talking about?”

“Someone I should probably just forget.” Two opened the closet and peered at the clothes within. “Someone who maybe deserves worse than even I can give him.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. If Two didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay. She turned to leave.

“Will I see you there, Melissa?” Two did not turn to look, but her voice betrayed more nerves, more fear, than perhaps she had intended.

“Do you want me there, Two?”

“I’m going to cry, when... I hate crying. Theroen’s so old.”

“He’s above it all.” Melissa understood. Two could hear it in her voice.

“Are you?”

“Nearly so, but I still remember. Two, I’ll be there if you want me to be there.”

“Theroen’s car won’t fit us.”

Melissa smiled. “I’ve cars of my own. A pretty little turquoise BMW, for one. I know where you’re going.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Is it hard for you to ask, Two?”

Two nodded.

“Then I’ll ask. May I come with you, Two? I’d like to be there, but I thought you might want only Theroen.”

Two turned to her, smiled, clearly fighting against tears. “Yes. Thanks. I’m scared, Melissa.”

“It will be beautiful, Two. You’ll understand soon. I’ll see you in town.”

It was only after Melissa had departed that Two thought again of that look of melancholy, those tear tracks on her cheeks.

* * *

Theroen leaned against the edge of the Ferrari, staring out into the night beyond the light spilling from the mansion’s garage. On the perimeter of their land, a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence served to dissuade most random visitors. The persistent few found the yard patrolled, during daytime hours, by a pack of vicious rottweilers, mammoth dogs with jaws capable of crushing human bones to powder. Those who chose to leap the fence at night rarely made it to the front door before Tori found them.

The mansion was not without human visitors, though. Abraham maintained contact with men in high places, mortal and immortal alike, though for those of the former type he disguised his own nature with both costumes and hypnosis.

There were the servants, as well. Men and women who arrived once or twice a week during daylight hours to clean the house and tend the grounds. The rottweilers knew them, and allowed them entry. They were unaware of the nature of their employers, and knew only that some rooms were off limits, locked to them. They were paid very well for their discretion, and Theroen had never had any dealings with them that were not pleasant. He met with them periodically, during the early morning hours, fighting off the sleep and the pain of the sunlight, in order to read their minds and be certain of their loyalty.

Some vampires kept servants -- slaves essentially -- in thrall to them, bound by drops of blood and convinced that someday, if they behaved properly, they too could become vampires. Absurd, of course. The vampires of all but the Burilgi line were very picky in their choice of fledglings. To become a servant to another creature, in itself, made these thralls the most unlikely choice for an heir.

“Hypocrite.” The tiniest whisper of his own voice, a bitter smile. Was he not a servant to Abraham? Had Two not been a servant to her pimp. Was she not, now, his own servant, dependent upon him for instruction and for blood?

This last he doubted, and this gave him satisfaction. Two had been the proper choice. She was with him out of desire, not desperation, and would remain so for as long as such desire continued. This might be a decade, might be a millennium. Regardless, it was more pure than the bond which held him to Abraham.

He believe that, with luck, it might last half a millennium or more. Long enough, perhaps, to finally bury Lisette.

* * *

The dresses had made Two aware of her own femininity. These clothes made her aware again of the allure of her own body. Tight, slate colored jeans, a white baby-doll midriff, a black leather jacket. She felt strong, comfortable, desirable. Theroen’s double-take as she entered the garage reinforced this.

“Be still my heart,” He commented as she slipped into the leather interior of the Ferrari. Two smiled. He sat down beside her and started the car. “Is Melissa coming?”

Two nodded, then bit her lip. “I asked her to. Or she asked me, but I wanted ... I’m scared, Theroen.”

“I understand. You need not fear though, Two.” But, of course, this was absurd. Of course she would fear this, willingly driving