1905

A scream woke Dejanna from her light slumber. She bolted upright in her bed, her frozen toes curling from the cold of the poorly insulated house. She lived in a small house, set on a modest prairie that her father and mother nearly broke their backs to take care of, while she focused on her school work and tried to maintain her chores. Being the only surviving child of her mother and father, she had to work hard to make them proud. She was smart, and on her way to university, despite the cost and the reluctance of men to allow her to study Law. She wanted to do it, and so she would.

But it wasn't her brain that drove her to her feet. It was the scream of her mother. Dejanna carefully lowered herself down the ladder that extended from her not-so-private room. The house was dark, and cold, her breath fogging in the air in front of her face. Her parents' bed was empty. She nearly jumped and knocked into the table when the sound of her father's shotgun broke through the air, cracking like lightning and thunder in the otherwise silent landscape.

The horses panicked in the barn, further adding to the chaos. Their dog, Banjo, was barking now. With shaking fingers, she lit a match and lit the lamp they kept on the table, then slowly inched open the door to see the shaggy golden dog lunging so hard into the air his front paws were coming off the ground. The rope tied around his collar held him in place. She quietly padded over to Banjo, her eyes scanning the area in a vain attempt to see anything.

"Dejanna! Go inside! Bar the door!" Her father screamed out at her from the darkness between the outhouse and the barn. He was limping towards her, blood coating his off white night shirt and smeared on his hands and face. Her mother was no where to be seen. He reached her, grabbing her by her upper arm, stunned as he pushed her back towards the house. "Go, now!"

He hastily cut Banjo free, and the dog took off in the direction her father had just come from.

"Banjo, no!" She shouted after him, but her father covered her mouth with his coppery hand and continued to drag her inside and slide the bar over the door; their make shift lock.

"He's doing his job, D," her father breathed out hoarsely. "If he's smart he will run away," he coughs violently, his body shaking with the strength of the fit. "Help me move the China cabinet," he said, beginning to shoulder the most expensive piece of furniture they owned. It was a beautiful dark wood with flowers carved in, along with the letters M and C. Michael and Carolyn. Her father had made the cabinet for her mother as an anniversary present a year ago, and her mother had been so touched that she'd cried for an hour. Dejanna swallowed her frightened tears and helped move the cabinet in front of the door.

Not a moment too soon, because there was a large BANG as something connected with the door. Dejanna screamed, unable to hold back her fright. "Out the back!" her father shouted, while holding the shot gun up, shoving more shells into the the double barrel.

Dejanna didn't need to think twice. She bolted, heading the few feet through the kitchen to the back door as the front door and cabinet splintered and was kicked away. The bang of the shotgun rung in her ears painfully. She didn't look back even as she heard her fathers scream cut off and turn to wet gurgles. Outside air stung her lungs as she pumped her arms, her feet flying over the dead tall brown grass. She didn't feel the bite of early winter as she fled towards the trees about 450 yards away.

She tripped over her bare feet, and the hem of her now torn blue night gown as she stumbled over the dead wheat field and rolling hills. Dejanna broke the line of trees, continuing to run about thirty more feet before she unwillingly collapsed against the base of a tree. Her legs felt like jelly, her lungs screamed, and she sobbed against the rough tree bark. The snap of a stick forced her to suck in her last sob, her blurry eyes frantically looking around the small wooded area. It wasn't large enough to be called a forest, but it'd do for cover...or so she thought.

A whine sounded next, followed by the dragging of a furry body across the dirt. She let out a relieved sob as Banjo slowly crawled his way into view. He looked terrible. His side was partially caved in, like he'd been thrown into something or kicked maybe. He was breathing heavily, and curled up against her, his stomach heaving as he came to rest. She buried her face into his matted fur, her tears wetting his fur and making it smell even worse than he already did, but she was so glad to see him alive.

Caius wasn't usually one to play with his food. He'd finished the woman and her husband, and his thirst was mostly sated, or as sated as it could be, but when he'd picked up the scent of the girl, it set his entire body on fire. The sight of her fleeing back nearly had him abandon the father to chase after her. But he always finished what he started, and the girl couldn't get that far from him too fast. Still, he was quite surprised when she managed to cross the length of four American foot ball fields in the span of about two minutes.

She hadn't gotten far, it was true, but still, he was impressed. He found her under the cover of a thick cluster of trees. The dog he'd thrown against the side of the barn was curled up against her torso. It sensed him first, lifting his head and giving a weak, pained growl. He curled his lip in disgust at the mammal. Even when it was on it's deathbed, he still protected the girl. The loyalty might have been endearing to a human, but to a vampire it was futile and stupid.

The dog shifted and it's growl turned into a whine as it gave into the pain and collapsed again. He took a step forward and that's when she looked up. The sight of her large blue eyes glinting with fear, tears, and exhaustion had him frozen to the spot.

No, he thought. Not her. He'd just been through the pain of losing her sixteen years ago. The girl before him couldn't be older than fifteen. He'd not had time to lick his last wounds, and he'd foolishly thought he'd have more time before facing her again. How had he not recognized her scent?

But then he realized, that he had. That's why his instinct had told him to abandon the father and run after her. They would always be drawn to one another. This girl was young, far too young for him to be comfortable courting, but in this era, girls as young as thirteen were allowed to wed older men. This girl was still developing, and though he could smell the residue of her last cycle having come to an end, it did not entice him to do more than hold her close and protect her.

It pained him to see her looking at him the way she was. He was the reason she was an orphan, but perhaps she didn't know that. Perhaps he could pretend, just for a little while, to be the good guy. He slowly got to one knee, holding his hands out placatingly.

"Do not be afraid of me," said Caius in his gentlest voice. He dropped one hand slowly, and flipped the other, extending it to her to take. "Allow me to help you. It's dangerous for a girl to be out here by herself. There are...monsters."

The girl sniffled, looking at his hand and holding the now still dog closer to her. It had stopped breathing, giving in to it's injuries. When she realized this, her sobs started anew and she clutched at the dogs fur, crying his name into the side of it's face and smoothing down the dirty golden hair. He allowed her a moment to morn her pet, watching her, still as a statue. Even laid in the dirt, her clothes dirty and torn, braid loose and fuzzy, she looked so beautiful to him. He would paint this scene later, after she'd fallen asleep in his arms in her new home in Volterra.

She wanted to bury him. Of course she did. Her soul was kind here. Gentle; trusting. The exact opposite of his nature. He tried to feel guilty for tricking her into believing he himself was kind, but he simply didn't feel anything of the sort. It was all a means to an end. It didn't matter if he was cruel to her, for one: he didn't want to be; for two: she would inevitably be his anyway. Better to take the easier way than the hard, even if it meant lying to her.

So, he helped her dig a grave for the dog just outside the prairie house, and held her as she leaned into him and cried. She painted Banjo onto a slab of rock and he placed it at the head of the grave. And cleaned up the bodies of her parents before she could even ask where they were. He'd tell her they were dead, so that she didn't waste her time looking, but nothing more. When she asked about the beast that had done it, he said that it was also dead, and that she didn't have to worry about a thing. Naively, stupidly, she continued to trust him.

She clung to Caius for a year as she went to live with him in Volterra. Athenodora was kinder to her than usual, as she was still a child. When she turned sixteen, they through a birthday party for her, and discovered what they were. She delighted in their sparkling skin, asking to see Caius in the gardens as often as possible. It was one such picnic that she sat across from him.

She was lovely in a white summer dress, a blue belt around her middle and her hair done up in what she considered a very grown up hair style. She wore short gloves, and raised a chocolate chip cookie to her pink lips, gnawing on a bit of it with her straight white teeth. Her eyes were fixed on his glistening skin, his blonde hair falling over his shoulder from where his head was tilted towards it. He was leaning back, legs extended out with one ankle crossed over the other.

"You're staring," he says, his crimson eyes closed against the sun filtering in through the garden.

Her cheeks flushed, filling in the area that was slowly beginning to lose it's baby fat to give way for more refined features. She respected Athenodora quite a bit, and didn't want to impede on her territory, but she was also a teenage girl with hormones, and Caius drew her in like nobody ever had. She just had to do something about it. So, with a rare burst of bravery, she sat up on her knees and leaned in closer to him.

Caius opened his eyes and straightened up, raising an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion of his personal space.

"It's my birthday," she said in a low, slightly hoarse voice.

"I'm aware," he says slowly, eyeing her as if she were a standing cobra.

"I know what I want," she continues in the same tone, her eyes falling to his lips. He doesn't say anything, unsure of how to proceed. He'd like nothing more than to give in to her. Her body had developed, but he couldn't get over her age. Just a couple more years, he thought. Did that make him a pervert? In his mind, he'd been with her dozens of times. She'd always been an adult when they'd met, and this was out of the ordinary. This was new territory and he didn't like it. Before he could protest, she lunges for him, capturing his lips with hers in a clumsy, fumbled chaste, close mouthed kiss.

He hesitates to pull back, not because he was enjoying it, but because he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She saves him, again taking the initiative and pulling away, her entire face cherry red.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. The words tumble out of her mouth in a ramble. "I shouldn't have done that. It was totally inappropriate. My parents would be shocked into death, if they weren't already dead! But, of course they are, so perhaps they are turning in their graves? And Athena! Oh my heavens, I've betrayed Athena! I'm so sorry, Caius! Please don't hate me!"

"Dejanna," he says firmly, pulling her hands away from her face that had quickly become wet with tears. "Stop it."

She falls silent immediately, sniffling. He slides over to her, meeting her at eyes by using two fingers to tilt her chin up.

"In two years time, I promise you...I will give you a proper kiss. More, if you wish it. But you must wait two years."

"That's such a long time," she complains, her eyes focusing on his, completely forgetting about her earlier turmoil.

Caius chuckles, kissing her forehead tenderly and pulling away again. "Some things are worth waiting for," he says. "Finish your snack, Dejanna."

And then he settles back in his own spot on the blanket, admiring her as she shyly bites into a ripe peach.