31 comments/ 107949 views/ 164 favorites Fire Ch. 01 By: Enithermon Hi there! Totally new to this, so all comments good and bad, but especially constructive are very much appreciated. Either way, I hope you enjoy. :) -enithermon *** The night was cold and was growing long. Thea fought to keep her eyes from falling closed. It didn't help that the bonfire, her only source of light, made her face burn and eyes ache with its dry heat. She wished desperately that she could turn from it, and cool her over-heated flesh, but the best she could manage was to move her head slowly from side to side, evening the flames invisible lick like one would a spitted roast. The image sent her into a dry hacking cough of a laugh. She'd fallen ill in the last two days, she guessed from the strain of not knowing what was to happen to her, and from sitting alone in the cold and dark. Now the chill that swept down the cliff face, off the granite rocks made her back seize and tense worsening the cough, and made her arms ache all the more as they hung suspended above her head. The bound wrists chaffed red and raw with her attempts to escape the strange sensation of being charred on one side and frozen on the other. Well perhaps that is an exaggeration she mused to herself...but she was just close enough to the fire on one side and the stone on the other to feel the effects of both most uncomfortably. You'd think if they were going to dispose of someone as a sacrifice they would at least have the decency to make them comfortable, especially if they didn't have the guts to make a quick death of it. "You'd think so wouldn't you" she whispered softly into the night. She had few friends in the little town however. Few meaning none. As an unmarried woman past some magical age that was neither here nor there, and with no family to speak for her, she fell into a dangerous category. Better to throw her to the invisible powers that be than take the chance that she might be a witch or some other stupid made up monster of nightmares and childish tales. She sighed heavily. Did she just stand here then? Tied to a post and wait till the fire burnt down and the cold claimed her, or hunger, or animals drawn by the scent of illness and decay? Since she'd moved here as a girl with her grandparents, both of whom had passed on long ago, she'd never seen a sacrifice. She didn't know what to expect, or what was meant to happen to her. She'd heard that they were practiced, every so often, when great need arose. But she knew of no great need that would necessitate this. A little drought maybe, a couple rough winters, but that was the risk of living off the land. There was no scourge, no pestilence. Bitter thoughts plagued her mind. Poor excuses made to rid themselves of an inconvenience. "Bastards." Her anger woke her and she tried her bonds again, hoping they'd somehow loosened on their own. A foolish thought, but what else was she to do? She succeeded only in rubbing her wrists even rawer as she tugged against the knots trying desperately to wriggle her hands through the rope. The ropes that bound her feet kept her from even trying her strength and gaining slack. Not that she had much strength left. They cleverly brought her out here in the early morning hours so that her chances of starving to death increased. No need to bloody their hands completely. They built their fire and proceeded to make all sorts of impotent gestures at ceremony and religion, strange words in old languages, words that held power. Why? She wondered then, simply because they were old? Simply because they sounded exotic and strange on a modern tongue? It was a lot of superstitious nonsense. Because they'd brought her out so early to begin their foolishness she'd been tied to the post and left, a silent spectator. They'd not fed her or let her relieve herself. She twisted uncomfortably at that thought. She'd been holding her bladder for hours now, and very soon she'd have to face the shame of soiling herself when she could control it no longer. She silently hoped she'd have lost consciousness by then. Then she need not feel the gnawing of her gut or the brittle parched throat and mouth, made more unbearable by the heat of the fire. It was, she noted, slowly ebbing. It was a relief, but also terrifying, knowing that soon she'd be blind in the darkness and there were still so many hours to go before the morning. Her light, her defense against the cold, against the animals she knew must be out there, was gradually dying away. The fire burned too hot, but still, she needed it. She sighed heavily and slumped. All she could do now was gaze into the licking flames, the mesmerizing throb of the embers slowly devouring themselves and wait. "And what exactly is it that I'm waiting for?" She'd spoken into the fire, into the darkness beyond and expected no answer, but she had one anyway. "Death....apparently" She blinked the sparkles of light from her eyes and peered into the darkness, expecting a villager, or official, but she saw nothing. Had she imagined the voice? "Hello?" Gradually a face materialized in the shadows, behind the flames. He stood on the other side of the great fire, somewhere between the ceremonial ring and the blackness of the forest's boarder. They were far enough from the village that no lights or torches could be seen. She squinted at him, trying to place his face, but she couldn't. As he drew nearer she saw his face clearly across the circle. His body was darkly clothed and from what she could see, cloaked, and formless. His face was clear, with sharp angles made sharper as the fire flickered over his features, casting deep shadows over his pale skin. His eyes seemed to glow eerily in the uneven light like the throbbing embers, black with hearts of pulsing blood red. She knew it was a trick of the light, but it caused her to shiver nonetheless. "Who are you?" Her voice came out in a dry whisper. "Just a passer-by" his voice was also a whisper, but his was smooth, almost melodic, deep and rich. She shivered again. "Please" she whimpered, her voice cracking with desperation and hope. She wet her lips as best she could. "Please, cut me down." Her voice failed her and she pleaded with her eyes. She blinked and he was gone. She let out a cry of despair and whipped her head searching for the figure. He was there, his hands already at her wrists, the knot already sliding loose. How? Was she delusional already? Her arms were heavy, too heavy to hold up and her legs buckled. "Strange choice of words poppet" he whispered softly in one ear as he guided her fall. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, around her, behind her perhaps. "How long have you been dangling?" "All day", she choked, pulling her hands into her lap and trying to rub some small feeling back into them. "I imagine I should find you a comfortable stump somewhere then?" Normally that would have embarrassed her, but need always trumped shame. She nodded loosely and felt arms lift her easily. What thought she could spare for this stranger told her he was very strong and very fast, as no more than a brief moment passed before he set her down on her feet wrapping one vice like arm around her waist and lifting her skirt with the other. He wrapped her skirts carefully around her and set her down on a log, helping her shift as she needed. He released her except for one hand which he kept at her back and turned politely away. It was an unnecessary gesture, she was in too much pain and too dizzy and sick to care, but she noted and appreciated it anyway. She tried to speak to tell him she was done but found no voice for it, so weakly lifted one hand to tug on his cloak. He looked down at her, with his pale serious face. She couldn't quite make out his expression in the darkness, and his eyes had become dark pools. Before she saw him move she was once again in his arms and again before she could orient herself he had set her down, this time by a little creek. She didn't wonder long at his intentions because as soon as she realized where they were she felt the cold water against her lips. She drank greedily. He fed her the water in small handfuls until she was gasping with satisfaction and leaned away. She was sitting on her own now, that was a good thing. She sat there and stared at him, and he stared back from those dark pools, on bent knee. Neither moved. "May I ask what that was all about?" "I was a sacrifice." She said softly, her voice sounding stronger, more her own. He arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should put you back then." A sick fear overwhelmed her. She was so close to salvation. "No please" she begged coming forward on her knees about to grab his cloak. He stopped her with a hand, gently gripping her shoulder. "Calm yourself little one. It was a joke." He looked deadly serious. She angled her head suspiciously at him. He returned her look with the ghost of a smile that just barely tugged the corners of his mouth. It made him look ghoulish. "What was it they were sacrificing you too?" "Who knows." She said sitting back with a sigh. "Probably some idiotic fertility god, they've already forgotten the name of." She rubbed her aching arms absently and let out a little whimper when she encountered a sensitive spot. It was sticky to the touch. She looked down to see smears of blood and raw flesh. She whimpered again at the sight. Thankfully she was still too numb to feel too much of it. He leaned in, slowly taking her wrists and drawing her towards him. His face was still darkened by shadows, but his eyes seemed to glow again, as if they'd captured the light of the fire and reflected it belatedly. She watched him cautiously, but again reminded herself he'd only helped her, she had no reason to fear him...yet. Something in her screamed to tear away from him, but she shushed it. He was her only hope she reminded herself, she'd never make it out of these woods alone. He paused and she realized he was gazing into her eyes. He cocked his head curiously and she looked away from the strange scrutiny, feeling her face burn. She watched with trepidation as he lifted her wrists, and looked down at her arms. They two must have made a strange tableau she thought absently. He winced and she frowned then jerked away in surprise as he suddenly laved her wrist with his tongue leaving a swath of fresh blood, his blood, across the torn skin. She cried out, but he held her still. "Stop that" he admonished calmly, as if she were a jittery colt. "You'll hurt yourself" He pulled the other wrist to his mouth and she watched in silent horror as he bit down on his tongue again and coated her wrist in a thin sheen of blood, turning her hand and meticulously covering every inch of bruised flesh. He moved back to the other wrist again and continued to lap until she wore grotesque bracelets of bright red. She trembled in his grip. She knew she was weak, but she could feel that he held her with no effort, and that no amount of pulling, regardless of her strength would free her. This was wrong. This man was mad. Her stomach twisted in terror. He released one wrist which she pulled away and tucked safely behind her back and he dipped the edge of his cloak into the stream and wiped away his blood from the other. She winced preemptively, expecting pain, but there was none. "There. All better." She looked at her wrist that he held aloft for her inspection, and the blood was gone. And so were the scratches, the bruises, or any sign that she'd spent the last 18 or more hours hung by her wrists. She thrust her other arm into the stream and pulled it out. He released her and stood. She could only gaze at her arms in wonderment. "How is this possible?" she frowned and looked up at the cloaked figure looming above her, his eyes once again deep shadows. "What are you?" Fear crept up her spine in twisting tendrils, replacing amazement once again. His head bent down until she could see his eyes. "It would seem that I am your alternative." He held out a hand to her, and once again her body screamed at her to tear away, to fly as fast and far as she could. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to take the proffered hand. It was cold. Very cold. She shuddered again. If he felt the shudder he didn't acknowledge it and pulled her to her feet. She staggered, but managed to find her footing. Her legs were still week and they trembled with the effort of keeping her upright. "I'm not sure I can walk" she admitted, instinctively reaching out as her legs began to waver once more. He caught her arm and pulled her against him, so that they stood toe to toe, his arm looped about her waist. Her heart missed a beat and she forgot how to breathe. The flames in his eyes flashed momentarily and he swung her into his arms in one smooth motion. "Hold on to me", he ordered sternly, but with that same calm smoothness as before. She wrapped her arms around his neck tentatively and cringed. And then they were moving. She thought she must still be light headed because everything seemed blurred, disoriented, until she realized that the wind had picked up and was pelting her face. She turned her head into his shoulder and peaked over it. She realized then that she couldn't focus not because she was dizzy, but because they were moving exceptionally fast. The forest, the village, the fields tore past them faster than the swiftest of horses. In fear she looked to him, hoping for answers. All she saw there was the same calm serious expression that was always on his uncanny face, though perhaps his eyes were a bit more focused. She shut her eyes and clung to him, praying to no one in particular that she might see the dawn alive. *** She didn't remember falling asleep, or losing consciousness, but when she awoke she knew with a certainty that it was much later and that wherever she was it was far away from anything familiar. She knew this because as she lay frozen in fear and confusion she was gazing at a high stone ceiling. The sort of thing you find in castles, or great manor houses, or at least in cities...and as far as she knew there were none of those where she was from, or anywhere near them. She turned her head slowly and saw that she was on a large bed, lying on top of the covers, in a large, but sparsely furnished room. There were a few hangings, a wardrobe and a fireplace with two chairs within her field of vision. She lent up a little and her head swam and ached. The foot of the bed faced a massive wooden door and the other side of the room had a desk. Her heart leapt in her chest. She wasn't alone. The man, her ghostly savior, was lying right next to her. She slipped off the bed and backed away. Her instinct to run, bolstered by fragmented memories of inhuman strength and speed and his strange blood trick, were all countered by a sudden and intense curiosity. He looked much less eerie in this light than in the darkness of the forest. There was only the fire and a number of candles, but he looked far less ghastly, and though he was still a touch pale, it was with an olive undertone. His features were indeed sharp, but in the light were more striking than macabre; he had high cheekbones and temples with a straight aquiline nose and a defined jaw. She admitted taking a tentative step closer that he was darkly handsome in a way, and she also noted with a blush that he had a definitely sensuous curve to his unusually red mouth. She remembered again the strange occurrence with his blood and looked away. Her gaze traveled the rest of his body instead. He was fully dressed but his cloak had been tossed onto a nearby stool, other than that, even his boots remained on. His clothing was plain, belying the simple but elegant nature of the room. He wore high dark brown boots, over similarly coloured breeches. She flicked her eyes quickly over the tight bulge where his dark leather jerkin and fitted shirt met his hips, refusing to let herself blush at the self conscious pang over her own primness. She continued up his body noting that he was in fact quite tall, not having been lucid enough last night to notice it then. He was also rather well built. His straight hips and waist expanded into broad shoulders and chest. The sleeves of his shirt were not tight, but closely fitted enough that she could see the outline of his upper arms against the fabric and that they were anything but flabby. His hands were folded over one another on his stomach which rose and fell slowly in his sleep. They were large, long fingered and elegantly tapered. Her eyes moved slowly upwards, drawn again by the alluring red mouth. She wondered at herself for being so intrigued by it. She'd never remembered staring at a man's mouth before. Then again she'd never encountered a man quite like this one before. She watched the lips fascinated as the straight corners crept slowly up. He was smiling. She gasped with realization and stepped back again, her eyes snapping up to his. She expected those dark flames again, but they were still closed. He did not move. Was he still asleep she wondered? She watched him cautiously before slowly looking around again. She moved finally after a time and tried the handle to the huge heavy looking door, finding it closed tight. She noticed there was a key hole below the handle and sighed. "Don't worry I have the key." She jumped and turned. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his knees. She hadn't heard him move. She wasn't sure how to respond to that either. Whether or not he had the key was not her primary concern right now. "Unless that's what worries you." He caught her eyes with his and held them as he rose. "Can you see my thoughts?" she whispered softly, wondering what other strange powers he had. Was HE a sorcerer, like the villagers feared she might be? "No. You just have very expressive eyes." She blushed and broke his gaze, smoothing her skirts and missing his smile at her shyness. She cleared her throat. "So, what now? Am I your prisoner?" she was careful to keep the accusation out of her voice. Regardless of whom or what he was, he'd saved her she reminded herself again. "No. The locked door was just to keep you from wandering while I slept. I have three servants, and only one knows you are here. You seemed like the type to go wandering off." He straightened his jerkin and smoothed back his hair. It was a dark brown like his clothes and cropped close to his head. He glanced at her as he moved past to unlock the door. His eyes were a deep molasses coloured brown, many shades darker than her light brown ones, it was no wonder they looked black in the darkness. A key appeared in his hand and the door made a loud clunking sound. "You'll wait here a moment?" She nodded and stood back as he slipped through the door, closing, but not locking it behind him. He returned less than a minute later with a tray. She saw a water jug and bread and something steaming. He placed it on the little table in front of the fire. You should eat." He gestured to the food and left without another word. "Not very talkative are you?" she muttered as the door clicked shut, and set about her breakfast, or supper, or whatever it was with ravenous intent. It wasn't long before she'd devoured every scrap and nearly emptied the water carafe. She assumed she was meant to stay where she was and sat in the large high backed chair staring into the fire. She didn't notice the door creak open. "Hello there?" a strong yet feminine voice called out. Thea blinked and got to her feet. She was faced by an older woman, at least in her fifties, wearing a simple homespun dress, much like the one Thea herself wore, and the woman smiled. "Don't you look a sight then. Where ever did master find you, you look like you've been dragged through the dirt." Fire Ch. 01 "So it's not like that with everyone? They don't...." she trailed off not wanting to say what she was thinking. "A few," he answered, "though not often." He frowned and looked down again. "If you were trying to pull away, then I apologize that I didn't respond until you said anything. The scent of your..."he paused and gave his little smile "well it clouded my senses, and told me to proceed. I will endeavour to be more careful." "Ah, no, I don't think I did. " He nodded. "Good then.' He looked up and held her gaze, this time with entirely human eyes. "I probably took more than I needed, I apologize. You should rest. I will bid you good night." She nodded and watched him in awe as he smoothly exited the room. She was still on fire and every nerve tingled, how could he be so calm? It must have been the spell she was under. "Alright fine," she groused to herself "partially the spell." She was honest enough to admit that encounter had had a rather startling affect on her. She fell back on the bed with a sigh and waited until her pulse slowed and skin cooled. She was starting to rethink this whole arrangement, and this was only the beginning. That wasn't a good sign. She wasn't sure she could hold out very long if every time was like that. Then again he'd said he needed less, like just from her wrist perhaps, if he fed every day. So she could just make sure it happens regularly enough that it wouldn't be a problem. Satisfied with her decision she undressed and crawled under the covers and into the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept on. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all she thought mildly to herself as she drifted into a deep sleep. The next morning she rose early enough to find the other three servants at breakfast. They bid her join them and introductions were made all around. May she'd met, she was Barin's wife of many years and had joined Barin here, as he was already a servant to Jairus and had been for quite a while. Timothy was a bit younger than the other two, though still much older than Thea. He was a quiet, and almost taciturn in his disposition, where the other two were jovial and friendly. They explained the general goings on of the place, and that Jairus, only May seemed to refer to him as master, left nearly every night and rested during the day, and that once every month or so he'd leave for about a week, sometimes more, sometimes less and return with money for supplies, which one or a few of them would journey out to collect by day. Where he went for this money they weren't clear about and seemed unable or at least unwilling to satisfy her curiosity on the matter. She wondered if they didn't know, or if they didn't want to talk about that either. No one brought up the vampire issue, and acted like going out at night and having no windows was a perfectly normal. She could only assume that they knew, seeing as how he'd been so open about it with her. But she was happy to play along as there didn't seem to be any easy way of broaching the subject. Breakfast was leisurely, and afterward they all separated and went about chores. She tagged along after May helping with dishes and learning where everything was kept. She offered to take care of the floors as part of her share of the chores, which May accepted gratefully, though guiltily. Thea only shushed her and said that May shouldn't being doing such things any more. The next few days proceeded in much the same fashion, with Barin showing her his garden, which had been where she thought it might, and showing her around. There was a small sitting room and a sort of study/ library on the bottom floor as well and four rooms upstairs. Apparently hers was the smallest, but that suited her just fine. It was certainly the nicest room she'd ever had. Jairus would emerge about late afternoon and remain indoors until the sun set, usually in the study, then he would leave until the small morning hours. The first night he did not approach her except to ask if she was finding everything alright, which seemed funny to her since the place was small enough that there were only so many places to look for anything. She could see he was merely trying to be polite though, so she'd very politely answer yes. After which he'd nodded and left. To a certain extent she was glad he'd avoided her as she found it hard not to start blushing when he was around. The next night however, she found him out in the study and awkwardly offered him her wrist, hoping to implement her plan of making the process regular enough that it wouldn't be as overwhelming as the first time. He'd studied her carefully than accepted. He took from her wrist only for a moment or two before releasing her. She'd felt the rush of heat, but for the short time she was able to control it. She repeated this several days in a row without incident, save perhaps a few rather embarrassing and occasionally explicit dreams which she decided were no doubt a product of the feeding. A few night after her arrival she entered the study, as per usual, to offer herself up as a light snack, which she had been mentally calling it much to her own twisted amusement. He was sitting in a chair reading when she entered. He looked up and closed the book standing and bowing slightly to her. She nodded back and took a few steps forward. "I just came to see if you were, ah, hungry." That didn't sound right she thought to herself. He appraised her a moment before responding. "You know I don't need to feed every day." She nodded. "Yes, I know. I just thought it would make it easier this way." The slight change of expression on his face told her he understood her meaning and he nodded and reached for her. She complied and approached offering an upturned wrist, which he smoothly accepted and bit into without ceremony. She repressed her burgeoning excitement as best she could, gritting her teeth as the pulsing heat radiated through her. It seemed to be getting harder to control. Little voices in her head told her to stop trying, to just give in. The temptation to do so was not helped by the intimate sight of his handsome face bent over her hand, his eyes half shut in obvious pleasure. Was he feeling the same heat she wondered? He pulled away with a little gasp and blinked once or twice, swallowing hard. He looked like she felt, she thought smiling bemusedly. "Thank you" he muttered, releasing her hand and turning away. "Any time." She said lightly. He paused at that and looked over his shoulder at her. She smirked at him and to her delight and surprise he laughed. It was a wondrous sight to see his eyes alight with something other than hunger, and it made her smile broadly. He had a wonderful laugh, deep and reverberating. Even when he recovered himself, his eyes sparkled and smiled at her. She could see now why he didn't smile very often. When he did so fully the sharp points of his teeth were clearly visible, making his grin appear wolfish in more ways than one. He would not be able to hide his secret long it he went about smiling at every one. "I have something for you" he said after a moment, sobering. "Oh?" "I returned to the village." "Oh." She wasn't sure she wanted what he was about to give her. "Unfortunately your house had been pretty well stripped, and much of what remained was ruined in some way." She frowned. "How did you find my house?" He looked askance at her as her turned to pull something from a chest in the corner. "I guessed it was the one with 'sorceress 'misspelled across the front door and the trampled garden." She felt like she'd been slammed in the gut. How dare they. That had been her grandparents' home, the place where she'd grown up. It wasn't much, but it was all she had, it had been her life, and the garden her life's work. Paltry though it may have been, and barely able to keep her alive, it had done so. How could they have been so low, so cruel? But then, was that worse than sending her to her death? She blinked in surprise at the hand on her arm. "Here, sit. I'm sorry I shouldn't have been so flippant." She sat and covered his hand with her own. "No, it's fine, it's not you. It's them. It was my home." She added softly, resisting the burning of tears in her eyes, and the tightening in her chest. He placed a bundle it in her lap. She looked down and recognized the bright patchwork instantly and her heart skipped a beat. "Oh my" she exclaimed and ran her hand over it. It was a little patchwork quilt her grandmother had made for her as a baby. It was worn, and a little tattered on the edges from years of being dragged around by a small child. She'd kept it tucked away at the very back of her storage closet on a top shelf, and sometimes when she was very lonely she'd bring it out to feel her grandmothers presence surround her. No doubt it had been tucked so far back, they hadn't found it to destroy it. She did cry then, she couldn't help herself. Just a few silent tears, she could allow herself that at least. Then she felt a hand on her back, stroking her with a comforting sympathy. It was human contact of a sort she could barely remember. She fell forward then, overcome and desperate for the comfort that she'd longed for these many years. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. He knelt and caught her in his arms as she moved for him, holding her tightly, his hand still soothing her as she exhausted herself of her pain. They remained like that a long time before she pulled away and she managed to gain control over her emotions. She shied away; embarrassed at her display and at the way she'd thrown herself at him. "Sorry, I sort of lost it there" she gave him a sheepish smile. He didn't smile back but gripped her arms, turning her and making her face him. He looked into her eyes, his face serious and eyes whirling with unspoken thoughts. Words he would never speak. She knew what they were, she had those same words, those same thoughts locked inside of her. She knew that face. It was the face of loneliness. But right now, for her, it was also the face of understanding. A face that told her she needn't be alone. She felt calm suddenly, the sorrow of only a moment before having melted completely in the intensity of his gaze. She smiled more sincerely, though tiredly. He seemed to relax as well slowly dropping his hands from her shoulders and standing. "There's more." His voice sounded thicker than normal. He cleared his throat and gave her the blanket that had slipped from her lap. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and opened it. Inside was a little box. It had been under a floorboard under her bed. "How did you find it?" " Not human." he reminded her, returning her surprised look with his more standard spectre smile. She looked down and opened it. It was where she kept everything of any real worth. What little money she had, her grandparents' wedding rings, a necklace her mother had owned...all that was left of her, a tiny carving of a horse in soap stone her grandfather had made her, and a tiny black pearl. It was a strange thing to have. She'd never seen a real pearl, never mind a black one. When she found it her grandmother had convinced her it had been left by faye in the woods. She'd been charmed by the thought and returned to the spot often as a child looking for more fairy treasure. She held the oddity in her palm and smiled down at it. "What is that?" "A black pearl." "Those are rare. Where did you get it?" "I found it, near the very stream you took me too actually. In that same glade." She blinked at that remembrance, what a strange coincidence. He was frowning at her. She frowned up at him in return. He turned away and pulled something else from the chest that had produced her blanket. She could see it was a short blade of some sort. The blade shone in the candle light, and had a sinister curve to it. The handle was wrapped in what looked like red silk and as he approached she noticed the hilt was studded with black rounds...which it dawned on her must also be black pearls. "I wonder" he muttered absently and turned the handle towards her allowing her to inspect the design. The pearls ran in a twisting pattern, running from smallest to largest, except there was a single pearl missing. She looked at the little pearl in her hand and placed it into the little gap. It fit perfectly, its size and shape matching the narrowing curve of the design. She smiled and grinned up at him. "I guess it was vampires then...and not fairies." He cocked his head at her. "My grandmother told me fairies had left it." She explained. He returned her smile and chuckled. He pulled the pearl out and put it back in her hand. "What's this?" He shrugged. "I think I like the idea that it was you who had it all this time. I could never figure out where it went. Keep it." He looked at her a minute then moved away, and re-shelved the book he had left on his chair. "I better go, it's getting late already." She nodded. "Thank you." She called after him as he walked to the door. "For everything." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Anytime.'" He turned and she didn't see his warm smile as the sound of her laughter followed him out into the evening.