what are you...” Two didn’t need to finish. The sweeping sense of dread that engulfed her, starting at the base of her spine and working its way up, spoke everything she needed to know. Abraham. Outside. Two looked out the windshield, and into the eyes of hell.

“Run him over!” It took Two a moment to recognize her own voice. It sounded like a scared little girl.

“He could pick up the car.” Theroen’s voice was flat, bereft of emotion, accepting, and Two understood in that moment what was to happen. This would be the end, likely, for all three of them. Frustration, hate, and rage rose up inside her. Melissa died for this?

Theroen picked up on these thoughts, and turned to her “I am out of ideas, Two. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you into any of this.”

Before Two could respond to this, they heard the rear door unlatch. Two glanced back. Samantha’s eyes were fixated on the figure standing before the car. Glazed, unseeing, Samantha pushed with her arm, opened the door, stepped out of the car. Two felt the tug as well, a gentle push. Get out. Get out, and all will be well. It grew like the tide, surging over her thoughts, compelling her. Get out, and all will be well.

Two felt Theroen’s own mind drive suddenly into hers like a spike. It acted as a harsh slap, a mental shock so great that she reeled back at the force of it. Abraham’s grip on her thoughts was lost.

“All will not be well. I’m sorry, Two. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I could think of nothing else to do.”

“S’okay.” Two felt groggy, like she had just been pulled from a deep sleep. “What do we do, Theroen?”

“We get out. All will not be well. Be ready to run when I tell you.”

“Run where?”

Theroen shrugged. “Run in whatever direction Abraham is not.”

He exited the car and went to stand beside Samantha in the rain. Two followed. Abraham towered in front of them, massive, grim and silent, his face a mask of fury. Two felt rooted to the ground, legs stiff and numb from fear. Run? She wondered if she could move.

“Father.” Theroen’s voice was quiet. Cautious. Abraham’s eyes moved to his son, seemed to bore into him. Theroen stood firm, staring back at the elder vampire.

“Leaving so soon, Theroen?” He asked. His voice was light, mocking, but behind it two heard anger, and an ageless, depthless hate.

“I thought it best. I can only assume you wish to be rid of me, and of Two, as soon as possible.”

“Rid of you. Yes. Yes, my headstrong son, I wish to be rid of you. And so, you may go. You will leave me Samantha, and you will leave me Tori, and since I am now short a daughter, you will leave me Two. In doing this, you release yourself from my bond, forever.”

Theroen took a breath, set himself, looked off to the side and back at Abraham. “No, father. I will not.”

“Oh no? And tell me, boy... how would you have this encounter end? Shall I allow you and your lover to run off into the darkness? No, I think not. Shall I instead slaughter her, and this half-vampire cow, right where we stand? My child is dead, Theroen, because of your fledgling. Her life is forfeit.”

“Your daughter murdered herself, Abraham. There is nothing Two wanted less, but I do not make poor choices. Two proved superior to Missy.”

“Did she?” Abraham’s voice was raw in its malice. “Did she indeed? What will she do now, Theroen? She is a quaking little girl, trembling at the darkness. See how she stares? She stands in the face of eternity, a candle before the blackness of the storm. What will she do?”

Theroen closed his eyes. “She will run, and when you try to pursue her, I will stop you.”

Abraham seemed taken aback by this. He paused for a brief moment, cocked his head, and then howled his horrible laughter. Two felt goose bumps ripple up and down her arms. Samantha cried out, and took a step backwards, her trance dissolving. Abraham put his hand out, and she stilled, but the glazed look did not return to her eyes.

“You are ready to die for these two, my son?”

“Two has my heart, and Samantha has my promise to my sister. I will sacrifice myself for them, if that is how it must be.”

“Ah, little, holy Theroen. Do you truly