or be killed.

“If I live through it, do you want me to find you?” She asked.

“Hell yes.”

“I don’t have an apartment. Give me your address and phone number. Maybe I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure.” Sam scribbled the information down. Two stuck it in her back pocket and went back to staring out the window.

“Thanks for staying, Sam.” She said finally.

“It’s okay. I spent the time thinking up excuses to explain to my friends where the hell I’ve been.”

Two laughed a bit at that. “I have no idea what I’ll tell mine, if I see them. I’m not sure I could even face them, after all the shit I’ve lied to them about since I met Darren.”

“I’m sure they’d forgive you.”

“Yeah. Can I forgive myself? Don’t know. Probably doesn’t matter. Like you said... he’s going to kill me.”

“Yes. But... What happens if you win?”

“Honestly, Sam? I don’t think there’s much point in worrying about what will happen if I win.”

“Are there other vampires?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Will they come after you?”

Two smiled. “Get out of here, Sam. Go home. Stop thinking about it. You’re practically human. I can hear it in your voice. Another night, and this will all seem like some bizarre dream.”

“Yeah. Okay. Can’t say it was nice meeting you, Two... things were too fucked up to call any of it ‘nice,’ but I’m glad I know you. If that means anything.”

“It means a lot.”

Sam looked around. “I’m glad to leave. I don’t know how you stood this place for so long.”

“It’s easier if you’re high all the time.”

Samantha headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned. “Two?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodbye. Good luck.”

Two looked over at her, and smiled again. “Bye, Sam. Thanks.”

Samantha waved, turned, and disappeared through the door. Two sat, Tori dozing behind her, and watched as smoke curled up into the darkness, lost in thought, lost in her plans for revenge.

* * *

Midnight shopping was easier in New York than anywhere else in the world, and Two had little trouble finding the supplies she needed. Darren’s gun, bullets to complement it. A machete, purchased at a hardware store. Even a few wooden stakes, although seeing them sitting in the car truly drove home how futile it all was. Wooden stakes? For Abraham?

Two drove from spot to spot, trying not to think about it, picking up things she thought she might need. Tori amused herself by playing with the various lit switches and dials inside the car. Eventually the incessant noise of the radio flipping from station to station faded into the background.

She and Tori fed on a homeless man under a bridge somewhere in Brooklyn, but Two found her thirst waning early. It was starting: she was becoming human again.

They left the city around four in the morning, heading toward Binghamton. There she found a motel. When the coming sun forced her into sleep, Two was glad for it. She was ready for the end.

* * *

The drive was miserable, the walk worse. They ditched the car a few miles from the mansion, and made their way toward the house in a downpour that wanted to be snow, couldn’t quite manage it, and settled for sleet instead. Two smoked, walked, saying nothing. The gun was jammed into the waistband of her pants. The machete hung in a sheath from her belt. She hadn’t even bothered to bring the stakes.

Two walked. Tori stumbled along behind her, insisting on walking but occasionally dropping to all fours to catch up.

The mansion emerged from the surrounding trees like a horror-movie haunted house. Huge, dark, lurking like a thing alive. It seemed as if the evil of its owner, held back perhaps by Theroen’s presence, had engulfed it. She found herself losing her resolve. Did she really want to be here? Surely this was madness. Hopeless. The fear pressed on her, taunting and shoving, trying to force her back to the car and away from the mansion. Two fought against it.

She thought of Theroen, and forced herself for the first time since his death to acknowledge that he was gone. Theroen was gone, never coming back, and she would have to live without him. She thought of all of the things they had meant to do together, of the time they had planned to spend, and it seemed her heart would break.

“God. That hurts so fucking bad.”

The hurt brought anger. The anger brought hate, and Two looked up at the mansion with loathing in her eyes. Abraham was up there, somewhere. He wouldn’t know