Chapter Eight

Without making a conscious decision to go there, Andrew ran at full tilt toward the cabin where he'd met Alexander. He knew its location as clearly as if he'd had a marked map and compass and easily found the path back. He wanted someone to blame for the way he felt now, and that someone was Alexander. After all, wasn't it Alexander who'd suggested he'd enjoy trapping and tricking his prey? Andrew himself felt tricked and let the anger fuel his graceful stride.

When he broke into the clearing where the cabin was settled, Alexander was standing outside waiting for him. He'd either heard or smelled the newborn's approach and he looked wary, as if he somehow knew Andrew had come for a confrontation. "Hello, hello, my friend," he called to the newborn. His voice was as wary as his posture.

Andrew stopped relatively far away, not trusting himself not to attack the older vampire at the moment. He ignored the pleasantries Alexander was so fond of. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "Telling me that I'd enjoy trapping the humans, getting to know them – why would you say that?"

Alexander looked truly surprised. "Why, I meant in the future…far into the future. You're barely a year old – you haven't had time to come to terms with what you are yet. Maybe years from now, when your self-control is better, you may be able to interact with humans. But surely not yet, my friend." His tone changed into a sympathetic one. "What happened?"

Andrew laughed humorlessly. "What do you think happened? I tried to restrain myself around humans because you told me it was possible. I got to know some of them and then I killed one. The one who trusted me, the one that I liked…I killed her. Why would anyone want to get to know someone that they can't help but to kill? Are you sick?" Andrew was building toward fury again, and Alexander raised his hands, placating.

He seemed to ignore Andrew's anger and focused on part of what he said. "You say you got to know some? But you only killed one?" Andrew, too angry to speak, nodded once, curtly. Alexander graced him with a smile, which only infuriated Andrew further. "Then your self-control is better than you have any right to expect at this point in your existence," he said, praising. "Congratulations."

Andrew snarled violently, lowering himself into a crouch. Alexander's pacifying demeanor instantly changed. "You had better get a hold of yourself, young one," he said, and his voice was hard. "If you choose to attack me over something you did, do not expect me to have mercy. I did not grow as old as I am by being a poor fighter. This is the only warning you'll get."

Andrew heard the seriousness in the words and believed them, but the anger was overpowering. He growled menacingly again, and stalked forward a few steps. He wanted Alexander to understand that he was serious, and he also wanted him to understand that he was not afraid of him. "You warn me? Maybe age has made you delusional," he said, smoldering. "Maybe it's time you had another fight on your hands."

Alexander did not back down – in fact, he began to match Andrew's side-to-side stalking maneuver. "Perhaps – but that is up to you. I won't attack you; you're upset, and understandably so. But place blame where blame is due. I don't want to hurt you, but if you insist on it, then let's have no more talk. Make a choice – fight me or don't." He lowered himself into a crouch of his own and slightly bared his teeth.

Just then the wind gusted violently, as if nature itself was encouraging hostilities between the two vampires. Alexander's words – "Place blame where blame is due" – reverberated with him. Andrew slightly relaxed his hostile posture, but his voice was still accusing. "You misled me," he told Alexander.

Alexander matched the lightening of the aggressive posture, and drew himself upright. "Not purposely – that is the truth," he insisted. "What would be my motivation to torture you?" he challenged.

Andrew visibly composed himself and completely dropped the hostile stance. "I'm sorry, Alexander. I'm upset. You're right, you have no motive here. It's on me." Remorse dripped from the heavy words, and Alexander seemed to take pity. He took a pleading step toward the newborn and extended a hand as if to hold hands with Andrew, even though they were still several yards apart.

"I'm sorry, too, my friend," he said sincerely. "I may not be fully responsible for the way you feel, but my neglect instigated it. I should have done a better job of educating you. If you'll give me the chance, I'd hear your story, and I'll try to teach you more thoroughly."

Andrew walked to him, and felt only mild discomfort as Alexander put an arm around his shoulders and led him into the cabin. He felt lost, confused. Before he'd met Alexander, things were simpler. But, in retrospect, the way he'd been living felt wrong.

Andrew explained the incident and his feelings about it as best he could. Alexander listened thoughtfully, only interrupting to ask one question toward the end of the tale. "Please don't be put out, Andrew. I only want to understand, and to help you understand yourself. If you would have fed on the two men and left the girl alive, would you feel better?"

"Yes," Andrew answered immediately. "They were criminals, bad people. The girl was innocent and I liked her. She trusted me and I betrayed her."

"Bad people," Alexander repeated thoughtfully. "Andrew, I am quite old enough to know the inner workings of our desires. This is not a slight against you, but even if you had killed the men, I doubt you would have been able to resist the girl. It sounds as if she was beyond your threshold for resistance. Some blood calls to us more strongly than others. Surely you understand that."

Andrew shrugged disgustedly. "We'll never know, because I didn't try to resist her. I gave in all too easily."

Alexander looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "On the contrary, it sounds to me like you gave a very good effort to leave her alone. I understand all too well what you felt when you smelled her, and I am shocked you resisted for so long. You have very curious morals for a newborn – especially a newborn who doesn't remember their human life."

"You could explain that," Andrew said dryly.

Alexander shrugged himself. "Sometimes a new vampire has an aversion to killing at the same time they suffer the thirst. Almost always, the thirst is strong enough to overpower feelings of guilt. I think the distaste of killing is always a leftover from being human ourselves at one time. But you don't remember your human life, yet you have a much stronger objection to murder than most. Very curious, indeed."

Andrew felt the internal tug-of-war. The need to understand himself balanced itself against his obvious need to feed. He began to shake slightly at the memory of Anne in the forest, moments before he'd killed her. "I hoped that you wouldn't hurt me, that maybe you'd give in to your more gentle nature."

"What am I?" Andrew asked in a tortured voice. "Why is this so hard?"

Alexander put a light hand on his shoulder. "I won't lie, my friend – I don't exactly know. I want to help you, but I don't know how." Andrew shuddered again, this time at the thought of being so radically different from the only other of his kind he knew. Alexander's voice was kind and wise. "I do know someone who might be able to. If you can travel, I'll take you to meet my friend Carlisle. He's the only one I know who seems to think like to you. Would you like to go?" He sounded like a benevolent grandfather offering to help, and Andrew nodded.

"When?" he asked Alexander, almost pleading. He needed this internal conflict to stop before it tore him apart.

Alexander took his fur coat off of its hanger and slid it on in one swift motion. "Now. Let's go, Andrew." Andrew gratefully followed him out of the cabin and into the pine forest.