Part One: Possession

I read something weird on the Internet last night.

Well, that's par for the course. You're generally bound to find weird stuff on the Internet anywhere you look. This was different, though; different enough to capture my attention and divert me from my other projects.

I always find it interesting when mortals manage to capture our nature, even if only in bits and pieces. Something they're coming closer to lately, I might add. (Jean thinks my fascination with them is morbid, but he is just as fascinated. He just hides it better.) You'd think someone like Anne Rice would be hated in our society, or the man David Rein-hagen, who created the Vampire role-playing game. But in fact, I've met many kindred who praise these humans' work. Interesting, no?

At any rate, the prose I encountered was part of a web page devoted to Antonio Banderas. I'll be the first to admit I still have a weakness for physical contact, and the thought of physical contact with this particular mortal sparked a glimmer of wish to almost - almost - be human again. But when you've been immortal as long as I, that wish hardly ever surfaces anymore. You simply know it is a wasted thought...

But I digress. What I read was apparently part of a series of posts in the form of an ongoing story - a round-robin of sorts - written by multiple people, each of whom had taken on a character or two. The concept itself was potentially hokey - the vampires of Anne Rice's books observing the filming of the sequel to Interview With the Vampire - but it had been handled surprisingly well. Almost disturbingly so. The writers had managed to get into each character's head to an uncanny degree. No, this was not something we'd ever see written by Anne Rice, but it was entirely too well done, regardless.

The upshot of the writing - what I read, anyway - was that Antonio, reprising his role of Armand, had been turned into a vampire. The concept of Antonio as Kindred disturbed me for reasons I could not immediately name. I could picture, all too clearly, his skin pale as mine, his teeth sharp beneath smooth, cool lips. His dark eyes, disturbing in their depths.

I had turned to Jean, who was just returning to our room. Having fed quite recently, he was in good humor and came to embrace me at the desk. I smiled winningly up at him.

"Jean, let's go to California." The half-formed desire came out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.

He ran a hand over my cheek. "So soon, ma chére?" My sire, my friend, my lover; for a century it had been so, we two alone. He knew what I was thinking without needing to search my thoughts. "We have only been in New Orleans for a few weeks."

"We can come back," I said softly, unconsciously petulant.

"And why do you want to go to California?" A vaguely amused smile played at the corners of his mouth as we parted; he moving to a chair beside the desk. For answer, I returned to my seat and fiddled with the computer. Within moments, a page of nothing but pictures of Banderas had filled the screen. Phone lines don't dare misbehave around me anymore.

I saw Jean's eyes narrow slightly, his breath hiss on a sudden intake. "Who is this?" It seemed Jean could be as affected by male beauty as I. Not that I was particularly surprised.

"Antonio Banderas," I replied. "He's the actor who played Armand in Interview--"

"Ah, yes," he interrupted. "I remember. And you want to-?"

"Just to meet him," I replied. "He seems interesting."

Jean sighed softly. His gaze seemed fixed permanently on the screen. "He'd make a beautiful vampire, you know." At this, I only nodded, hiding a smile.

"So, shall we go to California?" I asked after a moment, when it seemed Jean had gone silent. He nodded distractedly.

"Tomorrow night. But right now, you should feed." He took my hand, and, standing up, escorted me to the door. I went without protest. Tomorrow eve was soon enough to see him.

My interest in things twentieth-century has been the despair of my sire for as long as I can remember. After all, one of the reasons I was ostracized from my human family was my fascination with machines, science, things that they did not understand nor feel the need to. When I disappeared, I'm sure they thought an experiment blew up in my face.

I was born in 1874. At the age of sixteen I was engaged. At eighteen, I was married. At twenty-two, a childless widow. These last two were both my fault, according to every person who lived in the small village where I was born. Even if I didn't cause the accident that killed Henry Whittaker, I certainly must have induced it in some way. So I didn't mind when the stranger offered me a passage to a different life. I have tried never to look back.

It has been a century since Jean-Michel Embraced me. Gave me the Dark Gift. Made me into a creature of the night. However you like to call it, I don't like euphemisms. He pierced the artery in my neck with two long fangs, then drained the blood from my body. Before my heart had stilled, he slit his own wrist with those sharp fangs, allowing this blood to return to my lips. When I drank, I became alive in a way I never had been before, because I was dead.

Jean was a more compassionate Sire than others I've heard tell of since. He took me into his teaching and his companionship. I've learned that before he sired me, he was incredibly lonely. Most vampires form into pairs or covens, but he had been alone for a long time. He taught my hungry mind over the years, while I eased his loneliness. The knowledge he shared has kept me alive, both in spirit and body. But always I hungered for more.

Wherever we went, I found libraries and studied. As the world progressed, so did I. Steam, electricity, science. Jean found my constant studies amusing at best, but tolerated them anyway. Others we met sometimes mocked me. Let them be staid and complacent in the past. Perhaps we do live above the world, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy it.

Which is why I have kept up on the technology of computers. Though they change lightning-swift, even for mortals, I've discovered the tricks of upgrading. Maintaining an account to log in from anywhere in the world was more of a trick, but I've managed that, too. And there is, certainly, a wealth of information out there, anyone's for the taking.

We flew the following night. It's a skill I never quite got the hang of, but Jean has, of course, mastered it. At the speed we travel, it only took a couple of hours to cross most of America. I've been lucky, I think, to be able to watch the land expand from a few small states to the gigantic country it is. Most American mortals don't realize just how much space they truly have, or how lucky they are to have it.

Arriving in Los Angeles, our first priority was to book a suite of rooms in some fancy hotel. Jean has a thing about that. Something to do with the way he grew up. After that, we parted ways - I to track down Banderas' agent, he to feed and pay our respects to the leaders of the city. In a place as populated as this, there is always a society, and a leader. Rein-hagen dubbed it the Masquerade. He wasn't far off.

The lights of the city were pleasantly dazzling, a wonder on the eyes after our quiet time in New Orleans. Everywhere there was noise, whether it was pleasant music or raucous shouting. Gunshots in a few of the dirtier parts of town. I stopped in one of these, allowing a pair of gang-members to admire me before I fed.

I tend to take those who have lost the will to live. You'd be surprised how many mortals have. Then again, you might not.

One of the fillips of being immortal is the beauty. Perhaps this is not emphasized, perhaps it is over-emphasized. All vampires are beautiful to each other. Even the scarred, bitter ones. Perhaps it is the way we are made, that we look so. But even the ugliest of us can entrance a mortal with their eyes alone. And I can't say that I have not enjoyed the preservation of my looks. Perhaps it is womanly vanity.

At any rate, my meditation ceased as I approached the building of CAA - the acting agency where Antonio had employed himself, so to speak. It was, after all this time, quite simple to pick out the mind of the man who knew where Banderas would be, and from his mind I gleaned the location of the set of The Mask of Zorro, Banderas' current movie. It was in Mexico. That was not a terrible problem for us.

Later, Jean and I met at a small café in a seedy part of town. He had met the Prince and received a pleasant invitation for us to stay as long as we wished. Of course, we would both be expected to occasionally appear at 'Court', but that was a small price to pay. I've learned to respect my Elders, even if they cannot always bend to do likewise.

I then passed the information I had gained to Jean. Being what we were made it difficult to simply approach the set. We went out the next night, flying under the moon, hoping to at least see what was there.

The place was deserted; no great surprise, considering the hour, and it gave us the chance to explore a bit. I had watched many a movie, but never before witnessed the making of one. It was fascinating to check out all the equipment and technology involved. While I poked about, Jean relaxed in a lounge chair he'd found, obviously amused.

The mental 'feel' of another presence warned me mere moments before the sound of footsteps did. Whoever this was, they were good - not vampire, but good. I stood slowly from my examination of lighting equipment, and turned around.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the thickly Spanish-accented voice of none other than Banderas himself. "And this had better be good."

Affecting a look of fright, I scanned for Jean. He had disappeared immediately, slipping behind some rocks at Banderas' approach. Relaxing somewhat, I put on a convincingly nervous smile, concentrating my mental energies on the idea that I was nothing more than a teenager out for a joyride.

Banderas radiated energy, whether he knew it or not. Heat, sex, passion, eroticism emanated from him. No real surprise there. He was tall to me, standing about five foot ten, and his frame was well-built, muscled without being bulky. Black hair, curled where it brushed his shoulders, complemented his richly tanned skin and fiery dark eyes. His face was square, I noted in passing, his nose straight, giving his face a perfect symmetry. Long strands of hair fell in his eyes as he glared at me.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are you going to answer me?"

"I'm s-sorry," I blurted out, doing my best imitation of a scared young girl. "It's just that - we were driving all day and we wanted to meet you and--"

"Who's we?" he interrupted, glancing back towards the road.

"My friend Joan," I said, picking a name at random. "She's, she's asleep in the car right now. I really didn't mean to - I'm sorry if I disturbed anything, I mean--"

The act must have been somewhat convincing - the Saints knew I was putting enough concentration into it - because he relaxed fractionally. "So you drove all day and you didn't want to waste it, mm?"

"Right," I nodded, pretending relief. "I guess I just didn't realize how late it was. I'll just - I'll just go--" And I began to back away.

He shook his head, his tense stance relaxing. "Nah, nah. You are here, you might as well stay for a bit. What is your name?"

"Rachel Whittaker," I replied, at once imagining what Jean's reaction would be when he found out I'd told the mortal my true name. I mentally shrugged it off, reasoning to myself, When am I going to meet him again? This once, does it matter?

Antonio reached a hand out and grasped mine. His eyes narrowed again. "You are cold. Are you well?"

"Oh, sure," I nodded, taking my hand back quickly, then wrapping my arms around myself. "It does get a little cold out here at night, though."

"Come and warm up a little, at least," he offered. "My trailer is right over here - oh, don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"Of course not," I replied with a hint of a smile. A flash of alarm had gone off in my head at his offer, which I had immediately damped down. Why would this upset me? Why should it?

The trailer was small, though roomy enough for one person. Clothes decorated a fair amount of it. I sat down on the 'couch', clearing away a couple of books and magazines, while he made coffee.

"So, how did you find the set, Rachel Whittaker?" he asked curiously, once the mug had been delivered into my hands and he had taken a seat opposite me. I unconsciously shivered, hearing my name on his lips.

Cradling the warm cup in my cool hands, I chuckled a little. "I've got a cousin who works at CAA," was my explanation. Lame as it was, it elicited a laugh from him. He really was mesmerizing. Ignoring the useless coffee that warmed my hands, I watched him as many a mortal has watched me.

"I see," he said. "We will have to do something about that. It would not be good for people to just wander onto sets whenever they feel like it, now, would it?"

"I'm sorry--" I began again, but he hushed me.

"Do not be. I was awake at any rate. Better to be awake in the presence of a beautiful woman than asleep and alone." And he raised his mug to me in a kind of toast. I giggled, forcing an appropriate blush to my cheeks. This playacting was not as easy and less fun than I'd hoped.

That reminded me of Jean, again, and with that came the awareness that I could not stay here all night. Just a little longer, I thought to myself, while pretending to drink the coffee. It probably would have smelled delicious once, but now it only nauseated me. I set it down, unintentionally making a face.

"Is it that bad?" A self-deprecating smile lit his face and I wanted to cry. There was no other word for it. He was beautiful, like a fallen angel.

"No, not at all," I managed. "I'm just not much of a coffee drinker."

"Ah," he nodded. Silence fell again. I could hear his breathing, steady, neither heavy nor shallow. I sighed, realizing there was not much point to my staying.

"Where are you from?" he asked then, conversationally. I glanced up at him, my surprise evident for a moment. Oh dear. This wasn't going the way I had intended. And he was responding to me, to my vampire beauty. The typical unfortunate side effect. Do not meddle in mortal affairs, that had always been my first rule.

"Virginia," I replied. That, at least, was true. Affecting nervousness, then, I stood up. "I should - I should go..."

An eyebrow quirked. Saints, he was so exquisite! It was almost as if he compelled me, instead of the other way around. "Must you go, my young friend?"

I laughed shakily. "Well - Joan will be wondering where I got to. And it hardly looks good - I mean - what would your wife think?" The babble came slightly easier now.

He laughed harshly at that. "I had not concerned myself with that. But if you feel uncomfortable - please, amiga, do not let me hold you. I am sorry."

He stood then, moved to the door and held it open. Trembling as I slipped past him, I stepped outside, turning as I did so. "Th... thank you," I managed.

A half-smile was his reply. "Please, come back to the set tomorrow," he said. "I would like you to see it in daylight."

I shook my head reluctantly, pressing down that bubbling wish. "I'd like to, but we're headed up north tomorrow to visit family." My sigh of regret was genuine, and I saw regret flash in his dark eyes as well.

"Ah, well. A shame." He nodded, seeming a bit uncomfortable himself. "It was - nice to meet you, Rachel."

I bit my lip at hearing my name on his lips again. "You, too." Sighing, then, I turned and walked away, listening for his trailer's door to close. It did, finally, as I rounded the rocks and encountered Jean.

His contempt was, fortunately, restrained, and we went back to the hotel in silence.

We stayed in Los Angeles for a few weeks while very little of import occurred. There was a party at a vampire-owned nightclub; half of those attending where humans addicted to being fed upon. It was not to my tastes. I spent quite a few hours out in the desert, watching Antonio's trailer. Sometimes he was there; other times he had apparently gone home to his wife. As was proper. Those times he was there, though, were often spent pacing and smoking. How he smoked. I thought his lungs must explode any moment from lack of oxygen.

He was restless and unhappy. I would not read him, though he fascinated me beyond measure. Jean had become disgusted with me and spent his nights alone, or socializing with other Kindred. And so I would awake, feed, and fly out to watch Antonio.

'Tonio, as I began referring to him in my mind. Once or twice I thought he saw me, perched on a rock to watch him. I always blurred myself, faster than the mortal eye could follow. And I wondered how much he'd guessed of me, that night we met.

Some months passed. Zorro wrapped, and I did not follow 'Tonio to his next project, out of respect to Jean. Reports said he was divorcing his wife. Bully for him, I thought.

Jean announced we were moving on. I followed carelessly, without a real spirit to say yea or nay. We went across the sea, exploring old haunts: China, Hong Kong, Tokyo, moving slowly eastward. Never did we stay anywhere for more than a few days. We traveled over land, through India, into Africa, following Jean's restlessness.

During this time I attempted to make amends with Jean. We never had fights. He simply stopped speaking to me beyond the most necessary of words. And so my apologies were silent, and usually in the form of a treat. He had a particular fondness for fresh young boys of any nationality. Slowly, he began to open to me again. His displeasure was the one thing I could not bear. For as long as we had been together, there were still parts of him kept hidden to me. I respected his privacy, even when his silences drove me screaming into the night. I know that I can't have been easier to live with at times.

We headed north, along Africa's west coast. Morocco, Casablanca - and then we were in Europe. It was a blessed relief to return to a level of civilization with which I was more comfortable. I found computers and checked my email for the first time in months.

We spent longer passing through Europe's multitude of small countries. Jean's eventual aim was Paris - I thought he was planning on spending a few years there - but he was in no hurry to get there, either.

And so it was that we came to a small, beautiful town called Malaga in Spain. Here we stayed for a couple of nights, arranging rooms with a fat, beautiful woman who kept her little hotel spotless, and was more than willing to accept our explanation of having turned-about sleep schedules from travel.

We hunted separately, as we usually did, so as not to arouse suspicion. Our styles were different anyway. Jean went out first, per his custom. He warned me to feed lightly, as this little town would become suspicious quickly if multiple deaths happened during our stay. Nodding acknowledgment of a warning long since ingrained in my head, I went out.

Having picked up an embroidered scarf and a long black skirt during an earlier shopping expedition, I looked half-native as I wandered. A deep blue silk blouse finished the outfit. It was my long chestnut hair, braided back for the night, that gave away my completely non-Hispanic blood.

I had not yet fed when I reached the edge of town. Still to make my choice, I paused, gazing out at the harsh scrubland beyond the village's confines. It was beautiful, holding its own dangers...

I almost let out a gasp as my mind touched a familiar presence. 'Tonio! What in the world? It had to be coincidence that I was encountering him here, halfway across the world. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I had walked out into the wilderness.

The road ended shortly, trailing into a dirt path that continued for a mile and a bit, leaving the quiet bustle of the village behind. The land rose up gradually, almost imperceptibly, eventally reaching a point whereupon it abruptly dropped away, sharply, a good straight forty-foot drop. Rocks and brush scattered around added to the sense of loneliness that pervaded the whole area. And Banderas - 'Tonio - was perched on one of these rocks, on the very edge. Standing, facing the open air, the ground so far below him. Don't meddle in--- Oh, screw it! I panicked as I realized what he was about to do.

"No!" I started towards him.

"What the--" He turned around, startled, at the sound of my shout... and lost his balance. It would be a short, ugly fall.

I caught him halfway down. The impact was rough, but at least he hadn't picked up too much momentum yet. Carefully, I lowered him to the ground, where he scrambled away from me, reminding me almost of an animal in his intense emotional state. The look on his face was angry, accusatory, shocked, all at once. It almost hit me like a physical blow. I put my hands up, attempting to calm him down. "I'm sorry if I've interfered..."

"You!" he said. Puzzlement colored his tone. "Who are you? Why did you--"

I shook my head. "This is all wrong. I'm sorry. I should go. 'Tonio, you're just having a bad dream. You'll wake up and forget--"

"No, I don't think I will." He was quick even for a mortal. Suddenly he was right next to me, hand clenching my wrist. "I don't know who or what you are - la demona, el diablo maybe - but you are going to answer my questions. Amiga." This last was ground out between his teeth. Despite myself, I began to react to his anger.

I yanked my hand from his grasp, eliciting a gasp. "No, my friend, I don't have to tell you anything. I've already broken a few rules just by being here. And I'm not so sure you want to know what I really am."

"Well, then, at least take me back up there and let me finish what I started." He pointed back up at the cliff. He was breathing hard. Involuntarily, I shook my head.

"No, I can't do that. I won't allow that."

"Then what will you allow?" His tone became sarcastic. I didn't blame him. I felt miserable about everything already. And his proximity - his blood, the musky human scent of his body - was becoming dangerous, reminding me that I hadn't fed. "Are you God, then, to tell who will die and who will live?" His comment nearly made me laugh, but then he spat. "I'm sorry. I've lost my faith in God. My son is dead, my second wife has become my second ex-wife, and quite frankly, I don't see much point in continuing." He stopped in his pacing, then, to glare at me. He reminded me of a black panther, dark and dangerous.

"No, I'm not God," I replied calmly. "But neither am I human. And if you truly wish to die? Well. That can be arranged."

"What are you, then?"

I stepped forward, allowing the moonlight to make more visible the chalky paleness of my skin, the luminosity of my eyes. I could not mock him, though. "I'm a vampire," I said simply.

He stared for a moment, then blinked. Reposed his stance, as if he couldn't quite believe it. Yet a part of his mind was racing through the evidence, already having accepted my words as truth. "I should have guessed," he said finally, after several long moments of silence. Heavily, he sat down on the ground. "I suppose if one has to go, this would be as good a way as any other."

This angered me for reasons I could not name. "Will you stop thinking about dying?!" I hissed. "It is no treat, I assure you."

'Tonio glared up at me. "And what reason do I have to live? All that I love has been taken from me."

"Your infant son... I will agree, that is terrible. And to lose the woman you love, as well. But what about your family? Your work? There is a light that shines in you, Antonio. I saw it halfway across the world. It would be - it would be a travesty to let it go out." Rarely have I argued in such a fashion. It is the mortal with a deathwish whom I usually welcome. Yet here I was, begging him to change his mind. Truly, I thought, Jean would laugh if he knew.

"My work." He sighed. "I suppose there is that." Something told me that he was unconvinced by my words. Slowly, I approached him, alarmed - and relieved at the same time - to see him back away from me.

"I won't hurt you," I said softly. "I can restrain myself."

He looked up at me. Pain shone in his gaze; his eyes glittered. "What is it about you, Rachel? I have not been able to forget you since the night we met. I cannot blame my failed marriage on you, but I could not get you out of my mind."

I knelt down next to him, offering a hand. He took it, slowly, after a moment. "For that, too, I apologize. We tend to have that effect on humans. Truly, I should not have given in to my - somewhat ridiculous desire to meet you," I admitted. His eyebrows went up almost into his hairline.

"Perhaps we were fated to meet," he offered, with the slightest hint of a smile.

I shook my head. "No. I do not believe in fate anymore. Things simply happen as they happen."

"Can I ask you something?"

He seemed a bit more interested in life now, and I clung to that. "Certainly." To hell with the Masquerade. This was one human who could keep secrets.

"How long have you been vampire?"

"Just going on a century," I replied. "I was twenty-two when it happened."

He nodded. "Was it hard?"

I thought back. It had been a long time since that particular memory had come to mind. "I can't really recall," I said softly. "It was not easy. Once you are made, your body has to die. It is," I shuddered, "unpleasant."

'Tonio was silent for a while. I watched him, restraining my urge to touch him. The need for blood was growing more urgent in me, as was the awareness of the hour. Though the night was only partially done, I had to always be wary.

He looked up at me again, his expression odd, unreadable. "You have to feed, don't you?"

I nodded sharply, hiding my confusion. "Soon, or I may frenzy."

Wordlessly, he brushed his hair from his neck, exposing the area below which lay the artery. I sucked in my breath. "No. Not you."

"Why not?" he asked harshly. "It might as well be me."

I stood up and backed away from him. "Please, don't ask me. You don't know what you're asking."

"I don't wish to live!" He came at me, hissing, angry again. "Don't you understand?"

"I don't believe you!" I shouted at him. But he was so close, and the scent of him overwhelming! Involuntarily, I grabbed his shoulders, pulling him against me. Saints, he felt so good --

"Do it!" he growled. It was all I could take. Without another moment's thought, I brought my lips to his neck, bared my fangs, and sank them into the artery there. His blood was a fountain through my lips. He groaned heart-wrenchingly; his hands clutched at my back. I held onto him, letting him fall slowly, sinking to the ground. He tasted so sweet, so full of life. I couldn't drain him, though. I fed sparingly, carefully, withdrawing even though it hurt, and licking the wounds to close them. I remained hovering over him, though, watching to make sure he was all right.

He gazed up at me, a dazed look in his eyes. "Rachel," he murmured.

"Shh," I whispered. "You'll be tired from the loss of blood. We should get you somewhere so that you can eat."

He shook his head. "No. You didn't finish me... I wanted you to." His protests were feebler now, though not without their stubbornness.

I ran a finger over his cheek, his jaw, unafraid to touch him now that I had been, however temporarily, sated. "Oh, 'Tonio. You don't know what you are saying."

"How do you know?" he asked softly. "To me, death would be a blessing. I crave oblivion." A poet's tongue, he had. And a melodious singing voice that I longed to hear.

"Do you truly?" I replied. "To never know a lover's touch again? To never hear another note of music? To never create scenes of acting so powerful that they resonate in people's hearts long after the curtain has gone down?"

He shook his head. "None of it." Yet there was a wistful look in his eyes. His hands reached up and grasped mine.

The idea crossed my mind a bare moment before it did his. His will to live was strong, but his wish to die just as fierce, and they warred within him. His eyes reflected the sudden thought that he promptly blurted out.

"Make me like you. Make me a vampire."

It appealed to me and made me recoil at the same time. "'Tonio..." The endearment slipped out. "I..."

"Please." His grip on my hands was fierce. I gulped. My longing to have him by my side forever overwhelmed any other reason that my brain might have conceived.

"If you're sure," I whispered.

He nodded. "Si, I am more sure about this than anything in my life."

"There is no turning back." It was my final warning. He only nodded, and one of his hands reached up to caress the back of my neck, urging me close to him. I kissed his lips. They were soft, smooth, warm. They would not be so for long. He kissed me back, tenderly. Emotion welled up and threatened to drown me. I moved away from his lips, along his strong jawline, down his neck, to the place where I had drunk from him before. I kissed him there as gently as I knew how.

He barely flinched as my fangs slid into his skin for the second time. Once the skin had been pierced, I drank from the wound. We were connected in this moment, his heartbeat filling my body with a pounding rhythm. Softly he moaned, then louder, in pain as his lifeblood left him; his hands held tightly to me in a powerful grip. I pulled away sharply, forcing myself to stop when the time came too near. One moment too far and he would be dead beyond repair.

'Tonio's gaze was dull as he looked up at me; his grip had loosened, and he tried to speak, but I put a finger over his mouth to quiet him. Making sure he could see what I was doing - though he'd no doubt be unable to remember this moment - I dragged a sharp fingernail over my own wrist. I was flushed now, full with his blood, and it was easy to let the precious stuff drip from the artery in my wrist to his waiting lips.

The first few drops revitalized him. As the powerful blood began to work in his body, he lifted himself to my wrist, grasping it with both hands to keep his life-source from disappearing. He drank from me with force, with youthful eagerness. Now the strain was on me, as I fought to keep him from taking all of what I needed to survive. His need was like a fist squeezing my heart, the strongest of tugging on all my veins. Barely, I managed to push him away before he could drain me. We both fell back, panting, awash with exhaustion.

"RACHEL!!"

"Oh, Saints." Jean's shout hurt, as it had intended to. I pushed myself to my feet just in time to meet my maker. Jean had appeared on the cliff above us, and now he leaped lightly down, landing just before me.

"You didn't," he snarled, glancing at 'Tonio for less than a second. "You did. What did you do that for?!"

As if he didn't know, as if he couldn't read the thoughts just by looking at my face. "He wanted to die and I couldn't let him. He asked for it."

"He - he asked?!" Jean's incredulous laughter barked out of him. "I presume you gave him the great choice."

"I warned him of the dangers, of what it is like. He wanted it anyway. And I wanted to give it to him!" I spat defiantly. Antonio was moving now, past the lethargy and pain of his mortal death, lifting himself to his feet.

"You little fool." Jean's gaze was harsh and cold. "I should have known you wouldn't put him out of your mind. Mesmerized by a human. Well, ma petite, you may deal with him as you wish. You will no longer have my companionship to concern you."

"Jean - NO!" He was off like a rocket, faster than even my eye could follow. I shouted after him at the top of my mental voice, but to no avail. The constant companion of my mind and body had deserted me, and no matter how I searched, I could not find him.

'Tonio came up behind me, touching my arm. I whirled, startled, seeing my fledgling, my childe. He looked startled. "Your face?"

Hastily, I wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. Blood tears. One easy way to pick a vampire out of a crowd. At least we don't cry very often. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, 'Tonio."

"Who was that?" he asked. I could tell that his endless curiosity would one day become frustrating, but for now I didn't mind answering his questions. For the most part.

"That was Jean," I said softly. "My sire. He has been my companion for my entire life..." I sighed. Reminiscing was pointless. "He's a little upset. I don't know if he'll come back or not."

'Tonio nodded. "I caught the tail end of it. In my head, I mean." He rapped his temple lightly with his knuckles. "That's part of the... of being a vampire?"

"Yes," I said. "There are other gifts as well. The Anne Rice books are actually fairly accurate. So you should, I think, have a basic grasp of things. What you don't, I will teach you."

He nodded again, as if that was only what he expected. "All in due time, but Rachel..." The sound of my name on his lips brought my gaze up to his. His face had not changed. And yet it had. It was eerie, the hungry look in his eyes. "I am... I thirst."

"Of course," I sighed. I was beginning, now, to realize all the responsibilities of my rash action. "We should not go into Malaga, though. People know you there."

'Tonio agreed with that, and directed us towards a nearby town, larger, where we were more anonymous. He was a quick student, though it would take some time for him to learn the niceties of picking the right mortal. I noticed that he had no distaste for the necessarily violent way in which we feed: something that took me months to adjust to. Once that was accomplished, we wandered for a couple of hours. He was continually amazed by everything he saw. His vision had changed, become sharper, more subtler. It was a magical time of discovery, like a reawakening, and I watched like an indulgent parent as he reveled in his newfound abilities.

All too soon, though, I urged him back to the hotel in Malaga. We entered through a back door so as not to arouse suspicion. My vitality was beginning to fade as dawn approached, and I laid down heavily on my bed. Without a moment's hesitation, 'Tonio lowered himself next to me.

"What happens now?" he asked me softly, resting on one arm to look at me.

"You must say your farewells to your loved ones," I replied, reaching up to caress his face. "You will live past their deaths, and the deaths of their children. It will not be easy. But I ask you never to forget that you chose it for yourself."

He nodded softly. "I will always." One hand touched my cheek as gentle as one handling delicate china. "When I look upon your face, I will remember."

I wanted to take things further, but I couldn't. The pain of Jean's rejection still stung, it was too new. I laid my hand over his, stilling it. "We had better sleep now, 'Tonio. Dawn is coming."

Wordlessly, he laid down, one arm resting comfortably, intimately, over my torso. Closing my eyes, I folded my hands over his and tried to sleep.

Back || Part Two

this page last updated on 18 january 2003