VIGGO

The pub's walls oozed pale moisture from the ghostly, wound-like cracks scattered across its ancient facade. A few shuffling gray forms lurked outside, their low mocking comments striking me as I slowly opened the filthy door. Yes, on this bitterly damp night I tried one last time, making one last attempt to see if this unfamiliar world's cruel dredges offered me any hope. I punished myself until the foggy air I breathed accused me in mockingly acidic tones. I didn't know if my search provided reassurance or hope... at times I wondered why I still obsessively picked through London's spectacular squalor. I fought against those dark times and pushed on, constantly searching for... a dream? A bitter memory? A specter?

Upon entering this decrepit tomb I cautiously glanced at the burly, black-haired barkeep. This would prove another useless mission yet I promised myself once back at the hotel I'd receive a generous reward: a large brandy or two... or three...

The swarthy young barkeep presented me the classically sullen stare. An impressive mental collection of such abrasive stares already existed deep in my soul. His ugly look made a fine addition to the rancid pile. Other inhabitants glanced my way, stared blankly then returned to their respective poisons.

In my haste I ignored the required small talk. My exhaustion defeated the trivial effort. "Have you seen this man?" As I spoke I offered the barkeep my sacred talisman, a tattered photo taken in a saner life. "He was sighted in this area some time ago." While the ruffian peered at the photo a despairing sigh invaded my mind. This morose hole echoed every other filthy pub in this exquisitely decayed area, built on hopelessness, spilled drink and certain death. I didn't belong here.

Neither did my lovely Orlando.

The swarthy man scratched his flaking chin. In another world he might have been almost handsome, yet here he merely blended into the suffocating rot. "I don't rightly know, sir, we get many a lost soul in 'ere, if ye know what I mean... "

There it was, the same leering, subservient grin laced with supreme contempt. His narrowed eyes examined my expensive garb; I swore I heard him calculating how much my suit would fetch in the rag market. I wondered what price my fresh corpse would fetch at a medical school? Damn, before continuing my mission I must visit a street market and purchase worn clothing. Time to stop making myself a fool in my eagerness to begin my search, not thinking ahead to the dire consequences. I looked rich and hence I must be hated. A simple, dreadful truth which I completely understood.

Enough. In answer to my new tormentor's dismissive grin my forbidding stare sharpened. Years of dealing with servants crafted my regal stare. If need be I humbled people with it. My stare is nothing I admire myself for; it's a completely inbred trait, much like insanity. In response to my sudden harsh stare the cretin whined and abruptly dropped his defiant glare to the filth-encrusted bartop. "Well, like I said, ye know so many come in 'ere not wantin' to be seen... 'e might 'ave been in 'ere but, well."

Ah, now comes the subtle bargaining. I understood this part all too well. "Maybe this will help you remember," I breathed coldly. A few coins clattered against the bartop's stained wood. How many times had I resorted to bribery over these past years? Ahh, what did it matter? I possessed enough funding to waste on this possibly useless pursuit.

The coins barely hit the scarred wood before the barkeep claimed them. I briefly wondered how many pockets had given up their meager wealth to those quick young claws. This time a fawning smile graced my bought friend's coarse lips. His fingers tugged at the photo's fraying edges. I released the image with reluctant slowness, allowing the man to bring the beloved face up to his bleary eyes. Earnest squinting occupied seconds until the filthy hand delivered the flattened memory back into my conspicuously clean grip. That's something else I must remember; make my smooth, upper class banker's hands as foul as possible.

"No sir, I never seen 'im. Although he looks a little bit like ye. Yer both 'ave 'igh cheekbones."

I bit back bitter words before they filled the stifling air. How clever the barkeep was to notice such an minor detail! I murdered my frustration and managed a calm reply. "Yes, he's my cousin... Orlando Bloom. He's been missing for a few years but now he's been seen in London. I'll check back later. If you see him I'm sure you'll remember his face. He's, well, noticeable. Oh, and there's a extra reward for finding out where he lives."

What might pass for an intelligent expression sharpened the man's grimy countenance. "Well then, my fine sir, I'll keep me eyes peeled as potatoes!"

"I'm sure you will." As peeled as that rotted potato you call your brain cruelly tripped through my bitter mind. Some strange part in me, the part that found anthropology fascinating in college, now wanted to ask how could human beings could sink so low? This decrepit creature contained my same basic genetic make-up but what went so miserably wrong? This cloying area contained similar dismal creatures and I couldn't accept them as my human kin. The rich banker within me screamed get the hell of here before someone killed me due to my well-bred looks. Yes, I recently read the Dutch reporter Jacob Riis' book on New York city slums, and read Thomas Henry Huxley's words on these very London slums but the words never prepared me for the appalling reality. Never. Words could never truly expose humanity's desperate rot.

Of course when in New York City I avoided these dangerous areas. Instead I contributed to the proper social charities. Here I had no choice. My London search drove me straight into the teeming filth. Ha, once I thought myself open-minded but lately my travels proved me quite wrong. I hated, God, I totally detested the ignorance. I hated these miserable people with an instinctive ease, yes, I loathed everything they represented. No wonder they hated me with equal ease. In their needy eyes I was a repulsive, wealthy monster. Were they wrong to hate me? Of course not.

Darkness' advent inflated escaping to my civilized hotel. Quick steps across filthy cobbles strewn with unimaginable rotted scraps carried me to the more civilized street where my carriage and hired driver anxiously awaited my return. "Mr. Mortensen, at last! I was worried about ye, sir! 'Tis almost dark and no one of good breeding should be around this area after dark. It's bad enough you're here in the light," scolded Ian, my elderly coachman.

"I lost track, Ian... I lost track of the time," I murmured. Damn, if only I could loose track of everything.

Once I rested safely against the cushioned seat a frustrated sigh tore free. "Four years, damn you, four years of chasing! Where the hell are you?" I whispered to the dark night, my eyes morosely gazing at the desperate scenery crawling past the carriage's narrow windows. "Where the hell are you?"

The stately old hotel's appearance jarred me from my despondent reverie. The servile bell cap and staff proved as annoying as the crooked young barkeep for the opposite reason. Since I wanted refuge in my expensive room I rebuffed the bell captain's bowing overtures with a rudeness that would normally appall my over-bred senses. No, fine breeding didn't enter this grim picture.

Wait. A grimace twisted my lips. Before I mounted the stairs I realized I needed their fawning services. After offering the bell captain a tight smile I requested a simple meal be brought to my room as soon as possible. He bowed in his overwhelming gratitude to serve their wealthy American guest, yes sir, thank you sir. Yes, their rich guest wanted solid British food in his uneasy stomach before he succumbed to his dreamy brandy.

Once secured behind the ornate oak door I stretched out with my promised massive brandy. I offered my glass a flawed grin and downed a healthy gulp, welcoming the liquid's stinging song. Over the past few months its seductive song had become much too welcome. After another sip I mockingly saluted the beautiful, dark-maned vision taunting my soul. "Perhaps if I drink enough I'll see you again, eh?" I breathed. Brandy number two danced its way into my glass with alarming ease.

After brandy number two I paced back and forth across the suite, an activity that helped my tortured mind review the past week's fruitlessness. The mere thought of returning into the Whitechapel morass filled me with dread, yet the grim task must be done. I knew Orlando hid there: I knew my cousin lived somewhere in that teeming mass of decadence and poverty. What truly bothered me was why did Orlando remain there? Why would Orlando, a gently-bred, spoiled heir, hide in London's dangerous slums? Of course Orlando had lived with my Aunt Ada and Uncle Emerson in London until he was six but still, my Uncle Emerson's post as head archeologist for the British Museum let them live in wealth. Once he moved in with my family after his parent's tragic death Orlando grew up in supreme luxury. He adored being a rich boy. I of all people knew my lover was a sensual, coddled, naturally regal brat.

More importantly, why would my Orlando hide from me? What truly happened to my beloved cousin? We loved each other... at least I still hoped that to be true. Yet I felt it, yes, I still felt my wild Orlando's enduring love. I didn't understand how I felt the gentle emotion but I did.

These questions burned through my mind as effortlessly as the brandy burned down my throat. After the letters ceased coming from Turkey the first two years consisted of searching and listening to the endless reports of private detectives as they combed Turkey for any small clue. God, why hadn't I gone there and hauled Orlando back home while I had the chance? You knew the answer, you cruel idiot; you still blamed Orlando for so much.

Now I also blamed myself for being a callous fool.

Bah. Yes, I waited until after Orlando vanished to foolishly visit Turkey. When I arrogantly ignored the advice to stick to civilization during the vicious Turkish night I was set upon by bandits on a remote country road. That violent phase of my search landed me in British military hospital, downed with a broken arm and a nearly shattered skull. Oh, how I hated that brutal country for swallowing my dear lover and nearly taking my own life.

After Orlando accessed our one secret joint bank account I knew he sent me a signal and I finally traced him to Paris. Now these last two years of nothing but scattered "perhaps" and vague sightings tossed my last hopes into despair's cruel maw. This time Orlando had been sighted in London, sighted where the Ripper performed his ghastly work only a few years ago. I traveled to see for myself, trusting London a little more than Turkey. Not much more, but at least I spoke the language in those slum pubs.

I should expect this bitter treatment from Orlando, the selfish brat. What more should I expect from the adventuresome witch who seduced me when he was only 18 and I a ripe old 30? Now years later I scrambled on my damnable chase around the world. I realized I slowly lost any stable perspective about the chase since my intense loss and love drove me on. Yes, my love and loss combined with the guilty memory of our last night, after... damn, no, Viggo, there's no time to remember such sad details now.

I contemplated the caressing brandy once more. Just another two glasses would surely produce the desired effects: a blessed numbness that became more and more necessary for sleep. Nothing else made sense so why not give in to my illogical need? I possessed few vices; in my mind a wicked temper and an increasing dependence on brandy headed the list. I am sure others regarded being in love with my male cousin as a shade more serious vice. Instead I accepted my consuming love. A subtle kink in my well-bred world allowed such a forbidden love to exist.

A drunken snicker parted my slack lips. Hell, it's not as if I turned into my drunken Father. No, dear Father wouldn't look for his shoes let alone search for a disgraced cousin for four years but when in a foul mood my aging Father would drink enough brandy to paralyze an elephant. I am sure his mood proved fouler these days, it fueled by my lengthy absence. Yes, if I kept this search up for too much longer Father would order me back to New York, he demanding my return to my tedious vice-president's position at the family banking empire. Only my dear Mother kept furious Father from disowning me. Poor Mother; I think she sensed something between Orlando and myself that she couldn't comprehend due to her gentle breeding but in her heart she knew I must be left alone to search. She knew. The rest of the family thought I was mad... if they only knew the real truth. If they only knew why I searched for the man who instilled a lustful disease into my heart and soul. I know Father suspected my relationship with Orlando but he would never admit the stark truth. Never. Ha, admit his stable eldest son loved another man let alone his own young, renegade cousin? No, he'd rather kill me. Poor strict Father would prefer that had I died back that British military hospital.

Damn, a new tension headache sought admittance into my crowded head. These moments occurred frequently after that damaging blow against my skull's base.

A subtle knock sounded on the door, jarring me from my tangled thoughts. I admitted the discreet waiter into my room. He served my food and after eating mechanically I grasped the brandy decanter and headed for the luxurious bedroom and blessed oblivion. Trouble was I never dreamed anymore. Being parted from my Orlando had killed my dreams.

VIGGO

"Mr. Mortensen, I may be out of line, but where you're asking to go is about as dangerous as it gets, begging your pardon, sir." Ian gazed at me with an expression reflecting my own dread. Upon reading my sad eyes Ian's face softened before he shook his thick white hair. "I just wanted you to know that, sir, because I'm right worried about you. In my humble opinion you are taking too many chances here, young sir."

"I appreciate the worry, Ian, but I am performing my search in a methodical fashion and I must search this district next. Unfortunately I must do the footwork; I don't trust anyone else to be as meticulous. Yet see? Today I dressed properly for the role." I lifted my arms, displaying the tattered black suit I had created just this morning. Since the idea of haunting one of the disgusting London markets didn't appeal to me I merely took my older black suit, rubbed dirt into the fabric and attacked it with my razor. The destruction felt quite therapeutic. Ha, when I left the hotel my worn garb gained me many a puzzled look. "Believe me, Ian, I must search alone."

Loyal Ian stared at me, a mix of pity and anxiety staining his confused blue eyes. He was used to dealing with arrogant nobles looking for sport in the decayed streets but I suppose this one strange American haunting the slums for another reason puzzled him in a different manner. "Very well, my young sir, but please be ever so careful, if you don't mind me saying so."

I nodded and found a grim smile for him. The poor man had put up with me for the past months so I valued him. Yes, when my search ended I planned on making Ian wealthy enough to retire. "Ian, my loyal companion, I appreciate your true concern but I must search alone. Indulge me." As I spoke I swung my body into the carriage's cushioned grasp.

The careful descent into the disreputable district where hovels represented homes filled my soul with fresh despair. The Shoreditch area lived up to its reputation as the Calcutta of England, the horrible streets teeming with the desperate poor and the forgotten. A doctor could fill multiple hospitals with the sick people I saw during our drive. When the congestion on the narrow, cobbled streets worsened to a dead stop Ian deposited me at a filthy corner. I told him to leave. Of course the loyal fellow argued with me but I assured Ian I could walk over to the City of London walls after this stop. I told Ian to pick me up before the forbidding Tower of London in an hour. I didn't think I could stand this area for longer, plus I certainly didn't want the fine old gent's life on my hands by making him wait for me here. After Ian finally relented he moved the carriage away as swiftly as he could through the bleak humanity.

The fetid swarm depressed me. I noticed a few people glanced my way so I forced my refined face to reflect the painful area's atmosphere. I kept my light gaze fixed against the filthy cobbles but my senses remained screamingly alert. Yes, ha, getting knifed in the back might slow my search.

Near Boundary Street I entered another crowded, gray-hued pub, the disgusting space packed with the lost at midday. Once through the door I pushed past filthy bodies and arrived at another darkly scarred bar. I swore a gruesome factory churned out these crude bars complete with the already decayed appearance. The sour air's stench filled my constricted throat with a silent gag.

I controlled the ill-timed gag. My very life depended on my self control. "Mate! Excuse me... 'ere, mate, I need to talk to ye," I called in a horribly faked accent. Ha, I sounded appallingly stupid.

The massive barkeep threw me a suspicious glare before he moved away from chatting with his cronies. My new collection benefited from his hard, nasty look. Familiar bile rose in my throat. Since his slow, lumbering approach peaked my anger I tried controlling my natural repulsion. When the wretch stared at me I kept my cultured voice low, desperately trying to maintain a lower class accent, yet I knew by how he looked at me I failed miserably at my task. "I'm lookin' for this 'ere man... 'ave you seen 'im recently?"

The huge barkeep continued staring at me, his piggish eyes granting me no quarter. His small, brown eyes developed a look he must practice on feeble-minded dolts. "And what if I 'ave? What's it ta ye?"

You annoying pig! "Please, mate, 'ave you seen 'im?" My despairing mask slipped through my facade. In this dangerous area it wasn't smart to appear too eager. It also wasn't a smart idea to make enemies. Hell, it wasn't smart to draw breath here but so be it.

The large man coughed, his chest heaving in effort. The physical act moved something evil in his thick throat. I instinctively recoiled and quickly hoped the foul mucus stayed within his hulking anatomy. "Mmm, I may 'ave seen 'im," he admitted.

Yes, fine, here we go again. I pulled out a small fortune in coin and carefully tucked the metal discs into the man's half-torn pocket. My fingertips crawled in dread. I dropped the fake accent and lied about my finances. I had more but by now I knew how to barter. "Please... that's all I have left. This man is my cousin. He's been missing for years and I have been searching for ever so long. Can you tell me anything useful?"

Luckily my generous financial oiling loosened both the barkeep's tongue and his noxious flem. After elaborately spitting on the crusty floor he leaned towards me. Hell, his callous stare raked over every pore. Oh yes, he knew how much I detested him. He felt my hate drifting from my pores and he returned the foul emotion in full force.

Too bad. The murderous feeling welling within me escalated. I defiantly met his mocking stare until he grinned and leaned away from me to spit with full vigor. Bastard.

Another unhealthy greenish gob hit the floor before he muttered in mocking tones. "Mmm, yeah, it was a while ago... 'e came in 'ere and just sat. Didn't order anythin', didn't say anythin'. 'e went and sat in that there corner and stared at everyone. Seemed to be sizin' everyone up, 'e did. Just stared and stared. 'e gave a few of the workin' girls the jitters... there was somethin' not right about 'im, even though he looked to be a ladies man wid 'is 'andsome face and pretty long 'air. But too pale, 'e was, too odd. 'e looked weird, and I don't like strangers in me bar, so I finally told 'im to piss off and stop botherin' me payin' customers.

"Then 'e stared at me like I was so much dirt and told me 'e was doin' no harm... I remember 'im because he owned a real la-di-da voice: 'is voice didn't match 'is clothin'. 'e dressed like a beggar but sounded like some toff... like ye do, mate, only at least 'is British accent wasn't faked," he added softly, his cold eyes nailing me with pure contempt. "I told 'im to get the 'ell out and when 'e ignored me I grabbed 'is arm. 'e shook me off like I were a wee brat. Liked to send me into the wall, 'e did. Then 'e just stared at me real cold like, got up, and walked out of here right regal as ye please. I thought about chasin' 'im and setting 'im straight but like I said, there was somethin' wrong with 'im."

My heart tripped in excitement. "My God... how long ago?" My urgency flew out of control. I didn't care what the sullen barkeep though of me; this man had seen my dear Orlando. "How long?"

My informant shrugged. As he thought his fat, filthy finger toyed with a knothole. "Maybe a month er two... twas late at night, that I do remember. Late, and we was real busy. That's why I didn't like 'im sittin' there scarin' customers off wid 'is queer manner. I never saw 'is pale, pinched face again, and I'm fookin' damned glad of it," he sneered before spitting onto the filthy floor with complete disgust.

My anger flared into my brain. Damn, this man spat at my precious Orlando. Come now, Viggo, have control, oh sweet control. You needed this wretch's help.

My breath caught. Sighing I desperately shook my head before attempting words. "Perhaps two months. if you see him again... oh, you won't. He won't return here. I thank you."

I didn't have to pretend re-adopting my despairing mask. The expression slammed over my aristocratic features with alarming force. Turning blindly I pushed my way out, my soul somehow ignoring the low taunts following me. As I heaved in a great gasp I leaned against the outer crumbling wall and shut my eyes in fury, yes, raw fury against that filthy scum, against Orlando, and against myself for my own self-torture.

"''Ere, mate!" A woman's shrill voice pierced my fierce agony. I recognized her from the bar; she obviously looked for afternoon trade. Her pale, taut fingers grabbed my ragged suit coat and tugged. "Mate, I 'eard some of yer story in there... let me see ta piccie," she urged.

I intently stared at her filthy yet pretty face. The woman looked to be in earnest so I produced my lone talisman. The whore instantly greeted Orlando's flattened photographed features with a violent hiss. "That's ta one, that filthy fookin' bastard!"

My mind reeled at her angry words. Now what? "What! What did he do?"

As she wrinkled her tiny nose in revulsion she managed to almost drape herself over my shoulder. "I... well, luv, I only 'eard the tale, but I saw 'im in there: 'e went off with Cate, who stopped 'im just as 'e left... silly Cate told me she thought 'e were ever so 'andsome but I thought 'e seemed too strange, looker or not. Not all there... I told Cate not to go wid 'im but she did. I don't see 'er for the next two nights and when I do Cate's all sick like... pale and droopy." The woman angrily poked her finger into my innocent chest. "Cate claims 'e did it to 'er... she felt fine but just before they reached 'er room 'e started tryin' to snog 'er and 'e bit 'er... ye could still see the right nasty marks on 'er poor neck. All black and blue they was, wid little red 'oles... I thought if 'e bit 'er, then 'e probably gave 'er whatever 'e 'ad, the fookin' bastard," she hissed, she spitting for added emphasis.

At this bar spitting seemed the proper dramatic action for showing real contempt. I ignored the doxy's insulting action; I had enough trouble understanding her appalling accent plus her less than fresh scent nearly made me gag. My anxious stare held her curious gaze. "But that was months ago? A few months?"

The whore offered me a vigorous denial. The act dislodged her frayed bonnet. As she jammed the ancient concoction back on her tangled blonde hair she frowned in memory. "Faugh, luv, nawww, only like a month ago if that... I've not seen 'im since but if I did I certainly wouldn't go near 'im, the bloody loony. Imagine bitin' a poor workin' girl like that... 'e didn't even pay 'er, the filthy swine! Makes 'er right sick and then runs off on 'er. The nerve of 'im!" she snapped with great indignation.

Controlling my fury I stared at the whore's thin face then I confusedly shook my head. What did this madness mean? "Something is wrong with Orlando then... I knew it," I whispered desperately. "I knew it!"

I swiftly pushed my remaining coins into the woman's small right hand then I slid my private detective's card into her left fingers. "Here... if you see him, send word to this man."

At seeing the financial bounty my confidant's light blue eyes widened but when she saw the office's name they instantly grew cautious. How amazing, the filthy doxy could actually read. "Ohh, right, like I'll go prancin' into this office and tell 'em. Ooowweee." Another glutinous spat followed. Charming.

"Please! Information is important to me; look, if you're frightened of him don't talk to my cousin Orlando. But let me know, please, if you or any of your, ahh, friends see him. There's a generous reward for any solid news." My sad desperation burned all too real and I didn't care if this voracious woman saw it or not.

"Aw right... say, mate, in your own manly way ye're as 'andsome as 'e was but ye seem normal. Are ye busy now? I 'ave plenty 'o time." As she released a suggestive purr the doxy pushed her thin body against me in a lewd manner. Her expert fingers slid down my stomach and fondled my cringing cock.

Dear God no. I reeled from her foul whisky breath, attempting to keep calm and not shove her away. Once my Orlando had taken me to sublime heaven so I could hardly accept this woman's filthy hell. "I have no time now... please, I must keep looking for my cousin. But I thank you. You have been so very helpful and kind."

A lewd wink added the subtle promise of decayed sex to her words. "Well, if ye change yer mind, my 'andsome dollie, I'll be 'ere. Ask fer Miranda O. The 'O' stands fer open fer business." Her fingers casually assessed my cock. "Mmm, luv, ye are a right nice 'andful. I'd 'ave fun wid ye. Are ye sure? On the 'ouse. I dawn't get the chance to do such 'andsome gentleman."

After she giggled Miranda's thin lips first kissed my tense cheek then she licked my lower lip. As our flesh made contact I panicked and frantically wondered what common diseases Miss Miranda carried in her blood. Calm, Viggo, remain calm. My body rested against the wall then I held my hands up in supplication. "No, really, I appreciate the offer but. farewell, Miranda." Roll to the side, yes, once free I hastened away from her grasp, wildly pushing past the living dead who crowded around me. God, I prayed she didn't come after me with a knife.

As I pushed along my mind finally forgot Miranda and pulsed with one blazing thought: Orlando had been seen here a month ago! Orlando lurked close, yes, he seemed closer than ever before. I felt him. My logical nature scoffed my feeling off as my fevered imagination, yet something inside my soul knew this dark, decaying street offered me ultimate answers.

Only what did the two stories mean? What could be wrong with my Orlando? The physical strength bothered me. Orlando was a slender creature, he blessed with gifted artist's hands. Those lovely hands were hardly capable of pushing a burly barkeep against the wall. Wait, and pale; Orlando wasn't pale, no, his glorious flesh shone with a dark golden glint. The savage bites on the neck defied my reason; my impulsive Orlando ran wild, yes, he gave into his passions, but he'd never deliberately harm anyone. Especially not a woman. That aspect made no sense at all. Why would Orlando seek out a female whore? His sexual tastes ran quite the opposite. I could vouch for that since I was the only person Orlando usually harmed through his heroic thoughtlessness.

Ahh, neither strange tale made sense. My broken thoughts crowded my brain so fiercely that another dizzying migraine impended. Above my mind's din one thought screamed as of a month ago my precious Orlando walked these very streets. The knowledge was more than all the years of search ever gained me. Yet part of me thought this latest hope could be false. How could Orlando hurt a woman? How? Why?

No. Stop. I chose to ignore my own rioting thoughts. I had to lest I went mad.

Ian picked me up before the imposing Tower, he escorting me back into to town where I grimly searched a few more reputable pubs along the strip. More fruitless results. As darkness fell I raced back to the carriage, frustrated and bitter beyond anything I thought possible. "So close... damn your selfish soul," I half snarled, allowing myself to be drawn back into London's more welcoming environs. God, if and when I found my lover I'd be hard put not to strangle him.

Wrong, how very wrong.

Yet I couldn't help my rage. Not after all these years of torment.

I deserved to be angry.

After another bland British meal and too much brandy I set about trying to imagine my lover again. Ahh, yes, tonight something called to me. My fingers unzipped my trousers and shoved the annoying material from my rolling hips. My thick cock stirred against the free air. No, those weren't my fingers stroking my cock. Those fingers belonged to my dream, my long lost demon love. Yes, only Orlando stroked my cock so skillfully. Only his moist lips knew where to nip, suck and nuzzle until I vocalized in rapture.

Why wouldn't he return to me?

Stop asking and accept the fantasy. Yes, Orlando's long fingers stroked your heavy balls. His talented lips kissed your eager cock. As usual the sweet demon made you gasp in pure delight.

Orlando always made me come. He always completed me.

My flexing fingers rapidly coaxed my cock into completion then I stared at nothing but cherished memories.

My torment had reached its limit.

Now what would I do?

VIGGO

"Mr. Mortensen? I need to talk to you." An annoying knock at my door pulled me from a deep, drunken slumber. Hacking out a disoriented cough I rose from the couch, sickened to see I had drunk myself to sleep right in my suite's grand sitting room. And, oh hell, why was my naked cock coated with. ahh, yes, how fine, before I passed out last night I pleasured myself with pretty fantasies. Disgusting. Damn it, I was falling apart.

As my brain tried remembering my place in society I raked horribly shaky fingers through my tangled, dark blond hair. When I finally spoke I felt dismay at how thin my normally husky voice sounded. "Yes, hold on a minute!" Too bad, my urgent morning piss came first. After I finished my watering I tucked my now limp cock back into its proper place inside my trousers and tried not looking as hungover as I felt. Useless effort. My eyes narrowed in sick loathing. Good morning, self-hatred. Glad to see you still sat on my right shoulder.

Once I yanked open the suite's carved door my vicious glare attacked the tall, willowy dark-haired man until sudden recognition sank in. Weaving. Oh my God, there stood Hugo Weaving, my well-paid and highly astute detective who kept watch in case information drifted my way.

I gasped in awe; we'd only met a handful of times and he'd never come here before. "It's you... Detective Weaving! You heard something!"

Mr. Weaving vigorously nodded at me. I stood back and allowed him entrance. My bloodshot eyes anxiously studied Weaving's thin face. Hmm, his own narrowed eyes regarded me with a hint of cold contempt then he remembered his place in my world and adopted a blank stare. I felt no annoyance since I knew I looked every inch the decadent moneyed toff, staggering about displaying a wretched hangover. I felt completely foul. If Weaving knew what else I had done last night he might think even less of me. Then again these pale, aesthetic types could be deceiving. Hell, for all I knew Weaving might pirouette naked around his flat while singing "La BohŠme." The thought made my lips twitch.

As if sensing my change in mood Weaving darted me another tight stare. I composed my emotions and politely gestured toward the unslept-upon arm chair.

Once seated my esteemed contact's face adopted a grim expression. Ha, Weaving held a true knack for looking dour and dismal. I swore he practiced his dramatic look. No wonder I associated him with opera. After I slouched down on the couch I awaited his opening aria. "Mr. Mortensen, you told me to come right over if anyone came by so here I am. Sorry if I disturbed your rest." His light eyes flicked across my face again. "This morning a filthy urchin carrying a huge bucket of attitude marched into my office and claimed he saw the man you sought. The nervy brat, who calls himself Billy B., works in a flophouse and a woman there," as he paused to peer at his notes, "Yes, a Miranda O., talked about the handsome American looking for his dangerous, dark-haired cousin. As she spoke the wench drunkenly waved around my business card and claimed you offered her a reward. Sprightly Billy is intrepid; when Miranda passed out early this morning he snuck into her crib and nicked the card. Since Billy can't read the stubborn lad asked around until he found someone who would tell him where my office was located. Naturally I felt suspicious so I asked the brat special questions. Billy's definitely seen your cousin: he described Mr. Bloom without being shown the photo. When I showed Billy the photo he swore on his mother's grave, ha, if he knows who she is, that was the man he saw. Billy claimed he saw Mr. Bloom from time to time only at night along a... " Mr. Weaving halted again and peered at his notebook. "Grovers Alley. A bad piece of street, if you can call the shambles a street. More like a hole. I checked the area out before I came over, and it's ugly ruins. Boarded up houses, yet that's what this lad claimed. The fetid creature stressed he'd never seen the odd man in the day. It's almost a hobby with this Billy, trying to spot the pale man who haunts the ruins. I gave the ornery imp part of the reward you left because he started cursing and swearing he wouldn't leave until I did; he actually threatened to claim I attacked him. Outrageous creature. But still, sir, Billy saw this man only last week."

As my fierce headache abruptly worsened my agonized heart played along and constricted in excitement. Damn, my desperate search might eventually cause me physical collapse. "My God, oh my God, only last week? Weaving, how do I find this road?"

"I can escort you, sir, I... "

I half shouted my protest. "No! I must go alone... just tell me how to get there!"

Weaving looked astonished at my outrageous over reaction. As he stared at me his thin, stern lips twitched in restrained annoyance. "Really now, Mr. Mortensen, it's too dangerous! You don't know how bad London can be."

Damn this sanctimonious man! "Bah, Weaving, yes I do! I have been searching London's stinking bowels for three months. Do you think I care about the danger anymore? I must go there alone. I know I must or else my entire search will be futile. Now please tell me or I will find someone who can!"

Poor Weaving offered me a long, puzzled stare before he adeptly sketched the map in his book. When he handed the concise drawing to me I groaned in aching dismay. Once again I'd enjoy Shoreditch's delightful charms; bah, the grim news didn't surprise me at all. "Here, Mr. Mortensen, here it is; I hope the information helps you. But for pity's sake please be careful. I know you have been searching the slums but that doesn't make the potential for doom any less faint. Trust me, this area is a true nadir."

I stared at the paper lifeline then my weary eyes traveled to Weaving's steady gray stare. I owed this clever man so much. "Thank you: I... please, Detective Weaving, you must excuse my rude outburst. I have been looking for so long, for years, and the stress has taken a serious toll on my nerves. I know Orlando will... , oh, I know I must be alone for my search."

Weaving inclined his head and woefully shrugged. "As you wish, Mr. Mortensen. I can only pray for your safety and success." To my surprise he gripped my arm and offered me a thin smile.

I blinked and awkwardly patted his pale hand. "I thank you, Detective. Indeed I thank you for all your first-rate work." Ah, nice to know someone worried about me. Yes, Hugo and Ian could form the "Worry About the Stupid, Rich American" society.

Bah.

"Heavens Above, Mr. Mortensen, this place is."

My feet met the filthy cobbles. Once I steadied myself I held out my hand to Ian in supreme pleading. Odd how I respected this old gent; he had acted so good to me. "Ian, please give me five minutes. I must see this alley for myself."

Poor Ian fingered his seldom-used whip and looked around in sick anxiety. I didn't blame him for thinking someone might attack his spooked carriage horse and slice the noble beast into horse steaks. Oh yes, little did Ian know how rich he would be after dealing with me.

No. God no. Mute dread filled me. My pained eyes viewed the entrance to Grover's Alley. My astute Weaving hadn't done the horror justice; the gross alley looked more like a beast's dank mouth than like a road, it twisting down into broken cobbles, revealing a grim wall at the throat's vile end. The houses lining the narrow alley had once been serviceable homes: now they only serviced the slinking rats. I had no idea what caused this area to rot with such monumental verve. I only knew at this very second I hated the alley with all my strong will.

Hesitant steps took me into the damp, boiling with decay air. Stunned fascination filled my mind. My eyes studied the inky shadows playing along the shattered facades. This area claimed no kinship with our stately New York City home. It certainly couldn't claim any kinship with regal young Orlando!

A soft curse finally escaped my tightened throat. "Damn no, Orlando, not here. Not here!" After skirting rotting refuse I tried peering into a twisted window frame. The putrid atmosphere told me no one had occupied the house for years. Once I crept down the short length I realized every house stood windowless. The spectacle reminded me of more mouths, this time of vile, long dead infants faintly crying into the blasted wilderness. My tormented mind hissed surely hell could look no worse than this abysmal pit. Heaping trash sprouted negative colors in a demented garden of the damned. Debris pushed against the boarded doorways and whispered in the faint breeze. I swore something spoke to me, yes, something I should never acknowledge.. My long-dead artistic skills could capture this putrid scene until complete madness set in. My talented Orlando could paint the view... if he truly haunted this noxious display.

At the street's wretched bottom I paused and stared back up its blasted tableau. My low voice startled me. "That Billy must be wrong... he must be wrong. My fair Orlando would not live here. No!"

Choking back a frustrated sob I whirled back along the damaged cobbles. My feet frantically sought the narrow opening. "He's wrong! He's wrong! Damn the evil bastard," I cursed, fleeing to my carriage and refuge. The minute I flung myself into the carriage's safety wise Ian raced us away.

I almost vomited on the seat.

God Above, I swore I felt something. I.

Madness.

---

ORLANDO

I looked up from my ancient Greek text and froze in complete attunement. Impossible. Emotions long left for dead energized and sprung forward. My eyes widened in amazement. My shaking hands almost ripped the thick, leather-bound book right down the spine.

No!

But ahh yes, I felt him. By the Seven's Force, I felt... Viggo. Dear loyal Viggo. My aching voice rose in a hoarse shout, the sound echoing through the dusty corridors of my murky, underground burrow. "No! It... no! Sean! Sean! Come now!" I felt my human student lurking nearby.

After a tense minute an agitated Sean blundered into my chamber, a frightened look capturing his handsome face. "Dark one! What is it? I wanted to tell you someone walked up and down the street like they searched for something! I had just returned from the market when I saw a carriage pull up at the alley's end. As I watched this man stared at each house before hastening back up the street talking to himself. He looked most upset."

My dismal heart knew who paced those foul cobbles. My heart, my soul, ahhh, my tormented love knew. "Did you truly see his face? His wonderfully handsome face? Did you see his burnished hair? Did you note he was similar in height to me yet... human?"

"Yes, his hair was a dark golden blonde, my dark one, and he was your height... he looked so upset... oh Hades, you felt him," gasped Sean.

"Yes, I felt him. I know who walked out there. Oh, I know." My entire body screamed in painful sorrow. As I groaned in misery I clenched my eyes shut. Viggo. Yes, mmm, I could almost taste his delicious flesh. My cock tightened in agony. Just feeling Viggo's clean, proud humanity made me feel so. dirty.

As I quivered in remorse Sean's long fingers comfortingly caressed my thin shoulder. Sometimes I knew Sean touched me to soothe himself. I didn't mind. I stared into the dank air and shuddered again. "Oh yes, after all these years I can still feel my Viggo. I've caused him great pain... such terrible pain! Yet he looks for me still. My poor Viggo, my dear cousin, after all this time you've found me."

Silence collected in my make-shift study. My stunned eyes stared at nothing. I remained in my abject position and forced dark sorrow against my loyal Sean until he could no longer bear my anguish. I felt his fingers flutter against my cheek. "Master Orlando... please, my dark one, should I find your Viggo for you? Should I find out where... "

How generous of poor Sean. Although I always broke his fawning heart my Sean still offered to help me. What had I done to the man? "No. No. I must think. I must think on what to do. Ahh, how much pain do I wish to cause him?" I mumbled. "After all the pain I've already caused Viggo, how much more can he bear from me? How much?"

Damn, how I longer to run out into the sun and find my lover.

Foolish.

---

VIGGO

That evening a dark magnet called hope drew me back to Shoreditch's unclean depths. As I walked along the streets through the disturbingly yellowish fog I avoided the pubs, knowing these blasted holes would no longer be of any use to me. The effort to appear casual nearly shattered my ravaged nerves. I carefully stepped along the slick cobbles, joining the whores, the pickpockets and the upper class decadents looking for mindless sorrow. If they truly wanted sorrow I should let them share in mine. Ha, I possessed sorrow to spare.

As my wandering steps carried me forward my illogical mind kept seeing my beautiful Orlando in every solid shadow. Oh yes, I knew he hovered close to me. I knew if Orlando indeed lived in that horrible place he now knew I looked for him. I also knew it was useless to return there: I of all people would never be allowed to see Orlando, unless he wanted me to see him.

Orlando... my peculiar Orlando knew things no one else did. He knew I searched for him this night. He knew.

Would my lover let me know he knew?

---

ORLANDO

"Demons Below! My poor Viggo, ah, why are you here?" I hungrily stared at my handsome cousin from my secretive position huddled against a dark alley wall. My pained eyes examined every pore in his exhausted, sorrowful face. Damn, I caused his proud face to look so tired and worn. Seeing my lover so defeated tormented my fond memories of him yet the sight fed my unclean memories. I whispered his name to myself. "Viggo, mmm, my beautiful Viggo."

As I leaned against the damp bricks for my mind feverishly argued the merits of simply leaving this cloying city and escaping further notice. Yet another part of my mind, the clinging human part, wanted my poor Viggo to know I still lived. I wanted to end his desperate search. If moral, society-concerned Viggo hated me, so be it; after avoiding him so basely during all these years I expected my lover's hatred. No, you fool, think clearly; if Viggo hated me he wouldn't search for me. He loved me, which was far worse for him. And for me.

"Enough," I breathed. Straightening up I walked forward, all the while fixing my gaze against Viggo's retreating back. Then I made my decision. The friendly shadows disguised my pre-natural speed, yes, the narrow alleys and moldering trash heaps provided my cover. I finally halted and peered out, seeing Viggo walking towards my alleyway. A deep breath expanded my tense lungs. Yes, enough escape; the argument within my conflicted soul must end. As I waited and pondered a few last seconds a hoarse sob escaped my lips. Enough. Stop torturing the man.

Slithering forward I slowly positioned myself at the alley's edge, knowing the wan flickering gaslight would catch my high cheek-boned face and create a beacon in the greasy yellowish fog. Viggo would see my intense paleness. Yes, I would make my cousin come to me. Of course I could do it; I'd done it before.

Come to me, my lover. I have tortured you for long enough. Yet in reality the true torture was about to begin.

For both of us.

VIGGO

This mocking night made me feel grim, stupid and needy. All I wanted to do was return to my room and drink myself senseless. My mind pounded one ugly thought into me; Orlando must hate me. He must despise me for what I had.wait. Who hovered at the next alley's entrance? Dear God. Could it be.as I froze in shock my tired eyes widened in amazement. So I hadn't gone insane! "Orlando!"

My legs instinctively reacted. As I raced into the dank alley my feet decided such haste didn't suit them. My gallop nearly tumbled me into a heaped refuse pile; I skidded, staggered then my hands slammed the rough stone wall and miraculously broke my fall. Ouch. Fool. Slow down, you idiot. Must rest. Harsh breaths ripped from my aching chest. Hell, all my drinking surely compromised, yes, admit it, Viggo, my middle-aged abilities. If my body was a temple then I had openly defiled my living flesh. Breathe. Focus. Stop running. Bah, I didn't fancy a broken arm or worse.

During my deep breathing exercise my frantic gaze scanned the foggy darkness. Wait, had I finally lost my mind? But I felt Orlando. I knew I had seen his unmistakable face! Where had my lover gone? Nothing moved in the fetid alley, not a rat, a cockroach. nothing. An agonized scream almost tore free; wait, was that, yes, suddenly a darker shadow abruptly appeared at the alley's lower end. The shadow slowly moved toward me.

"Orlando?" I called his name yet remained where I stood. The street lamp's feeble glow ended just a foot away from my garbage-slick leather shoes. Although I desperately wanted knowledge I refused to step into the inky shadows.

His melodious voice suddenly sounded at my side. His voice provided a subtle caress against my fog-damp cheek. "Viggo."

I whirled and stared into Orlando's beloved face. This was reality. My lover finally stood before me! My overjoyed gaze hungrily devoured his delicate features framed by his wavy, mahogany hair. Trust my rebellious Orlando to affect such artistic hair in this age of masculine control. My denied hands ached to grasp those long, silky lengths. My lips wanted to taste every last inch. God, to see those unique, glowing red-brown eyes, that adorable, slightly crooked nose, the bend courtesy of a horseback riding accident. yes, ahh, I remembered watching my reckless cousin fall from his alarmed horse. My strong arms had cradled poor battered Orlando back to our seaside summer home and salvation. During that summer Orlando had been 16, I 28. I think he loved me even then. In those days the proper, sensible part of me dared not admit how I felt about my beautiful yet daring cousin. Wrong. Very, very wrong.

Finally those oft-kissed full lips hovered before me and not merely in my anguished memory or in a tattered photo. My gaze adored Orlando's exotic beauty over and over again. I hadn't gone mad. His physical perfection still existed for me. "Orlando, I'm not insane, it is you... my Orlando!" My hands automatically grasped his bony shoulders, ahh, my large fingers captured their slender grace so well. As I massaged my lover's shoulders his long hair swept over my knuckles. "You sweet demon, you knew I searched for you, you knew!"

A torn sigh escaped Orlando's full, tense lips. Somehow his ethereal gaze acted like a frightened humming bird, yes, I swore my lover stared at me yet he never directly met my own gaze. His gaze darted around my form with alarming swiftness. The effect felt terribly disconcerting. "Viggo, when I accessed our trust fund I knew if you still cared you'd look for me. I knew nothing definite until yesterday, until I felt you explore that horrid alley I mockingly call home. My brave, loving Viggo, tell me, why couldn't you have left me alone? Why did you bother looking for me?"

Although joy raced through me my face still flinched with wild anger. My punishing fingers gripped Orlando's shoulders with greater force. "What? You dare ask me that wicked question? After how you left me alone? Orlando, I swear you don't understand me at all."

To my surprise instead of growing angry in turn Orlando merely smiled and nodded with his elegant sadness. "I understand you better than you think, dear cousin, which is why I am surprised you hunted for me." Sensing my confusion Orlando held up his long fingers and shook his head. "Forgive me, Viggo, I didn't mean to sound so callous. No. But.wait, I don't want to argue with you in this filth: the evil setting ill suits you. You aren't safe in this morass and I want you to leave. Where are you staying, my love?" Orlando's soft words chilled me; his natural, instinctive use of "my love" flayed my rapidly thudding heart. We studied each other until Orlando expectantly cocked his head, he waiting for me to answer his simply query. I finally stammered out a coherent answer. "At the Claridge, but Orlando, I- I- Orlando, please... "

My passionate words halted. My desperate hand slid from Orlando's shoulder, then my flesh swiftly caressed his icy cold cheek. To my shock Orlando hissed like a coiled viper. Unnatural speed jerked his body away from me; once again I thought of a darting humming bird. How did he do.my right hand feebly hovered in the air where Orlando's beloved face once took shape. My left hand still thought it clutched Orlando's boyish shoulder until my surprised fingers curled on nothing. Oh my God.

As my wide eyes blinked in astonishment my fingers fell helplessly against my thighs. Orlando's swift movement, his cold, terribly pale skin, his.what the hell was going on here? My logical mind latched onto one thought. "Orlando, my Orlando, you are ill. That whore claimed you made this other whore sick; oh, lover, you're so cold and pale. Your skin used to look like burnished honey. Please, what is wrong with you?"

A stony look etched onto Orlando's sculpted features. "So that's how you found me. A whore?"

"Not exactly. A young cretin who works in a flophouse watches your appalling alley as sport. He looked for you to appear and when he heard of my search he went to my detective and supplied me with the information."

Now Orlando's wide dark stare swept past me then he shook his head. "Extraordinary. How ironic. Discovered by a clever street urchin. Ahh, he'd best avoid me now. I don't take kindly to young spies."

"I gave the lad a reward for supplying me information. Now that I see your precious face I will thank him in my prayers and try giving him even more money." My strong voice dropped into a pleading caress. "Please, Orlando, please don't tell me to leave you now! I need to know so much about you. Lover, it's been four years since I've seen you, felt you, adored you-don't turn me away. Please!"

To my dismay my pleading words received another firm negative head shake. "Not now, my Viggo, no. No. I will tell you my story tomorrow night at 7:00. Please tell me what room are you in."

Orlando's soft, defiant words inflamed my controlled anger. Ha, after all these years Orlando's inherent stubbornness still made me furious in mere seconds. "Orlando, what is this madness? I want to talk to you now! I won't let you go again, I won't! I love you too much to simply walk away from you! Don't you understand my need?" My hands pulled my beloved close in a tight, desperate grip. I pressed my lips against his cold, smooth flesh and.

Once again Orlando easily yanked free, his slender body effortlessly repelling my strong arms. He moved so swiftly that I staggered back and felt the rough wall meet my back. My startled gasp mocked me. My God, I'd never felt such power from Orlando before. Never. A dense silence flowed between us, souring the already thick foul air. Facial muscles hardened and filled with suspicion borne from new despair. "Orlando, you plan to run from me. You cruel devil, you plan to run from me again!" I hissed brokenly. My trembling fingers reached for Orlando again but Orlando quickly stepped back and held up a tense, warning hand. The commanding glare flaring in his wide eyes halted my pitiful pleading.

My lover's glare bore into mine without pity. "I will not run any more, Viggo; I promise you I won't run. I swear on, ha, not my soul but how about yours? I will be there at 7:00 tomorrow night, so either accept my words or you will never see me again!" Orlando's harsh words belied the anguish suddenly flooding his tortured eyes. "I still love you, Viggo, more than you imagine. Yes, my love for you forced me to hide from you all these years. I somehow doubt you'll still love me after... "

Orlando's face looked oddly still then his large eyes again stared at nothing for seconds. Did he experience a bizarre fit? Before I questioned him Orlando's sad gaze speared me. This time our gazes meshed in infinite sorrow. Something tragic in my lover's direct stare made me shudder then his voice captured misery. "Tomorrow. I will be there, my love. Again I ask, what room?"

"408," I whispered. My mind howled in fresh agony. Damn, no, I must hold Orlando, I must stop him, I must...

"Until then, sweet Viggo. Now leave this area immediately. Don't return to this foul hellhole. You don't belong here at all. Your goodness makes you a target." Thin fingertips coldly burned across my right cheek. Lips colder than despair pressed against mine and massaged, ahh, somehow their softness battled the sick chill and magically filled my adoring mouth with warm, sun-lit memories. I tried embracing Orlando one last time, tried capturing his slender grace against my body. I must halt him from leaving me again!

Instead my Orlando vanished into the fog-bruised shadows.

I stared, then blinked rapidly, unable to see a thing in the intense soupy gloom.

"Orlando! You sly.Orlando!" I snarled in disbelief then my feet quickly paced towards the alley's end. Damn the thick darkness! My fingers felt the wall then once again I caught myself from falling forward. To my surprise a narrow opening, barely more than a doorway, twisted to the right. A rat scuttled over my feet, insolently peered at my helplessness, its eyes catching the streetlight's far-off glint, then it raced off. God.

Bah, I knew pursuit would be useless. My fingers touched my shocked face; how odd, no brittle ice crusted my cold cheek. Yet now my lips felt numb. Orlando stole the sweet warmth with him.

After long seconds I turned away from the beckoning passageway and let my feet slowly guide me toward the main street. As I plodded along a vast emptiness erupted within my confused soul. Oh God, I let my Orlando escape. My lover made me release him; I don't know how Orlando did it but somehow he overpowered my mind. Years ago in New York City my beauty had mentally overpowered me only this time Orlando's mental control felt astonishingly stronger.

I couldn't comprehend our last few minutes. My desperate search finally brought me to my cousin but I held a sick feeling our union wouldn't bring the expected joy. A desperate groan welled from my soul then I returned to the alley's mouth and stared back into the fetid darkness.

The thought ground against me; I had let Orlando escape. After four years searching for him I let my fey lover escape me without any true explanations. I let him leave me with a mere kiss and a promise. Of course Orlando used those queer powers he cultivated and he proved the other tales true: Orlando possessed exceptional strength, and was obviously quite ill. Did I just feel the strength of a madman?

"You'd better be there, you beautiful monster," I breathed brokenly before returning to my carriage. Another sick headache hovered nearby. Yes, the brandy would flow tonight. Oh yes.

---

ORLANDO

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, my dark one?" As Sean spoke his fingers skillfully adjusted my worn cravat. Once he finished the mundane task his strong fingers trembled in stress before he clutched them together. Grave concern defeated his wide blue eyes.

The right thing? Ha, that ceased to be an option for me years ago. I slowly shook my head. "No, I'm not. But damn, what a ruin this suit is, yes, what a ruin I've become," I sighed. "Sean, I don't know what to think about this night: after all these years either I will be reunited with Viggo or I shall be hated by him. For all I know Viggo might think me insane. Oh, wouldn't that be a fine event? I understand my dear cousin's moral personality; it's why I've stayed away from him. For Viggo to look at me with hatred again would prove too much for me, although in the very act of looking for me there's the hope that... ahh, I don't know. My poor Viggo still cares for me, yes, even after all I've done to him he still loves me. I saw that in his eyes last night. I felt it in his fingers."

My hurried words faded into the cellar's dank air. I always talked too much when nervous. The more taciturn Viggo often teased me about my unshakable habit. Ha, I doubted that after the next few hours my poor lover would find anything to joke about with me. Sean's fingers soothingly stroked my thick hair. "Be careful, my beautiful dark master, please be careful. Like you said, it has been years."

I gazed at this strange older noble who made himself my slave in the vain hope I'd love him alone. Now Sean knew, yes, he fully accepted I did not love him, yet his unhealthy passion still burned for me. So be it. Sean kept me safe and guarded my secrets while I taught him my arcane magic. Was it a fair trade? We both didn't care about fair.

"I am not worried about that at all, dear Sean, not at all. Viggo will not physically harm me," I sighed before caressing his smooth cheek. My smile felt twisted. "Beside, remember I am now far stronger than he. So stop worrying about me. Now I must go."

The secret passage led me up to the decrepit house's ruined first floor. As usual I haunted deserted back streets, moving as quickly as possible without attracting undue attention. In minutes I strode into the City district's comfortable wealth, tempering my unnatural stride. Claridge's stately bulk finally loomed before me, the facade flickering with the gas light's cheerful sputters. Inhaling one short breath I crossed the tidy pavement towards a bright, elegant world I unwillingly abandoned years ago.

The uniformed door attendants eyed my tattered, unfashionable suit with twin subtle sniffs but they reluctantly let me pass. As I fixed a mocking smile on my lips I swept into dignified Claridge's grand foyer, anticipating the warm reaction I'd receive within reception.

Within seconds an officious clerk glared my way and swiftly moved to halt my progress. His prissy voice dripped superior scorn. I felt his distrust: heavens, we couldn't let this tattered, wild-looking, long-haired freak into the refined hotel, could we? "Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"

"No thank you. I am here to see my cousin Viggo Mortensen in room 408," I answered, fixing the man with my cold stare. I pushed a bit. Damn, his haughty resistance crumbled too easily for any real sport.

The humbled clerk blinked rapidly before he vaguely gestured to the grand stairs. "Oh, ah, well yes, why of course, sir, please go right on up."

"I shall do exactly that," I mocked, mounting the wide stair with a touch of my graceful demonic speed. Hmm, I should act cautious since showing off in public places could only lead to more trouble. I couldn't help it; tonight I felt edgy and nervous. Nerves brought out my natural and sometimes destructive impulsiveness.

Once up the stairs I found the fateful door. I sucked in another deep breath before knocking. The door opened before I lowered my hand.

Viggo stared out at me, his wide light eyes filled with anxious relief. I hated seeing him look so pathetic. "My lover, you came!"

"I promised you," I reminded, my gaze capturing my dear Viggo's eyes. His complete anguish chilled me, making me feel defensive and bitter. "Come, dear one, is that how little you think of me now?"

"Orlando, please, what do you expect? I hear nothing from you in four years! Nothing except your little trust fund clue," he hissed in response. Yes, even while feeling relief my elemental Viggo easily fell into his simmering anger.

My cool eyes studied my eternally angry lover. "So, my dear cousin, do we argue my questionable merits in the hall or may I enter?"

Viggo fiercely stepped back, his large right hand gesturing into the suite. I moved into the genteel room's center and turned back, letting my searching gaze glide over Viggo's handsome face. As we stood still for long minutes our stares tangled in uncertainty. Ha, of course I could have cheated but this was my Viggo.

"You always proved more adept than I at these little staring contests; there, you win again, cousin," I whispered. Shaking back my hair I turned away from my lover's glacial blue stare although I knew I could easily make Viggo look away before long.easily. If I wished my gaze could even drive him insane.

Before I could react Viggo's capable hands grabbed my slender arms. His hands quickly yanked my body against his firm flesh. This time I returned Viggo's desperate embrace. His mad embrace told me how much he still loved me, wanted me, needed me. As I pressed into his familiar contours my fingers lightly raked against his fine linen shirt. Careful, don't rip the fabric. Over the years my nails had become abnormally sharp. My lover's devouring kiss took me back years, yes, his perfect warm lips transported me to a simpler, far less damaged era. God, I how loved this beautiful, angry man. For a brief moment kissing him made us one again.

Our tongues touched and swayed. As I moaned in happiness my teeth gently bit Viggo's full lower lip in our remembered sweet passion. Instead of continuing in our erotic dance Viggo gasped then he jerked back, his light eyes wide and confused. "Orlando, come on, tell me why are you so extremely cold? I don't understand you. Dear one, is it your heart, your circulation or your.tell me, what is it?"

Damn, why couldn't we just kiss like normal lovers? Simple answer, eh? As I pulled free from Viggo's embrace my dark laughter poured from me. My body collapsed against the small settee and trembled in sick mirth. By the Seven, I knew I should have fed before arriving. Impulsive idiot. "Well, I think my heart is still working; however, my battered soul may need a bit more assistance. Come, sweet cousin, I have come to tell you want you want to know: what happened to me these last four years. That's what you want, isn't it, my thrilling life story?"

Viggo's tense body slowly sank to the settee then he leaned toward me. His troubled gaze remained fixed on my pale countenance. I felt his beloved eyes desperately searching for answers in my gaze. His fingers reached out and caressed my thigh but went no further yet I still felt his warmth invading my trouser's thin material. "Yes, that's what I want, Orlando. Your story, yes, your sorry excuse for leaving me like you did and for not telling me where you hid for all these bleak years!"

This scenario felt so wretched. "Well, my disappearance really wasn't my idea, dear one, not at all," I mocked. "I never planned for any of this to happen. However, you should be pleased with one vital thing. All your dire threats about my careless actions came true. You might say my wicked ways caught up with me, oh, did they ever," I laughed with grim amusement.

Of course Viggo didn't share in my mirth. "But Orlando, you simply left me! How wonderful, I received the occasional letter from Turkey then nothing until my web of detectives sighted you here after tracing you from Paris due to our blessed trust fund. You damned well knew I'd be looking so you gave me a clue. Then you traveled here, your birth city, and I took your arrival as a sign you wanted to reach out to me. In my soul I knew something was very wrong and now that I see you- you-" Viggo's husky voice finally broke in despair.

"My Viggo, trust me, it is the same for me. I wanted to run from you anew only you're right, I wanted to see you. I still want you, I still love you so much, yet before this night is over I fully expect to depart from your life. And my departure will be of your own command," I murmured, my fingers gently stroking Viggo's strong warm flesh as his hand held my leg. Mmm, he felt so warm and perfect.

As he gasped in anguish my Viggo grasped my cold hand. "No, Orlando, how can you say such cruel words to me? I find you after all these years and you think I will order you away from me? Now I must ask you what makes you think so basely of me? Very well, enough of my words; you were always the one who so loved your eloquent words. Now use your creative words to convince me why this sad separation felt so necessary."

My voice broke into more bitter laughter before Viggo finished his sentence. That laughter of the damned held no amusement; the acidic sound made poor Viggo flinch. "Oh I shall, dear cousin, believe me, I shall. Before tonight is over you shall know everything. I promise. But first you need to accompany me back to my world of filth and disgust. I must show you something that will determine this night's course. I realize my words will only convince you I am mad, yet my actions will prove differently. So let's endure the actions first, dear cousin. Come with me."

My fingers aiming a mocking gesture towards the door. "Come."

Viggo continued staring at me, his piercing eyes suddenly registering more confusion. "Damn, that's what's been bothering me. Why do you still look exactly the same as when you left me? Why? Lord, if anything you look younger! Your skin looks so smooth and unmarred. How could that be?" His one finger hovered toward my temple. "You had a small scar there from when Janine hit you with a badminton racket. Now it's gone. You had a scar right here from that fall from your horse." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Even your slight laugh lines are gone."

"Perhaps the mad keep their youth longer. Perhaps we even heal our traumas." As I offered Viggo a mocking smirk I rose and pointed at the door again.

Now Viggo glared at me before rising. A sudden great sorrow washed across my soul, making me feel petty. "My dear one, forgive me. I have been without your precious company for too long. Actually I've been without proper company for an extremely long time. I don't want to hurt you any more than I have so let me show you my secret. After that you can either choose to remain with me or you can order me to disappear from your life. You may even want to kill me," I whispered.

"Dear Orlando, don't say such horrible things! You must be mad. I love you. I love you!" he gasped.

I aimed one long-nailed finger toward Viggo then I stabbed my finger against the tense air. "No, cousin. You loved Orlando, the familiar Orlando you knew those years ago. Believe me, you may not feel that way after the Orlando you meet tonight."

Viggo helplessly stared at me, his pale eyes tragic in their uncertainty. My thin fingers caressed my lover's dark blonde hair away from his brow, that beloved, intelligent brow. "My lover, how I have tortured you. How cruel I am. Ahh, I never intended for all this to.oh dearest Viggo!" I choked before I lunged close and desperately kissed my lover's willing lips.

My long-damaged soul cried in pain. Please don't let me lose this man! Please don't let him reject me again!

Please don't let Viggo hate me.

VIGGO

Once Orlando freed me from our chilling kiss I stared at him with complete confusion. There Orlando stood, the same familiar mocking expression returning to his glorious face, he always teasing what he called my goodness, my traditional sense of the natural world. Yet Orlando's eyes, blast, his wide dark eyes told me he had traveled somewhere that would have meant my spiritual destruction. Right now I wasn't sure if Orlando had truly survived his damaged journey.

Suddenly I didn't want to leave this safe suite. No, instead I wanted to strip naked and luxuriate against my lover's smooth flesh. I wanted to kiss all Orlando's sensitive secrets, yes, make him completely mine again. I didn't care if Orlando's long cock had turned into an icicle; I still wanted to taste his unique flavor. Nibbling at ice cream tickled my mind. What frivolous madness!

Natural instinct told me leaving my suite would ruin our reunion. As my mind whirled in agony my fingers caressed Orlando's cheeks. " Orlando, why must we do this? Where are you taking me? Just talk to me, dear one! Imagine, for once I want hear every last poetic word." God, I hated how my voice broke in pleading desperation. "Dearest lover, above all I want you against me so let's stay here. Please. Stay here with me."

Orlando regally shook his head before gesturing insistently at the carved door, his earlier despair now replaced by a bright, hard anger. "Viggo, either you come with me or I am leaving and I will make sure you will never find me again." My lover's soft melodic voice sounded so cold, so final.

My wide eyes searched Orlando's furious face but I found no answers. "Ahh, you cruel man, you must have grown to hate me. You've never treated me this coldly. Why are you doing this to me?" I whispered.

Orlando's beautiful face twisted in sudden fury; the wild expression made him look demented. He jerked his face away from my fingers. "Please, you dare to act wounded? Ha, you easily forget how shamefully you treated me those years ago. Yes, the logical Viggo with his high moral standards and his precious place in polite society; you condemned me in that stinking prison cell and directed me to my current life. Yes, Viggo, you condemned me because your high-minded anger demanded a sacrifice for daring to love me! You simply used my pathetic morals arrest to justify rejecting me."

At hearing Orlando's harsh words a deep shame conquered my own burning anger. No, none of that was true! "No, Orlando, I... "

My weak protest died before Orlando's simmering rage. "Oh, yet before that dismal night I changed you, yes, I made you aware of yourself. I knew everyone else wondered why handsome banker Viggo still hadn't married. I knew why. I sensed your well-buried need then I unearthed your forbidden desires and for two years you were completely mine. Yet I fear in your moral soul you thought I corrupted you. Wrong! I loved you, Viggo, and I still love you more than you can ever realize. I stayed away from you out of love and I will show you my next actions out of love. You must know what I am," he snarled. Once his wild words burst free Orlando finally calmed down. My lover's dark eyes revealed a new realm of desperation. His twisted expression sent blackness into my heart.

All these years and Orlando's bitter pain still bled as fresh as my own agony. Groaning in confusion I decided to give into my beauty's whims but not before I answered his negative words. "My darling, I know I treated you harshly during your arrest after that mess at Cassandra's so-called witchcraft ceremony but I never rejected you. Never. You magnified my usual anger into rejection and reacted as you saw fit. You pitched a tantrum and you wronged me by leaving me."

Orlando stared at me then something pained stirred in his eyes, flashed at me then fled. "Please, Viggo, my arrest drove you into a typical, 'I told you so, you fool' rage. I remembered sitting there feeling like my life had ended and in response you ranted at me, turned your back on me and left me in that holding cell. Yes, you coaxed the judge to dismiss the charges against me but you never visited me again. You didn't even meet me when I was released so what was I to think? After all our arguments I knew you didn't approve of my so-called sinful witchcraft hobby but I never thought you would reject me over it."

It felt so hard not to scream in frustration. Such an uncivilized act might upset the other guests. Instead I kept my voice low. "For the last time, lover, I did not reject you. You confused my rage with rejection. Can you at least admit that to me? I loved you then and I love you now."

After another long, hard silence Orlando shook his long hair. "Well, my dear one, now you know why I thought it best to escape the States and explore my new horizons. I thought to be gone for a few months then return and try again with you. Ha, now I know by running away I ruined our lives. There, I will admit that to you." My lover stared at the floor. "Knowing that you still love me makes everything worse."

"But why? I... Orlando, very well, because I love you I'll go along with your plan." My fingers pulled on my suit coat before then I yanked on my overcoat. I suddenly realized a stupid detail. " Orlando, have you no overcoat? No wonder you are ill. I have an extra raincoat if... "

Suddenly Orlando's bleak mood evaporated into mist. He laughed at me, a tender amused sound, its precious tones capturing sweet, sunny music from our past. "My dear love, my sensible love. Here you are still worrying about warm coats and my frail health."

Orlando's slender arms suddenly clasped me close in a secure embrace. My lover's lips pressed to mine for one more reekingly cold kiss. "One last time. You may not want to... oh enough! Come now!" he snapped, pulling away from our embrace. Before I could respond Orlando exited the room.

My frustrated moan echoed in the now empty room. After I hastily locked the door I swiftly followed Orlando's black-clad form down the hall. Orlando's movements and dangerous mood changes bespoke of his great agitation. Once beyond Claridge's safety my slim lover imperiously hailed a waiting carriage.

" Orlando, wait, I have a hired carriage at my... "

His pale hand dismissed my protest. "No. Not for this. Get in," he ordered.

I followed Orlando, listening as he supplied the driver an appalling intersection close to where I had searched for him. " Orlando, why are we... "

Orlando's stern glare silenced my next words. God, who was this angry creature? As he turned his head away from my confused gaze my lover stared out the window at the grimy city. I gazed at his tense form until Orlando turned back towards me. His dark eyes met mine then my cousin's melodic voice dropped into a guttural snarl. "You ask why I can't simply tell you my story. Trust me, Viggo, if I told you we'd travel toward Bedlam so best not ask me anymore questions. For now remember, Viggo, I love you. I know you love me but after the next few minutes I will excuse how you will feel about me."

Another silence fell until Orlando murmured, "Ahh, here we are."

We descended towards hell, the carriage dropping us yards beyond the Tower. The driver picked up two drunken nobles who had already enjoyed their little excursion into the grim night. Orlando swiftly led the way into the grotesque streets until he detoured down a dark alley and glanced along its sullen length.

I reluctantly followed Orlando midway into the foul atmosphere. He stopped before a boarded-up doorway. "Wait here, my love. I'll return in a moment," he instructed.

Before Orlando escaped me I grabbed his cold wrist and quickly yanked his slender body against me. "Wait, cousin. Where are you going? Is this another wicked trick to escape me?"

"Love and trust, my dear one." After he uttered his words Orlando's frail body leaned into mine. His cold lips kissed me, ahh, his fierce kiss ended with his obscenely chill tongue tracing along my cheek. "Love and trust. I will return in a minute. One minute of trust, than we shall see how far precious love can take us."

This strange game went too far! " Orlando, please, I... "

"One minute," Orlando breathed before pulling away, he moving with his astonishingly unnatural speed. My limp body sank against the rotting door then my fingers slowly touched my confused lips. They still felt searingly cold from our last strange kiss. My protesting mind ceased trying to understand.

After claustrophobic minutes two voices floated my way; Orlando's low cultured tones mixed with a drunken women's sharp, uneducated voice. Her shrill giggles scrapped against his deliciously velvety laugh, mmm, the lusciously seductive laugh I remembered from our years together. Orlando had used that magical laugh to dazzle me time and time again. But what was... my straining eyes saw them standing mere steps from my doorway. My lovely Orlando deliberately glanced my way then the unspeakable happened so fast I doubted my vision. Orlando's hands whirled the woman against the sooty stone wall. His slim hand yanked her head back by her tangled brown hair before his gaping mouth burrowed against her haggard skin. As I stared in utter stupefaction a tiny blood trickle oozed down her throat. Ah, the flowing dark line contrasted against her grayish skin.

Dear God no. No!

My stunned eyes stared in horror and watched her scrawny body slowly arch in mute protest. After eternal seconds the whore's body went limp. Her thin arms swayed backwards then those trembling fingers gently brushed against the stone wall in a terrible finality.

No. Dear God no. Insanity. No! I stepped towards them in dumb protest. My twitching hand reached out then dropped. I froze. My waking mind fled the alley and left my numb body as a helpless witness to this inhuman crime. I merely stared. Howling pain shot along my skull, merrily dancing against my eye sockets... no! I didn't see that atrocity: no, no, no!

After a shocked eternity Orlando gently leaned the woman against the seeping stone wall. Once he released her arms her body slid down the filthy stones in an inelegant heap. She appeared oddly peaceful.

My normally forceful voice sounded so pathetically tiny. "No, Orlando no, Heavens Above, no! What have you done to her? No!"

Orlando turned and slowly walked toward me. My lover offered me a wretchedly sad smile, yes, he smiled, his beloved full lips darkened with another's blood. Orlando's ghastly smile showed me two small, sharp fangs extending down before his eyeteeth. "Love and trust, cousin. Do you now understand what I am? By the Seven, my Viggo, you are so beautiful, so very beautiful. So... alive," he hissed in anguish.

Orlando's wet mouth soon pressed against mine. Before I could react his hands pushed me against the door then his long fingers caressed into my hair. I couldn't pull free from his lunatic's grip. Orlando's blood-stained lips fiercely kissed my frantic lips. As I twisted against his body I tried jerking free but Orlando's abnormally strong fingers held my head still. I felt like his fingers could easily crack my skull. When he felt my panic Orlando backed away, his now-warm finger stroking against my twitching cheek. "Viggo, ahh, my poor sweet Viggo. This is so wrong."

My horror and revulsion forced bile into my mouth. Instead of fleeing I cringed against the spongy door until a small animal cry escaped my blood-smeared lips. Dear God, this couldn't be happening, no, this must be some insane, brandy-induced nightmare. Once I crawled from my comfortable bed at my fine hotel I would quickly arrange to return home since this nightmare boded a disaster waiting for me. This awful night couldn't be real. No. No. Yes indeed, very, very wrong, oh, so wrong. Help me.

Orlando's elegant features abruptly contorted in utter despair. "Viggo. My poor logical love, please forgive me. I had to show you, yes, I had to prove to you I wasn't mad. Now you know, so forget me, yes lover, renounce me. I understand your emotions. Believe me, I hate myself for being like this, I do, but remember, I never asked to be this way. Forgive me for being a monster. But remember even after all I have endured I still love you so very much," he whispered brokenly, his warm fingers again stroking my stricken face.

Orlando's hand dropped then he whirled away from my stunned stare.

Stop. No. I couldn't let my lover go. Not again, not even after what I just witnessed. " Orlando, no, wait," I gasped. "No, this is all a horrible dream, isn't it? We drank too much brandy back in my room and, and, oh God no. Tell me this isn't real, lover. Tell me. Use your words to make this go away."

As I spoke the whore's wet blood seeped in against my tongue. My violated tongue tasted her metallic flavor. I gagged in fresh revulsion. Orlando returned to me and gallantly dabbed a tattered handkerchief against my lips. He wiped his own stained lips clean before swiftly tossing the cloth away. The fabric gently floated earthward and rested against the silent woman's outstretched hand like a spent white rose drizzled with festive red accents. My stomach clenched. Choking again I leaned back and almost wished I'd pass out from the pain infecting my tormented brain. As I shuddered Orlando gazed at me, a terrible sad expression tainting his dark eyes.

I must know. "Is she... dead?"

Orlando swiftly shook his thick hair. "No. I rarely kill for nourishment yet sometimes I can enjoy a kill."

For a shattered second the dim alley way spun in playful malice. My fierce headache tried scattering small bright lights before my aching eyes. No. I had no time for the physical pain. "Orlando, you, you... " I sucked in a heaving breath, my shocked eyes watching the intense way Orlando stared back at me in epic remorse. My lover reminded me of a wounded animal awaiting his final death blow.

Damn, no, this tragedy wasn't a dream. I just watched my glorious cousin drink blood from another human. The very lips my Orlando used to kiss me in love sucked at fresh human blood. No dream. No logical explanation.

Orlando still stood before me, his beautiful elegant face now tinted with life in the dim light creeping in from the main street's gaslight. His warm fingers finally grasped my hand and led me out from the alley, he hastening us along the main road until he aggressively hailed a for hire carriage. When Orlando pulled away from me I grabbed his elegant hand and gestured to the cab. I made my decision without thinking. "No, Orlando. Don't run from me again. Come back with me."

The grateful look infusing Orlando's perfect face shattered my constricted heart. Once in the carriage Orlando passionately kissed my hand before he curled away from me like a whipped dog, he keeping to the dingy carriage's far side. My outraged mind helplessly replayed the last devastating scene. As I stared over at Orlando's pale profile the blood's musky tang still haunted my mouth. Unconsciously I touched my lips, expecting to still feel that repulsive stickiness fouling their surface. Orlando threw me a swift glance, his pale face spasming in pain before he turned away from me.

Dear God, I couldn't begin to talk to Orlando. I couldn't focus on the gruesome reality until we sat safely behind my room's civilized door. Once in the ornate lobby sedate clerks glanced my way then they stared in open suspicion. My shock and the astonishing pain coursing through my mind and soul probably made me appear demented. I could only guess how tortured Orlando looked, but at least his smooth flesh now held warmth and living tint.

I ascended the grand stairway to my room and tried controlling the growing tremors arcing through my body. Damn, as I tried unlocking the door they shot through my uncooperative fingers. My fingers couldn't handle even this simple task. Before my fourth attempt Orlando steadied my hand, he firmly turning the key in the lock. He drew back and let me push open the door.

Once I shut the door my hot rage swept through me, the force giving me words through my mounting pain. "All right, Orlando, you drank that woman's blood. You had fangs," I choked, every word pulling me closer to insane reality. My large hands grabbed Orlando's willowy body then they angrily slammed him against the shut door. His pale lids protected his wide, dark eyes from my anguished stare. "Fangs!"

My fingers cruelly curled back Orlando's full, warm lips. No. Impossible! Nothing dwelled there but normal teeth. Seething in frustration I shook him again. "Fangs, lover, fangs! I saw them, I did! Show me! Where are they? What the hell did I see?"

Orlando's large dark eyes slowly opened. After an unfocused second they finally met my mad gaze. "My poor lover, you will never seem them unless I intend to use them on you. My bloodlust is a chemical reaction. Consider my fangs a weapon to help me obtain my feed," he whispered. "Although when in the throes of passion I can feel them. My love bites prove a bit fiercer than most mortal's," he mocked.

Snarling in ragged disgust I abruptly thrust Orlando away from me, using all my furious might. Orlando merely staggered back before he slowly sank to the floor. He rested there, his beloved head bowed towards the fine Aubusson carpet. His rich mane veiled his pale face.

Silence pushed against me. In the dense vacuum my brandy decanter called salvation to me. I filled a glass and disposed the burning contents in three easy gulps. Another brandy chased the first. Oh yes, I needed to wash away the blood's foul taste and shove back the searing pain invading my confused head. "Look, my lover, I even ordered a bottle of fine red wine for you, one of your fancy French vintages, a Syrah. A supposedly celebration bottle. Do you want any wine or isn't that to your new taste anymore?"

My low voice broke in agony. Orlando's soft footsteps concluded in his slender hands sliding around my waist. "Lover, my precious lover, please let me tell you what happened to me. Now I need to use my words to explain to you what happened to me. We've passed the worst hurdle; you don't hate me. You can still accept me."

I whirled about to face Orlando. Upon seeing my cold glare Orlando warily stepped back. "Damn it, I can't accept you! You are something angry mothers use to scare little children with over in Turkey or where ever you traveled to destroy yourself. You are a sick Bram Stoker fantasy! You don't need blood, you can't! You must be extremely sick! Oh Orlando, we can find a doctor to help you. You can't need blood!"

To my disbelief Orlando darted me a cruel smile before he shook his head. "Come now, lover, you must release the rational world. No real doctor can help me. After what I showed you tonight you still don't believe me? I am a vampire, Viggo! An undead, but not just a simple common vampire, oh no! I am very different, so different that others similar to me won't come near me. Yes, trust me, there are others out there. Sometimes I feel them lurking near me in the night. I've wanted to ask, I want to understand what I really am and I can't even grasp that simple pleasure because they always avoid me! I wish I was sick or mad or deranged then my life would make sense. But am I none of those things and you know my words are true. You know me well enough to tell when I am lying to you.

"Viggo, I needed that woman's blood, yes, without the blood I will die. No, not die, but become a corpse-like creature huddled in foul agony. While in Paris I tried not drinking blood for weeks and I couldn't stand the incredible pain. I shriveled up like a garden snail coated with salt until my student fetched me a victim. I don't normally kill, but I must drink blood to exist. I am not sick so don't try deluding your rational mind with pretty lies so you can accept me. If you can't accept what I am then I have failed and I must leave you," he ended.

So many new words cascaded at me. I stared back at Orlando, my dazed eyes reading the horrible truth in his wide dark eyes. A new rage burned within me. Before I even realized my arm moved I punched Orlando's pale cheek. My right hand instantly ached from the forceful contact with his hard bone. It felt like I punched a stone wall.

This time Orlando hit the floor. Yet even as I stood over him trembling in rage his gaze never left mine. My tense hands felt ready to rearrange his strange soul. "Damn you then for doing this to yourself! But no, you claim you didn't do this, you didn't want this damaged existence. You and your witchcraft and your foul sex ceremonies and your insane search for— for—damn you, Orlando!"

Not to my surprise Orlando broke into a ragged laugh, a harsh jagged sound completely unlike his velvet warmth. "Ah, come now, Viggo, I am damned; you already know that special fact so stop reminding me. And cease hitting me, although I enjoy your violent reaction. It's a normal reaction from you. Striking me means you are yourself again and you accept my condition because you feel positively furious at me. You're furious at me because you love me and... "

"Oh shut up already. Bah, you still talk too much." Even as my mind spun in dread my hands automatically poured more brandy.

"I will accept a glass of wine. I still can appreciate red wine," Orlando murmured, he standing, his long fingers straightening his tattered suit coat with his familiar elegant dignity. "Now can I tell you what happened to me?"

"Ha, you must tell me or I'll hit you again. I'll smash your unearthly beauty to infinite pieces. Jesus God, Orlando, I find you after four years and you stand there telling me something I cannot comprehend. I— I—yes then, tell me your sordid tale. Weave your sick story while I drink to our happy reunion, " I mocked. As I tried not falling apart I sprawled onto the couch with the brandy snifter clutched in my hand.

Orlando opened the bottle of wine with ease, he pouring the rich red liquid. After he sipped he offered me a tentative glance. "Viggo, where do you want me to sit? Do you want me near you or... "

Well, we'd come this far so what did it matter? I silently patted the cushion next to me. Orlando sank against the cushioned fabric then he sipped his wine, composing himself. After a tense second he set down his wine and shifted so our bodies touched. Feeling my darling cuddled against me so naturally made me set down the brandy snifter and pull his sublime body close. Be Orlando a monster or not I needed this closeness from him. I loved him too much to lose him again.

Interesting, this time my lover's warm lips tasted like wine. Our fingers fluttered and stoked until Orlando sighed against my lips. "How I love you and I can't wait to be loved by you again, yes, feel your mighty cock explore me until I scream in pleasure. You still want me, lover. You don't know how happy that makes me feel. You still love me beyond reason. I still rule your heart."

" Orlando, I might need you but I confess you also frighten me beyond reason. Before we physically reunite tell me your story. As much as I want you I... bah, I still don't understand any of this! How can you be this way? Yes, lover, convince me you aren't insane."

Orlando nodded then he rested his head against my chest. I instinctively stroked his long hair. "Viggo, I must go back to when I left you. Like I said I thought I had lost your love and I couldn't stand the pain. So I left you." A soft moan sounded. " At least I now know you read my letters. There was a cruel reason why those letters ended so abruptly. I never meant to stay away from you; yes, I imagined a few months then I'd return to you. I thought our parting would calm you down. Aren't I the fool?"

Orlando's soft cultured voice fell into his tale. "One broiling day I sat in the fierce summer sun, the only mad foreigner in attendance at the sweltering outdoor cafe. No one bothered me this way: I had grown tired of fellow European travelers plunking down next to me to discuss the so-called bloody heathens who occupied Turkey. After one too many encounters with such narrow-minded bigots I learned to sit outside and brave the overwhelming sun in order to gain my sweet privacy.

"I tried creating shade with the aid of a large-brimmed straw hat. This particular afternoon an old book recently bartered for at the market captured my rapt attention. I sipped a warm bottled beer and let the busy city flow around me.

"I wish I had never found that cafe."

ORLANDO: 1894

After I set down my beer a light voice speaking in hesitant French drew my attention. "Excuse me, master, are you the Britisher?"

A small, brown-hued boy squinted over at me. The blazing sun cast a glowing halo about his thick dark hair; the effect partially obscured his face. "Am I... why yes, I am of British descent. However I don't know if I am the Britisher." During my travels in Turkey I intensified my remaining British accent. I thought people acted far more coldly to Americans. Within ancient Diyarbakir's black basalt walls it felt better to feel accepted.

"I was told to seek the beautiful, long-haired Britisher who eagerly searches for ancient magical knowledge in bookstores and markets," murmured the boy, a little bow punctuating his respectful words.

Hmm, this ploy sounded extremely suspicious. My voice regally snapped at the lad. "Really now. Who told you to seek me?"

The boy took my haughty tone in stride and bowed again. "The mighty Adar Amen's footman. He told me to find you so his master could meet you."

Oh really? "Well now, little one, your tale is quite puzzling. I do not know this Adar Amen so how could he know of me?"

"You frequent certain bookstores and ask many questions plus you seek the type of ancient knowledge that only Master Amen understands. Forgive my ignorance, my noble sir, I am merely sent to seek you out," he bowed again while appearing terribly apologetic.

"You speak French remarkably well for a young boy. Did this Adar Amen teach you?"

My simple question startled the lad into open panic. "No, master, oh no! I would never imagine entering the mighty Amen's presence; he is a lofty... " The boy uttered an incomprehensible phrase then he babbled on. "No, I am a blessed boy for my mother works at the Diyarbakir museum and she teaches me languages because she wants me to make something of myself. That is why I am coming to you now because I can speak to you. Please, sir, will you come with me?"

"What? You mean for me to follow you? I think I'll pass on your little plan, my dear boy. The notion of being accosted and robbed of my meager possessions doesn't appeal to me," I scoffed. "Now be off with you." As I spoke I reached in my trouser pocket, planning to offer the fascinating lad a coin or two.

As I fumbled the lad held up a pleading hand. How odd; now real fear flared in his black eyes. "Wait, please wait, young sir, I am to show you this to gain your trust," he murmured. He carefully reached into his beige robe then his fingers drew forth a cloth-wrapped parchment. As I watched he removed the covering with painstaking care. What was he showing me? Dear God, was that an aged manuscript page? Smiling shyly the boy held the page out to me.

I slowly accepted the ancient document. When I glanced over the archaic words and drawings a sharp gasp ripped from my chest. I swore the brutal sun glowed hotter. My breath caught in amazement. What a remarkable treasure!

My stunned eyes examined the lad's solemn, watchful face. "Boy, where did you get this page?"

Yet another bow bobbed my way. "From Adar Amen's own footmen. He claimed you might need positive proof that Adar Amen wants to teach you, noble sir." As my new companion spoke his large dark eyes respectfully gauged my shocked reaction.

The delicate page dazzled my wondering eyes. "My God, this is utterly incredible." The manuscript page the boy showed me had been plucked from an ancient tome on sorcery. Everyone thought this important grimoire the stuff of legends yet now a fragile page from the handwritten book rested in my sweating hand. I greedily thought before today no modern man had ever looked upon this fabled treasure. The ancient page looked original, well, unless someone had gone through great trouble to fake the obscure page. But why? As I thought my heart beat even faster until the blazing sun reminded me to calm down.

I stared at the waiting boy before anxiously biting my lower lip. Yes, if he possessed such an exotic text this Adar must be a skilled master. The thought of reading other majestic works, of even being able to merely touch their stunning pages, completely intoxicated me, yes, all common sense vanished from my fevered mind. I had traveled to Turkey for this very reason, to seek ancient mysteries, and to simply dismiss the opportunity without truly knowing; oh no, I couldn't do it. No, no matter how great the risk.

Decision made. As I rose my trembling fingers returned the page to the patient boy. He tucked the treasure away and watched as I quickly finished my warm beer. "Oh, I am a poor fool but lead on. I'll know regret this rash action, I know it." I smiled and shook my head. I could hear Viggo scolding me for acting impulsive. Dear Viggo, always opting for caution and sensibility. How I missed him. Yes, after another month I planned on returning home so I could see my lover. But first I must accept this little dare.

The slight boy offered me another curious smile before he gestured towards the busy street. The small figure led me through staggeringly crowded streets teeming with loud vendors, faux beggars and shifty vagrants. As we steadily pushed forward foul stenches and warm spices mingled in my inflamed senses. I swore Diyarbakir's old walls somehow compacted the humanity. The mocking sun stewed everything into a dreadful swamp, it aided by the fetid Tigris river stench. After pushing past a crowd raptly watching an expert snake-skinning demonstration we emerged into a crumbling section of this ancient city. The lad paused, he allowing me to catch up before we slid into a dark, silent alley. At his light touch a weathered wooden door creaked open. Here he halted. His small brown fingers beckoned me to follow him inside. "In here, young master, in here. Hurry."

I glanced around and sighed in resignation. Oh well, if happy thieves waited within then goodbye to my world. Once I grasped the carved door I pushed past and entered a deserted, sun-washed courtyard. I squinted against the bright light's devouring force and mentally cursed its deceptive brilliance. Where was my young guide?

"Boy? Boy!" I called. The old door swung shut behind me and I found myself alone in the heat-washed yard. My heightened instincts told me to flee. I quickly moved toward the door but a sickening pain erupted at my skull's base. As the hard ground crashed against my chest the mocking sun flared away to a nadir...

"Awaken, beautiful one, awaken."

The deep voice washed over me tenderly, the rich tone seeking my numb ears with a lover's caressing breath. For some damned stupid reason I couldn't open my eyelids. My stubborn flesh lay wedged against my eyes like stone blankets. I urged them to open yet they remained secured against my eyes. What the hell was wrong with me? Sick panic rampaged through me; why didn't my muscles obey me?

A soft chuckle sounded near my ears. "No, you are not paralyzed. You can open your eyes, my beautiful one. Due to the herbal sedative in your system the simple task may take much more of an effort than you are used to but you can do it. Come now, let me see those bewitching, earth-toned eyes," he whispered.

My face twitched then I finally opened my stubborn eye lids. After tortured seconds my eyes focused on a flickering oil lamp resting upon a side table. I futilely tried moving my hands with no positive results. My attempt at coherent speech ended with a dry rattling gasp whispering from my throat. Apparently basic speech proved far beyond my numbed vocal chords. What kind of powerful herb had they forced into me?

"Here, little one. Drink," whispered the dark honeyed voice. A metal vessel gently pressed against my stiff lips. The wine's juices seeped through their frozen pose and wet my inflamed throat.

When the voice's owner loomed into view my next speech attempt crawled away. Well over six foot tall he stood in massive shadow against the guttering lamp. Long, thick black hair swept past his immense shoulders, the lengths held back from his high forehead by a simple silver head dress. His ancient face looked like those marvelous faces my archaeologist father had showed me during his digs, yes, how I remembered those Egyptian friezes in the Valley of the Kings. I felt like I knew this... man's handsome, sharp, stern and completely noble features yet to my surprise his flesh appeared pale, not swarthy.

His amused black eyes watched me with an odd tenderness. "Ahh, my beautiful boy, you are full of vital questions, and well you deserve to be, young one. My dear Melior proved correct; you are exactly as he described. I told him to be ever watchful for one such as you. I have been searching for many decades. Now I am well rewarded for my vigilance, oh yes," he murmured, his cold fingers lovingly stroking my hot cheek.

A tortured, "Why?" finally escaped my stiffened throat.

The man offered me a sincere smile before he extended his smile enough to reveal his gums. This simple gesture displayed two small, sharp eyeteeth. "I need you, my beautiful one. I need a strong vessel to keep me alive. Hunting humans for feed grows old for me; I hold neither the time nor the inclination to do such anymore. Devoted servants accommodate my base needs but I'd rather gain sweet pleasure from the feeding act."

Adar watched the raw panic totally possessing my eyes before he continued speaking. "And no, I am not truly a vampire as you understand the basic concept. I am more a god to you. I come from an ancient race that dwelled in the Assyrian mountains long before simple humans decided to walk upright. At first we fed off the numerous animals and felt content. When the intriguing humans began multiplying we decided their rich blood provided far more splendid feed for us."

Once his words died away Adar's noble face contorted in distaste. A brief bow flashed before my dazed gaze. "Forgive my cruel words. I meant no insult. You are my honored guest and I forget myself. We of my kind have disappeared from this earth out of choice; the modern world grows disdainful of its gods and chooses to ignore its true earth magic. I now dwell in these mountains in Turkey, not far from my original roots, while others from my race have moved to different time planes. They find different worlds more to their tastes. Yet I am still interested in watching this world's maddening events. I still regard this earth as my home and occasionally I react to your race's impulsive urges. Believe it or not I halted have humans from a few self-destructive urges but even now events move too quickly for me." He shook his hair. "I feel something horrible threatening your race. You are moving too fast and discovering concepts that might result in mass deaths."

I blinked in complete confusion. Adar held up his hands and sighed. "But that is another matter for later. You see, I also gain enjoyment from teaching pupils but finding a perfect match for what I need has proved near impossible. But you, yes, my sweet beauty, you shall be perfect. I feel your true worthiness. You shall be created carefully and slowly. Your rich blood shall become my life and my knowledge shall become yours. How elegant; you shall need me to drain your blood and I shall need you to keep me alive.

"First comes your cleansing. I must make you new and revitalized. Then, my beautiful one, we will conduct your re-creation into my savior and my dark lover. You burn for the arcane knowledge I can offer you and I burn for your healthy new blood," he smiled, his long fingers again caressing my cheek.

My throat worked in frantic anxiety. The futile act made Adar's smile widen in delight. I sensed this being's ancient amusement. "Oh, you don't have to point out that most lovely part of your body, young one. I already know where to start," he laughed then he leaned into my flesh. Ahhh, those sharp teeth lanced into my neck with hideous coldness.

Then I felt nothing.

Suddenly Viggo tensed in disgusted anger. I felt his heart beat faster in his classic fury. "God Above! You mean to tell me you were taken prisoner by a... Orlando, you can't expect me to... "

"To believe me? No, lover, you don't have to believe me." I easily freed myself from his casual embrace, rose and abruptly stalked to the door. Each step destroyed me. "You don't have to believe anything I say at all. Good night, my dear cousin, and good bye."

"Orlando, no!" Viggo cried, he propelling himself up from the settee. Ignoring his words I placed my hand on the doorknob. I needed this dismal test. Viggo lunged at me and grasped my arm in his brutal grip. No, it wouldn't be so easy. I instinctively jerked away and left my poor lover holding mere air instead of my arm.

Viggo gaped at his hand before his shocked eyes traveled upwards to meet mine. His light eyes speared me. "You cruel bastard, you aren't leaving me, no, not now! Stop playing your wicked games with me!"

"Then don't interrupt me and let me tell you my tale. Stop acting so ridiculously stubborn and listen to me!" Yes, pushing my traditional Viggo felt necessary. I needed his utter compliance.

My poor lover stared at me with perfectly miserable eyes. An impressive string of low curses tainted the air then Viggo collapsed back against the settee and he drained another brandy. After I inhaled a deep breath I re-curled against my unsettled lover and kissed his flushed cheek.

To my relief Viggo embraced me again. His continued acceptance almost frightened me.

I returned to my tale.

---

I didn't know how much time had passed. I only marked the time by Adar's visits. Between those times I drifted in soft clouds of utter nothingness and felt my physical life slowly ebbing away. The only nourishment supplied to me were small sips of a dark, herbal brew which burned my stricken throat. When Adar appeared he nourished himself from my flesh, he gaining pleasure from finding a new area of my body to suck from each time. As his cold fingers reverently stroked my golden skin this ancient praised me as if my body was a glorious art work. One day Adar decided my foreskin annoyed him. He enjoyed my slender cock and wanted to see my pure form. As Adar gently circumcised me I felt no pain; instead I simply laid there and watched his small fangs carefully slice my skin free before he eagerly sucked blood from my newly naked cock. Quite odd.

As the days passed Adar promised me so much, he mentioning ancient texts and grimories I longed to study. I could only think why did Adar say these things if he meant to kill me? My torture must be a cruel, inhuman game, a brutal way for an ancient being to pass his time by stripping the fresh life from me. Yes, I was dying. I felt my death stalking me, I sensed it hovering at my shoulder. Every time Adar took more blood from me my malnourished cells whimpered in protest. They ached as my life seeped away from them.

My eyesight began failing me and I barely sensed my own heart beating. I hadn't moved in a long time. Yes, I accepted my impending death, for I couldn't imagine any other fate, no matter what this unusual creature promised me.

Somewhere in my dying drift Adar's soft voice pierced my overwhelming haze. "Now, little one, it's time for the final cleansing. I want you to feel no pain. Here."

I attempted to focus and finally stared into Adar's gentle dark eyes. A different liquid trickled between my numb lips then a rich herbal taste filled my mouth. My mind slowed with each oozing drop before darkness completely closed in on me.

I awoke. Well, if this was the afterlife then it felt like a soft feather bed. Ambitious sunlight streamed in a large window; the pure light stung my aching eyes. When I lifted one hand to shield my eyes those very eyes blinked in protest at the awful sight greeting them. By the Seven, what was that withered, shrunken husk attached to my body? I blinked again but the horrible sight persisted. A frantic glance told me my other arm looked the same. Instead of my normal arms I now possessed two withered sticks comprised of taut, shrunken flesh drawn over my bones!

No. This horror could not be real! As I controlled my panic I slowly forced my fingers over my face. My trembling fingers traced nothing but bone covered with sharp, dry flesh. A tortured gasp ripped free from my throat. Ahh, the simple sound shot intense pain through my chest. To my horror I moved normally! My horribly withered legs swung over the bed's edge with grotesquely bony animation. No, Hades no, I had become a living skeleton, my bones covered with something alien and dry. By the old Gods the awful desert had finally sucked all wet life from me. When I looked down I saw my weak heart feebly beating against my paper thin flesh. To my disbelief I actually saw my dark blood forcing sluggishly through my straining veins standing out against that desiccated skin. My desiccated skin.

No. I screamed. Ahh, the hoarse, tortured sound hurt my strained senses even more yet I couldn't stop my voice from echoing in horror. As I fell back to the bed I kept screaming in exquisite agony until the heavy, carved door swung open. A burly Turk strode in, his odd hazel eyes displaying an urgent dismay. "Dark one, shh. Please, keep calm. Damn Elenise! That fool was supposed to keep you sedated. Stop, please stop," he urged. His large hands carefully forced my withered legs back onto the bed.

"What have you done to me? What? Kill me now! Kill me! Rather death than this horror... what the hell have you done to me?" When words failed me I shrieked again and twisted in his strong yet gentle grasp. His careful hands felt like stinging acid against my damaged skin. Why did these desert monsters torture me so foully?

Despite his size this powerful man remained gentle. His hoarse voice tried calming me down. "This is a second life for you! Please, dark one, lie back and stop all this needless noise. You will not die nor will you remain damaged. You weren't to see yourself during your initial transformation. Shh," he soothed. His blunt fingers slowly pushed my withered body against the feather pillows.

My struggles exhausted me to the point of collapse. I numbly watched the tall man prepare another concoction. "Here. Drink this. When you awaken you will feel much better, I promise. My master has such sublime hope for you. Please be calm now."

Why resist? After I drank the strange brew a sudden surge of life ripped through my veins, quickly followed by a blessed numbness which swept me back into a silent void.

Was this my death?

I thought not.

When I next awakened darkness pressed against the windows. A slender, raven-haired man glanced over at me, his black eyes growing wide with respectful fear. He rose and bowed towards me before reverently backing from the room. When I looked at my hand I felt amazed at the change in its appearance. To my relief my desiccated flesh appeared healthy, supple, with my usual lean muscles moving under the golden surface. Except for a lingering gauntness my face felt normal! I could only think if I traveled here for strange magic I definitely achieved my goal although I didn't plan on being quite so intimately involved.

As my shocked eyes examined my recovered body the tall Turk entered the room. Obviously my awareness pleased him; a genuinely happy smile curved his lips. "You see, dark one? As I promised, you are well on your way to being as you were, yes, more than what you were," he gestured.

My cultured voice sounded hoarse but normal. "Am I still at the same castle?"

The large man nodded. "Yes, you are at Lord Adar's home. As he told you, you are to be bound to him as he will be bound to you. For now Lord Adar waits until you are completely recreated."

"And than what will happen to me? Shall this... Adar use me like a common sacrifice? Drain me anew?" I hissed in sick fury.

The huge man looked gravely injured. "Never, dark one, never. You must not think so harshly of Lord Adar. Trust me, you are very dear to Lord Adar. He longs for you to be ready for him, and it is my duty as his beloved servant, Melior, to completely prepare you for him," he murmured then he sketched a courtly little bow my way.

My mind heard Melior's careful words but I couldn't comprehend their meaning. "Prepare?"

"You are now being fed the sacred herbs which will grant you eternal life. They enrich your system and strengthen you for my master. Once you are completely recreated Lord Adar shall be able to take blood from you without you even knowing it. You will remain strong and healthy, more akin to a pure god than a mere mortal. In turn my master plans to teach you what you wish to know," Melior explained.

"This is insanity. Pure insanity," I murmured before shaking my head in mocking disbelief. "Fine then, go ahead, feed me herbs. Prepare me. I shall be ready for my death afterwards."

True to his word Melior fed me exotic herbs in delicate sweet cakes and various brews which tasted somehow ancient yet pleasant. When I finally asked which herbs worked such magic on me Melior merely shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you, dark one." Ha, I expected such a vague answer.

As the days passed a tremendous strength flowed through me. The force invigorated my system. I noticed strange phenomenons: my wavy hair grew with amazing speed. I hacked the weight short but it returned to flow around my shoulders. My pale sharp nails demanded daily trimming. At first I went along with the feedings but after a month of this bizarre ritual I staunchly refused to eat the herb cakes.

"My hair grows each day! I cut it and it's just as long the next morning! I have to cut my nails lest I poke my own eyes out. My very veins ache with life! If your master plans to take from me he'd best do it soon lest I rip the flesh from my veins and drink the blood myself!" My hands dramatically tossed the food to the floor in a childish display.

Instead of scolding me Melior merely smiled at me and withdrew from the room. Hissing in annoyance I rose from my bed and paced across the cool floor. As I angrily glared out the window at the rising bluish moon I felt my blood rasp against my veins in a maddening fashion. I could take no more of this agony!

Suddenly a strong presence joined me. A gasp filled my throat. I turned toward the door and saw the mysterious Adar beckoning to me from the darkened hallway. "Come, my beautiful one. It is time. Come," he gestured.

I moved towards Adar then I halted and shook my head. "What are you doing to me?"

"As I promised. I am a... as you might say, a, ha, man of my word, little one." Adar chuckled and beckoned to me. "Now come and learn with me." When I merely stared at him Adar held his large hand out to me. A loving smile greeted me.

My gaze intently studied Adar's stern, handsome face yet I read nothing but his ancient amusement. Damn, what else could I do but believe him? After I placed my slim hand in Adar's I marveled at the contrast. I always thought I possessed capable hands but his huge, pale hand completely dwarfed my slim, golden-hued flesh.

Adar drew me out into the silent hall. We walked along solid corridors of rough-hewn stone, walls long ancient when Christ was born, until we reached a curtained outdoor porch. This structure led into a huge courtyard, the expanse coated with flowering vines and colorful hanging plants dripping with unique blossoms. The amazing plants lent a sweet grace to the forbidding stone walls. I hesitated and let my curious gaze examine delicate midnight blue flowers shaped like curved horns. I had never seen anything remotely like them.

Adar patiently waited and smiled at my curiosity. "May I touch this plant?"

"Of course."

My finger gently touched one alien blossom. To my amazement the long bloom quivered then the frilled petals curled around my finger and gave me a little shock. Oh! The bloom released my finger and as it briefly glowed silvery it almost purred. Fascinating! I glanced at Adar and shook my head in mute astonishment.

Of course my ancient captor smiled at my awe. "These lost herbs exist only in this courtyard. As delicate species die away I try and gather them so they can remain on the earth. Those blue Tertairian blooms haven't been seen by human eyes in perhaps 500 years. Be honored; it likes you."

How amazing! Yes, the plants' graceful presence suddenly told me Adar truly was a special being. Imagine saving what we humans had destroyed!

Once we crossed this fragrantly airy expanse we headed down twisting stairs into the large room where I had been first held. Flickering candles sat in the many alcoves. Their soft glow danced off the couch where I originally laid. In my former agonized state I never realized the tall walls brimmed with ancient books and scrolls. A large table sat in the corner. Look, the surface was coated with ancient texts I ached to gaze upon. Yes, while he transformed me Adar had kept me in his own study.

At the harsh memory I stiffened and refused to move further into the dim room. Adar sensed my deep fear. His one large hand gently stroked my hair in a calming fashion. "That will never happen again. You are as I wanted you, recreated and whole. I kept you close so I could watch your wonderful transformation. I shall never cause you any more pain."

My confused eyes stared up at Adar. I almost lost myself in his dark gaze. Before I could speak fresh agony danced over my skin. I doubled over in new pain. "I ache! My blood boils in me. Yes, before you show me any ancient knowledge you must take my blood. Come, ancient one, I willingly give my blood to you," I murmured. "Please take what you need from me."

A delighted rumble of laughed erupted from Adar's thick chest. He slid a fond look over me. "Ah, yes, being willing is a fine thing to be. But aren't you my mistrustful young modern man? Don't you want proof of our bargain?"

"I only want to rid myself of this odd sensation. I feel the blood flowing in my veins like a vast red river. I feel my heart beating every second, feel the ebb and flow deep within me. Lessen the feeling, ancient one. You want to, I see the urgent need in your wonderful eyes. Please," I begged. My fingers grasped his large hand against my flushed cheek.

"Very well, my beautiful one." Adar carefully embraced me in his massive arms then he gently bit my neck. I gasped in stunned ecstasy. How could his bite feel so perfect? Suddenly I felt the warm blood travel from my throbbing veins. The odd sensation of sex and death tightened my cock. As he continued sucking from my flesh my body instinctively nestled against Adar's strong form. My hands ran over his broad chest. Saints and Devils, I actually sensed my life blood renew his flesh. I buried my face in his long, herbal-scented black hair and sighed in delight. No pain, no feeling of helplessness overwhelmed my astonished mind. Instead the blood-fueled minutes passed in a pleasurable sexual blur.

Adar finally released me and laughed at my lustful expression. "See? I promised you I would never hurt you again. You are extraordinarily special, my dear one, and your blood is pure and sweet. I cannot drain you. If I had taken that much blood from a normal man he would be dead. Yet here you stand whole and alert, my beautiful vessel of life."

I swam in the sensual haze flowing over me before I stroked Adar's heavy hair along his shoulder. A damaging thought suddenly grasped my brain. "Wait, then I will never leave here. I cannot leave here. You have condemned me to remain here!" As I spoke my fierce temper melted away my dreamy state.

Adar's commanding eyes captured mine. His ancient gaze diffused my anger with remarkable speed. "Think; there is no need for you to leave, beautiful one. We are now bound to each other. You need me as I need you. Now you will never experience boredom, no, for I can teach you the vast knowledge of the ages. We can practice powerful spells which haven't been whispered of for centuries, yes, we can summon ancient beings which roamed the earth when I first came to be. You offer me a quick intelligent mind to train, a clever mind that can look beyond the real world. You are a unique creature in many ways," he breathed. "Now come, my little one, now for my side of the bargain."

"Orlando, stop. Let me... " This time Viggo rose and agitatedly paced to the tall window.

I sighed, sipped my wine, and watched my poor lover wrestle with his deep agony. I couldn't imagine how torn Viggo must feel.

Instead of looking at me Viggo spoke to the night sky spreading beyond the window. "This ancient monster planned to keep you there forever? As his so-called life vessel?"

"Yes, that was Adar's grand plan, to keep me there forever as his lover and his life. And as insane as it may sound to you, I didn't care. I fully accepted the deranged situation. Adar took from me every night, and in turn I learned amazing spells and arcane rites which I never imagined existed. Part of my logical modern mind screamed with the enormity of his barbaric act, enslaving me so basely, yet I didn't really care. Each night Adar took from me and after we had my lesson he made love to me, and I didn't care about the outside world," I shrugged.

Viggo turned and stared at me with shadowed eyes. As he studied me his full lips twisted in jealous anger. "Did you love him?"

Poor Viggo. My human lover could never understand what happened in that ancient castle. "Not real love, no; instead Adar awed me, his power and his ancientness fascinated me. He treated me like an exquisite being, as something unique and special. I was special; immortal yet still fully human. As a lover Adar's power overwhelmed me; he totally claimed me. Love? I was brainwashed, seduced, changed and promised a world of glorious knowledge. I will not lie to you: when I was with Adar I loved him like no other. Adar owned me. Yet some days he rested and I thought of you and felt used, since I realized the wrongness of my bizarre life. Yet once I returned into his dark world Adar made me forget all my doubts. The knowledge I received, ahh, no mortal man before me ever indulged in certain rituals. And I knew I was a mere infant in his complex world. Adar could summon demons, not mere ignorant hateful spirits, but intriguing creatures which possessed awesome knowledge and amazing visions. Some of the more playful ones even liked to... "

I halted in cautious dismay. Best not tell Viggo all my unique experiences. I didn't think he would accept my exquisite coupling with fallen angels turned demon. Nor could he understand how Adar took me to heights of primal sexuality. Yes, in Adar's ancient hands I was a mere child. We spend each night locked in overwhelming sensuality, our bodies merging and blending, his massive ancientness mauling my civilized elegance. I adored his every searing touch. I adored being ripped apart and recreated.

No, I could never tell Viggo all my powerful sexual experiences. I loved him too much to hurt him so much.

As I hesitated Viggo shut his eyes and returned to the couch. His shaking hands splashed more brandy into his glass.

My sympathetic words broke free before I really thought about their meaning. "Oh lover, you are drinking too much."

Viggo stared at me before laughing in pure disbelief. "I am drinking too much? Ha, this statement comes from someone who drinks human blood to live? Please, cousin, pray let me drink my brandy. At least I hurt no one but myself."

I deserved those words. Viggo brimmed with his hurt and he logically lashed out at me. His jealousy intrigued me but he would never understand Adar's timeless power. As I experienced Viggo's agony I tried explaining the sensation. "My love, imagine what I can do to you when I want to then times it by the ancient power of an inhuman being who lived for many centuries, yes, perhaps from when the earth first existed. Remember when I called you to my bed from across the city? Do you remember?"

"Oh my God, yes. I felt completely overwhelmed," Viggo breathed. He suddenly comprehended my words. "Orlando, I feel so saddened by my jealousy. I suppose to your way of thinking it's a foolish human trait."

"I feel jealous of anyone who touched you in passion while we were apart. I'd like to punish them."

Viggo stared at me anew before another shaky laugh emerged from his precious lips. "Then you will only have to punish a few young male whores because no one else tempted me. If I became too drunk I sought solace from a pretty youth in one of the city's higher class cribs, yes, he was a clean, sweet man, all smooth flesh and long black hair. Thank God our esteemed Commissioner Roosevelt didn't shut down all the pleasure houses. But I loved no one at all, you beautiful witch. You ruined me to love."

A dense silence welled up between us until I poured myself more wine. As Viggo leaned back against the settee his brandy-reddened eyes steadily regarded me. No love dwelled there. Damn, I sensed his fury might mount a revolution against his love. "So what happened, my lover? Why are you sitting next to me instead of being a life vessel in a cursed Turkish castle?"

Since Viggo asked I told him.

ORLANDO 1895

The erotic months gradually passed into a year. My strange life fell into an intricate pattern woven with blood and magic. To my excitement I learned to leave my body. During these journeys I tried contacting Viggo from the astral plane but since I panicked I failed. Yet somehow I sensed poor Viggo's concern for me; those times filled me with sorrow.

During the days Adar taught me intense mental control and through his lessons I learned how to influence people's awareness. My expanded imagination envisioned other planes, other worlds; I never dreamed I could command such powers. True, what could I do with them being secreted away as I was, but, as Adar explained to me, once I perfected my astral skills I could journey where I pleased. If I learned perfect control I could see my Viggo and even love him. At times I thought Adar said such merely to lull me into complete acceptance. My clever mentor knew deep inside I still nurtured a deep resentment at being held prisoner so Adar did everything in his ancient power to make me feel completely contented and loved. He almost succeeded.

Yes, all my captive days flowed together until the terrifying day when everything crashed down from the vengeful heavens.

On this fateful day Melior brought me my usual breakfast and as I began eating the herbal cakes his solemn hazel stare washed over me in uneasy concern. "You must remain in your room today, dark one."

I halted in reaching for my second delicacy and gazed back at Melior. When I viewed the frightening sorrow tainting his changeable eyes my soul shriveled in cold fear. "Why? What's wrong?"

Melior sighed, a tormented sound that further chilled me. "My master suffers from, ahh, how would you say, wicked spells. They have to do with his great age. From time to time he falls into savage depressions; these moods heighten his blood need. During one of these abysmal spells my master could hurt you so he ordered me to keep you away from him. I just came from mighty Adar and today is one of his bane days." Another forlorn sigh followed his description.

As I puzzled over the startling concept a bewildered frown ruled my lips. "Savage depressions? Adar? How very odd. If my dark master needs blood then why not take from me? Adar claimed he could never drain me."

To my dismay Melior sadly shook his head and held up his hand. "No, yet in taking the blood in an unusually, ahh, aggressive manner Adar could severely injure you. He could disrupt your delicate system. I know you will be in discomfort today so please understand," he urged.

What could I do but nod in confused resignation? After I finished my breakfast I strolled down to the shady garden and read the 12 th century illuminated manuscripts Melior brought up to me from Adar's study. One side benefit of Adar's training was my new fluency in different languages. I now read all aspects of the Greek language as expertly as an Athens scholar. Yet as the day lengthened the sick tension caused by Adar's so-called depression swelled against me, yes, it pushed at my soul. Adar's ancient grief deepened and shifted into a terrifying force which accentuated the energized blood writhing through my veins. When the bleak power welling up from my master's lower chambers completely tainted my acute senses I escaped back to my room

Yet by sundown my slender body throbbed in unadulterated agony. My demanding blood ached against my veins; if someone had injected me with acid it probably would have felt the same. Soon I curled on my bed and moaned with mindless pain. As he tried soothing my burning trauma Melior fed me bitter herbs and gently massaged my flesh. Something he fed me blessedly lulled me into a tranquil trance.

But when I clawed to awareness the next morning I screamed until I feared my throat lining might burst. Before I could rip my own blood from my veins the watching Melior forcibly restrained me. After he swiftly tied my thrashing wrists to the carved wooden headboard Melior patiently forced nourishment between my unwilling lips. Today the normally pleasant food tasted like garbage. When I tried biting his fingers for the fourth time Melior ceased his efforts, murmured respectful apologies to me and left me alone with my lessened pain.

For some reason today the soothing herbs only dulled my pain. As the hours trudged along and tumbled toward night my body again began feeling as if someone merrily forced sharp-tipped metal wires through my veins. I had never felt such excruciating pain in all my life! My continuous wounded keening hurt my ears.

When Melior returned in the late afternoon I kicked and howled in unearthly agony. Summoning all my remaining will I angrily yanked against my wrist bounds. Each yank sent splinters through my flesh. "Let Adar have me! I can't stand this horrible feeling! I'd rather die!" My total anguish slowly destroyed my coherent mind. As I ranted Melior merely stroked my long hair in dismay and whispered comforting sounds in an ancient tongue. Nothing he tried helped me. Instead I screamed in pure agony and tried ripping open his thick forearm. My silk-thin sanity sought a quick exit. Enough!

When Adar quietly entered the room we both froze and stared at the doorway. My shrieks abruptly faded away.

"Yes, how perceptive. I can cure you, my beautiful one," Adar murmured, his normally gentle eyes alien with his mad hunger. I was used to seeing those deep eyes alive with knowledge, intelligence, and even love. They now held my death in them.

Melior leapt from the bed and bravely stood before me shaking his head in fierce anger. "No, my master, no! Not yet. You will hurt your dark one! You are almost sane so leave him alone!"

"Melior, stand away from my little one. Stand away now. I do not want to hurt you, my old friend." Adar's powerful form slowly advanced towards us.

Instead of complying Melior held firm, his solid body tensed for confrontation. "No! I cannot let you destroy young Orlando! Master, please, if I let you hurt your precious dark one I know you will torment me beyond time itself. Listen to me. Leave him alone."

As he snarled Adar reached out. His fingers casually gripped Melior's thick neck. My mentor's hand moved so quickly I barely comprehended the fierce gesture. Suddenly Melior's muscular form crashed against the far wall and slid down to the floor. By the Devils below had Adar killed his loyal retainer? No! I laid there panting in sheer terror then I watched Adar turn back to me. "Ahh, my little dark one, my precious, gloriously golden whore. My beautiful blood whore. Yesss," he smiled, displaying his lethal teeth.

My voice sounded small and frightened. "Adar, no, wait! Please don't hurt me! You swore you'd never hurt me!"

"You ache. I ache. Enough talk." As Adar whispered his fingers freed my wrists from the bed frame. By desperate effort I thrust up, scrambled off the bed and barely escaped Adar's sudden lunge. I frantically staggered out the door yet each step delivered fresh agony to my aching body. Of course Adar proved too swift for me. His hands halted me mere steps from the room. When his large hand clenched my hypersensitive upper arm I screamed in surprised pain and continued screaming until Adar pressed me close. "Be still, little one. Your screams are unnecessary and extremely annoying. Yes, my beautiful one, let me cure your blood ache." Adar's words trailed off into low growl then he suddenly ripped his fangs into my straining throat.

At first Adar's bite relieved the burning agony crawling within me. Long moments passed then Adar kissed me with vicious intent and to my utter horror he sank his fangs into my lower lip. The sharp pain paralyzed me. After Adar gnawed on my lower lip in complete joy a hoarse growl erupted and he ripped my lip from my face.

The dazzling pain slammed into my tormented mind. No! Once he sucked at my gushing lip Adar slashed my emerald robe apart then he ducked down and flayed my chest. His relentless fangs opened a huge raw wound. My rich red blood spurted free. Adar's fangs raked across my chest, sank into my nipple and tore my flesh free.

Why was this happening to me? My emerald robe darkened with my bright blood yet I never lost consciousness. I wanted to, ahh, I desperately needed to flee my pain. Now I understood what Melior meant; this bloodletting turned into my slaughter. My transformation made me able to stay aware during such an unspeakable act. I watched my very life flow out of me in thick pulsing streams. I watched this horror. I watched, unable to flee the unbelievable sensations! I felt myself dying, felt my physical destruction on an astonishing level I never dreamed possible. Adar's fangs repeatedly slashed my aching flesh. Still I merely watched my ripped skin and my red blood spatter across the dark stone floor...

"My lover, I... " As I relived the foul trauma my voice died away. Viggo's eyes shut in agony yet his fingers soothingly caressed my cheeks and hair. Kind of him. I inhaled a deep breath then I trembled from the awful memory. "I can remember that special day so clearly. Oh, I remember everything about it: the bitter smell of my own blood, the searing pain, the certain knowledge that my life would end soon. Above all I knew I would never see you again."

A silence gripped us until I found my voice again. "Yet I was wrong."

Viggo pulled me close and rested his chin against my temple. His fingers slowly massaged my trembling arms. "My poor lover, I don't think I want to hear more."

"I am almost finished." And it only grew worse.

Adar ripped off the tatters of my stained silken robe then his fangs pierced my cock. Exquisite agony beat me. Although I knew I was dying I prayed Adar wouldn't rip my cock off; I'd rather die with my precious flesh attached to my body. Silly notion. Now my body bled from dozens of deathly red rivulets. Raw open wounds covered my lean chest in an insane flesh patchwork. The livid rents exposed living muscle, bone, and, to my horror, one pulsing lung beating under my ribs. The world before me shimmered with overwhelming pain so I focused on the blessed mirage and lunged for the relief. Yes, I tried diving into my own death. I needed my death. Through my welcome death haze I saw Melior race up. His strident voice nearly shook the stones.

"Master! NO! You're destroying him!" Melior's large fist swung at Adar's head and pounded his temple. Melior's desperate force stunned Adar into halting his rampage against my dying body. Now Adar roared in demonic anger and whirled on his faithful servant but Melior shrieked at him in a language I couldn't comprehend. By that time I had slid to the stone floor and numbly sprawled in a widening pool of my own thick blood. How odd to feel my blood cooling as it fled my trembling body.

My destroyed mind chanted in insane agony. Please let me die. Please let me die. Please. Let. Me. Die.

My ultimate pleasure never occurred. Instead hands lifted me up and a huge sobbing, like the voice of an overwhelmed God, reared up in total anguish.

"My poor dark one, oh by the Seven, forgive me. By the Sacred First what have I done to you?" howled Adar. Strong arms carried me and soon I felt my bed beneath me. Suddenly sweet darkness granted me relief from my wild pain.

When I next awoke Melior stared at me in deep sorrow. "Ahh, little one, how do you feel?"

I numbly stared at him then I shook my head in mute agony. I wanted to ask why didn't you let me die? Why?

"Melior, I felt him awaken... "

At the sight of Adar I screamed again and frantically tried rising from my bed. To my terror I found myself too weak to move but a few inches.

"No, no, my poor lover, I am well now. Be calm. Shh... no, oh such sorrow! Only the Old Gods themselves could feel such profound sorrow," he whispered. As Adar spoke his gentle hands held me close. "I grieve, I ache, I torment myself for bitter eternity for what I did to you, but I went mad. Occasionally my ancientness overwhelms me and I lose myself to the darkness. I descend to the base blood beast deep within my old soul. Melior, my brave Melior, he tried halting me yet what have I done to my beloved dark one?" The sorrowful expression filling his handsome, stern face terrified me.

I gasped then I raised a trembling hand to feel my lower lip. At least a tender lip now existed. As I gazing over my slender chest I winced at the remaining gaping chest wounds but I also understood my skin healed with remarkable speed. "I don't understand this horror! How... I am still alive and almost whole!"

Adar shook his noble head. "But at such a price. My little one, I had to give you my blood to heal your devastating wounds. I fear what will happen to you now."

Through my remaining pain I concentrated on Adar's sad words. "Your blood. What do you mean what happens to me now?"

"Shh. Rest now. While you recover I must find another vessel for a few nights. Rest now, my poor dark one, rest." After Adar tenderly set me on the mattress Melior supported my head and helped me drink a sweet herbal brew. I slid into fresh darkness.

As the following painful days crawled along I understood what Adar feared for me. My brutal wounds quickly healed yet my body began changing. My smooth skin's golden hue slowly faded to pale translucency. Instead of feeling filled now my shocked veins felt stripped. A transformation slowly crept over me.

One morning I awoke and cried in surprised pain. Why did the bright sunlight streaming in the airy room make my newly pale flesh ache? Melior gazed sadly at me before he slowly pulled the heavy drapes across the windows. "It is as Adar feared, my dark one. You are becoming as he in a unique way," he sighed.

Reality teased me. Adar had changed me into a vampire! In stripping my blood Adar ruined my complex system; in replacing my blood with his he completely corrupted what he had created in me. I passed from being Adar's immortal vessel into becoming his twin, only I was a true vampire. Adar had been born such a creature, while I had been created. My mind struggled with the concept and failed finding any solace. A vampire. I was becoming a vampire.

Each night Adar gazed at me with great sorrow, he feeding me a multitude of archaic herbs and potions in an attempt to correct the damage inflicted upon my being. Ancient chants, more spells; nothing worked. At Adar's request shadowy beings examined me and merely shrugged in defeat. Every day I felt my control slipping. Adar refused to feed me any more blood for he feared once this occurred I would be lost forever. The herbs my mentor concocted kept me aware and functioning, but I felt myself needing something more potent, something more... alive.

I lived in grim despair until the one day the unthinkable happened. I never discovered exactly who planned the treachery, but this was the new age, and even these primitive desert people no longer held their dark gods in such high regard. Adar used to be feared as a great aulak, a vampire demon, and no one dared come near, yet this all this changed in one day. The massive castle came under attack just after sunrise. Bold desert bandits stormed the keep, they seeking the treasure they thought lay locked in its mysterious walls. They attacked with the light since they knew of Adar, and even if he was a legend they took no chances. I remember awakening to screams and the smell of smoke filtering into my shuttered room. As a horrible pain lanced through my chest I staggered down into the beautiful vine-coated courtyard. No! I saw Adar being ripped to pieces by at least 15 bandits. His mighty chest displayed a bloody ruin but still he fought, his arms flinging men away from him until they overwhelmed his immense strength and thrust curved swords into his proud heart. Adar roared in demented pain and dropped to his knees.

I froze in shocked anguish. A distraught Melior appeared. His hands grabbed my arms then he dragged me down a dim back staircase. He urgently pointed towards the burning sand mocking my staring eyes. "Go, dark one, you must go. Flee! Escape from this wretched sorrow."

How could I venture into the bright day? How? I clung to his thick arm in complete fear. "No! I cannot leave Adar and I cannot endure the sun's light! No! The sun burns my transformed flesh!"

"You must go! I must try and help my master so flee! Cover yourself and flee!" Before I could protest further Melior tossed a heavy black cape over my shoulders. I found myself flung through the massive stone doorway into the dawning day. The thick wooden door slammed shut behind me. I frantically beat on the ancient wood before I collapsed in exhaustion.

The burning sun peered over the far mountains and sent glowing tentacles down to harm me. No! Whimpering in pain and fear I stumbled across the rocky cliffs until I finally reached a shallow cave carved into the hillside. There I curled away from the growing sun, my fragile skin in immense torment from the beginning heat. I felt Adar's mighty life battle on. One last searing pain shuddered my body then nothingness filled my soul.

Oh, I knew Adar was dead.

I sobbed at both my maddening pain and his senseless death. I now knew there was no chance for me to be a normal man, no chance at all. I must return to the castle to see if I could salvage any of Adar's research. Even as my mind planned this salvation journey I eventually passed out from my excruciating blood haze.

When blessed night cloaked the desert I gained consciousness, crept back to the castle, and entered the open main gate. The castle's upper wooden floor still licked with orange flames. After I entered the hall the charred remains of Adar's headless body surrounded by many dead bandits confronted me. As a last insult the desert dogs had set him afire. I stiffened, outraged by the horrible sight. He never deserved such a fate. Never.

Loyal Melior, his body hacked to large pieces, rested a scant foot from his master. When I leaned to close his wide eyes he gasped and stared at me. As I choked in amazement I staggered back and almost tripped over a dead bandit. "My dark one, I felt you return. I tried remaining since I felt you return. You are gone to my master now, as he is gone from us. You will be as he, needing blood to survive. But revenge our master: follow those who betrayed us and take revenge. When the time comes you will know how to accomplish the chore. I have failed you both, dark one, and I pray my Adar forgives me," he choked.

I stared at Melior's bloodied face with total incomprehension. "But how can Adar be dead? Melior? Please don't leave me, please. I don't know what to do I— I—"

Melior sucked in a blood-sodden breath, shook his wounded head and managed a grim smile. "Dark one, I must pass on. Adar already brought me back one time to serve him. This time I am destined to go on and serve my master in the great beyond. I hold no answers for you at all, my poor dark one, no... "

His compassionate hazel eyes slowly glazed over. "Melior! No!" I frantically shook his bloodied form then I released him. A roar of fire from below alerted me to the danger I faced. Adar's research, my only hope of normalcy, lay in the studio! When I entered the basement rooms I battled the destructive flames. The bandits had set Adar's ancient library ablaze out of spite, terror—I know not what drove them. I only knew I would hunt those cretins down for what they had done. My hands began aching with the burns I received trying to recover the sacred tomes. With great despair I realized the main text containing the code to my mysterious creation had already been reduced to a smoking mound. There was nothing I could do but gather up a few remnants and flee back to the grand courtyard.

I rested against a column and let fury flood me. As my stinging eyes glared at the raging destruction my burnt hands produced huge blisters. A soft cry sounded to my left. What? My tearing eyes saw one of the bandits struggling to his feet. Ah, he tried escaping the flames. .I stared at him and let my overwhelming anger sweep through me. Perfect. My revenge could begin immediately.

I knew unless I ingested nutrition I would die. My body told me, yes, my cells fiercely screamed to me what that specific nourishment should be, had to be, must be now. What better way to begin my learning experience then on this pathetic wretch who blatantly destroyed my world, on this sniveling beast who murdered any chance I had of being normal? What better way indeed.

I stalked across the floor towards him, oblivious to the far ceiling caving in with a shriek of splintered wood. The thief saw me through the smoke and began babbling in a mix of broken French and Turkish. I didn't hear his words, no, I only saw his filthy neck beckoning to me in seductive silence. After I knelt next to him I grabbed him close and offered him a fierce smile. My blisters broke in glistening oozing streams but I felt no pain. "So you thought to rob my noble lord. You pathetic cur, you can't imagine what you have done here, what you have done to my poor life. Oh, yes, now your life is a worthless thing, my fine would-be thief, except to me," I whispered before whipping my sharp, strong nails across his panicked throat.

His blood welled from the vivid slash, it bubbling up like red wine against his sooty skin. A choked scream escaped his lips but my long fingers pinched his nostrils shut and cut off the irritating sound.

I knew once I performed this act I was doomed. At that second, at that precise moment, I only thought to live: I certainly wasn't thinking of the long-term consequences of my actions. My fingers drew his foul neck close then I began drinking, slowly at first, then with more urgency as I realized his life faded away. Adar never took the blood unless his meal came from a living thing. My mentor believed dead blood was tainted blood.

I supped until I felt the cur's breathing cease. My hands dropped his body back to the stone floor then I stood and felt an eerie sensation rumble through my veins. It was quite unlike the weak effect Adar's herbs had on my failing system. Adar knew at the end my existence would all lead to this final act. I know how hard my master tried preventing this sorry occurrence. Although I had been destroyed I forgave Adar for his actions. Even he, as mighty and ancient as he was, could not perceive this wretched ending.

I had gone over.

Another sickening crash reminded me of the current danger facing me. Vampires weren't immune to fire. The smoky courtyard stretched and shimmered in the immense heat. Once oriented I staggered across to the steps, up to my room then I swiftly gathered dark clothing and cloaks. My next attempt to reach the kitchen met with failure. My instincts mockingly told me nothing there would be of any practical use to me now. Foolish thinking. My feed lay slinking in the desert.

I stumbled from the burning castle, collapsing when I achieved a safe distance. There I stood alone in the desert, abandoned without the true knowledge to survive.

But I did know. The bandits would have set up camp nearby and I must find them. Quickly. As I traveled across the scrubby brush-dotted sand the darkness aided me. My senses instinctively knew which way they had gone. I felt them; I... yes, ha, once beyond the disruptive blaze I actually smelled their sweat and, better yet, their blood.

After a few dark hours loping across the sand I found them. Their ranks had been greatly lessened by Adar's might and I thanked him for his ancient power. The arrogant bandits hadn't strayed very far from their kill. This brash confidence would be their last mistake.

Before attacking I stowed my precious books near a rock. The posted guard didn't make a sound as I slithered up and struck him with my nearly healed hands. Demons and Saints, I nearly broke his neck. I was ridiculously strong! After securing him with his own robe I watched the remaining bandits huddle about the fire glow. I counted how many were left. Only four remained. Very good odds for me.

I tucked my wild hatred deep within my soul then I staggered into their camp and sobbed in faked agony. As they leapt up from their drunken sprawl they gaped at me in sheer disbelief. I collapsed at their filthy feet and continued sobbing.

I heard their wondering words as I pleaded in broken French to them. A pathetic tale poured from my cracked lips, telling of my terrible captivity in the horrific monster's castle. Only their noble actions and the ensuing chaos allowed me to flee that evil place. Now I needed their help to escape safely across the desert.

When I halted their leader looked at me with mocking interest. I recognized that filthy look from other disgusting men who thought my sensitive face oddly enchanting. Filthy pig! As I pleaded my cause I easily enchanted his appraising gaze. "Please, I must journey across the desert... please help me. I'll do whatever you want only take me with you."

When a tragic sob wetly welled in my throat I was reminded of some cheap Gothic heroine. No trembling lass lay here: instead my mind stood coldly waiting for the proper moment to strike. I needed these brutal men.

The leader smiled then his hands ripped open my damaged robe. He eagerly pulled me close against his blood-encrusted robes. The cool night air teased my naked skin. The others jested at his actions, they offering him cruel suggestions on how to best use my lush mouth.

"A nice little celebration gift, eh?" he leered in rusty French. I merely went limp and allowed him to push me to the hard ground. Once my flesh kissed the hard earth I lunged back up and swiftly slit his throat with my knife-sharp nails. Before the others knew what occurred I grabbed his sword and slashed at two of them. The third man tried fleeing, he screaming "Sheitan" over and over. I caught him with ease and stunned him with a hard blow to his jaw. I didn't want to kill him.

I needed him.

He would indeed think me Satan after I finished with him in a few days and dumped his drained corpse. I'd certainly deliver his pathetic soul to some dark god.

I stood there, looming closer to insanity than I had ever come as the night air cooled my rage. My attack had proved so simple, so pleasurable. I glutted myself on what blood I could ingest from the dying thieves, feeling the same violent sensation devour my veins.

Yes, my attractive mouth performed a terribly violent action they hadn't suggested. My lips feasted on their pathetic lives. Once I staggered to my feet I spat at them in a fury, knowing they had completely ruined my life. Losing all control I hacked at their bodies with a sword, awkwardly butchering them before I shook myself aware and staggered away from the disgusting carnage. Stop. Tie up the unconscious man.

Their horses would make my journey very convenient. After I slung the two bodies across the one horse I placed water for them and the horses on the third horse. Adar's stolen wealth was stuffed in various saddlebags. I need that for when I returned to civilization. I would need my mentor's wealth to travel away from this cursed country.

Think. Ahh, yes, something important prodded my feverish brain. Act on the thought My fingers swiftly relieved the dead of their clothing, even though their stench permeated the very cloth. Yes, I would need the bloody rags for shade against the sun; although I had grabbed a few cloaks I didn't know exactly how light sensitive I had become.

Poor Melior was right. I knew what to do. Now I possessed enough food to reach the city and enough wealth to send me beyond Turkey. I found rocky outcroppings to keep safe in during the day. When faced with no shelter my claws dug deep cooling holes.

I knew how to survive.

I did.