broken nose to grab her, turn her on her back and was now attempting to remove her pants. The pain he caused by moving her body alone made her vision dim at the edges. She couldn't move, but something caught her eye. The dog – his body – it was shimmering, glowing slightly in the darkness. It turned into the naked and bleeding body of Pete Lattimer. She figured she was hallucinating, and hoped that it meant she was going to die now, before Walter got his kicks. She closed her eyes.

There were noises, suddenly; cracking and splintering, wet noises. Then she was being cradled gently in strong, thin arms. She tried to cry out - the pain was indescribable, but she could only cough wetly as the vampire moved her. Her broken ribs scraped painfully against each other. She couldn't breathe. Then there was a strange taste in her mouth – metallic, dark, cool. She swallowed convulsively once, then again. It made her feel better. She could breathe again. She swallowed again. Her chest didn't hurt so much anymore. The wheezing quietened and stilled.

She was vaguely aware of water on her skin, then she was laid gently on her bed, wearing pyjamas that she didn't remember putting on. When she tried to speak, a cool voice told her to rest. It went away for a while, the voice, and she whimpered quietly at the loss. Then it was back, and she was content again, in the stillness. The arms cradled her and the voice soothed her.

"I am so sorry I left you, my darling. You are safe now."

She was safe. She slept. She slept in the arms of death, and it cradled her like she was precious.

The next morning she woke late. It was almost noon. Thankfully, it was Saturday, and Steve was on duty at the station. She didn't remember, for a moment, what had happened the night before. She felt well, and rested. Strong. Then the memory of what had happened returned to her in a rush. She was dying, and then she was in her bed. And a dog, that turned into Pete Lattimer? That had to have been a hallucination. She ran to the back yard, but it was empty. There was no blood, no bodies. The deck was scrubbed clean. Much cleaner than it had ever been.

She returned to her bedroom and found another note.

Sheriff

I do not know how much you remember of the events of last night. Please do not call your station or make any reports for now. Please first call your colleague Peter. He will be able to tell you what happened, and answer your questions. I will be with you as soon as the sun sets.

Yours

Helena

Helena's words made her feel better, suddenly. She remembered how peaceful she felt the night before – at least, before she had driven the woman away with her thoughtless comment. She couldn't make her fragmented memory of the night before into any sensible sort of narrative. She decided to take Helena's advice. She called Pete Lattimer.

"Sheriff." He sounded cautious, unsure.

"Pete. I…do you know what happened last night?"

There was a pause.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

The line went dead.

He was as good as his word. He knocked quietly and she let him in, gesturing for him to sit down. His brain was buzzing against hers. She'd never seen him in any context other than at work. He looked strange in her house, too big, somehow. He was wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt with the logo from some sci-fi show on it. She was still in her pyjamas. Normally, that would have bothered her, being so vulnerable in front of one of her deputies, but she was too confused right then to care.

"Pete. Why do I have a note asking me to call you?"

He was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked uncomfortable.

"How much do you remember, Sheriff?" he asked, not meeting her eyes.

"I was sleeping on the porch, and Marcus Diamond and Walter Sykes came out of the woods behind the house. They pulled a gun on me. There was a stray dog – he comes around sometimes, and he tried to defend me. Marcus shot him. I broke Walter's nose, and then Marcus beat the crap out of me. I think…I think I was dying. Walter was going to rape me, he was pulling down my pants. Then I saw something strange, but I guess it was a hallucination. And after that, I don't remember anything."

Her tone was flat, dispassionate. Like when she was describing a crime scene on the stand. Or talking about her father. Pete winced more than once during her emotionless recitation of her memories.

"So that's what I remember. Now, tell me. What do you have to do with all this? Why was I told to ask you?"

She looked at him closely, and after a moment, he met her eyes.

"What you saw, Sheriff. It wasn't a hallucination. It was…me. I was the dog. I'm a shifter; I can become any animal I want. I know it's kind of hard to believe, but I can show you if you want."

She narrowed her eyes and nodded. He stood up and turned his back, stripping his clothes off swiftly. As is had the night before, his body glowed hazily and his outline became liquid. After a moment, her stray dog was sitting in his place.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. This…this was just too weird. Said the telepath who had spent the last three nights talking to a vampire. She shook her head wonderingly.

"Okay, so you're a shifter. Are you the reason I keep getting called to the woods for panther and bear sightings?"

The dog looked at her and whined. He made an unmistakeably human gesture then, shaking his head.

"Are there others like you?"

He whined again. She took that to mean that he didn't know.

"You can switch back now, if you want. I'm going to make some coffee."

She went to her small kitchen and busied herself with the small ritual of making coffee. The machine was probably a hundred years old, but it made good coffee. After a moment, she felt Pete Lattimer's thoughts return. They were different when he was in his dog form, smaller. She wondered idly if his thought patterns changed depending on what animal he became. His mind glowed redly. It always had, she'd just never noticed it before. That must be what shifter minds felt like. Strangely warm. She felt like she should be remembering something about a mind like Pete's, but it was all distant, like she was seeing it through a haze.

She poured two cups of coffee, fixing them with creamer and sugar. She knew how Pete took his coffee; that sort of detail was always important when you worked with someone.

She brought in the coffee and handed it to him wordlessly. He looked tired, more drained than he was when he arrived.

"Does it take a lot of energy to change?" she asked, sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and worried.

"Yes. It makes me tired, to do it twice in a short time, like that. I try not to shift too often unless I have to. But I figured you'd need to see it."

She nodded. She wouldn't have believed otherwise, even after seeing it last night. It was too easy to write off as a hallucination.

"So you're my stray dog."

He winced at that.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn't spying on you or anything. I just wanted to keep you safe. Mrs Frederic asked me to watch over you. She was worried that something was going to happen."

Myka lifted an eyebrow at that.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Someone she knows, they have a gift. They can see stuff that might happen, sometimes."

"Precognition?"

He shrugged.

"I guess. But it seems like they were right this time. You would have died last night, if…" He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

"If?"

"You really don't remember?"

"I really don't. What I do remember is that you were shot, and I was beaten badly. I thought I was going to die. I don't understand how we're sitting here now."

He studied her carefully.

"Your friend. The vampire."

"Helena?"

"Yeah. She said you called her phone, and she heard them threatening you, heard them hit you. It took her a while to get here. She was pretty far away – she was beating herself up about that, about leaving you. But she…when she got here, she took care of Marcus and Walter, and she gave you her blood. Vampire blood heals."

Myka gaped. Helena saved them?

"She gave some to me – only a little, though. Shifters heal fast. But I would have died without her help. She took me home and told me she was going to clean up the mess and look after you. And that's all I know."

"What did she do? With Walter and Marcus?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips pulling back from his teeth a little in a snarl.

"She killed them both, before I could even blink. Drained them. They deserved it, Sheriff. What they were going to do to you – they deserved it. I shouldn't have let them get so close. I should have killed them myself."

He was gritting his teeth, and clenching his fists. He looked almost like he might cry.

"It's not our job to kill people, Pete. If I could, I would have arrested them both. But I couldn't. And I won't say I'm happy they're dead, but I'm happy we're not. Helena did what she had to, I guess. I just wish it hadn't been necessary."

She took a sip of her coffee, trying to absorb what had happened. Helena had saved them. Helena had killed Walter and Marcus. Myka was pretty sure that she should be arresting Helena, in the circumstances. It was in defence of her life and Pete's, sure, but it was still murder. Helena was so strong and moved so quickly that she could have knocked the men out or tied them up rather than killing them. But the thought of Helena imprisoned, even for a night, was painful, somehow. Myka couldn't stand the thought of the vampire locked up in the special cell they had rigged up with silver bars.

"So, what now?" she asked, turning her eyes on Pete once again.

He shrugged.

"We get on with our lives, I guess. I hope…you'll keep my secret, right?" he asked, pleading.

"Of course. That's your business, Pete. But I'll thank you to keep your paws out of my home, from now on. Did you…you didn't see me naked or anything, when you were a dog, did you? Because that would be seriously creepy of you."

He shook his head vehemently, blushing.

"No way, Sheriff. I would never do something like that. I was just keeping an eye on you, like Mrs F said."

She looked at him for a long moment and then nodded.

"And what about Walter and Marcus? Someone is going to notice they're gone. And that someone will have to be me, because I'm their boss."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"I guess you should wait to speak to the vampire, Ma'am. She probably has her ways of covering these things up."

She nodded absently. She would have to wait until sunset. She sat back and drained the rest of her coffee, closing her eyes. She felt so strange. Strong and healthy, and her mind was so much clearer, even with Pete here. She thought about that for a moment. Vampire blood healed. Could it – would it make her gift easier to control?

"Pete," she said suddenly.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he said automatically, looking up at her in surprise.

"Okay. Firstly, stop calling me Ma'am. I've seen your bare ass twice in the last 24 hours. We're well past the Ma'am stage. Secondly, would it be okay if I held your hand for a minute?"

He looked at her sceptically for a minute. Then he looked worried.

"You don't – I mean, I'm flattered and all, but…"

"Okay, Lattimer, relax. I don't want to jump your bones. I just want to see something."

"Okaaaay…"

He held out his hand in front of him as if he was reaching into a fire. She rolled her eyes and leaned over, taking his hand for a moment. His thoughts were right there, as clear as if he'd been speaking in her ear.

"What the hell is she doing…I mean she's hot but really I thought the vampire was more her type, they were definitely getting cosy on the porch. And the damn vamp took her to bed."

She pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned.

"She did WHAT?!"

"Holy shit! What the hell, boss?" He stuck his finger in his ear, wincing. "Watch the ears, they're sensitive!"

"Sorry. But she took me to bed? When did that happen?"

"You were drunk. Two nights in a row, if I heard right. The first night, I was here. You were…you were crying. She comforted you and put you to bed. I kind of thought – I thought maybe there was something going on with you two."

"Well, that's my business, Pete. And I am a little pissed that you listened to that stuff I said to her. It was private."

"I know, boss. I would never…I won't say a word. It's your business. But, just for the record? Your parents were idiots. Your ability is a gift. You should be proud, not ashamed. They were the ones with the problem."

She looked at him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to be mad. She decided there was little point. He was trying to protect her, and he wasn't intruding on purpose.

"Wait – how did you hear that stuff about my dad? You weren't here that night, were you?"

"Well, Ma'am, I'm an alcoholic, and it was getting a little difficult to stay close with all the booze. So I stayed in the woods, nearby enough so that I could keep an eye on you, but not close enough to smell it. So I heard what y'all said. She's a smart lady, that vampire. I can't say I like them, as a general rule, but she seems pretty decent."

She flushed.

"I'm sorry about the drinking, Pete. I didn't realise. Well, how could I? Since I didn't even know you were there?" she said that last part half to herself, muttering. "But I'm still sorry. And if you call me Ma'am one more time, so help me God, I will punch you. Call me Myka. That's an order."

His back straightened a little at the note of command in her voice.

"Myka it is."

"Good. You were military?"

He nodded.

"You hungry?"

"Always."

She changed into jeans and a loose shirt, and they drove to a nearby diner, Ted's, where they served breakfast all day. The coffee was the best in town - Myka often stopped on her way to the station to pick some up. Myka ordered scrambled eggs and bacon, and Pete ordered the biggest breakfast they had. And then pie. They chatted for a while about unimportant things, getting to know each other a little better. She had been in town for 8 months, and in that time she hadn't made any friends, preferring to keep herself closed off and distant. She was surprised to find that she enjoyed Pete's company. She'd always found him annoyingly perky, but they had something in common, now – their shared oddness. He was goofy and silly and she found herself smiling often as they talked and ate. It made the afternoon pass quickly, and alleviated some of her tension. She drove them back to her house and he picked up his car and left. She promised to call him first thing tomorrow to tell him what Helena had done with Marcus and Walter.

She took a long shower, flushing as she realised that the vampire must have washed her the night before. She had to have been bleeding, with the beating that Marcus gave her, but she was clean and in clean clothes when she woke up. The idea of Helena seeing her naked made her flush, both with shame at her vulnerability, and with a strange, heavy excitement.

She sat down on the porch to read after dinner, checking the sun's progress on the horizon. She had never considered, before, how difficult it must be for a vampire to live in the normal world. They couldn't be outside in the sun. It would make the mundane parts of life very difficult. Fixing your car, going shopping. Calling to pay a bill. Life was geared around working hours for most people, daytime hours. She'd read somewhere that some vampires had humans working for them to deal with things like that. She wondered if Helena did.

When the sun finally went down her stomach tightened a little. She couldn't have said why she was tense about seeing Helena. She'd seen the vampire for the last few nights and had enjoyed the mostly peaceful time she'd spent with the woman. But it was different, now. Helena had saved her from an attack that she probably wouldn't have survived. And honestly, if she'd been raped by Walter Sykes, she probably wouldn't have wanted to. Her lips peeled back a little in a snarl. She was more than a little glad, she admitted to herself, that he was dead. She hoped he'd suffered.

She didn't need to look to know that Helena had arrived. Something changed in the air around her, and something pulled, inside her. She looked up and the vampire was a few feet away, staring at her, searching her face.

"Helena."

"Hello, Myka."

She seemed ill-at-ease, for some reason. Myka eyed her curiously.

"Are you okay?"

Helena tilted her head.

"I…I didn't know if you'd want me to come. After what happened, last night."

"What do you mean?" Myka asked.

Helena raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, perhaps I should be more specific. Which part of last night? You leaving because I said something stupid, or you saving my life?" Myka smiled at her crookedly.

"Well, both, I suppose. I was hasty in leaving, for which I apologise. And when I received your call, I was almost too far away to be of any use. I am not sorry I killed those animals. But I am sorry if that presents a problem for you. I could certainly understand it if it did."

She was looking at Myka uncertainly.

"Oh, for God's sake, Helena. Just come sit down, will you? I won't bite," Myka said, grinning.

Helena moved next to her on the swing seat, still looking uncertain and small.

"You saved my life, Helena. I shouldn't be happy, as the Sheriff, that you killed them. But as the person they attacked? The person they intended to rape and probably kill? I'm damn glad you killed them. I wish you hadn't left last night, but not because I'm pissed at you. I wish I hadn't said something thoughtless and made you uncomfortable. I do that, sometimes. I don't listen to people's thoughts, but I can still…usually, I have an idea of what they're feeling, whether I like it or not. And with you, I don't have any idea. I can't help being curious. Sometimes it gets away from me. I'm sorry. "

Helena looked at her intently, as if she were memorising each detail of Myka's face.

"I shouldn't have been so easily offended. It was a fair observation. And I would be remiss if I did not say that I understand that you have likely been rather lonely too, given your past. Your observation was not made in malice, but in understanding of how it feels to be lonely. I knew that. I am sorry."

She lifted Myka's hand to her cool lips and kissed her fingers. A thrill shot through Myka at the touch of the vampire's lips.

"Thank you," she said, quietly.

"For what?" Helena asked, still holding Myka's hand to her mouth.

"You saved my life."

Helena watched her, still and quiet and soothing.

"Yes. You were dying. I could not let you die, when I had the means at hand to save you. I understand that some humans are squeamish about such things, but I could not stand by and let you die at the hands of those vile pigs."

"And you saved Pete."

"I knew that you would be upset if he died. I knew he was watching over you."

"You knew he wasn't a real dog?"

"I wasn't sure who he was until I saw him in his human form, but I knew he was a shifter, if that's what you mean."

"You saved him for me?"

Helena nodded and looked down.

"Why?"

"I…I regretted leaving as I did. I did not want you to be hurt. You would have been hurt by his death, would you not?"

Myka nodded gravely. Helena smiled slightly, meeting her eyes for a moment and then looking away. It was strange to see this powerful, calm creature so unsure.

"I didn't know I was calling you, you know," Myka said, conversationally, as she looked out into the darkness of the woods.

"What do you mean?" Helena asked, quietly.

"I don't use my cell very often. My gun and pepper spray were in the house. He – Marcus – he was holding a gun on me. I couldn't get to my weapons, and the only thing I had was my phone. So I pressed the call button a few times. I remembered from the manual that it called the last dialled number. It was going to be you or the station, or maybe Mrs Frederic. I'm glad – I'm really, really glad - that it was you."

"As am I," Helena said. "Your station might have sent someone, but they would have been too late. You were dying. I…I am very glad that it was me that you called. If you had died…"

She gritted her teeth and as she did so her fangs extended. There was a noise coming from her throat, a rumbling growl that Myka had never heard before.

"It's okay, Helena. I'm alive. You saved me."

Helena turned to her, and her eyes were black and terrifying. Myka reached up to touch her lips, to run her finger along the edge of her fangs, fascinated by them. She pricked her index finger on the sharp point, staring at the spot of blood that appeared there. She looked up at Helena's face, and saw that the vampire's attention was focused intently on the blood on her finger. She was breathing in slowly, and she closed her eyes as she took in the scent.

"Is this what you meant? That I smell different? My blood?" Myka asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Helena said. She appeared to be holding herself still with some effort.

"It's okay. I don't mind if you want to…" Myka indicated her finger with a nod of her head.

"Are you sure?" Helena asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes," Myka said, and she meant it. She wanted…she didn't know what she wanted, from this woman. But she knew that she wanted something. And that this was the beginning of that want.

Helena dipped her head slightly and Myka watched with fascination as her tongue slid out from between those pale lips and delicately licked away the pinprick of blood on her finger. The vampire made a sound that was close to a moan and suddenly took Myka's finger into her mouth, sucking on it gently. It was divine, the feeling of those cool lips around her finger, and that tongue moving softly against the pad of her fingertip. Suddenly Myka knew exactly what she wanted, and as Helena looked up at her, still with Myka's finger in her mouth, she knew that the vampire knew it, too.

She also sensed the exact moment that Helena decided to pull back, just a little, from the moment that was before them. The vampire's pupils were so large that her irises were almost non-existent. She released Myka's finger from her mouth, dropping her eyes, and becoming completely still for a moment. Myka leaned back into the porch swing, lacing her fingers over her belly and closing her eyes, comfortable with allowing the moment to pass, for now.

After a long silence, Myka cleared her throat a little.

"So, what did you do with the deputies?"

Helena turned slowly to look at her. Her eyes were normal again – normal for her, at least. They were still almost unfathomably black.

"I disposed of them. Their remains will not be found, Myka. Have no fear."

"I suppose they'll have to be reported missing, in time," Myka sighed. "By me, most likely. I don't know their home situations but I find it difficult to believe that either of them had wives or girlfriends. Although it wouldn't surprise me to find out that Walter lived with his mom. In their motel."

Helena lifted an eyebrow at that, but Myka did not elaborate. Pop culture references probably weren't Helena's forte.

"Have you made any progress in finding the child?" Myka asked.

"I'm afraid not. The person who is covering her tracks, whoever it is – they are very clever. I have enlisted some help in tracing them through the internet, but I am unsure as to whether that approach will bear fruit. If it is James MacPherson, I am sure he will have enough skill with a computer to hide them well. He always was good at adapting and picking up new technologies."

Helena looked weary. She was whiter than usual, which was saying something, because normally she was paler than any human Myka had ever seen. But there was something about her skin, her eyes, that looked unhealthy.

"Are you okay, Helena?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm sorry if this seems offensive or whatever, but you don't look well. You look really tired, and really pale. More so than usual, I mean."

Helena looked at her for a moment.

"I was – I was on my way, last night, to find myself a meal. I was forced to return here, instead, and while of course I dealt with your assailants and fed on them, I had to give you and Peter some of my blood to heal you. It has…wearied me."

"So go get something to eat!" Myka said, in a chiding tone of voice. "Or someone, I guess. You didn't have to come here first. I could have waited."

Helena smiled at her faintly.

"I wanted to be sure you were well, Myka."

"I am, thanks to you. And now you're starving yourself, which I won't accept. So go and do whatever you do." She thought for a moment, and then added, "Whatever that is. How do you go about…feeding? If that's an okay thing to ask?"

Helena looked at her carefully for a moment before speaking.

"Are you sure this is something you want to know, Myka? Most humans find this aspect of our existence unsavoury at best."

Myka shrugged.

"It's part of who you are. It interests me. If that's not something you want to talk about, though, that's fine. I guess I don't know what vampires consider to be private or whatever."

She was looking at Helena curiously, though, and she really did want to know. She knew that the invention of synthetic blood by the Japanese was the reason that vampires had come out of the coffin, but she wasn't naïve enough to think that all vampires had given up drinking human blood. From the little she knew of them, drinking blood from the source was a very pleasant experience for the vampire, and could be for the human too. It was, for the most part, linked with sex.

"I drink the synthetic blood, mostly. But it is difficult to come by, certainly in this part of America. I usually go to a vampire bar and find a willing donor."

Myka was fascinated.

"People do that?"

Helena nodded, amused.

"Many humans enjoy the experience. They are known as fang-bangers, I believe. Vampire groupies."

Myka laughed. She hadn't heard the term before.

"So the human enjoys it because of the sex? Or do they enjoy the biting part, too?"

"Well, I can hardly imagine that the actual biting part is enjoyable for the human – it certainly wasn't for me. But the feeling for us is euphoric, and we can glamour a human into enjoying it. And the sex is often part and parcel of the bargain, I suppose."

"Is that how you see it? As a bargain?" Myka asked curiously.

Helena lifted an eyebrow and smiled.

"Is there another way to see it? It is a trade. The human usually comes off the worse in the bargain – after all, we are taking your actual life's blood, in trade for a moment of pleasure."

Myka smiled back, her lip quirking.

"Only a moment?" she said, trying to bite back the words almost as soon as she said them. She hadn't meant for it to come out so…suggestively.

Helena moved a little closer, her mouth suddenly very close to Myka's ear.

"I assure you, Sheriff. It would be much more than a moment's pleasure, in your case," she said, in her cool, rich voice.

Myka's eyes fluttered shut, and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I should go," the vampire said.

Myka opened her eyes.

"I…I understand. You need to eat," she said, sounding pathetic even to her own ears.

"I do," Helena said, her voice regretful. "But I can come back, perhaps tomorrow. There is a place I would like to take you to, if you are willing?"

Myka smiled widely.

"I would love that," she said quickly.

Helena smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. It was a more genuine smile than the handful of others Myka had seen on her face – they had merely been polite movements of her lips; this was genuine amusement and perhaps happiness that Myka had agreed to her suggestion.

"Before you go, I…Pete – he said you stayed here, with me, when I was drunk. Is that true?" Myka blurted it out before she could think it through.

Helena regarded her solemnly for a moment, her smile faded.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You were upset, Myka. I do not know you well, but I imagine that drinking to excess and crying in front of strange vampires is unusual behaviour for you. I did not want you to be alone. I would not have wanted to be alone, were I you. Should I have left you?"

Myka looked at her intently.

"You stayed, just because you thought I was lonely."

"Yes."

"Thank you," Myka said, and before she could think better of it, she leaned forward and kissed the vampire lightly. Helena's lips were unnaturally cool against hers – cool, but soft. She moved back a little, surprised at her own boldness, and looked into the dark eyes that were so close to her own. Helena's eyes were wide with surprise, but the pupils were dilating sharply, and before Myka knew what was happening, those cool lips came down on her own, not at all gently, but hard and crushing. The vampire's arms were around her, one hand on her lower back, one in her hair. Myka's own arms had, quite of their own volition, made their way around Helena, and one hand was teasing through soft hair. Myka hadn't been kissed in some time, and this was not at all like a normal first kiss. Helena was strong, overpoweringly so, but incredibly gentle at the same time. Her tongue was extraordinary – cool and flickering against Myka's, warmer than her lips, but only marginally so. Her mouth tasted sweet, and she was careful that her fangs – now fully extended – did not break Myka's skin, although she did use them to nip at Myka's lips and tongue. Myka breathed in sharply as the fangs closed around her bottom lip. It was painful and intensely erotic and Myka's head was swimming. She shifted, trying to move closer to Helena, to feel more of her.

With a shudder, the vampire suddenly pulled herself away from Myka, almost shaking with the effort.

"Wh…Why did you stop?"

Helena looked at her incredulously.

"You…you have no idea, do you? What I'm capable of? What I could do to you?" Her hands were in fists at her sides, her teeth gritted.

Myka stared at her, licking her lips unconsciously where they were stinging from Helena's nipping.

"I think you could do pretty much anything you wanted to me, and I wouldn't mind," Myka said honestly.

Helena hissed, holding herself still with an effort.

"You don't know what you're saying, Myka. You don't know what we're capable of."

"What are you afraid of, Helena?"

"What do you think?!" she almost shouted, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I could hurt you; I could kill you. Easily."

"And yet, we're here right now because you saved my life, right here, not 24 hours ago. I am not afraid of you, Helena."

"You should be," she snarled, looking at Myka with her fangs exposed, her eyes terrifying and black.

Myka looked at her calmly, and she leaned forward again, kissing the edge of Helena's mouth gently.

"Maybe I should be. But I'm not. You're beautiful," she murmured. "Now go, and feed. I'll see you tomorrow, Helena."

She went inside without a backward glance. It was an effort. She wanted Helena, in a way that she had never wanted anyone or anything. She craved the stillness, the peace that Helena represented. And she craved the way that the vampire made her feel. But she couldn't very well push Helena into something she didn't want to do. Myka felt the vampire leave as a sudden emptiness to her other sense, and she went to lie down on her bed and try to sleep, knowing that it was more than possible that Helena would never come back.