It wasn’t the style of clothes, or the hairstyle, though both of these had changed. It was something more fundamental; the set of the body, perhaps? There was darkness behind her eyes.

“Hello Missy,” Theroen said without opening his eyes.

“Theroen. Come hunting with me?”

“I’ve already gone.”

“Would it have mattered?”

Theroen shook his head. “No.”

“You never hunt with me.” Missy’s tone was dry, emotionless. She was only stating a fact.

Theroen glanced up at her. “I never do.”

“But you’ll hunt with that perky, jabbering bitch, when she’s got control of my body.”

Theroen nodded.

“And you’ll hunt with this... half-mortal... thing. Someday.”

“Enough, Missy. Watch your tongue.”

“Or what? You’ll hurt me? I’ll let her back in while you’re doing it, Theroen. She won’t understand. She’ll cry.”

Two watched all of this, fascinated despite herself. Even the tone of Melissa’s voice had changed dramatically. The vampire turned to her suddenly.

“Quit staring at me, or I’ll rip your eyes out with my teeth,” The words were almost casual. Two looked down at the floor, her pale face coloring slightly. She was not afraid, exactly, but aware that vampire society seemed hierarchal, and not wanting to break any codes of conduct. She assumed it was the right thing to do.

The air in the room seemed to go cold. Theroen’s anger was a palpable force. He stood slowly, and Missy immediately moved backward a step, glaring, defiant.

“I would no sooner do physical violence to you, Missy, than I would to Melissa. Or Tori. Or Two. I do not enjoy causing harm to others of my own kind. To anyone. But you will not threaten her, at all, let alone in my presence.”

“Who are you to command me, brother?”

“I am not your brother, Missy. You are an aberration. A mistake. A product of powerful blood on an unsuspecting brain. That body belongs to Melissa. You are merely a parasite that refuses to die.”

Missy made a snarling cry of outrage and threw herself at Theroen. Two leapt backwards, out of her chair, pushing herself into the corner. She didn’t want to be watching this. Surely blood would be spilled.

Yet Theroen merely caught Missy’s arms, dragged them to her sides, pulled her face up to his, locked her with his eyes.

“Does that hurt, Missy? Do I even need to lay a finger on you, when the truth will do so well?” Theroen’s voice was still calm, still collected. He seemed almost disinterested.

Missy had no answer to his question. Theroen let her go, and she slunk back to the doorway.

“Go. Hunt.” Theroen’s tone implied that the dismissal was beyond argument.

Missy opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, whirled on her heel, and departed.

Theroen took a deep breath. “And now you’ve met Missy. What do you think?”

Two shrugged. She returned to her chair, sat down, smiled slightly. “I think she’s a bitch.”

Theroen laughed. “Yes, a bitch. That’s exactly what she is. Such a shame. Melissa could have been an incredible vampire. I’ve never met another whose essential goodness was so utterly untouched by the transformation. In my darker moments, I almost believe Abraham made her solely to attempt to destroy some of that goodness.”

“She doesn’t seem like his type. Neither of them do, really. I’m not sure anyone is.” It still seemed foreign to Two, speaking of “them” when referring to a single body, but she had seen more than enough proof of Melissa’s dual personalities.

“No, no one truly is, but Missy is certainly much closer than Melissa. I can’t claim to fathom Abraham, and I’ve served him for nearly half a century. No, Melissa is not what I would have expected from Abraham. Perhaps he saw in her the potential of Missy, and expected the change to bring it out completely. Perhaps it would have, if his blood was not so strong.”

Howling again. Two looked out the window into the night.

“I want to meet Tori,” she said.

Theroen smiled at this, shook his head. “No you don’t.”

Two raised her eyebrows, leaned forward, set her elbows on her knees -- giving Theroen as ample a view as her chest could provide in the process -- and smiled, batting her eyelashes.

“You’re not going to let me?”

“No, and if you insist on trying anyway, I will have to stop you.”

Two considered this. It was unlike Theroen to deny her a requested indulgence.

“Why?”

“Tori is not friendly.” No elaboration. No change in Theroen’s expression that might have helped to explain his unwillingness to expose Two to this woman. Two pressed on.

“I know what she’s like. I told you about