Chapter Five: The Strange Old Hag

"Wolfe, we don't have time for that!" Arrine said, striding into the room as he bent to bite the terrified servant, "Come on, we have to go!" Wolfe looked at the servant for a moment before standing up, taking the baby from his coffin, and handing it to the servant.

"Go," Wolfe said, "Get out of my sight!" The servant ran out of the house, the sound of the babies' screams mingling with hers in the shadow of the mansion.

"What if she had not died, Wolfe!" Arrine chided him, "Suppose she escaped, and then they somehow found out about us?"

"She would not have, Arrine, and saving her life hardly made a difference!" Arrine glared at him with eyes of ice, and Wolfe glared back. The tense moment lasted only a moment before Wolfe averted his eyes and sighed.

"We have to get out of here, but we cannot fight them all alone." Arrine nodded.

"That's what I thought too, Wolfe," She said. "We may each have the strength and speed of ten men, but we cannot fight an entire village alone."

"Ah," Said Nightshade, his red eyes flashing with battle lust as he waltzed in the door; with a large group of vampires behind him, "But who said you were alone?"

 

***

"Ixchel said it was to be a large battle," Lilith said, “But if that is the case, who is going to help US? I do not fancy the idea of fighting a war with only you for company."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Plus, we would be killed off in... Seconds. Four if we were at our physical peak."

"Do you know any other Vampire hunters around here that would help us?" Dominick thought about that for a moment.

"Yes. I know hundreds of men who would, but few are in the vicinity. Most of them are in foreign countries... Although. There is..."

"No. You know he uses that solidly in an emergency?"

"Lilith, if this is not his idea of an emergency, I really do not want to know what is for that old fellow."

"But... Are the Djadadjii to be trusted? Think of what happened to Arrine's father!" Dominick’s attention turned sharp, his eyes lit up at the chance to solve the mystery that had been bothering him for a period of several days.

"What happened to Arrine's father?" He inquired, hoping this information would somehow help him.

"I heard it weeks ago, Dominick," Lilith said, "I do not remember much of it."

"Anything," he replied, "I need to know."

"Well, from what I heard down the gossip line..."

"The WHAT?"

"Oh, come on. You have never heard a gossip line? How gossip passes in a chain from one person to another?" Dominick shook his head, and Lilith smiled. Again. "Pft, silly Dhampir! Not knowing what a gossip line is... honestly..."

"Would you just get on with the story?"

"Of course, of course. Anyway, Arrine says she saw--"

"She saw this!?"

"Yes, I did just say that. Thank you for noticing. Arrine says she saw her father's soul and body sucked into a bottle, which a tall man threw into the fire. And then he was gone."

"Was he a vampire?"

"I have no idea. I should think --nay, hope—that Arrine's father was not a.."

"No, no! The hunter!"

 

"No," A quiet, low African voice said, "I am not a vampire."

If you are as stealthy as you seem, you would have heard Ixchel's warning. Tell me, what reason have we to trust you?" Dominick's resolute voice sounded like steel, and he held his broad shoulders back with the air of a hero. But Lilith, and perhaps the stranger too, knew there was fear in his heart.

In reply, the stranger walked forward. He had dark skin, as though from many hours in the sun, and black hair which he kept swept back into a ponytail. A silver hoop earring glinted from his left ear. His face was handsome, down to his subtle nose and polite smile. His curved eyebrows met as he narrowed his serious brown eyes at the pair.

"Ixchel?" He said, in an alto voice that was layered with a foreign accent, "I see no other person here." Lilith and Dominick exchanged a glance.

"Who are you?" Dominick asked. Then again, one cannot be too careful when they are an enemy of a powerful vampire. Strange things had happened before, and that, perhaps, explained his warning tone.

He replied, "I am the Djadadjii."

"Bottle hunter," Dominick stated, after waiting for Lilith to ask although she already knew, "They use bottles to capture the souls of vampires and then throw them into fires to kill them off."

"Yes, that is so," the stranger agreed, "But I prefer not to be called 'Djadadjii.' You English rarely can say it properly. Call me Sitka."

"You avoid our question," Said Lilith, speaking at last, "Why can we trust you?"

"Because I have more reason to hate your foe then all this world combined," Sitka said, clenching his pointed teeth, "Wolfe is my father."

***

"Ah, Nightshade! I knew you would not fail me!" Wolfe said, smiling, standing and throwing his arms open in a welcoming position. At the precise moment the members of the warparty began to relax, seconds later, an arrow shattered the glass. It went directly for the left half of Wolfe's torso, and its aim was true. It struck. The tension in the silence thereafter is undoubtly the hardest for the vampires. Many of them felt a twinge of fear. Then Wolfe's eyes flashed red, he pulled out the arrow and twiddled it around his long fingers.

"Will they EVER learn?" He said, drawing a sword from his belt. "Let us go, for we have work to do. Its recruiting time, boys!" The group of them turned into bats and flew out the windows, preparing for the greatest battle the town would ever face.

"Prepare to fire!" Cried the servant Wolfe had nearly bitten, "That's him as a bat!"

"An identifer," the archer muttered as he loaded his arrow, "great."

"FIRE!" Chroused the townsmen, "INTO THE HEART!"

And fire they did. Valiant though their efforts were, it is very difficult to hit a bat moving full speed in the opposite direction. Even for experienced archers, let alone farmers and blacksmiths. Few bats fell to the ground, and, once they realized they were being fired upon, they stopped. Those who were stupid enough to keep firing found that their own arrows turned upon them, wounding most of them fatally. Then a great wind blew, and the lights of the city-- which were supposed to provide a fair playing field for the immortals and the mortals-- went out. Next, the group of bats began to screech. It was in such conditions that the slaughter began.

The shadows leapt from the walls, attacking the people in the way of a nameless fear. Screams of madness pierced the night of horrors as the people met their fate. Soon, only a group of the best fighters remained. It was then that the lights were lit again as the enchantment faded, and a group of blood thirsty vampires landed in the square. The children fled, and one old woman. This old woman was far more noticeable in the faint light of the torches.

She had a silver hoop hanging from both ears, and she leaned heavily on an ancient cane that looked more like a staff. It actually was a staff, if one looked carefully they could see the hack marks at the bottom. Age had not been easy on this woman. There were lines everywhere on her seemingly delicate face, and her hair was bleached white and full of twigs. She was dressed in a faded red dress that must have once been very beautiful, but had gone with her through time and was not anymore.

She had dark skin, but not too dark, and her eyes were green. She was also oddly short. The old woman smoked a pipe full of some nameless substance, and she clenched it as hard as she could in her calloused hands. There were countless bracelets on her arms and legs that jingled when she walked, and many people seemed to notice her odd appearance. Perhaps it contributed to her reputation.

"Gypsy!" One of the men leered, waving his light, “Get away from here!" The old woman frowned, the lines around her mouth thrown into sharp relief in the bright flames of the torch as she gazed upon the man. He was rather fat, she noted, and his clothes were worn nearly as much as hers were. His red hair was falling out, so he was probably somewhere in his forties. The old woman nearly laughed as she saw him pat it nervously over his one bald spot.

"Young man," She said, smiling at the polite lie, "I don't really have time for this. I just want to get out of this town before these REAL demons burn it down. You just wait, they will get you."

"No," A small boy said, stepping out from behind the baker's shop, "They will not! I will protect him, because I am the greatest warrior in this entire city!" He shook a small wooden sword madly, and the old woman sighed with impatience. The boy, too, was a sight to behold. His blond hair nearly covered his eyes, and he blew a wisp of it off of his face. His skin was pale but not too pale, and the blush of youth was on his face. He had blue eyes which he rubbed from sleepiness at the late hour.

Today, he was evidentially dressed as a knight, for he wore a tiny blue tunic and blue pants with an overly large belt around his waist. The belt most certainly did not belong to him, but the old woman could see he was using it to hold his toy sword.

"The sad thing is, that's probably true," She said to the boy. "Now, can you take me somewhere to sit? I'm tired."

"Sure!" He said cheerily, dancing about, "If you go right, there's a church there. Perfect place to sit, real quiet too." He shivered. "It creeps me out."

"Well, we cannot have the greatest warrior in the village 'creeped out.' I will go alone. Thank you, and may whatever God there is watch over you both."

The old woman turned to leave, but the young boy stopped her.

"Wait!" He said, "You don't believe me about being the greatest warrior in the village do you? Well, I can prove it! Watch!"

"If I watch, will you leave me be?"

"Sure, sure. Now watch this!" The boy loaded the slingshot he had been holding in his left hand, dropped the sword, and loaded his weapon. Aiming for the bells of the church, he fired. The small rock hit the inside wall of the bell. It echoed, and the noise brought hope into the hearts of the remaining mortals. The bats began to scream, some of the younger vampires simply turned to ash, and even Wolfe flinched.

"RETREAT," Arrine called, "RETREAT!" She turned to a bat and fled, the other vampires and Wolfe following. The few remaining mortals cheered, none but the rude man and the boy noticing that the old woman had disappeared.

***

"Wolfe is... your father?" Dominick said, "You are a Dhampir?"

"Come off it!" Lilith said, "He doesn't look anything like you!"

"No, I was not asking if he was related to me! I was asking if he is a vampire's son, which is what 'Dhampir' means!"

"....Oh."

"I am really beginning to feel sorry for you, is she always like this?"

"Always."

"Wow, that must really give you points with the general public."

"No, actually."

"Really?"

"Really. I just can't understand why..." Lilith sat on the ground and buried her face in her hands.

"To the business at hand, then," Dominick said, cracking his knuckles.

"Quite so. You said earlier Wolfe was in...?"

"Greece."

"Isn't there a tad too much son for a vampire in Greece? The raging sea would not help matters, either."

"Well, we have this map..." Dominick said reluctantly, pulling it out of his jacket.

"May I?" He said, snatching it back without waiting for an answer. His movements were surprisingly fast for a human, Dominick wondered if he had inherited his father's talents.

"I can see the problem now," He said, his deep voice making the Liberator feel strangely inferior.

"What is it?"

Sitka beamed at them. "You were holding the map upside-down. They are in Paris."

"Paris?" Lilith said, "Why Paris?"

 

"Because," Sitka replied, "That is where he may yet find sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" Asked Lilith, "Why would a vampire seek sanctuary?"

"I have no real leads on the matter," Sitka confessed, "but one can certainly speculate, particularly when one has evidence."

"Which is?" Dominick said, wondering why they were still here. The sun was beginning to set, and the vampires would be there soon. Sitka withdrew a scrap of paper from his belt. There were strange markings upon it, markings quite familiar to the three. English letters, but scrambled unusually. The style they were written in, too, was odd.

"And this says.... what, precisely?" Lilith was reminded was the time that she and Melena had been explaining her dream to Dominick. The more answers they gave, the more questions they seemed to uncover.

"I have no idea," Sitka replied. "While it seems that it is written in your mother tongue, the letters are far too jarred to make any real words. I have been working for days, with no headway, the cipher was unfamiliar."

"You think it is a cipher?" Dominick said, staring at the paper hopelessly. "What kind?"

"That's more or less the problem, isn't it?" Sitka stated coolly, "I don't know." But Dominick was not listening. His eyes were beginning to twinkle as his mind undid the puzzle.

"Every vampire group, or Covent, has a code for planning various activities--from something as innocent as a new coat to something as sinister as murdering a child. It depends on the mood, I think."

"Is it crack able, do you think? Or shall we take the Djadadjii's method and chuck it into the fire?" Lilith smirked as she said this last phrase. Her humor was somewhat of a relief to the tense proceedings.

"I think it is 'crack able', but I would need to know a good deal more about Wolfe before I would even attempt to break this wide open." Sitka coughed loudly, and Dominick blinked. "Oh. Right. Um... What is Wolfe's favorite thing in the world?" Sitka did not reply immediately. He pulled out a dark wooden pipe, lit it, and began to smoke. Shortly thereafter, a small plume of smoke had obscured his face from view.

"Killing," he answered finally. Lilith felt a stirring of pit at such a remark, but Dominick and Sitka had no such thoughts.

"Hmmm..These letters are in English. The problem is, this is a Belrick Cipher." Dominick said calmly. It was evidentially Sitka's turn to ask the question.

"What did you just call me?!"

"No, no, nothing like that! A Belrick Cipher is when a group decided on a secret code word to make a substation alphabet." Dominick picked up a long stick and wrote 'W O L F E' in the sand at his feet. "Say we decided to make our own cipher. We would use 'A' in place of 'W', having already decided the strategically placed locations of the other four letters. This means 'killing' would not work, because the number of the original code word must be a number that can be evenly divided into twenty four. Or, a word that can be fitted into each letter of the alphabet based on the letter amount of the code word. Do you have any other guesses, Sitka?"

As Sitka went on guessing, neither of them noticed how quiet Lilith had become. How her eyes had glazed over, how her breathing was ragged. How mindlessly her pale hand stroke the white fur of little Azrael the bat, who was asleep. After three hours, Sitka sank to the ground. "I give up!" He said in a very noisy voice, the echoes clanging down the alley, "Its hopeless!"

"No it isn't," Lilith's pretty voice said, "I know it." Both of the men stared at her.

“Well.. What is it?” Dominick asked, hardly noticing the odd voice and the vacant expression of his friend. Lilith’s stare brought him back from code world to reality.

“Arrine.” That must’ve been very painful for Dominick, he dropped the book he’d been holding. Sitka filled in for him, though, as good friends often do.

“And what does it say?”

Lilith glanced at the parchment a moment. “Bring me the ring.”

***

“Wow, we barely made it out of that one,” Nightshade replied, “I think we’ve lost about thirty five soldiers to those monkeys.”

“Oh, great. My army has been damaged by ragamuffins! Under trained ragamuffins!” Wolfe looked angry, and Nightshade wished very much that he was dead at that moment. Nothing was worse to him then Wolfe’s scorn.

“It is shocking, sir.” Nightshade said, “Surely we would have done better, if more was at stake?”

“Oh, let us go and find better motivation then OUR LIVES,” Wolfe replied sarcastically, “indeed, I wonder at the fact I did not think of it before. You are dismissed, send Arrine inside.”

Nightshade bowed in reply. “Yes sir.” He muttered, fleeing the scene. Arrine strode into the room. Unlike the absolutely furious Wolfe, she seemed excited. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes looked soft as she gracefully moved about.

“Well? What news do you have for me?” Wolfe snapped at her. Then he stopped himself from yelling angry words. Arrine was a lady, after all, he reminded himself. He should treat her as such.

“Forgive me,” he said, lowering his head so his pony tail rested on his shoulder, “I have taken the loss of our people far too hard.”

“As have I, if I do not look it,” she said, “I had never been in a real fight before, for something I believed in.” Wolfe had no reply or interest in this, but Arrine had not finished.

“Wolfe?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you think my father would be proud of me?” Wolfe laughed at such a remark.

“Of course he would be! You’re fighting against the greatest infliction of all time!” Arrine said nothing, but she rolled her eyes. Here we go again… She thought. “Human kind! The stupid, mortal, greedy things! Killers of all that is good in this world! Misrepresenting us to the general animal population! Making innocent dark creatures into monsters who would kill you as soon as look at you!” He clasped his hands behind his back and strode to the window, staring at the view with his cold eyes. “Why, the nerve of them! No, Arrine, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure your father would be very proud.”

Arrine sighed. “Thank you, Wolfe.” An odd sensation happened to Wolfe, then. He felt a new tingling in his feelings.

He resisted the temptation to grab her hand. “Arrine?”

“Yes, Wolfe?”

“Are you happy here?” Arrine was about to reply honestly, but she saw how tired Wolfe looked. How faded his beauty seemed in the light.

“Yes, Wolfe.” She whispered, curtsying, “I am very happy here.”

He nodded. “I’m glad,” He replied, and he really did look it. “Do you think…” He began, but he stopped himself.

“Do I think what?” Arrine asked, “Wolfe?”

“Never mind!” He snapped, regaining his same old nature rapidly and ashamed at his show of emotion, “Leave me! Pack! We leave for Paris tomorrow!” Arrine stared blankly at him.

“Of course, Wolfe,” She replied in a bleak monotone. She left the room, and Wolfe’s red eyes stared at the place where she’d stood.

 

***

“That doesn’t help us at all!” Dominick scoffed, “What a useless scrap of informat--” He stopped as his eyes beheld the silver butterfly clasp on Lilith’s cloak. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Sitka asked.

“We need to get to Paris, and quickly,” He said in a hushed voice, “Arrine is in yet more danger.”

“In danger? Of what?”

“Being sacrificed! There is an ancient ritual that gives a vampire full power. If a victim willingly follows the vampire who bit her to a place of sanctuary…”

“Great power,” Sitka cut in. “Yes, I remember! Brilliant! I never would’ve thought of that. But does that mean that Wolfe is going to use this ‘Arrine’ for--?” Dominick’s grim eyes answered him.

“Then we have no time to lose!” Sitka continued.

 

“To Paris!”

 

The three of them turned to the short, elderly looking woman who had spoken as she hobbled forward. None of them recognized the woman who had undeniably saved the village from chaos, in the same faded red dress, her crinkly hand still clutching the staff she was using as a cane.

"Well? What are we waiting for?" She said matter-oh-factly, "Lets go!"

"You are not going anywhere, old woman." Sitka said, as politely as possible, "You're hardly the type to go on adventures."

"Pft, you youngsters. Always thinking that you've seen it all. I've been alive many times over your age, boy. Believe me. I've traveled for days without food or water, the comfort of a warm bed. I was a traveler in my day, you know! Oh, what I would give to see the mountains again. As they were, so..." Her old green eyes looked softer for just one moment, and the silence was somehow comforting.

"SO don't you tell me that I can't keep up with you! I'm going to help Arrine, and that is final!" She shook her little fist at Sitka, who grinned.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, he replied, "Peace, old woman." But Dominick had caught onto something that the Djadadjii had ignored.

"How do you know about Arrine, crone?"

"Oh, I have my ways. My race has always had a way of finding things out."

"Uh Huh. And what exactly ARE you?"

The old woman threw back her head and cackled. "In time, hunter, all in good time."

"And your name?" Lilith asked, cringing at the sound.

"Yadira." Lilith thought the name was vaguely familiar, but she could not place it. She bit her lip, thinking, but she said no more.

"And what buisness have you to travel with us?" Dominick's normally welcoming voice was sharp and cutting as steel, which was unlike him-- he was normally very kind. Neither Lilith nor Sitka could place why he was so short with her, he had no reason to dislike Yadira.

She fiddled with her hoop earring, which was shining faintly in the torchlight of the house, before responding: "Let us say that there were those Wolfe offended before this young chap."

"Ah. You know of Wolfe?"

"My dear boy, I most likely knew of Wolfe before you did." Dominick's embarrassed red face made the old woman grin. Sitka noticed she was missing four of her teeth, and she had replaced them with little chunks of wood.

"Let her come, Dominick," Lilith said suddenly, taken by the mysterious old Yadira. She placed her hand on her shoulder, and whispered quietly, "We need all the help we can get."

"You may come," Dominick stated grudgingly, "But keep your feet about you."

"Of course."

"And don't expect us to save you if you poke your nose into something you weren't supposed to."

"Most likely, I'll be getting you out of trouble if I do." Dominick turned redder yet; his eyebrows slanted in a face of one who is purely annoyed but can't do anything about it. He clenched his hands into a fist before Sitka hurriedly stepped in between them.

And Lilith said hastily, "Fine."

***

The cemetery was aged and dangerous. Spirits haunted it at all hours, shielded from the sunlight by a blanket of mysterious fog that never quite gave way. That night, the wolves were howling at the full moon. There were glowing lights beside the gravestones as the four made their way inside.

"Why did we have to come here?" Lilith whispered, "I hate it here! Its quiet and obviously not meant to be disturbed!" Even with little Azrael the bat on her shoulder, cuddling against her black hair, she felt unsafe. Some whisper of a memory itched at the back of her head, warning her away.

"For the hundredth time, we came here because its the quickest way to the cathedral!" Dominick snapped under his breath, eyeing a large cross that loomed over them suspiciously.

"If we save Arrine, I'm going to slap her." Sitka laughed, so did Yadira.

"I like this one," Yadira muttered, loudly enough to be heard, "She's got spunk! High five, Lilith!" Lilith obliged, grinning, while Dominick rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe those two!" Sitka said, his deep voiced whisper sounding more like a threat, "Only a few hours' walk, and they're already thick as thieves!"

"Well, I think its annoying. If I hear one more remark about my hunting coat..."

"Easy, Tiger."

"Hey!" Lilith's shout came, and she no longer whispered. "Hey, I found it!" Sitka and Dominick exchanged looks, they weren't looking for anything. How odd that Lilith should shout. "Come on, you two! I found the treasure!"

Dominick began to make forward, but Sitka grabbed his shoulders. "Stop," He ordered him, "There are many spirits in this place. If one of them is hungry, it is best for us not to listen. Lilith and Yadira were behind us, remember?"

Dominick glared at him. "Poppy c**k and nonsense! I'll go see what she's found."

He took two steps forward, and then fell into a giant crevasse.

At Sitka's yell, both Yadira and Lilith caught up. "What's happened?" Asked Yadira, "Where has that fool of a hunter gotten to?"

"He fell in the crevasse." Yadira swore under her breath, and Lilith frowned.

"The idiot!" But Yadira, for once, did not do what Lilith did. Walking forward to the crevasse, she made her sentiments known.

 

"Oh, wise hunter, I've some advice for you!" There was no reply. After a moment, she said, "Keep your feet about you!"

 

The echoes of her wicked cackle fell down into the dark, creepy crevasse as Dominick plunged to his death. Thinking hard about what time it was as he fell through space, he hastily pulled the dim-looking silver whistle from one of the brown, aged pouches on his belt. Blowing on it desperately, the innocent-sounding chord mingled with the cruel sound of the cackle. As he blew upon the whistle, the breathtaking first light of dawn reached the world.

As these red and orange rays brushed against Dominick, a strong white cloud appeared beneath him, and gently comforted his fall. The mysterious ground-cloud faded away, and a piece of parchment was on the ground. Dominick reached for it with his long, pale hands and saw it said, in a flowingly elegant script: Be Strong.

"You all right down there?" Lilith's voice rang down the crevasse. Dominick rose from the ground slowly, dusting off his coat.

"Yes, I'm fine!" He shouted back, "Just get me out of here!" Lilith and Yadira had no idea how to accomplish this, but Sitka did.

"Lilith," he intoned quietly, "How much weight can your bat hold?"

"I don't know, a good two hundred pounds. It is an enchanted bat, after all."

"Yes... Dominick weighs what?"

"Let me ask him, I insist." Yadira said with a wicked smile, rubbing her hands together before cupping them at her mouth and shouting, "DOMINICK! WHAT DO YOU WEIGH, MAN!"

"I DON'T KNOW! TWO FOURTY!"

"Okay, so it would be pushing it... can your bat handle the strain?"

"I think so, Ixchel said he could." Lilith reached inside her pocket, her silver hair obscuring her face as she did so, and withdrew the tiny bat. He was asleep, his little white chest puffing in and out with breath. "Azrael, dear, would you fetch Dominick for us? Silly Dominick, he fell down the crevasse." Azrael yawned a squeaky yawn, and spread out his wings.

Taking off from Lilith's hands, Azrael went down to 'fetch' Dominick. He landed with a thump near Dominick's feet.

"Hello, little friend!" He said kindly, picking up the bat and absentmindedly stroking his head, "Are you here to get me out?" Azrael nodded, using his little feet to lift him off the ground. After a little while, the bat dropped Dominick on the edge of the cliff. He lay sprawled out, precisely as he had landed. Sitka, Lilith, and Yadira ran to him.

"Dominick? Are you all right?" Dominick's eyes fluttered open to see Lilith looming above him.

"Never again," He mumbled.

"What? Oh my god, he's gone insane, he's going to die, why didn't we grab him, I--" Lilith was evidentially in some sort of panic, her voice was high pitched and squeaky as Azrael's yawn. All though it was true that Dominick had to speak loudly to calm down, no one really noticed.

"I am NEVER riding that bat again."

"We should go," Sitka said loudly, "Who knows what creatures await us? This fog is downright unsettling." So the four of them set off, reunited after an idiot acted up.

***

 

The Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France, was the most beautiful in the entire world. Opalescent sunlight streamed brightly through the translucent windows, the windows that featured immortally interesting biblical scenes. In Arrine's room, she gazed with cool apathy at the austere surroundings, ignoring the window that featured the virgin Mary holding a vicariously detailed baby Jesus.

One could almost hear the cries of the child piercing the early morning silence. But the vampire Arrine did not notice that; she felt only remorse at what she had been instructed to do. It was torture, looking at the window that was meant to be the picture of innocence when she had just...

But no. She must not think of such things, such gruesome truths. She buried her head in her hands, trying not to cry the tears that threatened to break loose. Perhaps she should read? Yes, that would do her good; that would take her away from the cruel world she had been placed in. She withdrew a book of Italian poetry and read, not really taking any of it in.

A single tear ran down her cheek, staining the painstakingly printed words on the page. Suddenly, a strong gust of cold wind hit Arrine. It blew the book from her hand, and she stared at her empty hands for a moment, as though confused; snapped back to reality in a way she had not expected. There was a cloaked figure that floated lazily in through the forced-open window.

Arrine did not know the figure, and out of habit her hand closed around a near-by letter opener. The warm, dead wood of the handle was strangely comforting to a non existent fear.

"Get out!" She said harshly, the tears leaking into her voice, "You are trespassing!"

"Oh, I don't think you want me to leave, m'dear." A soothing, aged voice said, "Surely you need company at this hour?"

"I said, GET OUT!"

"You know, I've heard about the child." Arrine froze.

"No," She whispered. "I didn't... I didn't have a choice!" Her voice shook, whether it was from disbelief or general shock was difficult to tell.

"You always had a choice," the cloaked figure replied callously, "And now you have only one option. And it is NOT the one that you wear upon your finger. That power will protect you from the villains of this world, certainly. You will win any battle, accomplish whatever you would desire to with that ring. . ." The mysterious figure paused, and its voice grew softer. "Can you use that to save yourself? Killing a child is no small thing to speak of, particularly in a house of GOD."

"SILENCE!" Arrine shouted, leaping lithely from her straight-backed chair; the echoes in the calm air of the morning unsettling, "I.. I must ask you to leave immediately!"

A low, hollow laugh was the only reply given to Arrine's order. "Who are you, to command me?"

"I am a..a.. shopkeeper." She lied eventually, "I sell apples in the square."

"How stupid do you think I am?!" The disguised voice said calmly, with a hint of anger, "Those untruths only further condemn your immortal soul!" Arrine said nothing to this. After a moment's pause, the figure continued. "What do you know about Wolfe, young lass?"

The figure pulled back it's hood, and Arrine gasped.

 

***

 

A humble knock at Wolfe's door surprised him. Had he not told all of his minions to let no one in? It was morning, he was tired, and he wanted to rest. What did a vampire king need to do to get respect? Ah, well.

"Come in," he said loudly, picking up his red wine glass and taking a gentlemanly sip. A familiar person walked inside, and he smiled.

"Arrine! Lovely to see you, my dear. Bored with the surroundings already?” He laughed lightly, walking to the windows and pulling back the curtains. "Ah, the lovely views. The busy busing bees, the people of Paris. Working, working, working! Do they never have any fun? Ah, well, enough of my musings..." He gazed fondly at the view from the window.

"Well, actually I--"

"Wine?"

"No, no thank you. You see, I really wanted to talk to you about--"

"Are you sure??"

"Quite certain. Now, as for the subject I've been--"

"Oh, its a very good year. Have you not a capricious spirit? I say, I was sure you did--"

"Enough of your games! Be silent and listen to me! LISTEN! Who is Yadira?" Wolfe dropped his wine, the red liquid leaking through the nearly-ancient floor boards.

"What did you ask me? Who have you been talking to?!"

"N-no one. I was just thinking that maybe you would know."

"Listen to me, my angel." He reached his hand towards Arrine's face, his cold fingertips making her shiver. "There are some questions that must be forgotten, do you understand? And you will NEVER ask me that again."

"Y-yes Wolfe."

"Good, good! Now, I have a question for you."

"Which is? Sir?"

"Will you marry me?"

Arrine felt as though she had been slapped, stabbed with a blunted blade, and then pushed off a mountain. She remained completely motionless, staring emptily at the vampire king. There were no words her sharp tongue could procure that would justify the feeling of vague disappointment welling up inside her.

"No," She said calmly, as though she were discussing the weather. Turning away from Wolfe and his attempted charm, she left the room. Wolfe was vexed by Arrine's response. She ruined his plan, turned, and walked out. He would have to think of something else, anything, to get her into the tomb. Willingly. His master, heaven help the twisted fiend, had emphasized that point endlessly. Etching it mercilessly into the side of his immortal skull. So much was at stake for him, he could not lose a battle. Wolfe decided then that he would drag her down by the hair if he needed to, but first... he would try what he had been hired for: his delightfully discovered skill in persuasion.

"Nightshade!" The vampire appeared out of nowhere, bowing elegantly before answering.

"Yes, Wolfe?"

"Bring me miss Arrine at once, if you please. Tell her its urgent."

"Of course, my lord." Bowing again, he fled from the room. The seconds seemed endless until the well-dressed Nightshade returned, with Arrine at his heels. Wolfe could see it had taken all of Nightshade's charm to convince her to come, she was not herself. The edges of her mouth were tight, and her beautiful eyes were cold as autumn's breeze.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" She said. Wolfe nearly swore, she had gone back to using a plain monotone. All the work he had begun, he knew, had to be re-done. So it would be, then.

"Yes, I did. Nightshade! Leave us." He pretended not to see Arrine's involuntary shudder as Nightshade bowed his way out of the chamber. Tactfully, he intoned, "I trust that, by now, you have realized the stupidity of an old vampire. For that, and that alone, was what my offer was. Completely thrill of the moment, why would I ever be interested in... You. Who is so new to our kind. There are women three times your age who would have died from happiness at that moment, but not you. Oh, never YOU." His tone matched her cold and uninterested greeting in nature.

"Of course." Wolfe's eyes flashed, and again he nearly lost himself at her vaguely evasive response.

"And you would like an explanation, given your inquisitive mind." It was not a question. It was a quiet order, a subtle hint, and Arrine understood at once his new method of attack.

"I suppose so." She said unenthusiastically, glaring at him again; as though reminding Wolfe to behave himself. But this action was wasted. Wolfe had turned away from Arrine and looked again out of his beautifully stained glass window.

"When I was young," he began, rehearsing the story he hated so, "I was mortal. At my eighteenth birthday, I met a wonderful maid. Free, and lonely. She loved me, knowing that we could never be together." He paused for effect, glancing at Arrine's reflection in the mirror. As he had expected, she appeared bewildered. "She was a vampire, and her name was..."

 

***

The young woman stared with placid, unfeeling green eyes at the bloody hand that reached over the edge of the cliff. The sun had long since set, and the stars twinkled faintly in the nighttime shadow of the fog-encrusted forest behind the woman.

"Lady... My lady.." A thing of horror, the hoarse voice was only a shadow of the person it had once been. "My lady, help me up." The woman turned away, crossing her spindly arms, fighting back the clear tears that threatened to erupt. She ignored his desperate, painful sounding cries, as she had been tricked into this before, and she would not again!

"Have you no pity!?" The mysterious stranger cried again, "Help me! For the love of Camazotz, help me!" The woman fought back the feelings again, and turned to leave. As she delicately placed her foot on the bottom stair of the exit from the cruel Barrow, the stranger spoke one more time. "You promised!" The woman, who had been reaching for the rail to support her as she climbed, froze immediately on her journey up the austere staircase, slowly turning towards the cliff.

Gracefully, she offered the figure her hand. It took it, and collapsed with relief on the hard, solid ground. As it stood, brushing the dirt from the dark cloak it wore. It moved slowly forward, in a menacing way, arms stretched out. "Now, its time I kept my promise..."

"Yadira!" The hag stirred restlessly, half-rising from her stained bed roll. "You all right?" Her gray eyelids fluttered open as quickly as they had closed, and she saw Dominick bending over her with a concerned expression on his prematurely aged face. Yadira, ignoring his concern, grunted sleepily in her typical dissatisfying reply.

"Yes, now let an old woman rest." She replied smugly, turning over. Sighing, Dominick stood and went over to the crackling fire, reflecting on the dreams that left him, left him as fast as ships on the cerulean sea.

Morning came on wings swift as death, and the four of them rose without the usual stubborn complaint or impertinent question. Sitka seemed particularly bright and awake, greeting them all with a happy greeting, he even had a kind word to say about Yadira. He had recently come onto the habit of making little nicknames for them all as the came closer and closer to Paris, a behavior that Lilith and Dominick discussed often.

They assumed that he was nervous about meeting Wolfe-- who was, after all, his father. If one knew Sitka as Lilith and Dominick had come to know him, you could see easily the mysterious shadows that moved around strangely-- almost nervously-- in his dark brown eyes. These shadows, well, they were thoughts that his friends were sure explained his bizarre behavior.

Someone should have warned them that it is never, ever safe to assume.

***

And so Wolfe had concluded his story, and now his group made his way down through forgotten caverns. Dark, musty caves that were filled with ancient treasure, and artifacts. Wolfe, the torch he clasped warm against his hollow skin, eventually stopped at a door that had rusted shut. A thick padlock hung from the knob, and Wolfe chuckled.

"Nightshade! Come forward!" Nightshade walked forward, his shoulders back, his dark skinned head raised high.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Open the door."

For the first time the soldiers of Wolfe and Arrine saw Nightshade afraid. For a brief moment, a frown replaced his fanged smile, and his eyes opened wide. However, to his credit, he instantly regained his composure. “Of.. of course, my lord." He then withdrew a knife from his belt. The knife gleamed slightly in the torchlight, and there were markings along the hue of the blade that no one had seen before. Markings that could not be recognized in the secrets of the dark. Nightshade, perhaps, saw the eyes of his underlings on the blade, for he strode forward with more speed then was necessary.

He struck the padlock, and as he did so, the blade began to glow with some strange sort of light. The markings on the blade began to fade, until they had gone completely. The padlock fell from the door, and Nightshade stepped back.

"There you are, my lord. Enter at your leisure."

"Oh, I'M not going in there. Have you gone daft, Nightshade? No, you're going in there." Nightshade gulped, and Wolfe raised his yellow eyebrows.

"Y-yes, Wolfe." He said, hesitantly making his way toward the arch-shaped entryway. As he stepped inside, the echoes of his footsteps were the only sounds in the crowded cavern.

"NIGHTSHADE!" Wolfe cried after a moment, "What do you see?"

"Gold!" Cried Nightshade, "Everywhere the gleam of gold!" Wolfe rolled his eyes, and turned to the soldiers.

"Come," He said, "Let us fetch your dramatic general." They all entered, until they came to Nightshade. He was smiling.

"Did you catch my Howard Carter quote?" He asked, winking at Arrine. Arrine blushed at his wink, and Wolfe seemed to notice it.

"Yes, I did. Why on earth would you say such a thing?"

"Well, I was feeling poetic."

"Poetic my vampiric--" Wolfe's sure-to-be-ugly retort was cut short, for a wide brimmed axe had severed Nightshade's head from his body.

The echoes of Arrine's screams carried up to the empty streets of Paris.