past their fifth century.”

His eyes flashed suddenly, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“Yet it is his own fault!” Theroen snarled. “He waited too long to make his children. He knew that age makes the blood unpredictable. He knew that if I was not driven mad by it, I would wield power unlike any ordinary fledgling.”

“But he keeps you here anyway...”

“Out of spite, yes, and malice. Abraham hates me, perhaps more than I hate him, but he would not be rid of me. I am his, do you understand? Or so he feels.”

Two took his hand, kissed the fingertips.

“This is the world within the world, Two.” Theroen’s voice was gentle now. He looked again into her eyes. “This is a secret life unknown to those who walk during the daylight. Oh, there are legends, rumors, movies and television and comic books. But they do not believe.”

Two was kissing his face now. Chin, cheek, lips. Theroen kissed back absently, his mind still on their discussion. Two moved her lips to his neck, felt the pulse of his blood buried beneath the flesh, and was overwhelmed with sudden desire. She pressed her new, sharp teeth against the flesh, waited for his acknowledgement. Apprehension. Would he deny her this gift? Would her yearning go unfulfilled?

She heard the smile in his voice. Satisfaction. He understood now; she wanted what he offered.

“It is yours for the taking, Two. It always has been.”

Two, unfamiliar with the mechanics of her own body now, pressed too hard, tore instead of pierced. The blood flowed out around her lips, dripped down her chin. Theroen, his unearthly calm never leaving him, lifted his hand to her head, pressed her against him. Two wrapped her arms about him, fastened herself securely to his neck. Drank. Swallowed.

Warmth unlike anything she had ever known. Dizziness, desire. The blood coursed over her tongue, down her throat, hot and wet and alive. Two moaned, her arms tightening, and here it seemed was everything she had ever wanted. Thoughts of heroin were cleared from her mind. This was freedom. This was love. The full, rich liquid of life which Theroen now gave her freely was beyond anything within the scope of her experience.

She dropped backwards, satiated, her thirst still small, her change still incomplete. Lying on the bed, gasping, reeling. Weeping again? It seemed she had wept more in the past two days than ever before in her life. Joy, pain, fear, desire. Theroen lying against her now, the wound at his neck already healing.

“It’s okay to weep. I understand,” he whispered into her ear. “Ah, Two. There will be so much for us after. Soon, my love. Soon.”

Soon, Two thought. Soon and then forever. She held on to Theroen, lost in the blood, lost in the ecstasy of it all. Small kisses now, lover’s kisses, and the joy she felt was too real to be wrong, too powerful to be denied. The moment it was safe for him to do so, Two was prepared to beg for Theroen to drain her, to fill her again with his blood, to finish her transformation.

Immortality beckoned.

* * *

Chapter 3

The Priest, The Seamstress, The Student

The Mansion. November.

Her half-vampire nature was affecting the withdrawal. The symptoms had persisted for several weeks before finally ceasing. Two had been forced to endure them, as she and Theroen realized that whenever she fed from him, it delayed her recovery. This was not made any easier by the hunger. Even if Two had been able to stand up to the heroin, she could not go for more than a day or two without feeding.

Two found it frustrating. Theroen was more patient.

“A few weeks, Two, that is all. You are fighting it well. The symptoms are lessening. Soon you will be free of this entirely.”

Two knew this was true. Yes, she was fighting hard against the withdrawal, spending much of her time in bed with Theroen at her side. Yes, the symptoms were lessening. Yes, she would soon be free of it. It didn’t dampen her anger, her sense that it was profoundly unfair that she should have to go through this at all.

After a few weeks, Two had grown curious as to why her transformation was not progressing. She drank from Theroen routinely. Shouldn’t she be a full vampire by now? She had asked Theroen one night after drinking, sitting with him in one of the mansion’s large parlors.

“No. Right now, I am only replacing the blood your body uses to power itself. Think