out forever and ever. The decor was stunning in its complexity, if not necessarily its artistry. Gorgeous, sixteenth century paintings hung over gaudy, lacquer-glass statues of naked, sexless elves. It appeared as if anything that had -- ever -- grabbed the owner’s fancy had been purchased and pushed into a corner. The mansion was over-decorated, over-filled, over-furnished.

Yet within minutes, Two was absolutely spellbound. Her eyes wanted to move everywhere at once, taking it all in. Luxury like she had never seen. The ability to buy and buy and buy until, finally, all sense of aesthetics was lost. Here a massive oak table, glowing with its own inner light from countless centuries of oiling and finishing, carved in a manner her museum background allowed her to identify as fourteenth-century. There, a black velvet painting of dogs playing poker, bought from a vendor standing outside of a gas station, no doubt. It was overwhelming.

Theroen guided her through the rooms, giving her the grand tour, but it was clear from his face, his voice, his expressions that these possessions were not his. It was obvious that he thought little of them, and perhaps viewed most with some level of derision. Two knew very little about Theroen, really, but what she’d seen of him so far spoke of an ingrained aesthetic that, had he not very likely been around this clutter for quite some time, would have actively disdained it.

And indeed, Theroen was hurrying her through the rooms; quickly pointing out things he thought would be of interest to her, ignoring the rest. He was not trying to tempt her with luxury, and said as much.

“Everything in the world is yours for the taking, but that’s not important. You know it’s not important, I think, the same as I do. What’s important is the life that can be lived. Hundreds of years, Two, and there’s still so much to see! So much to do!”

Thereon didn’t seem like the emotional type. Two wondered if this was a rare outburst that she should be appreciating. She tried her best, but all the while that same nagging thought pulled at the back of her mind like the ebb and flow of the tide. Not human. Not human. No longer connected to that beautiful web of grief and love and death and striving, striving to find some meaning in what must, by definition, be an empty universe.

But there was temptation here, as well. Wasn’t there a spark of excitement in her, brought on by his words? The scope of what she had seen in that moment in the Ferrari when she had nearly lost herself in despair was minimal next to what Theroen was now proposing.

Two had never felt so torn in her life. Humanity. Immortality. The spirit. The soul. She shut her eyes, breathed deeply, pushed it away. She’d told Theroen she would let him show her. She meant to keep her words.

A set of oak doors that Two was unsure even Theroen could open, let alone herself. Massive, solid in a way that modern creations simply weren’t, they stood before her at the end of a long hallway. Theroen paused, looked momentarily pained, turned to Two.

“Abraham.”

It was a threat, a warning, an invitation, an explanation. The quality of Theroen’s voice as he spoke the word was indefinable. Two repeated it, forming the word as a question, looking for detail.

“My father. My... he runs this household. He does not interfere with my daily life, usually, but I owe my allegiance to him. Or I did. Now...”

His words trailed off, and for a moment his eyes, normally so clear and focused, were distant. Cloudy.

“Theroen?”

“It’s hard, now. I’m too strong. It’s too soon.”

She didn’t understand a word of it. She made as if to say this, and he shook his head as if in answer.

“It doesn’t matter. Tonight, we are sticking to basics, and it is not fundamental that you understand this right now.”

“Do you all talk in riddles all of the goddamn time?” Two was somewhat exasperated despite her desire to understand. Or perhaps because of it. Theroen surprised her with a bright grin.

“You will enjoy meeting Melissa,” He laughed

“Will she tell me what’s going on?”

“In more detail than you could possibly want.”

“What about Abraham?”

“If you experience anything less than abject terror, I’ll be amazed.”

Two raised her eyebrows. “That bad?”

“And worse. Abraham is... eternal. He is not like others of my kind, not even like myself or Melissa. He never was. You’ll, well... no, you won’t understand, but