my years. Some day, perhaps, I will die. When I go down that black hallway, I will take pleasure in knowing that you went first.”

Isaac moved forward swiftly, grinning, eyes aflame. Naomi shrieked something incoherent, and Theroen leapt out in front of the charging vampire, grappled with him, and was appalled at the strength in those arms. It was like wrestling iron. Lisette screamed his name, the word a desperate plea. Isaac made some noise that was halfway between a laugh and a snarl, grabbed for Theroen’s hair, and by it threw him across the room. The back of Theroen’s head collided with the marble slabs of the fireplace with a flat, harsh cracking noise, and he felt himself moving as though slipping slowly down an incline.

He heard more screams now, Lisette’s, over and over, calling his name. Had Naomi’s voice joined in with hers? Theroen couldn’t tell. It seemed difficult to think. Difficult to breathe. There was the clink of chains, but it was all so dim, so quiet, so distant. Could he hear other footsteps? He thought perhaps the room was flooding with vampires, disciples who had been waiting only for a command from Isaac.

Theroen wanted to move, wanted to help his beloved, but he could not seem to gain control of his limbs, and everything had grown so dark. He slipped into this world of darkness, where nothing seemed to matter, and everything felt safe.

* * *

The blow would have shattered a mortal man’s skull and sprayed its interior contents out across the marble. Theroen, no longer a mortal man, was left with nothing more than an hour of unconsciousness, and a splitting headache upon awakening. An hour, though, was too much time. Too much time by far.

Lisette was gone. Naomi was gone. The apartment was dark, empty, abandoned; little more than shattered furniture and scrape marks against the walls were left to tell the story of what had happened. Theroen fled from it, stumbling through the pain in his head out into the night, into darkness. There was no sign of the other vampires, no clue as to where they had gone.

Theroen shut his eyes, trying to concentrate through the throbbing, trying to feel Lisette’s presence, as she had taught him to do. There was nothing for him, nothing but the echo of her words, over and over again, in time with the waves of pain and nausea. Darkness, my love. All I see for us is darkness.

Sick, frightened, and helpless, Theroen felt his legs buckle, felt the hard cobblestones cut his knees, felt hot tears scald his face. He put his hands there, covering his eyes, and knelt in penitence, praying for salvation from a God in whom he no longer truly believed.

* * *

Theroen was silent, reflecting, lost in his memories. He had recounted this final part of the tale in a voice that was almost listless, almost dead. Two understood. With pain came emotional detachment. It was a survival instinct, and one that her days with Darren had made her quite familiar with.

She felt vaguely ill. She knew where this all lead. There was no redemption. There was only three hundred and fifty years of darkness, followed by her arrival, which in turn had become the catalyst for events that seemed likely to end with more blood, more death, more despair.

“Not your fault, Two. Mine. Death and rebirth. With you I can be free, but as with anything else, there is a price I must pay first.”

“How does this story end, Theroen?”

“I do not know. It is still ongoing. I can tell you how Lisette’s chapter ended, though not in great detail. I know from Abraham’s network of contacts that Lisette was burned alive, chained to a pillar with brush heaped around her. Of Naomi, I know not. The stories are confused... conflicting. Some said she died with her mistress. Some said she was able to escape, to flee into the night. I desperately hope for the latter, but I hold little faith in it. In either case, I could never bring myself to track down the truth. It would have been painful enough to learn for sure that she was dead, and I fear that the judgment in her eyes, should she be alive, would be even more unbearable.”

“And what happened to you? To Isaac?”

“To me? You know the answer there. Lisette was gone. Naomi was gone. Isaac was more powerful than anything I had previously known, save Abraham.

“And so it was