My name is Christina Strong, and this is my story. I won't bore you with the details of where I was born, or how I grew up; I don't recall any of it anyway. I don't remember the first boy I kissed, or my mother's face. I have forgotten bedtime stories, walks with my father and going to college. This is the story of the things I do remember, of my adopted sire and close friends. Of love both lost and found. Of the man I dearly care for and how I almost lost him completely to final death. Of course, death is usually final for most people, but as a certain cocky Brujah bastard once told me, we aren't exactly 'people' now, are we?

I sit on the roof of my apartment building with Luke Thomas at my side. I look down at the real people walking the streets of Las Vegas. The lights are bright here as I record my tale, but they weren't always so bright. Maybe I will tell you about the day I was born, or at least the beginning of my life as I know it. It was here in Vegas, actually, on a dark September evening, just after sundown. People lined the streets just as they do tonight, and they had no idea what had awakened among them....

Prelude

I awoke in a darkened alley to a horrible thirst, a terrifying hunger. It was neither. It was both. It was completely devastating. I didn't know where I was or how I came to be there. I recognized nothing around me, not even the clothing I wore. Suddenly I panicked - I didn't even know who I was! I didn't know my name, family, friends or where I was from; I didn't remember anything about myself at all.

I looked around to see that I was lying in the darkness behind a dumpster. I stood slowly, brushing the dirt from my clothes. I was wearing black jeans, white tennis shoes and a plain blue tee shirt. When I shoved my hands in my pocket to look for some kind of identification, all I pulled out twenty-eight dollars and some loose change.

Then I noticed a bracelet on my wrist. It was delicately made of silver and shimmered in what little light filtered into the depths of the alley from the street. I spun the chain on my wrist and realized it was an identification bracelet. I held the tag up to the light and knew my name: Christina.

Somehow I knew the words for things I saw and the meanings behind them, but I had no idea how I had learned them. I searched my memory and realized that I knew concepts and ideas, but nothing related to myself, nothing personal. Not even the slightest glimmer of a memory surfaced.

My head began to ache with the strain of trying to remember. I felt a hunger tearing at my insides and since I had no idea when I'd last eaten, I thought I'd better find some food.

I walked out of the alley and onto a brightly lit street. There were neon lights flashing everywhere, and the street was nearly as bright as day. Casinos, hotels, and people lined the strip. I could be only one place: Las Vegas.

I had no idea how I had gotten there, and no recollection of ever having been there before that night. To all extents and purposes, my life began the moment I woke alone in the alley.

Across the street a long white limousine pulled up. I watched the driver walk around and open the door for his passengers. A tall dark man stepped out who in turn helped a beautifully dressed woman exit the car, but it was the man who caught my eye.

He was impeccably dressed and seemed to carry himself with the dignity of another age. His straight long dark hair glistened in the neon lights, almost as if it had a life of its own. He moved with grace and precision as he stepped onto the curb. He appeared to be young, around thirty or so, but when I saw his eyes I knew he must be much older. He stopped for a moment and looked me up and down. Then he nodded politely to me and turned to escort the woman into the hotel.

I watched the crowd ebb and flow for a few minutes, but my hunger burned deep inside of me. I had to find something to eat.

I turned and began walking down the street, looking at people who passed and wondering if I knew them. I was frustrated and starting to get more than a little frightened.

After a while, I found a fast food stand on the sidewalk and got into line. I ordered something to eat and took it to a nearby table where I sat down and took a small drink of the soda. My stomach rolled, but the hunger still seemed to consume me. I tore the wrapper from the burger and took a bite, trying to ignore the nausea that washed over me from the smell of the food. Suddenly I bolted for the trash barrel next to the table and vomited what I'd just eaten. Blood seemed to be mixed with the bile and I vomited again, more blood. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and backed away from the barrel. I was obviously sick; was I dying?

People were staring at me and I turned to run through a nearby alley, exiting onto a quieter street. I could smell the blood in the people passing me and it made me feel ravenous again. When I thought about buying more food, my stomach lurched. No, I thought firmly, no more food.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the dark haired man from the limousine standing across the street watching me. I kept walking trying to pretend I didn't see him and in moment I had passed him by. I felt his eyes on me the entire time.

A few blocks later I saw him in front of me again, leaning against a light pole. I couldn't figure out how he had gotten ahead of me or why he was following me. Again I passed him, and again he appeared a block or so ahead of me and across the street. I walked past quickly.

Who are you? I heard a strange voice ask.

I stopped and looked around but no one was close to me. The voice had seemed to come from inside my head.

Have you no respect for the Prince? I looked behind me and saw the mysterious gentleman standing near the street and watching me intently. Why have you not shown yourself to her?

Frightened, I turned and ran down first one alley, then another, darting around obstacles and searching for a place to hide. I reached a darkened spot and backed into a doorway out of sight. Leaning back against the doorframe, I slid to the ground, covering my face and giving in to my tears as quietly as I could.

After a time, I lifted my head and brushed away the tears. I started to wipe my hands on my jeans and realized they were covered in blood. I touched my cheeks and looked at my hands again. I was crying blood! Vaguely I though I had to get to a hospital, that I must be dying. I peeked out, looking for the man who had been following me but he was nowhere to be seen. I leaned back against the building and looked up at the slice of sky I could see between the buildings. What was happening to me?

A few minutes later I heard a voice say "Miss, are you alright?" It was one of the Vegas street people, a woman, standing a few feet away from me. "Is there something I can do for you? You look like you're hurt."

I looked at my bloodstained hands and laughed nervously. "I think I'm dying."

As she moved closer, the hunger bloomed inside of me and I started to cry again. The woman walked over to me, crouched down and placed a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of her hand burned through my tee shirt.

I looked up at her and suddenly the craving within coupled with the scent of the woman's blood was overwhelming. I put my arms around her and buried my face in her neck. As her arms went around me, I could feel my canines grow and I sank them, long and knifelike, into the woman's flesh. She didn't even try to fight me.

I was horrified! I was exhilarated! I drew blood deeply from her veins, feeding the hunger that had tormented me from the moment I had woken. The woman wavered in my arms and still I could not stop drinking. I felt the heart inside her chest slow, hear her breathing ease.

I couldn't stop, I drank until the woman was dead in my arms and I could drink no more. Then I licked at the wound to get the last possible drop and watched in amazement while the wound closed as if it had never been. Suddenly realizing what I had done, I dropped the woman to the ground and stood unsteadily. I put a hand to my mouth and felt the fangs, sharp and bloody. "I'm a vampire," I whispered, looking down at her body.

I turned and ran, faster than I would have ever thought I could run. I went down street after street randomly with no destination in mind, only knowing that I must get away from the body in the alley, the woman I had killed to satisfy the hunger within. Near dawn I found myself in a rundown part of the city. I climbed into the basement of an abandoned house and crawled into a closet. I made sure the door was closed tightly behind me to keep out the sun and I slept the sleep of the dead.

The next night when I rose, the hunger rose with me. It was not nearly as overwhelming as it had been the previous night, but it was there just the same. I felt sure that I would not have to feed that night or possibly even the next, but I knew that before too many nights passed the blood would call to me so strongly that I would not be able to resist.

I climbed out of the basement and made my way back toward the lights of the main strip. In an alley I washed the worst of the blood from my jeans with later dripping from a drainpipe. Then for hours I walked and watched the people and I wondered what life had been like for me as a mortal.

Then I saw him again, the gentleman who had followed me and spoke into my mind. I backed into a shadowed doorway hoping to hide from his dark gaze. Why do you hide from me? I heard his voice speak in my mind. Perhaps you fear punishment for breaking the Masquerade?

"Masquerade?" I whispered. "What?" I shrank further into the doorway and closed my eyes.

Suddenly I bolted, darting through traffic to enter a side road, but he was there before me. I ran back in the other direction, crossing the busy traffic again, and he gave chase.

I ran for what seemed like miles, down one street after another, but he was everywhere I turned. He seemed to be playing with me, staying just far enough behind to give me hope that I had lost him, then suddenly appearing in front of me. I started going down alleys, trying to loose him in their concealing darkness.

After darting down a particularly dark alley, I moved around a corner and froze. I listened carefully to see if he was still following, but I didn't hear him. I saw a fire escape above me.

I glanced quickly down the alley, then climbed the ladder to the roof and ran along its edge. A gap loomed in front of my feet and I nearly fell as I jumped to the next building. I ran along the rooftops from one building to the next. A few times I stopped to listen for pursuit, but I seemed to have lost him.

Exhausted, I sat down on the edge of a rooftop and looked out over the city. I could see the main strip from where I sat and I watched the lights for a while, wondering who the strange man was. After a time I got up to leave but when I turned I ran into what felt like a stone wall. Immediately arms like steel bands went around me and held me captive.

"Would you like to meet the Prince now or after I have beaten you for your insolence?" a deep voice with a distinct Spanish accent said.

"What are you talking about?" I cried, struggling to free myself. "This is America, there are no princes here! Let me go!"

I tried to jerk out of his grasp but he was far too strong. I raised my head and looked him in the eye. The instant I did so I knew it was a mistake, but it was too late; I couldn't look away.

"Relax," he said, his voice a soft purr in the night. Almost against my will I felt my struggles cease. I tried again to look away but his dark gaze held me. After a moment he asked, "What is your name?"

"Christina," I replied, feeling as if I were in a daze.

"Christina," he repeated softly. "What clan are you?"

"What clan?" I shook my head, confused. "I'm not Scottish. I think you have mistaken me for someone else. Please let me go."

He smiled at me, his straight white teeth gleaming in the light that shone up from the street. "I can see you are not, childe," he said. "Tell me where you are from. Tell me about yourself."

"I don't know," I whispered, suddenly afraid of displeasing this man who seemed so much more than a man. "I don't remember anything."

"Then how do you know your name?" he asked.

"The bracelet," I said, trying to raise my arm to show him. He allowed the movement, releasing me and taking a step back. He took my wrist and looked carefully at the bracelet.

"Where did you get this?"

"I don't know, I was wearing it when I woke up last night." I knew I should try to run from him but somehow he kept me there, mesmerized.

He looked into my eyes for several long minutes, as if searching for the truth. "Tell me," he said softly, and I felt absolutely compelled to do so. I told him of waking in the alley and the hunger that had consumed me. I told him about watching the street and seeing him, about the food and the blood and the tears. I even told him of the woman in the alley and the fear of what I thought I might be.

"Childe, do you not know what you are?" the man asked gently.

"I don't know anything," I cried. "I don't know who I am or where I am. You ask me what I am? I'm a vampire!" I began to cry those awful, bloody tears.

"Well, Christina," he said soothingly, "My name is Antonio Miguel Santiago Moreno. We have much in common, you and I." He pulled out a lace edged handkerchief and began to wipe the blood from my face and hands.

"What?" I asked.

"We are both Vampires," he replied. When I gasped, he continued. "Yes, this is true. You require blood to survive, as do I. We are Kindred. Furthermore, we are of the same clan, the Tremere clan. It is the best kind of vampire to be." He took my arm and began to lead me toward a fire escape and down to the ground.

"The most important thing in the world for you and me is to be loyal to the House and Clan Tremere," he told me. "When you were embraced, you made a vow to that effect, even if you do not remember."

"Embraced?" I said as we climbed down the fire escape.

"When you became a vampire. I will teach you the terminology, and the traditions." He smiled at me then led me toward the mouth of the alley. "After loyalty to the Tremere comes the Masquerade. No mortal must be able to prove we exist, therefore no unnecessary killing."

"It was an accident," I whispered. Once I'd started drinking from the woman, I really didn't know how to stop myself from taking it all. The hunger had taken over.

"I know," he told me kindly.

When we reached the end of the alley, Antonio motioned to his limousine, which was parked in the street nearby. "You are alone. I am lonely," he sighed as he helped me inside. After settling down across from me, he said, "With your permission, I would like to... adopt you. Begin your training. You have much to learn about being Kindred and even more to learn about being Tremere."

"What is Kindred?" I asked, looking around the lush interior of the limousine.

"Kindred is what we vampires call ourselves," he said.

I thought of what I believed I knew about vampires and already so much of it seemed false. I would need someone to instruct me, to guide me into the world of the night so I would never kill another human in ignorance.

"You are most kind, Antonio," I told him. "I am honored to accept you as my Sire."

Antonio looked at me sharply. "Childe, I know that you did not lie to me when you said you remember nothing before waking last eve. How did you know the term 'sire?'"

"I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "Maybe the same way I knew this was Vegas and that we are in a limousine. It seems I can remember many facts, but have no memories of how I learned them."

We were both silent for a while as the car moved through traffic. I wondered again who I had been and how I had come to this.

As we pulled to a stop in an underground parking garage beneath a large office building, another thought occurred to me. "Is there a way to find out who made me what I am? To find out who embraced me?" I asked him, carefully avoiding the term sire, as Antonio would be that for me now.

He thought for a moment, then looked away as he got out of the car. "I don't believe so," he told me as he offered a hand to help me out. "I will check into it, but I think you will have to content yourself with the memories you build from this day on. It is not uncommon for a childe to forget everything prior to her embrace. Granted," he added, "it does not often happen to one of our clan, but it does happen."

Antonio held out his arm to lead me to the door. "Welcome to my home, Christina. I believe we will have much to teach each other."

I took his arm and my life began.

Jason

I entered my apartment flushed and warm from a recent feeding. I hung up my coat and locked the door, then turned to check my answering machine. The first message was from Antonio, letting me know that he and Michael Moorecock, his other adopted childe, were going to Los Angeles on business. The second was from my father, asking when I would be coming back up for a visit. I sighed, knowing that I should probably visit him soon but not quite able to look forward to it. I had felt awkward around Papa since the night I had met him in San Francisco. Papa had discovered I was still alive and I, of course, couldn't remember him.

The last message made me smile.

"Christina, why did I give you a cell phone if you won't carry it?" Jason's voice chided me. "Look, I'd like you to come to San Francisco tomorrow night," he continued. "Give me a call, my cell phone is on."

Jason Kline was truly a product of the electronic age. He thought everyone should be reachable all of the time. I preferred privacy, especially when feeding, but I was glad that he had called.

He was something of an enigma to me, to everyone really. Jason was mortal but seemed Kindred, and lived by the belief that the less your enemies knew about you, the less power they had over you. And Jason's 'employer,' Graves, had many enemies.

Being with Jason was like rediscovering my teen years. He was dependable, strong, romantic, and very attractive. His many disguises and aliases only made him more interesting and mysterious. Jason had also saved my life repeatedly and without hesitation.

I couldn't tell Jason how I felt about him; I lacked the basic relationship skills to do so. That didn't seem to matter because I could tell he knew how I felt. He didn't try to take advantage of my feelings, and for that I cared about him even more. I knew without asking that he felt the same way about me.

My only regret about being a vampire was that I could never have a normal life with Jason, that I could never be a normal girlfriend or wife for him. We would never live in a house in the suburbs, we would never belong to a car pool, we would never watch our children run laughing in the sunlight. I thought back to the first time that I had seen Jason, or 'August,' as he had called himself then.

I was torn from sleep by the sound of the door to my room bursting open. I sat up, holding the blanket to my chest to cover the thin nightgown I had donned before climbing into bed just before sunrise.

A tall man with shoulder length brown hair stepped into the circle of light cast from the lamp I'd left on. After a quick glance at his face I was sure he was Kindred.

Sounding like a hero from a popular movie, he said urgently, "Come with me if you want to live!" His voice captivated me, but still I nearly laughed at him until I saw the smoke rolling in through the open doorway.

The man turned and slammed the door shut, then pulled out a pistol in each hand. Using phosphorous rounds, which explode on impact, he literally blew a hole in the outside wall of the hotel. Holstering one of the guns, he turned and held a hand out to me.

Hesitating only a moment, I jumped up, grabbed my bag, and took his outstretched hand. Quickly he pulled me through the hole he had made and across the lawn to a car parked nearby.

I glanced back to see that nearly the entire building was in flames. If he had arrived a few minutes later, I would have been been destroyed. The man opened the driver's door and pushed me inside, then got behind the wheel and sped off into the night.

"Thank you," I said quietly, brushing my long dark hair out of my eyes and pulling down the hem of my nightgown. I reached into my bag for jeans and a sweater. When he didn't reply, I looked at him and asked, "Who are you?"

"A friend," he said. "I have been sent to keep you safe." He glanced over at me as I pulled on a pair of jeans, then looked back at the road. "My name is 'August Christopher.'"

His voice had a pleasing Southern accent, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to this handsome stranger. It was more his mannerisms that attracted me than his good looks, but I found it hard to trust him. It seemed too easy to believe he just happened to be in the right place at the right time to save me. I didn't find out until much later that his real name was Jason Kline and he was really a ghoul.

"We must leave San Francisco tonight," he told me urgently. "I have made arrangements for us to fly to New York in a private jet."

"Wait," I protested, pulling the sweater down over my nightgown. "What's the rush? I am supposed to be helping the prince with an important investigation."

"Do you think it coincidence that the hotel you were sleeping in was on fire?" he replied, his voice grim. "You need to leave town or you will die."

"Why do you care?" I shot back, angered at his high-handedness.

"I have been instructed to keep you alive," he said, and would say no more.

I brought my mind back to the present and picked up the phone to dial Jason's number. I walked over to the overstuffed couch in my living room and sat down. He answered on the second ring.

"Christina?" he said with a mild Spanish accent. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, 'Martín,'" I replied. 'Martín DePorres' was his current alias. "I just got home. How are you?"

"Terrible," he said. "You must fly to San Francisco first thing tomorrow evening to make it all better."

I laughed. "I hardly think my presence alone can cure what ails you."

"You'd be surprised," he told me seriously. "Really, I'd like you to fly in tomorrow. You'll never make it tonight." It was only about an hour before dawn.

"What's up?" I asked. "Is there a hurry?"

"I have us booked on a flight to the Caymans the day after tomorrow. I've made all of the arrangements so you'll be completely safe." He paused a moment, then added, "I know you need some time away. Tell me how you are really doing."

I looked up at a large painting above the television. It portrayed a young woman looking out over an oceanfront cliff at a brilliantly colored sunrise. A part of my mind wondered if I had ever seen a sunrise like that.

"Better," I said honestly.

"No more nightmares about Salem?" he pressed.

Less than a week before, Jason had rescued me from a dungeon Salem, Massachusetts. The prince had kept me locked in a room with a weak inner cell that held a human for me to feed upon. To her disappointment I had refused, knowing that the man was the father of a good friend of mine. Beth had died at the hands of Michael and Antonio.

"They are fading," I said slowly. I didn't mention that the other nightmares were still with me, the ones I'd been having for the past five years but never seemed to remember upon waking, shaking and drenched in fear.

"'Martín?'"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for coming for me." I said softly.

"I could have done nothing else, remember?" he said, affection strong in his voice. "My life for yours."

"I remember everything about you." I told him with a smile. And I did.

"Can you come, Christina? I'd really like to see you again."

"I'd love to come, 'Martín,'" I told him. "What time is my flight?" He gave me the necessary information. "I'll be there," I said.

"I'll be waiting," he replied.

I got up and went over to replace the phone in its base, then opened the drawer in the table and pulled out a framed picture.

It had taken me several weeks to convince Jason to let me take a photograph of him without any disguises. We had gone up to the roof of my apartment building and he had stood near its edge, the lights of Las Vegas spread out behind him. He looked so different without his disguises. His blond hair fell low on his forehead and his hazel eyes shone bright and clear in the camera flash.

I took the picture with me upstairs to the sleeping loft. I placed it on the bedside stand and went into the bathroom. I undressed and got into the shower. I closed my eyes and let the hot water ease my mind. Salem was never far from my thoughts, but I was beginning to put the hunger and the cell I had been a prisoner in behind me.

As I dried myself off, I watched my reflection. My long dark hair fell in soft waves well past my shoulders. My body would remain that of a twenty-three year old forever, tall and lithe. I had an athletic build from being a track star in high school and then in college, or so Papa had told me. I couldn't remember.

I stood straight and turned first one way then the other. I wondered if Jason was attracted to me. I grinned. "Perhaps we'll find out in the Caymans," I promised myself.

I turned out the lights and lay down in the bed. I soon felt the sleep of the dead overtake me as the sun rose in the desert sky.

When I stepped off the plane the following evening, Jason was indeed waiting for me. His long dark hair hung past his shoulders and, once again, I was enthralled by his eyes. It never seemed to matter to me what color they were; his eyes always had the power to make me weak in the knees. Jason kissed my cheek and handed me a dozen blood red roses. I smiled and hugged him. "Thank you," I said.

"The limousine is waiting," he replied. He took my hand and led me out into the warm California night. The driver opened the car door for us and Jason released my hand as I got in.

"Would you like to change before we go to dinner?" he asked. "I have reservations at a very nice restaurant on the bay."

"Unless they don't mind jeans, I suppose I'd better," I said. "How nice is this restaurant?" I had packed for the islands, although I should have expected to need formal clothing while with Jason.

"Actually, I have made arrangements to stop and pick up a gown for you," he replied. "If you don't mind."

I smiled. "Of course not."

The limousine pulled up in front of an exclusive shop a few minutes later. Jason escorted me inside where we were met by a trio of expectant mortals whose only task seemed to be pleasing me.

Jason excused himself to change into a tuxedo while I found the perfect dress. It was long, black, tight and sequined with a plunging neckline and a skirt slit to mid-thigh. When I went back to the car, Jason looked awestruck.

We drove to the restaurant and were escorted to a corner table with large windows and an excellent view of the bay. After we had been served the main course, Jason asked about my father.

"He's doing well, I believe," I said, smiling. "He was worried about our disappearance. I'm afraid I had to tell him we went off together on a romantic getaway."

Jason grinned. "We did end up together. Are you still getting on well with him?"

"As well as can be expected given the circumstances." I replied. "I think it would help if I could remember more of my past."

After a moment, Jason leaned forward. "Christina, I haven't asked you this before as I didn't want to pry, but would you like me to look into his past? Or yours?" My face must have shown my surprise for he added, "Didn't you ever think about it?"

"It just didn't occur to me not to take him at his word," I whispered, looking down at my food. "However, there are some things he won't talk about."

"The green-eyed boy?" Jason asked. "I've seen the picture. Roger still won't talk about him?"

"No."

I had found a picture of a dark haired boy in his early teens standing beneath a maple tree. The boy had dark hair and flashing green eyes. I could just make out a faint scar on his neck below his right ear. The boy was trying to look stern, but I could see laughter in his face. I had seen the same boy in one of the few nightmares I remembered, but my father refused to admit he even existed.

"I just assumed he was a boyfriend that Papa didn't like from where I grew up."

"Helena."

"Yes."

It was difficult learning about my mortal self and knowing I may never remember anything more about it than I already did. I was silent for a moment as I looked out the window without seeing the view. "Do I really need to know?" I asked softly. "Is it even relevant anymore? After all, as much as I used to be Christina Strong, daughter of Roger Strong and student at Berkley, I don't remember any of it now. It doesn't seem real to me."

"It's your choice," Jason replied. "I won't look into it unless you want me to."

I met his eyes, my mind warring with my heart. "I guess you could do some checking," I said at last. "Just don't tell me what you find out until I ask you to."

"Of course."

"Unless there is something really important that I should know," I added, not knowing what that could possibly be. I became aware of the bracelet on my wrist and again wondered where I had gotten it.

"Not a problem," he said, then he sighed. "We do, however, have a different problem. We have to postpone our trip to the Caymans."

"Why?" I was dismayed, having looked forward to spending time alone with Jason.

"My... 'employer' has asked me to travel to London for him, then transport an item to Mid-Eastern Europe. It should only take a week or so," he told me, "and I thought it would give me a chance to show you the monastery."

His 'employer' was Graves, a low generation Gangrel, and he frequently sent Jason away on missions. I had never met Graves, but I found it hard not to resent his infrequent intrusions into our lives. I had to remind myself that because Jason was Graves' ghoul, he was obligated to do anything Graves asked him to, no matter what the consequences, but I really didn't understand the hold the man had over Jason.

"The monastery?" I asked, confused.

"Where I was raised," he said. "I would like you to see it."

I was pleasantly surprised, Jason had never asked me to accompany him on a mission before. "I take it you want me to go with you to Europe?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. "That is, if you would like to go with me. We could go to the Caymans, or the Bahamas, or wherever you would like as soon as the item is delivered."

I smiled. "I'd be delighted to accompany you, 'Martín.'"

"I have made all the arrangements," he told me and my smile grew into a grin. "We'll leave tonight and stay tomorrow in Salem. You will have a chance to see Brenda before we fly out tomorrow night."

Brenda Thompson, my sister in that she was also Antonio's childe, had visited me briefly before driving back to Salem. She was now studying with the Tremere Chantry there at the new prince's request. Brenda's father was the mortal that Beth had wanted me to feed from, and I had barely been able to resist.

"That would be great," I said.

After we had eaten, the band played a slow ballad and Jason asked me to dance. With a smile I took his hand and followed him to the dance floor. We had danced many times over the past few months and I knew we moved together well.

Jason held one of my hands near his chest and put an arm around my waist. He spread his fingers in the small of my back and I put an arm around his neck to play with his hair at his nape. I looked up into his dark eyes and he smiled down at me affectionately.

As we moved about the floor, Jason pulled me closer to him until our bodies touched and his chin rested lightly against my temple. He hummed along to the words of love the singer crooned and I allowed myself to believe he meant the words she sang.

"Love, I want to hold you forever/Forget the cares of yesterday/Tell you how much I love you/And let the world fade away."

Our bodies fit together perfectly as we moved around the floor. Slowly I inhaled the scent of Jason's skin beneath his subtle cologne. Very faintly I smelled the Kindred vitae within him and I smiled. Jason was a wonderful dancer and I loved being in his arms. I enjoyed every movement, every touch of his body on mine.

That dance seems frozen in my memory now, as sharp, clear and real to me as my own skin. I'd never felt in my whole existence the way I felt in Jason's arms. I wanted it to go on forever, needed it to, but of course it didn't, it couldn't. At the end of the song we walked hand in hand back to our table.

After we sat down, I asked, "Has anyone found Lucy?" Lucy was a little girl who had also been a captive in Salem. She'd gone missing after Jason had brought her back to San Francisco.

"Actually, yes," he replied, leaning forward. "You might find this interesting. She turned up in Flint while Brenda and the others were still looking for Beth's box. Get this: she's Kindred."

"What?" It is usually very easy to tell Kindred from mortals. I had spent quite a bit of time with Lucy before our capture, and if she were Kindred, I should have known. "When was she embraced?"

"Some time ago, it appears. She's Assamite."

Assamites are the assassins of the Kindred community. They could only be hired by princes, and always took their payment in blood. They were also experts at disguise. I had once nearly been killed by an Assamite who had been impersonating Jason.

"Who was she after?" I asked.

"Apparently she was supposed to keep Beth from getting the box." Jason shook his head. "Michael was very upset about the whole thing until he discovered she'd been hired by Stuart Williams, the prince of Flint. He has since forgiven her for the deception." He chuckled softly. "From what I hear, she talked him into going to an amusement park. Without a suit."

"That I would have to see," I replied dryly. I had never seen Michael out of a business suit, and he always looked impeccable.

"She's sending me pictures," Jason said. We both laughed.

Soon after, we left the restaurant and went directly to the airport. During the flight to Boston, Jason went over our aliases with me.

"I will be Philipe Roache," he told me, "a French insurance salesman going home from an extended business trip in the states."

We sat in the cockpit of the private jet he used when he was travelling. He had put the automatic pilot on only moments before, and now he turned to face me, a small jewelry box in his hands.

"You will be Christina Roache, my new wife." He opened the box and took out a beautiful engagement ring and wedding band. The diamond on the engagement ring was very large, nearly a full carat. The wedding band was intricately engraved with vines and leaves; the leaves twined together in such a way that the two rings appeared one.

I sat stunned, staring at it; I'd never expected to wear his ring, even in this type of situation.

"We met in San Francisco and I fell for you instantly," he continued as he slid the ring on my finger and raised my hand to his lips. His eyes told me that part of the story was indeed true. "We had a whirlwind courtship and were married in Las Vegas. Now we are on our honeymoon traveling through Europe before we return to Paris where we will live in bliss for the rest of our nights."

I laughed softly at his words and studied the ring. The diamond glittered brightly in the cabin lighting.

"Don't you have a ring to wear?" I asked him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another small box. "I thought you'd never ask, Christina."

I took the box from his hand and opened it. The man's band inside matched my rings perfectly. I took it out and reached for his hand.

"Are you proposing?" he asked half in jest.

I looked up at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I don't wear just any woman's ring," he said with a smile.

I knew he was joking with me, so I decided to play his game. I shrugged and put the ring back into the box and tried to hand it back to him. "If you're not interested...."

He refused to take the box from me. "Christina, you know I'd wear your ring with pleasure," he whispered seriously. His eyes caught me and for a moment I could think of nothing else. Then he held his hand out to me.

I glanced at it, then opened the box and removed the ring. I took his hand in mine, enjoying the warmth of his skin. I slowly slid the ring on his finger and looked up at him. His sweet smile would have knocked me off of my feet if I had been standing.

I reached up and cupped his cheek in my hand. "Aren't you going to kiss the bride?"

He grinned and bent closer to me. My arms went around his neck as he pulled me closer and kissed me gently.

We stayed over the day in Salem, and I had a chance to talk to Brenda. She was more than happy for the opportunity to study in the chantry there. It helped that Salem was so far away from Vegas and Michael, they'd had a falling out about her embrace and he still hadn't gotten over it. I also talked a little with Micky George. He was a childe of Elvira Van Dorn, the new Salem prince, and he seemed familiar to me somehow, but I couldn't place him.

It helped my peace of mind to be back in Salem. I made time to go back to the room I'd been held in. Elvira had ordered the wall Jason had destroyed repaired and everything completely cleared from the room, including the bars of the inner cell.

I stood for a moment in the center of the room with Jason at my side and looked around. I closed my eyes, remembering the hunger and the pain. Then I let it slip away from me and was able to begin the process of dismissing the experience to the past. I didn't have nightmares for several nights, and when I did, they weren't about Salem, they were about Italy and Jason. On the flight to London from Boston, Jason changed into his new alias. His hair was very dark, nearly black, and fell just to his shoulders. He wore very blue contacts and a mustache that tickled my skin when he kissed my cheek.

We arrived in the early morning hours and went directly to our hotel. Jason had arranged for us to have a suite that contained two bedrooms. I didn't know whether to be happy that he had considered my feelings or not. The next evening we exited the hotel to find a carriage drawn by a white horse waiting for us. Jason helped me up into the seat then moved in beside me. I could distinctly smell the blood in his veins and put the mild hunger I felt aside.

Jason had asked me not to present myself to the London prince, as is the usual custom when entering another city, so I decided to forego feeding while we were there. I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that Jason didn't want anyone to know we were in London, no matter how briefly. He had offered to let me feed from him, but as I had drank my fill before we'd left Salem, I refused.

We rode through London holding hands, watching people and looking at the architecture. We stopped at a few places to take a closer look at the buildings at several tourist locations. At one such stop we found ourselves at a large museum. Upon reentering the carriage, a tall dark figure shrouded in long robes and carrying an ancient valise got in with us.

Jason introduced the stranger as Mr. Rawley. When the man kissed my hand in greeting I realized he was Kindred. While the hooded cloak he wore concealed most of his features, I was able to get glimpses of his face in the streetlights. He seemed to be average looking but completely bald and sounded like a native of England. I thought he might be Nosferatu, but couldn't be sure.

We continued our journey, saying little, and at the next stop Mr. Rawley got out of the carriage while we remained inside. I noticed he left the valise behind, and when we pulled away Jason moved it closer to himself. I dismissed the valise from my mind when Jason put his arm around me and pointed out a pair of street mimes on the next corner.

Near dawn, we returned to the hotel and I watched Jason secure the valise carefully before I excused myself. I went to my bedroom and fell asleep as the sun rose.

The Monastery

Upon rising the next evening we flew to Italy. Jason kept the valise close to him even when we were alone on the plane. I wondered what was inside that was so important, but I respected Jason's privacy, so I didn't ask.

After we landed, Jason rented a car and we drove nearly three hours to a small village in the hills. Jason pointed out various structures to me as we drove up the mountain. Near the top of the mountain lay the ruins of several buildings. Parts of a chapel had been rebuilt, but the rest of the grounds looked like the scattered building blocks of a child.

"This is it," Jason said, opening the door of the car for me. "This is where I was raised."

Jason explained how he'd been brought to the monastery when he was six and told he was destined to serve. He had been trained in the ways of God, weapons, and hunting - hunting supernatural creatures like Kindred and Magi. "They told me I was marked," he said, opening his shirt and pulling aside his golden cross necklace to reveal a tattoo in the same shape, "and then they marked me."

"Knights Templar?" I whispered, touching his skin. It was the first time I'd seen his bare chest and the symbol imprinted in his flesh.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Then we both carry a cross," I said, referring to the cross-shaped birthmark high on my left shoulder.

Jason smiled and took my hand. He went on to tell me of the night before he was to go on his first hunt. Two Kindred came to the monastery, one to eliminate and the other to save him. A great fight ensued, and the monastery was destroyed. Many of the people and monks living on the grounds were murdered, and Jason himself was nearly killed.

"When Graves saved me, I cursed him," Jason said softly, his eyes looking out over the ruins and seeing the past. "Can you believe it? I cursed him and demanded to know why he hadn't killed me." He sighed and took my hand to lead me into the ruins.

"He told me that I was in fact destined for something great, and that he thought I should get to know the enemy before I started destroying them. Eventually I was able to thank him, and respect him as my 'employer,' for he has great power and great wisdom."

I wondered briefly if Jason would feel the same if the blood bond that made him a ghoul didn't tie him to Graves. Instantly I was ashamed of myself, as if the resentment I felt for Graves made me somehow disloyal to the man at my side.

Jason led me down a rubble littered stairway, then through several dark corridors and into a wine cellar. He talked softly about what the monastery had been like before its destruction. He showed me several bottles of wine he had been saving that had somehow survived the devastation.

"How long ago did this happen?" I asked.

"Ten years," he said sadly.

We made our way slowly back to the chapel and into an antechamber Jason had prepared for our stay. It was nearing dawn, and as we readied ourselves for the day I heard what sounded like an electronic pager begin to vibrate. Jason removed a device from his waist and pressed one of the buttons on its surface. I watched a small screen pop up and stood to get a better look. "What is it?" I asked. As I watched, a flashing red light began to move slowly toward the center of the screen.

"Perimeter breech," he replied absently, then turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Christina, I need you to do something very important for me."

"What?"

"Do you think you can find the wine cellar again?" When I nodded, he said, "I need you to take the valise down there and keep it with you until I come for you."

"'Philipe,'" I said, using his alias, "you might need my help."

"It's almost dawn," he replied, "and this is more important." He glanced down at the screen where the red light was closer to the center. "Promise me you won't try to help. You can't do me any good in the sunlight anyway."

Suddenly a booming voice rang out. "Mr. Christopher, where are you?"

I looked at Jason in surprise. He hadn't used the name August Christopher since we had left New York together several months before.

"Wait," the voice continued, "isn't it Senior DePorres now?"

To my amazement, Jason actually looked nervous. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly. "Promise me," he demanded.

"I promise," I whispered. I was taken aback to see him so rattled.

"One more thing," he said, pulling a ring case from his pocket. He opened the case to reveal a clear crystal about a quarter of an inch in diameter. It looked like a diamond and was larger than the gem on my hand.

"Jason...." I whispered very softly.

"I want you to keep this on you at all times," he told me. "Cut yourself and heal over it, or swallow it, just keep it hidden on yourself at all times, Christina. It will help me find you-"

Those words struck a familiar chord deep within me, but before I could remember what they reminded me of, the voice called out again, full of menace and anger.

"Maybe its Monsieur Roache now, heh? I don't care who you say you are today, come out and bring it to me!"

I took the gem and swallowed it. Immediately, the bracelet on my wrist grew hot, nearly burning my skin. "Jason," I pleaded in a low voice ignoring the pain on my wrist, "can't you hide with me?"

"No," he said. "He would find us both and you must protect what I've given you."

"Jason...." I whispered again as I looked into his eyes.

I wanted to say so much more, to tell him how I felt about him, about being with him, but he put a finger on my lips. The wedding band he wore glittered briefly in the dim light.

"Shh," he said, smiling to reassure me. "We'll talk about it later." He pulled me into his arms and kissed me quickly. "Now go!"

I ran down the darkened hallway without turning to watch him enter the chapel. I darted through the wine cellar door and closed it softly, then quietly dragged a wine rack over to block to door. I looked around for somewhere to hide the valise, but I didn't see anywhere for it to go that wasn't blatantly obvious.

The bracelet finally cooled and I spun it on my wrist, checking for damage to my skin, but there was no mark. Had the gem reacted to the bracelet in some way? Did they both have some kind of magical properties? I had no way to know and now wasn't the time to think about it.

I could hear shots fired from Jason's gun somewhere above me. Then I heard a great wind and the foundation of the church shook.

Sunrise was coming; I could feel unconsciousness pulling at my mind. I fought it desperately while twisting the ring Jason had given me and trying to figure out what was going on above the rising wind.

Suddenly the door was flung open and the wine rack spun to the side, broken. An old man stood in the doorway, dark and menacing. I pointed my Glock at him and he raised his hands.

"I can't help your friend," he told me hurriedly, his words thickly accented. "Come with me, you will be safe."

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Why are you here?"

"I am a friend," he said impatiently. "I am here to give you help. We must go!"

The gunfire had stopped just after the door had opened, and now I heard that horrible voice again. "Where is it? I must have it!"

"Come now," said the Italian urgently.

"I can't," I cried softly. "I can't, the sun is coming up! I can't be in the sunlight!"

For a moment he looked at me in contemplation, then whipped off his dark cloak and wrapped it around me as I stood holding my gun and the valise. "Give me your hand," he said, holding his toward me.

I hesitated, but something told me to trust him. I put the gun in its holster at the small of my back and gave the man my hand. Before I could pull away, he quickly made a small cut on my palm, then a similar one on his. He put our bleeding hands together and mumbled something I didn't catch in Latin, then rubbed the blood that had gathered on his hand onto the cloak.

"Our blood will protect you," he said urgently, "Come."

I realized instantly that my fatigue had left me and I followed him down a corridor that Jason had not shown me. After about a hundred feet, it led to a stairway and up into the light.

For a moment I was held by the wonder of the sun rising over the mountains, the amazement of the first sunrise I could remember. Then I heard an agonized scream. I spun toward the church and heard the booming voice demanding again to know where 'it' was. I assumed 'it' was the valise I still held.

I gasped to see Jason bound to the altar by glowing bands of blue light, his face a mask of pain. As I watched, light flew from the hands of a tall wrinkled crone-like man with long straggled hair who stood before the altar. Jason's body arched in a paroxysm of torment and his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

I took a step toward the church, tortured by Jason's pain and desperate to kill the mage who was punishing him so. The Italian grabbed my arm and spun me away from the church.

"We must go," he said softly. "We are in great danger. If he sees us, he will kill us both."

"He's killing 'Philipe,'" I said just as softly.

"He won't kill him until he finds what you hold," the Italian replied. "We must get it and you away from here now."

With a final glance at the altar, I hurried after the man. As we ran, I grew despondent. I wanted to return and help Jason, but every time I slowed the Italian grabbed my arm and pulled me along. I knew that Jason would want me to keep the valise away from the mage who held him, but I agonized over leaving him there.

Eventually we slowed to a walk. I became aware of the world dawning around me, grew almost hypnotized by it. I had no memories of daylight, and the morning woods fascinated me. Birds sang and flew among the leaves, small animals peered out from behind the trees, and flowers bloomed at our feet. I was awestruck by the light and beauty all around me. I looked at the sun until my eyes hurt, trying to memorize every detail. I longed for my camera, still in my bags at the church. I ached; I wanted to share this magical time with Jason yet I knew that his torture was the price I paid for this gift. After nearly an hour and a half, we walked into a small village on the hillside. The Italian went to the door of one of the houses and knocked. A woman who looked in her forties opened the door and spoke to him in Italian. He replied in kind, then gestured for me to enter the house before him. He conversed with the woman for several minutes, calling her Maria. When they finished, Maria motioned for me to follow her into one of the back rooms of the house.

I entered the bedroom, which was simply furnished and had no windows. A wash basin and pitcher sat on a dresser against one wall and a bed was opposite. The woman spoke again, pointing first at me then at the bed. When she started gesturing sleep, I sat on the bed with the valise in my lap. Maria seemed placated, and motioned for me to lie down. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her.

I looked around for a moment, then undid the clasp on the cloak and let it fall to the bed. Immediately exhaustion overcame me and I lay back. I clutched the valise as I fell into a sleep troubled by dreams that were more memories than nightmares.

I was at the New York prince's home looking through his library and waiting for my friends to return. I went to the door and looked through the peephole to see Jason standing on the sidewalk. Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the door and stepped back to let him in.

"I'm glad you're here," I told him as I turned and walked toward the study.

"I found something I need to show you."

"I'd like you to do something for me first," he said quietly.

I turned. "What?"

"Die!" he growled. I watched in amazement as the person I'd agreed to trust with my life raised a hand with razor sharp claws and drew back to strike. Time seemed to slow to a stand still.

I went for my gun as I belatedly realized this 'August' was not wearing the same clothing that Jason had been wearing the last time I saw him. Then there was no more time to think as he leapt toward me and I fired at him but my shot went wild, exploding against the doorframe.

Damn.

I felt his claws sink into my chest as I spun to avoid the worst of the blow. I collapsed to the floor, stunned and bleeding. Dimly I watched my blood pool on the floor around me. My vision began to blur as the creature standing above me laughed.

Using every ounce of my will, I brought the gun up and fired. Again I missed, the shot blowing a large hole through the closed door of the brownstone.

"And so I die," I whispered, as I watched the Kindred who looked so much like Jason raise his hand to strike again.

Suddenly what was left of the door burst open. Through blood tears I saw 'August,' my Jason, in the doorway, with large claws on each finger of both hands. He dove across the room and buried his hands in the imposter's chest. The beast fell to the floor in agony, dying.

At once Jason was at my side, shoving the Assamite's wrist to my mouth. When he saw that I was too weak to bite into the skin, he pulled out a knife and slit the vein, then returned the wrist to my mouth. I drank deeply, feeling my strength, in part, return.

As I sucked the cool vitae, I watched Jason slit the beast's other wrist and drink for a moment. Then he placed his hands over my wounds and whispered in Latin while I continued to drink.

Suddenly I felt much stronger although my wounds hadn't healed fully. I shuddered. Was it the Assamite's blood or Jason's healing that had done the trick? I wasn't sure. I pushed the wrist away and sat up. Because Kindred claws had inflicted my injury, it would take many nights to heal, but the damage was fully half what it had been just minutes ago.

Quickly Jason peeled the blood stained clothing from my upper body. I reached for the jacket and pulled out the book, clutching it as Jason threw everything else into the fireplace. He placed his jacket around me, then cut the area of bloodstained carpet and placed it along with Kindred's body into the fire. We watched as the flames consumed them and a foul odor filled the air.

Jason studied me closely. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I replied though I really wasn't sure. My head was spinning and I felt both very weak and very strong. "I'm hungry," I said. I had not drunk nearly enough from the assassin to replace what I had lost.

I could feel Jason's gaze on me as I watched the fire burn and his wrist appeared before me. "Just don't take too much," he cautioned.

With the odor of blood surrounding me I gently took his hand and turned it over to reveal his wrist. I glanced at Jason's face and he nodded at me. Slowly I lowered my head and sank my fangs into his flesh. I drank only what I had to; I needed Jason to be sharp and strong. His blood tasted strange, almost human. At the time I had thought Jason was Kindred, and that he must have fed heavily before returning to the brownstone.

Carefully I withdrew my teeth from the wound, then licked it closed. I lowered my hands into my lap, still holding his gently. I studied our clasped hands for a moment. "Thank you," I said, looking up at him.

He returned my gaze, then helped me to my feet. "I know you have had a hard time trusting me, Christina," he said, "but I really am here to protect you."

I closed my eyes briefly to shut out his probing stare. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I have a hard time trusting anyone, it's not just you." Jason had more than proven his loyalty to me; I knew he would keep me safe. "I will try to trust you."

He squeezed my hand gently....

...And the dream shifted to the monastery. Jason was on the altar, he was screaming, and I couldn't move, couldn't reach him, couldn't save him. Repeatedly the mage wrapped his blue agony around Jason's body and there was nothing I could do to stop him....

The next evening I awoke disoriented. I sat up quickly and tried to get my bearings. As I looked around, I realized I was still in the bedroom of the small cottage the Italian had brought me to that morning. Everything looked the same as it had been when I had fallen asleep.

I looked down at the valise still clutched in my arms and opened it. Inside were many electrical gadgets, the kind Jason adored. A palmtop computer with a small LCD display and a keypad were among them. Also in the case was a bone that looked very old and seemed to be sealed on either end with wax. I put the bone back and pulled out a pouch that held a Glock 22 identical to the one I carried. The pouch also contained two empty clips and four different types of shells. The only kind of shell I recognized was the phosphorous rounds. I loaded one clip with those shells and another with some that seemed to be silver. I placed the gun and the spare clip back into the valise.

I took out the remaining item, which was a planner of some sort. I opened it and found our used airline ticket stubs, and unused train tickets. The planner was organized by country. Under each country was a list of names and numbers.

The train tickets were to a small village in Austria. I turned to the section in the planner labeled Austria and found a phone number for Her Ladyship Lena Stockton.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed Antonio's number. After a few minutes, the operator informed me that there was no answer. I looked at my watch and cursed silently; it was still full daylight in Los Angeles.

I gave the operator the number listed for Lady Stockton. She told me there was no response from the European continent, and asked if I wanted to try that number in America as I had the previous call. I agreed. While I waited for the connection, a light on my phone began to blink; the battery was low. A moment later my call was answered.

"Hello?" a woman with a cultured American voice said.

"Yes, is this Lady Lena Stockton?" I asked.

She hesitated. "Yes it is."

"You don't know me, but I was traveling with someone I believe to be a friend of yours and we were separated. I found your number in his planner."

"A friend?" she asked. "Who?'

What could I tell her? I didn't know if she would recognize Jason's true name. "Well, I'm not sure what name you know him by, but right now he's 'Philipe Roache.'"

"Ah...." she murmured, and I realized she knew Jason very well.

"We were traveling in Italy and were separated. I found train tickets to a village in Austria, but I need help. I have to find Philipe quickly, he is in great danger."

"What is your number?"

I gave it to her and warned her that my battery was low.

"Meet me at the village-" she began, but my phone went dead, cutting her off in mid sentence. Slowly I lowered it from my ear and closed the case. I had no idea what village she referred to and no idea how to get there.

I returned everything to the valise. As I was placing the planner inside, a sealed envelope fell out. It had no writing on it, and seemed to hold a letter.

I hesitated to open the letter. On the one hand, I needed as much information as possible to find Jason; on the other, I didn't want to intrude on areas of Jason's life that had always been off limits to me. Even if he were dead? a voice asked in my mind. I shook the thought away and put the envelope back in the planner and then both items back in the valise. I went into the main room of the house to find that the Italian man had gone and Maria was alone. I tried to ask her where the man was but I couldn't to communicate the question to her.

Maria put a plate of food on the table and gestured for me to sit. It was some type of chicken stew, and I ate it sparingly while Maria chattered away in Italian.

When I had finished, I thanked the woman and returned to the bedroom for my things. As soon as I walked back out carrying them, Maria became upset, obviously trying to convince me to stay, her actions conveying danger in the night. I smiled but motioned that I had to go.

Maria held a hand up, then went to a box on the fireplace mantle. She came back with a silver chain and placed it around my neck. I looked down at the delicate silver crucifix now hanging between my breasts, then kissed her on the cheek. I thanked her again and walked out into the night.

Capture

Once outside, I looked around to find the direction the old man and I had entered the village from earlier that day. I climbed a small rise but everything looked so much different in the dark and I couldn't tell where we had come into the village. I spotted a bright patch in the sky and decided to head in that direction.

After walking for several hours, I stumbled into another village. It was larger than the one I had left, and there were several cars about. I located a tavern but it was closing and only a few drunken stragglers loitered about the streets. I felt hunger tug at the fringes of my mind but held back; I knew I didn't want to be intoxicated while trying to find Jason and I couldn't risk revealing what I was.

I found a car parked behind a building and stripped a wire from one of the valise's sides to jimmy the door lock. I got into the driver's seat and reached under the steering wheel to pull down the ignition wires. I was grateful that Jason had been showing me a few tricks as I stripped the necessary wires and touched them together.

After a few false starts, the engine roared to life. I immediately put it into gear and drove off in the direction I believed civilization lay. I heard some people shouting in Italian and one man leaned out a window, yelling as I drove past while a woman, perhaps his wife, tried to pull him back in.

I had been driving for over an hour without seeing any houses or other buildings when the car began to stutter and lose speed. With a final shake, it stalled and I steered it toward the side of the road. I looked down at the instrument panel and saw that the gas tank was empty. I muttered obscenities under my breath while wondering what to do next.

I reached over and opened the glove box. I found a map within and after a little while I was able to figure out my approximate location. I got out and opened the trunk. A blanket, a bottle of wine and a toolbox lay within. I rummaged in the toolbox, pulling out a roll of tape. I put the wine in the satchel and took the blanket, glancing at the horizon as I closed the trunk. The sun would be up soon.

I pushed the car into some bushes and got back inside. I wrapped myself in my jacket and the blanket and laid down on the floor in the back seat. Soon I fell into a deep slumber.

I was stiff and sore as I got out of the car the next evening. My skin was bright pink from the lack of protection against the sun. I cursed softly as I healed myself, remembering too late the Tremere ritual that would have kept the sun out of the car.

When my skin had resumed its normal color, I put on my jacket and grabbed the cloak, valise and blanket. I headed down the road, alternating between walking and jogging to cover the most ground possible in the least amount of time. I knew I didn't want to use what blood remained in my body unless I had to.

As I traveled, I was torn. Should I go back to the monastery and try to find Jason there? Or should I continue toward our original destination and deliver the valise as Jason had intended? One path risked his life, the other his honor.

Of course, I knew that he could already be dead. If I went to this village in Austria, perhaps Lady Stockton could help me find Jason.

I was several miles down the road when a motorcycle passed me and stopped twenty feet in front of me. I had been so deep in thought that I hadn't heard the engine. A large masculine looking woman sat on the motorcycle and glared at me in the moonlight.

"Can you help me?" I asked taking a step forward. "I need to get to a telephone quickly. It's very important."

"American?" the woman said in a thickly accented voice, her tall body hunched over the handlebars.

"Yes," I replied, gesturing urgently, "I'm an American and I need to get to a phone. My husband and I were travelling to Austria. We were attacked and separated and I must get to a phone."

The woman simply looked at me. After several minutes I began to think she couldn't speak English.

I tried again. "My car broke down-"

"Senior Rosa's car broke down," She stated bluntly, getting off the bike. She was very tall for a woman, over six feet.

Damn. "Senior Rosa's car ran out of gas and I need to get to a town as soon as possible, one with a phone. I believe my husband is in terrible danger."

"What is your husband's name?" she asked. She moved around the bike and began walking toward me.

"'Philipe Roache,'" I replied. "Will you help me?" Something about the woman struck me as strange and abruptly I realized that my bracelet had grown warm on my wrist.

"That is a French name," she said.

"That's right."

"This is not France. How did you come to be in Italy?" She moved a few steps closer to me, and I took a step back.

"We traveled from America," I said.

"There is an old American saying," she drawled, her accent making it difficult for me to make out her words, "'you can't get there from here.'"

"We flew to London first, then to Rome," I whispered, feeling very nervous about her movements toward me and wondering why it mattered how I had gotten to Italy.

I took several steps backward. "Then we rented a car and drove to the place my husband was raised."

"I thought you said he was French?" she said smiling smugly.

"I believe he was born there," I lied, "but he was raised at a church in the mountains."

The woman stopped and looked at me intently. "The monastery?"

"Yes," I said slowly, "he did call it a monastery."

"This man you were traveling with," she demanded, "what is his true name?"

I regarded the woman closely for a moment. Somehow, she seemed to know when I lied to her. "Jason Kline."

"The priest?" The woman's voice was incredulous.

"I believe he left the church some years ago," I told her. I was confused that she knew so much about of Jason.

"But he is not your husband," she stated.

"We were traveling as man and wife," I admitted. "Look, is this important? I have to get to a phone so I can find him. He was attacked and I was forced to leave him."

Suddenly I became aware that the woman was quite near me, close to three feet away. I shifted my burden and reached behind my back for my gun. Before I could pull it out of the holster, the woman lunged at me. Unable to dodge out of the way, I was pinned underneath the unbelievably strong woman, who began sniffing at my neck.

Unconsciously my canines extended and I opened my mouth to drink from her. "You are telling the truth-" The woman stopped as she pulled back slightly and saw my teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

I pushed her off of me and as I rose to my feet I said, "Look, I don't want any trouble and I don't want to hurt you, I just need to find Jason!"

The woman lunged at me again, and this time I found myself rolling in the road about 30 feet from where I'd left the ground, landing near the motorcycle. Unbelievably, I still held the valise. I stumbled to my feet and went for the motorcycle.

I heard a howling as I climbed on the bike and looked back over my shoulder. The woman was changing, becoming half woman, half wolf!

You had to piss off a Garou, I heard in my mind as I searched frantically for the ignition.

Before I could find the switch to start the bike, the werewolf was upon me. She wrenched me from the seat and threw me onto the ground. Her hands were at my throat, my death written on her face.

"Stop!" I cried, making eye contact with the wolf-woman. The Garou stopped for a moment, then loosened her grip and began to howl. Numbly I heard an answering canine cry in the distance.

Soon her friends joined us and several of them pulled me to my feet. I was dragged to the road and stripped of all possessions. They threw me into the car I had stolen, which had been refilled with gas.

Surrounded by werewolves, some human, some half-transformed, but all looking at me with contempt, I had a very uncomfortable ride back to the village I had been in so briefly the night before. When the car stopped, I was yanked out and thrown against a large rock that stood in the Village Square.

Questions began to fly; who was I, where was the priest, where was I going. There were too many questions for me to possibly answer at once.

I stood painfully and told them that Jason was a close friend and that we were traveling to a small village in Austria to meet a friend of his. I said we had stopped at the ruins of an old monastery and were attacked.

I told them of Jason's orders to stay in the wine cellar and of the old man who took me to the first village, then about trying to find a way back to the church but being unable to do so. I explained my unease about asking for help in a town where I knew no one in the middle of the night. I finished by saying that I had to find Jason and that I feared for his life.

I did not mention the package Jason had been sent to deliver, as I believed that he would not want that fact revealed. Unfortunately, they did not believe any part of my story and kept asking me repeatedly what I had done with the priest.

Finally, near dawn, they threw me into a pine box, along with the extra clip I had prepared for my gun. After they nailed the top on, I could feel and hear them drag the box on the ground for a short distance. Frantically I tried to find a way out but I was trapped. As I felt the box being lifted, the languor of morning overcame me and for a time I knew nothing.

I awoke to complete darkness and felt jerky movements, as if I was lying in the back of a moving vehicle. The box, I thought, I'm still in the box. The vehicle seemed to be moving down an uneven road at a steady rate of speed. I put out my hands and felt around myself. I found the clip they had thrown in after me, and remembered hearing the derisive tone of their words as they tossed it in. I placed the clip in my jacket pocket.

I wondered where the Garou were taking me and where the valise was. I realized that I had lost my only link to Jason and I groaned in despair. I did take the fact that I was still alive as a good sign because werewolves were known to kill Kindred on sight. Many of the villagers had indeed wanted me dead.

I levered my legs up and tried pushing against the lid but it didn't budge. I laid back and weighed my options. I realized that I could increase my strength and try to force my way out but for two things; if I failed, I would be close to frenzy from lack of blood. Even if I escaped the box, which seemed unlikely, I would probably be surrounded by werewolves who would be more than a little pissed that I'd gotten out of my box.

Faintly I heard a voice come through the wood near my head. "Vampire," it taunted. I thought was the same woman who'd captured me on the road. "Are you awake in your coffin, vampire?"

"What do you want?" I called out to her. The fingers of my right hand found the ring on my left and twisted it nervously.

"To see you dead, of course," she replied. "But we may never find the priest if we kill you, so we are taking you to someone who will help us."

"Help you what?" I cried. "I've told you all I know! I've told you the truth! You are wasting time; I need to find him! He could die!" I pounded on the lid of the box.

"Do you love him?" she asked me.

I froze. "What?"

"Do you love the priest?"

Slowly I laid my hands flat on the top of the box. "I don't know," I whispered softly.

"Maybe you had better figure it out before you find him," she said. I heard faint movements and knew she had moved away.

Did I love him? How could she ask me such a question? I felt strongly for him, yes, even attracted to him physically more than I had ever been attracted to any other man. He was great to be around, romantic and funny. He always did the unexpected.

Love him? Was I capable of love? Were any Kindred? Yes, I thought, remembering Brenda and Michael. Kindred could love. But did I love Jason? I did not really remember what love was like. I knew I felt affection for people, for Antonio most of all, also for my good friends Estrea Moreno and Luke Thomas. I cared about Papa and Brenda although I didn't know either of them well enough to feel genuine affection for them. What I felt for Jason clearly overshadowed what I felt for anyone else and if it was love, I wasn't sure I wanted it.

As I lay waiting the dawn I wouldn't see and it's numbing sleep I ran my mind back to the dream I'd had at Maria's about the second time Jason had saved my life. I smiled as I remembered how suspicious I'd been of his motives at first, that I hadn't really liked him at all. I thought about how protective he'd been toward me and how, almost despite myself, I'd begun to trust him.

As the vehicle continued to move along, I relived the dance we'd shared in San Francisco. I thought of what he had told me of his past at the monastery. It explained so much to me about who Jason really was. I touched my lips and felt again the kiss he'd given me before he'd sent me to the wine cellar. I regretted more than I could say not making him listen to how much I cared about him. I saw his face wracked with agony as he lay on the altar, the sorcerer standing over him, I heard again the horrible booming voice.

I felt tears begin to run into my hair as I stared into the blackness. My life for yours, he had told me. Now I whispered it in the darkness to him, wherever he was. "My life for yours."

"Nothing will stand in my way," I vowed quietly, "Until I see you again and we are both free."

I had known Jason for such a short time, just a few months really, yet if felt like forever. I swore not to rest until he was with me or his killers were dead.

Love? I wondered. Maybe not, but the possibility could not be denied.

The next night when I opened my eyes to see only darkness, I was aware from the start that I was still in the box. The vehicle was moving down what felt like the same bumpy road and I groaned softly; this was not the way to save Jason.

I waited through the night, the ring on my finger my only company. The woman never returned, and an opportunity for escape never came. I resolved to have patience; some time, some where I knew there would come a chance to escape. As sleep claimed me at dawn, I began to dream.

I was back at the ruins of the monastery and the sun shone high overhead. Flowers danced on the breeze, lightly kissed by bees and butterflies. Birds sang sweetly, and I could see small woodland creatures romping in the sun. Walking walked toward the ruins, I looked at the flower-covered vines and small saplings growing from cracks between the stones. As I approached the altar, the birds and other creatures began to fall silent.

I noticed that the closer I got to the altar the darker the flowers became until, at the foot of the altar, they were all deep crimson. As I looked, I saw that the color was everywhere, staining even the stones and the leaves. The altar itself was covered with the dark substance. Slowly I leaned over and began to lap at the liquid puddled there, cleaning it from the stones. Suddenly I reared back in shock; it was Jason's blood!

A lone hawk cried out in the meadow and I spun to the sound. A man stood nearby, his face in shadow. I walked toward him slowly, then stopped when he held up a hand and I realized it was Jason, his face bare of disguises.

"Christina," he said, "you must go."

"Jason," I whispered, "I came here to help you."

"You can't help me now, Christina," he said sadly. "I'm beyond any help you can offer."

"I won't accept that," I said strongly, taking a step forward. "Nothing short of final death will keep me from you, I have sworn it."

His smile was a near grimace. "I am beyond your reach," he repeated, "I release you from your vow." He began to fade away before my eyes.

"No!" I cried. I reached for him but touched nothing. "I will find you! I'll avenge this, I swear it!"

"I release you," I heard him say as if from a distance, "You can't help me now."

"No!" I screamed wildly.

Birds flew from the trees and animals scattered. Even the bees and butterflies seemed to flee in terror. The sky grew dark, large gray clouds covering the sun. The wind began to rise.

"No!" I screamed again, "I will find you!"

"You will never find him," I heard from behind me above the whipping wind. It was the same booming voice that had called for Jason on that terrible morning.

Slowly I turned to face the withered man who had tortured Jason and rage flowed through my veins. I could feel my fangs extend of their own accord. Abruptly, the wind died.

"Who are you to tell me what I will never do?" I demanded as I walked toward where the man stood several feet to the left of the altar.

His eyes widened, shock running across his features. "I am the one who took him from you," he said as he recovered himself, pleasure in the deed clear in his tone. "I am the one who will destroy him, and you."

"Then you are the one who will die," I replied coldly. "I'll find him, or I'll find you. Either way, I'll find satisfaction, I think."

He laughed roughly. "Do you think you can fight me this time?" he asked.

"Really, 'Tina. I'll win, I always win." He raised his arms and I felt his magic pull at me, trying to force me toward the altar. I read the surprise on his face when I stepped closer to him instead. Again he raised his arms, and again I fought the pull and stepped closer to him.

Then I smiled, showing my extended fangs. He took a step backward, visibly shaken.

"I will find him, or I will find you," I repeated sternly. "Either way my vow will be satisfied. Honor shall be avenged. Beware, crone, don't be fool enough to underestimate me again."

He spun and with a swirl of his cloak, he was gone.

I approached the altar again. I knelt beside it and touched the stains on the stone. So much blood; how could Jason possibly have survived? I had to find him and soon.

The dream faded and I dreamt no more that day.

(c) Cathy J McQuillin 1999