The knowledge that Lena was his old lover Nastusia tore a hole right down the middle of Hal's world and left him clinging to its jagged edge. He had just admitted to himself that he loved her, that he wanted to earn her respect and maybe, some day, something less than hatred from her. It had caused him physical pain to learn that she was Nastusia, a woman who had loved him when he was human, or had claimed to at any rate, and the lover who had taught him what it meant to give himself fully to another person. It was a blow that sent him reeling and kept him awake for hours, and when he finally slept, Hal was tormented by her even more.

Hal awoke from a dream of sex with Nastusia on horseback, something they had accomplished more than once. He gasped at the intensity of the dream; his throbbing cock reminded him of just how amazing she had been. He touched himself gingerly to see if this was just his usual morning situation, but such was not the case. Hal really wished he could grab a woman off the street for a fuck and a snack, but drinking blood and killing were frowned on by the current regime. He wasn't sure of the official position on fucking, but since it generally ended in blood and usually in death he supposed it was off the table as well.

He considered going next door to Lena's room to see if she would like to resume their old relationship, but a moment's thought told him that would be a bad idea. She had already made it clear to him that she wasn't interested.

Onanism it is then, he thought as he trudged to the loo for a wank and a cold shower. This was very likely a problem that would require both. And it's only 4am. This is going to be a long day.

Lena heard Hal go to the bathroom and guessed the reason, as she had heard him moaning in his sleep just a bit earlier. She recognized that moan. She had caused that moan on numerous occasions. She began to think about causing that moan again, but not in such a nice way. Now that Hal knew she was the lover he ran out on so long ago, she could make him just a little bit miserable for it. Payback's a bitch, she thought as she began to consider just how miserable she wanted to make him.

Hal was able to catch a few more hours of sleep before daylight and discomfort woke him again. Dreams of Nastusia had roared through his head, but this time he hadn't been a bastard and a charity case, he had returned to her as Lord Henry Yorke and made her pay for abandoning him. He devoured her in an orgy of vampire blood sex; he mastered her easily and made her his slave. He drank from her slowly and took bites from every part of her body even as she begged him to fuck her again and again. He drank the blood of her orgasm and when he was finished at last, sated, he tore her bloodless body to pieces and burned her to ash.

For most people his dream would have been considered a first-class nightmare, but for Hal Yorke it was just expanding on the highlights of a horrifying life. In his dreams Hal had punished her for leaving him countless times and in countless ways. The allure of her Seraphin Nepos blood only made the dream sweeter.

He headed straight for the cold shower again with the hope that round two of vampire versus perpetual hard-on would be the last one for the day. He intended to add a rigorous calisthenics routine before breakfast, just to take the edge off his energy level. Focus and exhaustion would be his friends.

By the time Hal had showered and dressed the sharp pang of bloodlust was becoming difficult to bear. He had been apart from her for too long. He had just reached his room when he smelled, heard and nearly tasted someone passing by outside. He ran to the window and pressed himself against it, inhaled deeply, and felt his fangs unsheathe as he caught the lingering scent of a workman on his way to the docks. He shuddered as he hurried to Lena's room. He needed her now.

She was gone.

A lightning bolt of panic flashed through him as his eyes swirled around the room and looked for her in every shadow and crevice. She was not there. He caught her scent coming from the studio. He whirled and strode down the hall quickly toward the open studio door, his bloodlust diminishing with each step closer to her. His fangs retreated, his vision cleared, his trembling ceased. He no longer felt the need to kill the first five or six people he could catch.

He stepped into the studio to discover that a terrible monster had apparently dragged Lena from her bed in her underwear, folded her in half, and planted her body in the middle of the studio floor. He could think of no other explanation for what he was seeing, until he saw her slow, measuring breathing, heard her steady heartbeat, and smelled the delicate aroma of her sweat, sweeter than human perspiration. She was apparently working out, but what Lena was doing bore no resemblance to the discipline and exertion of his workout routine.

Hal was entranced. His eyes traveled over her firm round buttocks, currently the northernmost part of her anatomy, which were barely covered by some form-fitting kind of pants. He moved south to her naked upside-down torso visible between her bare legs, her abdominal muscles flexed as she held herself in this ridiculous position. He moved further south to her upside-down breasts, also barely covered by some stretchy brassiere from which they were trying to escape, using gravity as their henchman. Next his gaze reached her upside-down face, which was relaxed, eyes closed, as her mouth moved in a barely audible countdown. Finally he saw her upside-down ponytail brushing the floor between her hands, which were palms down, resting beside her feet.

Hal heard her whisper "One." She took a deep breath, whispered "Ten" and began to rise, impossibly slowly, languorously, reaching "One" again before she was erect, facing away from him. Hal became self-aware enough to realize that he was gawping at her. He was about to make his presence known when she took another deep breath, whispered "Ten" and began to bend backward. Her back arched and legs bowed as she made slow controlled progress toward the floor again. She counted "One" as her head reached a position between her legs and her palms again rested on the floor. Her torso was taut, her breasts once again strained toward gravity's embrace. She breathed and began to hold position for a slow 10-count, midway through which Hal came unglued.

It was absolutely impossible to watch her performance and maintain any semblance of control. Visions of her limber body wrapped around him in various positions flooded Hal's senses as he ground his teeth, turned on his heels, and stalked to the loo for round three of vampire versus perpetual hard-on. He was beginning to doubt that he would make it downstairs at all today.

When she heard him leave, Lena opened her eyes and smiled. Good guy—1, evil bad guy—0, she thought. Apparently the sight of her in skimpy modern workout clothes was enough to do the trick.

Hal managed to get himself in hand and was just leaving the loo when she came down the hallway toward him from the studio, her workout apparently over. Lena's eyes widened as she noticed that the curse had darkened significantly since last night. It lay like a red veil across his skin and made it obvious to her that she had spent too much time away from him. Damn! She stopped at the door to her room and asked, "Any hot water left?"

"Plenty," Hal snapped as he quickly averted his eyes from her way-too-close-to-nude body and moved into his room. Now that he knew of their history, she was much more desirable than he could easily tolerate, and he found himself yearning for her oversized t-shirts and jeans.

Suddenly Hal smelled and heard a group of children running down the street and, caught with his defenses down, he manifested and charged the window. He intended to break the glass and keep on going. She followed in a flash and shoved him onto his overstuffed chair as a mean of halting his impetus. He leaped up, raging, and charged her. She deflected him and threw him against the wall next to the fireplace. He bounced off and landed on his hands and one knee, quickly regained his balance, and rose to his feet in the middle of the floor. She waited, midway between door and window, for his next move.

"Please. Cover. Yourself." He spoke through gritted teeth.

Lena pulled the bedspread off his bed and wrapped it around herself like a toga. She waited silently and watched him carefully as the curse that she had allowed to reclaim him fought to stay in control. She held out her hand like a traffic cop signaling for a stop. He set his palm against hers and gradually relaxed.

"Thank you," he said at last. "Thank you for stopping me."

"You're welcome," she replied. "I still need to shower."

"Of course. Give me a minute." They waited until Hal nodded that he was ready. Lena saw the curse fading to a pale pink veil and agreed that he was safe. They walked together from his room to hers, where he waited while she gathered her clean clothes and phone. She checked it as they walked together down the hallway to the bathroom.

"Text from Tom. AOK."

"I thought the house was quiet. They've already left for work?" Hal replied as they paused at the bathroom door.

"Yes, they were going to move furniture out of some rooms this morning." They both smiled at the thought of Tom trying to keep up with Alex on that job. His strength and stamina, while impressive, was no match for her ability to rent-a-ghost large objects.

"What do you need?" she asked Hal before entering the bathroom. It was the same question she asked countless times a day, sometimes out loud and sometimes with a look or a touch. It was her way of checking to make sure he was safe. He had missed it over the past several hours.

He replied, "I'll just lurk here in the hallway until you're finished." He sat down and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door.

"I'll put this back on your bed as soon as I'm done in the shower," she said as she ran a hand over the bedspread-toga.

"It will need to be laundered," Hal said quietly. "It—carries your scent."

She frowned. "Do I stink?"

"No, quite the contrary," Hal replied. He reached out and brushed his long, slender fingers gracefully across the bedspread where it touched the floor. "I would find it difficult to rest tonight if it isn't laundered first." He spoke simply, not looking up at her.

Lena didn't waste any time in the bathroom. She was mad at herself for being stupid and petty, for putting Hal in a treacherous position, and for wasting energy on payback for a 500-year-old breakup when so much was at stake. If he had reached those children it would have been her fault as much as his. Lena gave herself a stern talking-to and came to the conclusion that she needed to stop being a vengeful bitch, put on her big girl pants, and start taking care of business.

Hal was waiting where she had left him and rose with his singular grace when she opened the bathroom door. She was fully dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt with the Tardis on the front, and canvas shoes. She carried the bedspread and her own dirty clothes in a wicker basket. "Ready to head downstairs?" she asked.

"I'd like to do my calisthenics at some point, but that can wait," he replied. They went down the back stairs to the new laundry room with Hal leading. He didn't go first because he thought he should be the leader but because it was proper etiquette for the man to lead when going downstairs with a lady, so he could catch her should she trip. He was charmingly old-fashioned in ways that modern women might not recognize or appreciate. Lena predated modern etiquette and remembered thinking that it had been a welcome improvement in the area of social niceties, so she both recognized and appreciated it in Hal.

He stood several feet away as she got the bedspread started in the wash. "You are a shape-changer? You had suggested as much, but I thought you might have been joking." Hal spoke carefully.

"Yes, it's part of my gift. Angels can change their appearance, you know, in order to be acceptable to humans they meet."

As they moved into the kitchen and began their usual breakfast routine, now in place through ease and repetition, Hal continued the conversation. "It is a rare gift."

"Yes, very few of us have it. You have to have angel on both sides of the family, which has been forbidden."

"Is this your natural form?" he asked as he set the table in the kitchen for two and began to make his tea.

"No, this is the camouflage I put on when I approached the television station. I've kept it because you all are used to seeing me this way." She measured coffee beans into a grinder and started on her coffee.

"Is she-?"

"No, she isn't either. I rarely show my true form to people."

"Isn't that challenging?"

"Not really, I've done it so often that it has become second nature." She paused for a moment. "I do tend to assume the appearance of other incarnations of myself when I think of them. Comes from living alone, I guess. Kind of like walking around the house in your underwear."

They prepared for breakfast together as they did every day. They had begun to move in comfortable familiarity through their days, although Hal was always conscious that her presence had a particular purpose and Lena was always conscious that she was near the vampire who had destroyed her people. The sharpness of those thoughts had worn off some with each day, but this morning there was an increase in tension between them.

They had just sat down to eat when Hal felt a change in the air in the room; it was the same effervescence he had felt with Lena. A casually-dressed man with long white-gold hair pulled back at the nape of his neck appeared midway through the swinging doors to the dining room. He spoke to Lena in a formal tone, in a language Hal didn't understand. The man had a commanding presence in spite of the fact that he resembled an aging hippy, and Lena's immediately respectful attitude toward him told Hal that this was someone important.

He watched as Lena jumped up, hurried to the man, and returned his salutation in the same language. It was unlike any that Hal had ever heard; in fact, he wondered if it was even from this world. The man held up his hand, then lowered it for Lena to grasp. She bowed her head slightly as she kissed his hand. She was clearly pleased to see him so Hal didn't think he had reason to fear what was probably some kind of immortal being who had dropped without warning into the house.

Hal had risen from the table when Lena did, and he remained standing with a neutral expression on his face. He could feel something akin to an electrical current moving through the room, similar to what he had felt when Lena manifested, which was another indication that the visitor wasn't human.

Before she saw him, Lena heard her grandfather Raphael speak in the old language. "I don't want him to know that I'm your grandfather. He would figure out that you are the Nephilim Victrix*. We'll keep that to ourselves."

"Whatever you say," she replied as she hurried to him for a hug. She was stopped by his formal manner.

"We'll let him know who I am, though. Let's do the bit where I'm intimidating," Raphael said as she accepted and kissed his hand, rolling her eyes at him because she knew Hal couldn't see it.

"You never pull that one off, you old power monger."

Lena turned toward Hal as she returned the conversation to English. "Please allow me to introduce you." She guided her grandfather toward the table like an honored guest. "Raphael, archangel of the host of heaven, this is Lord Hal Yorke, vampire Old One. Lord Yorke, this is Raphael, the progenitor of my bloodline."

"Please. It's just Hal," he said quickly, before the archangel could say anything about the origin of his title.

Raphael extended his hand. "Hal." He waited a moment as Hal hesitated, unsure of the protocol when meeting a member of the heavenly realm. A kiss on the hand? A bow? An automatic stake in the heart and a swift exit?

"Just a handshake will do." Raphael answered Hal's unspoken question. They shook hands briefly.

"You are welcome in my home, Raphael. Will you join us for breakfast?"

"No thank you, just a cup of coffee if you don't mind," Raphael spoke as he moved to the empty chair at the table, his back to the window.

"Black, right?" Lena was fixing his cup.

"As Lucifer's heart," Raphael said with a wry smile as she placed the cup in front of him. Lena sat down and the men followed.

"How is old Black Balls these days?" Lena asked.

Hal nearly choked on a sip of tea at her language. He frowned at her disapprovingly as Raphael answered, "Mad at you, I'd imagine. You broke his favorite toy. And a few thousand other assorted demons."

"He has plenty more to play with," she replied before digging into her breakfast.

Hal also began eating. It occurred to him that he was sitting at table with creatures who could easily obliterate him, but as they didn't seem inclined to do so, he decided to forge ahead before the toast and eggs got cold.

"Excellent job on Caedis, by the way," Raphael spoke as he sipped his coffee. "Michael thought he might have to jump in and rescue you there for a minute, but you handled it beautifully. Got some good help from your housemates, too." He nodded his approval at Hal.

"Was he glad to see that I was okay?"

"I think he was more disappointed that you didn't need him to join the fight."

"He is continually disappointed that I don't need him to join the fight. He should be used to it."

Hal kept quiet and listened, and his awe of Lena grew as the conversation continued. However powerful or influential he may have been during the course of his long life, it was a pittance compared to the everyday majesty of the woman sitting at breakfast with an archangel talking about destroying a thousand demons. Without help from another archangel who may be a little jealous of her.

"He's the commander of the host of heaven," Raphael reminded her. "He's a warrior. Of course he loves battle."

"Michael loves battle because the lines are clearly drawn. Right and wrong, good and bad, black and white. He doesn't do well with nuances and shades of grey. He doesn't understand humans; we are too complex for him."

"You know him well," Raphael said.

Hal recalled that the woman across the table was his former lover, and some of Nastusia's more unique qualities now made sense in the light of his understanding of what she truly was. Nastusia really had been stronger than death, and more powerful than he could have imagined. Perhaps he should be grateful that she had bothered with him at all, a peasant boy with no name. A king wouldn't have been worthy to be her consort.

"Are you here to warn me about Lucifer?" Lena asked between bites, "or about Michael?"

Raphael replied, "You've been in the game long enough to know how to take care of yourself with Lucifer." He took a sip of coffee. "No, I'm just checking in on the new endeavor you two have begun. How is it going?"

Hal frowned. Apparently their activities were being monitored in a way that he hadn't considered. He should probably apologize for nearly eating those children earlier. He opened his mouth to speak.

"It was going fine, until I fucked it up just now," Lena answered. Ignoring Hal's surprised look, she continued. "I left Hal alone too long, I was inconsiderate of him, and I allowed the blood curse to regain control."

"You can't blame yourself—" Hal protested, but she cut him off.

"Of course I can. I ignored you. I put my own interests ahead of yours."

"You just wanted to dance," Hal said. "You should be able to do that without being tethered to me all the time." He was frustrated and embarrassed by his dependency on her, and it showed in his tone of voice.

"What I want or should be able to do isn't the issue," she answered. "The most important thing is to keep you from killing. Everything else is secondary. It's just not always easy to subjugate my will to the situation."

Raphael spoke up. "You are trying to do a very difficult thing, both of you. My dear, there are those in the family who fear for your safety. They worry that spending too much time with a vampire will lead you into dark ways and put your soul at risk. They would rather see you give up, or see Hal destroyed, than to have this experiment continue."

"Tell Michael he can kiss my ass," Lena said flatly.

"That's my girl," Raphael smiled. "So, have you begun to forgive Hal yet?"

"No I haven't—for fuck's sake, Raphael! For three centuries you've been shoving this forgiveness thing down my throat! I don't want to forgive him, I want to make him suffer for what he did to us."

At her words Hal froze, then slowly sat as far back in his chair as possible and looked at her. He had forgotten the ferocity of her anger against him.

"How's that working for you?" Raphael calmly sipped his coffee.

"It isn't," she said as she slumped back in her chair. "And I feel like shit right now."

She turned to Hal, gulped, and forced herself to speak. "I owe you an apology. I didn't just ignore you. This morning I intentionally taunted you, wound you up. It was a mistake and I'm sorry."

Hal was silent for a moment at the realization of what she was admitting. She had planned for him to see her in circumstances that were bound to arouse him. Had she planned to use his memories of her against him? Did she know what he had dreamed?

"I know what you think of me," he said with quiet dignity. "You have made it quite clear that you are not here on my behalf, but on behalf of the world you are protecting me from. You don't owe me an apology any more than a jailer owes an apology to an unruly prisoner."

"Is that what I am to you? Your jailer?" She thought for a moment. "I thought we were in this together—until today." She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by her own behavior. "Shit! Aw, shit!" She turned to Hal, red-faced. "I'm so sorry, Hal. I won't do that to you again."

"Let me give you some advice," Raphael said, "some ideas that may help you both. First, I know that you have a history together that has caused tension between you. I suggest that, for the sake of what is happening here, you both do your best to put the past behind you and concentrate on the present."

"Agreed," Lena replied quietly. "We can't repeat the past Hal, this time we have to stick it out. No leaving. No quitting."

Hal looked at her, then at Raphael. He nodded his agreement.

"One more thing, Lovely. I'd like you to consider applying the principle of grace to your situation here."

"Grace?" Hal was puzzled. As far as he could tell, Lena had plenty of grace already.

"Grace as in unmerited favor or mercy," she explained.

"I don't understand what you are saying," Hal said as he looked from Lena to Raphael for an explanation.

"I know that grace usually comes with forgiveness," Raphael ignored Hal's interruption. "Sorry I keep using the f-word. I know you are tired of it, so let's just put that idea aside. I want you to try extending grace to Hal instead. Favor him. It may help you both."

"Favor me? What?" Hal was confused. He had received favors from women, but he couldn't believe that an archangel would be suggesting that kind of favor.

Once again Raphael ignored Hal. He took Lena's hands in his own and continued, "My dear child, I know that your plan is to give yourself to this—man—to be his guardian, his protector, for as long as he remains above the soil. I want more than that for you. I want you to be happy. I want your soul to fly with joy. I want to look at you and not see the shadow of hatred in your eyes. That, to me, is the most important thing."

"I'm doing the best I can. I'm here, aren't I? Maybe someday the rest will follow."

Hal tried again. "I still don't understand what you are telling her to do." He had never heard of the gift of grace. He had known several women named Grace, he had even been given one as a gift at a dinner party, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the same thing.

"Let me ask you something, Lena. Will there be furniture in your dance studio?" Raphael seemed to be changing the subject, but she knew better.

"No, why would there be?"

"For Hal. If he is to wait for you while you dance, he should at least have a chair."

"I can sit on the floor, really, it's no bother," Hal interrupted the conversation again.

"That's not the point," Raphael said, finally addressing him directly. "Lena needs to do more than tolerate you, Hal. She needs to be considerate of your needs, your interests, at all times, in all ways. She needs to put you ahead of herself in every activity in which you both are involved, and she needs to choose what is best for you rather than what is best for her every time. That is grace."

"That's absurd!" Hal got up abruptly and took his dishes to the sink. What Raphael had described as grace was the attitude that Hal typically demanded from the women he brought into his life, and grace had nothing to do with Hal's demands. This was different. This was Lena. He couldn't tolerate the idea of the most magnificent woman he had ever met being forced into a position of servitude to his needs. The idea was obscene, horrifying.

Lena watched him go. "Well, shit." She turned to her grandfather. "Did you see this mess coming?"

"I considered the possibility that you might struggle a bit. You are very strong-willed, and you don't change your mind easily. I don't think that came from my side of the family," he added in a whisper, leaning in while Hal's back was turned.

"My gifts are fighting and healing. The gentler gifts aren't part of my angel heritage."

"You seemed to have mastered dancing, and it isn't part of your angel heritage." Raphael smiled at her. "I have faith in you, Lovely. I always have."

Hal appeared at the table and gave Lena the 'are you finished' look. She leaned back and let him take her dishes.

"He has better manners than you," Raphael observed.

"He does. When he's not killing people," she added lightly. Hal threw her a look and she smiled at him. "What? You know it's true." He turned his back on her and began the washing up.

"You've killed more people than he has," Raphael reminded his granddaughter. Hal whipped around from the sink and stared at Lena; his marigolds dripped soapy water onto the kitchen floor. He didn't think anyone could top his numbers.

"There's a difference between meting out justice and killing for fun," she said.

"Yes, there is. It is the knife edge between you and the monsters you destroy."

Lena looked at Hal as her grandfather spoke. Hal met her look briefly, then turned back to the dishes, his head spinning with all that he had heard.

Raphael changed the subject. "One more thing, a message from your mother."

Lena's eyes softened and she leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear what her first, best, and most beloved advisor might have to say.

"She is proud of what you are doing here. She believes in you and trusts you to see it through." He quoted his daughter, Lena's mother, verbatim. "'Keep doing the right thing and always believe in yourself.'"

His message delivered, Raphael rose to leave. "Thank you for the coffee, but I need to be off. You youngsters have a good day now," he said as he got up from the table, nodded at Hal and walked through the swinging doors. He disappeared before they could close behind him.

Lena joined Hal at the sink and carefully dried and stacked the dishes as he finished washing up.

"Do you get visits from angels regularly?" Hal wanted to know what to expect.

"Raphael visits every so often, sometimes for a social call, sometimes business. Michael only comes on business."

"Michael is…"

"My other progenitor."

"So you are from the Victrix bloodline." He put the clean dishes away, setting them exactly where they belonged.

"Yes," Lena replied as she wiped down the table. She didn't explain that she was, in fact, the Victrix herself, the most powerful Nephilim in history. Her grandfather had advised against it.

Hal took off the marigolds and set them up to dry. "I don't understand what he was warning you about. It's not like vampires and Seraphin Nepos have never lived together. True, circumstances were different…"

"Quite." She cut him off before the conversation got ugly.

With the kitchen tidied, they moved together to get the bedspread out of the wash and onto the line. Hal continued trying to understand what had occurred over breakfast. "Members of your family fear that I will corrupt you. But if you have angel on both sides, doesn't that make you more…good?"

"Everyone has good and bad in them, Hal, even angels. They aren't perfect creatures of pure goodness like in the stories. Lucifer was the most beautiful being in the heavens, second only to the creator. He stood at the right hand of creation and all others were below him. But second place wasn't good enough for him, he made a play for the big throne and got thrown into hell for it. Anyone can fall."

"Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely," Hal nodded as he spoke; he knew the truth in the old saying. They were going back upstairs now, Hal behind Lena as is appropriate for the gentleman, so he could catch the lady should she trip.

As they walked down the hall, Lena confessed, "They have reason to worry, Hal. The vampire curse is the strongest one ever created. It doesn't just give up and go away. I feel it reach for me, test me every time I touch you."

"What! And you didn't tell me!"

"It's okay, I can handle it."

"And if you can't?"

She leaned against the wall, stuck her hands in her pockets, and looked at the floor for a moment. She frowned as she considered how best to make him understand the battle she faced every day. She raised her head and locked eyes with him as she spoke:

"Remember yourself at your worst, Hal. Covered in blood, set up like a king on a mound of the dead, your throne made from the bodies of your victims, eating the hearts of children as your armies feast around you."

She was reciting a piece of his own history back to him. A spasm of horror and delight ran through him as he remembered it all too clearly.

"Now, imagine me at your side." She watched his eyes dilate and darken with desire. "They have reason to be afraid, Hal. We could do more damage to the world than Snow ever dreamed of."

*Victrix is a term of my own creation, part of the mythology of this story in particular. Because Lena's grandfather and father were both angels, she is more angel than human, which explains why she can do some things that other Seraphin can't.