Truce, A Dangerous Game

~pre "Doomed Love"~
Sheela paused a moment, catching her breath, not sure where to go. The screaming had stopped, and these halls...she couldn't find her way in here. For perhaps the millionth time, she wished she had found Ardon wandering about. At least he would know where to look.
The sudden pad of footsteps ahead of her brought her back, and in the dim light, she caught a glimpse of long blonde hair as someone ran down the adjacent corridor. Sheela began her sprint anew. "Linae! Wait!"
The other Ranger stopped abruptly, and turned with surprise. "Sheela, what are you doing out here?"
Sheela took a gulp of air. "I heard- a scream," she panted.
Linae nodded solemnly. "As did I. But..." A large moth flittered up to her, and landed softly on her shoulder. "I don't think there's any danger."
"How do you know?"
Linae glanced down at the moth. "Well...Orion was scouting around, and he found Laurel on the way. She heard the scream, too, so he led her to where he thought it came from. Then he left, and he doesn't know what happened to Laurel form there."
Sheela stared at the moth, bewildered. "That little thing is Orion?"
Linae shrugged. "He likes scaring people. So he stays a unicorn most of the time."
"And the scream?"
"He thinks it was a trick. To get someone to come."
Sheela let out a long sigh. "Well, it worked. But, why would someone pull a nasty little gag like that?"
Linae looked equally answerless. "Even Orion can't get that one, but I was on my way to find out." A devilish grin played her lips. "We can still catch them, at least."
Sheela found herself grinning, too. "Sounds good to me. But, Linae..."
"Yes?"
"Could we, ah, run a tad bit slower? Long distance has never been a strength of mine."
The other Ranger laughed. "I could use a break, too." Both Rangers started off as the moth suddenly took flight. "Besides, Orion thinks he has a trace to follow. This should be easier than confounding an orc."
"Hah! No worries, then!"
***
Vrolok sniffed at the air; yes, the intruder had come this way.
With every passing moment, his doubts and uncertainties dissolved further, and his suspicions grew. Another vampire was stalking the castle-his castle-and it had the one thing he needed, the one piece of evidence he had to have; the huntress.
He felt something within himself change, thinking of her. It always did; and it always confused him. He tried to shake the feeling, but to his frustration, it lingered. The part that bothered him most, he thought, was the temptation. On several occasions; especially recently; he had been tempted to linger on it, to feed it, keep it. Sometimes, alone in his coffin, it would begin to haunt him, and he would let it grow by it's own fancy...until it began to manifest in more dangerous terrain. At this, he would stifle it angrily, but mostly it left him bewildered and uncomfortable...and strangely empty.
Vrolok realized, with some shock, that he had completely lost focus, as well as the trail. Cursing himself, he started a backtrack, and decided that it would be safe to shift at this point. With a single, fluid motion, he was airborne, leathery wings flapping madly in aged, stale air.
He could smell the trail, again.
Unfortunately, so could a nasty little moth flying ahead of him, and headed right at him. Vrolok could feel the other's mind, and chirped a warning. If this was the shifter he had sensed at the dinner party those long nights ago, he had every intention of staying out of it's way; but it didn't need to know that.
Vrolok felt an angry response directly to his mind, and felt the open touch of a third; it shifted, startled; before the link was severed.

Linae stumbled over herself, and Sheela skidded, mid-turn, trying to stop. She rushed back to the other Ranger. "What's wrong?"
Linae shook her head, looking dazed. "I- I don't know...I think- I think Orion connected with someone else while he was still with me..."
"Are you sure?"
Linae shrugged. "He's done that plenty of times before, but I was aware he was doing it at the time...and the third...this was open agression...I guess it caught me off-guard."
Sheela helped her friend up, only to watch the other's face turn to alarm. "Vrolok's headed this way."

It wasn't a good thing, to be in the shape of a bat, when you're opponent was a shifter. Vrolok reconsidered this. Actually, it wasn't good to have a shifter as an opponent, period. He could have laughed at the bitter circumstances.
The moth had changed back to a large, sturdy unicorn, confirming his previous assumption. Even worse, it was now determined not to let him pass. Vrolok could only chirp his irritation. The shifter, blue eyes icing him down where he flew, was sending nothing but threatening vibes.
Hike it, batty. Don't make me go medieval on your furry little-
Vrolok chirped angrily. I'd like to see you try, shifter. But I'd hate to mar that pretty little face of yours.
The other snorted. Bats are a delicacy in my homeland.
The vampire would have sneered. And how much did you say that horn was worth on the black market?
The shifter whinnied sharply, eyes full of scorn.
Vrolok caught the next victorious vibe too late.
A sharp whistle and a knife blade later, he found himself pinned to the wall, blade planted firmly and painfully into his left wing, and into the soft, aged wall behind. What started as a shriek ended in swearing as he shifted back...only to find that a knife through the arm was twice as bad as through thin wing leather. He bit back any more colorful expression as he pulled the knife from his arm. He was not at all thrilled to be able to see through to the other side.
He could hear laughter in his head.
I'm sorry, did that hurt?
"Wretched, hoof-legging-"
"Orion! Is it him?" Two women came running down the hall. Vrolok noticed a knife in the hand of the blonde one, and grimaced.
He held the bloody blade gingerly between two fingers, glaring. "I suppose this is yours."
The other woman snorted. "Appologies for not having a tolerance for blood-suckers."
"Well thank you for allowing me to discover first-hand what raw tendons look like," he retorted sharply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was actually in the middle of something important before being so rudely interrupted."
Oh, we're sorry, we didn't know vampires had lives. ...Oh wait, you don't, do you?
Vrolok's eye twitched. As soon as he found that huntress...
"Orion, knock it off." Linae could feel his fits of laughter as he severed his connection with the vampire.
The other Ranger woman stepped forward. "Where is Laurel?"
Vrolok glared. "Should I know? Should I care?"
"Well, she was hunting you, so I suppose that would be a yes on both accounts."
The vampire's eyes shifted away, and Sheela thought she caught something out of character in his face.
"You're not the only one who doesn't know where she is, Ranger."
The two women looked at each other, puzzled. "You haven't seen her?"
Yeah, the woman only spends half her time stalking you.
"ORION!"
Whaaat?
Vrolok gave them a dry look. "No I haven't seen her, but if you must know...I have my own reasons to try and find her."
Sheela glared. "And those would be?"
"Well, unless you can tell me why she hasn't killed me yet, that would be the first reason why I am searching for her."
Linae looked uneasy. "If you haven't seen her...how are you going to find her? If you have a lead, please, do tell."
It's the scent I was following, vampire scent...but I thought it was Vrolok's....
"No, that wasn't me."
Cold realization struck the Rangers. "That means..."
Vrolok nodded. "There is another vampire here. And that would be my other reason. Personally, I don't tolerate invasive behavior upon my grounds."
Yeah, go figure. We know that by now.
Linae ignored her friend. "But you know where they are?"
"I was going to find out. And you were headed the wrong way."
Sheela took a deep breath, to calm her nerves. This is crazy talk, but....
"We'll come with you."
Vrolok looked as shocked as her companions.
You CAN'T be serious. Linae! Tell your friend she's nutso!
Vrolok glared.
Linae could only shake her head. I don't like it either, Orion. But we have to know what's going on. And we have to save Laurel.
Orion snorted. Really. I didn't think suicide could help somebody.
Sheela waited a moment, watching the flicker of emotions on Linae's face, the only hint to the mental discussion taking place.
After a few moments, Linae nodded. "We're coming, too."
Vrolok snorted. "I suggest you all start moving, or she'll be dead by the time you finish chatting." With this, he shifted, and with a single screech, took off down the hall. Orion whinnied loudly, and took off after him, the Rangers following close behind.

Alliances, Vampires and Bait

Laurel sighed, staring pensively into the mirror. Absentmindedly she toyed with the cross hanging around her neck, thinking once again as night fell she was eager to look for Vrolok, but reluctant to hurt him. Sooner or later, this must end, she thought, and if I don’t kill him, then he will kill me- or my friends. I must be the one to do it, but why does the task seem so hard?
She stood up and walked to the dresser, fingering her stakes and knives, then decisively armed herself. I can at least bring them with me, she thought wryly.
Once more she looked into the mirror, at the pale, oval face framed with long, black hair and brown eyes. The lines of her jaw and the coldness in those eyes indicated the seasoned warrior she was, and must be. She opened the door leading out of her room and into the corridor and slipped out. Quietly she moved down the guest corridor, remembering who slept where. Sheela, Fia & Dalani, Avalon, Linae…the men were in the adjacent corridor. As she swept off to the lower parts of the castle, even her trained senses didn’t notice the large moth that landed on her hood.

Deep within the castle, a shadow stirred.
Silently, barely disturbing a mote of dust, it began to drift like smoke down through the dark and musty halls. Only half-aware of the world around it, the creature glided, ghost-like, towerd its master’s calling, following the mental pull. The creature was only aware that it had reached its destination when the pull stopped abruptly before two great, wooden doors. Taking no more notice than this, it glided through the doors in a corporeal state, and with a hiss of pleasure, found its master waiting on the other side.
“Maaasssterr,” it murmured, and shivered with anticipation. If master had called it, then there was blood to spill.
Beneath the deep black of his hood, Niam smiled menacingly.
“Come, my pet, there is work to be done.”
The shade drifted to the feet of its master, bowing low, but shaking all over, overcome with eagerness.
“Pet, you have a task. Complete this task for me, and rewarded greatly, you shall be.”
The shade peered up nervously, yellow eyes glowing fiercely with hope.
“Join maasssterr?”
“Yes, pet, joined with me, shall you be.”
The shade hissed with excitement. “I sspill blood for you, massterr! I shall, I shall!”
“No.”
The shade was silent abruptly. No blood? But that voice…that was not master…
Niam’s voice was tainted with sarcasm. “Aah, Umbrael, so you did decide to show up.”
A tall shadow in the corner of the room shifted, and a small chink of moonlight revealed the white gleam of a fang.
“I want the girl alive.” His deep voice glimmered hostility.
Niam chuckled; a sound from the crypt. “And what will you do with her, make her your Queen?”
“No, use her as bait.”
Now the Dark Lord was curious, and his eyes glowed reflectively beneath his hood.
“For what, Umbrael? The Shadowstone?”
“Precisely.”
“But why her?”
Niam caught the glint of fang as the vampire grinned.
“Because, I believe that my dear brother knows where it is, having been Entall’s right hand man, and it seems he has taken a sudden interest in that girl, as of late. He has passed up the chance to bite her on more than one occasion; for some reason, he won’t kill her. It may be just the lever we need, Niam.”
The other nodded. “I see. Then I shall have it done. You must bait her; my pet will do the rest.”
There was only a shriek in response, and the leathery sound of bat wings followed the vampires exit out the window.
Niam turned to the shade. “Alright, my pet, this is what you must do…”

Laurel froze, senses kicked abruptly into an extreme overdrive. Where was that coming from? At a run now, she followed the sound, ignoring her surroundings, senses acute to the screaming. Close! Lungs heaving, she began to sprint. She stopped abruptly as the screaming ceased. "Shikes, no..." She felt something move on her hood, and froze. A single, extremely large moth fluttered from her hood, toward a large oak door. It landed on the door handle, then flew back to Laurel's hand, and back to the door. "What in Fathron..." The moth fluttered off suddenly, back the way she had come. Laurel sighed. "I'm taking directions from a bug...great. My lifelong goal..." But it's my only lead...here goes nothing!
Laurel reached for the door handle.
Something grabbed her shoulder; a hand came over her mouth, and the grip on her shoulder changed to an arm that wrapped firmly around her, pinning her own arms to her sides. "So, the huntress..." a voice breathed in her ear. Her heart was pounding. Who was this? As if the stranger had read her mind, he turned her head enough to see his face. Laurel felt her heart skip, or maybe stop altogether...she couldn't know which, her mind was numb. It was Vrolok, so close she could feel his breath on her face. "It seems your mine now, lovely." The huntress felt a shiver run down her spine. His voice, it wasn't right...cold realization seeped in. This wasn't Vrolok. Laurel became aware of yelling in the other room. Vrolok's voice. But who... Before the thought could finish itself, the not-Vrolok was dragging her back down the hall.
*****
Vrolok pressed the seer harder against the wall. "I asked you a question! Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Aries only sneered at him, seemingly unaffected by the hand clasped about her throat, pinning her to the wall. She wasn't even struggling anymore. Something wasn't right. Vrolok leaned in close, fangs bared menacingly. "Don't think I won't kill you, woman." There was a fierce light in the seer's milky eyes, and Vrolok felt as though it were burning into him. She only smiled wickedly. "Kill me?" she hissed. "Kill me like you did the huntress?" Vrolok went cold. How... "I am a seer, you imbecile, and I know you left the huntress alive! Kill me, you say? You've gone soft!" "Silence!" he spat. "Why should the huntress concern you?" Now her eyes were deep with anticipation. "I think," she whispered, "the question is not why she concerns me, vampire, but why she concerns you." Rage swelled in the vampire, and his eyes began to glow a soft red. "That is none of your business," he uttered softly, dangerously. Aries' face had grown soft and emotionless again, and she stared passively at him. "Oh, but it is," she whispered. "And if you hurry, you might be able to save her." His eyes grew wide. "What have you done?" Aries winced as his grip tightened considerably. "I have done nothing, but I cannot say the same for a friend of yours." Vrolok dropped her abruptly, and strode from the room without a word.
*****
Aries leaned back against the wall, rubbing her throat with some irritation, but nonetheless feeling achieved. Her eyes were blank, but in her mind's eye, she watched Laurel be carried off, captive and captor unaware of the extensive planning that had finally been played out, watched Vrolok follow what trail he could find, watched the other guests remaining squabble about in confusion. Momentarily she let her visions wander back to Vrolok and Umbrael. Fools, she thought. Neither of them knew. And would never know. Suddenly her visions found a new track, and she shifted her focus to watch. It was Concord again, headed for the burnt out shell of the castle. Probably another message for Umbrael. That fool Niam...he would suffer for trying to break his alliegiance. Try to work under a seer's nose? Very well, Niam, very well...

Umbrael held Laurel in an iron grip, so tight it was almost painful. He was carrying her now, with one hand tightly clamped over her mouth so she couldn’t yell. Her head was close enough to his chest for her to notice the strange silence where his heartbeat should’ve been. Her mind raced quickly, but she forced the rising panic down, forced herself to remain clearheaded. This creature who carried her was not Vrolok, but looked like him. He, too, was a vampire, though she wondered if he would drink her blood...his attitude toward her somehow didn’t point in that direction. Why wouldn’t he have just turned into a dark corridor and have been done with it? But vampires, she knew from experience, were unpredictable...And this one seemed to be a powerful vampire, because for all the garlic she was either wearing or smelled of, he didn’t seem too bothered. Laurel twitched her arm slightly, seeing if she could somehow escape his grasp. No luck there, she was held fast. The vampire chuckled softly when he felt her arm move, her actions not going unnoticed.
“Don’t worry, Laurel, you won’t find me as weak as Vrolok. Or as reluctant to kill,” he added, sounding amused.
“Are you working together, you and Vrolok?” Laurel asked demandingly. For some reason, the vampire thought this was amusing and chuckled again.
“He is working for me whether he knows it or not,” the vampire answered, unperturbed by Laurel’s cold tone. Umbrael then turned abruptly to the left and went down a small flight of stairs, practically hidden in the shadows, bringing them closer to the cellars of the castle. He walked down a narrow corridor and came to a door at the end of it, the only place the corridor led. It was wooden and sturdy, with thick metal hinges. He knocked four times and then pushed open the door. The room inside seemed pretty nondescript, though it was cold. The stone walls were unadorned and Laurel couldn’t see any windows, though the room turned a corner, it seemed, and she couldn’t see what was over there. Umbrael carried her over to a metal table with straps bolted to it. Fearing what was about to happen next, as soon as Umbrael relaxed his hold to lay her on the table, she tore herself out of his arms and rolled over the other side of the table, dropping to her feet, tensed, like a cat. She quickly pulled a stake and a knife out of her belt, but as she did so Umbrael seemed to disappear, his body slowly breaking up as if it was just pieces of dust. Which, Laurel reminded herself, it almost was. She had seen this vampire trick before, though, and was on guard, looking all around her. She turned slowly around in a circle, moving to the other side of the table, still tense, looking for the telltale swirling dust that would tell her the vampire’s whereabouts. The hair on her neck rose, and she stood still, readying her throwing knife. Then suddenly, she whirled about and threw it, fast and hard, without even taking time to aim. True to her instincts, Umbrael stood behind her, still not quite complete, but whole enough that the knife struck him. Laurel would’ve followed it through with her stake, but she knew that the vampire was barely wounded by the knife, though it struck him in the shoulder. To attempt to kill him then was suicide. She backed away from him quickly and put the metal table between them, wanting more space. Umbrael looked in surprise at the knife protruding from his shoulder, but then pulled it out. Smoke slowly rose from his wound, and though it tried to heal, it couldn’t close completely. Laurel gave him a small grin, seeing his surprise.
“You must have never been hunted, at least by a true hunter,” she said, grabbing another knife from her belt.
“These were made especially to harm and kill your kind,” she whispered venomously, indicating her knives and stakes. Outwardly, Umbrael showed no emotion to her comment, but inwardly he seethed. True, he had never been found by any hunters, and therefore had only heard of their stinging blades. Laurel threw a knife at him again, fast enough so that even a vampire would have trouble dodging, but Umbrael was ready this time and threw himself to the side. The knife clanged harmlessly against the wall. Then he quickly rolled underneath the table, the legendary vampire speed and agility showing in his movements. He flung himself against Laurel’s legs, but as she was being knocked down she kept a hold on the stake and tried to impale Umbrael through the back, hoping to hit his heart. However, it only brushed his side and made a small wound as Umbrael twisted to avoid it, sensing her movements. Then Laurel was pinned to the ground, her arms securely held by the vampire, his weight keeping her legs from thrashing out and kicking him. His face only inches from hers, he smiled, affording her a clear view of his elongated canines. A shiver crept down Laurel’s back, but she kept her face cold and full of hatred.
“ I will admit, you have some skill,” he whispered. His black eyes looked into hers, and he grinned again. “But not enough.” He easily lifted her to her feet, prying the stake out of her hand and throwing it to the side, keeping a firm grip on her. He dragged her over to the table, since Laurel refused to walk. He set her on the table and held her arms down. Carefully, he buckled the strap that went around her chest and pinned her arms tightly against her side. Laurel, still wanting to fight, spat at him. Umbrael brushed the spit off of his face without emotion, though he was surprised at the nerve of this woman. He buckled the strap that went about her legs. Then he paused, and looked at her. She returned his look fiercely, though he could feel her fear.
“Tell me,” Umbrael began, walking back over to stand by her head, “ why is it that my brother is so captivated by you? What is it about you that has stopped him from drinking your blood on more than one occasion?” He noticed Laurel’s eyes widen, and realized why.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Umbrael,” he said with dignity, bowing low. “And, yes, Vrolok is my brother. My twin brother, actually.” Laurel stayed silent, digesting all of this information. Was Vrolok aware that his twin was in the castle? He had to be! And if that was the case, he had to be in league with him, even if this Umbrael denied Vrolok’s involvement with him. Umbrael turned his back on her and carefully picked up one of the knives she had thrown at him, the one that had not hit him.
“I wonder,” he said, staring at the knife. “What would a hunter’s blade do to its master? After all, to some extent, the hunter must become like a vampire, aware of his motives and familiar with his strengths and weaknesses. But would it harm him-or her-at all?” He walked over to Laurel, knife in hand. She tensed, and tried to reach for another knife or stake at her belt without him noticing. He gently but firmly turned her head to the side, exposing her neck. Laurel tried to thrash and wriggle, and worked harder to reach the knives at her belt, but he was firm. She closed her eyes, determined not to give him the pleasure of seeing her fear. She felt the knife-her knife-draw a short line across her throat, but it was not over her jugular and barely broke the skin. Umbrael took the knife away from her throat and made the same kind of cut on both of her arms. None of the cuts were deep or life-threatening in any way, though she could tell that they would bleed a little. Umbrael turned away from her then, and walked to the corner of the room Laurel had not been able to see earlier. She turned her head, but all she could see was Umbrael’s back. He was no longer holding her knife, and seemed to be conversing with someone. She could distinguish Umbrael’s low voice, and wondered who he was talking to. Then she heard another voice, a voice that sent shivers all over her body, much worse than the normal effect vampires had on people. She tried harder to see who she was talking to, but she saw only shadows, made even darker since there was only a few torches lit in the room. She realized now that Umbrael did not intend her to be his prey, though she was still highly suspicious of him. No; it seemed to her now that she was some kind of bait, or she was for someone else...and that notion was far from friendly. Laurel silently worked to reach one of the knives at her belt, hoping she would be able to defend herself from whatever was to come.

The Heart's Dagger

Laurel was shocked back to instinct as something sharp pricked her neck, and she drew back forcefully, wild eyed. Her heart was throbbing in her ears, and her hand went to her throat, feeling at the spot. With a tremor of relief, she felt no blood, just a tiny indent.
Vrolok watched her with eyes full of pain, turned away, and she could see the way he licked angrily at the long canines protruding just beyond his lips. "I'm sorry..." His voice was barely a murmur.
Laurel's throat tightened, and she glanced at the stake lain to rest upon the cobbles. "I have to go."
He turned slowly, avoiding her eye. "Why?"
"I- they'll come looking for me if I don't-"
"No." He gave her a hard look. "I meant, why did you do this?"
She gazed at him, trying to read something beyond the pain in his face. Anger? She felt her skin prickle.
He began to shake his head, a bitter grin on his lips. "This." He tossed her back her cloak, and gestured at the stake on the floor, bit at his lip.
"Why didn't I kill you?"
"Hmm, no. I think I have that figured out by now, Laurel."
She felt herself blush, and caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"No. Not that...but..."
"Why did I...?"
"...Trust me?"
She could only watch his features turn slowly questioning, a soft prod, eyes locked to hers. Suddenly, she coudn't find her voice.
Something in his eyes changed. Concern, to reproof, and hurt. "You don't even know, do you?" He looked away. "Hmm. Why should you trust me."
"Vrolok..."
"No, just...go. You said you had to go. They'll be looking for you by now."
"They're all asleep."
He turned sharply, glaring. "You'll trust me with your life, but you won't even tell me truthfully why you want to get away from me? What do you want from me, huntress? Amusement?"
"No, that's not-"
"Then what?"
"I just...you're still..."
Bitterness filled the whole of him, and she could see it plainly. "I can't help what I am. If that repulses you so, then you should just leave."
"No."
"What, haven't toyed with me enough, yet? Need to use me again, and try to find a good reason to kill me?"
She stood, dead silent, shocked.
He glared at her. "Need I give you one?"
She glared back, hot anger flushing through her now. "I have more than enough good reasons, but if you weren't so blind, you would see that my so-called amusement more than outweighs the desire to drive a bloody stake through your heart!"
"You still want to kill me, so why don't you?!"
"You still want to drink my blood, why don't you!"
There was a long silence, and as both felt their rage drain into their sorrows, they could only watch the other.
When he finally spoke, Vrolok's voice was no more than a whisper. "You can't know how this feels. To want..." She could catch the strain in his voice. He turned away. "To want someone like this...and at the same time...want to do the worst thing you can to them. And not be able to fight it."
Laurel could hardly swallow. Her words were a forced murmur. "You think I don't? I'm driven, by the same instinct...this is my life, as much as yours."
His laughter was soft. "You must think yourself quite dead, then."
She shook her head. "It's true, the huntress part of me, my very being...it's who I am. It's that part of me that considers a wooden stake and a ring of garlic my two best friends." She paused, feeling her composure tremble. "But I didn't kill you."
He glanced up at her. "Why?"
"For the same reason as you, I think." She felt her throat tighten, and her eyes began to itch and burn. "I just couldn't."
She swallowed hard, and felt the first salty drop hit her lips, roll down her chin, and another down her cheek. She suddenly felt arms come around her; softly, almost timidly; and collapsed into them, sobbing silently. Vrolok pulled her close, saying nothing, content just to hold her again. Unbidden, he felt his own eyes begin to sting. He sighed. Laurel shivered, wracked with tears, and he felt them seep through the thin fabric of his shirt, cool and damp on his skin. How long had it been, since he had been this close to someone? Since he had known his own tears? Since he had known someone elses? He forced these thoughts away, and sank to the floor, leaned against the wall, Laurel cradled quietly in his arms. He still felt her small, irregular gasps of breath as an occasional sob would quake her, but her tears were no longer a torrent. He was surprised to feel her relax at last, her head rested on his chest. Her eyes began to droop heavily, and he realized she hadn't slept at all that night. She looked up at him once, eyes so full of trust, that it struck him with a pang to the heart.
Soon after, her eyes closed, and he knew she had dozed off.
He held her for a long while after.

Confrontations and Confusion

It was a long while later that Sheela awoke. She was shocked to see where she had dozed off, and more so to see who sat in a chair across from her, gazing at the heavenly sky. Even in the silvery moonlight, his eyes still seemed to have their own golden glow, and for once, she thought he looked at rest. Slowly, she crept off the couch, hoping to slip away quietly, and stole a last, furtive glance back at him.
“You’re the awful sly type, Ranger.” He hadn’t even glanced at her. She froze.
“How did you…”
He turned to look at her, grinning, as if her bewilderment amused him. “You’ve been asleep awhile.” She sighed. “It’s late, and it’s been a long day…a long week…I guess I was worn out.”
“Hah. You don’t cook for fourteen and some guests every night and day. And you’re the one who’s tired?”
She laughed, and he smiled back at her, the first display of truly heartened emotion that she had seen in him for a while. Or from anyone, for that matter, she thought.
He glanced back at the moon, hesitated. “It’s awful late, Sheela. You probably aught to get back to your rooms and get some sleep.”
For a moment, she was stunned. “Ah, yes, I- I guess I should go…” She glanced out at the dark halls, and felt a chill pass through her. “But I’m not really sure…” Their eyes met, and she could feel the odd tension between them. Then he blinked and looked away.
“I’ll take you to the right hall.” He passed by her without another word, and she tried to fight back the disappointment growing as she followed him.

Sheela gave a soft sigh as her door came into view.
“Well, here you are, Miss Windrow.”
She glanced back at Ardon, a sad look in her eyes.
“Ardon, you called me Sheela earlier…”
“I- I’m sorry, that was out of place, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s not that I didn’t…”
“Sheela, I- ”
“Yes?”
“I…”
She turned around to face him, and they were so close that she could see her amber reflection in his eyes. She felt her heart racing, her throat tighten…and something else she had never felt before, something she couldn’t name…and she liked it. He drew a little closer, but she stayed frozen to the spot. He was even closer now…closer…she could feel his warm breath on her mouth…His lips brushed hers, leaving a tingling sensation, and a shiver ran down her spine…
“Hello?”
Sheela jumped, and for a split second felt her lips press against his. Then they both leaped back, shock a shared expression, and spun in unison toward the voice.
Avalon paused as she recognized the faces of Sheela and Ardon in the dim lamplight.
“Ah….I’m not interuptin’ anythin’, am I lassie?” she asked slowly. She watched, with naught a little amusement,
as they both turned scarlett. Ardon, in particular, looked mortified as he glanced back at the Ranger, as if he had done
something unspeakable.
“You two all right?”
Sheela regained her wits first. “Ahm, yes, fine thank you, Avalon. It’s late, I’ll be heading to bed.” She nodded at Ardon, avoiding looking him in the eye, and rushed to her room, shutting the door with a firm click.
Ardon watched her go, his eyes distant-looking. Then he blinked, staring at Avalon as though he had just noticed her.
A fiery eyebrow rose. “And you, laddie?”
“Ah, right, I should get going…” He turned and started back down the hall, but the theif gave a low whistle of reproof. “Back out there, aye? I’m thinkin’ that shant be yer best idea yet, boyo. You’d better stay in one of these rooms fer the night, to be safe.” She paused, thinking. “In fact, we might as well all stay on the same hall from now on, fer safety reasons. We can move Red an’ Marles in the morn. Don’t want anyone caught by one o’ his vermin!” She paused dramatically, grinning wickedly. “Besides, I shant think that Miss Windrow would enjoy buryin’ ye six feet under if somethin’ did happen to ye, lad!” She watched, with an immeasurable surge of satisfaction, as his face flushed scarlett all over again. You still got it, lass! She thought triumphantly.
Ardon glared. “And Balinor?”
It was her turn to blush. “That…That’s all been taken care of, laddie.”
An equally wicked smirk formed upon his lips. “And he’s staying in…”
“That’d be none o’ yer business, aye!” And the door was slammed abruptly in his face.
* * *
Sheela was beside herself. “Bloody Fathron! What in the world was I thinking?! Shikes!” She paced the room, thankful subconciously that it was a large room, but the rest of her mind was in a tumult, and swearing profanities seemed the only way to vent all of her built up emotions, most of which she did not even understand.
It was several more minuites before she felt weary enough to sit down. She was tired, but her head was in an endless buzz; she felt as if she had been drinking too much rum, omitting the disorientation. I wish it were that simple, she thought desperately, just a night at the pub with Rellen and Morgan…She sighed. Even just to go home and see the ocean…idly she picked up a small mirror left on the nightstand, and gazed critically at her reflection.
The blue dye virtually gone, only her simple reddish brown locks remained, framing her face in a common, unexotic manner. Here and there, she could pick out a strand which still held stubbornly to a fading cerulean color, but other than that, her natural hair color had returned. I’ll have to dye it again soon, she thought, for the Festival of Tides. But maybe I’ll wait ‘till I can go home.
She was turning toward the nightstand, reflection in the glass mirror wistful, when the screaming began.
The mirror slipped from her fingers, shattered on the wood floor, and lay forgotten as the Ranger bolted for the door

Love of the Doomed...

Laurel crept down the dark passageway, the dry scent of the dead clogging her sense. Or maybe it wasn't a scent at all.

She really didn't care any more. She had to find him.

As the passageway grew darker, danker, more narrow, she knew this was the right way. Where else would the undead hide? It was always the same. A cold, stone crypt, a cool, smooth wooden coffin. A pale, slumbering figure, the shade of ash, hair of greasy black and rose petal lips. Except Vrolock; midnight black, and suddenly rose petals sounded so delicious. Laurel shook her head and went on.

She had lost track of time. She only knew by distance now, by sense; she could taste the aged air, fermented beneath crypts and spiced with wandering souls. No doubt, confused victims of Vroloks. Laurel felt her heart flutter. She stopped. Could she really do this? She tried to play out the images in her mind; a wooden stake, sharp and strong, rough in her hands. That same stake, bathed in blood, while her hunted lay dying silently in their coffin. She almost shrieked as she tried to replace those thousand faces with Vrolok's.

It was the thick dust mote drifting by that shook her from her reveries. The mote was moving too quickly. Then she heard it; the scrape of a boot behind her. The stake was in her hand before she turned, lunging, bloodlust and instinct a sudden, wild drive. A hand caught her wrist, stopped it dead, hurting her. She cried out, and tried not to look up. She couldn't look into those eyes, she couldn't....

Another hand came to her face now, cradling, and the first loosened. "Laurel."

She knew that voice. She looked up. Staring back at her, Vrolok looked the most alive as any vampire ever had. His eyes held naught the dead, empty void she had always seen in others. His were black jade, obsidian, bright with emotion, but tempered softer. For her. She shivered. I can't think like this. I can't...I can't let my...

He brushed the side of her cheek softly, and leaned toward her neck. She stiffened. "I can't..."
"I won't," he murmured softly, a tickle in her ear. Rose petal lips found her pale throat, and kissed lightly.

The stake slipped from distracted hands, and clattered to the cobbles, forgotten.