Appropriated

 

by Nina Barhat and Marina Bagirova

Translated to English by Mark Berelekhis

 

Part One

 

** ** **

He had always been a part of my life. When trying to recall my first memory of him, I'm stunned by an impossible scene: there I am, a speechless infant, lying in the vast confines of my crib. The one and only creature who can comfort me with just the sound of her voice isn't here. In her place is somebody else--a giant towering over me, blocking out the whole world. And he's watching me. Simply watching, standing perfectly still. And though I cannot yet understand anything, I am scared…

From those very early days, fear has become my dominant emotion.

As if a child's world weren't scary enough, foolish parents take it even further with witches, bogeymen and other villains from their sordid imaginations. My fear, on the other hand, was very much real. The very sound of his name--Kristoff--would bring me to tears. But it didn't take long for me to realize that nobody gave a hoot about my tears, so I stopped letting them out, and started pooling them inside into a bottomless lake.

Our home was rich and had everything a child could ask for. My room was huge and full of light, charming furniture and toys--a dream of any girl growing up. Beautiful, expensive clothing was the norm. The house was cared for by a large staff--quiet and unnoticed in their professionalism. The kitchen staff was tirelessly coming up with new and inventive dishes to tickle our palates…

But that was where my happiness ended. For all the material things in my possession, the only thing that truly mattered was absent: my family's love.

My father had come to know money and power to their full extent--a fact reflected boldly in his manner. The burden of his hard personality was shared by everybody in the household, with the sole exception of his much adored and beloved wife. But whenever I appeared in his field of vision, a wave of seething irritation swept over him.

And if I tried to strike up a conversation on any topic, it invariably ended in a quarrel.

My mother, so sweet and gentle in her treatment of others--even servants!--shunned me like the plague. The flat, indifferent tone with which she addressed me in those cases where contact was unavoidable drove me mad. And her embrace remained no more than a child's unattainable dream.

When my brother Paul and sister Natalie laughed with exuberance, playing games with their beloved uncle, I was entirely ignored. There was but one relative for whom I felt an inkling of gratitude for her warm eyes and empathetic smile: my aunt Lydia...

It felt as if everybody around hated me. And I never could understand the answer to one simple question: why?!

Kristoff would visit our home twice a year, invisible to others. Without a word he would push open the door, and stride imperiously forward, emanating a tsunami of terror as he moved. Eyes were cast to the ground, conversations were broken mid-sentence, servants would disperse in all directions, and silence would ensue... A dead silence.

Only Paul and Natalie would occasionally display wondrous feats of courage by attempting to engage me in conversation. For this offense they were punished swiftly and nearly as severely as I was for any misstep.

 

He would head into my room, and I followed obediently after. Every time. There was something about Kristoff that kept you from taking foolhardy actions, such as running... or driving a knife into his back. Even as a child I knew: it was hopeless! No one and nothing could help me. I would still need to face him. Alone.

He would close the door, turn and walk right up to me. And then his eyes would suddenly change.

I feared that moment worst of all! It felt as if his hand would close around my neck, choking out last shreds of resistance. His eternal gaze would still time itself, and plunge me into a boundless abyss... How I wished to reach the bottom, to find death and be rid of my tormentor... Instead I was swallowed up by darkness. The sensation was almost pleasant--I only feared that one day I would remain in it forever.

When I would wake, he would already be gone.

Sometimes I would find tiny black dots on my neck or wists, which I would then try to disguise, painstakingly, driven by shame that I myself couldn't understand. Hardly noticeable, like needle tracks, they hurt slightly and only if pressure was applied. But the pain paled in comparison with the splitting headache that would sweep over me. Each of his visits would take days of bed rest before full recovery.

Whenever I tried to complain to my parents about Kristoff, my appeals fell on deaf ears. To teach me to not broach the forbidden subject again, I would be locked away in an empty room. After many hours of weeping in solitude, I would succumb to sleep, emotionally drained, yet wiser with another lesson of inevitability.

But that wasn't the full extent of my plight.

Though he would visit me but twice a year, the sensation of an alien presence was ever constant, haunting me.

Upon my first acquaintance with myths and fairy-tales, I reasoned that he was a ghost--invisible and all-powerful, watching my every step. Later, as the years passed and the mystical contours of perception grew smudged and displaced by reality, I began to attribute him to my diseased imagination. By then I had already come to grips with the fact that my mental state was, at best, less than sound.

Sometimes, as I followed Kristoff submissively, I would try to muster up the courage to speak. I wanted to know what he was doing to me as I drifted in my dark oblivion. That, and whether it was painful. I wanted to express how terrified I was of him, and to share my nightmares, in which he had always been the main--and sole--protagonist. I wanted to get through to him--someway, somehow! Even if I didn't know why...

But the moment my eyes fell upon his face, cold as eternal ice, while his own bored deeper into me than any human being's ever could, my resolve invariably dissipated into thin air.

And, resigned, I would follow him yet again...

All in all, my childhood was a strange one indeed.

** ** **

On my fifteenth birthday, there was a celebration--a first for my family. Being young and naive, rather than stop and ponder what had changed, why my distant (at best!) parents had suddenly decided to show affection, I was genuinely overjoyed at the news. Bursting with excitement, I darted from room to room, observing the preparations.

And it truly was a celebration--a notion of which I knew little, and a state of which I knew even less. I invited everybody I could think of, including some who should never be invited: friends, girlfriends, acquaintances and near-strangers, haters, rivals, gossips... Everybody!

Come evening, the house was packed with people. But my parents, along with my brother and sister, had left. Even if such a turn of events came as a shock to some guests, for me, so thoroughly accustomed to indifference, whether demonstrative or casual, it caused no discomfort at all. Having already tasted hatred, I countered this, yet another slight, with a bitter grin and a vow that nothing--nothing at all!--would ruin my birthday celebration.

And it was glorious!

We partied it up like there was no tomorrow. We bawled songs, competing in volume, danced in all the rooms, on all the tables and balconies. We flung open all the windows, inviting the stuffy night to partake in the festivities... Like proper safecrackers, we forced the bar's intricate lock, adding a special "spirit" to the revelry. Empty wine bottles were subsequently turned into fine bowling pins--indeed, nothing was wasted!

The staff groused under their breath about the spoiled and gilded youth, but even their grumblings were interspersed with good-natured smiles. For the first time in my life, I was truly happy!

And then, as you must have guessed, he showed up.

My friends were clueless as to why my face became that of a ghost, since none of them had heard the sound of the arriving car. None but I, who had been listening out for him since early childhood.

Suddenly I was being soothed and questioned, but it was all so very unimportant, so unnecessary...

All I could do was whisper to myself with bitter irony, shaking my head with tipsy disbelief, "I forgot... For the first time in my life, I forgot!"

He walked into the house, his step sure and measured, almost solemn, unperturbed by neither the crowd of plastered underagers, nor my face, devoid of color.

"Kristoff... please, I'm begging you... not today!" I said and stilled myself, shocked at my own courage. Had I really just spoken to him--to my nightmare incarnate?

But he just stood there silently, eyeing me with the same detached indifference as the other partiers.

Seconds stacked into minutes, but there came no sign that he had even heard my words. Just the same, his eyes shone with blank refusal. And at that moment, perhaps due to the alcohol undermining the already fragile foundation of my composure, or, equally likely, because the pain of all those years, finally released, landed upon my shoulders in a burden too heavy to bear, I felt the pangs of self-pity--the lowest sensation of all.

Forgetting about everything and everyone, my bottomless lake of tears overflowed, leaving only a fifteen-year-old girl in a fit of hysteria.

I begged him to come back the next day, to not ruin the first and only holiday I've ever known! I wept bitter tears and nearly groveled at his feet! I begged him to go--not only for today, but never to come back--to leave me alone and let me live my life, difficult as it was even without him!

But for all my ravings, his eyes remained blank.

And then there came another first: a crack in the hitherto unbroken wall of my fear. Tiny at first, the gap widened rapidly into a chasm, letting loose a torrent of fury. In the bedlam that ensued, all manner of things were shattered into a myriad fragments, spraying at my face, the floor, my beautiful dress... I raged and rambled, cursed and begged, prayed and pleaded.

In the end, seeing not even a hint of mercy in his lifeless eyes, I fell silent. And then I heard his voice, clearly for probably the first time in all those years, being in a state of lucidity, and not entranced by either his sorcery or my own frailty.

"Impossible."

And with that simple word, he shattered whatever remnants of childhood I had left.

And I submitted. Without another word, without any explanation for my friends, dumbfounded at the scene unfolding before them, I followed him, hoping in the fringes of my consciousness that they would attribute my behavior to my inebriated state.

 

** ** **

It was late morning when I woke.

It was Monday, but, strangely enough, nobody seemed to care that I wasn't in the lyceum. I looked for signs of life, but found none: neither my family nor any servants were in sight. The house was entirely empty and eerily, serenely silent.

The serenity of my surroundings matched that of my inner state.

One would think that last night's events would result in severe emotional trauma and an ocean of tears, and yet I felt totally at peace. But there was something else to it. My serenity seemed somehow artificial, like the feeling of numbness after anesthesia... After an amputation.

And indeed, that was exactly what had happened the night before. The last shreds of childish naivety, the hopes that my tears might compel him to relent, show mercy and let me go, had been amputated from me.

I had my final answer: impossible.

 

I spent the whole day with my thoughts, losing the sensation of time. It seemed as if mere moments had gone by, but the skies outside were already thickening with coffee-colored dusk. Nearly eight hours had passed into nothingness...

I was roused with a touch.

"Wake up, Diana, you've got guests."

Casting a murky gaze over the crowd surrounding my bed, I was at first stupefied. Willing clarity into my foggy mind, I focused and realized that the "crowd" consisted of four of my girlfriends. I even managed a smile, which was quite the feat under the circumstances.

"She's finally up. Sleepyhead!"

"You left so early last night... Come on, we want details!"

After a day filled with silence, the loud noises dazed me.

"W-what?" I stared back at my girlfriends from my distant, terrifying world, wondering in my stupor as to what they wanted from me.

Totally ignoring my condition, yesterday's guests assailed me with questions, shouting over one another.

"Who is he? How did you meet? Why didn't you say anything to us before?"

Their shrill voices pitched with excited curiosity, their eyes shone green with envy.

Everything inside me shuddered. You fools! He's dangerous! He's death itself. How could you not see that?!

"I knew one of you would try to snatch him from me," I grinned and struggled into a seating position. My headache was unbearable, but I forced another smile.

"And for good reason!" one of my girlfriends brusquely interjected, swooning, then added with a moan, "He's so... soooo dreamy!"

"Oh, you have no idea," I muttered grimly, struggling to comprehend how anybody could see beauty in that monster, human-like as he may have been. The very thought of it chilled my insides, and I hurried to nip the notion in the bud: "I'm joking! He's not my boyfriend at all! In fact, I can't stand to look at him. Kristoff is just..." I stumbled at the shocking realization that, even after all these years, I still didn't know who he was. "An acquaintance of my parents..." I concluded the thought after a long pause.

Oh, how I wished it really were that simple.

"Kristoff? That's his name?" asked Daria, rejoicing in her naivety at this minimal piece of information. Her pretty doll's face took on an infatuated expression, as she purred: "How unusual!"

"Unusual, sure," I agreed automatically, started by her dreamy gaze--the girl was staring out the window, far away from her present surroundings. But I had no idea just how unusual the creature behind the name really was.

And what that would eventually mean for Daria.

 

** ** **

After that, they kept talking about him for a month, asking questions, pouting, begging to meet him. I just laughed them off, kept quiet or tried to channel the conversation elsewhere and protect them at all costs.

It was uncanny that someone they had only met once, and under the most discouraging of circumstances, could pique their interest so much. Chances are, deep down inside I did in fact understand how he could pull it all off... but I was afraid to admit it even to myself.

But no matter how much I wanted everyone to forget about him, or what I would be willing to give up for a single day without thinking about him, Kristoff once again steam-rolled over my life as he saw fit.

... I was already in the lobby. Classes were over, and little by little the rambunctious crowd was spilling out of the lyceum. Waiting for the congestion at the door to ease, I stepped aside, to the window, and my bored look immediately fell upon the familiar figure towering above everyone else.

Despite being his usual cold, withdrawn, almost blood-chilling self, he basked in the aura of curiosity projected by others around him. Mesmerized, all our girls froze in place looking at him--some out of the corners of their eyes, some furtively, some head-on, their mouths agape. Their eyes shone with neon lights of pure admiration: oh-so-handsome! He was so unbelievably handsome!

He was looking directly at me. Despite the distance that separated us, with each step I could feel his slightly hunched body get closer, his piercing eyes habitually roaming inside my very soul.

Caught unawares, I froze, trying to bring together the two incompatible worlds: the small, dark domain of my room where he reigned supreme and the universe outside that was huge and full of light. My safe haven that was off limits for him--or at least I was almost sure it was, until now.

My blood ran cold. Here? Now?

Feeling numb all over, I came out of the lyceum door and headed towards Kristoff.

Intensely, unblinkingly even, it seemed, he was watching me come closer. The car he was nonchalantly leaning on was screamingly yellow. That color was so much at odds with Kristoff's refined, exquisite, and at the same time repugnant appearance that, strangely enough, it helped me summon enough courage for an attack.

"What are you doing here?" Despite being totally mortified of him, I once again felt furious. Wasn't I ever going to find a quiet corner where I could spend some time without being reminded of my tormentor? Was I now to expect bumping into him anytime, anywhere?

He barely moved, ignoring my anger. He looked down at me, then at the lyceum building.

"What are you doing here?" I drawled through my teeth, this time at a lower tone of voice and fully aware that we were attracting too much attention as it is.

"Waiting," he finally deigned me with an answer, totally unperturbed. "Just waiting."

"I forbid you to wait, Kristoff!" I said, amazed by my own resolve. "Not here, not so close to me!"

In one lightning-fast, imperceptible motion he leaned down to me, and I recoiled, terrified, expecting to be punished for my insolent talk. But then the threat in his eyes was replaced with fairly human mockery, and for the first time I could discern the color of his eyes--an unusual shifty green that got darker or lighter as his mood changed.

"You cannot forbid me anything," Kristoff droned evenly, as if it mattered none to him one way or the other. And then the threat was back on. "You'd better remember that!"

Desperately fighting the urge to flee, I asked, haughtily:

"Is that a threat?"

The corners of his lips moved, as if glad I had asked.

"It's a fact."

He threw another gaze at the lyceum, and I followed it to see Daria flying out the door--for indeed, you couldn't call her fluttering gallop anything else. As she noticed me, next to Kristoff, for a moment her pretty face grimaced with annoyance, but then it was all gone, once she processed my knit brows, my lip, bit in anger, and my clenched fists.

"Hello, Kristoff," she sang.

He smiled back, a tad artificially, but then he wasn't much of a smiling type. At least, I had never seem him smile before.

"Do you know him?" Eager to hurt Kristoff in whatever small way possible, I made a point of speaking of him as if he was not even there.

"We've met," Daria gave him a sly look, apparently proud of that blood-chilling circumstance.

Kristoff hardly turned his head to respond. It seemed I had his undivided attention, like something mounted on a slide under a powerful microscope.

So what was his angle here?

My gut was telling me he had one all right.

"So, are we going or what?" Daria asked, anxiously, as if she now realized we were looking at each other too long and too hard. And, well, maybe we were.

"Yes, let's go." His eyes finally let me go.

As if in slow motion, I saw him put his arm around Daria's waist. My every hair stood on end when I imagined his touch. How come she wasn't disgusted?

"Diana, you want a lift?"

Did I really just hear that? Never before had he used my first name, always the formal Ms. Snowe. Maybe that's why it had such a strange sound to it. And the question itself... and that entire situation... all of it.

Daria didn't seem too happy.

I watched her smile die. Next to the huge, inhumanly cold Kristoff, her slender figure seemed lost, overshadowed, gone to pieces. Suddenly, I felt afraid--for Daria.

Before I could say no, I rushed to accept.

"That would be great! Let me just call home and send my own car back." My numb, unwilling lips barely moved.

As I expected, Kristoff got behind the wheel and Daria plopped herself down onto the front seat next to him. From my vantage point in the back, I was watching her stroke his hair, quite territorially, as he suffered through it all the way down. Yes, suffered.

He drove up right to her front door, totally unconcerned that her family might see him. Getting out of the car, he opened the door for her and helped her out, his gestures much rehearsed and mechanical. Daria blushed back and got off her seat...

And then he kissed her, unexpectedly for Daria and even more so for myself.

And oh, did he work hard on it!

Making himself comfortable, he swung her around so that I could see every detail of him taking over her mouth and groping all over her body--unhurriedly, unashamedly... That kiss belonged in a locked room, not in the middle of the street. Not so close to me, either.

All of a sudden, I felt his hands on my own body, his lips on my lips...

I became dizzy, my eyes got all blurry. I began breathing rapidly to hold on to reality. Luckily, when my world faltered the kissing couple disappeared from my field of vision, and that happened to be the best cure.

Why so much demonstrative passion? Why?

It's not like he was in love with her.

He cannot be in love! Not with anyone. Never. He is... a monster! I knew it better than anyone.

Finally, Kristoff tore himself off of her and came back to the car, looking as morose as ever, as if it was not even him who had just left Daria all breathless, her cheeks blushing with crimson. Still high from that unexpected kiss, she stumbled towards her house...

My teeth clenched, full of resolve, I moved to the front seat uninvited and looked him in the eye. Without turning his gaze away, he turned the ignition key, and the engine roared to life.

"What did you do that for?"

As the car turned onto the main road and began picking up speed, he finally deigned me with an answer.

"Do what?"

"Oh, please, do you think everyone around is stupid or something?" Having entered the tiger cage, I was amazed at my own brazen audacity. "When she was touching you, you were ready to kill her! I could tell by your eyes."

"I never knew you could read my eyes so well," said Kristoff gloomily.

"I had enough practice to..." I snapped, before his gaze made me stop in my tracks. A new suffocating wave of fear for Daria enveloped me, but I willed it away and spoke to him again, albeit taking my bravado down a notch.

"Why can't you... find someone else? Someone mature, fully grown, someone to fit your status?" I wished I could believe that was his only interest!

"And what status is that?" he shot back, undisguised mockery in his voice.

All of a sudden, I felt mortally tired, and it was beyond any hope. If he had been able to control my own life for so many years, disregarding my family, flaunting the law, denying all common sense, then what made me think I could somehow protect Daria?

"Take me home, Kristoff! I don't feel like seeing you more than twice a year. I want to be able to continue believing that when you take your leave of me you vanish into the air, cease existing...

... and die."

Except, of course, I never said that last part of it out loud.

"I hope you realize you are making no sense."

We drove up to my house and he pushed the button to open the door for me. Apparently, I was not worthy of his gallantry. Unlike Daria.

Contentedly, he flung after me:

"I am just as real as everyone else! Even more real!"

Which was absolutely true.

In a week, Daria announced she was leaving soon to continue her studies abroad. But not even her excessively happy babbling could conceal something in her eyes that only I could understand: fear.

I knew my gut feeling was right when once, stepping out of the school building, I noticed the familiar toxic-yellow car outside. Daria was just about to shut the door closed behind her. She then willingly... no, obediently, turned to Kristoff, and he put his arm around her in one fluid, habitual move. Like he owned her. Without even looking at her lifeless, pale face...

The following day, I caught her at the locker room and asked her bluntly about the reasons behind her departure.

For a long time, she just looked right through me into the void beyond, absorbed in her own thoughts that seemed to be miles away from reality. I knew then she was not going to tell me. Still stupefied, she sleepwalked towards the door but then, with apparent effort, made herself turn around.

"Beware of him, Diana. He is dangerous."

"I know, Daria! That's what I was trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen!"

My fervor did little to revive her, not even for a moment.

She held the door, gathering her strength. It seemed her every movement required a special effort--that's how sluggish and tired she was.

"Yes, I understand it now. Yet he looked so perfect... at first... We met on the street. He offered to give me a lift, and gave me this bouquet... red roses."

"And you said yes!" Of course, she wasn't the first, nor the last gullible fool in this world, yet I could not but feel that I was somehow responsible for dragging my monster into her life.

"I can't explain it... But I just couldn't say no to him! At first I even thought that I was in love with him. Except that... he is so alien, Diana. I don't think..." Daria's voice, low as it was, almost waned altogether. "I don't think he is capable of love at all."

Somehow realizing subconsciously that I was not going to get another chance to ask, I drew closer and whispered the question that tormented me so much:

"Daria, what did he do to you? Why are you so scared?"

Paler than ever, she rushed from the locker room, knocking someone down on her way out.

The following day, she never showed up at the lyceum even though she did not have to leave for another two weeks. I never saw my friend again, my beautiful, naive Daria. But of all the others, I would remember her forever.

 

** ** **

Year after year, as my wretched life unfurled further, I kept asking myself more and more questions. Even as a child, I realized nothing of the kind was happening to anyone else I knew. It was my very own dirty little secret.

What was wrong with me? What was it I could possibly do in my childhood to deserve having to suffer this kind of abuse for so many years? Or maybe it even happened earlier, when I was an infant, for indeed Kristoff had always been a part of my life, for as long as I could remember. That very idea was ridiculous! And why was it that any time I tried talking about it they punished me so severely?

As I grew older, every new day wore my patience thinner, and my meekness drowned in hatred directed at everyone around me.

"Why do you let him treat me so?" I once asked my mother, angrily, without even knowing what it actually was that Kristoff was doing to me. All I knew was that every time he came over I would then feel like I was dying from the inside.

"It's none of your business," my mother told me evenly, albeit somewhat tersely--my own mother who was so nice to others but hardly ever smiled at me in my entire life. It was unbelievable!

"None of my business? Are you out of your mind, mother?" I was shaking badly. "It's me we are talking about here! Me! It is my business. No one else is going to solve my problems. You don't give a damn about me, and neither does father. It's like I don't even exist for you. It's like I am not even there. But I am! Why wouldn't you understand that all I want is..." Still, words escaped me, the right words I needed to explain it to the person nearest to me how close to hatred I was. How I hated her already for her indifference, for the empty, cold verbiage!

I was still very weak after the day before (Kristoff came over again). Rather than spell relief, every new breath made my suffering worse, and soon I simply slid down along the wall and broke into tears.

For a moment, it seemed that my mother's hands reached out to me, ready to soothe and to comfort, but then she left abruptly, leaving me to heave in agony all by myself.

 

It was becoming progressively more difficult for me to continue living at home. And what kind of home was it anyway? A heartwarming place full of light and love? Yeah, right! Those people, they were not my family at all.

Anything would be better than being with them!

I was always on the lookout for an excuse to escape from home. I would hang on to any ragtag party that stayed up into the wee hours. Or I could simply walk the streets until dawn.

Quite a few of those adventures could have well become my last since I often went places--all kinds of crazy places--at night, being under the influence. It's remarkable I didn't pay a higher price for being so reckless.

Naturally, that kind of lifestyle couldn't but have an impact. My grades suffered badly. Taking after my new "friends," I got a taste of hard liquor and started smoking--and not just regular cigarettes. At the age of seventeen, I had my first intimate encounter--not quite being sober and not quite willingly. It felt horrible! Yet, even then, wiping my hopeless tears, I knew that some things in my life were still worse.

Of course, at home they tried to talk some sense into me, but what could they possibly do?

Yell? I was well used to yelling and isolation. Throw me out of the house? Well, I hardly lived there as it was. Beat me up? I have known so much pain that they would have had to kill me to make it count.

Quite likely, the only thing that could really scare me would be Kristoff coming three times a year rather than two.

The feeling that I was constantly being watched never left me. Moreover, it would only grow stronger, becoming a meddlesome itch in the back of my head.

Soon, I would have proof I was not making it up.

 

** ** **

Then came the moment that everyone entering adult life anxiously awaits: the prom.

I was so eager to believe that much like my friends and other regular folks, I would feel happy on that day!

Valérian, the guy I had just begun dating, couldn't wait to spend the night with me after the prom. And I was fairly amenable. I desperately needed to have someone by my side who, if not altogether smitten by me, would at the very least not be totally indifferent.

All night long, I had waited for my family to show up.

If only for one minute, for one little smile! I could expect that much on that day, couldn't I?

Eyes roaming around the spacious hall of our ritzy school, I could not understand--or, perhaps, understood all too well--why I felt so bitter.

"Looking forward to tonight?" Valérian whispered into my ear, drawing me closer. He kept talking, snickering, but I paid him no heed, searching the crowd of smartly dressed seniors and their proud and happy parents for a single familiar face.

And then I found one.

From a distant corner, hidden from stray looks, Kristoff was watching me.

Sudden fear lit me up from the inside. In an instant, colors became neon-bright and sounds ear-piercing, as if someone switched the world to a different wavelength. At that moment, I could clearly hear all the raunchy claptrap my cocksure beau was whispering into my ear. A crooked smirk on Kristoff's face made it clear to me that he could hear it all too.

Blushing with shame all over, I writhed myself out of Valérian's arms.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I muttered under my breath. "I have a headache."

"Oh, I know a great remedy for that," he grinned, thinking I was just playing hard to get.

"So do I," I snapped. "Have a good night's sleep. Preferably alone."

Valérian grunted. He did not like my remedy at all.

Turning away, I dialed my mother and asked her where she was. A sleepy voice started explaining that Natalie's husband had just been promoted, and they were all celebrating together. That was obviously yet another lie.

"So who am I then, if not family? Huh, mother?" But she had already hung up on me. "You won't even notice if I disappear..."

Abandoning my purse, indifferent to all the wry glances cast my way, I rushed outside, onto the street.

It was warm, as it should have been in late May, but I was shivering, and my fine silk dress mimicked the shaking. The nervous click of my heels on the pavement pulsed in my temples.

"Wait!" I heard Valérian yell from behind. "Diana, wait!"

He came closer, holding my purse out to me. The look in his eyes told me he was thinking I had blown a gasket.

Did I still have all my wits about me? Probably not. The inexorable swings of emotion inside of me were taking their toll, and I found it progressively more difficult to stay clear of that merciless pendulum. Clear and still standing...

Suddenly, I knew I wanted to be kissed. Kissed with a fiery passion so as to make me forget about it all and live in the moment. Yes, live!

Just a few steps separated the two of us, and soon our lips became one. But alas, the kiss tasted sour, and about as satisfying as my entire wretched life.

Somewhat off-key, I thought of how romantic it must have all looked from the side: a tall, handsome guy in a suite and a girl in a light pink dress clinging to him, the two of them kissing in the surrounding darkness with total abandon, oblivious to the world outside...

Could it really be that everything around was not the way it seemed?

I tried to push Valérian away, but his hands on my waist only strengthened their grip.

"I told you no!" Forcefully, I shoved him away and broke into a run. At first, he took after me but got tired of it soon enough. Instead, he figured he'd get even for his supposedly ruined night:

"You are still a doormat!" he yelled. "A whore, that's what you are!"

The insult lashed me like a whip.

I jumped into my car and turned the ignition key before I could realize what I was doing. I needed to get out of there, break free of that morass! The nearby forest, our favorite picnic place, now beckoned, so peaceful and quiet...

I had only been driving for a few months, and was still very much unsure of myself behind the wheel. Still, today it mattered none as buildings, people and trees rushed past me at an ever greater rate of speed.

By all counts, I should have crashed, but should I have been glad that I didn't?

It was getting dark. Abandoning my car by the edge of the forest, I rushed in, stumbling over gnarly roots, prickly branches clawing at my hair and my dress... Finally, I reached the spot my friends and I often went to, away from curious eyes, and gave way to tears.

Why? Why was it that I had been living like a ghost since my very birth? Everything around was real, but I couldn't touch anything! It's not like I wanted too much, was it? Just a regular life, is all. So what was the problem?

And so I wept, sobbing uncontrollably, but the relief I craved wouldn't come. My torments must have really clawed hard at me. Still, as time went by, tears and anger finally took a step back, replaced by much-needed peace. As it always did.

Then, freezing momentarily, my eyes fixed on some distant point, I suddenly remembered Kristoff and with horrifying clarity saw myself following him to my room till the end of time, falling into a bottomless abyss of oblivion and then swimming back up through wave after wave of exhausting, nauseating pain.

No! Never!

Down there, under the cliffs, a river was flowing, invisible in the dark. Girls that drowned young, they said, became forest nymphs and left their vain human worries firmly behind. That was some future all right! Could anything in my dysfunctional world be any better?

Serene and confident, I took a step toward the precipice.

"Don't even think about it!"

The voice caught me unawares. I never expected to hear him again. I almost forgot it even existed. My life and everything in it was over.

But quite unexpectedly to myself, I recovered quickly.

"Tell me who you are, and I will turn around," I said, taking another small step to the brink. "This way you won't even have to foul up your expensive shoes."

"Why are you so sure I'll want to save you?" All scorn, Kristoff was looking at me--disheveled and tear-streaked as I was.

I rejoiced at the thought that he'd try to save me... and come short!

"You have been my worst nightmare for eighteen years. You show up unexpectedly, and I am always fearful, waiting. When you come, I feel terrified beyond any belief." Amazingly, I was not afraid now--well, almost. I was glad to finally have a chance to dump it all on him. "I cannot, I will not live like this any longer, existing in constant fear of a man I know nothing about to enter my home, my room, and--"

As I spoke, I drew closer and closer to the edge of the cliff while he remained immobile and ever more distant. Looking at his tall silhouette, standing pat in the dusk, I felt strangely calm: now that my foot was about to step over the threshold, he wouldn't be able to stop me for sure.

"Then do it," Kristoff said, nonchalantly. "Go ahead, jump!"

"And you won't stop me?" His contradicting words left me befuddled.

"Sure I will." He was not making any sense at all!

"You won't catch me in time!" I was almost jubilant, if there could be any such thing on the brink of death.

"Don't you get it? I always get what I want," he suddenly growled. "And what I want now is for you to live. Which means you will live! But I am still curious..." The tone of his voice changed, now dripping sarcasm, "if you'll actually jump, realizing that in a split second oxygen will stop flowing into your lungs, and it'll hurt like hell, and you'll want to take a breath, and there will only be water around... Or is this all just talk?"

"Hurt?" I muttered angrily. "Tell me something new." And then I took that last step.

And almost made it.

 

** ** **

"My stupid girlfriends think you are soooo handsome! Can you believe it? You are just about as handsome as a monster in one's worst nightmare. I was always afraid of your indifference. And your large eyes, all dead and empty. You project fear. But you know, the worst of it is realizing it's my own fear."

Unperturbed, having slung me casually over his shoulder, Kristoff was carrying me through the woods. What had transpired on that stressful day took its toll, and words poured out of me in one endless, uncontrollable stream.

Oh, the things I told him! Only the day before, the very idea of speaking my mind freely and out loud would have caused me a panic attack. But now I talked, and talked, pouring out whatever my feverish brain came up with, and there was no stopping me.

"Or maybe you simply enjoy it that I am so scared of you. All right, I get it. That's how you get your kicks! Naturally, you have to have your own little frailties. You are human... well, almost... so it's not like you don't have any feelings at all. Then again... Do you remember that party, when I turned fifteen? If you only knew how many days after that I was recoiling from every shadow! I imagined you everywhere... Ugh, you are such a jerk! You have been there all along, haven't you?"

Suddenly, he threw me on the cold, wet ground, with nary a try to soften the blow.

There's your bruise the size of a thigh, a distant thought flashed in my mind.

My beautiful chic dress was now but a distant memory. A horrible memory...

Suddenly, all of this seemed truly hilarious, and I shook in a bout of insane laughter, which then gradually progressed to shivering.

Well, I thought, if I didn't manage to die, then I guess I'll have to live a while.

The chill of the night made me cringe. I wished I were in bed, under a cozy warm blanket...

"I am tired!" My hoarse voice had a tinge of impending cold in it. "Do what you want but take me home."

Kristoff chuckled and bent himself close to my face.

"It's still too early."

"Early for what?"

"Too early to do what I want."

When it finally dawned on me what his very tone and look were driving at, I only sighed and shook my head. I should have been sick to my stomach, but at that point I was probably beyond the point where anything at all could shock my sensibilities, and no longer capable of natural reactions.

"If only you knew how sick and tired I am of you... You want to appear smart, but in truth you cannot even find a good excuse to remove your sorry self from my life." Uneasily, I got up from the ground. "Take me home! I am cold and I want to go to bed. Now!"

It took me quite an effort not to put my foot down.

"Is that an order?" Kristoff's voice was full of ironic bewilderment.

"Oh, please! Who am I to give you orders?"

He cut me short.

"You got that right. You are nothing!"

There was so much conviction in his voice that I felt a myriad of icy needles prickle my skin, and for a moment the realization of my total insignificance next to this man hit me hard. It was him who decided whether I lived or died, and what kind of life it would be, were I to live. He was indeed the master of my fate.

But I shook that phantasm off and snapped angrily:

"Well, maybe I am nothing, but then... What are you fussing about so? You follow me, you are always somewhere near, and now you've just saved my life. Oh, by the way! I never thanked you for that. Thank you so friggin' much, kind Sir!" I bowed in jest, but then came back upright again and almost spit it into his face: "Whoever I am, I must be pretty important to you, Kristoff! I figured that much long ago!"

He clenched his fists, and for a moment I thought the monster was going to hit me.

But he only ground his teeth.

"Soon enough, Ms. Snowe, you'll have as many rights left as a stray dog. My family will take over soon! You'll be washing their floors, and polishing their silver--that'll give you something to do! I won't have to fuss over you like you were more than just a mere human. Then, finally, I will no longer have to shadow your every move... and I'll be rid of you altogether!"

There was an odd tinge of gloom in Kristoff's words, yet he spoke so vehemently that I figured he might actually be serious.

But at that point focusing on anything for long became a struggle, since I was standing on my feet. So I decided to agree with everything, as long as my compliance brought me closer to bed.

"Great, can't wait for that. But for now, why don't you take me home? Please..." With that last word, my eyes blinked shut all by themselves.

Once we got into the car, I fell asleep.

That was the end of my prom night, which, for any regular girl, should have been one of the happiest events ever.

In the morning, I woke up in my bed and spent quite some time trying to put together snippets of memories from the night before. Still, I could never determine who it was that brought me up to my bedroom and took off my clothes... and whether the person that remained by my bedside till dawn was real or a mere dream.

 

** ** **

Barely out of school, I demanded that my rather well-off parents set me up in a separate apartment. Seeing that they hardly ever played any role in my life, I did not expect my moving out to be a problem. On the contrary, I figured they'd spring at the chance to get rid of their unwanted and now unruly daughter.

But to my great surprise, both my father and my mother insisted that I stay no matter what. I was astonished and irritated at the same time. It was a little too late for them to care! By that time I couldn't care less what they thought, so one way or another I wasn't staying.

But as it turned out, it was not just my family that was against the move.

 

He burst into my room, seething with anger--nothing like his regular composed, indifferent self. Startled by the mask of true inhumanity on his face, I backed away to the wall.

"Packing?" Kristoff was uncharacteristically courteous.

"See for yourself." I swallowed loudly, my back pressing still harder against the wall. I was trembling inside.

Finally, he noticed my uncomfortable pose and cackled sarcastically:

"Well, well, well, you are scared of me, aren't you?"

"What makes you think so?" Overcoming my terror, I stepped away from the wall.

He moved closer. Everything inside of me was screaming that I should step back, and it took me an unimaginable amount of willpower to remain in control of my body. He took another step forward. I was barely breathing. Another... and then he was right next to me, and his hand, in one imperceptible sweep, touched my neck.

A grimace of disgust distorted Kristoff's lips.

"You wouldn't believe how sick and tired of you I am after these eighteen years!"

"Oh, I am soooo sorry I am such a bastard!" All the anger that had accumulated inside of me over the previous few days went into that single outburst. "Just one question though: who asked you to... to..." The right word wasn't easy to find. "... take care of me? It's not that I asked you to!"

"If only you knew how many times I saved your life, you'd bite your tongue, foolish girl!"

"Saved, my butt! How about Valérian, my boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend, that is. Was he a danger to me, too? If I am not mistaken, he is in intensive care now after someone assaulted him at night in his own room! They are afraid for his sanity, too--since coming to his senses, all he's been talking about is some monster. And the worst of it is that I have a fairly good idea who that monster is!"

I immediately wished I had shown more restraint, since his body suddenly tensed and an evil spark flashed in his eyes. With deliberate calm, he picked up a box with my things and looked inside. Then he dropped it and looked back at me.

I did not like his look.

"I am not going to... to be afraid of you, Kristoff!"

He raised his brows in amazement.

"I am not going to apologize either! I am a person like any other, and I can live my life any way I want." I was talking slowly, deliberately, desperately willing it all to be true. "And no one has any right to stand in my way!"

"Is that what you think?"

Turning around sharply, I made a dash for the door, hoping to make it, but it was all for naught. Kristoff blocked my way immediately.

"Let go of me!" The poison of anger was burning in my veins again.

To my surprise, Kristoff was already very calm and relaxed, and his eyes shone with elation. That's what it had to be, considering how long he had had to wait to say what was about to follow.

"You will go in three days. And let me warn you: you are only allowed to take what you absolutely cannot do without." He kicked a small box with his foot. "Put only your bare essentials in here and expect me to come on Tuesday. Think twice before packing any useless junk..."

"Whaat?" I could only squeeze out, dumbfounded.

"No theatrics, all right?" He said, annoyed. "Didn't I tell you this was going to happen?"

Not quite aware of what I was doing, I stepped up to him.

"Tell? All I remember is some mumbling about me losing all of my birthrights, and some vague insinuations--"

"And you didn't believe me, huh?" Kristoff interjected, clearly enjoying himself. "You thought I was joking. Trying to scare you, right?"

"Yes!" I screamed. "Yes, goddamn you, yes!"

He bent his head to the side, inspecting me like he would some goods in a store.

"And now you are really scared," he affirmed.

I was indeed!

"I think it's time you talked to your father. Tell him I ordered him to, and he will tell you everything." Kristoff turned on his heels and walked out the room. Rather pleased with himself.

 

** ** **

I tried to somehow keep myself busy until dinner, yet every few minutes I'd hear the words, "You'll go in three days," and stop in my tracks. I was dropping random things on the floor, and they were now scattered all over, as if blown away by a winter storm.

I just couldn't quite grasp the true meaning of these words.

Kristoff showed up at our place twice a year to do his incomprehensible, ghastly things to me. I would occasionally bump into him outside as well. But what did it actually mean, "You'll go in three days"? Were they really going to send me some place and make me work as a domestic?

I felt sick. Unloved as I was, I still lived in a well-to-do family, surrounded with all kinds of comforts. I was the one who had domestics!

And would Kristoff continue visiting me twice a year in that new place? Would I somehow have to explain his visits to those around me? Still, the main question was why. Why were all these inexplicable horrors happening to me--and not to my sister Natalie or, for that matter, to our neighbor? And why did my parents let it all happen? And why the devil did I have to put up with it all?!!

 

At dinner, everyone kept dead quiet, as if the family were being judged in a courtroom rather than having an evening meal. My relatives barely moved; heck, they barely breathed. The longer I watched them, the more it looked like they were slowly developing a thin frosting of ice all over.

I glanced at my mother, her lips tightly pursed, then at my dad, picking at his food, then at my older sister, and only then at Lydia who wouldn't even grace me with a smile. Her eyes contracted and her lips formed a thin line, which had always been a sign of extreme distress with her.

Finally, when the tension became unbearable, my father ventured a word.

"Did Kristoff come to see you today?" The silence around the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Yes, he did."

More silence. Natalie bent her head slightly, and suddenly I realized she had been aware of my predicament all along.

"But he's already been... to see you twice this year." My father was suddenly very interested in his food. All his attempts at a nonchalant tone failed.

"That's right."

"So what did he want?"

I looked into his eyes. They were the same dark eyes of the Snowe family that I had as well. Over the years, I had seen my father indifferent, angry, annoyed, but never afraid. Until tonight.

"He said I have to leave with him Tuesday."

My mother's hand shook, and she spilled her wine on the pretty tablecloth.

"Oh, my! So soon?" she exclaimed, but then realized her mistake and brought her hands to her face, as if to erase all signs of her outburst.

"It's time you guys explained yourselves," I smiled, scaring everyone around the table silly. "He told me you'll tell me the truth today. He ordered you to," I articulated slowly. "So go ahead, explain it to me why I've had this strange man barging into my room, and why he never gets older, and why I now have to go with him someplace while you are just standing by, watching."

And they told me.

 

** ** **

He showed up at our house a month after I was born.

My father, pale as death and portraying nothing of his usual calm and confidence, called my mother, my aunt and his brother. Looking down, his voice breaking, he told them that he was expecting a visitor, and they'd all have to be present during that meeting.

Terrified, all four of them watched an old man walk into the living room. He made a very strange impression: pale, bluish skin, thin, long villainy fingers, and well-coiffed gray hair. He would have looked in his element wearing a business suit rather than the rags he had on. The old man looked tired and weak, but my family quickly surmised that it was all a disguise, and that the man could in fact easily destroy everyone in the house many times over.

Truth be told, that was exactly what my father was so afraid of. Years back, during his hungry and penniless youth, Jacob Snowe chanced upon a strange old man with eyes of a predator that would do credit to a younger, more vigorous individual. The man who was filthy rich but had just as many "quirks" as he had dollars offered my father a deal that would doom me to a life of misery. The stranger promised his young vis-à-vis to see to all his material needs but asked for his most precious possession in exchange--his future child. If the youngster was to have more than one, the man would take his pick.

My young father had the misfortune of saying yes, out of sheer stupidity. Really, could he possibly be so indifferent to his future child, still unconceived and unborn? It's not like he could already hate me, right? So, yes, he must have been simply stupid. At least, that's what I wanted to believe.

There was no doubt in his mind that his "benefactor" would deliver because he could see how powerful the man was. Nor was he naive enough not to believe he'd have to pay. Still, back at the time of his youth the price did not strike him as excessive. After all, he was so eager to enjoy everything life had to offer, right there and then.

It was only much later that my father realized the true gravity of what he had done.

Expecting his first child, my older sister Natalie, he was worried sick... But the old man never showed up.

Two years later, when Paul was born, all life went out of him, but the blood-chilling visitor didn't come for the boy either.

His worst nightmares only came true when I was born.

The first time he saw my tiny self in my crib, my father felt time had finally come to pay his debt. Realizing he could not put it off any longer, he told my mother everything. But no matter how horrified she was by her baby's impending fate, no matter how furious her husband's shortsighted and heartless deed made her, nothing could change that bleak future. They had no choice. They had no one to help them. They had to pay since nothing would save them from the fury of such a powerful creature, and what was at stake now was not just their own lives, but those of my brother and sister as well.

And then he did come, Mr. Inevitable.

Jacob had not seen his creditor for twenty long years, but the man hadn't changed one bit. Just as old--or as young--as before, the signature piercing look in his black, bottomless eyes, his resolute jaw just as firm, the man moved with the ease and grace of a young athlete.

His name was Jenob, and he took his time watching the Snowe family while I slept in my crib, unaware of the trials and tribulations fate had in store for me.

"Speak," he said casually, looking at my poor beautiful mother, her face streaked with mascara and tears that told the tale of sleepless nights. "I'll listen to you first and then get down to business. Go ahead, speak..."

"It's no use," my father mumbled hopelessly. "Your are going to take her either way."

My mother gave a lone sob, but then shriveled under the man's contemptuous, scornful look and froze, becoming one with the couch.

"I just want to know what this is all for. I am fully aware of... your kind's nasty ways," my father spoke up, cracking under pressure.

"There's no need to be rude," Jenob said calmly. "Trust me, this is your one and only warning. As to our ways... Folks whose ways they are rule the world. Who better than you to know that, huh? How else would that dirt poor student, Jacob Snowe, acquire these luxurious digs and get to have this good life?" Suddenly, he dropped all pretense at civility and growled: "Or did you forget how humble you felt entering my home? How you couldn't believe there was such a thing as uniformed servants? How you were afraid of getting into the car that cost more than everything your own family had ever owned?"

Jenob walked around the room with confidence, as if he visited every day and knew where everything was. He opened the bar and pulled out a bottle of wine and some glasses. He poured himself a glass, but was in no particular hurry to drink it.

"The thing is, these days it is very difficult to obtain sustenance, and even we need to take certain precautions." He paused and looked at his drink with disgust. "It so happened that my daughter--"

"You have a daughter?" my mother exclaimed.

"Yes, and she is very sick. Been sick a long time. Longer than you could even imagine."

As he looked at my family, Jenob was probably wondering why he was telling them all that. Still, he kept going, seeing that in spite of their desperate circumstances they were eager to learn more of his personal story--the story of one of the most ancient creatures on Earth.

"Many years ago, I learned that some people have blood of a slightly different composition. It looks the same, but for us it is valuable medicine. You, Jacob, are only a carrier of the gene responsible for such a peculiarity, and I have waited for a long time for you to have a child whose blood would have what I am looking for."

"And what is to become of my daughter, then?" my father asked, his voice trembling. "Will she survive after... after you use her?"

Jenob shook his head. "I don't know, and honestly, I don't care one way or the other. You should have known what you were getting yourself into. It is too late now."

"I didn't--"

"Enough!" the old man roared, suddenly furious. He was tired of waiting, tired of his wasteful anger and contempt of Jacob Snowe--a man who had given up his most valuable possession in exchange for wads of some stupid paper. Worse still, he now had to wait another twenty interminable years until my blood finally came of age and became ready for use.

"I told you I'd take her, and I will! But not yet. When the time comes. If she lives after that, she'll come back, but I wouldn't count on it too much. And if she doesn't..." He made a pause, as if contemplating why he even wasted his breath trying to comfort that dysfunctional family. "Well, you'd still have your beautiful older daughter and son that look just like their mother." He smiled coldly.

But his compliment fell on deaf ears.

"And what are we supposed to do all this time?" my aunt Lydia spoke for the first time. She seemed to be the only one who would at least try to overcome her fear of the monster. "How are we to look the little girl in the eye knowing that she is doomed to have to pay her father's debt?"

"Oh, this is the question you want to ask Jacob. I am sure he had time enough to think it over!" The old man was now laughing openly. "As to the issue of what to do... feed her well, keep her healthy and make sure she gets plenty of sleep. The rest makes no difference, not for me anyway."

Jenob put down the glass of wine he never even touched and turned to go. Then, as if remembering something, he added:

"My son will visit your daughter twice a year to check her blood for ripeness. When he comes, leave the girl alone with him for an hour and don't ever ask her what happened to her during that time. If she tries to tell you herself, cut her short. Got it?"

That was how I became somewhat of a borrowed thing: uncomfortable to be around and due to be returned when the time came. I was to remain unaware of the horrible fate that awaited me. Still, how could I be expected to be totally clueless when I had him in my life--him, the monster in human guise?

"What does your son look like? How will we know it's him?"

Jenob smiled. It was a stupid question to ask.

"Put it this way... When you see him, you'll want to kneel."

That was no exaggeration, because it was exactly what happened.

 

** ** **

Finally, everything in my world was dotted and every t crossed! I had answers to all the questions that had kept me up at night all those years. Now I knew why my family was so indifferent: they knew someone would come for me one day, and they didn't want to get emotionally attached. That's why no one noticed my tears, that's why no one loved me! Chances are, from those early days they had not even considered me to be their own. They treated me like a payment. It was easier that way.

Now I understood that frequent look of hatred in their eyes: I was always there, always reminding them of their sin, of their guilty conscience. Their past was just as impossible to change as my future. That was the torment I caused them and that they hated me for. That was why they always yelled at me and punished me for every little misstep.

For their own disgrace! For having sold their very own daughter!

So, in all fairness, I thought, I belonged to Jenob's family from the moment I was born. I was indeed their property. I was nurtured, protected and kept an eye on... the valuable medicine that I was.

Then the final discovery hit me: I was going to die soon! I was going to give all my blood to someone who had waited for it for centuries. She was going to drink me all up to the last drop and get better.

A painful spasm clenched my heart.

All of a sudden, I was swept by a passionate wave, an indomitable will to live. Just a little longer! However much I could still get!

I pushed myself off the table and looked at the faces of the total strangers around it. Eagerly, I searched for signs of repentance, regret or pain, but all I could see was how much they were afraid of their creditors.

Escape! I needed to flee, as far as I could, as soon as possible! Whatever lay in store for me--poverty, hunger, torments--could not possibly be worse than what was bound to happen if I just submitted quietly.

To break free! Apparently, I have never been free to begin with! What could be better than choosing for yourself what kind of life you wanted to live?

Or whether to live at all.

 

** ** **

I always thought time was aplenty. I saw time as an endless ocean stretching before me, disappearing over the distant horizon. I believed it could stretch like a thin rubber band, so you could always draw it out some more... and still more... for as long as you wanted.

But when I sat in my room, listening to the clock tick, I felt for the first time the cold hand of fate cutting my life, my awfully short life, still shorter, snipping off minutes and entire quarters of an hour. Now every moment seemed to matter.

I wanted to live.

I could not understand how it was even possible that I had not been able to figure it all out by myself. Why did I ignore the sense of danger that was always there when Kristoff was around? Everything about him screamed: run! Save yourself, girl! Or was I simply cajoled into complacency by force of habit?

It took me mere seconds to pack a suitcase, but then, in a manically meticulous fashion, I would go over my stuff again and again. Finally, it dawned on me that I couldn't care less if I left something behind.

Time and again, I looked at the clock.

It wasn't time yet. I never imagined before how long an hour could be.

After that fateful dinner, escaping was the only thing I could think about, yet my frenzied mind did not seem to be able to concentrate long enough on any sensible particulars, such as where and how. Luckily, as it happened, someone else had thought about those.

Right after I barged into my room, I heard hurried steps behind. It was Lydia. Slamming the door shut behind, she drew me close and, overcoming her anxiety, began whispering into my ear.

"Here, take this, Diana!" A small package landed in my hand. "These are fake documents, I had them made a while back. There's some money there too, to get you started. A plane will be ready in three hours. Just tell the pilot where you want to go. He's been paid for the longest flight. Keep looking out the window. There will be a car coming to pick you up in an hour. Get down and get in right away. It'll take you to the airport, straight to the plane."

My aunt withdrew herself, took a spasmodic breath and gave me a look full of pain and despair.

"We are never going to see each other again, Diana! My dear girl, you know that I love you..."

I knew all right, but all the same my eyes suddenly welled with tears. No one had ever said those words to me.

"I wish I could do more for you."

"Aunt--"

"Don't talk, there's no time! We shouldn't see each other or talk anymore." She squeezed me in a tight hug that was almost painful. "Farewell, my dear..."

The next moment, she was gone.

So there I was, looking out the window, waiting for that car. I was thinking of Lydia, of how she, having no children of her own, dared to break their unspoken household pact and actually care for me and try to save me. There was, of course, the issue of whether she would have done the same had she had her own children to protect, like my parents did...

Finally, the car was there. It even came a bit early, before that torturously long hour was out. Thankfully.

I grabbed my suitcase and rushed out, throwing a light gray overcoat on my shoulders along the way. Oh, how I hated that coat before! Now it was going to be my favorite--a disguise to make me one with the gray world outside and turn me into a barely noticeable shadow.

Getting into the car parked in front of the house, I did what I didn't think I would. I looked back.

But there was no pain. Indeed, I felt great relief. Thus a gravely ill patient that had been anxiously awaiting a dangerous surgery goes into it feeling almost calm. Change was welcome. Any kind of change.

It might well do me good--forgetting this place, these people and this fear. Find a job, a home, become useful to someone. I might even like the new me, the kind that blushed at every compliment, used no foul language and--wasn't it silly to even hope?--knew firsthand what love was. Who knew, I might be happy yet...

I knew the airstrip was about an hour and a half away--not too far, but not quite a stone's throw either. It was enough time to think of what was important.

Like, for example, life without Kristoff. There was something insane about that very construct. It was like the question of whether there was life after death. Could it even be possible? I couldn't even fathom that there would be days, weeks and months passing by, years even, without me seeing him again. That I... would stop being afraid!

The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that neither having to submit to him, nor even the pain he caused me was in itself as bad as the constant fear that seemed to permeate my very being...

Incidentally, chances were Kristoff never even imagined I could try to flee!

All by themselves, my lips spread into a mischievous grin.

He was so sure of himself and so powerful that he never even bothered posting any guards! Did he simply assume I was shackled, paralyzed by fear? The hell I was! He was not going to see my fear again, ever!

 

Engrossed in thought about these important matters, I paid little attention to the reality of time and place. Then, looking out the window, I saw an endless wall of the forest flying by.

Something wasn't right.

"Isn't it taking us too long?" I asked of the driver, feeling on edge.

"Don't you worry, mademoiselle!" he replied right away. "We just have to turn the corner, and we are there, mademoiselle."

Turn the corner? In a forest? And that melodious "mademoiselle" sounded so out of place… As it from a distant past.

"No!" The scream got stuck in my throat, and my heart rate jumped threefold.

The driver turned around, revealing his intense red eyes and a wild, inhuman grin.

"So you figured it all out, mademoiselle," he sighed. "That's too bad, of course, but what are you going to do..."

He turned away and kept driving as if nothing had happened.

Desperately, my hands were fumbling with the doors, but those were all locked. Anyway, did I expect to survive a jump from the speeding car or be able to lose him in the endless forest at night? It was more like I was hardly capable of any thinking at all at the moment.

"Where are you taking me?" Adrenaline pushed me to do something, even if it was just talking.

"Don't you be afraid, mademoiselle. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Master ordered that you be taken good care of, rather than... well... anyway, nothing bad is going to happen." The driver was so calm and self-assured that had it not been for his face and that "mademoiselle" of his, one could even imagine nothing untoward was going on.

"The master, that's Jenob?"

"No, mademoiselle, not quite."

I asked no more questions.

Oh, what a fool I was! How could I even think they wouldn't be keeping an eye on me? Me, the "valuable medicine" for Jenob's own daughter! Me, who his son had been guarding personally for eighteen years!

A terrible thought suddenly struck me: Lydia! What was going to happen to her? Naturally, they knew who it was that helped me! And what was going to happen to me? How did they punish runaway slaves? Of course, they were not going to kill me since they still needed me alive, at least for a while. Yet, if history was any indication, death was by far not the worst on a list of potential outcomes.

I felt sick.

The car slowed down. The woods parted and I could see a massive structure silhouetted along the brightly lit sky. It reminded me of an abandoned factory. On the side of the road, there were huge piles of debris, which, upon closer inspection, circled the structure in a kind of a wide protective berm. The initial impression of this place being abandoned was dispelled by manned guard towers along the perimeter of the high internal fencing.

We stopped in front of a gate. The driver got out to open the door for me and offered me his hand. It was all almost civil, but I shuddered with disgust at the very thought of having to touch his hand and passed on his offer of help. He shrugged noncommittally and went to talk to the guards, not bothering to check if I was following him. By all indications, there was no point in trying to flee.

"Who did you come to see?" asked the guard.

I have never before seen that kind of uniform.

"Master."

"You have a pass?" Despite the suspicious look in his eyes, the man was already standing at attention.

"He'll see us," my kidnapper said with conviction. In a split second, he was transformed, the mask of courteous indifference gone and replaced by another--that of cruelty, confidence and severity. "Listen here, you lowgrader, you don't want any trouble, do you? Let master do his business directly, with no intermediaries. You aren't up for it, anyway!"

"I have my orders," the guard insisted. "And those say not to let anyone through. You need to wait for a pass, all the more so since you're traveling with a... um... an outsider."

I had the impression he had a different word in mind but cut himself short.

While they were arguing loudly, I stayed by the car, eagerly looking around. The longer I watched the massive bulk of that stone building and plentiful guards, the more I realized there would be no escaping from here.

Again and again, my gaze would go back to the forest, to where we had just come from.

"Great view, huh?"

I did not quite capture the moment he had entered into my field of vision. Kristoff had a long, dark raincoat on, which enveloped his body like some cocoon of darkness, and it seemed that his pale face was floating on air. His eyes squinted with anger or triumph, and his smile was a twist of sarcasm.

No!

Not quite aware of what I was doing, I broke into a run.

I knew it was no use and that I would never be able to outrun him. I knew he was going to catch me and expected his hands to grab me at any moment. Still, I kept running.

But strangely, that alien touch never came.

And I did not stop. I ran like never before in my life. It seemed I had covered miles and miles, except the wall of the forest was still there, as dense and endless as ever.

Then I began getting tired. Breathing in no longer brought any relief. The air burned my lungs, pain tore my chest apart, and my legs stopped responding. My stumbles and falls were getting more and more frequent...

Suddenly, I realized he was trying to wear me down, as if I were some animal.

I just didn't have strength enough to run away! That forest was endless, unbearably, inexorably endless...

But I still wouldn't stop. Though I couldn't even walk any longer, I still plodded along, dragging one foot after another. Any sick old man could have overtaken me with ease... And probably would have felt better doing it. Finally, I fell one last time, and could not move any further. The dead weight of darkness pressed me down, and the world disappeared.

 

** ** **

I woke from the tingling sensation of an ant crawling down my cheek. My entire body ached horribly, as if someone had worked me over with a club. But I wiggled my extremities and realized those were merely aftereffects of yesterday's marathon.

Suddenly a figure eclipsed the light falling on my face.

I knew who it was. But I wasn't going to let him see my fear!

"You'd make a nice athlete." His voice was seeping sarcasm.

"You can't blame me for trying to run, Kristoff!"

Slowly, stifling a moan, I pulled myself into a sitting position and leaned against a nearby tree.

"Oh? I can't?" He crossed his arms on his chest.

"Yes! No sensible person would just give up her freedom... her life, without a fight. I had to try, and I did! Otherwise, I would keep cursing myself till the end of my days for having not had guts enough to try."

Kristoff chuckled and said, coldly:

"Come on, Ms. Snowe, you have a unique opportunity to see something... something interesting." Abruptly, he pulled me upright and took me by the elbow, almost courteously. Regardless, he basically had to drag me along.

I knew it was hopeless, but I just couldn't help myself. Without raising my eyes, I whispered:

"Kristoff, let me go."

"There are things in this life, Diana, that are simply not possible," he responded just as quietly.

 

** ** **

We didn't have to go far before a clearing glimmered ahead. It was the highway. The same car from yesterday waited on the shoulder, and the driver was the same, too. As we approached, he got out hurriedly and held the door open for us. Though his face looked even more revolting in broad daylight, I had no fear of him. I didn't give a hoot about anything any longer. Nothing could help me now.

Putting me into the backseat, Kristoff sat in the front. He seemed calm and relaxed, as if he hadn't just spent the night chasing me through the woods. A few minutes later--silly me, I thought I had run somewhere far!--the car drove up to the same gate, which opened with no delay to let us through. The guards stood at attention.

Now I knew who the master was.

The car stopped by the entrance to the building. The driver almost flew out and held the door--for the master, and then for me. He didn't offer me his help this time. Kristoff, on the other hand, grabbed me firmly above the elbow and dragged me toward the entrance. Whatever was waiting for me there, it was scary enough.

"Kristoff, I... I..."

"What?"

"I am not going to run again. Let go of me, please."

Terrified to death as I was, I did not want him to see me afraid.

His grip loosened.

As we entered, darkness enveloped us. For some reason, it was only there that I realized Kristoff was seething with anger. It was amazing how I could miss that torrent of anger spilling out of his body. How could I possibly think he had been calm?

We took a short walk, maybe a minute or so. Kristoff stopped in front of a shining steel door and I heard him punch in the code. The electronic beeping made for a stark contrast with the rust and dirt of the room we were in. Silently, the door opened, revealing some subdued light emanating from within. Kristoff nodded at me, ordering me in, and I had nothing left to do but step across the threshold.

We stood at a small rise in a spacious hall. It must have been some kind of a workshop once, and its small windows high up near the dirty ceiling let virtually no light through. That was compensated for by the smooth white floor. Massive bars separated the main part of the premises from the parapet near the door. Deep ditches ran along the walls left and right, and I could see long brownish green anacondas inside of them. Hoses! Of, course, that's what they were! There was a massive bi-fold door at the far end.

Below, on the other side of the bars and down the stairs, there were about a hundred people. Dressed all in the same clothes, they seemed too sleepy to be anything but large, unwieldy dolls. Some of them stood by the bars, fingering them somewhat mechanically, while most others just lay prostrate in their plastic bunk beds. Despite the large number of people there, the place was quiet and clean, and even the smell was pleasant.

"Those that have been here a while don't even want to walk anymore. We got special drugs for that. New arrivals are still trying to escape," Kristoff said, as if delivering a lecture.

Mesmerized, I stood by that giant cage, looking at its inhabitants. He was right--the less active ones even looked different. Very pale, almost motionless, their eyes empty. They were virtual ghosts. Another moment, it seemed, and you'd be able to see right through them.

"That's what's going to happen to you if you make trouble," he said, closely watching for my reaction. "Do you understand?"

I thought for a moment of how I hated this creature and then looked him in the eye, putting the entire weight of my hatred into that gaze.

"Well," his own stare became tense and, strangely enough, somewhat unsure. "Have it your way!"

He reached for the door we had come through and pressed something on the pad next to it. Before I could even think of what he meant by that, the door on the other side whirred and flew open and... alongside people, a bunch of them barged into the hall.

"What..." I turned to Kristoff, and words froze in my mouth.

The look on his face was quite unusual. It was the look of a kennel owner admiring his best hounds.

"You see, Diana," the master spoke to me gently. "All my subordinates need... to eat. But as you are well aware, hunting on the street in broad daylight is dangerous even for them." He pointed at those beasts that no human language had a name or description for. Which wasn't really much of a problem since no human encountering those huge mounds of armored muscle, claws and fangs would live long enough to name or describe them.

"For that reason, I have to concern myself with their well-being and find sustenance for them." He smiled sharply. "Remember, I have many such prisons, and there's room for you too in each and every one of them! And now... Look!" He took me gently by the chin and turned my face toward where all hell had just broken loose.

I tried to keep my eyes open, consoling myself with the thought that should fate give me a chance I'd make this omnipotent monster experience just as much pain as he had caused me. Or that he had caused to the doomed people down there that were giving up their own flesh for a few extra breaths. Still, it was so much worse to watch those who had resigned themselves wholly to their grisly fate.

Soon enough, blood colored the entire world, and it swam away. Darkness enveloped me.

 

** ** **

Everything around rocked and rolled, and rhythmic waves of sound and smell swept me over, gradually bringing me back to consciousness.

I was being carried somewhere.

I didn't want to think where. Not yet. I still had a few minutes of peace left--an eternity in its own right.

Kristoff--it was him who was carrying me--stepped out into the corridor. Guards along the walls stood at attention, making room for their master. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel their looks drilling into my body--the greedy looks of hungry lions. But I was not afraid. Next to their overlord, they were mere puppies.

A huge iron door gave a raspy squeak, and a stream of fresh air washed my face clean. We were outside, and the sun shone brightly. My eyes snapped shut.

"Just like I told you, I am going to come for you Tuesday, Diana." Kristoff's voice was as calm as ever, his gaze impenetrable. "I suggest you make good use of your last two days. Say goodbye to your family, pack the things you need. I hope you realize what a great gesture of good will this is on my part. I am sure you will not cause any more trouble, right?"

Yes, it made no sense to cause trouble. I understood full well that they weren't going to let me out of sight for a moment. He explained it in a very convincing manner.

"Let go of me, Kristoff. I don't like it when strangers touch me."

He put me down, and his glare lashed me as hard as his words did.

"I've been watching you for so long, but somehow I never noticed it."

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could say to that.

 

** ** **

The car that drove up to my parents' luxurious home fit right in with the surrounding landscape. The vehicle's color--blue--registered on a subconscious level, and since it was my favorite color I would have considered it a good omen before. Before... but not now.

Now I held a small box in my hands--the box Kristoff had told me to put a few bare necessities in. I did as I was told. Now, looking at it, I thought I was holding the rest of my life in my hands. It wasn't going to amount to much, anyway, so I wasn't going to need too many things.

I packed no "junk" with me--things like makeup, photographs or tchotchkes, of which we women always have plenty around. I became totally apathetic. What was worse, there was not even enough room in the box for basic clothing. I wondered for a while if they would issue me a uniform or other things I couldn't bring with me. Or would I really not need anything at all? At the last moment, I decided to pack the clothes anyway, putting them into a sizable shoulder travel bag. If worse came to worst, I could simply leave it behind by the front door.

In those two days, I had barely left my room, spending my time sleeping, eating whatever food materialized on my table, or watching out the window for hours in total stupor. My mind was vacant, and I couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. Apparently, the events of the previous few days had left a deep mark on me. Nobody bothered me. I only had a fleeting memory of Lydia peeking into my room while I was asleep. By all appearances, they had left her alone...

 

Kristoff was as cold as he always as. Nothing in his face reminded of that vicious monster that had broke into my room three days prior and changed my life forever, nor of the merciless master that had been teaching his slave girl good manners.

He put my things into the trunk, raising no objections about the "extra" bag. At the very least, I was going to have my own clothes.

He held the rear door open for me and then offered me his hand. It was so... inappropriate! Thinking it was going to be the last gallant gesture I'd see in my life, I touched his hateful hand.

"Thank you," I said, listlessly.

He never even graced me with a nod.

By the window, my family was watching. I never even looked back at them. At that moment, it didn't seem that anything at all mattered any longer.

"They are sorry," Kristoff's even voice suddenly uttered. "Your father would give a lot to be able to turn back time."

For a moment, I froze, unable to believe what I had just heard. Was that Kristoff who had said that?

"Nope!" The shock lingered. "They couldn't care less!"

He turned around and fixed me with a steady gaze.

"You really believe that?"

What was he trying to do, comfort me?!

A great fury took over me. It was his fault that my daily existence was a nightmare incarnate! It was his fault my life was over before it could even begin! And now his presence was poisoning the last precious moments I had left.

"What am I to believe, Kristoff? You destroyed my world! There's nothing left in it to believe in!" Something changed in his gaze, but I kept going. "Don't bother telling me how sorry you are! You only care about your own sister, and you couldn't give a damn about what happens to me. So why all this hypocritical sympathy?!"

I turned away to the window, folding my arms on my chest in anger, like a child might. I should have been glad he didn't care! Naturally, in normal life, any woman would take a man's anger over indifference, but when had my life ever been normal?

Kristoff started the engine, and the car picked up speed.

 

** ** **

We were speeding along the edge of a dark forest. The rain was over, but the bluish fog still enveloped the trees, adding to the fuzzy, ghostly feel of the picture.

I recalled a different forest and the words about me having as many rights as a stray dog, and washing floors, and polishing silver. I also remembered... oh, what difference did it make what I remembered! Now, until the very end of my short days, I was going to depend on others' whims. Then again, I was already quite used to such an arrangement.

Now that everything was set in stone, I relaxed and never even noticed falling asleep. I must have slept long enough, too, since when I opened my eyes the air was thick with a crimson dusk.

I thought I was still sleeping because the scene outside the window was breathtakingly beautiful, like in a fairy tale.

We were entering a gate.

On the other side of the stone wall, a long alley opened, lined with centuries-old trees. It was already completely dark under their bushy crowns. Up ahead, in all its shiny magnificence, there was a... house? A castle? I could not say for sure. The walls built of large stones said castle, but its white glass surfaces looked quite modern.

The place hardly paraded its luxurious riches for everyone out there to see. It simply enjoyed its ways, indifferent to what others might think.

"Get out," Kristoff ordered.

"Yes," I mumbled, stunned by all that splendor, and almost added "master." Luckily, I bit my tongue quickly enough. Something was telling me he was not going to take that well.

A short man ran out to meet us and get my things from the trunk. One did not need to be a trained psychologist to see how terrified he was of Kristoff. The master hardly had to move before the servant would react, with the subtlest flinch: Kristoff barely had time to make the motion before the man rushed to grab the bag from the trunk. Those were subtle signs, but easy to spot just the same.

"Is Jenob home?" Kristoff asked.

"Yes, master, he is waiting for you at the library."

"Good," he said, and then turned to me. "Come with me."

And so I followed, already hating the butler who was so afraid of the "master," and also myself--for my fear of the impending audience and for being so habitually submissive. Walking over snow-white polished slabs, inside of which the reflected image of a scared young girl was fidgeting, we came to a dark door whose only decoration was a gold handle. Real gold it was, too.

Not bothering to knock, Kristoff entered the room, all too sure I was going to follow. Yet, I froze at the entrance, unable to move, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown. Then he grabbed my hand, and I was hit hard by the realization that it was all for real, that I was among infinitely powerful monsters, the devil's spawn that had no mercy whatsoever.

Right now they could do as they pleased with me.

"I don't bite," Kristoff said, annoyed, but clearly aware of my shock and trying to offer some comfort. "At least I am not going to now."

"I concur," said a voice from deep inside the room. "Bring her over! We've been waiting for so long!"

"Go on in," Kristoff's voice was softer now. "There's someone you need to meet."

"Uh-huh," I mumbled under my breath. "Like I need an extra hole in my head..." This happened all by itself, out of my old habit to always talk back, and then I froze again, terrified, realizing they had heard me.

"Extra hole?" Kristoff repeated, as if trying the words on for size. His angry eyes flared. "Sure, we could do that!"

My blood turned to ice... and then rushed forward again in my veins, twice as fast.

This time I was afforded the honor of entering the room first. Kristoff closed the door behind us.

The library happened to be fairly small and cozy: book shelves along the walls, a window, a desk, two soft armchairs almost across from each other.

An old man rose from behind his desk to meet me. His exceedingly gentle smile scared me so much that I recoiled, bumping my back into Kristoff.

"It looks like she trusts you, son!" Jenob laughed, surprised.

"No more than she'd trust a rattlesnake, father," Kristoff retorted from behind, much in the same fashion. Still, he was in no hurry to withdraw. I could feel him with my entire body. My back and the back of my head were covered with goosebumps, but I was too scared to move. Besides, it remained to be seen which of the two of them would be more dangerous. At least Kristoff was the devil I knew. As to the other one...

"Sit down, girl." Strong hands pressed my listless body into the armchair. "What's your name?"

I remained silent, unable to utter a word. My heart was racing.

"Diana," Kristoff said it for me. "Her name is Diana."

Now my heart stumbled. It seemed like I was hearing that name for the first time. Had it been mine all along?

"Well, Diana, you must have guessed by now that I am Jenob." The old man looked at me, expecting me to say something.

The pause was dragging on. Finally, I took the plunge.

"I only have three questions." My shock was gradually wearing out, and I needed to get the important answers while there was still a chance. "First, how long will I live? Second, what's going to happen to me before I die? Third, do I have any rights at all?"

"Are you sure that's all you want to know? How about your duties, visiting your parents, walks outside?"

"I hoped the answer to my second question would cover all that."

"You are smarter than I thought you'd be," the old man smiled admiringly, though coming from him it almost looked like an insult. "From what Kristoff told me, I figured you were as dumb as a doornail, a flirt, and not too discriminate at that. Then again, he kind of slowed you down on that front."

Kristoff was sitting in the other armchair, facing me, and I shot him an annoyed look. His cold stare never left my face. A bout of seething anger replaced my recent panic. Stupid, flirtatious, indiscriminate... Oh, you bastard!

"Stupid, oh yes!" Distorted by fury, my voice was completely unrecognizable. "Dumb as a doornail! Even a complete idiot would have realized you could not live in a place where this monster came to visit you twice a year! Had I been just a tad smarter, I would have cut my own throat and spared myself further misery!!!"

Nothing good was going to happen to me anyway.

"All right then," Jenob said calmly, as if he had not heard my insolent words at all. "Let's get down to the answers. Your lifespan directly depends on whether your blood is going to do my daughter any good. We cannot be sure yet. Time will tell. While in this house, you will be put to work along with others that have been given up in lieu of a debt repayment. Yes, that's right, debt repayment! As I am sure you understand, there are certain specific aspects to our life that wouldn't let us simply hire domestic help through an agency. Besides, what with my political activities and all, we don't need any additional noise. It's out of the question! Now, with this kind of an arrangement, we are sure our secrets will die with us, so to speak..." The father and the son exchanged knowing looks and smiles. "As to your rights, you don't have many. Or, more precisely, any at all. Of course, it will be more difficult for you seeing that most of our servants come from the inner city, but that's totally your problem. You must forget your past life. Please understand that there is no going back. One other thing. In addition to your regular work with the other servants, you will be attending the laboratory where Kristoff and I are working, assisted by a few trusted others that are privy to our secrets. You will keep quiet about everything you see there and never say a word of it to any of our staff."

"Or guests, for that matter. Generally speaking, try to stay as far away from them as you can," added Kristoff. "Since quite a few of our guests are not exactly regular folks, some of them will be able to feel your pulse beating from as far as three hundred yards away. We wouldn't want to have to explain what kind of a strange-smelling human we have here. Any more questions?"

"Will I be able to visit my family?" Not that I missed them or anything. That was a trick question to see if I would be allowed to leave the confines of my prison at all.

The father and the son looked at each other uneasily.

"Would you like to?" Jenob chuckled. "Well, all our servants are afforded the opportunity to go wherever they want twice a month."

"Wherever they want?" I found that hard to believe.

Once again, they exchanged those obscure looks.

"Yes, what matters is that you come back on time. But you will learn all the details later." Kristoff was apparently eager to cut the discussion short. "Let's go, I'll show you to your room."

Obediently, I followed him.

We were going deeper and deeper inside the house. It appeared that it was much larger inside than you might think looking at it from the outside. We passed large halls with high ceilings and wall-to-wall windows, weirdly shaped rooms with multiple doors that led to still more rooms, went up and down different stairs. Finally we found ourselves at a dead end--the end of a long, dark corridor.

I was quite surprised since there were no more doors there. Then he showed me a folding ladder.

"Go right up... Well? What's the matter? Go ahead, climb up!"

Clumsily, I began climbing the ladder, looking back every other second, looking at the... master (and oh, how weird did that word sound--I was sure I was never going to get used to it!). I could not get rid of the strange feeling that he was going to attack me at the first opportunity.

It was a very secluded place. The room was in the attic. There was a large bed in the corner that you could only lie on because of the sharply slanting roof. There was a pretty rug on the floor. Looking around in the scant light of a minuscule lamp, I saw a small table by the window, an armchair next to which my things had been placed, and a chest that was just large enough for the clothes I brought with me. It was all so different from my luxurious closet back home with its abundance of shoes and purses.

"Make yourself at home!"

I was surprised to find Kristoff behind me. As quietly as always, and for no apparent reason, he had climbed up to my room--that is, the room that was now going to be mine.

"Yes," I said, resigned, looking around the room I was going to spend the rest of my life in.

As he stood dangerously close, I tried to pay no attention to him. I'd give a lot to be able to see the complete indifference of old in his eyes that was now replaced with something new.

"It's still too early."

"Early for what?"

"Too early to do what I want."

In the end, was I really going to have to endure that too? As if the rest of it wasn't enough? It was probably called efficient use of property...

I desperately wanted him to leave! I wanted to be left alone and try to figure out what it really was that I felt--fear of my future or indifference?

But he was still standing behind me and I didn't dare move. Even the thought of it seemed dangerous.

"Are you going to come here twice a year as well?" I decided that any question would be better than a tense silence.

"I can come more often if I feel like it."

I turned abruptly, almost bumping into him. I wanted to read it in his eyes what that ambiguous answer really meant. But it was impossible to catch Kristoff unawares. His face had always been an impenetrable mask. It seemed that not even my sharp maneuver surprised him a bit.

"I'll have to bring you food and medicine every night to help raise your blood hemoglobin level."

"Why?" I asked warily, my heart skipping a beat at the very thought of how many more of his whims I would yet have to endure.

"You'll be giving a lot of blood, and it may adversely affect your health," he explained.

"My health?" I gave him an understanding smile. Really, how could I forget? "Well, duh, my health is now a great concern of yours!"

But why would he have to do it himself? It's not like there was a shortage of servants in the house. The very thought that Kristoff would be so close to me every night caused me unbearable pain.

Looking sideways, I decided to probe the issue a little further:

"Can't you have someone else do it? After all, you are no servant. You are the master here!"

"You got that right, Diana," he said after a long pause, all business. "I am the master. I get to decide who does what in this house. Remember that!"

"All right."

I patiently waited for him to leave, but Kristoff wouldn't budge, and suddenly I had a strange feeling that it was myself who was the unwanted guest here, rather than him. No rights, none, I thought bitterly and closed my eyes. That's how it would be from now on. No one would bother showing me any manners! I would now have to put up patiently with any kind of mistreatment!

I opened my eyes and saw Kristoff watching me intensely. For a while, we just stared at each other silently.

"You will meet my sister tomorrow," he finally said and left the room abruptly.

What was it he saw in my eyes that made him look so... so... What?

 

** ** **

Thus started my new life, full of new fears and worries. On the very first morning, they drew a large amount of blood from me. Having never given blood before, I watched the plastic bag fill with the dark liquid, feeling sick and terrified. I had no idea if such a blood loss was dangerous or fairly inconsequential. Regardless, I felt like I was drained almost empty and about to die. Getting off the couch after the procedure, I went back horizontal right away--on the floor. The sharp stench of ammonia brought me back to the world, and a pleasant voice told me I was in no danger and would recover in a few days. But the fear remained, growing steadily and destroying the rest of my sanity. When they drew still more blood from me later that day, I lost consciousness again, even though that time they only took a few drops.

She who was the reason for me being in this place remained as distant as ever. Kristoff never introduced me to Moira, and luckily I never saw much of him either. He would often leave and return during the day, and I stopped fretting about his comings and goings. It was not clear what he was so busy about, or rather, what his "cover" was in the human world, but at least I was led to understand that the young master was in no way dependent on his father.

Young indeed! He must have been older than the old gardener at my parents' place!

The dramatic transition to my new life had an inevitable effect on my mental state, and I started crumbling under stress. I started seeing things. Occasionally, I would feel someone's intense stare burning my skin from behind, but when I turned around I saw nothing at all. Or someone's breath would ruffle my hair, the feeling being so real that I'd have goosebumps immediately all over my body. Yet, the feeling of being touched was the scariest. Falling asleep, I'd feel a caressing motion on my lips; at work, someone's finger would caress the back of my neck fleetingly, and when I was changing for the night--there was the faintest sensation of touch on my breasts. No matter how swiftly I reacted, looking around, there was never anyone there.

Give it some more time in this loony bin, and you can kiss the rest of your sanity goodbye, I thought. Back home, in my former life, I would have been sure to panic by now, and maybe even seek psychiatric help believing that I was losing my mind. Just out of curiosity, what would have the shrink said? He would have probably recommended I live a quiet life, avoid stress, get plenty of sleep... Alas, all of that was a distant dream now.

But I was hardly in any position to ruminate for long about anything. Unprepared for the amount of work they piled on me from the very first day (for I never really had to do any work before), weakened by the blood loss and the fears it promulgated, I would make it back to my room around midnight. The huge house would continue buzzing without me. Everything I had seen, heard or lived through immediately drowned in the dark pit of oblivion once my head touched the pillow. I never had any dreams. Early next morning, overcoming a myriad aches in my every muscle, I'd have to go back to the burden of my duties.

In a frighteningly short period of time, I became a totally different person: invisible, quiet, submissive...

Sometimes, during rare moments of rest, I would look in the mirror and wonder where the me I once knew had gone. Where was that strong-willed beauty that dared argue with the omnipotent Kristoff himself? She must have died, making room for that pale, overworked girl that was always in the grip of her fear. Even my eyes looked unrecognizable now.

 

** ** **

Amazingly, the owners of the house hid from no one. Their luxurious high life was all over the news, both in printed media and on TV. As I learned later, it fell to numerous servants to protect their masters' secret. It was hard to believe that such a huge number of people could keep it all under wraps. Still, the primeval fear each and every one of them felt guaranteed that everything possible--and impossible too--would be done.

Jenob received many visitors, including politicians, businessmen and performance artists. I even recognized one whom I had met before, but, luckily, he didn't recognize me. How could he, really? He must have remembered a temperamental daughter of an influential father, beautiful and well-coiffed, not some wretched, unkempt servant. Whoever paid attention to those?

I moved in totally different circles now, comprising people of different ages and backgrounds. Nice folks for the most part, they had one thing in common--extraordinary obedience and reverence for their masters. That alone got you thinking.

Sometimes, looking at their faces, I asked myself what kind of monsters their parents had to be to have sold their children. And not just to anyone, but to actual monsters! Still, recalling the torture my own family had gone through, I understood that nothing was black and white. Who knew what could prompt people to resort to such desperate measures? Indeed, in addition to some stupid infantile wants, as in the case of my father, life was full of circumstances that could really cause people to lose their minds. And, lo and behold, here they would be, the glamorous, all-powerful aristocracy, always ready to take advantage of someone's dire circumstances. Despite all their deliberate glamour, these glitterati often proved empty and morally bankrupt inside.

There were only three girls of about my age among the servants, and that was who I mostly socialized with. Once, overcoming my unease, I asked Mika, the oldest of them, where our masters were getting the food they needed from. All pale and serious, she explained that servants could be punished thus for their transgressions. But it also depended on one's age and physical appeal. Apparently, the old and the plain were not particularly popular. Besides the servants, there were also people that repaid their debts that way. Overall, the masters were not wanting for nutrition.

"And have you been found... um... guilty much?"

The girls, holding huge cups intended for use by servants alone, froze. Kira, the middle one, leaned closer and whispered into my ear:

"You'd better not get on their bad side!" Her look radiated sympathy for me and hatred of the masters aplenty. "Jenob is cruel, on occasion he beats those that cross him almost to death. Kristoff, at first glance, is more reserved than his father, but once you piss him off enough, he can really fly off the handle. Take my word for it, stay away from them all as much as you can. Don't get involved with Moira either. That's Jenob's daughter. You'll live longer that way."

I only asked because I could not forget the prison I had been given a tour of after my attempted escape. Every time I thought of it, I heard screams of agony and saw blood-splattered faces that also seemed frighteningly indifferent to their horrible fate.

So how did they decide who was going to labor and who was to become food? And what was going to happen to me once the "debt was paid"? Used with the utmost efficiency and no longer needed, would I also end my days with that mask of indifference on my face? And who was I going to be food for? I thought I had an idea...

My new life and the horrible new reality of my situation taught me caution. Every word I said and every action I took became carefully measured--something I was totally incapable of before.

Any mistakes would just be too costly.

 

** ** **

... I was at the seashore. In front of me, a stormy ocean stretched out for as far as I could see. Huge waves rocked and rolled, exposing their bellies to the sun, running the gamut of greens, from turquoise to viridian. Wind squalls brought in salty spray and the smell of seaweed. Even though the storm swirled at my feet, I was not afraid. On the contrary, I yearned to soar and frolic in the air stream, barely touching the foamy crests with my fingers... An unusual feeling of freedom swept all over my body, making it as light as a kite and ready to rumble. The wind breathed gently over my face...

Strange as it might seem, I have never seen the ocean before, and it was an unforgettable sight. Nor have I ever been free... what a loss!

Someone's breath on my face felt like a gentle breeze.

All of a sudden, the sun-filled world permeated with my freedom receded, leaving me to wake up in a small, dark room.

Where I was not alone.

He leaned over me so closely that his raspy, almost human breathing washed over me, trickling down my skin and through my hair onto the bed. It felt like he was trying to press his entire body against me and swallow me whole.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" I took a convulsive breath. It was a stupid question to ask, but that was the first thing that came to my mind as I woke. A part of me was still there, at the seashore.

In response, he gave me a smile that filled my veins with ice and roused my mind to full awareness.

"I know," Kristoff whispered, whatever that meant, and then pulled slightly back and looked at me in the dim moonlight. I have never seen such a scary look before. His eyes were on fire! Terrified, I froze and almost stopped breathing.

Sinking his hand into my hair and grabbing a handful, he buried his face in it, taking deep breaths. Then he gave me another look, smiled, revealing his sharp teeth, and that eerie smile, coupled with the burning eyes, made him look absolutely unhumanlike. I began feeling sick. No, anyone but him!

His fingers were already caressing my face, burning my temples, cheekbones and neck with his unwelcome affection. My body tensed with fear... and he seemed to like it...

I shuddered in disgust. My heart pounded against my ribcage like a hammer. Really, what was the big deal? This wasn't the end of the world, not by a long shot!

Yet, the very thought that it would be him doing it to me caused me unspeakable anguish. Maybe it was because he was looking at me like I was just another thing he owned.

His hand touched my lips tenderly, caressing the lower lip and pulling it slightly open, then slid down my neck, fondled my breasts and went still further down, past the lower belly...

"Please, don't! Anyone but you, I beg you..."

He shuddered.

His hand froze, and his gaze changed. His eyes now burned with rage. Was he going to kill me right there and then, or was I still going to see another sunrise?

"I beg you, don't! Not today!" Any delay at all would equal all eternity. "Please, Kristoff!"

He braced himself as if before a jump, and it seemed that when he'd finally take that leap upward, he was going to take me with him... whether I liked it or not.

"Please!"

Whether it was all my humble begging or the look of utter disgust in my eyes, the fire in his gaze went out, and his body relaxed.

"Get up and get dressed. I'll be waiting for you in the living room," Kristoff grumbled sharply, rising from my bed, and left the room.

 

** ** **

I could not move a limb. What had just happened left my body drained and my mind listless. What would have happened had he not changed his mind? I broke into nervous laughter. I would have just died, that's what would have happened!

No, that wouldn't do! The last thing I needed was getting all hysterical. I had to pull myself together. Kristoff could well come back to see what the holdup was. And I wanted that least of all!

Thus, with a deep sigh, I got up, threw a sweater over the thin t-shirt and sweat pants I used for pajamas, and headed towards the ladder. Getting closer to the open trap door, I noticed a massive deadbolt on its outer side. Had it always been there? I didn't remember seeing it before. This way, they could easily lock me inside, and I'd be none the wiser, at least not right away.

I was already near the living room when I realized I had forgotten to put any shoes on, and now my bare feet were freezing on the cold floor. Damn that Kristoff! It was too late to go back, so I decided to keep going and stepped onto the rough carpet below.

Of course, he was alone--all distant, his gaze impenetrable, as if it wasn't even him who had just been ordering me around in the most categorical manner imaginable. I had never felt at ease around him, but now I was afraid to even raise my eyes to him.

"Come with me!" he barked, heading into the corridor all the servants were so afraid of.

Obediently, I followed.

How easier it could have been had he introduced me to Moira earlier, before I learned of her cranky nature! Why did she need to see me, anyway? I was just her medicine.

We stopped by the door, and once again my heart was drum-rolling away. I felt that, at this rate, I wasn't going to live long enough to even see that bitch get better.

The small, cozy room was dimply lit. The walls were covered with strange drawings, reminiscent of some ancient scripts and quick, surrealistic sketches done by someone who had considerable artistic talent.

One could easily miss the little girl that seemed utterly lost in her enourmous bed. Skinny to the point of near transparency, awfully fragile, she looked at me with her huge nocturnal eyes that took up half her face. She could hardly have been older than thirteen--that is, if she were well. But she was sick, very sick. It seemed as though at any moment she was going to draw her last breath.

What was in front of me totally belied the image of a monster I expected to see after everything I had heard about her, and I felt lost.

Without taking her eyes off of me, the girl tried to get out of bed, perhaps for a closer look. Her entire body trembled from the strain of it, and her forehead shone with perspiration. Small and helpless, she aroused a wave of acute pity inside of me, the likes of which I had never experienced before. Seeing how hard it was for her to move, I rushed toward her on impulse, reaching out to support her frail body.

"Don't, I am going to come closer! Stay down!" It was only then that I thought of possible repercussions my instinctive actions and words could have.

Obediently, Moira leaned back on her pillows, her amazingly deep eyes still on me. She made for a strangely ambiguous figure--an innocent girl and a decrepit old woman rolled into one.

"Moira, this is Diana, the girl we told you about." Kristoff's voice was so close that I staggered back for a moment. But he only leaned in next to me to adjust the girl's pillow and brush a lock of her long black hair off her face. Then, turning to me, he coldly said:

"From now on, your main job will be to care for her. As you can see, it's not going to be easy."

"I understand," I said in a low tone of voice and then added, once again without thinking it over, "Is she really your sister?"

Indeed, it was hard to believe. Pale, tender Moira could not possibly be related to that monster. I bit my tongue, but a moment too late.

"Don't think the job will be a simple one." Kristoff looked at his sister. "All the servants are terrified of her, remember? There is a reason for that. Don't kid yourself about her frail looks. Cross her, and Moira will easily break your arm... or snap your neck."

That couldn't be true! He was simply trying to intimidate me. He thrived on my fear! The poor girl's lips went pale with pain, and I felt so awfully sorry for her.

"So you'd better not get on her bad side!" He turned to me, his face no longer that of Moira's doting brother. As his eyes flashed once more with fire, the message came through loud and clear, and there was no ignoring it.

"If she doesn't get better, Diana... not even death will let you escape!"

I knew it was true. But the larger truth was that even if Moira did get better, I was still not going anywhere.

 

** ** **

My life acquired a deliberate, routine simplicity about it, which was incredible, considering where I was.

Every morning, I had to visit Jenob's laboratory where, in addition to the old man himself, three others worked: a foreigner by the name of Kyle (it was he who consoled me when I lost consciousness on the first day) and his two assistants. They knew who I was and understood how valuable I was for the masters, so they made a point of being attentive and polite with me. For that reason, strangely enough, the laboratory where many of my new fears originated became the only place where I could feel I was a person in my own right, rather than a helpless servant. Sometimes I would even get to recall that I was also a beautiful girl.

Kyle developed a charming habit of giving me a piece of chocolate once he was done drawing my blood and doing tests. Even though I understood that was the way it was supposed to be, his somewhat bashful smile and gallant manner made it a ritual that was more than just making up for the calories lost.

 

Now Moira owned not just my blood, but my time as well, since I visited her every day.

Who did she see in me? A savior no one bothered to ask whether she cared to do any saving? Yet another servant whose arm she could break for not being fast enough? Or a stupid victim that sympathized with her own murderer? I had no idea...

She, on the other hand, was so many things to me! A poor little darling suffering through the centuries, doomed to eternal solitude. A monster like Kristoff who was imbibing my transient life to extend her own, though it had already lasted for centuries. An endless treasure trove of wisdom, experience and understanding, next to whom I was but a grain of sand, gone with the wind...

Days passed. Every time, I would stay with her longer and longer. Soon enough I could just walk in and put my head in her lap.

"What's the matter with my best friend?" Moira would ask, caressing my hair. "Tell me, maybe I could help."

I would tell her everything, with nothing held back. Her words were always amazingly to the point, going straight to my heart. Though they could not heal me completely, they at least made life bearable.

Moira became something I had never had and never expected to find: a comfort, a friend... a sister.

For that reason, as crazy as it may sound, while my body was growing weaker, I rejoiced at the sight of her getting better. She was no longer trembling like a listless leaf in the wind trying to get upright in bed. She would meet me and see me off sitting up all by herself and smiling. Her pale skin lost its ghostly hue and her face grew prettier.

Speaking with her was very interesting and... strange. Moira seemed to be the ultimate straight arrow and could say things to your face that would usually be avoided even in conversations between the most intimate of confidants. On the other hand, her comments helped me look at the situation from a different angle. In any case, I realized she was not doing it to offend me. Telling the truth was simply a big part of who she was.

Moira told me a lot about life in other countries and about her family. Besides, she often spoke of her brother, whom she truly admired.

"You know, he almost got married once," she confided in me one day. "Yes, it was... let me see... about forty years ago. But I'm sure remembers the lady still."

"So what happened?" I asked with deliberate indifference. Inside, my heart skipped a beat.

"She betrayed him. I am sure she wished she hadn't later, but Kristoff never forgave her."

"Moira, but... why did she do it? If he loved her, she could have been happy with him." Truth be told, though, I found it hard to believe anyone could be happy with him.

"He never told her who he really was. She knew nothing of his power, his money or his abilities. And you know what's strange? Kristoff himself set her up for that betrayal!"

"I don't understand..."

"Neither do I," Moira sighed and shook her head with reproach. "He found a good actor among the servants... to play a rich and powerful official. And she just couldn't resist!"

I was cleaning, trying not to look her in the eyes. For her part, Moira was tactfully pretending she hadn't noticed how fast my heart was beating.

"Well, maybe everything isn't as bad as it seems," I finally found courage to say. "Forgive me for saying this, but I just don't see your brother as a loving, protective type."

"And you know what type he is?" Moira smiled back.

"No, I don't, and I don't want to," I retorted sharply. "Still, I'm sure that if he truly loved her, he wouldn't have put his love, the greatest prize there is, at risk!"

Moira kept silent, and her wise ancient eyes revealed nothing.

 

** ** **

I got used to my new life.

Since my room was in the attic, the sounds of wind and rain often filled my nights. In earlier times, the distraction would have kept me up, but now I barely noticed it. I stopped being bothered by my limited choice of clothes and forgot altogether about the luxurious closet back at my parents' house. The daily grind and my work duties were no longer a source of constant annoyance. They now became as inconspicuous as breathing.

I got used to the humans--and non-humans--around me, to the hopeless submissiveness of the servants, to Kyle's kindness, to the unexpected friendship with Moira... and to no more Kristoff.

After he introduced me to his sister, I only got to see him again a couple of times. I could hardly be happier, since my feelings toward him were so complicated. Even after Moira's exuberant stories, I found it difficult to soften my stance. I felt as if I were standing on a frozen mountaintop, from which the faintest zephyr could trigger the avalanche of my hatred.

I no longer felt lonely. Loneliness simply became a part of me. I never asked to see my family. The girls said I was eventually going to grow out of it and start missing them, but I realized I was never going to see my parents again--simply because I didn't feel I'd want to. Not because I didn't love them. It would just be too painful to go back to the world where I still enjoyed the freedom of choice and the reality of seeing Kristoff merely two times a year.

Other servants usually asked for liberty on Saturdays. There would only be about a dozen of us left, which was barely enough for a house of that size, so the remaining skeleton crew would have to take on even more work. By the end of the day, I'd only have strength enough left to make it back to my bed.

On one such day, getting back to my room and half-asleep already, I suddenly heard music playing. Outside, it was getting dark. Distant lights blinked somewhere behind the trees. The garden was full of music. Sonorous sounds called out to the old me--an unmarried young girl from an affluent family who was used to loud entertainment. Not quite aware of what it was I was up to, I headed towards the exit and further on, to the garden where the lights shone and the party was in full swing. Every step I took brought me closer to the source of that music, wresting well-forgotten memories from the past...

I thought my step was light enough and the sound of music would conceal it in its entirety. For that reason, almost unconcerned about being seen, I stopped behind some bushes, watching the partiers that were having fun by the pool--all those people in nice clothes that wore expensive jewelry, the kind I used to have once... Momentarily, I wondered if mine was still where I left it, in those jewelry boxes, or whether my mother had already given it all to Natalie...

I yearned for the carefree joy of my former world, all those lazy late breakfasts and beautiful courtships. I was astonished by how strongly I actually wanted to go back to my old self, the way I used to be.

What a silly, hopeless wish!

Watching the guests eagerly, I pinpointed Kristoff and three of his friends right away. They stood out from the crowd like wolves among a herd of sheep.

Kristoff was kissing a girl. Young and smitten by her handsome man, she clang to him with abandon, looking into his face lovingly. In her hands was a huge bouquet of fairly banal red roses. As for him, between kisses his bored gaze roamed the surrounding trees and bushes behind which I was hiding. At times, he would give his lady a fleeting, artificial smile, which suddenly reminded me of Daria...

As soon as I realized what it all meant, everything inside of me froze with terror.

I recoiled instinctively and took a few steps back. A twig cracked under my foot. The sound was barely audible, but somehow I knew I was heard. When I raised my eyes, Kristoff looked directly at me--at the very place I was hiding. His face had the familiar ferocious guise to it, the same one that made my blood chill!

Hiding no more, I turned around and scurried back through the garden, as if a pack of wolves was chasing me. I couldn't see what it was that I did so wrong, but somehow I knew I was going to have to pay!

Barging into my room, I slammed the trap door shut and weighed it down with an armchair. Alas, there was no deadbolt on the inner side of it. Staying up until the wee hours, I was afraid to close my eyes and hated myself for it (even though, as Moira liked to put it, sarcastically, fear was a noble feeling).

But little by little, the rustle of the rain outside put me to sleep...

 

** ** **

I woke up having a terrible headache. Iron jaws clamped down on my poor head so vigorously that even my vision got dark and fuzzy. My joints crackled and my entire body felt like it was one large bruise. To add insult to injury, I also felt nauseous. Just about the only part missing from that wholesome picture was a sore throat.

Damn virus! Like I didn't have other things to worry about!

In my past, seemingly unhappy (or so I thought) life, I wouldn't have even gotten out of bed when feeling so miserable. A doctor would have visited me at home and given me a prescription. Then, bored to death and cranky, I'd stay in my bed under warm covers for as many days as I needed to get better. Now I could only dream about such things. I had to get up.

Gathering every ounce of my strength, I arose from the bed, trying to keep my head in one piece.

There was noise in my ears, and for a moment I also went blind. Then, as I stood still for a while, the noise subsided, and little by little my vision came back.

Having put on some clothes and walked a few steps around the room, I felt somewhat better and went to wash up with more confidence. The headache was still there, but my condition didn't change the fact that my actions were no longer my own, but rather subject to the ironclad daily rules and routines.

The laboratory was still the same: bright yet inoffensive lighting, quiet humming of equipment and the ever-present smell of chemicals. Taking a seat in my usual armchair, I closed my eyes. But that day it wasn't just an oft-practiced way of separating myself from reality: I was sick. I had more tests coming, and the thought of the torture the next few hours promised made me emit a spontaneous moan. "I won't live through this one," I mumbled under my breath.

"Oh, yes, you will." That voice always had a calming effect on me. "You lived through it before, and you will now."

I opened my eyes: Kyle.

His look spelled attention, and his smile was warm. Broad in the shoulder, he was a little taller than me. His clothes and hair always tidy, he had the looks of a true scientist. He was handsome. Furthermore, he was unbelievably kind to me. I tried not to dwell upon the reason of his kindness. I just couldn't afford it. My time was seeping out with my blood.

"Easy for you to say. You are not the one being stuck with all these needles." I wished my deliberately playful tone wouldn't betray the way I felt, but...

"I wouldn't quite put it this way, Diana. It isn't easy to bear witness to your nightmare day in, day out." His hand covered mine. His sympathetic eyes caught my bewildered gaze and wouldn't let go of it.

It was so unfair! Why did I need to get here, to this monster lair, to meet a real man? He would be too good to be true even for my past life, let alone this one where I was literally not my own person! I couldn't reciprocate in any way.

Apparently, Kyle could see some of this misery in my eyes, because he took his hand away and said quietly, trying to match my nonchalant demeanor:

"Shall we get started then? Jenob and Kristoff are not in today, so if we skip some of the tests, nobody is going to go for our throats." He winked, a fellow conspirator.

Everything inside of me turned upside down! How could he even joke about it? He must have known how real that particular scenario was.

But Kyle was already issuing orders to his assistants, reading gauges and checking monitors. It seemed nothing could escape his attention. He knew everything and could do anything. A brilliant mind in his professional field, he hadn't gone unnoticed. My masters preferred the best of everything.

Kyle, as a voluntary employee, enjoyed a special status in the house. He was the only one who did not refer to Jenob and Kristoff as masters (and I often felt it was very irksome for those two, used to absolute subservience from anyone around them). He was the only person in the house who could talk to them without looking down, and projected no hopelessness that was so typical of the rest of us. His internal strength and self-esteem set him apart as sure as a halo around his head would. I was often amazed at how strong these internal qualities had to be to shine so brightly under the circumstances. I sincerely hoped that once his contract was up he would not have any... difficulties leaving.

That might well have been the first time I went through our regular testing without getting increasingly more scared.

"Thank you," I articulated silently (one of his assistants stood right there), catching his reflected gaze in the window pane.

Kyle nodded slightly. No one watching from the outside would have noticed anything, but his reflection gave me a warm smile. Sadly, I smiled back.

Like no other, he radiated calm and stability. I felt irresistibly drawn to him!

But I knew I shouldn't focus on that.

"You aren't feeling well," he said, removing the sensors at the end of the procedure and looking me in the eyes. "I should have known!"

"No, it's not that!" I was sure he could do without any additional worries, all the more so since he couldn't do anything to help anyway. "It's just that I haven't had enough sleep lately, so I'm awfully tired. And now there's this bug I caught. So it's no wonder I started feeling under the weather and... seeing things, you know." That last part, I should have definitely kept it to myself.

"How do you mean?" Kyle was immediately concerned.

But I just couldn't talk about it! Pretending I didn't hear him, I tried to hop off the chair and immediately got dizzy. I had to grab at Kyle to steady myself.

"Diana!" He gave me a look full of worry, and I realized my careless words told him more than I ever intended to reveal. "You will let me know if something is not... right, won't you?" Except he wasn't asking.

"I'd tell you, yes!" I said before I could think my answer through. That moment I knew that if there was a person I could trust in this world, it had to be Kyle.

When I opened the door, the smile was still on my face. But my elation got nipped right in the bud--on the other side of the entryway there was Kristoff!

And boy, was he furious!

Scared to death by his wild gaze, I froze.

"It's such a pity you've been delayed, Kristoff. We are done for the day," Kyle said calmly, giving the monster towering over us a cold, hard look.

 

** ** **

By the end of the day, I was moving like an automaton. All my thoughts were about going to bed--and sleeping, sleeping... My headache was almost gone, but the general feeling of exhaustion left both my body and my mind totally drained. Never before had I been forced to spend a day on my feet while sick.

In the evening, as I was cleaning the table in the living room after Jenob's guests, I was dreaming about my pillow and remained fairly oblivious to everything else around me. As I moved back and forth, shifting dirty dishes to one side of the long table, I passed a chair by the fireplace many times over. Then all of a sudden, my peripheral vision caught movement in it. I froze, startled.

In the armchair, there sat Kristoff. Had he been there all that time? He was perfectly still, covering his face with his hand in a gesture of complete exhaustion, separating himself from the world. It was a strange sight! He had always been so vehement, so full of energy! Even when he stood still it seemed he had a tightly wound spring inside of him that could go off any moment with tremendous force. Still, at that moment he looked weary, like a regular human. It must have been a very difficult day. A long wrinkle of anguish ran across his forehead.

Instinctively, I took a step toward him.

"What?" His eyes opened immediately. Contrary to what I expected, they were under tremendous strain, the likes of which I had never seen in him.

"Nothing."

It was so stupid to yield to impulsive urges.

Kristoff put his hand down and gave me a long look.

"Then just go, Diana! I had a... a hard day today. The last thing I want now is to see you."

"Likewise, it's just that--"

"What?" He was not just going to take no for an answer.

"I thought you weren't feeling well," I said, and realized immediately just how foolish I sounded. It was amazing what being unwell could do to a person. "I'm sorry, I am just going to go..."

In one imperceptible motion, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me closer. Oblivious to any possible consequences, I tried to break free, but Kristoff wouldn't let go. He wasn't hurting my hand, only my pride, and very much so.

His eyes were unrelentingly searching for something in mine.

"You are contradicting yourself! You can't stand me, and now, all of a sudden, you care." His lips spread into a sarcastic grin.

"It's hard for me to say this, Kristoff, but you are... you are my master. I..." The right words just wouldn't come. "I care about you as I would about... about your dog." Now that was a great analogy! "If one of them gets sick, I will try to help. It is my duty. It doesn't mean I like their fangs."

My hand slid out of his freely, and I took an immediate step back, unsure of what to expect in response to my insolent words.

But he only leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes.

"Better go get yourself busy with something, Diana," he said quietly.

It was hard to believe I got out of the encounter unscathed.

 

** ** **

A year before, I was certain nothing could be worse than living at my parents' home. As early as a month before, I was still trying to come to grips with the idea that my life would soon be over. Now I knew that life went on--just not here, and not for me.

My relationship with Kristoff, never easy, now became truly unbearable. It seemed malice now took up permanent residence in his eyes, and every time I passed him I could feel his vile look burning my skin. Generally cold and reserved before, he began picking on me, even as I tried my damnedest not to give him any reasons to do so. Unbelievable as it was, a couple of times he even resorted to screaming!

I could not understand what it was he hated me for so much. Could it be that, after eighteen years of waiting, he was tired and annoyed with having to put up with my presence still? Or was he bugged by the fact that so much depended on me and that he couldn't just feed me to his goons as he would much rather do? Then there was the issue of my temerity, which must have been making him angrier still.

Still, he could not possibly hate me more than I hated him! Every time I saw Kristoff, heard his voice or simply thought about him, my fists would clench, my lips would pale, and my heart would begin a relentless countdown, like a timing device on a bomb. Oh, if I could only blow up like a bomb and take that monster to the grave with me, that would be a sweet way to go!

As time went by, our confrontation only grew worse.

Taking advantage of his position as the master, Kristoff piled a double load of work on me, disregarding my ill health. In return, keeping my infirmity to myself as much as I could, I silently hated him more and more.

One morning, not quite awake yet, I opened my eyes and saw him at my bedside. Naturally, it must have been a dream, seeing as Kristoff was smiling. And it wasn't just that I had only seen him smile a few times in my entire life. The expression on his face was totally different: soft, tender, extraordinary... and as imperious and cruel as ever.

Damn! It wasn't a dream!

He was indeed there!

Something in his eyes must have reminded me of the past, and I was immediately sucked into a vortex of fear. Soon it was replaced with embarrassment: I must have been hot at night and taken my t-shirt off. My blanket was on the floor, too, and Kristoff was standing right there, staring at me shamelessly. How dared he!

A wave of familiar hatred swept over me. I could hardly breathe!

In a nutshell, it was a very energetic awakening.

Unexpectedly for myself, I drew a spasmodic lungful of air, jumped out of bed and hissed into his face like a furious cat:

"What are you doing here?! Get out!!!"

Amazingly, he recoiled in surprise and took a step back. This only added fuel to the fire of my fury. The entire load of grievances I had accumulated inside suddenly poured out in response to his intrusion. No punishment, not even death could silence me now. For the first time unconcerned with whether anyone else heard me, or what they may think, or what reaction it might elicit from my master, I screamed:

"What are you doing here?!" No longer caring that I was almost naked--he had already seen everything he wanted to see anyway--I pressed home my attack, demanding explanations. I was sure he had had time enough to forget I could have so much gall in me. I put my foot down on the trap door so that he couldn't just leave without giving me an answer.

Kristoff was surprised and seemed at a loss. I had never seen him like that before.

"I hate you!" Bitter tears burned my eyes. "You took away my family and my very life! But that's not enough for you! I'm working my butt off from dawn till dusk, and I need my sleep. At least a little! A little peace and quiet! Did it ever occur to you that the medicine for your precious sister may simply run out before she's cured?! And it would be because of you!" I drew another hefty lungful and roared: "Get out!!!" Tears were now streaming down my face, scorching every last remaining bit of life inside of me.

Kristoff turned into a statue, saying nothing and only staring at me funny. Only his raspy breath indicated he was still alive.

"What did I do to you? Why can't you treat me the same way you do other servants? Sure, I may have been insolent back home, but now I hardly ever open my mouth without a good reason. I am just a servant now, obedient and submissive... So why do you keep singling me out?!"

All of a sudden, it was as if Kristoff finally awoke from his stupor. In a split second, he was all over me, his hands on my shoulders and shaking me.

"Submissive?!" His fingers clawed into my body, hurting me. "You have never submitted! Anyone who has eyes to see will know how angry you are, how much you hate me and want to cut my throat! And what makes you think I'm singling you out? What makes you think you are so different? How dare you hate me? You are nothing!" As words poured out of him, he shook me harder and harder, rage virtually spilling out of his eyes. "I only stopped by to tell you they want you at the lab right away!"

My head swayed back and forth as if I were a rag doll. Still, he wouldn't let go of me.

"Oh, yes, you are no longer the stupid, egocentric girl you were before. You've learned compassion, learned to smile warmly at others. At everyone--even that 'horrible' Moira! Only I am still a beast to you. Why?! Because I am in charge? Because I am powerful? I didn't do anything bad to you until you started pissing me off! And you would never have seen my dogs feeding had you not tried to flee!"

Abruptly, his iron grip loosened and I fell to the floor right away. Was I really so weak, or simply so frightened that my legs buckled?

"I am never going to forgive you for what I saw!" I looked him straight in the eye, articulating every word succinctly and clearly. "Remember, if I ever get a chance, I will kill you!"

Kristoff leaned in, smiling to something he alone could hear.

"Except you will never get that chance," he whispered softly.

And then he kissed me!

Caught completely unawares, I froze for a moment, and then began pounding him with my fists, trying at once to hurt him and break free. But alas, the pain was all mine, not Kristoff's, and it was all the more so since the kiss... well, I liked it!

When he finally let go of me and straightened, I saw Kyle standing behind him. In the heat of the battle, I never noticed him enter the room. Still confused, I was barely aware of my surroundings at all.

Turning to go, Kristoff gave a deliberate cry of surprise:

"Oh, Kyle! What are you doing here?" His playful tone and satisfied grin left no doubt as to what he was doing there.

That bastard! That was me finally coming to.

"I came to tell Diana we needed her urgently at the lab." Kyle said, his voice and countenance devoid of any emotion.

"Oh, then I won't stand in your way!" Bypassing Kyle, Kristoff jumped down, not even bothering with the ladder.

I couldn't look Kyle in the eye. I felt sick from the very idea that he may have borne witness to my "conversation" with Kristoff. How awkward that must have looked to him!

I got up and turned away from him, clumsily covering myself with my arms.

"Go, Kyle. I'll be right over." I was shaking nervously, and my usual headache had come back, too. It was all so horrible! No words could possibly make that situation right.

"Diana..." Kyle said behind my very back.

My shakes only got worse.

"Go!"

"Don't, Diana." He wrapped me in a blanket--and his embrace.

Mechanically, I kept on fighting, and my tears kept dripping onto his shirt.

"Shh, don't cry..." His arms held me softly, without trying to restrain me, and, little by little, I relaxed. My sobbing subsided and I felt better. I wasn't alone any longer. I was with Kyle.

"You think I am blind? You think I don't know what kind of a monster he is?"

I could finally raise my eyes at him. Softly, tenderly, he brushed a stray lock of hair from my wet face.

"Diana, I'll do everything I can to protect you, even if it costs me my life. I know what I could do to help."

I believed him.

I was all the more scared the following morning when I saw that the trap door was open and the armchair that had always stood by the table was moved right to my bed. The cover on it was all wrinkled, as if someone had sat in it for a long time...

 

** ** **

Moira noticed my condition but asked nothing, tactfully waiting for me to share. But I was lost for words to explain my incoherent feelings. Suspicions that only started forming in my mind were so disturbing that I dared not dwell on them, let alone voice then. Still, her readiness to sympathize broke the defensive wall I had built around me, and at some point the main question that tormented me broke free in a bout of uncontrollable sobs:

"Why does he hate me so much?!"

In a split second, Moira had me in her arms, rocking me like a mother consoling a child crying over something totally trivial. How bizarre it must have all looked: a fragile albeit mature child, comforting a much older girl. She still said nothing, waiting for my tears to run their course. How did I even manage to live before without such a great, sincere friend? Her infinitely wise eyes shone with understanding...

"Moira, why are they really afraid of you so much?" Could I possibly think a few months ago that I'd dare ask her a question like this?

"You see, Diana, you are very special. And not just because you can save me... If only you knew how sick and tired I am of seeing the mask of horror on the faces of people that enter this room! Just imagine: year after year, century after century new people would come in, bringing their suffocating terror with them. Though you were perfectly aware of who I was and what they said about me, you were the only one who had no fear. I should know since I have had plenty of time to study every shade and hue of it in people's eyes. From the very first minute, you disarmed me with your compassion." Moira wiped my tears and added, looking at me through those big, gentle eyes of hers. "Besides, you are a smart girl. The unusual circumstances of your life taught you to look further and see more than most. I have no patience for stupidity, and can be a little intense at times. Well, maybe more than a little... And yet, you can also be so naive!"

"What do you mean?"

"Only that you can't see the forest for the trees. Haven't you noticed how he looks at you, how he searches for your gaze and scent?"

"Scent?" I frowned.

"Oh, my dear, smells play such an important role in our lives! Our sense of smell is so much keener than with you humans... When he comes to see me, he touches the things you've touched, and sometimes even smiles. Well, maybe not as often as I would like him to..."

That Kristoff wanted me was no revelation. It wasn't like he had been trying to hide it. Why would he? I was nothing to him! I wondered how many of the other servant girls had gone through the same. None of them had shared anything of the kind, but would I have? As for prying and asking questions, I had no intention of doing it.

I remembered the blood-chilling grin I saw that night...

"Your brother never smiles!" I retorted vehemently.

"Well, maybe it's time... Even monsters are entitled to some happiness. Isn't that what you call him? We argued about you, and he started screaming, quoting you on this. Or am I wrong?"

I said nothing. She was right, of course. But who could he possibly be for me, except a monster that I couldn't hope to escape from? Still, I didn't want to upset Moira, so I searched for a more diplomatic way of expressing my thoughts.

"You know, Moira, you have become so important to me. I've never had anyone in my life before who had so much sympathy to offer. You are not just my friend. You are like a sister to me. No, wait, let me finish. I have no problem giving up my life for you. But your brother... please understand that I have always hated him! Ever since my childhood, he has brought only misery to my life! There's no two ways about it. That's why it is so difficult for me to realize that everything is so... so..."

"What, dear?"

"Complicated. So very, very complicated."

 

** ** **

Moira suggested I get a change of scenery to defuse the situation. I knew she was right. No matter how revolting the very idea of revisiting my past was, I badly needed it now. I just couldn't see anything else helping.

I anxiously awaited the next Saturday up and spent the night before it picking half-decent clothes and thinking nervously of whether I should see my old girlfriends. How to carry myself or what to tell them wasn't going to be a problem: I was visiting briefly from abroad and had to go back in a few days. The main issue was whether the pain of bringing back all those memories and getting to hear about the regular lives my old friends led was worth the effort. I knew it was going to hurt, big time. Nor did I want to go back to my parents' house, not yet anyway...

Already in bed and thinking of how I would spend the following day (day off, whoopee!), I heard footsteps on the ladder. I needed not worry--Kristoff never made a sound when moving.

Kyle's head emerged through the trap door--he brought me some food, something Kristoff usually did himself. Well, this was almost a holiday!

"What's with all the sneaking?" I smiled, teasing him. I was glad to see him. "Do you want me to go gray before my time?"

I was not very likely to live long enough to see my first gray hair. How was that for an upside down world? Normally, women dreaded the moment, and I couldn't stop dreaming about it...

"And ruin that beautiful head of hair? Never!" he picked up the joke. He put the tray on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of my bed. I took the energy bar, my regular favorite: nuts, dried fruit, honey and chocolate. It was one of my rare pleasures.

"You are so beautiful, Diana..." Kyle pensively ran his hand through my hair. His voice and his look in particular were so serious that, with me lying in bed in front of him, I wished the conversation was a little less intense.

Finishing the bar, I put the wrapper on the tray.

"Thank you."

"You have a bit of chocolate stuck over there," Kyle smiled.

"Where?"

"Here!" He kissed me on the lips--tenderly, sweetly... Then he leaned back, looking at me. The ball was in my park now.

He was giving me a choice. Like no one else, never before.

I smiled and drew him close by his collar. Kyle's eyes lit up with happiness.

With a passionate moan, his lips descended upon mine, but it was my own fervent response that came as a complete surprise to me. Maybe deep down inside I realized I was not likely to get another chance like this? Or was it not only passion that moved me? I was afraid to look for an answer, fearful that it could bring us both nothing but pain. This wasn't a dalliance for Kyle--I knew how he felt from the very beginning.

Clothes quickly shed, our bodies intertwined, burning each other. And, for the first time ever, it felt good! I was almost happy, almost alive! Still feeling the explosion of pleasure reverberating inside of me, I already wanted more... It seemed my moans filled the entire room with light!

"Get your hands off of her!" The moment the furious growl filled my ears, some inhuman force tore Kyle away from me and threw him down the trap door hole.

I was still in heaven, the ecstatic smile still on my lips--but vanishing, vanishing...

Kristoff, his hulk upright, towered over my naked body. A casual observer might have been fooled by his calm demeanor, but not me.

Barely off my high, growing increasingly aware of the look in his eyes, I jumped out of bed, grabbing the blanket to cover myself. A few quick steps back--into nowhere, anywhere he was not-- and my back got pressed firmly against the wall. The next moment, Kristoff was bearing down on me, getting so close that his opened dark coat was touching my skin. My back, flat against the wall, began hurting.

If looks could kill, I would have been long dead!

There was some noise downstairs: apparently, Kyle had sustained less damage than he could have. If only he didn't try to get back up! I was in no mortal danger, if only due to my blood being so valuable, but were his professional qualifications equally valuable to Kristoff? I was not so sure.

All of a sudden, the flame of my usual hatred flared up, enveloping the world outside. Just a few seconds before, I experienced total bliss with a man who like no other deserved to share it with me. And, yet again, Kristoff took it away from me!

"You can't just barge into my room any time you feel like it!" Those words seemed to drive him totally nuts, and the last of them came out when I was already dangling my feet in the air, trying in vain to wiggle out of his grip on my throat.

"If I see anyone here ever again, I will kill that scumbag! No matter who he is!!! Do you understand?!" he roared into my face.

I wished I could explain that I wanted him dead even more, way more, but I couldn't even breathe. Blinded by his fury, Kristoff squeezed my neck so hard it was unclear how it still remained in one piece. It was only when my face turned red and he realized I was suffocating that he eased his grip. My feet touched the floor and I took a spasmodic breath. Once, twice... As soon as I felt better, something Moira had said reemerged in my mind and I knew I had a great way of hurting him back.

"You are just pissed I chose someone else!" I wheezed out into his face, almost entirely obscured by the swarm of fireflies in my eyes.

He froze. His hand unclenched, and I slid down like a broken doll, coughing and wheezing, and enjoying every breath I took. Whooshing loudly, air entered my body, giving me strength. One more. And another one. Oh, ecstasy! In a few minutes, when I was finally able to see clearly and raise my eyes up his towering frame, Kristoff was totally calm.

"Such a fool you are!" His voice buzzed with contempt. "You think you are special?" He leaned in closely. "I have lived a long life, Diana, a very long life. You have no idea how many women I have known. I am so tired of your pettiness, your nitpicking, all of you... But you--you are the worst by far! After all the time I've spent with you, watching all your silly fears, your tears... How can you..."

I had no idea what he meant, but suddenly I knew he was going to hit me. I closed my eyes, pressing my back against the wall again. When I reopened them, the room was empty.

** ** **

After that incident, my liberty was altogether erased. I was at a loss: no one set a requirement that I remain chaste. On the other hand, I knew that sometimes servants paid with their lives even for the most insignificant of transgressions. Now, was rejecting the master and choosing another, albeit voluntary, servant, a small transgression or a major one? The situation afforded me a great opportunity to hone my black humor skills.

My workload around the house went up sharply, as did the amount of blood they drew from me daily. Not for a second did I have any doubts who was behind this development. Kristoff could not punish me as severely as he wanted. Sometimes I wondered that was good or bad. Increasingly, I wanted to end it all, and soon. In all likelihood, I would not have to wait long.

Moira was getting better and better: she now spent most of her time on her feet, away from the bed she must have been thoroughly sick of. A smile never left her lips, and centuries-old exhaustion on Jenob's face now made way for an unfamiliar feeling of quiet joy.

However, there was a back side to her recovery: life that filled Moira was leaving me.

Quite some time passed before I realized that I was not going to last long losing so much blood. In the past, which from the depths of my current abyss looked progressively more distant and unreal, I was always a fount of health, unlike many others. Now I was a mere shadow of my old self. Exhausted by the hardships of the previous few months, I grew pale and weak, and I lost my appetite, too. Chances are that wouldn't have happened had I continued eating all that crap they were giving me. But I lost the very will to live, and all the other bodily needs followed suit.

The way I ate now (or rather pretended to eat) at the laboratory couldn't escape Kyle's attention. I got to see him angry for the first time.

He tried to explain it to me that I was not going to last much longer that way. As if in a fog of slow motion, I watched his warm eyes flare, his lips (so sweet!) curl angrily and his hands (that caressed me so tenderly!) clench into fists...

At the very least, Kristoff could not take my memories away. That thought made me smile.

"... cannot go on like that, Diana!" Only the last of his words hit home.

"I know, Kyle, and I hope it won't. You see, I am so tired, so mortally tired... I want to go to bed and sleep, sleep, sleep. Or better yet... never to wake up at all." My lips barely moved. Detached from it all, I heard my own voice, though it did not seem like it at all.

Greatly concerned, Kyle was looking at me, his brows knitting together, until they came together at the bridge of his nose to form one long, unhappy straight line...

 

** ** **

I was almost asleep when I heard a knock on the trap door. My drowsiness melted away immediately, and my pulse shot up. The sound that gave me the choice of letting the visitor in--or not-- scared me silly, as it was now so unusual. Pulling myself together, I opened the trap door and saw Kyle. Focused and serious, he slid into the room, silently closed the trap door from the inside and immediately pulled me with him to a distant corner.

"Are you out of your mind?" Shaken to the core, I just couldn't regain my composure. "Don't you understand what's going to happen if Kristoff finds out? You have a death wish or something?"

What had happened between us did not seem to have any consequences for Kyle--if one didn't count multiple bruises and contusions from the fall. Kristoff never said a word to him, but every time they found themselves within eyeshot, Kristoff's monstrously heavy look never left the man. Kristoff never bothered (or couldn't?) conceal it, and I had a gut feeling it was not a good thing at all.

Disregarding my spirited protestations, Kyle turned my head to the dim light of the window, took me by the chin and frowned. Pale skin, bloodless lips, dark circles under dull eyes--I could see myself all too well through his eyes.

"Diana..." He paused, as if unsure of himself, caressing my cheek. "I want to save your life..."

I was sure he wanted to say something else, and I knew what it was. That was why there was no point wasting time on any more words.

His focus returned and he signaled me to be quiet. Then he started talking, quickly and quietly.

"For reasons beyond my control, they are going to start drawing way more blood from you daily. Yes, I know it's crazy. It's beyond anything reasonable as it is. I am truly amazed you are still holding it together. I just don't get their logic--what's the point of letting the 'precious medicine' run out completely?" His face frowned in a bout of rage. "If you start losing any more blood, you'll be gone in a month, tops." His grip on my arm tightened, his nails hurting my skin. "I am not going to let them do that!"

"But Kyle..."

"Listen to me, Diana! I have been around these creatures for years, and I know that the sense of smell is infinitely more important to them than eyesight is to us. Here, take this!" Hurriedly, he produced a vial of dark liquid from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. "This is something I developed myself. No one knows about it. This is something that can win you two hours, changing your odor and making you 'invisible' for them. You could slip away!" His eyes now burned with excitement. "I'll get you new papers and money, and you'll go somewhere far, far away and start a new life!"

It was all like a fairy tale... I kept listening, unable to believe that my long-suppressed, crazy and hopeless dreams of freedom could ever come true... But once I let them into my heart I felt what was left of my valuable blood bubble up. My eyes lit up, and life itself came back to me!

This sudden change couldn't escape Kyle's notice, and he smiled.

"But where am I going to go? And how? There are guards everywhere. Besides, they would still have their eyesight and hearing, right?" Questions kept piling up in my fervent mind.

"Go wherever you want, as long as I don't know where." He was serious as never before. It took me a few seconds to realize he was going to have to pay for my freedom.

"No, Kyle, I cannot do that! No! Don't you understand? I just can't!" Everything inside of me was screaming in pain.

My dream was dying a fast death. I was not ready to pay that kind of a price for it!

"Calm down, Diana! No, just listen to me, all right? If we don't give it a try, you are done..." He began whispering something else under his breath incoherently ("... and so am I," perhaps?) but cut himself short, all fury. "No, I am not going to let this happen! Listen, I won't just sit here and wait for them to kill me. As soon as I know you have escaped successfully, I will also flee. I promise."

"But... if you don't know where I am, how are you going to find me?" That was a painful question all right.

Kyle smiled and touched my cheek.

"I'm sure I will think of something!" His eyes caressed my face lovingly. "But even if I don't find you... I will be able to keep living knowing that you are alive."

"But how am I going to be able to escape if they are watching me day and night?"

My failed attempt to flee from my parents' house was all the proof I needed.

"They could be listening in even now!" The alarm went off in my mind, but it was a little too late.

"Don't worry... I took a few steps to make sure we had a chance to talk undisturbed. Think about it--would Kristoff allow us to keep talking otherwise?"

He was right. I just wanted to believe that Kyle's plan would fly under the radar. As it was, he was putting his life on the line, exposing himself to merciless vagaries of fate.

Hurriedly, he went on:

"The important thing for you would be to get out of here for a day or just a few hours. Tell them you want to visit your family, it shouldn't raise any suspicions. Remember, my substance needs about half an hour to take effect. Then, wherever you are, use it again, even if you don't seem to be in any immediate danger."

"How immediate?"

"Within fifty miles or so."

My eyes grew large and round. It was unbelievable!

"Yes, don't look so surprised. Their sense of smell is beyond any comparison. That's how they never miss their victims. You know they will be looking for you, but you have no idea what they are capable of! And I don't just mean the senses. What you've seen here is just the tip of the iceberg, Diana. This particular clan holds a dominant position not just in the human world, but also among their own ilk. They live way longer than just a few centuries and have so much power, resources and means that finding any human at all shouldn't be much of a problem for them. We may find it hard to believe, but they have entire armies of 'operatives' who collect food and track down their enemies. With that in mind, if if we are successful, it will be a true miracle!" He paused for a moment and added, under his breath: "It's just that we have no choice. We have to try, no matter what."

Indeed, there was little choice. It was only now that I realized how naive I was the first time I tried to escape--and how naive I was still, getting ready to do it again. And yet, I knew I was going to try.

Even if the miracle did happen, I would have to spend the rest of my life dug in a hole somewhere, barely breathing, trying to minimize my impact on the surrounding world. That was the life that awaited me if I were lucky. But at least there would be a life.

Now, there was just one issue remaining--the most difficult one of all.

"It is up to Kristoff whether I can leave the house or not," I told myself, frowning and biting my lip. "So how do I talk him into letting me go?"

"Well, think of something," Kyle whispered, barely audibly, and averted his eyes. "I've got to go, Diana."

"Kyle?" I had an entire night to think it all over. Now we only had time for the most important part. "I don't know if we can pull this off... but if we don't... I guess what I want to say is that you were the best thing that happened to me in my--"

He never let me finish. His mouth met mine in a tender kiss and his hands enveloped me, going all kinds of places, giving me a thrill of happiness. Kyle breathed my scent in deeply, as if trying to remember it.

I realized that he did not expect to be able to ever touch me again. He was saying goodbye.

"Don't forget to take a shower, my... love," he mumbled and left the room without looking back.

I spent half the night crying.

 

** ** **

I knew that Kristoff was spending a lot of time at his own wing, which had a huge pool, a gym equipped with exercise equipment most humans would find fairly strange, and a personal library.

Luckily, I had never had a chance to visit. The very idea of going to his lair of my own accord made me tremble all over. Now so much depended on how well I could play my role.

Opening one door after another, I kept going but found no one.

Thick, lightly colored carpet on the floor alternated with polished marble. Luxurious interior trim went extraordinarily well with the ascetic white of walls and ceilings. Nothing was out of place. Kristoff did in fact have impeccable taste, though it didn't surprise me in the least.

Standing in front of the last door, my legs about to buckle, I reminded myself of why I was there. "Freedom!" That word alone gave me strength to finally pull myself together and knock.

There was no answer.

With the new information I learned from Kyle, I was sure Kristoff knew who it was knocking on his door. Moreover, he should have been aware of my coming to see him the moment I entered the wing. Or maybe even when I just left my room?

I had to put a stop to that particular line of thinking, or I would be sure to succumb to panic. At the very least, he was none the wiser about the reason for my visit. I was sure of that.

Finding some solid ground in that latter thought, I peeked into the room.

"May I come in?"

"You are in already."

The first thing I noticed was how beautiful the room was. Harmonious proportions and the same kind of finish, which was both ascetic and luxurious at the same time, gave those well-lit premises a unique character. On the first floor, which was apparently designed for business, there was a huge table of polished black stone and a fireplace half a wall wide. A transparent staircase led to the second floor where the bedroom had to be.

Something totally unexpected broke from my lips:

"How beautiful!"

"Thank you," came the answer, just as unexpectedly. From an armchair by the window, Kristoff was looking at me with intense interest.

I kept my silence, listening to my heart race. That was good. Let him know how anxious I was.

"Kristoff..."

"Yes?"

"I wanted to make a request..."

"But of course! Why else would you be here?" It was unclear if he was being sarcastic or simply stating the obvious.

"It's been a long time, and I..."

"What?"

"... I'd like to see my parents, my brother and my sister."

"Anybody else?" he asked somewhere from behind, sounding mean. My heart picked up speed, but I mentally reminded myself of why I was here and why I couldn't afford to panic. I took a deep breath, turned around and found him standing much closer than I expected.

"Please, let me go see my parents!" My voice was soft, way too soft, even pleading. I steeled myself, afraid that I may have overdone it.

Kristoff kept looking at me with an air of pensive silence. I put my cards right on the table, and now that he knew I needed to get out of the house he could enjoy dragging his feet before making that important decision. For a second, I thought he saw right through me and had my naive plan all figured out, so now he was simply thinking of what particular kind of punishment to mete out.

But I was not going to give up so easily!

"Kristoff, most other servants have gone back home dozens of times during my service here, and I never got to go even once. I have been very lonely lately, like never before."

His nostrils flared and his lips quivered, and I knew right away I needed to drop that touchy subject.

"Even though my parents are the cause of all my misfortunes, I still want to go see them. Please!"

"But I know you hate them all. Why would you even want to see them?" he said after a long pause, his voice still dripping with sarcasm and suspicion.

"I miss my old life." Amazingly, I was now telling the truth. "I would never call it ideal... or even good... but at least I was free. Well, almost. Nobody ordered me around, or told me what to do, when to go to bed, how much to eat... Yes, I know it is all over, but it would be so good to go back, at least for a little while, and if not be free, then at least feel what it would be like, an illusion though it might be..."

It ached me to even think what I would be ready to go through to achieve that!

"Besides, I am not feeling well at all. I have given way too much blood lately, and I've done more work than anyone else. "Kyle says that..." Before I had a chance to finish the sentence I knew it was the ultimate faux pas, but it was too late.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?" The mask of indifference disappeared from Kristoff's face in a split second, yielding to extreme irritation.

"Why, when I was giving blood, of course. He said that at this rate of blood loss I did not have long to live. So I figured I might--"

"Poppycock!" Kristoff cut me abruptly, and rage flared up in his eyes. "There's been a special program developed for you that..." Now he cut himself short and frowned.

I had no idea why he suddenly needed to tell any tall tales, now that it was perfectly clear how it was all going to end. Regardless, I knew how I felt, and what my body was telling me.

However, at the moment I was mostly concerned about that tense look on Kristoff's face. I knew that in another moment my last chance to save myself would be gone forever. I could not let that happen!

Slowly, in one soft, fluid motion, I took his hand--intuitively, almost unsurprised at my spontaneous act, oblivious to any potential consequences... The periphery of my mind registered passively that his hand was so much colder than mine.

"Kristoff!" I looked him straight in the eye. "I am begging you, let me go see my family one last time! Please, I will do anything! I am not going to ask you for anything else."

Suddenly, for a brief, bright moment, for one fleeting heartbeat, I realized how much power I had over him! I was the master of his fate and..."

... and then he quickly withdrew his hand! The mirage was gone. I recalled right away that it was he who was my master, and I... I was a nobody. Then, as if in a daze, I heard my verdict.

"All right, I'll let you go. But you will go and come back with me. Next Saturday."

It worked! Now I had the chance I was prepared to do anything for! I could barely restrain myself from dancing a jig right there and then, and it took me a tremendous amount of effort to put out the happy shine in my eyes and wipe the triumphant smile off my lips. But was I successful enough?

"Thank you!" I was truly grateful. I almost forgot he was my enemy... yes, almost. "You can't imagine how much I need it!"

"Oh, I am sure I can," his eyes, drilling my face, had a curious mixture of sympathy and contempt in them. "At the very least, I could take a wild guess."

 

** ** **

For the rest of the week, I tried to hide my joy from others. It wasn't easy. It seemed rays of hope were making their way from the inside out, surrounding me with a shining halo. I did everything I could to maintain the drab mask of exhaustion on my face and the notes of indifference in my voice. Amazingly, I even felt so much better! It was as if my body tapped some previously unknown reserves of strength that remained dormant, awaiting the signal for an all-out charge.

Inspired by my success, I didn't even notice at first that all of a sudden my workload went down drastically. Who could have thought? Could it be that I somehow managed to cut through the thick of his cold cruelty? Still, it would be stupid to make too much out of it yet.

Now my primary concern shifted to Moira, or rather what would happen to her once I fled. Was her recovery irreversible, or was my disappearance going to cause her to wilt again? In my entire life I had never felt such a connection to anyone else. Despite everything, I loved her as if she were my sister. For that reason, I asked Kyle to draw still more blood from me to put into storage. The special chamber they used to freeze the leftover blood was almost full. I wanted to believe that it would be enough to help her recover completely. Kyle wasn't particularly happy about it, but seeing my shining eyes and the tinge of pink on my cheeks, he did as I asked him.

Naturally, shrewd Moira couldn't help but notice something was up.

"Aren't you afraid, Diana, of me putting two and two together?"

For a moment, for the first time ever, I became really scared in her presence.

But then I looked into her knowing eyes, and the fear subsided.

"You know, Moira, I can't be afraid of you because I love you. You are the only person I can be myself with, without having to hide or play games. So it must be for a reason that it's you, and you alone, who noticed anything." I smiled and shook my head. I knew she was not going to give me up.

And then the all-powerful, immortal Moira put her arms around me, like the child she was, and buried her face in my hair. A happy sigh escaped her lips. Oh my, what was I going to do without her?

"I wish we could always be together," I whispered. She looked me in the eye.

"Really?" Her breaking voice was thin and girlish.

"Yes," I told her the truth. As always.

 

** ** **

I was waiting for Kristoff to come, and just like before, in my near-forgotten past life, his arrival was going to change everything.

It was autumn when I had left my parents' home, and the foul weather reflected my disconsolate inner state perfectly. And now, the riot of spring outside tormented me even more! There was a scent of freedom in the air that reminded me of everything I was deprived of. I felt like a bird returning home from wintering grounds, and there was no holding me back.

It was as if my old self had never existed--that naive young girl who was sure there could be nothing worse than the truly asinine trouble she always got herself into. These days, the life of luxury seemed like a distant childhood dream. I had changed so much since then that I saw myself as a totally different person, though I wasn't quite sure whether it was a good thing or bad.

A screech of the brakes interrupted my transitory thoughts as Kristoff pulled up right next to me. I wanted to get in the back but he opened the front passenger door for me, signaling me with his eyes to get in. I quickly did as he told me.

Well, he wasn't going to be able to tell me what to do for much longer. All by themselves, my lips spread into a slight grin.

He gave me a long stare, but I had already reigned in all my undue gloating and was now fingering my half-empty purse, checking if everything was there. It was: money, new documents, and Kyle's potion, carefully sealed and treated in an airtight bottle of perfume so that Kristoff wouldn't suspect anything, and a handful of jingling tchotchkes thrown in to throw him off the trail.

 

Kristoff slowed down. Right away, I recognized the solid shape of my parents' house, the spacious driveway and parking area in front, and the huge garden that from afar let the visitor know what a great top banana the owner of all these magnificent riches had to be.

Having spent so many years in that house and that garden, I should have probably burst into tears or something, but the cold resolve I felt inside was not particularly conducive to emotional outbursts.

I could tell that today would change everything.

The car stopped at the edge of the yard without going any further, and Kristoff turned to me abruptly. His sharp gaze was searching for any chinks in the armor of my composure.

"I know you are up to something, Diana, so let me remind you again in case you forgot: you cannot run from us. But most importantly, you will never be able to run away from me! I will always be close, always watching. You have one hour. Not a minute more. If you as much as try to step outside your house, I will consider it an attempt to escape, and I promise you will be very sorry. Understood?"

"This isn't my house," I said with conviction. Like never before, I was fully aware that today was the day I would go free--or die!

I watched him drive away, his gaze grabbing at me until the very last moment, and only then turned to face the house where I spent eighteen years of my life, and where I had been so unhappy.

Hello, my dear prison! Hello, recalcitrance and defiance!

I've missed you...

 

** ** **

From my very first steps, the servants' curious looks followed me everywhere. Apparently, the myth surrounding my departure was now crumbling before their very eyes. Even though servants at my parents' house were rotated regularly to try to conceal what was happening to me, the story could not possibly be kept in the dark in its entirety. Terrifying whispers would be passed along about a strange man visiting the owners' daughter year in, year out.

"Diana, oh my Diana!" My mother's breaking scream filled the hall. She was running down the stairs, fitfully grabbing at the railing, as if unsure of her own legs. The tone of her voice saying my name was unlike any I've heard before.

She embraced me tightly--something she hadn't done once in her life. Tears poured down her face--the face of a woman that, on the face of it, had always been indifferent to me.

All of a sudden, I knew I was also glad to see her, and smiled.

"The heavens answered my prayers--you are alive! Oh, dear, please forgive us!"

My father appeared in the doorway, a look of sheer confusion on his pale face. I could see he had aged considerably: his hair, once lush and ample, now thinning awfully and full of indeterminate gray, his eyes bleak, the corners of his mouth sporting deep, bitter wrinkles. Nothing at all was left of his former commanding presence. Before me stood an old man, unfortunate to survive the worst of all woes possible--the death of a beloved child. My death.

Did they only let love enter their hearts after losing me, or had I really been blind all those years?

Unfortunately, there was no time to waste ruminating. I simply walked up to him and let him hug me, and we stood that way for a while--silently. Tears or excuses would be superfluous.

"I only have an hour," I told them and put my finger to my lips bidding them to be silent. Then I used the pen and notepad on the table in front of me to scribble a quick note. "In fact, I only have ten minutes," it ran. "Then you need to leave me alone, and don't let anyone bother me. I will then leave through the back door. Dad, I need money, please, and the key to the servants' car. Please destroy the note right away."

His long look left no doubt in my mind that he understood everything. Naturally, by helping me with my plan they would be putting themselves at a serious risk. The two of them exchanged knowing looks and my father nodded:

"There's so little time..."

"It's good we have any at all," I replied with a bitter smile.

He gave me another nod and stepped out of the room.

Mother and I stood there a while, locked in a sincere embrace. Her eyes shone with hundreds of questions she wanted to ask, but instead she only caressed my face, my hair and my face, as if trying to absorb her daughter's new, very different looks.

Father came back in a few minutes with a small package, carefully wrapped in a plastic bag. It seemed that he knew more than I thought he would.

"I think I'd like to go up to my room now," I said. There was not a minute to waste.

"Of course, my dear," mother said, tears in her eyes. She hugged me tightly and kissed me one more time, and then let father take his turn.

"Good luck," he articulated silently.

I nodded at them and raced up to the room where I had spent my childhood. Shutting the door, I took out my "perfume" and liberally sprayed my face, hair and clothes. Now was not the time to be stingy.

Waiting for the potion to take effect, I ran my eyes around the room.

It looked as if I had left only yesterday. My favorite dolls sat in their regular places high up on the shelves. School supplies occupied half the desk, lined up in usual neat piles or stacks. Jewelry boxes crowded themselves out near the mirror where I always kept them. I recalled how much I missed them and smiled--it all looked so silly now. Today, my luggage consisted of the clothes on my back and the money Kyle and my father had given me. But even though those thick wads of cash weighed my purse down, I was going to find a job right away, well aware of how quickly and drastically things could change. I wasn't afraid of work any more. The time I spent at Kristoff's house did away completely with the spoiled teen I used to be, and I now knew I'd be able to survive anywhere.

There was one thing left to do. I took a sheet of paper from the desk and wrote in large letters right in the middle:

"If you find me, then it's fate, but if you don't, then I'm free. Please don't take it out on my parents. They had nothing to do with my escape."

I wanted to believe my crazy feat was not going to backfire on them.

I left my room without looking back. I had no regrets about leaving my past behind. I did not meet anyone on the way to the back room and, smiling slightly, slid outside.

I figured it would feel great driving past Kristoff and waving him goodbye, but I was not going to tease fate. Leaving my parents' estate through the back gate, I sped up a narrow forest road.

No one gave chase--I knew it even without checking the rear view mirror. Every new breath I took filled me with even more freedom, and soon I was drunk with euphoria.

I didn't want to think of what would happen if he found me. That would be crazy. I wasn't crazy--I was just your regular rebel.

 

Part Two

 

** ** **

Once I was certain you could not call living in permanent fear a life. Yet circumstances often make us change our views in a fairly drastic manner. I had lived in that particular fashion for quite some time now, and my life was permeated with fear. I was afraid of falling asleep because that made me totally helpless. I was afraid of waking up and seeing him. I was always afraid...

Still, I lived. I have lived in fear for over two years now. Then again, maybe I have always lived that way...

 

** ** **

"Have you made your selection yet, miss?"

The plump salesgirl gave me a meaningful look. I was her last customer, and apparently she was anxious to get rid of me as soon as possible so that she could go home early.

"Another couple of minutes," I nodded at the clock above the entry door. There was still plenty of time before closing. The lady sighed unhappily and picked up a book--unmistakably, a romance novel, judging by the passionately kissing couple on the well-thumbed cover.

In the grand scheme of things, I couldn't care less what she thought of her "pesky" customer, or made of my melancholic look. I was very fond of this place--a small bookstore with old library shelves, in the thick of which I somehow always managed to hide from merciless reality.

But not today.

Luckily, the book the salesgirl was reading seemed to be very engrossing, and she missed the moment when I froze, looking at the magazine in my hands, unable to take my eyes off it. Heck, I even stopped breathing.

From the glossy cover, a picture of smiling Kristoff looked back at me, revealing his dangerous teeth in all their splendor. "Person of the Year!" ran the fancy sign at the bottom. "Exclusive interview on page..." It was a ritzy lifestyle publication--good paper, high quality print and all that. Naturally, nothing but the best for such a celebrity. His friendly demeanor that projected accessibility and benevolence concealed his true nature of a modern slave owner, cruel tyrant and murderer amazingly well.

In the two years that passed I should have been able to free myself of his power over me, but once I caught a glimpse of his face again all those buried, suppressed memories came rushing back, totally overwhelming me.

My pain, ultimate exhaustion, disgust, hatred of him, forced submission, worry about Kyle and Moira--all that, spiced up with plentiful fear, made for one heck of an explosive mix. My priceless blood rushed through my veins, bubbling with forgotten emotions.

"It's closing time, miss!" The salesgirl's annoyed voice rang right above my ear. "Did you make up your mind?"

As if in a fog, I paid and left, only then realizing that instead of the book I had come for I only bought that wretched magazine. My first impulse was to trash it, but common sense prevailed: one needed to know as much as possible about the enemy.

Instead of some cozy bedtime reading, I spent the entire evening at my desk, straight as a ruler, rereading that stupid interview time and again and obsessively drilling the photo of Kristoff with my eyes.

As could be expected, I had terrible nightmares all night long.

 

** ** **

The drab little town in a neighboring country where I hid from my past did perfectly fine without the breakneck pace of large metropolitan areas. Superhighways and giant malls gave it a wide berth, there were few cars on the streets, and most of the noise outside was produced by birds. Locals knew each other by first name and were never in a hurry. The town drowned in greenery and sleepy quiet.

All of that was so drastically different from my past life and the crazy, inhuman stress of the previous months that I spent my first few weeks there in a kind of stupor, staying at a local hotel and hardly ever leaving my room.

When the lethargy finally lifted, I bought a tiny house and a used car in good condition, spending far less money than I expected. The house, dirty and neglected, brought me back to earth for good, and as I was setting it right I was making plans to buy other basics.

The unfamiliar local speak could be a problem for some, but our wealthy family had always been big on teaching children foreign languages from the earliest age. Besides, there were few if any cultural differences. All that helped me adapt fairly quickly.

Using my new identity, I got me a teaching job at the local elementary school. Luckily, since no one really wanted to live in the boondocks, they had a serious staffing problem and made no issue of my young age and lack of experience.

There were few children in town, but to my amazement I hit it off with my pupils really well. Besides, explaining simple things to youngsters proved to be much less taxing than I had expected. Little by little, my life in a new place was coming together.

The most serious--and unexpected--problem I faced in the first few months was an abundance of free time. I would normally be back home by 2 pm, having no idea what to do with myself for the rest of the day. However, even in that backwater of mine, I soon found a fairly decent bookstore and quickly became an avid reader--something I could never understand in people before and found unbelievably boring.

But my primary joy was the house--my house. At first, I did not realize the importance of finally having a place where I was to make all the decisions myself. Having never had that luxury before, I would now begin smiling and humming the moment I closed the door behind me, leaving the rest of the world outside.

Yes, I now had my own house on a hill, books, coffee that I loved and that I had to go to a neighboring town to buy, and a wooden mug that I picked up at a local craft show, seemingly tailor-made for my kitchen counter. I had a warm bed by the window that I would sit on at night and watch the stars in the dark, thinking of that carefree girl I used to be so recently... and so long ago.

Sometimes I would recall him who I was hiding from in this dull little town. I often imagined yet another victim next to him--mesmerized, unable to take her admiring eyes off of him, a bouquet of dead red roses in her hands. The cold, distant indifference in his eyes would be sure to cause her plenty of suffering throughout her short life.

It was only in my sleep that the barriers that I had so skillfully erected around painful memories would often come down. Every time I thought that my new life took over completely, I would see Kyle in my dreams. Sometimes we were making love, and his taste and smell were so real as he whispered "Diana, my love..." into my ear, and the world exploded in a paroxysm of pleasure! Sometimes, he would look for me right there, in the house, his dear face distorted with pain, and his sorrowful moan, "Diana, my love!", would make my aching heart race. Overcoming my sleep, I would rush to embrace him, only to find an empty void... and to open my eyes on a wet pillow.

He never did find me--neither in life, nor in my dreams.

I kept telling myself that two years was nothing, that it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack than a person in the huge world outside when you didn't know where to look. But who was I kidding? Deep down inside, I understood it too well that the real reason was different: having done everything to help me save myself, he found himself unable to escape Kristoff's revenge, an outcome that the monster's dark eyes all but guaranteed. In my heart of hearts, where I could not hide from the bare truth, I knew I would never see Kyle again, never relax in the protective ring of his arms or partake of his warmth.

He would visit me in my dreams less and less often...

I did the right thing, spending days, weeks and months in the nondescript countryside, socializing with no one, keeping my emotions to myself, living quietly, very quietly...

Yet, one mistake I did make--and what an outrageous mistake that was! I told myself he would never find me.

 

** ** **

It all started on a regular summer day when Natalie, a homeroom teacher from another class, stopped by for tea and suggested we go listen to a concert together in a nearby town. In my mind's eye, her wide face with its cute freckles and a somewhat large mouth stood in stark contrast to the refined image of my sister, her namesake. Not that Natalie the teacher was in any way inferior to Natalie Snowe, but she was so... ordinary. Ordinary means safe, I reasoned and agreed to give her a lift.

The night before, picking up clothes for the upcoming trip, I looked at myself in the mirror and my heart warmed up: I looked so good in my best outfit, an embroidered top with matching pants and elegant high-heeled open toes. Then I caught the look in my own eyes and frowned.

"Why? Why bother dressing up if you are doomed to be alone?" I asked that suddenly unsmiling queen of hearts.

"Because I am still alive!" said the girl in the mirror and stuck her tongue out at me.

In the morning, I awoke to a nasty rattle: the loose glass pane in my old front door was no match for the energetic Natalie who was doing her damnedest to gain access. I looked at the clock and moaned: just past six. Sleepy and angry, I got up and dragged myself to open the door. Natalie squeezed right past me and rushed straight to the kitchen.

"No offense, but what are you even doing here so early?" I was not in the best of moods.

"What do you mean? The trip, remember?" He naive eyes went big and round.

What did I even want with that girl to begin with? Now she was going to be a major pain in the neck!

"Oh, you are so foolish, Natalie! What's the matter with you? That concert of yours, it's in the afternoon!"

But the simpleminded Natalie was already putting water on for coffee. Well, it's not like I had any choice now. I plodded along to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed.

Soon enough, having had a bite to eat, we were getting into the car.

It wasn't what I'd call a pleasant trip, and time and again I wished I had turned her down. At first, the indomitable Natalie took a while extolling the virtues of some unremarkable hobby of hers, and then switched to the subject of her harebrained nephew who just loved eating bugs to shock everyone around. But nothing lasts forever, and in the end she did shut up. A blessed silence finally set in.

Next time, I told myself, think twice! No, better make it three times, before agreeing to anything.

Of course it was a stupid thing to do! I shouldn't have left my safe haven. Being out there, I felt as if I were naked.

Thus I was flagellating myself as the highway dragged on and endless trees on the roadside flickered by. Eventually, I relaxed.

The city that the wretched concert was about to take place in reminded me of the metro area near which my parents lived. It had nothing in common with the sleepy hollow I now called home, and the vibrant activity all around caught me unawares. Traffic became heavy and now required my undivided attention.

Leaving the car at a parking lot nearby, we found a cafe and stayed there for some two hours, until it was time to head over to the concert. It wouldn't have been so bad if the band had turned out to be worth the time and effort, but it was a complete waste, just like the entire idiotic trip.

To add insult to injury, dazzled by the lights of the big city, Natalie picked up some suspicious-looking character who spirited her away on a date at once. I had to wait for them to have their fill of each other since, unfortunately, Natalie had no other way of getting back home.

Sitting it out in the car didn't look like a particularly alluring choice, so I went for a walk.

It could be expected that I would feel perfectly at ease finding myself among the sounds and smells I knew from my early age, but neither the bright lights nor the stores I browsed casually brought me any joy. I was different now, and that different me sought calm and quiet instead.

At the edge of a nearby park, there was a small restaurant with a few tables set up right on the lawn. With a bunch of tall trees separating the cozy nook from the noise of the city, I figured it would be as good a place as any to kill the time. There was a candle in a jar on every table, and the flickering flashes gleamed upon the faces of a couple of lovebirds at a secluded table, casting them in a somewhat ghostly light. That, I figured, was what true love had to look like.

I took the corner table and ordered a cup of hot chocolate. Waiting for it to come, I followed the passersby casually with my eyes, trying to discern what worries or concerns they might have. Sadness, loneliness, happiness, anger and cunning--they were all out there in our world. That simple thought gave me hope that I may just be able to get lost in the ocean of passion around me, that Kristoff would eventually forget me, and that maybe, some time when I grew old, I'd be able to finally come back home.

Except why would I even bother. Was anyone waiting for me there?

"Feeling blue?" The voice had not a flirtatious note in it. The thirtyish man that took a seat at my table, uninvited, had dark curly hair and a carefully cultivated stubble. Something about him seemed familiar. I looked into his eyes...

"Come with me!"

And I did. He took me by the hand, and I looked and looked, unable to take my eyes off his beautiful face. I felt my lips spreading into a smile. It was a moment of perfect happiness, unbounded euphoria! We only took a few steps, but we could be walking forever and I was not in the least afraid of him. I trusted that man completely.

Stop! Screamed a voice in my mind, breaking the silent obsession. Stop! You are walking to your death!

"Stop..." I said, hesitantly, still smiling like I had lost my mind. "Stop! Will you please stop!"

The stranger appeared to be shocked. He was barely holding my hand before, but now, all of a sudden, I felt such sharp pain that I wondered if my bones were all still intact.

"Resisting, huh?" he asked, surprised, and then added in the same soft hypnotic tone, "Come with me!"

But my will had already overcome the power of his command, and I tried to twist myself free. But it was no use--his cold hands kept me restrained like iron manacles.

All of a sudden, I knew... and shook with laughter! He kept looking at me like he couldn't believe it, and I was just roaring with glee. No, really, barely had I stuck my head out of my hole for the first time in two years, and here I was, in this kind of predicament! We were drawing curious looks from the restaurant's patrons and passersby, and my laughter acquired a progressively more hysterical tone to it. Just as a hypothetical, what would they do if my unexpected reaction caused him to have a nervous breakdown? Slap his cheeks? Give him some smelling salts?

It was really funny... and absolutely terrifying.

A wave of some debilitating come-what-may state of mind suddenly swept over me, and, still chuckling nervously, I told him, as if chiding a misbehaving youngster:

"If you don't let me go, I'll scream!"

"Suit yourself," he said, quite firmly, though still looking puzzled.

I smiled broadly and saw that he had finally pulled himself together, his eyes now burning with anger.

"You are not getting it, are you? I am going to scream out loud who and what you are. Naturally, no one is going to believe me, but it sure will get their attention, don't you think?" I was surprised how calm and assured my voice was.

The stranger let go of my poor hand.

Nothing but long sleeves for me for the next week, a thought flashed in my mind, as out of place at the moment as could possibly be.

Still, he clearly wasn't ready to give up. Without a doubt, he was from a higher caste, and those normally had plenty of servants at their disposal to fetch them food. That he followed me in person only meant that he was doing it for fun. I didn't think it likely that he would just abandon his hunt.

"Who are you?"

Strangely enough, I found it difficult to answer that question.

"I don't know... Someone dead, I guess."

A step. Another one. And another one. Slowly, I was backing away while he kept his inquisitor's eyes on me. Getting lost in the crowd, I went right into my purse, searching for the "perfume" I never ever left home without. Then I went on a long race around town, running in circles, leaping out of the crowd and onto trains and buses, and then back, eager for the safety of numbers. Numb with tension, I lost all track of time.

When I finally decided I had thrown him off my trail (if that was at all possible) and came back to the car, Natalie was already waiting for me at the parking lot, a bit under the influence but otherwise perfectly happy with how the day had panned out.

Whatever her thoughts on the matter, I knew I had more than enough adventure for one day.

 

** ** **

Fear tends to grow if you stoke it every once in a while.

Over a month had passed since that near-fatal trip, and the new school year started. I was back to teaching my little ones, and the familiar routine took over my daily existence: school, home, books, stars in the sky--and then the cycle repeated itself, over and over again. Still, everything was different. My recently-found world of peace had begun to crumble...

At first sight, there wasn't much to worry about. Simple logic suggested that had that thrill seeker managed to stay on my trail, I would have been dead already. On the other hand, had he truly been a bloodhound looking for me, he who had set him on my trail would have by now had me back in that hateful prison of his house.

Regardless, I began losing sleep. Bouts of insomnia filled with terrifying ruminations gave way to nightmares that left me totally drained and exhausted. My favorite things and activities stopped being fun.

Every day, my anxious anticipation took an ever greater toll.

I would go to work with a chronic and suddenly familiar sleep debt. The realization that I should have bought a house in a somewhat more populated area came and went. It wasn't like anything could be done about it now.

It was all the more difficult to stay in control while feeling perennially tired. Once, on my way to school, I felt like I had some annoying bug crawling all over me, tickling my neck, cheek and behind my ear. In the end, it appeared to have crawled its way into the cut of my blouse. I wore myself out completely trying to brush that bugger off. Besides, the street I was walking down annoyed the heck out of me, and I was constantly looking around, like some amateur spy in a straight-to-video thriller. It must have looked really silly, because a man in a light-colored raincoat that was walking my way gave me a sly grin. To top off this new paranoia of mine, the man seemed somewhat familiar, only I couldn't make out anything except for his scary carnal smile. It was the kind of smile the local men often gave me, so I got angry with myself for succumbing to my fears.

As I entered the school building, at first I could not quite understand the reason for the commotion next to my classroom. Girls exchanged whispers and knowing looks, with occasional stares thrown my way. An elderly teacher stuck her head out of a nearby classroom, giving me a sharp eye. What on earth was the matter with them all?

I pulled the door of my classroom and froze, unable to move any further. A huge bouquet of red roses was taking up my entire desk. Humongous, half-opened buds the color of venous blood sat atop long, spiky stems. Unimaginably fresh, they seemed lifeless. Though I knew such flowers had no smell, I took a deep breath and the odor of funereal decay filled my lungs.

"Oh, my, Diana, look! They are such beautiful flowers!" huffed and puffed the enthusiastic Natalie that had somehow made her way past me into the classroom. Then her voice changed. "Hey, you all right? Someone, help! Get me some water! She's going to faint!"

As her face kept growing larger on me, someone hit the mute button as her mouth kept screaming something I couldn't hear, then became obscured by a veil of total darkness.

I came to at the nurse's office. I was so pale the nurse suggested I go to the hospital, but I waved her off. Like that could help! Like anything else could help me now!

The school day went by as if in a haze, and I barely noticed anything around. I asked Natalie to remove that wretched bouquet from my room, feeding her some marginally coherent line about allergy to roses and an annoying admirer. I couldn't care less if she believed it or not.

It would really be stupid to delay the inevitable, so once school was over I picked up my things and went home.

On the way, I was thinking that every step brought me closer to death. There was no doubt in my mind that Kristoff was waiting for me at home. The real issue was whether Moira still needed me. My memory brought up the image of a certain supposedly abandoned factory that looked surprisingly modern inside.

Getting to the house, I stood on the porch for a moment, took a deep breath and opened the door, resigned to my fate. The glass pane rattled, sending its sorrowful vibes deep into the rooms.

"I know that you are here. There's no need to hide." My voice, though quiet, was firm. "Let's be done with this. I am tired of being afraid of you."

There was not a sound. It was an overcast day, and deep shadows lay in the corners. He could hide in any of them easily. I heard no rustle or breathing but I could feel he was there, staying out of sight for the time being. It would be no use running or calling for help. There was not a place in the world where I could find refuge from him, nor a person who could protect me.

So, with no answer forthcoming, I headed to the kitchen and simply began making dinner.

It was a very strange day. I went about my regular business that did not matter any longer at all since it concerned the future, of which I had none left. I did laundry, checked homework, watered plants. As I was doing it, I felt his look on me the whole time.

Through the day, no one said a word.

At night, surprised to have made it thus far, I went to bed and decided to dream a little with my eyes closed. I imagined that it was our mailman, a senior that turned tomato-red every time he saw me, who had been saving for a month to buy me that bouquet, or maybe it was a joint effort by the older high school boys that fought each other for the honor of opening doors for me. I imagined that there were no strangers in my house, that I was all alone and safe... or at the very least that I had gone crazy.

In the morning, I headed back to work. My body went through the motions with no input from my mind whatsoever. Still, I could feel his presence everywhere: in the bathroom in the morning, on the street next to me, during breaks, behind me when I stood by the window...

The day flew by, and here I was again, going back home in the company of my neighbors' girl who went to the same school. Her name never registered in my memory, but it never stopped us from having frequent lively conversations on the way from school. Today too, I hoped that the little girl's cute face and vibrant voice would help ease the strain of my unbearable situation.

"Where did you come from?"

"I used to live in a different country, in a large city..."

"So why did you come here?"

"Why?" whispered the bushes on my right. I shuddered, shooting an involuntary glance that way.

"Did someone hurt you?" Big girl that she was at the ripe age of nine, my companion figured it all out, and her eyes lit up with a true woman's curiosity. "The man you loved, right?"

"Well, not exactly... Do you know what freedom is?"

Not that she was old enough to understand that, I still felt like I wanted to let it out.

"Believe me, it is something that's very important for everyone. See, ordinarily, you don't even notice your breathing, but when all of a sudden you cannot breathe you realize it is the most important thing. Same thing with freedom. I didn't have any, and I left so that no one could ever tell me how to live my life."

"That person you left behind, he must be really missing you!"

"Missing, missing, missing..." the whispering echo picked it up again.

"I doubt it," I mumbled, somewhat at a loss. This wasn't the smartest of suggestions.

Saying goodbye to her, I turned towards my house. From afar, I could see something white on the doormat. My walking slowed down all by itself and then I was looking hopelessly at a snow-white envelope. There was no address. Slowly, I bent down to pick it up and, with my hands trembling, took a piece of expensive cardstock paper out of that unsealed envelope. My heart skipped a beat painfully.

There were only three words in the center: "It's fate."

 

** ** **

"If you find me, then it's fate..."

I wrote that myself! Silly me, I believed I was running away once and for all...

I closed my eyes and listened to the silence inside my home. It would be the last day I could call it all my own--those cozy nights by the window, my favorite wooden mug, staying in my warm bed on weekends for as long as I felt like it, the rattle of rain on the roof, the solid feel of the walls. My peaceful little world was crumbling, one tasty morsel after another...

My hatred of Kristoff began bleeding again, like an old wound being mercilessly gnawed at.

"No! Do you hear me? Never!" My fury was too unbridled for words, and as my peripheral vision caught a flicker of movement I grabbed at the nearest chair and hurled it vehemently that way. It hit the mirror in the hall, and shards of broken glass fell to the floor with a sad jingle, spraying flashes of sunlight all over the room, every shard reflecting my rage manifest.

"Not in a million years!!!"

I rushed up the stairs to the bedroom and plucked out from under the bed the dusty suitcase I once bought on sale (I even remembered telling myself back then I was never going to need it). Throwing my things into it wholesale, I kept mumbling angrily:

"Never! Not in a million years!"

In a few minutes, the chaotic pile in the middle of the bedroom covered the damn suitcase completely. The latches on the cover barely caught, with the entrails of sleeves and pant legs sticking out here and there.

"Never! Never! Never!"

I pulled the heavy suitcase to the edge of the staircase. As I took a step down, it slipped out of my hands and went down, bouncing, and then the locks gave way and my things flew all over the room. My hands trembling, I rushed to pick them up, but with every new moment my hectic movements were getting slower and slower until they died down completely, and I froze on my knees, my eyes focused on some distant spot ahead.

It was no use. He was here, and I could not run away.

Tears finally broke through the dam of my earlier resolve. I was so weak, so blinded by the salty foam in my eyes that I barely made it to the nearest armchair, skimming across the floor on my knees. Spasms of endless sobs rattled my body...

I could not run away. All I could do was bemoan my fate...

 

** ** **

A familiar cool breath enveloped me whole, as heavy oblivion receded gradually with every new heartbeat. Not quite awake yet, I knew there was someone else in the room with me. I was absolutely certain of that, but still couldn't make myself open my eyes and look death in the face.

"I didn't believe you would find me," I whispered, my voice hoarse with tears.

For a moment, there was silence. And then:

"Well, I did."

It was only then that I straightened up in the armchair, eyes wide open. Only then did I truly believe he was here! My poor heart, racing madly, screamed he was here!

"Are you scared?" Standing by the opposite wall, Kristoff was his old well-groomed, confident and insolent self--the visage that had been turning my dreams into nightmares all that time. In a moment, he squatted by my side, holding my eyes with his own. His face was at peace.

I could not take my eyes off his hand that was slowly, too slowly given his natural ability, bearing down on me. The memory of dangling off that hand up under the ceiling, gasping for breath, surfaced in my mind so vividly that I snapped my eyes shut, expecting some excruciating torture.

But he only caressed my cheek gently. Without even looking at Kristoff, I knew he was smiling. Watching me squirm had to be very amusing.

It was indeed!

"Diana," he whispered softly, "are you afraid of me?"

Could it be that he simply felt bored without my fear? Maybe all he was missing was the drum roll of my heart that became all too clear every time he came close? Or did he crave his favorite plaything--the wretched pale servant, half-dead of exhaustion and blood loss? Could be that time had really come to see what the true limit to her endurance was.

But I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction!

"Why don't you just get on with what you came to do, Kristoff? What's all this beating around the bush?" I just couldn't take any more of that uncertainty. It was sheer torture.

"What do you think I came to do?" he asked from somewhere in the back.

I never dared turn around to where the voice had come from.

"Why do you think I came to this godforsaken little town that a certain young lady who used to have dozens of servants at her disposal now feels right at home in?"

That came out almost like a rebuke, and I jumped, forgetting all my fear and turning to face him.

"Two years ago," I spat through clenched teeth, "that lady was a servant herself and often had to make do with three hours of sleep a night so that her master could stroke his ego!"

My voice, now ringing with the pain and suffering of the past years, was getting stronger.

"I've been waiting to see you again, Kristoff! I tried to placate myself, feeding myself fairy tales about how you'd never find me, but deep down inside I knew I could never hide from you. Now you are here and I say enough! Let's end it here! Stop tormenting me! Just do what you came to do: kill me, eat me, throw me to your dogs! Do what you want! Just do it fast--I cannot live like this any longer!"

In response, there was silence.

"No? Then let me go!" I rushed to the door but barely managed to make three steps before his hand caught me. Still trying to break free of his grip (even as I knew it was no use), I raised my eyes to him, expecting to see a triumphant grin, but found a very sincere gaze.

"I am not going to let anyone interfere with my plans! That includes you, Diana." There was no threat in his voice, just a plain statement of fact. "You are going to leave when I let you--which means never!"

It seemed like his words threw a switch in me, depriving me of any will to resist, and I went limp in his arms, all hope gone. Suddenly, an anxious thought struck me. But of course!

"Moira... is she all right?" My voice was trembling with concern. That's why they had been looking for me so long! The blood supply ran out!

A painful spasm clenched my heart... for the both of us.

"She's all right, all things considered." A strange smile on his lips, Kristoff was watching me with genuine interest.

That was the moment I realized how close he was, practically holding me in his arms. With every second, his fingers dug into my skin deeper and deeper, and I immediately felt like putting some distance between us. Unlike with my other attempts at breaking free, this one was successful. Kristoff let go of me right away, and I took a step back.

I was not getting it.

"Then why? What do you need me for?"

He kept his silence, and I recalled his other smile--the wild one in the moonlight... I shook my head, saying no to that kind of a future.

"I have changed, Kristoff... Do you hear me? I will never be the same again! I will not be your servant. And I will not be afraid of you either!"

Every word I said rang true! I understood that I'd never go back to the humiliation and subservience of the past, even if it meant I was not going to see another sunrise.

"And if you try to do what you did before..."

His tense look told me in no ambiguous terms he understood what I meant.

"...I will kill myself!" And that was no empty threat.

Suddenly, his calm demeanor was gone, all done and over with, and a grimace of fury distorted his face. His voice also became unrecognizable. In a nutshell, the indomitable beast dispensed with any pretense at a humane facade.

"That's where you are wrong, Diana! It will all be as before--if I want it! I will always be able to enter your room as I see fit. I do not need your permission!"

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Within seconds, Kristoff was in full control of himself. "Only that I am offering you two choices: either you take me up on my proposal, or I help you commit suicide. Come to think of it, I could arrange for a very interesting death indeed--just for you."

In a thick, almost palpable silence, we both froze.

"Wh-what kind of a... p-p-proposal?" I squeezed out.

A triumphant light shone in his eyes.

 

** ** **

Still, watching me thoughtfully, Kristoff was in no hurry to answer. Seconds ticked. Then he reemerged by the window and stood there for a long time with his back to me.

The dramatic pause was dragging on for way too long, and I realized that in a bout of some childish mischief I was itching to come closer and give him a kick from behind--as hard as I could. I was barely beating down the urge to scream at him, to tell him to move on with it already, when he was suddenly right in front of me, meting out the verdict.

"You will leave with me."

"No, I won't!" Been there, done that. Not even under penalty of death was I going to walk into the same trap twice!

"Yes, you will--but under totally different conditions."

"I am not interested in any of your conditions, Kristoff!" I hissed bitterly. Did he even realize how much his overconfidence bugged me? "Not interested, don't you get it? I want my freedom! There's nothing more important for me than that! So if you don't have enough servants already, go look for--"

"You will be the lady of my house."

The air I drew in for another furious tirade escaped my lungs with a dull hiss, the remainder barely sufficient for a single short word.

"... What?"

"You see, Diana, conditions do matter!" An ironic smile blossomed on his lips. He seemed to be reveling in my bewilderment.

I stood still, looking at him with my eyes wide open, trying to process what he had just said.

His usual cold demeanor melted, giving way to some totally new quality I had never seen before. In a split second, he drew a semi-circle around me and spoke from somewhere behind my shoulder, his breath on my neck giving me goosebumps.

"I am offering you what you have always dreamed about," whispered my serpent in a low, slightly rasping voice.

He circled around me again.

"Those you were so afraid of will accept you as their equal," he continued, tempting my soul to follow him.

And another hurricane followed, and again his voice spoke from behind my other shoulder.

"Those that ruled you before will now serve you..." Heck, he was promising me power and wealth.

As I turned to face him, he disappeared again, moving like a whirlwind, making my hair stand on end. As he finally came before me, running his hand through my hair--slowly, deliberately--his hypnotic gaze reaching deep into my soul, he continued:

"... and I... I will be the one who stands by your side."

"What if I don't want you by my side?" I heard my own low voice through the haze of my ultimate shock.

To my surprise, Kristoff only smiled in his seductive, sophisticated way.

"But you see, you have no choice..." He was still deceptively tender.

Dumbfounded, I gazed at the new him, trying to reconcile the familiar beast with this new, unbelievably alluring man. "That's how his victims see him," a subconscious thought flashed in my mind.

"What do you need all this for?" Rags to riches stories could be quite amusing at times, but now I found myself unable to squeeze out even the tiniest of smiles.

Realizing how important the question--and the answer thereto--was, Kristoff also stopped smiling.

"When you get to live as long as I have, Diana, you begin to appreciate entertainment. There is actually much less of it around than it seems. You are like a toy to me that I never get tired of because you always evolve into something new. Here's the insolent, overconfident you, and the next minute--bam!--you are all submissive and very much keep to yourself. Now... I want to know what you have up your sleeve this time."

"A toy?" I clenched my teeth, and my nostrils flared. It was hard to say whether a toy trumped a servant, but it sure seemed more degrading.

My eyes must have given my thoughts away clearly enough, because Kristoff touched my cheek and, disregarding my growing stiffness, said, in a very serious manner:

"Don't do anything you'll wish you hadn't! I am only asking you because I want you to say yes of your own free will. But if you say no, this will be the last time I touch you..."

"You mean to say it will be the last touch of my life at all, right?" I said, absolutely certain of my conclusion. My only other option was death.

A strange spark flashed in his eyes. For a moment, I was ready to believe that Kristoff did not quite believe his threat himself, but what he said next proved me wrong.

"Yes, Diana, you are right."

 

** ** **

Only an hour after he returned me to his world did I realize how tired I was. The insanely intense stress of his presence wore me out in no time. What would it feel like after spending a day with him? A week? Better not even go there...

Given a choice between death or a new life, I chose life--again. Still, I was not altogether sure I had made the right choice.

I entered the kitchen. Like the rest of the house I had grown to love, it was tiny--just what a single girl needed. Kristoff's huge bulk took up most of the space available. He himself seemed to be particularly out of place here, all wrong and impossible next to my small table and two chairs. The worn-out floor under his expensive handmade shoes only added to the unreal feeling of seeing him there.

We had barely exchanged a few words since the moment I said yes to his twisted offer. In all that time, he had never taken his eyes off of me, which annoyed me immensely. Now too, he was watching me pour tea from my favorite old red polka dot kettle into broad-rimmed cups, probably gauging their apparent wretchedness against his own precious china.

Having put the sugar bowl onto the table, I took a seat. Kristoff sat down next to me, and there was nothing I could do about it. From now on, it was always going to be that way.

I turned away.

Outside, the first drops of rain fell--the last rain I would ever hear thudding on the roof of my own house.

"Was it difficult for you to live in this... um... place?" he asked, picking up the cup and giving my aged kitchen furniture a skeptical look.

"No, not at all--since you weren't here!" I was not going to let him disparage my beloved abode unchallenged. "What made you ask?" He only chuckled.

"I merely recalled that spoiled, pushy daughter of Jacob Snowe's who simply had to have what she wanted--and, as a matter of fact, almost always did."

"You are talking in riddles." Indeed, I could not quite get what he was driving at. "All the more so since my main wish--to see you gone--never came true!" The "offer" he made me said nothing about reverence, and I figured I might as well take full advantage of that.

"Of course, Diana, the time you spent in my house made you change, but escaping remained your secret wish all the same."

Oh, he thought it was so witty!

"You sure about that?" I erupted. "Why don't I let you in on a secret then? There was a time when all I wanted was sleep, but my considerate master went to great pains to make sure I didn't have any more of it than was absolutely necessary to keep me alive."

The smile on the monster's face fizzled.

"There was also a time when I prayed my 'kind' master would just kill me quickly in his fitful rage and stop torturing me with his never-ending malice."

He grew pale, more than ever.

"You have no idea who and what I really am, Kristoff, so please spare me all this talk about how you understand me!"

Not that I expected him to respond in any way to those revelations of mine, but at least the mask of utter aplomb was gone from his face. That was good. I'd take that.

The rain stopped, and its last drops were slowly making their way down the glass panes, making the room unfittingly cozy for the occasion. I still had an important question to ask. Shifting my gaze to the window, I tried to sound as nonchalant as I possibly could.

"So, how long do you expect me to... to stay with you?"

No matter how great a toy, there would always be a moment it was no longer needed.

Slowly, like a mere tired mortal, he got up from the squeaky chair.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," he said and headed towards the exit.

He opened the door and looked askance at me. The loose glass in the frame gave a rattle and I realized that it was going to be the last time I heard that familiar sound. With great anguish, in my mind I suddenly saw the dear faces of my pupils, and then of Natalie who, as simple-minded as she was, was still a true friend. The brief, quiet life in which I belonged to myself and almost felt happy was over.

As for Kristoff, he was sure to see I had achieved the impossible: I now hated him more than ever before!

 

** ** **

His car would attract admiring looks even in a big city. In our small provincial town, it immediately became the ultimate focus of everyone's undivided attention. Every now and then, high-pitched, excited voices of youngsters would cut into the subdued, respectful murmur of adults. I recognized some of my pupils in the crowd. For them, my sudden, unexpected departure--very much unexpected for myself, of all others--would mean losing their favorite teacher, but for now it was the principal alone who knew about it. Caught unaware by my late night call, the man couldn't conceal his displeasure.

I closed the door behind me and headed towards the car without a single look back at what had been my home for the previous two years. The murmur of conversation died down, and I felt like some passing royalty, followed by the admiring looks of the crowd. The weirdest thing now was that the assessment was not altogether inaccurate.

The car itself presented the picture of a dream come true: suitcases loaded, the door open, an inviting hand extended from within by my... who? Who was he now going to be for me?

These precarious speculations were cut short by a flash of Natalie's face in the crowd. Even from a distance, her curious eyes shone unabated, expecting explanations and, possibly, an introduction to someone new.

"Is that my dinner?" Kristoff asked wickedly, tracing my look.

I felt blood rushing out of my face and snapped at him: "Start the car!" Quickly, anxious to avoid any questions, I got in. It was only then that I realized how easy and natural it felt to give him an order. It was as if I had done it a thousand times before.

"As you wish, mistress," Kristoff smiled again, enjoying the new form of address. He was now in a great mood--heck, better than great! He got what he wanted. Like he always did...

Natalie must have been surprised, angry even. Silly girl, she had no idea what kind of risk she would take making acquaintance of a handsome man like Kristoff. She simply did not know that staying as far away as possible from my wretched life would be in her best interests. She remained none the wiser that it would be best if we never saw each other again.

I turned away from her hurt, reproachful eyes, and then the car shot forward, burning rubber, leaving behind everything my freedom had to offer, relegating it all to the status of a vague memory.

 

** ** **

Late at night, I woke up, realizing our unbelievable mad dash back to the future was over. Slowly, we were entering the familiar gate.

I looked out the window and was surprised to see numerous extra guards around. Rather solid before, security at the place had by now reached the proportions that appeared altogether unseemly. What was it the omnipotent Kristoff was so afraid of? That instant reminder of how much the estate had to be spending on security alone made me wonder, time and again, how I was ever able to avoid Kristoff's monstrous reach for so long.

The car pulled up to the front door. At a brief glance, it seemed that the house had long been asleep and no one expected us. But I knew it all too well how deceptive that impression was. In fact, it would be the busiest time of the day, with hordes of servants cleaning and scrubbing and doing away with every trace of the day past so that the masters could wake up in the morning to a bright new beginning in their immaculately spotless abode.

"Come on out," said Kristoff, holding the door open for me.

In an involuntary comparison, my mind served up the image of my other arrival, now deep in the past. It all seemed the same, but it was totally different. Even the words said were similar, but they meant something else altogether.

Just as before, a servant bustled down the stairs to meet us--not the old man I remembered, but a young, strapping lad. His entire demeanor projected a sickly servility, and his eyes of a stranger shone with a familiar dread. Only now it was clear Kristoff wasn't the only one he was afraid of.

I was flabbergasted to realize he was afraid of me just as much!

"Come, Diana, they are waiting for you," Kristoff said evenly.

How pedestrian it all sounded, how routine! He took me by the hand and led me towards the house that suddenly lit up, as if on some magic cue. It was like I could almost see through the walls, see the servants scurrying around as their merciless master was getting closer and closer.

We entered the hall, and as was always the case everyone there turned into statues, trying to fade into the background, to hopefully remain unseen. As always, Kristoff paid them no heed. That was business as usual for him.

But it wasn't for me. Anxiously, I peered into the submissive, subservient faces of those I knew well and a precious few I considered to be my friends. I was acutely aware of the fear emanating from the newcomers, wondering what it was they had been told about me that made me such a formidable sight. They all looked at me as their mistress, none the wiser that I had just about as many rights as they did.

Still, I was no longer a servant either.

"Kristoff, where am I going to stay?" Somehow I didn't quite believe I was going back to my wretched old cubbyhole under the roof.

"Here," he said with a flourish. Apparently, he found my tentative fishing expedition quite amusing.

"Care to be more specific?"

"In my wing."

"Could you do better?"

He only smiled. I didn't feel like smiling back.

I knew where we were going, and unlike the first time felt almost no fear. He opened the door, letting me into the cozy comfort of the library.

"Welcome back, Diana!" Jenob, his usual relaxed albeit somewhat gloomy self gave me a calm, benevolent look. As he smiled, I could see small wrinkles gather under his eyes, like you would expect of a well-aged senior like himself.

As hard as it was to admit it to myself, I missed his smile.

"We were looking forward to your return."

He spoke to me in a totally different manner--as if I were his equal. What made him change so? What was it all about? I gave Kristoff an inquisitive look, but he was just as hard-to-read as ever.

As tea was being served, I recognized Kira, the girl I used to work with. I tried to make eye contact with her, as I used to do before, but found an impenetrable wall. In this house, servants did not look their masters in the eye. I was one of her masters now.

It is all different now, whispered a renegade voice in my head. Nothing is going to be like it was!

"Sit down, my children," Jenob said, surprising me even more.

Still pondering his fatherly demeanor, I took a seat and was immediately annoyed to find Kristoff putting an arm around my shoulders. He met my protesting look head on. I am fully entitled, his eyes said. Of course, the main question was just how much he was entitled to. I was getting increasingly more doubtful about the choice I had made.

"So how did you live all this time, Diana?" asked Jenob, taking a sip of his tea.

"It was good... I was free."

"Yes, that's good," he smiled. "You know, at times I almost wished Kristoff wouldn't find you."

"Jenob!" Kristoff cut him off, a warning note in his voice.

"Don't be cross with me, my boy. That was before, and now I am glad Diana is with us. And Moira--is she glad! She has missed you so much, Diana! I barely managed to talk her into waiting until tomorrow."

If I could be happy about anything now, that would be seeing Moira.

We finished our tea and left the library, heading down to the first floor and on to Kristoff's wing.

With every new step, I felt my knees grow weaker. How I dreaded to go there! I should have thought better before saying yes--when I still had that choice! Now, at that particular moment, the other alternative did not at all seem so hopeless.

I stopped for a moment before the door to his room, and he smiled at me, seeing my bewilderment.

"Are you afraid?"

I wanted to tell him it was not so much some primordial fear as utter disgust, not so much second thoughts about my choice as a sincere wish to die... Still, I understood that the time for that kind of language had long passed, and so I just kept my silence and stepped through the open door.

My nerves strained to the limit, I almost jumped at the sound of a double clap behind my back. In the soft light streaming from invisible fixtures, the beautiful room I remembered looked totally different. It was now full of mystical, intimate warmth. I clenched my teeth.

"Where is my bed, Kristoff?"

With a theatrical gesture, he pointed up the barely visible glass stairs. That was the way to his bedroom.

Unable to hold back, I let out a deep sigh.

Kristoff gave me the look of a lion contemplating a mouse.

"Why are you here, Diana?"

"Because you ordered me so!" Wasn't it obvious? I sure wouldn't have come of my own free will!

"Yes," he said, and then added gravely, "Still, I want you to know it was the last order I will ever give you. The only thing I require of you is that you stay by my side. Everything else is up to you. If you want it."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Well, it's not like you ever concerned yourself much with what I wanted," I said, unsure of where it was all going. At the same time, his impossible words kept churning in my mind like some interminable echo. Was the rest of it really optional?

"Yes, and that's why you ran away. That's why you became a mere ghost of the strong and free-spirited girl I have always found so attractive."

"I have never been weak!" I blurted angrily, without giving it any thought. My very essence rose up against those words! Only when I saw his wide grin did I realize it was exactly the reaction he had expected.

"Yes, and now I know it," he said again, very much content.

All of a sudden, the choice I had made did not look altogether wrong. If Kristoff was telling the truth about giving me something resembling complete freedom, then maybe staying with him wouldn't be entirely unbearable. And if everything else was indeed up to me... then I could rest easy since, naturally, I would never want any of it!

My chin shot up proudly all by itself, and the lips spread into a confident grin.

The conclusion I came to must have been fairly obvious since Kristoff, who had up until that moment been merely watching me with his sarcastic eyes, suddenly smiled and then pulled his sweater off over his head. Underneath, he only had a thin, white T-shirt against the background of which a fine chain was clearly visible around his neck.

Having almost placated myself with my own mental constructs, I recoiled involuntarily, surprised, but he only rolled his eyes, and then shook his head in a gesture of mellow fatigue. "Relax, Diana, I still have plenty of clothes on." Oh, great, now it was me who was a nymphomaniac!

"The room upstairs is all yours. Go ahead, settle in, your things are already up there. I am going to sleep here." He headed towards the huge couch that, come to think of it, wasn't there before. Upholstered in neutral white leather, it was almost invisible against the wall, which was also white. Next to it, there was a low, squat chest of drawers.

Carefully, I put my foot forward and onto the first step. It was a long way up to the second floor. Naturally, Kristoff was much taller and heavier than me, so if the stairs could hold him easily I had nothing to worry about. Besides, I'd hate to have my willpower questioned again, especially on account of such a ridiculous matter. Pushing my irrational fear back, I went right up, the epitome of iron determination. Through the transparent stairs, the entire room below spread before me in plain sight. I realized I had better forget about wearing skirts.

The bedroom unmistakably belonged to a man. There was not a single thing in it except for what was utterly indispensable. Still, the seeming asceticism of the place did little to disguise its owner's true stature. The luxurious polished marble of the floor, the immaculate whiteness of the soft carpet on it that must have cost the cleaners hours of work to maintain, the weightless, semi-transparent curtains quivering in the light breeze from the window like a ship's sails--all of that indicated that the person that lived here wasn't much of an ascetic at all. The only detail that seemed to be out of sync with the rest of the room was a huge orchid by the glass wall. Without a doubt, it must have appeared here not too long ago. Involuntarily, I smiled.

All of a sudden, I felt I was no longer alone and turned abruptly, only to find Kristoff behind my back. All he had on was a towel wrapped around his hips and the chain I saw earlier. I had to admit that he looked... um... impressive enough.

My brows went up all by themselves.

"There's something we will indeed need to share," he said, unperturbed, anticipating any questions on my part. "Since no one else was expected to ever live here, there's only one bathroom."

He nodded at the barely visible door next to the staircase. I only shook my head in disbelief.

"You shouldn't have inconvenienced yourself so much." The very thought of having to use the same bathroom with him was revolting. "My old room would have done just fine."

"No inconvenience at all," he said, ignoring the second part of my remark, "because you now enjoy a special status here." Then, as if regretting he had said that, Kristoff quickly turned and headed into the bathroom.

That was the first time I caught a glimpse of something human in him: he was guarding his space not just because he owned it but because it provided peace and comfort he craved.

"I hope you understand it's going to be difficult!" I hurled after him for no apparent reason. "The very idea of having the embodiment of all my fears so near gives me the jitters. Don't expect me to ever become tame, Kristoff!"

Before reaching for the door, he turned.

"Who ever said anything about that?" Forlornly, he rubbed his forehead. "Listen, how about we talk tomorrow instead? I am so tired of you now."

"Then why don't you let me go?"

Really, it's not like it was me clinging to him at all costs!

Out of the blue, he rose right in front of me and almost roared, drilling me with his fierce eyes:

"Please, Diana!" I could tell how difficult the new word was for him. "Don't ever ask me that again."

 

** ** **

That night, I slept unexpectedly well. Whether it was the utter exhaustion of the day before, or my surrendering to the fact that Kristoff had found me and thus things could not get any worse, I did not know. Either way, I slept like I hadn't in a very long time.

Closing my eyes, I was sure I was not going to be able to get any sleep at all--not in his bed, knowing he was in the same room. Still, the next thing that registered in my mind through the semi-conscious haze was the rays of the morning sun walking up and down my arms, lighting up the mess of my hair on the pillow with a golden glow. Lazily, I turned over and went back to my dreams.

Then I finally woke up for real. The sun had already retreated into the heavy storm clouds, and the window was still wet after the rain. It had to be late, very late, but I figured that didn't matter since I was now free--well, almost--to do as I pleased.

Except for the sound of my breathing, there was complete silence around. Getting out from under the blanket, I tiptoed to the staircase and looked down. The huge, iceberg-like couch was empty, as if it had not been slept on at all. Kristoff was nowhere to be seen and I couldn't quite figure out if I was happy about it or whether I... took offense? I went back to my room and sat down on the bed that was now mine.

The intricate ornament on the silk sheet under my hands snaked along freely. By the window, the exotic flower that must have cost a fortune swayed slightly in the wind, the exquisite burgeoning buds bobbing and weaving. The delicately embroidered silk pajamas I had thrown on the floor the night before out of sheer spite basked in the daylight, resplendent in their elegant hues. Having been raised in an affluent home, I could easily appreciate all these little "amenities" of my gilded cage.

Yes, they were all expensive, beautiful things. Very expensive. But how much more valuable my bargain basement wooden mug now seemed--the one left behind in my house, filled with my freedom! Why didn't I bring the mug over? Suddenly, my eyes were welling with tears. No, I did the right thing, I did not need a constant reminder of what I had lost!

Down below, the door opened, and I hurried to wipe my tears.

The next moment, the only person I had really missed all that time had her hands all around me in a hearty embrace. Jolly, vivacious, open-hearted, for a time Moira allowed herself to once again become an adorable child she had not been for a long time. Our hands and arms interlocked, and then our eyes, speaking volumes.

While I was away, she had changed beyond any expectations. Gone was the somewhat awkward teen, having now morphed into a graceful young lady. But above all, her much-changed face shone with delicate beauty. My blood did do her good after all.

"I am so happy you are back!" Her shiny eyes and the tone of her voice left no doubt that she truly was.

"I can't say I am happy to be back, Moira... But it is great to see you again!"

"Oh, come on, Diana," her face of a yesterday's child spread into an adorable grimace of surprised disbelief. "Did you really think that he wasn't going to find you?"

"Yeah, I hoped he wouldn't."

Moira laughed heartily, and once again I marveled at how healthy and lively she looked. Grabbing me by the hand, her eyes shining brightly, she snuggled up to me and rattled on and on.

"You have no idea what went down here when you escaped! I have never seen him so furious! At times, it seemed we were not going to have any servants left!" She shook her head in mock terror.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he had to let off some steam, didn't he?" Surprised at my being so obtuse, Moira laughed but cut herself short seeing the shock in my eyes, and then quickly changed the subject altogether. "Do you even realize there had never before been so many professionals out there looking for someone, Diana?"

"I guessed that much. The extra guards, are they on my account, too?" Absentmindedly, I was looking out the window, contemplating the true costs of what I had done. So that was why there were so many new faces among the staff...

"Could be..." Moira said vaguely, giving me a long look. Then she added after a pause, "Let me give you a fair warning, girl: don't even think of running away again! It won't fly! Naturally, I can forgive you for anything, but Kristoff..." She frowned and shook her head again. "Had he found you earlier, he would have just killed you, I'm telling you, despite all his feelings!"

I shifted my gaze to look straight at her, but Moira met it head-on and just shrugged.

"Anyway, never mind all this old woman talk," she laughed merrily at her own joke.

I could not stop thinking of all the innocent people that had paid so dearly for my escape. Still, there was an even more disquieting question: would I have fled had I known beforehand what the price of my action was going to be? Not being sure of the answer made me a monster in my own eyes.

"Moira?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember Kyle? The researcher from the lab? Do you know what happened to him?" My heart sank as I waited for her to answer.

She immediately grew serious, folded her hands on her chest and gave me a look full of caution.

"I have no idea. He just disappeared. Long ago."

The terse, brief answers that were so unlike her told me Moira was hiding something.

"Does it matter to you one way or another?"

"I'd just hate to know he had suffered because of me." Desperately, I was trying to figure how much of the truth I could tell her. I knew he had suffered on my account all right.

"Is that the only reason?"

Naturally, I could elaborate just a little, but somehow, instinctively, I knew I should not bare my soul even before my dear Moira.

"Yes," I croaked, all too sure this deliberate forced aloofness was going to cost me dearly come nighttime.

"Well, good for you, then. But you being my best friend and all, let me give you a piece of advice: never, and I mean never, ask Kristoff about Kyle." Her look was now dead serious. "Better yet, Diana, forget about him altogether. Pretend he never existed."

"Yes. Never existed. Got it."

Moira smiled right away, beaming with sunshine, chirping merrily, doing her best to bring me back to reality.

"Are you ready for the ball?"

"The ball?" I repeated, as if on autopilot, giving no thought at all to what that word meant.

"Oh, so you don't know? Kristoff forbade me to tell you, he said you are not ready yet... But what's he going to do if I tell you anyway, huh?" Gaiety incarnate, she broke into laugher. Indeed, it was not like he was going to lay a finger on his precious sister. "Besides, I think you have the right to know--seeing that you are almost family now."

Family? Unable to think of anything except spending a long night alone and crying my heart out, I tried to oust that particular assertion, push it deep down into some remote nook of my memory where it could remain on hold with other, similarly confusing ideas, to be pondered at length at a later time.

"A ball, huh?" Maintaining that particular conversation wasn't going to be difficult.

"The ball is held once a year, and always here since our family rules not just in the world of people, Diana..." That confession of hers told me nothing new. I already knew the truth... from Kyle. "Some of the most powerful and influential individuals come from all over the world to attend our ball. It is an event to die for! But don't you worry, you still have three months to get ready. There's plenty of time."

I wasn't worried at all. At least, not at the moment, not when other, totally different woes held my undivided attention. Still, Moira didn't need to know about those, so I simply nodded in complete agreement.

To take my mind off those painful thoughts at least for a while, I began telling her of my life as my own person, cut short as it was, and she gave me the details of her recovery. I told her I was really sorry I was not by her side through that time, but Moira only smiled to that--she must have forgiven me my running away before I even went anywhere!

I was surprised to discover that I had slept through most of the day, and now it was getting dark outside...

Tired of talking, Moira dragged me to the dressing room. It was overflowing with expensive clothes, all in my size. And they were not the things from my parents' house.

"What's the story with all this stuff?" I asked, though I knew already what the answer was going to be.

"Kristoff," Moira shrugged, her usual smile on her face.

I didn't bother asking any more questions. It was obvious: a favorite doll had to have beautiful dresses. A bitter smile touched my lips.

I now ached to be left alone--desperately and completely!

Naturally, Moira couldn't fail to notice how depressed I was and asked me if I felt well. Summoning up all my meager acting skills, I complained about yesterday having been such a stressful day (which was the truth, give or take), and of having hardly had any sleep at the new place (which was a blatant lie). I must have overdone it, because shrewd Moira seemed to be all attention and was giving me plenty of long, knowing looks. Yet, I got what I wanted: still smiling, she rose, bid me goodbye and left me alone.

Waiting until nighttime proved a fool's errand. The door barely closed behind her when I was back on the bed, face down, and sobbing uncontrollably.

That Kyle had paid with his life for my escape did not surprise me at all. Deep down inside, I always knew it. That was what my hopeless dreams of him in that quiet little town were telling me. That was also what cold, hard logic inevitably implied. Apparently, once my trail went cold, Kristoff figured it out right away who the only person in position to help me could be, and went to punish the perpetrator before getting on with the rest of his search effort. That was also what Kyle's painful embrace meant during our last meeting: I just knew we were not going to see each other again.

Still, it all hurt so much!

I mourned him, shedding tears over his image, saying goodbye to him forever. A part of my soul died with him once and for all.

If there was a God in the world, he must have been plenty confused that night: I cursed him for being so blatantly cruel and blind to our nascent feelings, and then I thanked him profusely for having allowed us at least that much. Exhausted by the uncontrollable spasms that shook my body, I would blank out, falling into a kind of absentia, then come out only to find my eyes still running with tears.

I had no idea what time it was, and whether it was day or night. I did not feel hungry or thirsty. I did not hear Kristoff around. I never saw anyone. Or anything...

For a long time.

 

** ** **

It was Moira who woke me up.

"Diana, dear, get up!" her sonorous voice broke into my fuzzy dreams. "We have a very busy day today."

Opening my eyes wasn't particularly easy since all there was left of them after that inconsolable crying was two narrow, puffed- up slits. However, my swollen nose did a much better job of discerning the smell of good, strong coffee that I sometimes thought might well be able to raise me from my grave.

Carefully, not particularly trusting of my exhausted body, I sat up. On the minuscule glass table in front of me, there was a large steaming mug that caught my attention right away. My hand reached for it all by itself...

Moira--a natural, adorable child at play--was having fun with a silk curtain. Time and again, she threw the lower edge of it up, and while the fabric hung in the air like some floating weightless canopy, she would spin under it, ruffling the delicate flowers, making them sway... Many an artist would pay dearly for the chance to capture it all on canvas!

That was when I realized that what Moira was actually trying to do was cheer me up. A gamut of contradictory feelings swept over me, ranging from irritation ('She is just as much of a monster as Kristoff!'), to gratitude for this show of support, to guilt for having ignored her for so song. Oh, and by the way, how long was so long?

"I love you very much, but today your scent makes me keep my distance. Even me, mind you." She kept dancing, and her voice was remarkably nonjudgmental of the sorry sight I must have presented. "Diana, you need to take a shower, dear. The sooner the better!"

I blushed and, feeling all hot and sticky, took an unconscious whiff... Eew! Gross! How long did I... Stop! Whether I wanted to live or not, actual life could only go one way--forward. From that point on, I had better remind myself of that, and often!

While I took my time in the bathroom putting myself in order, I heard Moira sing a beautiful song in a language I didn't know. It was definitely not of this world. Once again, a warm wave swept over me: I was so lucky to have Moira!

When I got back to the room, feeling more like the human being I was, there was breakfast served on the same table. The very sight of all those plates and dishes made my stomach rumble, and I attacked the food with a vehemence that bordered on the indecent. Smiling tenderly, like a mother admiring her baby, Moira just watched me eat.

Then classes began--I really wouldn't know what else to call them. Casually, Kristoff's sister took her time walking me through the vagaries of the daily life in their huge house. One would think that a year and a half of slave labor at that very house should have taught me all there was to know about it, but I had never had a chance to look at those goings on from the perch of the lady of the house. Now I had to memorize hundreds of names of those responsible for cooking, deliveries, maintenance, laundry and what not, as well as learn what to do when appliances broke, during water supply disruptions or power outages, or when someone got sick. Very soon, I realized I was not going to have too much time to myself. It would take me a lot of time and effort to learn to become an able enough director to that huge, multifaceted orchestra. I got an immediate glimmer of hope that all that could give my life a semblance of purpose, since up to that point I could hardly discern why I was clinging to it so desperately to begin with.

I did not want to leave the room that had a few things that were truly mine, and I felt like seeing anyone even less. Still, Moira insisted I take a walk around the house with her.

Moving from room to room, barely taking note of her remarks about all kinds of things, I suddenly understood that she cared just about as little as I did whether I took them to heart or not. She was simply trying to get me comfortable with the idea that I was no longer a servant there. I was in charge. She made me hold my head high, take it as my due when people bowed to me, and walk proudly under the deferential eyes of those whom I had only recently considered my friends.

That was the day I realized for the first time that no matter how much Moira loved me, in her eyes other servants had been, were and would always remain inferior beings. Centuries-old haughtiness permeating her remarks left me no doubts as to what she truly thought of their servile stature.

I felt that the way she saw things wasn't a good enough reason for me to give up her affection, and I tried telling myself that what I had seen at my parents' house was very much similar, and though I had spent a year and a half of my life as a servant here myself I was now "on her side." I tried arrogance on for size, but it didn't take. Any attempts at snobbishness vanished without a trace once I asked myself, time and again, who I really was myself.

The answer to that remained as elusive as ever.

 

** ** **

The first month of my new life at that hateful place was the most difficult. The stress of having been returned there by force and the realization of what the true cost of my escape amounted to made me shun company. I did not want to see, hear, or deal with anyone except Moira.

Total impunity made me an absolute pain in the neck where Kristoff was concerned. Every time he tried to get closer, I would step back and turn around. When he tried to talk to me, I wouldn't respond. Bumping into him near the bathroom, I would just take my eyes off of him, like I cared not at all for the sight.

Sometimes, lying sleepless in bed at night, I tried to look at it all in an unbiased manner and understand the logic of his actions. Sometimes, I even managed to learn something. Indeed, for someone as powerful and as ancient, someone who did not simply look down on people but actually regarded them as food, a servant unfortunate enough to find himself close during one of his temper tantrums must have been very much like perfectly innocent dishware smashed by an angry woman in a fit of rage. But understanding did not mean forgiving. I could not forgive him, and thus quietly enjoyed every little bit of revenge I found myself in position to exact. And it was working!

One morning, the usually reserved Kristoff, who hardly ever raised his voice as much as a notch, lost it for the first time since my return. As I tried to habitually ignore his attempt to talk to me, he suddenly exploded, like a spontaneous wind squall, and charged me, smashing everything in his path. Stopping a step in front of me, he screamed into my face:

"Why do you always have to behave like some damn hermit--and with a persecution complex to boot?"

"And what are you going to do about it?!" I lost my deliberate calm as well. "Make me work my butt off? Suck all my blood out? Or do you have something new up your sleeve? You told me it was the last order you were going to give me: stand by my side. So here I am, by your side! Everything else is up to me--isn't that what you said?"

He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me like I was a rag doll.

"Why don't you come to your senses?" His animal roar had nothing in common with a human voice.

"Why don't you make me--like you always have when I disobeyed?!" I was so angry at him I lost all my fear.

He blinked and looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. In a second, I was all alone in the room.

I wouldn't have gloated so much over that perceived victory had I known how soon I would come to regret crossing him. I simply forgot that Kristoff never forgave any insults.

We were sitting at a beautiful oak table that must have been over two hundred years old. Dinner that day was unusually silent.

"It looks like Diana is quite a positive influence on you, Kristoff! You are becoming a true representative of our breed: calm, composed and almost safe for humans." Jenob laughed at his own joke and took a sip from an ancient goblet that resonated with a high-strung tone.

Indeed, Kristoff seemed to be very calm--maybe too calm. Only when his eyes chanced upon me did they light with apparently malignant fire. I would quickly shift my gaze away--to Moira's smiling face that tended to calm me down like nothing else.

To get my mind off the tension around the dinner table, I was pondering issues that I had found fascinating for quite some time now. Like, why my dinner companions ate a regular human diet (albeit mostly meat-based) in addition to blood? Or, what was Moira's true age?

Dessert was served. The girl that brought in the tray with small pastries looked totally dispassionate, but having been in her shoes myself I knew it was just an act to conceal fear. Like every other domestic, she noticed the minutest of changes on the faces of those who got to decide whether she lived or died. Right now, she was acutely aware of the master being very, very angry.

No matter how careful she tried to be, her hands began to tremble at the most inopportune moment, and a bright spot immediately blossomed on Kristoff's right sleeve.

No, he didn't look angry, riled or vindictive, but his deliberate calmness was but a harbinger of an impending tempest. He brushed his ruined dessert off his sleeve. Without as much as giving the servant a look, he took out his phone and pushed a speed dial button.

"You've got food coming," he said almost dispassionately and dropped the phone on the table.

From my time as a servant, I knew what such a call meant. The hellish monsters Kristoff showed me back then as a would-be deterrent against any misguided attempts at breaking free were about to get yet another victim--the mercilessly discarded servant.

The ultimate horror of what awaited the poor girl immediately overshadowed my own nightmares of the bloodbath I had been witness to.

"No, Kristoff!"

He gave me a long look. We both knew he was not punishing the girl, but me rather, for having been so insolent with him. He was reminding me of his own status as the true master of all our lives.

"Kristoff, please, call it off! I am begging you!"

The girl stood more dead than alive and only whimpered silently while I begged for her life. Yet, he got up abruptly and headed out of the dining room. I rushed after him.

"Wait, Kristoff, wait! Please!"

He kept walking, never turning back, almost nearing the end of the corridor, and at a glance it might have looked as if he cared none if I were following him or not. Yet I knew that wasn't the case. If he didn't, he would have been long gone by now. I had a gut feeling he was simply enjoying the moment.

"Kristoff, please!"

He stopped and slowly turned to face me. As I took a moment to catch my breath after all that running, we stared at each other, as if sizing the opponent up before an impending fight. I didn't seem to measure up at all, but I was not going to just give up either.

"Cancel that order, you damned bloodsucker!" In the years that followed my rebellious youth, I had learned to hold back and knew when to speak up and when to keep my silence. Still, at that moment the strain of emotion got the better of me. "Why are you sending her off to die? Her only transgression is being afraid of you--but so is everyone else!"

"Even you?"

His steadfastly angry eyes showed a glimmer of interest, and I jumped even at that opportunity, however whimsical it seemed at the moment. I spoke slowly, carefully choosing my words.

"Especially me... And you are not doing anything to change that. You are offering me a choice, at the same time refusing to accept that I do in fact have it!"

That remark brought back his temper at once.

"Get out of my sight, Diana, or you'll be sorry too!" Apparently, Kristoff was not bluffing.

In the past, a direct threat such as this would have stopped me, but no more.

"Maybe that's for the best? After all, it's me you are angry with, not that servant girl. Go ahead, let's finish this! Just mop the floor with me and finally stop demanding the impossible!"

"What's so impossible?" I could see he was making a tremendous effort to keep himself under control. Once again, that beastly roar was simmering beneath the surface, eager to break out at any moment.

"I cannot possibly come to see you in a different light unless you meet me half way!" I was just as surprised myself at what I had just said. I had had no intention whatsoever of saying anything of the kind. What was in the back of my mind simply slipped out somehow, all by itself.

Rigid as a statue, Kristoff was staring at me, and I could see anger leaving his eyes. Then, he relaxed altogether and smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was infinitely better than the scowl of an enraged animal that distorted his sensual lips only a moment before.

"So what do you expect me to do?" he asked in a totally different tone of voice.

"Spare the girl, for starters!"

"Why?" His brow raised casually, he was watching me with great interest as I scrambled to search my mind for a legitimate argument that could sway him.

"I want her as my personal servant!" I finally breathed out, grabbing at straws. "I hope she will pay me for my efforts to save her with steadfast devotion. If she doesn't, I will send her to the feedstocks myself. Please, Kristoff..." I took him by the hand.

It was an instinctive move on my part. I felt that my touch could make him do anything I wanted--just as once it had made him take me to my parents' house against his better judgment. The look in his eyes told me he also remembered it well... but couldn't resist anyway. All of a sudden, the taunting sneer in his eyes dissipated completely, replaced by such desperate longing that I recoiled involuntarily and took a step back, letting go of his hand.

His burning eyes still on me, he pulled out his phone and canceled the order.

"Thank you!" I heard my own perplexed voice say.

"A thank you isn't enough, Diana. I showed you some good will. Now the ball is in your court."

As the pregnant pause dragged on, I racked my brain trying to think of what he could possible demand in exchange. Finally, I couldn't hold it back any longer.

"So what kind of a giveback do you have in mind?"

"From this point on, stop ignoring me, Diana." Kristoff gave me a wicked smile and added, meaningfully: "For starters..."

And we had us a deal...

 

** ** **

All my befuddled thoughts circled around the same theme--the almost magic ease with which I got what I wanted. Time and again, I would replay that conversation in my mind and marvel at that near-mystical feeling of my power over Kristoff. Here I am, barely touching his hand--and he is all mine! That was the best description for what I felt looking into his eyes.

I could have asked him for anything, and he would have agreed. I just knew he would.

For the first time, I asked myself what made him insist on keeping me close, with a yearning that at times seemed almost morbid. Naturally, a mere whim on the part of a powerful master of lives who never took no for an answer would have put his favorite toy right back where he wanted it. However, there had to be something behind his actions--a deeper, more compelling reason, perhaps? An altogether different reason?

I couldn't believe he needed me that much. Even as an implicit assumption, that seemed to be totally ludicrous!

Deep in thought, I was on my way to the kitchen to talk to the girl whose life proved to be such an easy prize to claim from Kristoff. Realizing how terrified she must have been, I was eager to give her the comforting news that she was now under my personal protection.

I knew exactly where to find her. It was there, in the kitchen, that the scared, discombobulated--and sometimes physically abused outright--servants looked for and found sympathetic ears. The memories of my own tears shed at that place where still fresh in my mind.

"... don't you get it, I'd be dead already if it weren't for her!"

The quivering voice from the kitchen stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, we get it all right," replied the annoyed Mika--one of the girls I used to think was a friend. "You have no idea what kind of power she has over him!"

I was stunned to hear the degree of malicious envy in her voice.

"But how can it be?" The girl I had saved gave a sob, but I could tell her curiosity was now taking the upper hand. "The way I see it, she is just another human like us."

"She is, and she isn't," the voice of an older woman cut in, and I immediately recognized the cook lady I had hardly ever talked to. "You are not going to believe this, Lana, but she used to be a servant here herself--just like all of us."

"?!"

"Yes, when she first showed up here some three years ago, she was a quiet nervous wreck, but when she spoke of the masters, she was seething with hatred."

"Oh, yes!" Mika picked up. "We used to sit with her right here (the sound of a palm smacking the table) and often shared our woes. But anyone who had eyes to see could see Kristoff was trailing Diana at all times. Where she went, he went. Her shadow indeed, that's what he was..."

My brows went up in utter amazement. Was that really how it went? Was he really there all along, and I simply didn't notice? I had always thought he was away so often...

"So she probably took the opportunity to escape our wretched fate. Who wouldn't have? Lucky girl!" Mika gave a deep sigh.

Her words caught me unawares, knocking the wind out of me. Furious, I saw red!

"So that's what her name is, Diana?" the girl I had saved asked again.

"Yes. She was also the first ever to escape from this place. But now she is back, you see--as one of the masters!" Mika sighed again.

"Oh, come on! Who knows what happened between those two?" another voice said. ('Vera?' I thought.) "Everyone knows you can't get out of this place. Anyone who tried just disappeared without a trace. Except for this here lady. Am I expected to believe that she just went and outsmarted everyone? Hogwash! I bet that she was never really a servant to begin with. It was more of a game with her. They never made her do any of the really hard work, and the master was always..."

"Game or not," the grumpy old cook cut her short. "What difference does it make to us? You, Lana, you'd better be grateful for escaping with your life. In the future, make sure you give Kristoff the widest berth possible. You'll live longer that way, girl. Take my word for it. He only looks quiet... And don't you get all soft and mushy about our new mistress. She is not going to always put herself between you and him. Why would she risk getting on his ugly side, huh? You'll see..."

"Nah, ain't gonna happen," Mika grumbled, waking up from her dreams of the cruel, yet handsome and powerful master.

The ensuing pause was then interrupted by young Lana.

"You think he is in love with her?"

There used to be a time when I would only snicker at such an assumption, but now it resonated with my own thoughts so heavily that I'd settle for a mere understanding of what it all meant for me. It turned my entire world upside down.

Then the old cook spoke again.

"Looks that way, Lana. But one way or another, Diana is our mistress now and no one knows yet what she is capable of. So you'd better be careful around her, too!"

I thought I was now well used to my new role. I was certain that nothing could upset me anymore, be it the downward looks, or fear, or even hate in the eyes of those I used to work with side by side not so long ago. But I was wrong! Unlike Kristoff, who could not care less of what all those meddlesome humans thought of him, I turned out to be quite vulnerable to mere words. How could they, really? It's not like I ever gave them any reason to say all that stuff about me!

Furious as never before, I burst into the kitchen and looked around, resting my heavy gaze on each of the servants, from one to another. It also gave me great pleasure to see the grimace of ultimate terror distorting their faces.

Lana, whose worthless life I had managed to save, seemed to be scared the most. She was afraid of me, her savior, out of mere habit, not even knowing what I had come for. The sheer panic in her eyes seemed so very familiar...

For a second, I had a momentary flashback: there I was, rather than the young servant girl, standing there, paralyzed with horror, with Kristoff bearing down on me, hissing through his clenched teeth: 'After all the time I've spent with you, watching all your silly fears, your tears... How can you...'

At that moment, I finally understood him.

"Stop crying, you silly thing," I barked angrily at the tearful girl, surprised at the steely notes in my commanding voice. "From this day on, you'll be my personal maid. You will do as I tell you. Understand?"

Still panic-stricken, she said nothing, and that got me going even worse.

"Are we clear? Because if we are not, it is still not too late to turn it all around!"

"Yes!" she sobbed back right away.

It was only after she did that I afforded myself the little luxury of looking triumphantly at the rest of them, watching their faces grow pale, as if on cue.

"And you, let me remind the rest of you that words have consequences! Very real, lasting consequences!" As their faces lost all color altogether, I smiled and slowly walked out of the kitchen.

Behind me, Lana began crying again.

But it wasn't her woes I was thinking about. I was thinking about how a minute ago I had grasped the nature of power--any power. Everything around us can not only be seen or touched, but broken as well. With absolute impunity!

That brought me a step closer to Kristoff.

 

** ** **

Mmmm... Dia-a-a-na...

I was dreaming of being kissed.

The feather-light touch upon my lips lit up my entire body. Blood rushed to my lower abdomen, pulsating and throbbing, and calling for action. I rolled over to find that mouth again, the one that was kissing me only a moment before, and... opened my eyes. From the depths of my dream, the voice was still calling.

"Dia-a-a-na..."

A sigh of ultimate disappointment escaped from my lips: it was only a dream! What terrible timing!

I stretched hard, feeling my sleepy muscles respond with a sweet buzz, and then, still yawning, headed for the bathroom. On the way there, I stole a glance down through the transparent steps. The couch was as empty as ever. I had never seen Kristoff sleeping. When I went to bed, he was still up; when I rose, he was already up. Maybe he doesn't even need any sleep, I thought for the first time.

Just as I was about to reach for the handle, the door swung open and out of the bathroom emerged Kristoff, the usual towel wrapped around his hips. His dark hair was still wet from the shower.

Does he ever take it off? For a few long moments, before cutting myself off somewhat haphazardly, I was studying the chain on his chest with great interest. Damn, what did I even care if he didn't!

"Good morning, Diana," he said, articulating the seemingly unremarkable words with deliberate intensity. I was immediately reminded of the fact that I could no longer ignore him. The night before, Kristoff spoke to me the very same way, parsing out his sentences as if declaiming poetry, waiting for me to respond. At the same time, I could not shake the impression that he was simply training my reflexes. By the time my cheek finally touched the pillow, I was so annoyed I could strangle him with my bare hands.

Patience, I told myself. A deal is a deal. I took a deep breath, focused properly and said:

"Good morning, Kristoff!" Heck, I even tried to squeeze out a smile.

"I can't believe my ears!" His joy may have looked genuine if not for his laughing eyes. "Diana, we are making amazing progress!"

I felt myself blush (Jeez, that was the last thing I needed!), mumbled something unintelligible and quickly slipped past him into the bathroom.

I was now in a permanent state of confusion. I just couldn't figure what to make of it all. However unreal the situation might seem, one thing was clear: I mattered to him. Big time. This was confirmed by all the suggestive language I was getting from him, Moira and Jenob. And how about that conversation between the servants I had chanced upon? Moreover, quite a few of Kristoff's actions that had so far made little sense suddenly became crystal clear in light of the new information I now had.

The way he watched me so closely (not just on Moira's account, as it turned out, but also for his own sake), that fit of jealous rage when he had found Kyle in my room, the obsessive zeal with which he had been looking for me, raking through country upon country, and the very fact that I had been able to get away with things that would have cost anyone else their life--all of that spoke volumes.

At that moment, my vindictive memory would rush to serve up some of the most painful recollections of the past. His hand, forcing me to watch the pack of his "dogs" feeding. Feeling dead tired from hard labor, lack of sleep and blood loss at the time when he was trying to break my spirit... Having analyzed the events of three years back in minute detail, I concluded that what he did was exactly what he had set out to do. The only thing I could not understand was why. How could all that be caused by love? And finally, there was Kyle--my deepest, most painful wound.

Every time that I thought Kristoff might possibly have feelings for me, I was swept by such a monumental wave of conflicting emotions that it seemed I would never be able to resurface alive. My mind was about to burst from all those incompatible urges, with the admiring, childish "Oh my God!" on the one end of the spectrum, and the annoyed, vindictive "To hell with him!" on the other.

But the thing I found most difficult to forget was what he was.

 

** ** **

Every morning, I would wake up from the very same dream: the whispering "Dia-a-a-na..." and a light kiss that made my entire body come ablaze.

Engrossed in my thoughts, I watched the garden outside bask in the morning sun. The rays of light permeating the leftover fog turned it into a veil of sorts thrown over the outlines of the great old trees. It seemed that only now, some fifty, maybe even one hundred years after being planted, the garden became what the unknown, unbelievably talented gardener must have envisaged: an ethereally beautiful oasis of natural wilderness. I wondered if I could ever summon the courage to start something I knew I was not going to see mature on account of the short, fleeting nature of my perfectly human life.

Suddenly, I felt fingers running through my loose hair. Some of the hairs were pulled harder than others, pleasantly teasing and tickling my scalp. I felt someone's breath on my neck--a very familiar breath. Instinctively, I turned my head towards it.

Except there was no one there.

I could very well continue in my belief that I had imagined it all, if not for the silky gauze of the curtain on the window next to me quivering slightly. To be sure, I could have set it in motion myself accidentally, but somehow I didn't think that was the case.

From that point on, I began paying much more attention to what was happening with me and around me. The more I listened, the more I became convinced that the impossible was in fact very much possible. No matter what I spent my days doing, I would feel some invisible fingers touching me, caressing my face, holding my hand almost imperceptibly, sliding down my neck or my legs. Someone else's cool breathing gave me goose bumps from up close, fondling the skin on my cheek or shoulder, sliding down my back. "Dia-a-na-a-a-a..." whispered a voice on the borderline of the hearing range. At times, I would catch on my lips the barely perceptible kiss from my dream. Yet, no matter how quickly I turned I could not catch the cheeky rascal red-handed.

Becoming aware of such troublesome symptoms, anyone else would most likely seek psychiatric help. However, I recalled that there had already been a period in my life--right after Kristoff removed me from my parents' house--when I noticed similar things. From the first days in his house, the feeling of someone being right next to me at all times and fleeting, invisible touches drove me nuts. Back then, I concluded that it was my own imagination acting out in response to unbearable stress. Awaiting my impending demise at the time, I did not believe the obsession to be important and simply brushed it all off as a compulsive fantasy. Now, when more of the same reinforced those vague memories from the past, I became convinced it was Kristoff who was responsible.

One thing remained unclear though--namely, how he pulled it all off. Was it a function of his ability to move so fast that a human eye wouldn't be able to catch him in the act? I knew he could do that. Or was it hypnosis? It was not like he could in fact be invisible--or could he?

Asking all those questions, I realized how little I actually knew about him.

As a consequence, I became somewhat paranoid. Getting into a room, I would open the door just a crack--enough for me to slip through--and then slam it back shut, triumphant that this time he did not manage to make it in. However, feeling a light touch on my hand immediately thereafter, I would jump, startled and annoyed. Really, could he walk through the walls, too? I staunchly refused to believe in anything paranormal.

Realizing that he happened to have been close at all times and watching me in a variety of... um... situations, made me extremely tense at dinnertime. As I looked at Kristoff sitting right across the table from me, his uncharacteristically jovial mood vexed me even more. Yet, every time I threw an angry look at him, he would become profoundly interested in something going on outside, out the window, though the corners of his lips would quiver traitorously, giving away the naughty smile he was barely able to hold back. Naturally, this unusual behavior couldn't fail to attract Jenob's and Moira's attention, but they limited their reactions to theatrically raised brows and perplexed looks.

Finally, unable to stand the mockery any longer, I excused myself, blaming my poor appetite, and got up.

"Are you all right, Diana?" dastardly Kristoff called after me, care incarnate, when I was already by the door. I thanked him for his concern, slammed the door behind and rushed to the library, eager to lose myself in one of my favorite books. On the way there, I heard someone laughing quietly.

Barely had I managed to read a few pages from a randomly picked book, when Kristoff showed up again.

"Mind if I join you?" He was all courtesy.

"It's your house," I grumbled.

Stifling a laugh, he proceeded to the bookshelves, seemingly oblivious to my suspicious gaze following him all along, picked a book and settled into a distant armchair far behind my back.

No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on my book, it was to no avail. Finally, the story picked up little by little and I became more and more engrossed in my reading.

Someone's cool fingers caressed my cheekbone.

Immersed in my book, I shuddered, startled by the sudden touch, and twitched in my armchair, breathing heavily and looking around, furious and annoyed.

"Anything wrong, Diana?" Turning a page, Kristoff gave me a totally innocent look and a benevolent smile. Sitting in his armchair by the window, as he had been before, he seemed relaxed and unflustered.

No, really! How dared he! At a loss for words, I simply exhaled, loudly and angrily.

"Didn't we agree you wouldn't ignore me any longer?" he said, phony reproach in his voice.

"Yeah, like I could really ignore you!" I mumbled through my teeth and turned away. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught his smile morphing into a wicked grin.

There was the familiar caress upon my neck, sliding down the cleavage...

"Kristoff! Stop it!" Indignant, I turned as if on a dime and saw him sitting in the same chair, his old relaxed self now personifying surprise with great gusto. "Stop touching me!"

"What do you mean?" He was innocence itself.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" I hissed, jumping off my chair. "You keep touching me all the time! Stop it!"

For a moment, I thought he was finally going to lose it and burst out laughing, but his sympathetic eyes shone with such concern that I almost took what he was saying at face value.

"Diana, I understand that you have had a lot on your plate lately... Anyone else would have cracked by now." His concerned voice was beyond compare. "Nevertheless, these are very serious symptoms, and if they really bother you I think we should seek professional help. Don't worry, I know a good psychiatrist..."

A grumble of utter helplessness on my lips, I rushed out of the library. The familiar soft laughter followed...

All nerves, I barely made it through the day, shuddering at every step as his touches and teasing breath followed me everywhere. Finally, I went to bed, realizing that sooner or later I was bound to get used to that wicked new strategy of his.

Falling asleep, on the very verge of consciousness, I felt his lips on mine and heard a low whisper:

"Sleep well, my Diana..."

 

** ** **

My confusion grew even worse as I realized that on top of it all I was being skillfully manipulated.

The first few weeks after the truce were rife with constant conflicts that flared up, matured and got resolved in a suspiciously uniform manner.

I would bear witness to yet another cruelty or injustice against some servant or other and stand up to Kristoff to protect the poor wretch. Kristoff would show amazing willingness to relent... in return for yet another small concession from me. They were generally small things--such as sitting next to him at the dinner table, watching movies together ("Take your pick, Diana!") at the home theater, taking walks with him in the garden... Every one of those little steps brought me a bit closer.

Oh yes, he was a clever one.

When the familiar scenario played itself out in front of me for the tenth time or so, I crossed my arms over my chest and only shook my head, admitting defeat and barely able to keep back laughter.

"Just tell me what it is you want this time!"

Kristoff's eyes lit up right away and he readily offered:

"How about we go be seen together by the media?" Never giving another thought to the "offender," he graced me with a radiant smile. From that point on, he never resorted to that trick again.

Later on, looking at the photos of the "famous businessman and patron of the arts and his beautiful companion" in glossy magazines, I wondered how his "cover" was going to change, say, thirty years or so down the road when the wonders of modern cosmetology could no longer be used to explain his never-changing looks. Would he still need me then, old and wrinkly? The answer was obvious: probably not.

Loath that I was to admit it, Kristoff was winning, like always, and I was gradually getting used to things that would have been totally unacceptable to me before. I vanquished my old fear of him so completely that sometimes, after watching a movie with him in the cozy darkness, I wondered how I could possibly have been scared of him before.

Little by little, my vindictive reluctance to speak with him also became a thing of the past. What started as short, terse answers on my part gradually evolved into willingness to ask questions, prompted, in no small part, by his unusual patience. He turned out to be a brilliant conversationalist, a fount of all kinds of knowledge and experience with a very sharp mind. But how could it possibly be any different?

I stopped looking away when someone would drink human blood from a large goblet at dinner, typically with great relish. I looked at the juicy steak in front of me on the table and realized that I needed food, too. Naturally, the domestics felt much safer now that I was there to protect them, and the fierce master's temper tantrums became a thing of the past. Whether that was good enough an excuse for my growing willingness to put up with the kind of diet Kristoff and his family ate, I wasn't sure.

I no longer shuddered at his touches, which became as familiar as the light breeze in the garden. They grew different, too. While it took me a fair amount of concentration to feel them before, now he touched me so openly that I could always know for sure when Kristoff was near. By the same logic, I sometimes thought it would make perfect sense if he himself became at least partially visible while at it, but he was still as stealthy as ever. When he did appear in the flesh, be it at the dining room, in the garden or in the bedroom, he was innocence itself. That somehow implied that any attempt to bring the matter up openly would wind up with him questioning my sanity again.

Thus the great stage production continued, to the director's delight.

At times, when I didn't feel his touches for a while, I caught myself looking around, concerned that he wasn't there. Seductive whispering ("You were made for me, Diana...") angered me no longer. It made me smile...

 

** ** **

Finally, there came a day when I could set foot outside: Kristoff took me to the opera.

Though hardly two months had elapsed since the time he had brought me back, it sometimes felt like my life as a free person was now years behind.

Not that I suffered much. My new life at that place was absolute heaven as compared to my old lot there, which I knew was going to give me recurring nightmares till the day I died. Nor could I honestly say that I was bored. On the contrary, my waking hours were barely long enough to do everything I had to or wanted to do. Nor was I lonely. When Moira wasn't around, Kristoff usually was, invisible or in the flesh.

Yet, the more I got used to the role of the full-fledged lady of the house, the more it hurt me to realize that the cage was locked. And I desperately wanted to spread my wings.

It could be that I spent increasingly more time by the window, longingly watching the horizon or following vehicles leaving the estate with my eyes. Whatever it was, one night Kristoff asked me, as if in passing:

"Diana, what do you say we go to the opera tomorrow? They sent me some opening night tickets, and I thought--"

"Yes, yes, I'd love to!" I cried happily, before he could even finish the sentence, and then added, unexpectedly: "I just love the opera!"

As he gave me an ironic look, I realized, somewhat belatedly, that he had just called my bluff. He was sure to know that the only two times my parents had managed to drag me along to the opera "for general enrichment," I could barely sit through the entire performance.

"When should I be ready tomorrow?"

I hoped that perfectly practical question would take his mind off the issue of my excessively wild enthusiasm.

"Six would be good," he said, shaking his head and smiling sarcastically. "I take it this great opera lover doesn't care to know what it is we are going to see?" I was an open book to him.

I laughed:

"Not in the least!"

So, the following night, having gotten myself ready in a record short time (for a woman, that is), I was virtually jumping with excitement in the hall. Kristoff, on the other hand, was in an unusually foul mood, as if it wasn't even his idea to go, and only upon meeting my brightly lit eyes did he ease up a little himself. I was wondering what could sour him up on the idea so much, but figured I had better enjoy the outing as much as I possibly could. All smiles, I got into the car.

No, I wasn't kidding myself at all. Not even government officials of major countries traveled with such a security escort. Surrounded with a double cordon on all sides, our car had the road pretty much to itself, stopping all the other traffic dead in its tracks. Overhead, there were helicopters.

He's nuts, I was cursing silently.

Helping me into the car, Kristoff took me by the hand and never let go, not even for a second. The further we went, the gloomier he became, squeezing my fingers ever harder in response to whatever troubled thoughts he was thinking. I was about to ask him what the problem was, but he suddenly frowned and squashed my hand so painfully that I had to beg.

"Kristoff, let me go!"

He looked at me, and his face was dark as night.

I felt the bone crack in my index finger.

"Ouch, it hurts! My finger!" I was almost crying.

His unseeing eyes now focusing on my poor bloodless fingers, he exhaled sharply and relaxed his iron grip. The pain went away immediately, and I sighed with relief, hastily checking if any bones had indeed been broken. Luckily, none had.

"I didn't mean to...", Kristoff mumbled listlessly and covered his eyes. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't..."

Carefully, as if it were a delicate flower, he took my hand and kissed it, and then kissed it again and held it against his cool cheek, his eyes closed. I saw his fingers tremble and realized I now knew the real reason he was so depressed. He was simply afraid of losing me again. Letting me out of my secure cage, with his guard dogs all around me, and holding me by the hand himself, he was still afraid!

After all, I had escaped once...

My heart sank. Yes, he was holding me against my will. Yes, he was a monster and acted as his true nature compelled him. But boy, the price he was paying for my joy ride was high indeed!

Unexpectedly, I knew I wanted to take some of the burden off his shoulders and ease his worries.

"Kristoff..." Holding his eyes, I put my other hand on his chest. "I am not going to run away... any time soon." I smiled guiltily, as if apologizing for not being able to say "never." "Today, you can rest easy. I give you my word."

He was looking at me, and the doom in his emerald eyes was lifting, little by little... making room for the fire that burned hotter with every new breath. I suddenly realized my hand may have stayed on his chest a tad too long, and that he was pressing my hand to his face a tad too hard...

Oh no, I thought, feeling thoroughly confused, I am not ready for this. Then I added, for now, once again surprising myself.

Fully aware of how hot my face was and how fast my heart was beating, I made an effort to shift my gaze away and looked out the window. "Oh, it looks like we are here already!" I said with deliberate enthusiasm and put my free hand on the seat, gently trying to wiggle my other hand out as well.

Still, Kristoff continued to hold on to me, making me raise my eyes to him again. Then he kissed my wounded fingers tenderly one more time and said:

"Thank you, Diana... And thanks for the promise, too."

Yet, he never did let go of my hand.

 

** ** **

My memory preserved the image of a large hall, full of noble gold sparkling and subdued light emanating from old crystal chandeliers. The low murmur of conversation and the sounds of the orchestra warming up became one, creating a signature background that anyone who had been to the opera at least once would recognize easily. To my surprise, I wondered how I could possibly fail to grasp the unique charm of the place in my youth.

Not even the horde of guards loitering everywhere, preventing any attempts to escape on my part, however unlikely, could spoil the fun, even though it did seem that most of those around were of a homogeneously solid build and hardly human.

At a closer look, I was amazed at how accurate my original assessment was: indeed, there were no humans among the public.

Except for me.

From the splendor of our presidential box--well, duh, where else would omnipotent Kristoff and "his beautiful companion" sit?--I gazed over the full house below, wondering what the occasion might be that brought them all together. I did not remain oblivious to the signs of respect afforded Kristoff and numerous attempts by many to strike up a conversation with him. He behaved very much like a spoiled prince, deigning a few with his answers and completely ignoring most others. Full of secret vanity, I found pleasure in the fact that instead he paid deliberate attention to me and kept smiling at me.

I wondered how I came through in the eyes of that high society. As a tasty dish? An exotic accoutrement--or capricious whim of their loony overlord? Or a conglomeration of the above? No one offered any opinions openly, and it was totally impossible to read anything in their eyes, which shone with centuries of experience of hiding their true thoughts and intentions. Only occasionally did a spark of interest light up the eyes of men, and of envy in those of women.

The crystal waterfalls under the ceiling dimmed slowly, and the overture began. Following the charming sounds of music, the curtain went up, revealing a stage full of people. As it dawned on me that they were indeed people, I took a spasmodic breath. Even thick layers of theatrical makeup failed to conceal the utter paleness of their skin and the depth of fear in their eyes--the very same kind of fear that was only recently strangling the life out of me.

They knew who they were singing for.

"Kristoff!" I turned to him, only to realize he was watching me closely.

"Go ahead, Diana. Nothing you say in this box will ever leave it, that's the way it's been built. No one in the stalls will hear you."

"The actors are human, and the public... are not." There was now no doubt in my mind at all.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Why? Or does your kind consider singing an unworthy occupation?"

He took a while, thinking, as if trying to solve a complicated problem, and finally offered:

"Not at all. Moreover, some even reach fairly impressive heights in this endeavor..."

"But?"

"... only people sing in productions staged specifically for us. Few know about it, and more often than not the cast itself remains unaware of who they are singing for..."

"Oh, but these people do know!"

"How do you know that?" Though surprised, Kristoff made no effort to dispute my assessment.

I looked him in the eye, and he knew what I was about to say even before any words flew off my lips.

"They are terrified!" I leaned closer to make sure I didn't miss any of his response. "You like that, don't you? It's a crucial part of the show, right?"

For quite some time, Kristoff kept his silence, apparently loath to risk losing my good disposition by telling the truth--or lying. In the end, he sighed and relented:

"I didn't think you'd figure it out, or I wouldn't have brought you with me." His eyes were drilling me with scary determination. "You've seen plenty of my bad sides, and I am not going to hide yet another one from you. You either accept me the way I am, or..."

Technically, that wasn't a question, but Kristoff was still waiting for an answer. We were both aware of the importance of the moment.

"Them," I pointed at the stage. "They are not going to have anything nasty happening to them! That's what matters. I don't care about anything else."

I had no idea how accurate my prediction was going to be.

"So be it!" Kristoff gave me a fierce look and, having let go of my hand for the first time that night, briskly walked out of the box.

He didn't know that fate was going to play a trick on him that night. Getting ready for the special show, the organizers had installed some additional new equipment in the presidential box to amplify the sound and make sure the important guests didn't miss any nuances of the masterful performance, even when listening casually.

So I missed no nuances.

"No one touches the actors tonight!" Kristoff roared, as clearly as if he were mere yards away from the box.

I could see his tall frame at the far end of the hall, apparently talking to three other men. Forgetting the show, all the spectators turned their way as one.

"But Kristoff, all the rights have already been acquired! By well known individuals, too!"

"No matter! The cast gets to go home after the show! Alive!"

"But the losses..." someone mumbled meekly. "Everything has been paid for! Bets were made! Even Her Excellency desires one of the humans! We can't just--"

The following moment, the speaker's body was dangling in the air off Kristoff's hand. Instinctively, I grabbed my own neck with my both hands, recalling the horrible feel of it.

"I'll say it one more time!" There was no need to see him up close; I knew the look on his face when he roared that way, like an animal. "Cancel the reservations, and the bets! Give them their money back and let the cast go--or tomorrow this entire shebang goes out of business! You know I could do it. You want to see what your losses are going to look like then?"

In an hour, we were on our way home. My hand habitually rested in Kristoff's. In the dim light of the dashboard, his eyes looked unusually tired. In them, for the first time ever, I could see the reflection of the countless years that had failed to leave any marks on his face.

When we were almost home, I finally found the courage to say something I wanted to say all the way down.

"I want to thank you."

"What for?" There was a tinge of surprise in his voice.

"For helping me trust your words... and you."

The burden of his long years melted into a smile.

 

** ** **

The following morning, recalling what had transpired at the opera, I tried to comprehend the magnitude of what Kristoff had done for me. Now I understood that the place was sold out not so much on account of the show itself, but rather in anticipation of the very specific kind of entertainment that was to follow afterwards. Unknowingly, my demands deprived the eager patrons of the main attraction.

Naturally, that wasn't the first "opening night" ever, nor would it be the last. Without a doubt, nothing I said could change the nature of all those "opera lovers." Still, Kristoff didn't think twice before going against all of them, and all because it was important for me.

In truth, what he had done bordered on the impossible.

Somewhat belatedly, I wondered with a heavy heart if his actions might come back to haunt him. Bewildered, I only shook my head at that thought: could I ever think I'd be worried about something bad happening to Kristoff? To be sure, my entire world was turning upside down!

After breakfast, grabbing another cup of coffee, I headed to the library for an hour before getting on with regular household chores that multiplied profusely as the date of the ball was drawing near.

I didn't really feel like reading, so I found a book with great photos of animals and just leafed through it lazily. Almost all the books in the library were high quality hardcover editions printed on expensive paper and adorned with tastefully designed jackets. The one I was looking through was really big on photos, skillfully taken by a real professional who had managed to capture the essence and minute motions of the subject matter in each and every one of his shots. I knew I could spend hours admiring the tank-like rhino charging the camera or the dispassionate moose chewing his chew.

Turning yet another page, I saw a tiger stretching lazily in the shade. Amazingly, the animal's relaxed posture spelled both laid-back repose and the ultimate readiness to pounce at any moment. Admiring the vibrant hues of its hide, I couldn't resist the urge to stroke it. As my fingers traced the animal's back, I wondered whether its fur would be soft or coarse to the touch. The longer I looked at the tiger, the more I felt that its unperturbed demeanor, full of vigor and poorly veiled danger, reminded me of someone. I couldn't help smiling. But of course! There was the spitting image of Kristoff in front of me, complete with his burning eyes of a predator!

What would it feel like to stroke his back? My hand caressed the tiger picture again. Slide my hand along his powerful arms? My finger traced the beast's paw. What would his thick, dark hair feel like if I ran my hand through it and heard the tiger growl back? Was it soft or coarse? What would it feel like to see his burning eyes so close that the fire inside could jump across the narrow divide and incinerate us both to a handful of ashes?

I slammed the book shut and fixed my gaze on the floor, breathing heavily, hearing my heart count off its loud beats.

But the fantasy was too vivid and wouldn't just go away. In my mind's eye, I still saw a picture of Kristoff's body, in all the intricate detail my wicked memory had captured during our encounters by the bathroom door. My memory also gave me an immediate reminder that it was the towel that prevented it from taking stock of absolutely everything.

Something had to be done about it, and soon!

I rushed out of the library and into the nearest bathroom, where I spent quite some time splashing cold water on my face. The mirror above the sink stared back at me with my own insane eyes, and my flaming cheeks just kept burning...

All the way through the day, as I went about my regular chores, I tried in vain to beat back my compulsive fantasies. I became so engrossed in that subconscious fight that it was only when the sun began going down that I realized I had not felt Kristoff by my side for quite some time. I decided that it was absolutely for the best and went for a walk in the garden, hoping that the fresh air would finally cool me off.

Barely aware of where I was going, I was giving myself a pep talk. I told myself it was all because I had not had a man for so long. Of course, it had nothing to do with Kristoff being so handsome and smart, and strong, and charming, and sexy... Oh, damn!

On a lawn in front of me, there sat a tiger.

Mesmerized, I stared at it as a whirlwind of crazy thoughts flashed through my head. There, all those fantasies finally drove me nuts. Literally. Now there was no avoiding that shrink...

"Don't worry, Diana, I am holding it down!"

Kristoff, whom I didn't notice at first, was sitting right next to the tiger, holding it by the massive collar.

"He is not going to do you any harm. He isn't fast enough!" Kristoff smiled and gestured me to come closer. "Come on over, you can pet him!"

My feet felt like they grew roots. I couldn't squeak out a sound.

My morning fantasy opened its mouse and yawned, revealing a forest of dagger-sharp fangs and a tender pink tongue. However, what I really couldn't take my eyes off of was Kristoff's unbuttoned shirt collar, his bright lips, his... I swallowed hard and willed myself to look at the tiger.

"Don't be afraid, Diana, it will behave."

"What is it, all tame?" I could barely recognize my voice squeaking.

Kristoff looked back at me, but I tried to avoid his eyes. It would be better if he thought I were simply afraid.

"Well, it isn't exactly a pussycat..." Laughing notes in Kristoff's low voice were unmistakable. "But we kind of agreed that I am the man of the house here. He drew the tiger's monstrous head close to his own face and I could see the animal shrink with fear, its ears pulled back tight against its skull.

So he must have been there, at the library, after all, I thought. I wondered, which of my other desires he had been able to discern, in addition to petting the tiger?

I felt my face burning again.

"I know you wanted to pet it. I know." He was now dangerously close.

Pulling myself together, I looked at the tiger with deliberate interest and asked:

"How do you even know?"

"I took a guess," Kristoff laughed.

He was in a great mood, and I wondered why.

"Come, don't be shy. We'll do it together."

Covering my hand with his, he began moving them both lightly, down the animal's bright, sunlit hide.

The fur was soft.

"Is there anything you can't do?" I asked, wondering where on Earth he could get a tiger in the span of a few hours I did not feel him near.

"I'll tell you, Diana." He suddenly grew sad. "There are a few things. Not many. But there are still some, unfortunately."

"No, there are not!" Full of desire instead of my regular hatred, I finally summoned the courage to look him straight in the eye--for the first time that day. "Trust me on that!"

He gave me a smile and petted the tiger again with my hand, keeping it safely in his.

All that time I was beating down my curiosity: what would his hair feel like?

 

** ** **

The time dragged on like never before. Whenever I looked at the clock, it seemed that only the seconds hand was moving. And even that one wasn't fast enough.

Every minute or so, my jittery hands found something to do: fix my hair, adjust my clothes, straighten a wrinkle on the tablecloth, then realign glasses and dishware on it--anything at all to help curb my impatience in some way. I was all pins and needles because my family was about to arrive at any moment. I had not seen them for three years.

When Kristoff suggested we invite them over, at first I didn't even know what to say since I simply did not believe it possible--not even after growing fairly comfortable with my new role as the full-fledged lady of the house. Additionally, I was concerned about a number of things. Even though we parted well on the day I escaped, our relations in the past were far from cloud-free. What could I possibly expect now, asking my family to come see me at the house of their former creditor and sworn enemy? But then, after some serious soul searching, I realized that I missed them and wanted to see them.

As the sound of a car approaching grew closer, I rushed toward the front door, almost running. Never mind the proper protocol, I just couldn't bear waiting until they were ushered into the living room.

Finally, they came in. My father--fairly timeworn but still radiating power and authority--looked much better than the last time I saw him. It appeared that us having reconciled meant a lot to him. My mother, her lips already quivering and eyes full of tears, couldn't take her bewildered yet happy eyes off of me. Natalie, much older but as well-groomed as ever, looked a true matriarch, her obvious fear notwithstanding. My brother Paul, who had been working for my father's company since his teens, was a little pale and had dark circles under his eyes. It did not appear he was getting too many breaks as the boss' son.

My smiling aunt Lydia, looking almost at ease, was the first person I embraced.

"Diana!" As my mother pressed me to her chest, tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving dark trails on my clothes.

Natalie, all blood suddenly drained out of her lips, looked at me as if I were a ghost and mumbled something unintelligible.

"We were almost certain you were--"

"Dead, I know," I managed to smile.

"Well, yes... perhaps... but you seemed to be on the run then! And now you are here, which means--"

"Yes, Kristoff managed to find me."

Brimming with excitement, Lydia cut in.

"We were certain we would finally have to answer for helping you escape! So when the car came for us today, we thought--"

"No, that was just me asking you over," I hurried to interrupt, eager to have any other horrible fears my family may have had left unsaid.

"Diana!" Convulsively, Natalie grabbed at my hand. "You can't even imagine what we had to go through! I bid my baby farewell, and my husband..." She burst into uncontrollable sobs.

My mother began crying again. She was also convinced they were all about to die. I couldn't imagine that my innocent wish to see my family would lead to this. Apparently, Kristoff never told them what they were being invited for. He simply gave them an order to be ready when a car arrived to pick them up.

They came prepared to die.

It couldn't possibly be an oversight on his part--I knew him well enough to know he had done it that way on purpose. Deliberately. Even though I understood his motives, I felt my old, if almost dormant, profound hatred of him flare up with renewed strength.

"What are you..." My aunt left the question hanging, and all eyes turned to me.

"I live here."

My family froze, a grimace to suit every taste visible on their stunned faces: surprise, bewilderment, disbelief, disgust... To be sure, they hoped I was all right. Undoubtedly, they were happy to see me. But learning that this was now my home...

Only Lydia gave me a knowing smile, winked and took me by the hand.

"All right, madam, show us your place!"

And so we went on a tour.

The house could not leave anyone indifferent. Everything there screamed money and unlimited power. Naturally, it also spoke to the owners' impeccable taste and sense of style. Still, my family stepped on the tessellated floors with great care, all bunched together in a terrified little group. They didn't even dare look at things directly, throwing occasional sideway glances. For them, that was where terror lived. My aunt alone walked freely next to me, traversing that huge beautiful house, past the servants standing at attention, and only squeezed my hand every once in a while and smiled at me.

"How long do you think you'll be able to hold on to all of this?" asked Paul, ever the pragmatist, after we all exchanged a few meaningless phrases in the living room.

"Excuse me?" I didn't expect anyone to broach that delicate subject.

"How long..." He frowned, as if contemplating whether he should really speak his mind. "Of course, we saw the pictures of you next to Kristoff in the press. But to be honest with you, we were certain that once he finally caught up with you he was simply having some fun. It's not like you'd volunteer for something like that, right? You couldn't possibly be happy next to--"

"But I am all right now!"

"... this monster," he finished, disregarding my words. "On the way here we were all certain you were long gone... And that we were about to follow suit! So that's why I am asking: what are you to him?"

"That is none of your business!" cracked a sharp voice. "Let me remind you that Diana belongs to us. She is safe here. That's all you need to know."

No one saw Kristoff enter the room, and now that he was here my family froze with fear. Unblinkingly, they stared at the table, and I thought I could hear their hearts racing. Not too long ago that would have been my reaction as well! How things had changed!

I sighed and covered my face with my hand, getting ready for an impending tempest. As seconds ticked away, the strain in the room became almost palpable.

"Good afternoon to you all," Kristoff suddenly said, playing an amiable, albeit somewhat sarcastic host. "I am glad to see you. Diana's family is my family!"

"God forbid," Paul sighed heavily.

In the ensuing dead silence, Kristoff gave him a heavy look.

"If there's anything you should worry about, it's not my lack of hospitality."

The grumbling notes in his voice told me I needed to save the situation, and quickly. With awkwardly deliberate gaiety, I jumped to my feet.

"How about we continue this over dinner?"

The jingle of dishware and cutlery in the hands of terrified guests did little to lift the deadly gloom around the dinner table. My family's apparent unease gave me no joy, but at the same time I didn't want to eliminate the reason for it--Kristoff--altogether. On the contrary, I felt more and more eager to have them accept him as a part of my life. Because that's what he was.

My attempts to encourage general conversation only succeeded in producing a few passive responses. Natalie alone cheered up a little, telling me about her son and my old girlfriends who were eager to see me. But gradually, even she pulled back into an uneasy silence.

"Oh, God damn you, Kristoff!" my father suddenly blew up, making everyone jump with surprise. Forgetting his manners, red as a beet, he slammed his fist on the table and began rising from his place, getting taller with every new word he uttered. "It wasn't enough for you to take her away from us, to make her your servant and some kind of a blood cow! You also had to do this!"

I was ready for any kind of a response from Kristoff--anything at all: screaming, throwing a temper tantrum, even committing murder! Instead, totally unperturbed, he turned to Paul and asked him:

"Why don't you tell your father how much more money you lost gambling? I mean, above the limit he set for you?"

My brother, paler than ever, just mumbled meekly under his breath:

"About four times as much..."

My father gave a heavy sigh of disbelief and fell back into his chair. Kristoff shifted his gaze to him.

"I am sure that you, Jacob, have already told your wife, whom you love dearly--which, of course, is one of your few redeeming qualities--that you will soon have to sell your house to avoid bankruptcy."

Breathing heavily through his mouth, like a beached fish, my father groaned: "How did you..." And then he was screaming again, his furious eyes shooting daggers, "It is all your doing!"

Once again, I was surprised by Kristoff's unbelievable patience. Calmly looking at my father, he answered, his voice totally unchanged:

"Ever since Diana left your home, I have lost whatever interest in you I had. I must admit though that after she fled I wanted to make you all disappear without a trace. But I never did do anything that could harm you in any way."

Thinking of what it must have cost him to keep his calm and realizing that he was doing it all for me, I smiled against my own will. However, my joy was short-lived. All it took was mulling his words a tad longer.

"I don't think I would have given you another thought..." He shifted his gaze to me, smiling. My heart sank, responding. "But Diana happens to mean a lot to me, and it is for her sake--and for her sake only--that I am willing to put up with this nonsense from you. Diana will tell you that patience is not exactly my strong suit."

An involuntary grimace touched my lips: it was all so true!

A modicum of understanding dawned on their faces, with a preponderance of joy on Lydia's and fear on mother's. My sister gave me an altogether admiring look.

"So you are going to help us out?" said my practical brother, striking his iron while it was still hot.

Kristoff ignored him.

My father, on the other hand, only grumbled at him angrily:

"You are still not getting what your sister has gotten herself into!"

Finally, it was my turn to speak my mind, and I was seething! How dared they look down on me--they who had sold me to pay their debts!

"Enough!"

Everyone turned to me, and I let them all have it, speaking passionately, my eyes darting from one face to another:

"I never had it as good as here, not even at home. I have everything I could possibly wish for, I have things to do, and I have time to myself. I feel... such care (my voice crackled for a moment) as I have never received from any of you! Besides, Kristoff has a sister, who is my best friend, better than any I've had before. I am doing great! I hope that some day, when Kristoff learns to trust me more, it will all be--"

I shifted my gaze to Kristoff, and the look on his face knocked the wind out of me. I have never seen him smile like that before. He was radiating happiness!

"I trust you, Diana." His eyes, his smile and his voice went deep and touched my heart. For a moment, we were all alone...

The he looked back at the guests.

"You can come visit Diana here whenever you like. I think she'll be glad to see you. She is also free to go visit you at your place. There are no more restrictions."

Dumbstruck by his words, I froze. Recalling our trip to the opera, I often thought that I would never be able to leave the estate on my own, that there would always be a legion of guards around, and my hand would rest firmly in his. Was what I said really so important to him that it changed all of that in a heartbeat?

Kristoff continued:

"These problems of yours, I think they could be solved. And stop fidgeting for no good reason! Forget your fear, you are safer now than you have ever been! Besides, Jacob, you need not worry about Diana. She lives in my house in a totally different capacity. Diana is absolutely safe... no matter what she decides." That last part came through as a mere whisper.

At that moment, my mother's hands stopped trembling, and an uneasy wrinkle on father's forehead relaxed. A broad smile blossomed on my aunt's face. She saw more than others.

 

** ** **

Searching my mind for an answer as to why on earth I had even bothered asking them over, all I could find was an indeterminate "um." I had never really been close to any of them. I couldn't even really call any of them a friend. Moreover, years had passed since the last time we saw each other, and I understood I was basically going to meet with strangers.

So, why indeed?

It wasn't easy to admit, not even to myself, that I simply wanted to make an impression. I wanted to prove to them (and to the entire world in their guise) that I could also have a normal life. That I had seized my lucky chance and was now happy! Oh, yes, that old, vain Diana Snowe wasn't quite dead yet.

Looking at my own reflection in the mirror, I was looking for the signs of my past suffering... and found none. It was so strange! All those times I looked at myself in the mirror before, I never thought of how my crazy life had to age me before my time. I never changed much, my ostentatious self cooed contentedly. I look as good as ever! But for how long? The eyes of the beauty in the mirror tensed up. Kristoff was the one who was not going to change... All of a sudden, my breathing became labored.

Taking my eyes off the mirror brought welcome relief and I proceeded to give the house one final look over. I peeked out into the garden, then walked back into the living room, holding my head high: everything was impeccable! All of a sudden, I thought that I was proud of the house and things that not long ago I would have been all too happy to burn to the ground. If Kristoff knew that, he would sure have a reason to be happy.

Kristoff... my lips spread into a smile of their own accord.

 

They came right on time--Amy, Vicky... With growing bewilderment, I realized that I could not even recall the names of the other two. Then why did I even bother with them?

Well-groomed and pampered, their every move stilted and deliberate, their body glove dresses accentuating not just their every curve, but, it seemed, every mole and pimple as well, those beautiful young women had hardly anything left in common with the lightheaded young girls I remembered.

"Diana, darling!" Amy exclaimed, embracing me like I was a long-lost sister of hers. "Where have you been? We've heard you moved overseas."

"I did." I freed myself, croaking out the banal "Love brought me back!" At the same time, I was thinking of how true it actually was. Kristoff's unrelenting attention, the constant flame of desire in his eyes, all his little tricks and touches--could it be anything but? Indeed, his love brought me back...

That dizzying train of my thought was interrupted by Vicky.

"What a stylish house! And the garden is so beautiful! It is all so nice!" she offered the usual compliments that barely disguised the envy in her eyes and those of the others. For them, I was the owner of all that magnificence. I pretended to be very pleased, once again annoyed with myself for having invited them.

A long pause ensued, finally interrupted by a servant that brought in coffee and treats on a tray. The air of artificial gaiety in the living room relaxed a bit. We exchanged a few meaningless phrases until, finally, someone voiced the big question on everyone's minds:

"So where is the person responsible for your happiness?"

Kristoff remained a mystery to them--someone much talked about with none of the rumors ever getting corroborated. He was an enigma, the epitome of money, power and opportunity--in a nutshell, everything most women could possibly dream of. Without a doubt, there had to be an entire flock of gold-diggers scurrying around him at all times.

Some of those may have even escaped with their lives, I thought, entertaining my mean streak. My "girlfriends" needed not voice the question. I could see it well enough in their eyes.

Why me? Naturally, some poor Cinderella I wasn't, nor were they, since their parents had just about as much money as mine. Yes, I could be proud of my good looks, but it's not like there was a shortage of beautiful girls in the world.

Why me?

"Fess up," Vicky demanded. "Where did you two meet? How long have you been together? What's he like in action?"

"What action?" I asked automatically, before the true meaning of that question hit home. The traitorous blush on my cheeks gave me away.

"Oh, come on, Diana!" Vicky sneered. "You know what I mean..."

"I sure don't!" Kristoff appeared in the doorway, smiling, innocence incarnate. "Good evening to you, my fair ladies! So, what have you been talking about?"

If I didn't know him so well, I may have indeed thought he was none the wiser. I sincerely hoped he'd stay away until that stiff-necked visit was over.

While I was fighting my confusion and annoyance, Kristoff came closer to kiss hands and pay each of my visitors a compliment all her own. Perplexed, I watched him crank his charm to the max. What the hell! A dark wave began rising inside of me.

My "friends" stared at him, doe-eyed, though sparks of their regular predator selves still flashed occasionally through their hypnotized gazes of maidens to be conquered.

Then he came up to me, sitting down next to me on the couch, taking my hand...

Time slowed down.

Slowly, never-endingly, his hand slid up and down my back, triggering a hot wave that swallowed me whole, and then, finally reaching around my waist, enveloped me and drew me closer, and closer still... I felt like no clothes separated us any longer and I could now feel him with my bare skin. I was afraid of looking him in the eye because I knew the world would then disappear, unnoticed. I simply froze, absorbing the eternity of his lips on my cheek, which, when finally breaking off, brushed my ear, scalding me with a wave of hot air. I heard him breathe in my scent, greedily, having finally reached my hair and tickling my cheek with his own. I felt him close, oh so close, discovering his own unique odor...

When he finally began drawing back I could not understand how I could possibly manage to prevent myself from grabbing his hair and dragging him back close.

I never noticed when time resumed its regular flow.

For the rest of the night, Kristoff was flirting with each of my "girlfriends" like there was no tomorrow, paying me no heed.

 

It was fairly late when they finally drove off and I could pluck my hand fiercely out of his, turn around and just walk off toward the hospitable host's own wing.

The screaming voice inside me reached its crescendo. That sneaky monster! That beast! I was going to pull that tiger's luxurious locks right out!

"Diana, what's the matter?"

He was walking backward in front of me, trying to lock his innocent eyes with my angry ones. Innocent my butt!

Inside of me, everything rocked and roared. Monster! How I hated him!

"Tell me what's wrong!"

Oh, of course I knew what kind of game he was playing! He was teasing me, trying to make me feel jealous again. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. That monster! And to think I was just about to--

"You are ignoring me again, Diana, aren't you? What did I do to deserve this?"

I stopped in my tracks and, unable to hold back any longer, screamed at the top of my lungs:

"Get out of my sight!"

The monster's voice came back, all velvety and dignified:

"Your wish is my command, my lady!"

And then he was gone.

And I growled--literally, out loud.

I flew up the stairs to my room and kept pacing the floor back and forth, breathing heavily. Still, I couldn't spend the night at it, could I? I began taking my clothes off for hope that a hot shower would calm me down.

Warm jets of water massaging my body made me feel better. My breathing almost got back to normal, but then, as the disconnect between the magic of his touches and what happened later hit me anew, my fury flared back up and I hit the wall so hard my hand would have been smashed to a bloody pulp had... had something invisible not stopped it a few inches short of the hard surface.

"If I only knew you could be so jealous, I would never have teased you so," Kristoff said quietly into my right ear.

Of course, now I was fully aware that he never denied himself the pleasure of feasting his eyes on my charms. Not only that, over the years he must have studied them in minute detail! Still, a moment before, not being able to see or hear him, I was at least in position to pretend I were alone. Now I couldn't even do that.

"I am not jealous!" I screamed, turning abruptly to the right. Yet, he remained invisible, and I kept looking around. "I am simply not in the mood!"

"Oh, yes, you are! And you know... I love it! I have a suspicion you are not altogether indifferent to me." Now he was laughing quietly into my other ear.

"Oh, yeah? I can't stand you! Stop ogling me! Enough!" Now there was no stopping me. "Uh-huh, jealous! Of whom?"

"Exactly, Diana! Of whom?" Now, coming from behind, his voice was all different. "There's no need to be angry. No one even comes close to you. You are special. If only you knew what you smell like..." Still invisible, he drew a loud lungful of air right next to my ear. "Oh, my! This is unbelievable! Come on, Diana, admit it, you like me, don't you?"

"No!" I insisted, faltering, unable to convince even myself.

"Come on, Diana! It will feel so good! You have no idea how much pleasure I could give you..." His voice enveloped me, virtually dripping with desire. "Say it! You like me, right?"

"No!" I whispered, not quite sure why.

"Oh, that scent!" He was really close now, his voice sporting new, unfamiliar notes--low, and a little hoarse.

I was not at all sure he was going to wait for me to say yes this time.

"Oh, and the taste of you! Yummmm!"

A touch in a place I didn't expect to be touched made me jump. I rushed outside, throwing the door open--and froze in my tracks. In front of me, there stood Kristoff, totally unperturbed, that chaste towel around his loins.

How does he even do that! I had time to think in a complete daze.

"You know, Diana," he said, a tinge of reproach in his voice, "I may well be very proud of my sang-froid, but if you keep tempting me so..." He paused and once again I could feel his gaze touching my body. "... I am warning you, I may not be able to control myself!"

Absolutely befuddled, I rushed right past him into my room, forgetting the towel I had left in the bathroom. Barely audible laughter followed me...

Thinking it over in bed, I realized that the way it was going I was not going to be able to hold back for much longer. Capitulation finally brought relief and I fell asleep, all relaxed, the familiar long kiss goodnight on my lips.

 

** ** **

The last few days before the ball reminded me of my first stint at the house, since they wore me out equally so. Which was kind of surprising since I didn't do any of the heavy lifting at all. Still, it appeared that organizing and overseeing any kind of a social function, making sure that everything proceeded as planned, took a lot of effort as well--especially when there were about as many things to do as there were drops in the ocean.

Impeccable that it was, the house was simply being made perfect: marble floors were polished, precious rugs and tapestries were cleaned, and minor, barely visible deficiencies were fixed. All of that came on top of the all-out cleaning effort.

A swarm of gardeners descended upon the estate. They were trimming hedges, mowing lawns and planting thousands of flowers to replace the ones that were no longer abloom, thus adding a variety of vibrant colors to the noble greenery of the old estate.

But at least the house and the garden could be put in order ahead of time. The kitchen was a totally different story. An entire troop of chefs and their helpers were checking and rechecking the supplies being delivered, cooking trial dishes and coordinating the menu to every last detail. And my job was to oversee it all.

Naturally, Moira stayed by my side, but she made it clear from the very beginning that she was just helping out. I was the real person in charge. Sometimes I even wondered how on earth they had managed it without me before and why I was now responsible for it all. Yet, those seemingly obvious questions only appeared to be simple and innocent at a glance. Any potential answers were rife with ever more danger. I kept my silence.

Besides, the weight of the world on my shoulders was, well, not the entire world. There was a special side to that holiday that I took no part in.

"You are not ready yet," Moira would say, cryptically.

Somehow, I was not particularly anxious to probe for more.

As the ball drew nearer, Kristoff grew less and less like his regular self. His charming smile that I had been so surprised to discover him capable of disappeared like it never existed. It was as if a different--worried, grumpy, asocial--Kristoff replaced him. I no longer felt him near. No wind played with my hair, no barely perceptible touches teased me, no one whispered into my ear about my magic scent. I was missing something even though I could not quite put my finger on what it was.

As the preparations for the ball kept me busy from dawn till dusk, I was spending my entire days with Moira. It took me a while to realize Kristoff was avoiding me even in the flesh--his place at dinner was empty, and we didn't bump into each other by the bathroom door any more.

I was surprised myself that it seemed to bother me so much.

"Moira, do you have any idea where Kristoff might be?" I finally asked her the night before the ball, wishing to evict the ghastly speculations that had taken up residence in my own mind.

"Is anything wrong, Diana?"

I faltered, not quite sure how to word my fears.

"Well... I am afraid he may be avoiding me. Do you think I may have offended him somehow?" I took special care not to look at her, not quite ready to believe I was really saying something like that.

"I don't think so..." Suddenly, Moira drew very close and looked me straight in the eye. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

I nodded, all too aware of my cheeks suddenly turning hot and pink. Delighted, Moira graced me with a broad smile.

"He is at the library now. Go, go talk to him!"

Feeling her shrewd--all too shrewd, to be sure--gaze on my back, I hurried towards the library.

Naturally, he must have known I was coming his way and met me half way, holding the door of the library open for me in the twilight. By that time, it was totally dark outside, and there was just one small desk lamp on in the library. I had an impression Kristoff had spent quite some time there.

The worried look on his face made his handsome features even sharper, more pronounced than usual.

"Kristoff..." I was not quite sure how to begin.

"Yes, go ahead, Diana."

"Did anything happen?"

He was in no rush to answer, so I continued:

"You know, lately, I haven't seen... or felt much of you..." I smiled, expecting another joke about my mental health, but he kept his silence. "When I see you like this, so gloomy... Is it something I did? Did I offend you somehow?"

Finally, a fleeting smile touched his lips.

"No, Diana, this has nothing to do with you."

Apparently mulling it over whether he should level with me, he looked at me intensely, biting his lip. For a moment, I was carried away into the world of my tiger fantasies.

I couldn't help but wonder, was it all the sharp white fang biting into his lip could do--cause pain? I was not so sure. Then there were the lips themselves... What did they taste like? Sweet, I told myself, making a resolute statement, my gaze fixed on his lips. Unwittingly, the tip of my tongue licked my own.

The lips smiled in all their tentative sweet splendor. They understood.

"... err... what?" I came back down to the library.

Still, Kristoff said nothing, staring at me intensely, and suddenly my whole essence burst with desire. His nostrils quivered momentarily and I somehow sensed he must be aware of everything going on in my body and soul. Oh, shucks!

"So, what's the problem, then?" I rushed to divert his focus to something else.

"The problem..." he repeated, as if on autopilot, and then exhaled noisily, his eyes down. When he brought them back up, the worried look was still on his face, but the smile made it all a little easier.

"It's the ball, Diana... You've heard a lot about it... from Moira, Jenob, the servants... your girlfriends even. Everyone told you the thuth--but only as much of it as they know themselves. I guess now it's time I gave you my own version of it."

He held a pause and then continued:

"As you know, we hold a reception every year for some select guests, and the word 'ball' is no more than a nod to the old tradition. I cherry-picked most of the attendees way back, and they come every year. For them, it is a great honor. For the most parts, any humans attending are just servants."

"Are you trying to say I will be an exception?"

Kristoff sighed, leaning against the table, his head down. Deep shadows painted stripes on his face, making him look so much more like that wild tiger of his.

Why didn't I ever notice before how beautiful his face is? The questions I now kept asking myself tended to have no answers...

Engrossed in his thoughts for a moment, he then looked back at me:

"No, you will not be an exception, Diana. I will have to introduce you as... as..."

Funny how I never expected Kristoff to have any difficulties saying the word. Either way, I decided to make it a little easier for him.

"As your lover, I know." I could barely help sneering.

"Yes, as a lover." He was still just as serious. "But that's not what it is about, of course. You will get to see the creme de la creme of my world tomorrow. They are not all that simple. Those in positions of power never stop fighting for it. They may only reach a temporary equilibrium for a time. I have not had anyone by my side at the ball for a long time, Diana, and your being here may be a good enough reason for some to try to upset that balance. But more likely than not, it will be a test for you rather than me, and you will be the one fighting them!"

Once again, Kristoff was oozing intense strain and I felt like taking some of the burden off his shoulders. In the most nonchalant of voices, I said:

"Whoever those guests may be, it is still only a ball!"

"No, it's not only a ball!" He shook his head and frowned, obviously upset by my inability to grasp the essence of it. "Some of them I only see once a year, during the reception--and I like it just fine that way! It used to be I was never afraid of anything, but now..." He caressed my cheek with his fingers, causing a virtual tempest inside my entire body. "Now I have you..."

To clear my mind, I drew back and offered:

"All right, then how about I stay away from the ball altogether?"

"No!" Kristoff interrupted. "No, Diana! You are a part of me now, and that means you must now always be present at the ball. I want you to get to know my milieu, and I want them to get to know you. At the very least, this needs to happen to make sure you are safe. Everyone must know you are mine. Officially."

My soul rejoiced at his words even though I was not quite sure what he meant by saying I must now always be present at the ball. Indeed, my time was awfully short: ten years, twenty tops--and then I would fade. I was fully aware of that.

By a pure act of will, I broke off that hopeless train of thought.

Still, despite all his revelations, I could sense it was not quite the reason for his worry. There was something else, something truly important, which he hadn't told me about yet.

"Kristoff, you promised me the truth, and you haven't told me all of it yet."

He clenched his teeth and looked away, loath to answer. Regardless, I stepped up, looked him in the face and whispered:

"What are you afraid of?"

He suddenly disappeared, reemerging near the black void of the window. I could only see his back when he said, in a colorless, flat tone of voice:

"I am afraid that after tomorrow you will once again be looking at me the way you were three years ago."

 

** ** **

Yes, the dress fit perfectly.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I only grew firmer in my initial conviction that red was indeed my color. With plenty of sparkle of my own, and now adorned in waves of scarlet silk, I looked like an exotic flower and a true eye magnet. With matching lipstick, long hair in a high do, radiant young skin... My eyes sparkled with joy--I looked the part for today's big function. It only remained to be seen what Kristoff was going to say when he saw me. I could tell he was not around.

The exhausting tension of the day before was replaced with a nearly-forgotten cold detachment. We had barely even said a few words to each other since morning. Moira and Jenob only exchanged silent looks whenever his tall silhouette froze by the window for long periods of time.

Feeling ill at ease, haunted by the ghosts of the past, for a hundredth time over I was trying to imagine what I'd have to encounter tonight. What could it possibly be that made Kristoff afraid of my attitude toward him changing?

Asking myself that, I could not but marvel at the vicissitudes of fate. How did it come to this, with me being so worried about such things? How did I become so sympathetic with his plight? How could such a monster come to possess my heart? It wasn't like he changed much on the inside, was it? It was still him who had taken me from my parents! Him who had made me watch the bloodbath that I kept seeing over and over again in my countless nightmares. It was still him who took time and effort to break me, to make me submit!

Quite possibly, it was because his very love was otherworldly, and though it was not an excuse, could it be... a mitigating factor, perhaps?

How did it happen that he became so dear to me--and dear he was indeed!

Angrily, the beauty in the mirror tossed her head. I hated that fear of the unknown! It was time I met it head on!

To raise my fighting spirit, I gave myself another admiring look and left the dressing room, a killer smile on my lips.

By the window, Kristoff stood frozen in that usual posture of his that worried me so much: hands behind his back, shoulders tense and prim. Clearly ill at ease, I felt I needed to cheer him up, no matter the cost. Sneaking upon him would make no sense. As my heels clicked down the stairs, as deliberate as little gunshots, I thought back to the time I first set foot on them, a miserable creature full of fear. Even from the back, Kristoff made for an impressive sight: tall, elegant, fit--and all mine. My smile grew even larger.

"Hey, mister!" I called playfully, anticipating his reaction. "How about you give your lady a look for a change?"

"My lady is as beautiful as ev--" he began, coldly and dispassionately, and then turned around and faltered.

This time, his quick wits and reflexes did little to save him from being absolutely astounded. At last! There was no more room for worry in his eyes. He was all desire! As his jubilant gaze slid up and down my body, I could feel a myriad tiny prickles of pleasure on my skin. A delicate smile lit his face.

No, left speechless he wasn't--he was simply prolonging the pleasure of seeing the glorious sight before him. Then, just as slowly and enjoying every moment of it, he came closer and took me by the hand.

"I have never seen you like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like, so ravishing!" And then his heartfelt secret slipped out: "Oh, Diana, I have been waiting for this kind of a smile for so long!"

Suddenly I felt annoyed and threw an angry look at the door. Everyone was already waiting, and we had to go.

To hell with that ball! All I wanted was to be with him!

Kristoff gave me an understanding nod. "We still have to go, I'm afraid." His finger under my chin perked my head up. "We need to give everyone else a chance to see how beautiful you are! Come, they are waiting for us..."

With every new step, the murmur of voices, music and the clinking of glasses became more and more distinct. Here and there, the even flow of subdued conversation was punctuated with multi-tonal bursts of reserved laughter. The guests must have had enough time by now to have a good look around and were socializing freely.

There were quite a few of them.

"Are you scared?" Kristoff looked at me, the signs of old worry in his eyes. Only a few steps separated us from that overflowing banquet hall.

"No." I really wasn't scared. Wanting to reassure him, I smiled as sweetly as I could, "How could I be? You're right here with me."

He touched my cheek, making the rest of the world fade for a moment...

"You can't even imagine how happy I am to hear it!" He flashed me a smile and drew me further, towards the staircase that led to the ballroom below. All of a sudden, someone cranked up the sound of the world all around us.

The ball rushed in, in all its splendor!

Through Moira's relentless efforts, the familiar ballroom had been transformed beyond any recognition. The unreal feel of suddenly seeing double that for a moment left me dumbfounded quickly revealed itself to have been caused by the far wall that was now completely covered with mirrors. The very next moment, I was captivated by the floor that appeared to be made of solid gold--as was the grand staircase that Kristoff and I were now descending. How did they do it? And when? Hidden fixtures filled the room with soft light that went amazingly well with the ancient candelabra--now sporting thick dark red candles dripping blood on the floor...

The countless sharp looks piercing me from all around quickly drew my attention away from all that magnificence. The eyes behind the looks were still dim, and the silhouettes fuzzy, but I already knew I had their undivided attention. Remembering Kristoff's warning about the inevitable "testing," I swore to myself I was not going to give him any reason to be ashamed of me.

Feeling him right next to me, leaning on his strong hand, I willed my nerves still, and my heartbeat measured and dignified. My face became an arrogant mask just like Kristoff's, behind which my confusion was reliably hidden from prying eyes.

Only then did I realize how quiet the room was: despite the huge audience, one could hear the drops of candle wax hit the floor, amplified as if in an empty cavern. However, the moment we set foot on the gold of the floor, music thundered and all the frozen statues came to life, welcoming us. It had to be a tradition of sorts.

Everyone nodded and bowed and paid compliments to Kristoff... but everyone was looking at me.

'... your being here may be a good enough reason for some to try to upset that balance...'

The variety of different dress styles around us was astonishing: waistcoats and hoop skirts openly coexisted with tuxedos and evening gowns. The in-your-face diamonds, rubies and sapphires of the past shone side by side with the more "in vogue" minimalism of modern times.

They are all beyond time, a thought flashed in my mind. Each of them simply picked what he or she liked, and would pick it again, remaining unchanged through the ages. Just like Kristoff would. As for me...

"Your lady is so beautiful!"

"As is everything else around me..."

All those overbearing egos could not possibly be parts of the same pack. They simply came together for that day alone. Among them I noticed a few celebrities whose faces I had seen before. Some of the others, to my surprise, I remembered from our visit to the opera. Still others were complete strangers. There were a lot of women among them, none particularly beautiful. Still, the looks on their faces almost made my presence in the room inappropriate.

"Here, Diana, are those who rule the world. The shepherds to the flock." The smile on his face was not addressed to anyone in particular. "They are all fabulously rich, and they are diehard slave owners. Naturally, they are all my guests of honor!"

Kristoff was speaking in a low tone of voice, addressing only me. The "guests of honor" reverently concerned themselves with each other, making a deliberate effort not to stare at the two of us in the middle. Only occasionally would I catch a scornful look here or there that proved it beyond any doubt that each and every one of Kristoff's words was well heard. It also proved he was telling the truth--the kind of truth I would have to accept.

Indeed, it was hard to believe that each of the hundreds present here instilled horror into his or her servants, similar to what I had experienced from Kristoff. That each of them had ample power and limitless opportunities... and food stores...

What was even more difficult to believe was that none of it seemed to bother me any longer.

 

** ** **

"Countess Madalina!" Kristoff would address someone. "It's so good to see you! I'd like you to meet..."

…

"Veronica, you are as beautiful as ever! Please meet..."

…

"Good to see you, Roberto! I'd like you to meet..."

…

The endless parade of faces in front of me became one: apprehensive, cool beauty, hypnotizing stare, alluring grace of movement disguising the raw power of a wild beast. Only the eyes differed, apparently reflecting the specific moods of their owners: autumn sky blue, steel blade gray, rich brown of strong coffee in a wooden mug in a godforsaken little town somewhere...

"And here's someone I hold in particularly high esteem."

Even though there were actually a few men standing in front of me, I immediately knew which one of them Kristoff was referring to.

"Diana, please meet Adamas. He is one of the ball's most distinguished guests; in fact, he is almost one of its founding fathers."

The dark, wavy hair and a carefully cultivated stubble were the only things my memory had preserved, but even that was enough for an immediate flashback to a certain summer night in the past and the words that rang all too true in my ears:

"Come with me!"

Adamas smiled and kissed my hand without asking Kristoff for permission as did all the others. He then held it a while--way longer than the protocol dictated.

The pause was dragging on.

I could tell he remembered me. Unwittingly, I smiled back, remembering the inappropriate--or very appropriate indeed-- fit I threw back then that may well have saved my life.

"Almost, yes, since you are the true founding father, Kristoff, are you not?" His dark brown eyes stayed glued to my face. At that point, it almost became an affront.

My would-be murderer was slightly shorter than Kristoff, but his larger body mass compensated for that easily, actually adding to the uncanny similarity between the two of them: the strength, self-assuredness and power they shared almost made them look like twins.

Old grudge? Rivalry? I wondered as I watched the two of them lock eyes. Then Kristoff turned me around to face other guests.

Though I could never come close to his extraordinary sensitivity, I was well aware of how tense his body became, and of how his piercing, surreptitious eyes followed my every move.

All of a sudden, the unassuming background music changed, the new, unfamiliar melody growing, full of dissonant notes that finally came together, giving rise to a surprising harmony of their own. A barely noticeable wave of excitement traversed the room, signifying the approach of something special.

Yet, nothing could prepare me for what followed.

From different parts of the ballroom, pairs would come to the center, one after another, joining the dance that did not seem to have anything in common with that of the others. I only had time to think that it all reminded me of an improvisation dance contest when one of the dancers grabbed his partner out of her half-moon bend and threw her at the wall as if she were some sort of a projectile. Before an unwitting "Oh!" could escape my lips, the lady pushed off the wall, somersaulted in the air and, with a laugh, landed graciously on her high heels right next to her unmannerly partner. And then all hell broke loose!

With every new move, their dancing became more and more like a martial arts demonstration. Ladies, thrown into the air, would somersault, land and undercut their partners, forcing them to retreat and evade. In turn, the men would lift the women above their heads and throw them on the floor like they meant it, but the nimble she-cats always landed on their feet and held their own. The dresses that one would assume had to hamper such movements only underscored the graciousness of the sculpted bodies on the dance floor.

Very soon, I understood why so few pairs went for it: the huge ballroom was nowhere near spacious enough for that demonstration of power and speed. Watching this interplay of supernatural magic, I was thinking that had I seen something like that when I was still a servant here I would have not dared fleeing.

But the most amazing thing was that the dance-cum-fight to the death on display was set to that wild music, and together they formed an organic whole.

"Unbelievable! You should have told me before!" I could not take my eyes off that inhumanly beautiful dance.

"Oh that's nothing, Diana. They are just getting started." He was dead serious. "You have no idea what we are capable of."

Then, just like that, the music slowed down, becoming something more like a waltz, and Kristoff pulled me up easily--and then we were dancing ourselves. As we circled steadily to that more classical tune, I thought it was all for the best since otherwise my own clumsiness would be all too apparent against the background of what those other ladies could do. I relaxed, letting my partner lead, but then, as the finale crescendoed, Kristoff suddenly threw me up into the air. For a moment, I froze, simply enjoying my breathtaking flight. Adorned in the flutter of scarlet silk, I watched the approaching stucco detailing of the ornate ceiling in sheer amazement, and then I was back in Kristoff's embrace, and he was smiling at me cunningly! It was a beautiful moment, and I wanted it to last forever...

Little by little, the crowd in the grand ballroom was thinning out, the guests spilling into the garden outside through the glass door. I had no idea what was about to come next, but apparently I was not told about it on purpose since Kristoff wanted to see my spontaneous reaction to whatever it was going to be. I was greedily absorbing everything around me, trying to put together a more coherent picture of what was going on.

Looking at the faces of the guests, I could discern the air of almost childish impatience and joyful anticipation of something... something genuinely funny.

Yet, unlike the others, Kristoff was in no particular hurry, and he didn't seem happy.

When we finally went outside, almost the last to do so, the crowd parted, and in the middle of that tight circle I could see some two dozen people, hunched together. Regular folks. Mortals. Like myself.

The haunted look in their eyes made them seem more like stray dogs encircled by an outmatching pack of wolves. Or, rather, tigers. Some had bruises on their faces. Their clothes--jeans and t-shirts, torn rags that must have been designer suits once--were somewhat indicative of each of the victim's prior station in life. Among the men, a single female face flashed, bloodless and almost inanimate.

The impatience among the guests reached its peak.

Inadvertently, I turned around for a brief look at the house where I knew the servants, invisible behind the silk curtains, were now also dying--of horror, rather than impatience.

A powerful figure stepped into the circle, and Adamas' loud voice rose above the fray crystal clear:

"Each of you broke our law, even though you knew what that would entail!" He shot me a quick gaze. "But we are merciful, and we will give you another chance!" Like brushfire, the scornful sneer on Adamas' face quickly spread to those of the guests around him. "Those of you who manage to last for seven minutes without being caught will go free! The rest will be... punished!" The scornful sneer now became an unmitigated bloodthirsty grin.

Involuntarily, I shuddered. I understood now what the intended purpose was of the forest that bordered on our carefully tended garden. It was to become those people's final resting place. Would it help any of them to save themselves? I doubted that very much.

Making a conscientious effort, I looked up at Kristoff--and saw a stranger. Deep in his glassy eyes, flashes of the same kind of joy danced their unimaginable jig. The sudden icicles in my blood scratched my veins from the inside...

"What did they do?"

The joy disappeared, replaced by the worry I knew--and now understood all too well.

"They broke our law. Each in his own way." He continued to avoid my eyes.

I figured it made it all easier for him.

"They tried to flee, didn't they?" I retorted abruptly, fighting back the sudden tears that were about to get the better of me.

"No, Diana," he said in a dry, academic tone and proceeded to explain: "They broke the laws we gave to people... Yes, we set most of the rules people follow. It would be hypocritical to assert it is human morals we worry about. We just need a healthy herd, is all. What you see before you is a bunch of murderers, rapists, thieves and traitors. Have a closer look at them: you may well recognize some of the culprits featured in the breaking news reports of the human world. Each of them deserves to die, Diana! Take my word for it."

At that moment, a massive gold watch appeared in Adamas' hand, and his other one with a handkerchief in it went up, ready to give the signal. The condemned, their eyes full of hopeless hope, their bodies trembling with stress, watched him with insane intensity. But Adamas, apparently enjoying the process, was in no particular hurry to swing his hand down. Still, he couldn't drag it on forever--and he didn't. As soon as he gave the signal, the people darted into the forest.

The excitement among the guests grew palpable as seconds of the head start allowed the prey ticked away. We could now talk freely, unconcerned about being heard. Everyone was just too captivated by the hunt.

"So every year you are selecting criminals for these fun games of yours?" I asked. I felt a bit better after the explanation he gave me. What was about to happen now looked more like due reckoning, or trash disposal even. Was I naive? Was it still wrong? It very well could be. But at the same time...

"No, it's the first time we have picked this particular kind of victims. " He finally looked me in the eye. "But from now on, that's the way it is going to be."

For your sake, added his eyes.

I now knew the stranger in him was not coming back.

"Tell me the truth, Kristoff. Could my father have found himself here... last time?" I was not being vindictive, I just wanted to know him.

It took him a long time to reply.

"When you disappeared, I thought about it--long and hard. It would feel so sweet, to take revenge on someone who helped you escape." The immediate steely notes in his voice made me cringe. "Yet, I never did it because I knew you would never forgive me."

Everyone around us virtually jumped with excitement, and to my horror I suddenly caught myself counting off the seconds too... eager to see the hunt start. Well, at the very least, I could not see their eyes!

"They are watching your every move, Diana," Kristoff whispered, as if answering my thoughts. "Even now, they are keeping track, waiting to see what you really are."

"I am just a regular human," I whispered back, terrified.

"We've been around long enough. Way too long maybe, and during all that time we have not only learned to be cruel. We've also learned understanding. If you accept them, most of them, if not all, will accept you."

"Why is it so important, Kristoff?"

"Because I want you to be by my side. Always."

Always. There was a word that like no other gave me a world of happiness--and a world of pain! Unfortunately, my own "always" was only going to last for a few short years.

But then--three, two, one--and the hunt began!

Judging by the whirlwind of excitement that swept the guests, I expected a mighty roar to fill the air once the chase started. That made the dead silence all the more deafening as they took off and went flying.

In a moment, Kristoff and I were all alone at the start line. That was when I knew that none of the victims were going to live. Not one of them!

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"I... I am not hungry today, Diana." He smiled and put his arms around me, leaving the cool of the night and the pain that the day had brought me outside of that protective ring. Yet his embrace could do precious little to ward off the memory of someone who had given his life for me. Given it in vain, too.

What was it like for Kyle--the same futile mad rush through the dark woods? Whose face was it he saw last?

 

** ** **

Time went by, but there was not a sound coming from the forest. I sure could have been deceived by its sleepy quiet had I not seen a virtual swarm of hunters rush in, chasing their horrified victims.

Waiting for the inevitable death cries, I only squeezed Kristoff's hand harder and harder, but he pretended not to notice.

Even though I never took my eyes off the tree line, the first blurry figures that emerged from the wilderness caught me unawares. As they drew close, ominous in their silent striding, they slowed down to something that almost looked like a ceremonial goose step. Each of them was dragging something behind. I squinted, trying to get a better look... and then looked away, suddenly all too aware of what it was.

"Are those the winners?" To take my mind off the sight of those dead bodies, I was desperately trying to tell myself that at the very least they must have all died quickly since we could not hear any cries.

"Yes, but it wasn't as easy as you think. Catching a human is easy. Holding on to your catch is a different story altogether. As you can imagine, there was no shortage of challengers!"

In the meantime, the winners stopped in front of us, a few steps away, and suddenly bowed. A casual nod it wasn't. As their hands touched the ground in a ceremonial kowtow--a show of reverence if I ever saw one--I got a glimpse of their victims behind. The solemn, tense faces of the conquerors, the stern looks of apprehensive anticipation in their eyes told me the challenge was hardly over. In fact, it was just beginning.

There were women among them. Fragile and slight, their eyes alert, their smiles beckoning, they hanged on to their hard-won trophies matter-of-factly enough, holding them by the leg, by the hand, by the hair... Thus little girls sometimes drag their favorite dolls with them, wherever they go.

Naturally, Adamas stood tall among the winners. I could not take my eyes off the delicate foot in torn pantyhose he held in his hand. Barefoot, it was bent at an outrageous angle. Mercifully, a shock of fair hair covered the victim's face. Grinning widely, Adamas dragged his kill closer.

Abruptly, I looked away.

What kind of a heinous crime did she have to commit to deserve to find her death in that horrible midnight forest? Or was Kristoff lying, and the victims were all of a regular kind? No, it couldn't be--not after everything he had done to get close to me!

Telling myself that women could be cold-blooded killers, too, I suddenly realized all of the guests were now back. Those who turned out to be weaker and less successful stood slightly behind the victors, keeping their reverent distance. Some seemed happy enough, others could barely hide their anger. Yet all were united in the sorry state of their clothes--and the unmistakable dignity they maintained even as their fancy duds hung in tatters.

"Well, let us continue then, shall we?" In the precipitous silence, Kristoff's strong voice rang true.

I thought I heard a hopeless note in it.

I tried to look into his eyes to see if I was wrong, but he turned away abruptly, drawing me along towards the walking trail, zigzagging through the garden and into the forest.

Oh how many times did we take that particular trail during our walks together! Intimately lit as it always was at night, today it seemed outright ominous, and I expected a nasty surprise at every turn. We stopped by a foaming waterfall that a broad creek flowing out of a distant forest lake ended up with. Sticking his hand through the sheet of swirling water, Kristoff pushed some invisible button and then, all of a sudden, the flow dried out. Where a moment before tons of water were cascading down, an entryway now gaped ajar.

Without breaking his stride, he pulled me inside, and the guests followed. Once they were all in, the gurgling flow of water resumed, the sound of it unexpectedly loud. The underground walkway must have served as a resonator of sorts.

In front of us there lay a long tunnel, scarcely lit with dim bulbs. The large ancient stones of the walls converged above, creating a domed ceiling. In the immediate vicinity, the damp stonework was stained with abundant pale mildew, but as we moved along it got drier.

I could hear an occasional murmur of conversation behind, distorted and fairly incomprehensible. Impressively low for such a large gathering, that background hum was still revealing the talkers' unmitigated excitement.

What could it be that kept them all on edge so much?

I felt fear rising inside of me, all the more implacable since I could sense Kristoff becoming more and more alien. He was walking ahead, as sure of himself as ever, and it seemed each new step took him further and further away from me.

The long underground walkway finally brought us to a circular hall that seemed just about as large as the grand ballroom in the house. A strange smell caught my attention, but then...

At first I could not quite discern where the silvery moonlight was coming from, but then, as l looked around, it hit me: the ceiling was all transparent! Slight ripples traversing the firmament every now and then indicated that we were probably under the lake that gave rise to the creek. The scant natural lighting was augmented by an intricate web of hundreds of small bulbs that covered the walls evenly. For that reason, there were hardly any shadows. Numerous dark openings up above had to be air ducts.

The place clearly was not intended as a dance floor, since there was yet another lake smack in the middle. A thin rope was stretched above its surface.

Out of the corners of my eyes, I was watching the room fill up. Everyone took a position along the wall and just stood there quietly. The winners of the night's... um... games circled the small body of water in the middle.

A nagging anxiety made me dispense with protocol and ask Kristoff, who was standing in front of me, what all of that meant. When I lost all hope of getting an answer, he suddenly looked back, giving me a long stare, and then started walking towards the lake. Apparently, now was no time for words.

Someone touched my shoulder, and before I could process it consciously, my heart fluttered.

"It's me, Diana, don't worry," Moira said quietly, taking her place next to me. In her long dark dress, prim and austere enough to befit a hermit, she was not like her usual self. For once, her true age showed. Mother to a scared child, she took me by the hand, giving me much needed comfort.

It was only now that I realized I had not seen her at all during the ball.

"I usually stay away," she answered my unvoiced question, "but today Kristoff asked me to make an exception to help you stand up to your fear."

"Could you explain then what's going on here? I'll feel better if I know. Suspense is worst."

Wise Moira only gave a deep sigh:

"I am not so sure about that."

For a moment, she let go of my hand and touched her massive bracelet. A screeching sound, thin as a needle, pierced my ears. Involuntarily, I frowned, at the same time catching a similar displeased grin on the faces of others around us. Moira gave them all a sullen look, once again reminding me she was not quite who or what she appeared to be.

Then the sound died as abruptly as it arose. Moira took my hand again and drew closer.

"Now they are not going to be able to hear us." Her voice sounded as if it were coming from behind multiple layers of some thick fabric.

Though she never explained anything yet, I could tell those standing around the lake were getting ready for something. It was all in their grim faces, motionless bodies and intense stares focused on the dark water. Kristoff was one of them, also getting ready. Suddenly I realized he was going to put himself in harm's way!

"They are going to fight each other, aren't they?" My voice was unnaturally calm. My heart, all in the grips of deep worry, wasn't.

Moira nodded.

"Yes, but here's the thing. This lake," she pointed at the shimmering surface in the middle, "is very special. There are only four of them in the entire world, and they are carefully guarded. They are dangerous. For us, that is."

"Dangerous..." I echoed, unable to take my eyes off of Kristoff.

"The liquid inside isn't water. It's a special substance that eats at our flesh. It is totally safe for humans though."

I remembered the strange smell that met us at the entrance.

"Naturally, it isn't like cyanide for humans, and it cannot kill us right away. You could even recover from it, but it takes a long time--months, years even, depending on the length of exposure. Besides, as you may have guessed, it hurts a lot. And I mean a lot!"

Her voice faltered and I wondered how bad the pain would have to be to scare even Moira, who had endured centuries of pain. That was when her hand pointed at the rope, stretched above the lake.

"They are going to fight on the rope!"

Flabbergasted, I stared at Moira.

"Anyone winning the hunt knows what comes next. Some of us are apprehensive, others dream of a chance like that for years. Kristoff had always taken part in the fight."

"But this time he never even joined the hunt!" I immediately wanted to grab him and pull him away from that damned lake. "He shouldn't! No, he must not!"

Sick with worry, I began gasping for air.

"He is the strongest, and he must prove it every year!" Moira cracked sharply. After a pause, she continued, fixing me with her eyes, "However, now it is all different. Because of you, Diana... If he falls, his face and body will remain disfigured for a long time. Maybe even for years. He is afraid of falling."

"He is afraid I will not accept him if he gets disfigured," I finished the thought, now finally realizing his fear of today.

Moira only nodded. Her eyes shone with worry just about as much as mine.

"But... why? Why are they doing it?" I just couldn't understand.

A strange smile lit Moira's face.

"You see, Diana, there is a dark side to our unusually long lives: our emotions are dead. Remember how the world amazed you with its riot of colors when you were a kid? How everything challenged your mind: every blade of grass, every bug on it, every flower? Today it is all different, isn't it? Now imagine it has been centuries since you were a kid. Nothing, nothing is new and exciting any more. You have seen it all before. Hundreds of times! The world around is hopelessly gray."

Fascinated, I listened to her, trying to imagine the unimaginable--the childhood of someone like Moira. How could she even know what the world looked like to me when I was a kid?

"For that reason, any vivid emotion is of great value to us--and not just the positive stuff! The worry, triumph, or painful loss of today will live on in our memories for years."

It was the kind of a revelation that made me see Kristoff in a totally different light.

"Yes," Moira nodded. "No one else could ever give him so much joy, and passion, and fury! No one ever cast him into such depths of insane jealousy and despair... With you by his side, he is not simply treading along--he is all up in flames! You are his treasure, Diana!"

Watching Kristoff's impenetrable face as he concentrated on the upcoming fight, I smiled. No one else in my life had stirred such a torrent of feelings in me either.

"You know, Moira, I understand this better than you might think."

Suddenly, Kristoff gave the sign, and the first two fighters stepped onto the rope. Moira touched her bracelet again, but nothing happened. Dead silence ruled.

Watching the fights that continued one after another, I tried to quell my anxiety by analyzing what I saw objectively.

It was a beautiful dance of sorts, predicated on precise, invisible blows, great sense of balance and flexible maneuvering. However, no matter how inhumanly nimble both fighters seemed, there was only room for one winner, and not necessarily the more imposing of the two.

"What matters most here is experience. Taking part in multiple previous fights give us more than our special abilities ever could," Moira was explaining calmly. "One other thing, Diana. No matter how bizarre this may sound, try to enjoy the show. It is a very rare sight, even for us. As for humans, only the select few ever got to see something like this."

In most cases, the losing fighter would fall right into the lake. A few of them managed to hold on to the rope and escape relatively unscathed, even though a lot depended on the winner's good graces. Most of them were not particularly merciful. In any case, merely touching the "water" counted as defeat.

Finally, Adamas stepped onto the rope. His opponent was a girl who had proved herself a skillful fighter in the preceding matches. Now her charming face shone with a cunning smile. Adamas smiled back casually. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to win.

The swift end to the contest proved his boldness was not for naught. Nothing his opponent threw at him could match the quiet confidence of his experience. Finally, in one smooth, imperceptible move, he dipped her hand into the lake. The girl shrieked. It was not just a sign of disappointment at having lost, but a true agonizing cry of pain. Everyone knew that it was now up to Adamas to let her keep her pretty face or doom her to having to hide her disfigurement for year to come.

Then he looked at me again, only now his insolent stare was shamelessly public. I could only imagine what Kristoff had to be going through at that moment.

Still smiling at me, Adamas pushed the girl's arm into the lake elbow deep, and then all the way up to her shoulder. Another move, and his opponent's beauty would be ruined forever! Still, aside from that first scream, the torture brought not a sound from her.

Hypnotized by that monster's stare, I felt her agony with my own skin and trembled, grabbing spasmodically at Moira's fingers.

Giving me another blood-chilling smile, he let go of the girl. Strange as it might seem, she didn't fall but rather pushed with one leg easily enough to regain her balance and hop off the rope onto solid ground. Then... she bowed.

"Quinta is grateful to Adamas! He was perfectly entitled to make her suffer so much more."

Though I did realize it would be much more preferable to wear a long glove than have to cover one's face under a mask, those words reminded me again that the girl viewed the significance of her fight in a totally different light.

However, then the rope squeaked again, and as Kristoff joined the fight everything else took a step back, becoming irrelevant.

He would be fighting Adamas--who else?

Silence became so thick you could cut it with a knife, which only underscored the significance of the moment. The way the spectators looked at the opponents, the way they themselves froze, staring at each other dispassionately--it all spoke volumes.

"This is not the first time they are fighting each other, is it?"

"Oh, no, far from it!"

"And Kristoff always wins?"

Moira remained silent.

The first hurricane-like movement above the lake indicated that the real fight had only just started. What happened before now seemed no more than a warm-up. With every new invisible blow, the fight became tougher and tougher.

The rope was swinging harder, too, but somehow, unbelievably so, it still supported its heavy burden.

I forgot all about manners and let my heart follow the rhythm of the fight, my lungs exhale deeply to match the blows dealt, and my fists to clench nervously every time Adamas struck home. Even someone like me, watching the action for the first time, could tell they were a fair match for each other and no one would be able to predict the outcome of the fight one way or another.

Yet at some point something changed, and Kristoff began losing. Each of his moves was a tad slower than that of his rival. His every reaction had a tiny lag to it!

Blood froze in my veins when at one point, during one of those rare moments Kristoff got to stand still for a fraction of a second, I realized what the reason was: instead of focusing on Adamas, he was looking at me.

All by themselves, my lips moved and I whispered:

"I will accept you no matter what!"

Abruptly, he straightened up, rested his gaze on me for a split second and smiled... and then Adamas attacked again!

Before I could even gasp for a fresh lungful, my eyes registered snippets of what had just happened: a blow that knocked Kristoff off his feet, his hands clinging to the rope, his body arching, his face gliding above the smooth surface of the lake... And then he struck back!

My hand covered my trembling lips as I realized that I had almost caused him to fall. My eyes wide open as they were, I could now barely follow the fight.

Whether it was because of my impulsive words or in spite of them, in just a few seconds Kristoff was clearly back on top again, and now Adamas could barely evade, leaning lower and lower with every new blow struck. Finally, sent reeling by an overwhelming coup de grâce, Adamas lost his balance.

I gave a sigh of relief as Kristoff's triumphant eyes met mine.

Time froze as Adamas fell slowly, grabbing at the rope, trying to keep above the surface. In the end, only his right foot, ignoring its owner's wishes, slid off the supporting line and plunged into the lake, swinging, creating a wave--and sending it into his opponents face...

"Kristoff!!!" The silence exploded with a mad scream--my scream.

"I am so clumsy today! My apologies, Kristoff!" Adamas made no effort at even a modicum of regret. "Congratulations on your victory!"

Silently turning his back on his ignoble opponent and his wicked smile, in one large jump Kristoff reached the ground, his trembling hand covering his disfigured face...

I don't remember how I found myself next to him.

"Kristoff!"

He turned away, still covering up. I ran around and grabbed him by the hand, desperately trying to pull it away from his face.

"Kristoff, please!" I was almost crying. "Let me help!"

All of a sudden there was some kind of a rag in my hand and I was using it to dab the cursed liquid off his hand, shoulder and neck. He was too tall, and the fabric wouldn't stretch far enough. Still grabbing at him, I pulled sharply, tearing off a part of my scarlet silk hem and used it to wipe the substance that caused him so much pain off his skin and clothes. Through the veil of my tears, I could hardly see anything and only begged to please, please let me see his face.

My cheeks were all wet when finally his hand shuddered and went down.

Now I was wailing for real! An ugly deep burn covered the entire left side of his face, and his neck looked like it had been cooking for hours on hot red-coals. His clothes sported wet splotches covering the yet unseen damage to his chest, his shoulder, his stomach... Everywhere I looked there were tiny dots of burned flesh!

I suddenly felt a dull ache twisting my face, neck and breast as my own body responded in kind. I could now feel his wounds! Clutching at his clothes, spilling heavy, salty drops on them, I was begging:

"What can I do to help? Tell me!"

He touched my cheek and smiled.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, Diana."

That smile made him look more beautiful than ever, and his eyes, dancing with joy, made me forget all about his injuries.

I got the wind knocked out of me--he was so beautiful!

 

** ** **

Watching Moira cleaning his wounds, I shuddered every time the pad dipped in yellowish liquid touched the burns on his skin. The experience left me totally depleted, as thoughts wobbled wearily in my mind. What if all that swabbing actually made it worse?

When I was finally capable of seeing anything else besides his pain, I noticed the guests were looking at us funny. It was hard to tell what it was I saw in their faces: scorn, surprise... or maybe envy? In the end, I was not much of an expert in their psychology.

Not that I cared much either way.

Adamas was the only one who attracted my attention. All concern, he was peering compassionately into Kristoff's face. Then he rolled his eyes, apologized profusely, albeit unconvincingly, and deliberately stood behind his shoulder, staring at me--as if showing off his own perfectly handsome mug alongside Kristoff's new disfigurement. I ached to grab him and dip him whole into that damned lake, and only the realization of the sheer impossibility of that undertaking prevented me from lunging at his throat. Instead I simply drilled his eyes with my own, as if I could gouge them out that way.

I was stunned by Kristoff's composure and patience. It seemed that my tears washed his pain away without a trace. He ignored Adamas and his phony apologies, continuing to play his role of a hospitable host as if that caustic liquid eating away at his clothes and skin, getting deeper and deeper still was not even there. All the other injured fighters, too, behaved in a similar fashion. I was appalled by that ostentatious show of valor, but it was absolutely clear to me by then that tradition reigned supreme at the ball.

The first light of dawn touched the sky when the last of the guests said goodbye. Hand in hand, we stood on the porch. Apprehensively, I turned to face him.

"Kristoff..."

"Let's go now," he cut me short, smiling. "There's a good old remedy."

As I watched Moira trying to help him, I wondered how much one had to crave the thrill to put himself in danger so carelessly. That inevitably led to a scary question: will he crave me for long? Will the craving last for at least the short duration of my life with him?

However, at the moment only one thing mattered--his pain. Watching Moira's hand with the pad, I shuddered again.

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

His soothing tone failed to convince me. How could it possibly not hurt?

Yet, Moira was already putting her things onto a tray, apparently getting ready to go.

"Honest, Diana. Come see for yourself. It has all skinned over already." He got off the couch.

Careful not to hurt him accidentally, I came close--and couldn't believe my eyes! All the burns had fresh scar tissue over them, as if already several weeks old.

"The tradition of these fights goes back so many centuries," Moira said, stopping in the doorway for a moment, "that a remedy couldn't have possibly failed to be discovered. To be sure, discovered it was, except, unfortunately, it still cannot work miracles. On the other hand, if it all healed too fast, what would be the significance of doing battle?" She smiled and made a short pause. "Well, all right, good night you two. Or good day, rather!"

Still laughing, she closed the door.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" As much as I wanted to believe it, I still couldn't and was thus apprehensive about touching the large dark scar running from Kristoff's left shoulder across his chest down towards his stomach. Now that he had his shirt off, I could see all the damage done, most of which was concentrated on the left side of his powerful torso. My own body responded to the sight with increased sensitivity in my own left side.

A smile on his lips, he took my hand and pressed it to the scar on his chest.

"It doesn't hurt. It really doesn't."

It suddenly dawned on me that it was the first time I was touching his naked body.

My breathing became labored. My heart picked up a notch.

"But it will be there for a long time now, Diana."

Silly, he thought that was going to scare me off!

Making a conscientious effort to look him in the eye, I whispered:

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more... nothing... except... "

Kristoff exhaled loudly and leaned closer to me, his nostrils flaring.

"Except what?" The heavy stare from atop his tall frame stayed with me, growing hotter with each second.

Standing on my toes, I--finally!-- sank my hand into the black silk of his hair and pulled his good ear to me:

"Except how badly I want you!"

And then the entire world went up in flames.

 

** ** **

Everything changed.

During those brief moments when my brain regained the ability to perceive anything except he who was now one with me, I never knew if it was still daytime or whether night had taken over again.

At some point, it seemed, the torrents of rain that threw a muddy veil onto the windows and the lightning that coincided with the pinnacles of our exploding pleasure were replaced with some sun. I only noticed it because the reflected rays of light made Kristoff's eyes shine like true emeralds.

But didn't it get dark again then? Or did I only imagine the moon? Or was it yet another storm front enveloping the sky with its midnight clouds, rocking the world with a thunderous roar that, however earsplitting, could not muffle our own moans?

All spatial cues disappeared. In the whirlwind of pleasure, the floor and the ceiling swapped places repeatedly. For all I knew, I may have been soaring in the air. Maybe I was.

Lost in time, I would fall asleep in Kristoff's cool embrace only when I could no longer move a finger. Even in my sleep, I would see his eyes burning with desire, hear the tiger in him growl and inhale his scent.

He would invade my sleep with a moan--"Dia-a-a-na!"--reclaiming me from my brief respite. One foot still there, in the realm of fuzzy images where the two of us were just as restless, I laughed quietly to myself, "Monster! Insatiable!" Yet there was no way I could not ignite in his fire! Myriads of stars would flash in front of my eyes that never even had a chance to open... and the insatiable monster roared back--"You are mi-i-i-i-ne!"--and then sighed happily, "At last!"

My body accepted his as a part of itself. It was as if we had long been pieces of a single whole and now finally came back together after an eternity spent apart. A revelation it was indeed, and a true homecoming, and I often remembered his "You have been made for me" and knew he was right.

There were no more taboos! Everything that may have seemed superfluous, silly or shameful acquired a new meaning with him and became desirable. I was exploring him with as much zeal as he did me. A new side to life that I had never known existed revealed itself to me.

"I never thought it could be... so..."

"Good? Delightful?"

I laughed and shook my head.

"I can't even find the right word for it! I don't think there is such a word, not in any language I know, anyway."

"Isn't that what I promised you? Remember?" And once again, he was kissing me, tapping some hidden reserves of stamina that would never run dry, it seemed.

Finally, I was pretty sure it was morning, except--of what day? That was a question all right.

I gave a deep sigh.

"What?"

"I think I should take a shower..." Another sigh followed.

"You don't have to if you don't feel like it. I really don't mind." He licked a drop of sweat off my breast. "You are very sweet, actually."

I laughed:

"That's not the point. I am just not sure I can still walk!"

He laughed with me.

"Well, since I know I still can, how about I help you? Hold your breath, Diana!"

One whirlwind moment later, we were in the bathroom. Kristoff only smiled contentedly in response to my perplexed "Wow!" No big deal, said the smile.

"Now I know how you managed to stay invisible," I said, a note of mock "J'accuse" in my voice.

His grin widened and out of pure wickedness I felt like I'd better put a kibosh on it.

"Did you even leave me alone when I had to do... um... business?"

But he only laughed back.

"Well, all right, maybe just then."

I shook my head.

"When I realized you had been right there, next to me all the time," I covered my burning face with my hands, recalling that moment of truth, "I... I was..."

"Oh, that was one of the funniest days in my life!" His loud laughter soared, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. "You should have seen yourself then, at the library!"

"And has it ever occurred to you that... um... peeping... might not be proper?" I just had to take that little pot shot even though at the moment his peeping activities back then came through as, well... quite intriguing.

Kristoff sighed and, a smile on his face, stepped up. My heart picked up speed.

"Oh, Diana, if only you knew what it cost me to limit myself to... only... what I allowed myself."

Suddenly, he bit at my ear--with great care, but sending shivers all over my body nonetheless, pressing me to the wall of the shower stall, his fingers caressing me from the neck down.

"Such as..." he whispered hotly into my ear, "... every time you were taking a shower, I always wanted to... to help you..."

And that time, he did just that.

When we finally made it back to the bedroom, my stomach grumbled, reminding me that there were other necessities in life as well. Never before had I been so ravenous!

Kristoff ordered breakfast and came back to bed--all of four minutes later.

It was now our bed.

I smiled at how easily the concept took in my mind. Us.

"What?" He was playing with my hair, laying shiny locks out on his palm in a sort of a coil, then setting them free to unwind.

"You are very clever, Kristoff. You have really made a textbook case out of it!" I pointed my finger at him, then back at myself. "I still can't believe you pulled it off!"

Well, not that I really couldn't believe it--denying the obvious would be fairly silly. Yet, Kristoff didn't find the joke funny at all. On the contrary, he took his eyes off and frowned. Finally, he said, very quietly:

"Had I been half as clever as you claim I am, I would have done it right the first time. And you wouldn't have had to hate me and run away to some middle of nowhere. You would have spent those two years here with me, in this bed!"

He looked me in the eye and added:

"Forgive me, Diana."

I could tell how difficult it was for him to say that.

Yet even then, after unimaginable intimacy had fused the two of us into one, the only reply I could muster was a heavy sigh. His hopeful stare wouldn't let go of me as he waited, and waited... until it dawned on him I was not going to answer.

Apparently hurt and trying to conceal it, he gave me a lopsided grin and an attempt at a mock rebuke:

"Would it make it easier for you to forgive me if I told you when it was the last time I asked for forgiveness?"

"When?"

"Never!"

Now I squeezed out a smile.

"Well, that's really... a long time ago."

He gave me a gloomy nod.

That was the moment I made a decision:

"I will try, Kristoff. I really will. It's just that... it's really not easy."

 

** ** **

There was some noise downstairs: our breakfast was brought in.

When I heard Kristoff tell them to bring it up, into the bedroom, I wiggled, restlessly. The two of us sat in bed, embracing. For him, it was almost as if the person that was now ascending the stairs didn't even exist, and so he paid her no heed. On the contrary, I had an immediate urge to get up, get dressed, and, most importantly, get away from that bed where Kristoff sat, unperturbed.

I tried to get up, but to no avail--nothing could make him release me from his embrace! The steps were getting closer, the jingle of dishes on the tray becoming ever more distinct with every second, and my embarrassment grew. I was almost kicking now.

"Come on, Diana," his confident voice tried to reason with me, as if I were a baby. "Relax, it's just a servant!"

"Let go of me, Kristoff! I can't..." I mumbled, huffing and puffing and getting nowhere with it.

But he would only hold me closer still. As the person bringing the breakfast set foot on the marble of the second floor, I finally relented and stopped trying to break free.

Mika (and it was her) proceeded straight to the coffee table and began serving breakfast. Through the time she spent in the room, she never raised her eyes at us--indeed, no one dared break the established rules. And yet, even without seeing her eyes I knew her thoughts, full of hatred, poison and envy that they were.

I only relaxed when the door closed behind her on the lower level.

"If you don't like her, she'll be gone in ten minutes," offered the big-hearted Kristoff, who had been watching me carefully all along.

I shuddered. I knew what that would mean for her under such a scenario better than any seer. Despite my dislike of her, I didn't want her dead.

"No, Kristoff! Please, don't!" I began, vehemently, but he cut me short.

"All right, all right. Now, listen," his hand touched my cheek, turning me to face him. "I want you to get used to us being seen together. This is where you belong." He was apparently very pleased to say that last part. "Besides, you have a totally different life ahead of you, the kind in which their opinions," his scornful gesture must have meant the world of humans, my world outside, "are totally irrelevant!"

"How do you mean?" Did he think that being with him would make me forget what I was? "What different life?"

Kristoff smiled and his eyes lit with a strange fire.

"A life full of love!" he sang, as his hands slid along my body, corroborating the statement.

Yet, I had a distinct impression that the truth was hiding somewhere behind that platitude.

As my gaze fell on the table, my indignant stomach once again reminded me of its existence.

"All right, lunch break!"

Desperately trying to ward off his devious caresses, I reached for the food. That time he let me go, laughing all the way to the table.

The food tasted unbelievably good!

At first, I wanted to show some restraint, but then it hit me that Kristoff had seen me under any and all possible circumstances, so I stopped torturing myself with the shackles of convention and lunged at my food like the hungry animal I felt I was. Kristoff followed suit.

"Another couple of hours without food," I mumbled through a monstrous mouthful, "and the pleasure of eating would be almost sexual!"

Kristoff laughed.

"Well, that's easy to check!" He moved on me, as if trying to take possession of my huge, half-eaten ham and lettuce sandwich. I only growled back, causing a bout of unrestrained exhilaration on his part.

Some fifteen minutes later, very much content and sleepy, I sank my teeth lazily into an apple and screamed instantly.

"Bit your tongue?" Kristoff asked, with an immediate interest.

"My lip," I mumbled, drowsily.

"Let me kiss your booboo," he moved closer, all ready to kiss my injured lip.

"Isn't my blood... going to bother you?" That was the first time I even thought about that.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You see, Diana, anyone could quench my thirst, but my hunger..." His emerald eyes lit up. "Satisfying my hunger is something only you can do!"

 

** ** **

Fate, which owed me a debt of happiness, decided to pay up in one lump sum.

It was as if distant childhood returned, and the world was a dazzling fount of color again. Hours flew by, filled to capacity with all kinds of experiences, and every minute was priceless. Bright days became one with hot nights, messing with my internal calendar, throwing time itself off the track.

Having received more from life than I could ever hope for, I was still hungry for more!

I was indeed happy.

Kristoff... When his lips were not glued to mine, they were always smiling. There were plenty of basic smiles to chose from: tender, wicked, knowing, ironic, passionate, carnivorous... And then there were innumerable variations.

Time and again, we rediscovered each other in those little details--words, body language, facial expressions--as if meeting for the first time. Yet there would always be more to explore--an entire infinity.

Jenob and Moira followed us with their laughing eyes, making innocent fun of us, but nothing could dispel our feeling of euphoria.

"It looks like happiness finally took root in our house," Jenob would say, and his eyes sparkled.

"Yes, happiness, and nothing else!" Kristoff would be quick to retort, no longer the cold and distant creature that had always guarded his private feelings with much zeal.

Aware of the change in him, even the servants cheered up and became a tad more animate in his presence.

Sometimes, I would forget altogether what he was. However, the house itself was quick to remind me, what with his portraits wearing clothes from different time periods that, though they were not prominently paraded, could often be found in one room or another alongside similarly telling depictions of Jenob and Moira. Exploring the library, I would find old manuscripts signed with different names but in one hand--his. There were enough historical details for me to finally begin wondering how old he truly was.

To my surprise, Kristoff was in no particular hurry to reveal that seemingly innocent secret.

"Tell me, Diana, what if I told you I am a hundred years old? Would that turn you off?"

"Oh, you know it wouldn't!"

"What if it was three hundred?"

"Of course not."

"How about five hundred?"

"What difference does it make one way or another?"

"That's my point exactly, it matters none. Why don't we discuss a more important matter instead?" He would draw me close and start whispering into my ear what particular matter he had in mind--making me blush and guiding my thoughts in a totally different direction.

Still, those unfinished conversations of ours gave me the impression that he was actually much more than five hundred years old.

Little by little, I would learn more about him.

While the fact that in the end he did manage to find me may have given me an idea of Kristoff's infinitely superior sense of smell before, his hearing and tactile capacity as well as speed turned out to exceed even the boldest of my expectations. He liked showing off any chance he got, like some kind of a youngster. It would only take him a moment to carry me to the roof and balance on the very edge, making me scream and clutch at him in distress. He would toss me up into the night sky as high as the stars and then, after catching me back easily from my dizzying flight, make love to me right there and then, on the lawns of the sleeping garden, eliciting moans of joy from me. It was really hard to tell which of the two things he did best!

Once, waking up in the middle of the night, I saw him sleeping and remained motionless for a long while, afraid to move, lest I disturbed the look of quiet bliss on his face. He would then explain that he could easily stay awake for several days at a time, but a few hours of shallow sleep made him feel better.

I was learning about his world, too.

From time to time, he would have visitors--"friends" as he called them, even though a distinct note of sarcasm in his voice left me no doubt as to what he really thought of friendship. In a very ceremonial manner, he would introduce me to everyone: acquaintances, partners, associates...

The depth of his intellect left me in awe! You could tell it was not just the experience of multiple generations talking. Recalling how I dared argue with him, I was amazed at my childish presumptuousness. Yes, he was that smart! Despite my expensive education, next to him I felt like a total ignoramus and secretly wondered what he had even seen in me. For the first time ever, I felt like I wanted to study--to live up to him.

 

It was late at night. The monotonous rain that had lasted the entire day was still humming outside, putting everyone and everything to sleep. Yet it was warm and cozy under our blanket, and I decided the moment was right.

"Kristoff..."

"Mmmm?

"I would like to start doing something..." I began from afar.

"Me too," he purred with a smile, kissing his way slowly from my right ear down.

I closed my eyes. Sometimes, his tirelessness... tired me out.

"I mean, in addition to the things I do around the house." To avoid any misunderstanding, I added, "I'd like to study. Or work."

Forgetting my underkissed neck, Kristoff brought his head up, a very strange look in his eyes.

"Work?"

I didn't like the sound of it at all, nor the high-strung tension, as if he was overcoming a considerable resistance deep inside. My voice as light as I could make it, I pretended to be embarrassed.

"Well, maybe you are right. Where could I possibly work? It's not like I went to college or anything." Years that would ordinarily be dedicated to such an endeavor were instead spent doing slave labor and trying to evade the cruel owner. Yet I was loath to remind him of that--the memory of it caused too much pain to the both of us. Instead, I burst out laughing and recapped my point, "All I know how to do is hide from you!"

"That's an undertaking all right," he mumbled, fixing me with a pensive stare. "One that is far more difficult than it may appear."

I wanted to laugh him off, saying that maybe I could open a school, but changed my mind before it was too late.

"Then maybe I could study something?" I was timidity and tenderness itself.

His stare eased off and, much more relaxed now, he asked:

"What would you like to study?"

"I am not sure yet, but most likely history, culture and languages..." I had an impression those would be mere drops in the ocean of my ignorance. On the other hand, one had to start somewhere!

"That's a great choice," he smiled. Apparently, now that he saw my motives clearly, his vague anxiety was gone. He nodded. "Good idea. Why didn't I think of it before? You'll have the best of teachers: scholars, professors..." With great enthusiasm, he concluded, "We'll have a leg up on any university!"

"Ahem... what I actually had in mind was more like becoming a student at a university rather than being homeschooled."

"What's wrong with homeschooling?" He was once again up in flames, drilling me with his suspicious eyes.

I laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You know, every time you got so angry before I trembled with fear! But now," I caressed the disfigured part of his beautiful face, "all I want to do is put you at ease." I began kissing him.

The uptight wrinkle between his brows relaxed as he repeated, in a much more relaxed manner:

"So what's wrong with homeschooling?"

"To tell you the truth, Kristoff, I grow weary of the house. It's not that I am bored... but it would feel so good to have some variety, you know. Like, maybe shoot the breeze with some other girls my age, naive and carefree, breathe easy on campus, take some exams--and fail some, to be sure. But what I really want is to do this on my own! Besides, I really do have a lot to learn. Every step of the way I am fully aware of how much I lag behind you in this respect. You, and Moira, and Jenob."

"Diana, you don't--"

"Please, let me finish! You once said I belong by your side. Well, I want to live up to the role. Please." I caressed his cheek and kissed him, sensing (no, knowing!) he would not be able to refuse.

"All right," he sighed after a long pause, and quickly added, "But somewhere close, right next to me!"

I gave him a smile.

"As you wish, my dear master." And then I reached out to him to offer my thanks...

 

** ** **

We were spending time on each other without giving it a second thought. Kristoff simply had plenty of it. I was afraid to lose even a single moment of what little I had allotted to me.

Jenob would tease him:

"Oh, Kristoff, I don't remember any of this happening in the past thousand years or so!"

Kristoff would shoot him a killer look that would give any of the servants a heart attack.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" Jenob laughed louder still.

In the end, Kristoff had to tear himself off of me and finally get back to business.

Almost a month had passed from the time of our first intimacy. It seemed that after so many days and nights spent together I should have gotten tired of him. Yet, every time he left I began missing him right away. Roaming around the house, I would get closer and closer to his study, telling myself all along that I was actually on my way to the library across the hall from it. Then, my hand already on the handle of the library door, I would decide I'd go see him just for a moment, just for a single kiss...

Naturally, I was distracting him, and after a couple of long days that stretched ad infinitum like rubber I recalled his permission to visit my parents any time I wanted. With great enthusiasm (hey, I was finally doing something with myself, plus I had craved an opportunity to go outside the estate for a while now), I gave an order to get the car ready. Besides, I haven't had a chance to drive since forever, and it would do me good to refresh the skill.

Having let my family know about my plans, I was changing, quite happy that in a month and a half, when classes began at the university, I wouldn't have a single minute to spare for brooding. Imagine my surprise when looking out the window some ten minutes later I discovered that an additional four cars were waiting to accompany me on my trip.

The bodyguards threw casual looks at the house every now and then, apparently waiting for me to come out.

Quite certain that it was some kind of a misunderstanding, I rushed to Kristoff's office.

"Kristoff, I want to go see my parents," I got right to it, taking the bull by the horns.

Calmly, he interrupted me:

"I know, they told me already. By all means, go ahead. I told you I have nothing against it."

"But the guards... You promised me I could go see them alone!"

"Naturally. You are going alone--unfortunately, I am very busy today and can't make you company. But Diana, I have never said you could go alone! The guards are going with you, period."

I felt vexed.

"But you said you trusted me!"

"I do. But you have to understand how much you mean to me!" Kristoff came closer and put his arms around me. "If anything happens to you, I will never forgive myself!"

"But I am just going to my parents' place and back!"

"Diana, you are the best target for those trying to get at me. You have no idea what some of those are capable of!"

His gestures, voice and eyes were in accord with each other, or so it seemed. What he was saying was also quite believable. So how did I know he was lying?

I shook my head.

"You still don't trust me, that's what it's all about!" His eyes told me right away I was correct in that assumption. "Why, Kristoff? Wasn't trust what you wanted of me so much? And I put my trust in you! Why can't you do the same?"

He remained silent for so long that it seemed there would be no answer coming. Finally his lips moved, but barely:

"You have already run away once..."

"Kristoff, I wouldn't want to leave even if you sent me packing! I have no reason to run. I love you!"

How he kissed me that moment!

Before that, we never bothered with declarations. No banalities were needed for us to know that our flame couldn't possibly be anything but love!

"And I love you too... You know that!" he said, making an effort to tear himself from my lips and breathing heavily. And then he added, "If you do love me, please, let the guards go with you! For my peace of mind! Please, Diana, for my sake! Please!" And then he was kissing me again and again...

I knew it was no use arguing.

 

My family was waiting for me at the door: mother, father, auntie, brother and sister. For the first time ever, it was the way it should be in a family, with warm embraces, radiant smiles and sincere joy of seeing each other again. For the first time, they did not feel guilty and remorseful at the sight of me.

Kristoff kept his promise and helped resolve the problems my family faced. Debts and claims were postponed, paid or forgiven. My father and brother were working day and night to pay down what manageable sums remained. But--surprise, surprise!-- business was good now and their faces were shining with hope.

"So, how are you doing?" There was plenty of apprehension in their voices.

"Great! Everything is great!" I answered in the same ambiguous manner, yet with great enthusiasm.

"How is... Kristoff?" father finally squeezed out, almost stuttering.

"He is fine, dad, thank you."

Though nothing else was said about that particular subject matter, everyone around the table began breathing a tad easier.

Later on, when we all had our fill of talking and I decided I wanted to have a look at my old room, Lydia went with me. She kept her silence on the way up and only turned to face me, smiling, by the very door.

"So you are happy at last, my girl!"

I nodded and smiled back.

"Yes, auntie!"

"Well, I am happy for you, then." She gave me a kiss and proceeded down the corridor toward her own room, shaking her head and mumbling, "Who could have thought?"

Indeed, who could have?

I pulled at the handle and opened the door into my past.

I could almost see myself there, pacing the floor impatiently, waiting for Kyle's potion to get rid of my scent. Yet again, as I had often done in the past, I wondered at the vicissitudes of my fate. Like some magic butterfly, I was undergoing constant metamorphosis, going through different phases that completely changed who and what I was. Here is that little, unloved me... and the precious rebel, rising up against the hateful world! Here is the subservient, silent me, lacking any color and all ready to die. And here is the strong me, breaking free and becoming a wanderer drunk on her freedom. And finally, here is the current me--my wings spread wide open, overflowing with happiness. How long would this particular incarnation last? Would I be able to die without leaving it behind?

Coming up to the mirror and fumbling with the jewelry boxes, I thought for a moment that I could take them with me, but then understood all too well that their true place was right there, in my past. The same went for my favorite doll (Catherine?) that fell off the shelf where the rest of her girlfriends dwelt. I returned her to their company, smiled at my childhood and left the room.

All the way back home, I rejoiced quietly at how the little piece that was missing had finally slid into place, and my happiness was now complete.

Kristoff met me in the yard, and as soon as I shut the engine off he held the door open for me, offered me his hand and after squeezing mine covered it with kisses. I smiled: we had not seen each other for all of a couple of hours! Disregarding everyone around, he embraced me, reaching for my hair and neck, then leaned over my bosom...

"Kristoff! Shouldn't we go in first?"

Under the watchful eyes of the guards, such tender snuggles were altogether inappropriate.

"Whatever you say, mistress!" His arms lifted me off the ground, and a few seconds later I was lying on the bed, with him frantically ripping my clothes off.

"Wait!" I laughed. "Don't you want to know how the trip went?"

He paused and gave me a long look.

"Why, of course I do. How did it go?"

"All right."

"That's it? Any details? Anything unusual?"

"Not really," I laughed again. "What made you think so?"

His look still pensive, Kristoff kissed my palm again and chuckled.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He gave a noisy sigh and went for my belly.

 

** ** **

"You want to go in here? Why here?" Her critical brow raised, Moira was carefully inspecting the storefront.

"When I was a young girl, I used to buy clothes here fairly often. But then your brother... changed my life quite a bit." I tittered at the almost benign ring of that sentence, and suddenly any interest I may have had in new duds was gone.

It was great that Moira had agreed so readily to go shopping with me. Since last night, Kristoff had been in a very strange mood: quiet, pensive and very introspective. Whether it was some unfinished business or my words about the lack of trust that affected him so, I didn't know. But I felt he wanted to be alone for a while, so I came up with that plan to go shopping.

And now here was Moira, looking suspiciously at the display, and I was thinking to myself: if this place, an expensive couture boutique, wasn't good enough, then where were they buying their clothes? It's not like everything could be made to order, right?

"Anything wrong?" I asked.

"Well, how should I put it? Oh, all right, let's have a look. What's good for the goose..."

I rolled my eyes. A boutique in the capital, smack in the middle of downtown--what goose could possibly say no?

It must have looked funny: a fragile thirteen-year-old, stepping majestically in the van, with a girl twice her age trotting behind. Yet the deferential sales staff barely missed a beat and met us with radiant smiles all around.

Moira stopped, as if to catch her breath and threw a disgusted look around.

"So? Could I look for some clothes here?" I asked, barely suppressing laughter.

She sighed, as if giving up, and conceded graciously:

"All right, you go ahead. I'll just wait."

Still snickering under my breath and feeling great, I walked along the short aisles, picking up a few things that caught my eye.

"We have free delivery today," said the sales girl after I paid for my purchases. "Would you be interested?" She sounded so eager that I suddenly thought that her commission might depend on whether I said yes or no.

"No, thank you!" Moira cut the girl off. As she reached for the bags, all color drained from the girl's face under her heavy look.

Unlike Moira, I could still remember the times when work was my livelihood, and I felt sorry for the young lady. It seemed like it was really important for her.

"Moira!" My whisper was full of rebuke.

She looked at me and blew me a raspberry.

"Oh, all right, let them deliver. But I am warning you, they won't even let your courier in. He'll have to leave it all at the gate, with the guards."

"What bug bit you?" I asked her once we were out on the street. She did not appreciate the joke.

"That sales girl, she was so strange. I could smell the stench of her fear from a mile away!"

"Well, I am sure you know better... But it was all your fault. Your stare would have scared anyone silly!"

Turning around, Moira met my eyes head on and I slowed down.

"What is she, nuts? Scared of little kids?"

 

Indignantly, Moira rejected the rest of my proposed route in its entirety and took me to where, in her educated opinion, one could really get some clothes. That seemed to make her happy, the child that she was. The clandestine little neighborhoods she took me to gave me quite a surprise as it seemed no human ever set foot there. The bewildered looks the sales clerks at those special places gave me also seemed to cheer her up quite a bit. However, despite all those exotic surroundings, I was getting more and more dispirited.

"What's the matter with my best friend?" The familiar question brought a smile to my lips, but not for long.

"Kristoff is kind of strange today."

"Do you have any idea why?" Moira gave me a careful look.

"I think I do. Yesterday, I realized it for the first time he doesn't trust me, and I told him that much."

Moira gave me an understanding nod, then smiled and exclaimed hotly:

"But he is crazy about you!"

"Yes, but he doesn't trust me," I cut her short. "He didn't tell me what was going to happen at the ball because he was not sure of my reaction. Besides, he almost lost the fight because of me. This situation scares me, Moira. He once said that I am his weak spot. Yet I somehow feel that his distrust of me is the real weak spot."

Moira nodded again and hopscotched graciously across the rectangular grid some children must have drawn on the sidewalk. For a brief moment, I recalled the sick little girl, a morose look in her eyes.

But then the little girl brought up her bottomless eyes at me and cawed like an old woman:

"But that's not your only fear, is it, Diana?"

I gave a deep sigh. Sometimes I wished her mind was not so keen!

"You can tell me. You know I'll try to do what I can to help." She took my hand and kept walking with me, side by side.

"I am not so sure there's anything to be done here, Moira," I squeezed out a lame smile. "Most of all, I am worried about... about the future. There's precious little one could do about that."

"Oh, we have our methods!"

"Sometimes Kristoff's strength, power and authority scare me. Besides, he... he will always remain this way. Unlike me..." I kept going and going despite Moira's sarcastic grin, feeling better already from finally verbalizing my primary fear.

"Diana, do you trust me?" Moira took me by the chin and looked into my eyes, making people around us turn their curious heads. After I nodded, she continued, "Take my word for it, then. This is absolutely the least of your worries!"

And then her sonorous laughter filled my ears.

I wished I could laugh with her, just as joyously and easily, but the sudden pain in my chest made even regular breathing a problem, let alone laughing...

 

** ** **

We came back late at night. Even though we seemed to have just spent a day any girl could dream of--socializing with one's best friend, buying a ton of fantastic new clothes--my doom and gloom just wouldn't go away.

Following the servants that carried my purchases into the dressing room, I saw bags with a familiar logo already there.

"They delivered those in the morning?"

"Yes, mistress," said one of the servants, Mika.

Having dismissed the girls, I just stood there in the middle of my dressing room, my eyes gliding over the long rows of countless garments on hangers, and the new additions to the flock. Why was it that nothing made me happy today?

With no particular enthusiasm, just to give myself something to do, I picked up the bags from the "unworthy" boutique. They were packed so stylishly! The thick beige paper bags were filled with chocolate-colored wrapping tissue under which my news clothes lay, sealed in transparent garment bags. What was so wrong with that?

I took everything out and tried it on again. Yes, the favorite store of my youth was still doing fine. Nothing was mixed up. With a deep sigh, of which the reason I could not understand myself, I undressed and stepped up to the staircase in my lingerie to see if Kristoff was down there. He was, standing immobile by his desk, like some stone statue. Our eyes met, and the next moment he was all over me, drilling me with the long -forgotten merciless stare of Diana Snowe's old master.

"Where have you been?" His ice-cold voice seemed to be coming from miles away.

"Shopping with Moira. Didn't they tell you?" My anxiety growing, I kept looking at him... and not recognizing him.

"All day long?" He never came any closer.

"Well, kind of... Kristoff, what's the matter?"

But he had already left the room, and I heard the door downstairs slam, cutting off the muted growl that trailed behind him like a dog's tail. Then something fell somewhere, and with a thunderous rumble rolled down the corridor.

His angry roar followed:

"Clear this mess up! Now!"

The ensuing dead silence gave me even more jitters.

Pacing the bedroom from wall to wall, biting my nails, I was frantically searching my mind for any explanation as to what may have happened. It had to be something extraordinary! But what was it?

The door downstairs banged again, and the next moment Kristoff's hands lifted me off the floor. Without saying a word, he brought me to the bathroom, freed me of my lingerie and began washing me. Literally.

It was strange because all his prior attempts to help me with my ablutions had the same very predictable outcome. Now he was simply rubbing me with a sponge, soaping me up again and again, as if I were a little child. Seeing the fury in his eyes, I didn't resist. I simply waited patiently, hoping that his sudden rage would wash off with the foamy suds.

But today everything was different! His hands, always so tender, were hurting me, squeezing me too tight, and his dead grip on my wrists was bound to bruise them badly. His mouth tortured me with his kisses, leaving my lips all puffed up. The marks his teeth left all over were bleeding. He was not just entering my body but rather bursting into it... giving me unimaginable pleasure--as if for the last time!

That horrible thought startled me. My eyes opened wide.

"Kristoff, what happened?" My poor lips barely moved.

"You tell me..." he sighed, just as quietly, and rolled off of me.

"Kristoff, I just don't understand…"

"What a surprise, that makes two of us!" Yet his sarcasm died with the next sigh.

"Kristoff, what's bothering you? Tell me!"

Suddenly, in one imperceptibly fluid motion, his face was leaning over me again, his eyes searching mine wildly.

"Tell me, Diana... Do you have everything you want?"

I was still not getting it.

"Yes, everything!"

My answer didn't make him happy.

"Please, tell me, is there anything you desperately want but don't yet have? I could give you everything you could possibly think of!" His morbid excitement was growing by the second. "Diana, what are you still missing? What else can I give you?"

Well, there was that one thing that I wanted but didn't have.

"Freedom..." my lips whispered all by themselves. I immediately wanted to stuff the word back into my mouth, but it was too late!

I could tell something inside of him broke, and his face became a horrible impenetrable mask. Without a sound, he got up, and the door downstairs immediately closed behind him.

 

Paralyzed by visions of an impending disaster, I lay on the bed, drifting in the boundless ocean of ticking minutes. At times, after yet another "century" of anxious waiting, I wanted to get up and go find him, but my body, frozen in the grips of fear, refused to comply. Finally, little by little I sank into the bog of my nightmares...

When I jumped up in bed, awoken by my own scream, a gray, foggy dawn was breaking outside.

I was all alone.

Throwing on the first few things I found, I went out to look for Kristoff. After a sleepless night, my head ached like crazy and my feet felt unsteady, yet I stubbornly kept checking every room on my way. Everything around me seemed fuzzy, as if the morning mist had actually seeped into the house.

Because of that, I was slow to notice puddles of blood in the hall. The worst of it had already been cleaned, but greasy streaks in the corners and below the walls were still gleaming true in their blackish-red splendor.

The fog grew thicker.

The servants going about their horrible cleaning job gasped at the sight of me but kept working. They all wanted to live.

"What happened here?" I could barely recognize my own dead voice.

No one dared answer, but as I rested my eyes on one of them, the poor fellow spoke up in a quick stutter:

"The m-m-master... was very a-a-a-angry, mistress."

"How many?"

He kept quiet.

"How many?!" I raised my voice.

"S-s-six," he breathed out, all trembling.

Feeling immediately nauseous, I rushed outside. Holding on to some kind of a pole, I stood there for a long time, breathing deeply, grateful for the cool touch of the morning mist.

As I composed myself little by little, I noticed a guard nearby and beckoned him to approach. When he did, I asked him if he had seen Kristoff.

"He left, mistress."

"Did he say where?"

"No, mistress," the man said confidently, but then hesitated a moment and added, "He took the sports car though!"

"Meaning what?"

I felt stupid, asking him about Kristoff's habits I still knew nothing about.

For a moment, I thought I saw sparks of scorn flash in the guard's eyes, but then he bowed respectfully and explained:

"The master usually takes the sports car when he goes hunting... mistress."

The fog now went all crimson.

 

** ** **

Get out of here! Immediately!

Go anywhere, as long as it was away from that damned blood-soaked place!

It seemed everything around me--things, buildings, even trees in the garden--were crowding in on me, preventing me from breathing freely!

Barely aware of what I was doing, I gave an order to get the car ready. The guards asked me, politely but firmly, where I would be going, but my subconscious came up with an answer all by itself.

"To see my parents."

It was the only place I could go to by myself, no questions asked. That was handy, because otherwise I would be explaining what on earth I was going to do there at five o'clock in the morning.

I didn't have it in me to explain anything now. Heck, I could barely breathe!

Away!

The guards, having assessed my condition with due professionalism, also provided a chauffeur for the car. Only much later, when we were already far enough away from the estate, did I realize I was not behind the wheel but rather in the back seat.

 

Our convoy was nauseatingly slow, observing every rule in the book. Outside, the autumn woods were waiving their bright leaves: pale green, brown, golden, burgundy, crimson, bloody red, scarlet... like human blood.

Away! Away from here!

"Step on it! Why are we so slow?" I yelled at the driver. It seemed that in another moment the bloody leaves would break inside and bury me underneath.

But instead of hitting the gas pedal or at least responding, the driver tapped the brakes, taking his cue from the escort car ahead that was now slowing down. Then we stopped altogether.

"What's the matter?"

"It looks like there's a bad accident ahead. A parking lot all around. We'll have to take a detour."

We made a sharp U-turn and headed back to where we had just come from. Soon, the entire convoy was speeding along a nondescript yet well-preserved single lane through the forest.

It was on that unfamiliar road in some no less unfamiliar forest that I suddenly realized that my fate was about to make a sharp turn, and not just glide but race unabated to the edge of the precipice!

Up ahead, a tree fell across the road with a deafening crackle that was very much audible even inside, behind the tightly fitting soundproof doors. As if in slow motion, its mighty crown swung down until it touched the car with the guards ahead and then jerked back up somewhat, leaving the vehicle's bottom and wheels spinning wildly up in the air in plain sight.

The driver stood on the brakes, and after burning tires on the blacktop for a second or two we stopped, bumping into the overturned car ahead. Another volley of roaring crackle came from the rear, blocking the escape route behind the second escort vehicle that followed us. Only now, turning my head back to that sound did I realize there were only two escort vehicles this time instead of the usual four, and we were now bottled down on a stretch of the road just a few yards long.

Swinging my head to the front again, I caught a glimpse of some vague shadows moving: the guards were surrounding our vehicle with a protective perimeter. They were moving so fast that I could not quite figure how many they were: eight? Ten?

"Buckle up, mistress! And duck--just in case!" The guard's confident voice was right next to me. Having broken the back of his seat flat, he had moved to the rear to put himself between me and any potential danger. "Don't worry, mistress, you are well protected," he added, soothingly.

Yet his eyes were scanning the edge of the forest nonstop, and his tense body was ready for battle. Still feeling sluggish after the stress of the crazy night before, I now realized we were under attack. The naive child in me wondered how anyone in the world could possibly dare stand up to Kristoff and make an attempt on his property--me!

Following the driver's stare, I noticed, albeit belatedly, figures in shiny protection suits emerging from the roadside bushes. Immediately, dense fog began clouding all around, and in a matter of seconds the entire car was enveloped in a foaming white shroud.

Three heartbeats later, I heard screams of pain interspersed with heavy coughing. Before I could even ask myself what was going on out there, in the billowing haze, someone's disfigured face slammed itself smack against the window, the boiling white of the eye charting a long, fat track as it slowly slumped down. One after another, drops of condensed liquid followed suit.

The driver gave a desperate sigh and I realized what that liquid was. But didn't Moira say the lakes were closely guarded? Well, not as closely, it seemed, as they should have been...

Suddenly, the car shuddered from a terrible blow. The door on my side disappeared, leaving only torn veins of colored wire dangling. A familiar smell entered the cabin--harmless for me, deadly for my driver who immediately succumbed to a bout of terrible cough. Though the sound of it wasn't much different from human coughing, small specks of dark matter being ejected from his mouth and onto the window glass told me that particular paroxysm wasn't going to end well...

Mercifully, I never got to watch his face disintegrating.

Strong hands clad in something shiny pulled me outside, and as they easily snapped the safety belt that still attached me to the car I realized resisting would be pointless. In the merciless world of my beloved, one just couldn't break free. Instead, I simply watched the fog lift, revealing the disemboweled car and the lifeless bodies of the guards all around it.

Surrounded by more ghostly figures in shiny space suits, someone was spiriting me away and into the forest.

We didn't seem to have to travel too far before I was planted on my own two feet again, and the trees around me suddenly swirled in a joyous whirlwind, as if riding some crazy carousel.

"Do you even understand who you are messing with?" Quickly recalling the invaluable experience of the ball, I made my heart slow down and spoke with a kind of unperturbed arrogance. "If you fellas have a death wish, you should have contacted Kristoff directly and spared me the trouble."

The chuckle I got in response was a big no-no for Kristoff's servants--even those who were of his own kind.

"Oh, no, we are going to live long and prosper!"

That voice made blood in my veins freeze. Slowly, I turned around.

All chic and dapper in his light-colored clothes, the dark curls of his hair shining, Adamas was smiling back at me. Unhurriedly, savoring his power over Kristoff's priceless treasure, he came closer and took me by the hand in a very proprietary manner.

"Hello, Diana! You are as incomparable as ever." Leaning over to kiss my hand in a show of mock gallantry, he took a deep breath. "Oh, what a scent! Unbelievable! No wonder he guarded you so closely!" He laughed, and his minions responded with respectful little chortles.

"What do you need me for?" I couldn't help asking even though I realized he'd hardly ever tell me the truth.

Adamas laughed even louder.

"You can't even imagine how many reasons I have! You could say it was inevitable!" He chuckled, his teeth flashing wildly, and asked, "Why? How about enjoying the sight of you fighting your fear? And I have to give it to you, Diana, you almost pulled it off. Almost!" His grin grew wider still.

Something prickled my neck. Just a little. It didn't hurt. Yet falling down and into someone's hands, descending into a drug-induced delirium with someone else's smile on my lips, I knew that the pain would come...

It was inevitable.

 

** ** **

In my dreams, I saw ultimate weariness. The longing to submit to its elephantine weight was almost insurmountable. Yet, a tenacious someone inside of me kept trying to surface from under those blurry visions.

Trying to disregard my skull-cracking headache and the strange synthetic taste in my mouth, I unglued my watering eyes by an act of sheer will.

Right away, everything around me went on a crazy roller coaster ride, but I clenched my teeth and just waited until the whirlwind of motion subsided. Little by little, the outline of a large room began developing--the one with the large bed I was lying on.

That was the moment a massive shadow enveloped me, in which, to my chagrin, I recognized Adamas. The sound of a cover being pulled off immediately followed. Momentarily blinded, I squeezed my eyes shut and could not help moaning.

Only now, when I instinctively tried to cover my eyes with my hands, did I realize they were tied behind my back.

Unexpectedly for myself, I broke into an unfamiliar cackling laughter without ever opening my unwieldy eyes.

"Funny dreams, huh?" my abductor began from afar, almost good-naturedly.

"You know, Adamas, I should probably be interested in a lot of things now, from the many reasons you may have for abducting me, to what you are going to do to me, and when." Inexplicably, my voice was now brimming with carefree joy. "But in fact, I am only curious about one thing..."

"Which is?"

"What you are going to say when Kristoff comes to rip your heart out!" I laughed again, quietly wondering about my own strange reactions.

"Are you sure he is stronger than me?" His voice was now really close. His breath touched my face, making me finally open my uncooperative eyes. The wave of sharp pain that swallowed my head whole reminded me Kristoff was not the only one who was as fast as the wind.

"Of course!" I said with suicidal impudence. "Everyone could see it during the fight. Besides, you kidnapped me, and his lust for revenge will only make him stronger. So, your goose is cooked, Adamas!" Nudged by some crazy demon inside of me, I laughed wildly.

However, instead of a strong blow that logic dictated should have followed all I felt was the mattress I was lying on sagging: Adamas took a seat next to me.

"You are so beautiful, Diana," he said calmly, as if impervious to those insolent, teasing words of mine. "Beautiful..." he repeated thoughtfully as his hand touched my face and slid down along my body, making me shudder with disgust. "Once upon a time, I also used to know a beautiful girl like you, and she didn't find my touch so repugnant. In fact, it was that perfect Kristoff of yours that she was truly disgusted by.Understand, Diana, that she was not born hating him right away; rather, it happened naturally as she learned what he was really like..."

His voice was drifting away, as if switched off by a merciful hand, but while I still had the strength to reach him I made a conscientious effort and spat, with as much defiance as I could muster:

"It doesn't matter. I don't believe you, anyway!"

I was not ready to listen to his story. Not then.

Gracious darkness gave me some respite...

Coming to for the second time, now for real, I was in no hurry to tempt death. The strange urge to make fun of Adamas was gone. Lying still and trying to breathe shallow not to reveal that I was awake, I studied the decrepit room with brown-gray streaks of peeling plaster on the walls. The thick layer of dust that covered everything suggested the place must have been abandoned for some time.

So that the place would be "clean," with no trail left behind, my own experience as a fugitive suggested.

Adamas stood by the huge dirty window the size of the entire wall, looking out with some concentration. Nothing in his posture indicated he knew I was no longer asleep.

There was a folding chair next to the inflatable mattress I was lying on. I saw a bottle of water and a piece of cheese on it and felt my stomach rumble. I licked my lips and chuckled: it was all so prosaic!

"Is the food for me?" My voice was hoarse, as if I had been screaming.

"Yes," said Adamas without turning.

"And?"

"And what?" he asked, apparently annoyed, still looking out the window. I was distracting him.

"As you may have noticed, I am a human, so it is kind of inconvenient for me to eat with my hands tied, especially when lying down. To put it mildly."

He turned. One would imagine I had some racy outfit on, because his impudent eyes took their time to inspect my body all over.

"You've got guts, Diana!" he smirked. "Giving me orders, in your position... Guts isn't a good match for Kristoff. He likes them submissive."

"If you say so. I--"

Before I could say anything else, he was by my side, easily ripping the rope apart without as much as touching my skin. Groaning with pain, I took a while rubbing my wrists to restore blood circulation.

"Why did you even bother tying me up? What, you thought I was going to run away?"

Adamas laughed back and shook his head.

"How long did I sleep?"

"I don't know. A day, maybe a little longer. In any case, I only noticed one sunset."

Since I was starving and, worse yet, thirsty as hell, I was fairly skeptical. Reaching for the pint-sized bottle, I gulped it down in one large swig, but that didn't do much to the fire I felt burning inside. The water left a slightly acerbic aftertaste in my mouth.

Still, breathing became easier, and I looked around. My eyes lingered a second on the entry door.

"Don't even think about it! The first time you try something, I'll break your left arm," Adamas promised me with a tender smile.

"Why not the right one?" I snapped back.

"That would work, too."

He seemed so confident and so much in control of himself that I simply ached to find a chink in his armor where I could hurt him the worst and wipe that damned mask of cool smugness off his face.

My female intuition lent a hand.

"I remind you of her, right? That girl of yours?"

"What?" He tried to keep his calm, but I knew my gut feeling was right and nodded to confirm it.

"I figured that much. You loved her, Adamas, didn't you? But you couldn't save her!" The strange feeling that my speculations were true was so strong that it almost scared me. Yet I continued, "So now you are trying to take your revenge in the most despicable manner, using another girl who is just as beautiful and helpless--"

"Shut up!" His hand pinned me to the mattress, making breathing impossible, and his eyes promised sure death--of a slow, uneasy kind. Finally, he let go of me and watched with disgust as I gasped for breath. "You are way too confident! You are way too sure of his love for you! But admit it, don't you worry about what's going to come next, when you become ordinary? When you grow old? I can see it in your eyes I am right! You think you know him, but in fact what you have seen is just a tiny slice of his endless life! Let me tell you what he is really like!"

"Save your breath, I've already experienced his bad side on my own skin," I mumbled, rubbing my neck, but Adamas wasn't listening anymore.

It seemed his empty eyes staring at me were actually focused on the past. He began talking.

"It's been over forty years. Some would say that's a long time. And it is... for your kind. There are way too many of you humans, and you burn out fast. It's a waste of effort to even try to remember your names! Yet she was just like you--special. No, I am not going to forget her name. Her name was Sylvia. And what a ravishing beauty she was! Some five years older than you, with a short bob she insisted she was not going to change. Ever." A tender smile touched Adamas' lips.

"Kristoff came across her by mere accident, at one of the food collection stations. An orphan and a rebel that wouldn't listen to anyone or take crap from anyone, she had not a soul in the world who could possibly raise the alarm.

"Whether it was her shiny eyes, explosive temper or the childish unwillingness to accept reality that attracted him to her is anyone's guess--as is whether Kristoff was really serious about her. Yet he decided to play a real dirty trick on her!

"She was let go, none the wiser of what horrible fate she had escaped at the whim of the master she didn't know.

"Kristoff met her on the very same day, dressed as a dirt-poor bum."

It appeared that Adamas had never stopped wondering what that material girl--and that's exactly what she had to be!--could possibly want with Kristoff. However, well aware of his dangerous charms, I asked no such question. He would take her to his dilapidated shack, feed her scraps and scare her with his fake poverty while at the same time luring her with his bewitching masculine appeal...

"He treated her differently from you. She was but a toy to him!" Adamas kept mumbling without taking his frozen, unseeing eyes off of me.

There was nothing left of that cruel kidnapper. What I saw in front of me was a grieving old man reliving his sorrows...

"Then all of a sudden Sylvia began avoiding Kristoff, and he moved heaven and earth, putting all his guards on her to see if she was cheating on him. But she wasn't!" A flash of cold steel flared in Adamas' eyes, boding me no good. "Oh, poor Sylvia! All she wanted was a way out of her hopeless life! She just wanted protection and a little opportunity--and the irony of it was that her 'penniless' beau could offer her plenty of both!

"Finally, having failed to get what he wanted--love despite poverty and unconditional trust--Kristoff decided to punish her. He asked his good friend Adamas to woo her, dangling his wealth in front of her.

"To my great sorrow, I obliged. If only I knew how beautiful she was! How alluring! How could I know she'd become so dear to me? She really blossomed with me, becoming her old natural self: daring, unpredictable...

"When, certain that she had found her prince, Sylvia sent Kristoff packing, he delivered his final blow.

"She was summoned by her boss at her workplace--she had worked as a low level administrative assistant at a ship-building company--and told, to her surprise, that the new owner whose multinational corporation had just acquired the company wanted to speak to her.

"All apprehensive, she entered the luxurious corner office and saw Kristoff in a designer suit behind a massive desk. Her heart sank! Her face became a mask of inhuman horror.

"Savoring her shock, Kristoff told her everything--about himself, about everything she had lost and... about his friend Adamas who had helped him expose her for the rotten gold-digger that she was.

"I was sure that would be the end of it! Kristoff called off his goons. He didn't need her anymore. I decided to get her for myself and take her away! Naturally, she wouldn't forgive me for the role I played in setting her up, but I didn't care if she stayed with me of her own free will or otherwise. I just wanted her by my side!" Having said those screamingly familiar words, he shook his head, as if offering an excuse, "Besides, she had always been poor, so she would sooner or later grow to love it--my money, that is, if not me."

I just couldn't keep my sarcasm to myself. "Oh, she was a mere human, wasn't she? What did it matter if she loved you or not? All that mattered was that she be by your side." Yet, too many things in that story rang too many painful bells!

Adamas looked down and remained silent for a long time. Then, throwing a sideways glance at me, he spoke up again.

"You do know, Diana, how vindictive he can be, don't you? I should have known, too. How could I not anticipate what he was about to do?" Sudden fury swept the mask of sadness off his face and he bellowed, "He murdered her! Just because he wouldn't see her happy with someone else! He just wouldn't let me have her! And I don't even have any idea how she met her end, or what he did to her! What she even felt when she got to know the true him!"

His face suddenly zoomed in close and he whispered, almost soundlessly:

"He didn't even need her! On the other hand, you, Diana... he needs you very much!" His wicked smile finally drove it home for me that my life was now balancing on the edge.

"Oh, so now you are going to kill me? To get even?" I was almost sure he was.

Grinning, he shook his head.

"I was thinking of that, but then I saw how he looked at you in that lake cave. There could be something way more hurtful for him than just your death..."

It was only now that I realized the sound of his voice was getting lower and lower, as if he was drifting away. Slowly, the room began getting all blurry in front of my eyes, going in circles.

"By the way, I was not the only one who wanted to take you away from Kristoff. I had help. These days, Diana, you are a hot commodity, indeed!" His gleeful face went double before my weakening eyes. "But I have plans of my own for you... What, you dizzy? That means the drug is kicking in. Don't worry, it'll pass. There won't even be a whiff left. Trust me, if I can't smell it, neither can Kristoff. Modern chemistry... works miracles... costs an arm and a leg..."

And then the voice was there no more.

 

** ** **

The cold was terrible. Huge, pointed snowflakes were floating in front of my wide-open eyes, touching my bare skin, scratching it with their tiny razor blades. Yet the pain was pushed to the background by the breathtaking beauty of the intricate ice crystals that replaced one another, falling down, down, down...

It was such a pity that a sun exploding inside of me vaporized them all without a trace!

Now the tongues of sweltering heat were licking my body, as scorching rays pierced it, trying to break free...

"Dia-a-a-na... My love..."

I laughed happily back as Kyle's tender hands were touching me, bringing the welcome cool. No one had ever been as tender with me as he! I found his lips. Oh, how I missed them! But now...

I opened my eyes and froze for a moment in utter amazement: the person smiling back at me was Kristoff! Anxiety raised its ugly head for a second and then subsided: he was the brightest star ever, and nothing in the world could outshine him! And I loved him! Burning with anticipation, I clung to him, as we became one...

"You see, didn't I promise you? Remember?" Kristoff spoke in Adamas' voice.

Confusion hit me like a ton of bricks, turning my mind upside down as I realized Adamas had me in his arms, a contented smile on my lips. My body, which seemed like it wasn't mine at all, but rather taking orders from someone else altogether, froze with horror as I consciously processed my hands in Adamas' hair and my legs locked around his waist. His alien smell made everything inside of me shudder with disgust.

Suddenly, just as my horror reflected in his eyes, replacing the mask of some strange, unseemly jubilance on his face, he disappeared. Something crashed with terrible noise, rocking the mattress underneath me and shaking the room to its very core, enshrouding it in a cloud of white dust...

For the mere second that my human eye had available to record the goings-on, he who alone could stop that horror stood unimaginably tall in his blurry, ghostly splendor.

"Kristoff!" My hands reached for him on their own accord, like a child's, but he was already gone.

I sighed with relief: he found me! Now it was all going to be all right!

His very name liberated my mind from the drug-induced torpor, and every new breath I took made the reality more pronounced...

Yet another powerful blow, as if someone or something was ramming the wall, brought my self-awareness completely back. The mattress absorbed most of the shock, quite possibly saving me the aggravation of a broken back, and flipped from under me, landing on top of me and barricading me in a corner. Once I took the first peek from behind it, I could not take my eyes off of what was taking place in the room.

The few still frames my brain managed to isolate from the hectic whirlwind of motion made the fight above the lake absolutely impossible. Yes, the enraged Kristoff was that powerful, and his sorry opponent simply did not stand a chance. It wasn't a fight, it was a complete, wholesale slaughter, and very soon Adamas' body became but a broken rag doll that took every new atrocious blow with meek indifference, flying from one wall to another, unable to find refuge from its pursuer anywhere...

Then Kristoff turned his attention to me.

I recoiled, meeting his stare. My bare feet scraped the floor, my hands scratched themselves raw clutching at chunks of plaster and brick that for some reason were carpeting the entire room, my heart sprinted, making breathing impossible. I was mortified, every last living ounce of me! Finally, squeezing myself into a corner, I froze--because there was nowhere else to go.

"Scared? You'd better be... beloved!" The last word whipped me like the worst of insults, almost stopping my heart. He was suddenly right in front of me, looking me straight in the face, a vile grin on his lips. "What, cat got your tongue, Diana? Go ahead, give me your best excuse! Come on, lay it down on me, I want to hear!"

"I was drugged..." I whispered hopelessly, knowing it was not going to do any good.

As if confirming that assumption, the smirk on his face became an expression of utter contempt.

"Who could have thought your imagination would be so pedestrian!" The beautiful mask of sang-froid on his face suddenly exploded and he roared, "No one has a better sense of smell! I would have known! I would have sensed it!!!"

He grabbed my wrist and squeezed it so hard that the bruising of our last night together was immediately replaced by a totally new séance of torture. His face, trembling with rage, zoomed in to the max and he spat:

"What else could you possibly want?"

I told him the truth:

"Your trust!"

The blow lit my face, knocking the wind out of me and landing me on the floor. Something hot streamed down my chin...

In one inhumanly agile jump, he reached the door that beckoned me with its promise of freedom once and ripped it open.

"Come with me!" The animal roar had nothing left in it of his affection for me. He disappeared through the doorframe, not even bothering to check if his orders were being obeyed.

Slowly, trying to take my mind off the pain in my injured feet and hands, I got up, holding on to the wall, and began looking for my clothes under the piles of broken bricks and debris. Finding only a pair of pants and a torn blouse, I brushed the dust off of them as best I could, put them on and limped towards the door, taking notice of a pile of rags by the windows. That was all there was left of Adamas. Apparently, he had gotten what he deserved in full. But why didn't it make me feel any better?

Maybe it was because I now knew what his idea of revenge was.

The room where Adamas kept me, waiting for Kristoff to find us, was located on the top floor of a high-rise. Walking down countless flights of stairs that on top of all my other woes made me dizzy, I was thinking of how Sylvia, the girl Kristoff did not need, had met her end. I did not even want to think of what he was going to do with me--someone he did need and who he thought had betrayed him. I didn't know if he had loved her, but he did love me.

Or did he?

Down in the courtyard of that abandoned building, there were three identical powerful vehicles. Anticipating my possible confusion, the guards rudely pushed me into one of them, disturbing my busted lip in the process.

He was already there, in the back seat, separated from the driver with an opaque partition. I found myself so close to him--and yet so far.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind me, I slid as far away as I could on the seat, towards the window, and began dabbing at my lip that was now bleeding even worse than before. The blood kept on gushing, and soon both my sleeves presented ample proof of his violent outburst.

"It looks like I overdid it a little," Kristoff laughed nervously, breaking the ominous silence.

"Or held back, maybe? It's all right, I still have plenty of other organs you could turn into pulp!"

He looked at me point blank, working his jaws and clenching his fists until they turned white. "Not for long, Diana," he grumbled, leaving me no doubt whatsoever that he was indeed going to kill me.

't must all be a bad dream, I thought. Even now, after he hit me, I couldn't believe that we were having this kind of conversation.

Infinitely wise, having benefitted from centuries of life experience and a sparkling intellect, he now seemed to be more foolish than the greenest of green youngsters.

"You know, Kristoff, I just don't get it..." I knew it was no use, but I simply could not give up without at least trying to carry the message across. "It makes no sense at all. How could you even believe something like that? You never took your eyes off of me, and when you did I was always under guard. I wouldn't have been able to cheat on you even if I wanted to! And now that I have been kidnapped and drugged, you--"

"Shut it!" A grimace distorted his lips, revealing his fangs. "I said nothing when your hands smelled of him! I said nothing when your entire body reeked of him! I even tried to wash it off of you and forget the whole thing! But now that I have found you in bed with him... Do you take me for an idiot?!"

"What the--?"

"You reeked of Adamas!" he screamed and shook his head in mock disbelief. "I couldn't believe this was even possible... But now I don't even want to know!"

"Kristoff, I love you. For once, could you believe me? Just once in a lifetime..."

"Your life is way too short!" The next moment, he was dragging me out onto the street. It appeared that we had already returned, but I was too overwhelmed by his unimaginable accusations to notice anything around me.

"Kristoff..." I began again, as if on a closed loop, but a strong yank knocked me of my feet.

Everything became one continuous stretch of pain and humiliation. Under the spiteful eyes of my former servants, he was dragging me behind, like I was some kind of an inanimate object. And not a particularly valuable one, so there was no need to pause before any doorsteps or take care going up the stairs... Though at the very beginning I went beyond myself to avoid the sharpest edges, once we reached his wing--the one that was ours in the distant, almost forgotten past--all beaten up and mangled, I gave up and took the new blows, bruises and scratches with hopeless indifference.

"Diana!" Moira's scream filled the entire house.

Conversely, her sincere sympathy made me feel even worse, reminding me that I was innocent and that I was alive... well, for the time being.

"Kristoff... please, it hurts..." My voice revealed an entire gamut of feelings: acquiescence, pleading, acceptance of my fate.

For a moment, it seemed that I broke through the ice he had clammed up behind, but then he resumed his merciless march forward that was slowly killing me. An eternity later, he reached our room and launched me across the polished floor. I slid towards the opposite wall, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Then Moira broke into the room. "Have you gone mad? What are you doing to her?!"

"Get out, Moira!" Kristoff screamed. Though it wasn't so much a scream as a roar of a wounded animal.

"She is a human being! Do you even understand how much you are hurting her? She's so fragile! Kristoff, stop!!!" Barely visible through the bloody veil that covered my eyes, Moira rushed to my side.

"Go away!" He grabbed her midway and threw her against the wall. A bunch of shelves went crushing down with a horrible bang.

Yet the slender, fragile Moira dodged the hard surface and fearlessly came back at him, disregarding the obvious difference in size. I wanted to warn her that today was not a good day to go against her brother, but the skirmish was over before I could squeeze any words out. Moira barely held for a minute or two against Kristoff.

"Guards!" he bellowed, and then again, as soon as they showed up, "Get her out of here!"

I could tell how reluctant the guards were to approach her. Four-strong, they were still afraid of her. Yet they were infinitely more afraid of their enraged master, and in the end, despite all her agile and valiant efforts, Moira was finally restrained.

"Don't you ever dare say no to me!" he gave her the victory yell. "You will never see Diana again! I will feed her to... to... No! I'll kill her myself! Do you hear me? With my own hands!"

Moira looked up. Her dark stare made the guards recoil for a moment, and she made a sudden dash to my side. Yet, Kristoff's presence gave the opposition additional strength. As the four burly men dragged her away, her bottomless eyes stayed with the shapeless pile on the floor that was me.

As the door slammed, cutting off the only sympathetic soul I could count on, Kristoff grabbed a chair, turned it around and sat down, quietly. Keeping his silence, he gave me a long, hard stare. I itched to ask him how he liked me now--after everything he had done to me...

"There is a dungeon beneath the house," he said nonchalantly, as if discussing weather. "I designed it myself and oversaw construction. It has come handy before. The best thing about it is soundproofing--no one ever hears any screams or moans. The doors even keep the smells inside. You could be kept alive there for years, and no one would be the wiser. Nothing at all would remind me of you! Or you could just die, like hundreds before you. You'll simply disappear without a trace."

Hundreds? I wanted to ask if those were all the loved ones he had killed, and whether there had been at least one among them who he thought was his equal and worthy of his trust.

Suddenly, almost cheerfully, he slapped his knees in a human gesture that seemed totally out of place, as if he were about to hit the road. Getting up, he looked at me with cold, clinical interest.

"Well, it's time... Any last words?"

Well, duh, it was so kind of him to honor the old tradition!

Were there even any words left that would be worth making the effort, breaking my caked lips apart, pushing the air out? Did talk even matter anymore? But then I searched my broken soul and found those words.

"When... you learn the truth... remember... I won't forgive you... ever!"

Never before had the abyss in his eyes been so black and so hungry.

"That won't be required!"

Suddenly, a spasm distorted his face, as if someone had mercilessly torn a mask off of it. His bright lips, the ones that I liked to kiss so much, his high, sharp cheekbones, his wise forehead, the emeralds of the eyes accentuated by bushy eyebrows--my beloved was gone altogether, causing me one last torment, the most unbearable of them all!

His enchanting perfect handsomeness disappeared without a trace, revealing once again the hideous monster standing before me...

 

Screams of pain bothered none of those who were scraping me off the floor; nor did they touch the indifferent monster watching his servants' travails. They dragged my lifeless body past their master, letting our eyes meet for the last time, and left the room.

I failed to notice where and when the miles of familiar corridors gave wave to the dusk of the catacombs. I could not even believe we had reached our destination when a massive door opened in front of me and a strong pair of hands tossed me in.

The floor hit me, dealing me the final blow, and I heard the lock click somewhere far away.

Endless, deafening silence filled the darkness.

Indifferent fate decided that yet another stage of my life was over. It tore off my bright wings and skinned the outer layers of happiness off of me, leaving me to die.

 

Part Three

 

** ** **

There was nothing left in my universe but pain.

High notes of scratches and cuts supported the chords of large wounds in perfect harmony. Blood racing in countless bruises reverberated so loudly that I could no longer tell where one distinct beat of my speeding heart stopped and another began. The dull ache of fractured bones served as a unifying background theme, turning it all into a perfect symphony of pain.

With some perverted vengeful glee, I was thinking that Kristoff was totally clueless as to how badly he beat me.

The weak blow that, though barely one thousandth of his strength, proved hard enough to smash my lips, was more humiliating than hurtful. Most of the damage inflicted while he was dragging me across the house remained largely unseen to his insane eyes. When bidding his servants to take me away, he forgot (or chose not to?) to remind them that I was a human being. On the way to the dungeon, eager to please their master and taking their cues from him, they piled up more of the same on top of what he may have overlooked.

There was a time long, long ago, when that little girl I barely remembered, Diana Snowe, managed to get hurt on rare occasions when strict adult supervision faltered, and all her wounds healed without a trace in record time. Would that remarkable ability help me now?

Did I even want to be healed?

Death was near. I felt its cold breath right next to me. I was not afraid.

For the first time, my body, mind and soul were ready to accept it with no resistance as something inevitable. Oh, how many times I managed to evade it, persistent to the point of insanity, childishly believing I could win! Oh, naive little me...

What I wanted now was to die as quickly as possible, and not just because my life had become one never-ending torment. Rather, I was certain that Kristoff would eventually overcome his pride, reflect on what had happened, and put two and two together. Too many things just wouldn't compute. There was no doubt in my mind that he would learn the truth sooner or later.

I passionately wished it would rather happen later.

Then the cold came.

Its first timid goose bumps were barely perceptible through the mighty orchestra of my pain. Yet the icy tongue that licked my body was growing bolder by the minute, augmenting the pain that only a short while before seemed to be as bad as it could possibly get.

Suddenly, I found myself crouching in a fetal position, shuddering with uncontrollable spasms.

I realized I had a fever and smiled. The crust on my lip broke again, though I couldn't taste the flowing blood. Now I didn't have long to wait.

... even monsters are entitled to some happiness...

'Perhaps, but even their happiness is monstrous...'

... I have never seen you like this before....

'Do you like me when I am like this?"

... I want you to be by my side. Always.

'Oh, I will be, Kristoff! It's not like I have a choice. I will stay in this dungeon forever... By your side...'

"Oh, no, mistress... Hold on, it won't be long now..."

'That's what I hoped for--that it won't be long...'

Something touched my lips, and liquid poured in, and I swallowed. And then again, and again. Because of the fever, the water tasted bitter, but it mattered little. What did matter was that my thirst was going away.

"Mistress... I am no mistress to you..." My voice was barely audible, even to myself.

"Keep quiet, mistress. Save you strength."

Opening my eyes was an insurmountable task. Through the narrow slits, the dim light of the open doorway blinded me for a moment, but I could still discern the dark silhouette of the guard (warden?) squatting over me. Clicking his tongue sympathetically, he intimated that "he was coming from Miss Moira"--as if that explained everything.

"Moira..." A sudden flashback warmed me up for a moment. There was someone.... the only person who cared about me.

My memory did not keep any record of the reply that followed.

A dark abyss engulfed me.

 

** ** **

A long squeak brought me back from my oblivion. Making an effort to open my eyes a crack, I saw a rectangle of light--a door ajar.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood in the doorway, blocking the light.

Amazed at my hidden reserves of strength, I squeezed out a semblance of a cackle.

"Kristoff..." my laughter morphed into coughing. "I am so happy... blissfully... my love..."

Time to take care of some more of my organs that haven't been hurt yet? Well, too late, I wanted to say. I don't have any left! And if you came down here to deliver on your promise to kill me, you won't find it much fun either. I dream of dying!

I wanted to hurl those words at him and see them shred him to pieces!

But all my strength was already gone.

He moved toward me, still as fuzzy as before in the dark of the dungeon. The light behind him played tricks with my delirious consciousness, making the newcomer taller or shorter, thinning him out one second and adding girth the next. I needed to see his eyes, but I couldn't even make out his face.

Suddenly, he knelt by my side and reached out for me, his fingers trembling. Exhaling sharply, he steadied their feverish dance and began collecting my broken body into his hands--carefully, tenderly...

Grabbing at his clothes like a spider, my hand finally reached his face. Unfortunately, it turned out to be just as blind as my eyes since I couldn't make out his facial expression. Still, it was impossible to miss the hurried kisses that covered my fingers and my palm. Hot drops began streaming down towards my elbow.

A-a-ah...

"How quickly..."

How quickly he learned the truth! I never did have time to die! Pity.

Now I'd have to get better, cared for by the best doctors who would put me back together again--a favorite toy that got accidentally broken.

And listen to his endless, meaningless "sorries" and professions of love.

And be by his side...

 

** ** **

I was burning!

The fever took over my body and mind unconditionally, erasing time, leaving tiny little windows for reality, augmenting its smudged snapshots with colorful visions of the past...

... Dark crowns of century-old trees sway slightly as I am being carried through the sleeping garden. A night breeze gently touches my face, and huge, variegated stars are shining up in the sky. And here I am, flying off into that sky, screaming with delight, knowing it all too well that the strong hands of my beloved are waiting for me down below. And then, falling down, I fly right past them and get smashed to smithereens against the ice cold floor of the dungeon.

... Elaborate curses, skillfully piled on high, layer upon layer, into multistory constructs boggle my mind with their ornate uniqueness. Even in my delirium, I know that no respectable man would be saying anything like it in the presence of a lady--and maybe not even in the absence of one. It seems even more dreamlike to hear them from a neat elderly man in a white coat who is leaning over me. A doctor, most likely.

"What kind of a monster did this to her?!"

Hush, you silly doctor! Don't you know this monster is right next to you? In his home, they have their own specific ways of punishing defiance.

The sound of buttons being pushed on a keypad.

"You've got food coming."

"Kristoff, no! Kristoff, please, call it off! I am begging you!"

... Countless touches, almost imperceptible on my burning skin--probing, prodding, pulling... The smell of iodine, arrhythmic clanking of metal instruments, the stench of pharmaceuticals, low humming of equipment, electronic pinging... And above it all, a terrible headache.

"I won't live through this one!"

"Oh, yes, you will. If we skip some of the tests, nobody is going to go for our throats."

Don't joke like that, Kyle! Please, don't! You know he'll go for our throats all right...

... Familiar fingers caressing my face, my neck, my hands... Countless kisses on my eyelids, forehead, lips... They are light as feathers, I can barely feel them. Indistinguishable words morph into unintelligible tender cooing, of which I can only make out "Diana... my love..."

And then comes that very roaring voice, spitting curses, promising punishment by death!

Someone's fingers painfully squeeze my palm, tormenting me.

The iron grip on my wrists is getting tighter and tighter. I can't break free, can't flee, can't save myself from his fiery passion! I will have to burn with him!

"Scared? You'd better be... beloved!"

... The scent of flowers... Irises, peonies, the bitterness of chrysanthemums, the sweet vanilla of plumeria, roses... Which is it? Or is it all of them together?

A cozy, light room with a large window that is wide open. Fresh air is filling me with life, drop by drop, and then there's that iodine smell again. The breeze is playing with the semitransparent curtain, raising it like some kind of a cupola over the dancing Moira who is also singing something unbelievably beautiful in her clear, high voice. My friend, my newly found sister, the only one who trusts me as much as I trust her!

"Haven't you noticed how he looks at you, how he searches for your gaze and scent?"

Yes, he will sniff me out wherever I am. I can't hide from him, Moira...

... The sound of running water is putting me to sleep, and I simply can't open my eyes and see what's around. Warm water tenderly hugs my body, and I stop resisting and drift away once again. In my dreams, I see the waves breaking gently.

Tender hands are giving me a bath, as if I were a child--carefully, delicately. A stream of water is running down, washing off the lather, and then I am once again being vigorously rubbed with a sponge and soaped up again and again... to destroy any smell of Adamas.

... Lightning flashes, blinding the entire world, making someone's silhouette next to me momentarily visible in the surrounding darkness. Above the deafening thunder, I can barely hear someone talking:

"Diana, my love, this is just a thunderstorm, don't be afraid!"

The horrible ruckus behind the closed window is interspersed with rhythmic hissing. We follow the rhythm of the thunderstorm, moving, resonating with the fireworks of the lightning, loud moans of our pleasure overlaying the thunder. I am happy with him!

Yet, some nudging anxiety is clawing at me from the inside, to the point of bleeding.

Why?

... The strange, high shrieks are, strangely enough, surprisingly peaceful and free. I am not afraid for the screamers.

Then again comes that familiar smell that now barely registers anymore: flowers and iodine.

The cocoon of silence and sleep envelops me. A butterfly with her wings torn off, I freeze, awaiting the next stage in my metamorphosis. Except with me it all works backwards.

As before, I have not a clue as to what new life awaits me, except I know for sure that whatever it is going to be, forgiveness will not be a part of it.

Or happiness.

 

** ** **

I woke up in an unfamiliar world.

It was full of morning sun and the subdued murmur of waves. The wind brushing against the curtain brought the smell of iodine that was immediately augmented by the scent of flowers on the table by the window and on the floor, next to my bed.

It was very quiet here: no screaming, no pain, no baseless accusations. So quiet that I lay still for a long time, just breathing in and out, coming to grips with the idea that I was alive. And not particularly happy about it. Then I turned my gaze to the door, bracing myself for whatever might come next.

This world hadn't yet had the chance to get to know the new me--one that had very little in common with the old Diana.

 

The door squeaked and, yielding to the sudden impulse, I closed my eyes. It wasn't that I was afraid. I was simply not looking forward to the endless and meaningless flood of excuses and apologies he was certain to drown me in right away.

But it wasn't Kristoff: the newcomer's steps were unusually loud. Coming close, he touched my wrist, checking for a pulse. Suddenly I was curious if it was the same doctor that had been cussing so passionately while putting me back together. Or maybe the poor wretch had already paid with his life for his boldness? Still, I never opened my eyes.

Someone else came in, a careful spring in his step.

"How is she doing?" a familiar male voice asked.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not put a face to that voice. At the same time, making myself look seemed outright impossible, too.

"Doing fine," said an elderly male, the doctor, a tinge of doubt in his voice. "To be honest with you, I am flabbergasted. To be sure, you told me she was in a great state of health, enviably so, yet this still goes above and beyond what I have ever seen! You have to understand, though, that this is the only thing that saved her. Anyone else in her shoes..."

"Yes, I know," the asker cut him off curtly.

"I was certain she'd regain consciousness today."

Careful steps approached, and I felt the lightest of touches on my hand. It was as if the person was afraid to hurt me by merely touching.

"But... what will happen when she does wake up?" The worry in his voice should have come through as annoying, but for reasons unknown it made me feel sympathetic.

The doctor remained silent for a long time.

"You know what. From that point on, it all depends on you. I did what I could."

"Yes, I know. Thank you. I am in your debt."

Who are you? I wanted to ask, but even what little information I had gleaned wearied my feeble mind of an infant. The quiet voices around began fading, and I fell asleep.

 

** ** **

Somebody was knocking.

It was up to me to let the person in or not. That felt good.

Smiling to that idea through my sleep, I sat down in my bed and opened my eyes. The shock that followed almost put me back in the horizontal position.

The room I was in--fairly small and full of light--rang no bells whatsoever. Plentiful wicker furniture in beige made it look particularly cozy. There was a soft rug sticking out from under the bed, the walls sported some fairly ornate lighting fixtures, and there was a rocking chair by the window. And flowers, flowers everywhere.

There was another knock: the wind pushed the big open window frame back against its arrester peg on the floor. I smiled again, this time in a more relaxed manner. So that was what woke me up.

A gust of wind bursting into the room filled it with the familiar bouquet of smells from my trance-like dreams. This time iodine was accompanied by salt, ozone freshness and a rhythmic noise.

They drew me like a magnet.

Suddenly, the desire to learn what was there, outside the window, overwhelmed me. Without thinking, I got up, and though, startled at the move, I immediately grabbed back at my bed, I was pleased to realize that nothing seemed to be wrong with me. Nothing hurt, and I wasn't even dizzy. Except that I was so weak that the world seemed way lighter than it probably was. I may have been able to wake up sooner, but my brain, apparently protecting the body, stretched the period of rest a while longer.

Slowly but growing more confident with every new step, I approached the window and then, putting my foot across the threshold, found myself outside. The strange sensation underneath made me look down to the rounded white paving stones that pleasantly massaged my bare feet.

The following moment, the uninhibited widescreen picture out front captured my undivided attention.

The window opened onto a huge terrace on a rock ledge. No one was watching me, no one held my hand, and the freedom of the open space ahead beckoned to me, unabashed. Yielding to its magnetism, I drew closer and closer to the edge.

Taking yet another step, I froze, unable to believe my eyes.

In front of me, stretching all the way out to the horizon, an ocean rolled its tempestuous waves. Gray clouds blanketed the sky, with only some occasional rays of sun peeking through like thin, piercing needles. Giant waves rose, exposing their murky bellies to those interlopers, eager to throw off a momentary bright flash of green or turquoise. A raging gale brought salty spray and the smell of seaweed. Yet the storm, which had to be fairly dangerous for more reasons than one, didn't scare me. On the contrary, I longed to go down to the surf line, plunge my feet into its foaming mayhem and let my body feel the primeval force of the waves.

The eerie feeling of freedom engulfed me, raising me high, as if I were a kite. Spreading my arms wide, feeling the shock of my hair behind flapping like an insolent breadth of a raincoat in the wind, I let out a shriek of happiness into the face of the furious gale.

Who gave them the right to control my life? From now on, it would be mine and mine alone!

As the sound of distant hurried steps materialized behind me, I smiled and looked down again to where the black, jagged teeth of the rock crowded the shore. The old me would have most likely taken advantage of this convenient opportunity, but now the very thought of suicide seemed stupid. Harm myself to hurt Kristoff? Yeah, right.

There was no more room for him--in my life or my death!

The man was getting closer...

Convinced that nothing in the world could overcome my newly acquired strength, I turned to finally face him!

Boy, was I wrong! My strength was suddenly dwindling with every step the man took.

The vigorous stride, broad shoulders and fine facial features, long lost in the distant past of Diana the servant. The man, deeply mourned and buried in a faraway corner of her soul by Diana the mistress.

Kyle.

"It can't be..."

He froze some three steps away. His stare, sharp voice and his entire body radiated tremendous strain of someone bracing himself for an imminent jump.

"Diana, step away from the edge! Please!"

"Can't be..."

Consumed by his worry for me, at first he did not realize what that flash of craziness in my eyes was all about, and when he did, he froze himself.

"Listen, I won't just sit here and wait for them to kill me. As soon as I know you have escaped successfully, I will also flee. I promise."

"But if you don't know where I am, how are you going to find me?"

"I'm sure I will think of something!"

Having paid for my escape with his very life, having--in my mind--died and left this world years ago, Kyle was now three steps away.

That was when all strength finally left me, and with an insane chuckle I fell right into his arms.

 

** ** **

Patchy, barely coherent sentences were going right past my shell-shocked brain, failing to register much.

"It's me indeed... Diana, my love... alive... escaped just like I was going to... kept looking but couldn't find... too late..."

Though I could tell my face remained blank, he kept talking and talking, perhaps trying to put himself at ease, if nothing else.

He held me firmly, pulling me away from the edge, afraid that I was going to fall. And he may have had cause to, since at that moment I was as far away from sanity as I had ever been.

With the edge of the terrace firmly behind us, Kyle scooped me up in his arms and quickly carried me back to the house I had left a few minutes before.

Trying to break free, I banged my fists on his back and chest. I wanted to hurt him even though I had no idea why. To beat back my own pain, perhaps?

I was screaming "Traitor!", swallowing salty tears that streamed down my cheeks, becoming one with the ocean spray. Perhaps, because it was me who was the traitor?

He put me on the bed I woke up in. The unpleasant smell in the room surprised me. In a matter of seconds, the wheeled medicine cart by the bed that I had not noticed before swallowed up the ocean freshness whole.

"I have already seen this storm before... in my dreams. Did you know that? Of course you didn't! How could you? It wasn't you who was breaking into my room uninvited, waking me up! You knew what you could ask about and what was better left unsaid... You were always so kind to me! You were almost perfect... Why does it hurt so much, Kyle?"

Absolutely convinced those were all thoughts roaming in my head, I was flabbergasted to realize I was talking out loud.

"Calm down, please! Calm down, I will explain everything!" Alarmed to see me in such distress, he sat down next to me, caressing my face, hair and hands.

Explain. The word brought me back to reality, making me seek his eyes. Abruptly, I sat up in bed and put my hands on his chest, feeling him shudder from my touch.

Those were your kisses and tears on my hand, I thought but said something different:

"They told me you were dead."

Immediately, my memory went racing, searching hectically for the exact verbiage... and finding nothing!

Anxiety prompted me to try again.

"That would be the natural end of me, wouldn't it?" he said bitterly, looking away.

"Yes... You wouldn't have been able to flee! Not from Kristoff you wouldn't!" My anxiety became sheer terror as I realized no one had ever spelled it out directly that he was dead!

There were my feelings, suspicions, Moira's evasive answers, the entire logic of what had transpired... That was all there was. Oh, no... My breathing became labored.

"But you managed to escape!"

He was immediately sorry he had said that, seeing the terrible dawn of understanding in my eyes. My breathing became more and more rapid, and in a second or two I fell back onto my pillow, completely exhausted.

"Kyle, I... I was sure..." I squeezed out before it all came to a complete halt. Everything went dark, and I was gasping for breath.

I felt my head being lifted, and then something cold touched my lips.

"Shhh, I know, I know. Calm down Diana. Drink this."

Obediently, I kept drinking until I finally felt I had had enough. What I wanted most now was to escape back into my dreams--just close my eyes and forget everything that had been said. Still, I was not going to afford myself that luxury without getting answers to some very important questions.

"But how did you manage to escape? Didn't they immediately suspect you when I disappeared?"

He sighed and began explaining--carefully, patiently, as if to a small child.

"Well, I was getting ready to flee at the same time with you, Diana. Don't you remember what we decided? Once the guards took off from the estate, I realized you had managed to pull it off. Unlike them, I knew that if Kristoff himself lost track of you, they had no chance at all. He summoned them out of sheer desperation. And I sure didn't miss my chance!" Kyle chuckled slightly. "As far as I know, very soon that army of snitches split in two: one half was looking for you, the other for me."

How would he know all that?

"But Jenob...?"

"He was away. Planning his work at the laboratory, he told me himself he was going to be away that day. That's why I picked that particular day to escape! All I had to do was wait for the right moment, since in the absence of any special instructions the guards never prevented me from leaving. I was a voluntary employee, remember? When Kristoff finally gave the order, it was too late. He never even thought I could be dangerous!" An unfamiliar hard grin made his face almost unrecognizable.

"Didn't Moira suspect anything? Seeing that you were leaving so early..."

The grin went off his face.

"Moira..."

Kyle took his eyes away and sighed deeply, shaking his head, as if confirming his worst fears.

"You know, Diana," he looked back at me. "I'm not going to hide anything from you. But this is just the beginning of a long conversation. You are still way too weak. I will tell you everything one of these days, maybe even tomorrow when you've had a chance to digest the information you already have." His tender hand caressed my hair. "For the time being, please take my word for it that Moira didn't succeed in stopping me."

How could that even be possible? Didn't succeed?!

But my strength was indeed all gone, though there was still a long line of questions waiting for their turn. Giving my lips, suddenly dry with anxiety, a good lick, I fired away one of those questions picked at random.

"You never did find me, did you?"

A tortured grimace distorted his face and he gave my hand an unconscious hard squeeze.

"I was sure I was going to be the first to find you and that I'd be able to hide you so that Kristoff would never manage to get to you. I have my ways, believe me. But he found you first. I almost lost my mind when I realized it! He beat me to it just by a few days, Diana..."

"I saw you in my dreams," I interrupted, a smile playing on my face as I recalled the nondescript little town I had lived in for all eternity.

It was such a pity Kyle was late. I could have been happy with him. It would have just been a different kind of happy.

"I saw you, too. Every night." His fingers stroked my cheek and his eyes made it perfectly clear how much I meant to him, what a great effort he made to save me, and how long he had waited for this minute. There were quite a lot of other things in them, too.

But it was too early for that.

"How did you learn that I--?"

"That you needed help? I have a mole in the house, and she told me." Suddenly, there was a strange guilty look on his face. "But you see, Diana, I couldn't come earlier! I didn't know you were in danger. I couldn't even imagine he would dare do something like this!" For some reason Kyle's explanation was looking more and more like a bunch of excuses.

A mole? I tried and couldn't imagine who of the terribly intimidated wrecks among the servants would dare risk the rest of her wretched life to save mine. Could she have any other reasons?

"But the place has guards everywhere! How could you possibly get me out?"

A broad smile shined on his face.

"Oh, that's the best part of it all! When I was frantically looking for a way to get you out of there, I discovered I had unexpected allies in the enemy camp. I had help."

My mind stumbled at that phrase, which sounded strangely familiar and discombobulating. Yet, there was nothing in it for me to grab at.

"Moira..." he shook his head, as if still refusing to believe it. "Watching your friendship develop, I often thought that for Moira it was no more than a sport, something to jazz up her fairly monotonous life. But I was wrong, she was really prepared to fight for you! We basically bumped into each other: I was looking for a way into the house, and she wanted a way out, and we both used the same person--my mole. I would never have thought we'd ever want the same thing, whatever that thing might be!"

I had a momentary flashback of Moira's cautious look when I asked her about Kyle upon my return. What happened between those two?

"But when Kristoff threatened to kill you, that threat alone made us help each other," he finished in a totally different tone of voice--somberly clear and unambiguous as to what he had in mind. "He will pay for everything, Diana! I give you my word. For taking you away from me, for every wound on your body! He will pay with his life!"

With his life?

Unexpectedly, I caught myself wishing Kyle would take his words back. Right away.

How stupid of me! After everything Kristoff had done, he deserved to be punished. To be sure, I had to wish him dead. So why did I--?

Kyle interrupted the train of my thoughts:

"Oh, yes, Moira wanted me to tell you she wished you happiness and hoped the two of you would never see each other again. Only then would you be free and happy."

I could agree with the first thought, but the second... I nodded anyway.

I now had all the answers I was looking for, but the strange feeling that something may have escaped my attention prevented me from becoming completely relaxed. Something was out of place... something was off... wrong...

I realized I needed time.

"Kyle, I am so tired... So much emotion, so little strength. Could I... Could I rest a while?"

"Yes, of course," he started. Then he covered me with a blanket and stroked my hair, as if accidentally, his hand trembling. Then he added the obvious, "I'll do anything to make you happy!"

I knew that but, I was not at all sure I wanted to be happy.

Relieved, I closed my eyes, but it only made me feel worse and I wondered if I'd wake up at all. But then I decided it didn't really matter and finally fell asleep.

How good it would be if I saw that stormy ocean again, beckoning me to the horizon and the freedom beyond…

But what I saw was Kristoff! It was his hands that burned me with his tenderness. It was his eyes that burned with desire.

Oh, damn!

 

** ** **

When I awoke, it was already the morning of the next day. My memories were so impossible that it seemed that particular awakening was the only real one. However, the chaos in my head failed to obscure the main point. Having had sufficient rest, my brain confirmed that Kyle was alive.

Barely had I started tossing and turning in bed that there was a knock on the door. Ignoring the pain that was lurking inside, my lips spread into a smile. Did he really spend the entire night waiting behind that door?

"You asleep, Diana?"

"No, come on in."

He stopped in the doorway, some kind of a parcel rustling in his hands.

"I brought you some clothes. Something to eat, too."

The words alone made my stomach grumble.

"Thanks, I'm starving."

Pushing a cart in front of him, Kyle came in and put the package on the rocking chair by the window. The room was immediately filled with new smells: the appetizing-looking breakfast and an unfamiliar pale blue flower in a vase.

Having lingered for a few moments, Kyle said, "Oh, all right, I am not going to bug you any longer," and left me to my devices.

I sighed with relief, got up and headed to the bathroom.

Naturally, I understood that he was taking care of me as if I were a child, and that he nursed me while I was getting better, gave me baths and changed my bedding. Yet, grateful as I was, I could not but feel a certain degree of embarrassment in his presence.

There was a time we were intimate. I knew he loved me, and I used to love him, too. Almost... But how could I possibly explain to him that all that was two lifetimes ago? That having gone through fire and brimstone I changed, and nothing was ever going to shine for me as brightly as...

I growled and punched the wall as hard as I could, smashing my knuckles and drawing blood.

There was no one to stop my hand.

Gritting my teeth, I looked in the mirror and froze, flabbergasted. A stranger was looking back at me. Having taken a long time to heal, I lost a lot of weight. My features became more pronounced, my sensual lips contracted to form an unfamiliar bitter line. But on top of it all, someone else's eyes on my face radiated unlimited cold power.

 

The place where Kyle hid me wasn't like any other. While I was coming around and getting used to my new life, that aspect helped quite a bit, as the house with its unusual looks provided a much needed distraction, preventing me from sliding back into my past.

The entire place was hidden inside a bluff over the ocean, with only its large windows remaining open to the world. Some of them opened onto terraces like the one where Kyle had found me standing on the edge. There was a lot of room, quite enough not to feel claustrophobic, yet at the same time the house seemed warm, cozy and well-lived in.

One could only enter from the oceanward side, where the horseshoe-shaped cliff hugged the secluded inlet. Once you pulled up the barely visible stairs using a special mechanism, the house became pretty much inaccessible. I did not yet know if by water was the only way to the cliff or whether there was also an overland road. Nor did I know if we were on the mainland or on an island--not because Kyle was hiding something from me, but because I was simply loath to ask. There was also the issue of why a regular person needed such a secluded house, well protected from accidental intrusion, let alone how a scientist, even a very successful one, could afford such an expensive construction project that this humble abode, jam-packed with all kinds of modern equipment, must have surely been. Nor did I have any idea of how exactly Moira had failed to prevent him from leaving, nor of a whole bunch of other things.

No questions!

I used my chance to escape from reality.

The two of us were alone here, and the house was permeated with an almost palpable silence that at that moment I needed more than anything else. Open windows let in the peace of the calm seas, interrupted only by the shrieks of the seagulls baking in the hot afternoon sun, the rhythmic hum of the surf prodded by a light breeze, the roar of the storm, eager to crush the bottom of the cliff that gave us shelter...

It was all silence though.

For the first few days, I did not feel like talking. From time to time, I would catch Kyle's apprehensive look following me, though always accompanied by a warm smile when our eyes met. I could remain silent with him for as long as I wanted, without losing his trust. He understood me better than anyone.

Limiting myself to a few sentences and a guilty smile, I would come out onto the bluff and spend most of the day there, looking into the endless expanse. Kyle never tried to talk me out of it or insist on making me company. If he was ever afraid I was going to suffer a sudden mental aberration, I never knew it. He fought his fears alone. Meeting me in the kitchen, he radiated quiet benevolence, as if standing on the edge of a precipice all day long was a perfectly regular thing to do.

Little by little, the sight of the ocean, whether glassy smooth, hissing or bursting with rage, had its healing effect on me. With each new day, coming back into the house, I felt more and more like myself.

Yet, no matter how much I wanted to freeze time, enjoying the silence, I understood it could not go on like that forever.

The time to ask questions had come.

 

** ** **

A week after I came to and almost three weeks after Kyle had brought me to his house, the world turned yet another of its facets to me.

"I would love to be able to tell you, Diana, that I could offer you a peaceful, happy life..." Kyle began, somewhat gloomily.

It was morning, and after breakfast we took our coffee to my most favorite terrace.

"I can pretty much guarantee you the happy part, or at least I will do everything in my power to make it happen, and you know I will. As to peace, I am afraid you won't have much of that with me."

He paused, taking his eyes away so that I wouldn't see the doom in them. Still, the lack of peace didn't strike me as something unusual and I smiled, encouraging him to continue.

"As you may have already guessed, scientific research is not my primary occupation. It's more of a cover. To be sure, I have a very solid grasp of chemistry and made a number of interesting developments that help me in my main line of business."

After a pause, having finally summoned his courage, it seemed, he spelled it out:

"I am a hunter."

I only raised my brow to that, waiting for an explanation. Naturally, hunting was very dangerous, but still not to the point where it would require such a longwinded and abstract introduction. And what did chemistry have to do with it?

Kyle understood and only nodded before proceeding to explain:

"I hunt the likes of Kristoff."

"What?!" I didn't believe I heard him right.

"I kill those like him, Diana. You got that right."

As my eyes opened wide with amazement, I took a spasmodic breath. Not even in a bad dream could I imagine that kind of a hunt!

"But Kyle... How can it be? It's... it's them who are hunting us! It would be like a child attacking a... a tiger with his bare hands!" At that point, my raspy breathing stopped altogether as a spasm of sharp pain stabbed me through the heart.

"Easy, easy!" Oblivious to what may have caused such a grimace of pain on my face, he put his arm around me and began stroking my hair. "Some child I would be all right! And, no, it's not just bare hands, even though, let me tell you, in my case hands are quite a powerful weapon, too."

As I kept staring at him with my crazed eyes, he went on to explain.

Even though most people remained blissfully unaware of who ruled the world, there were still some who by dint of their personal circumstances came to know the truth and realized the true arrangement of power. Case in point, the Snowe family...

However, not everyone submits quietly. Amazing as it might be, some decide to take up a struggle that would appear to be doomed from the get-go. Yet, if they turn to a hunter for help, their chances go up dramatically.

"Living in Kristoff's mansion, I am sure you've noticed that, strong personalities that they are, they even talk to each other through their teeth. In their society, you are supposed to handle your problems on your own. It plays into our hands, since it's much easier to kill a lone wolf."

Mesmerized, I kept listening and tried to imagine what would have become of me had my family decided to take the risk and fight back. Well, I may have turned out to be a regular human...

Apparently, it was the vacant stare in my eyes that prompted Kyle to ask what I was thinking about. When I told him, he only shook his head.

"No, Diana, no one would have undertaken to save you! And it's not just their power, money and abilities. There is a reason their family is at the top of the hierarchy. Kristoff is simply too strong! You see, these monsters get stronger as they age, and he is one of the oldest."

I barely managed to restrain myself from asking how old he was indeed. The memory of how happy I was at the time I was preoccupied with that issue made me bite my tongue out of pure spite. The taste of blood in my mouth sobered me up.

However, it was as if Kyle could hear my thoughts, because he continued.

"No one knows exactly how old he is, or any of the others. They don't ordinarily discuss the issue--why reveal the balance of power?"

I remembered how Kristoff always tried to avoid the topic.

"And humans are the last they would share this information with. What hunters know has been accumulated bit by bit from legends, family stories and shared experience..."

There were very few hunters out there--under a hundred in all, and they have all met each other in person. However, even though assisting each other and sharing information and resources promotes survival in the world ruled by a strong superhuman enemy, most of them lived and worked alone, turning to their colleagues for help only as a measure of last resort and thus protecting the others from destruction. There was also certain information that hunters protected even from each other--such as the location of their home base, their families, special abilities, etc.

"Why?"

That was something Kyle seemed to be in no particular hurry to talk about.

"How about we talk about that later?"

I nodded.

"My father was a hunter, as was my grandfather and countless generations of our ancestors before them, so you could say I took over the family business," Kyle chuckled ironically. "This house was built by my ancestors, I only upgraded it a little. The location is particularly great since the wind blows all the smells into the ocean. As I am sure you know, that is the most important thing for us.

"However, it is not only the family tradition that makes one a hunter. It isn't enough to simply want to become one and be a daredevil. You need special abilities, since regular weapons are practically useless for our special kind of hunting.

"This is where modern technologies gave us a leg up, in particular, chemistry." Turning away from the ocean, Kyle looked at me, smiling.

"Oh, that potion of yours that alters smells!"

If not for that "perfume," I wouldn't have been able to evade Kristoff and Adamas. God damn them both!

"Oh, that one is a real hit with my colleagues!" Kyle laughed. "I use it all the time myself. And so should you, Diana." As he finished, the smile disappeared from his face.

I nodded. The last thing I wanted was Kristoff showing up here to torment me with his apologies. And then returning me back to my place--by his side.

Never! I clenched my teeth in a bout of sudden anger.

Then, jerking my head once to brush off my bitter thoughts, I asked:

"You mentioned some special abilities?"

Kyle's face lit with smug contentment and he held his hands out to me.

"Every hunter is different. In my family, men have long been able to generate bioelectric pulses that paralyze our enemies. Remember the bare hands?" he gave me a wicked look.

Incredulous, I stared at the palms of his hands and then carefully touched them with my finger, eliciting roaring laughter from Kyle.

"Diana," he kept shaking his head, still laughing. "You are a human being. What are you afraid of? It is totally safe for humans. Basically, you can't even feel it." He took my face in his hands, as if to demonstrate how innocent they were. A long pause ensued...

A clumsy smile on my face, I wiggled out and he continued as if nothing had happened.

"Besides, to generate a pulse you need to make an effort... No, not a mental one. To be honest with you, I am not quite sure myself how exactly I do it. But it doesn't matter, does it? What matters is that it works."

"So you can kill them with a mere touch?"

I couldn't take my incredulous eyes off his hands. They just seemed too ordinary. He used them to touch me so many times, and I never felt any "zaps." On the other hand, I was different from Kristoff.

"Only the low graders and it doesn't work every time even with those," Kyle admitted. He was no longer bragging. "The rest of them I can only paralyze, to this or that extent."

So that's what happened between Moira and him! He zapped her! As I tried to imagine her surprise, I did not know whether to laugh or feel horrified, because the rage that just had to replace her sheer amazement must have been truly monumental.

All of a sudden, I realized how much I missed her. Indeed, I did not have anyone closer than Moira in the entire world.

As for Kyle, he suddenly revealed a strange side I was not aware of--cold, hard, calculating. Steely notes rang in his voice:

"I wish it were as surefire as one in the head with the humans."

Giving an exasperated sigh, he continued:

"In any case, it is much easier to deal with them when they are paralyzed."

"And?"

"And then I use the strongest weapon hunters have in their arsenal. There's a special liquid you pour down their throats that corrodes their flesh like acid. If it gets on the skin, you can wipe it off, but when ingested..."

Only when he paused did I notice my entire body was trembling.

"You know there is such a liquid, don't you?" For a moment, his impenetrable stare reminded me of the clinical interest in Kristoff's eyes as he watched me bleed.

Of course he knew that I knew. That "liquid" left such lasting marks on the face of the one I--

I clenched my teeth and nodded.

"Amongst ourselves, we call it firewater." He gave me a forced smile, as if apologizing for such a clumsy name. "You can write it off to ancient professional lore. Firewater was the main reason that made me hire myself out to Kristoff under the guise of a researcher. The lakes are so well guarded that you can only get access to them from the inside, as a member of the household. From time to time every hunter faces the issue of firewater supply, and everyone solves it as they see fit: through bribery, blackmail or dare alone, simply putting their lives on the line."

It was the first time Kyle ventured on a resupply operation, having exhausted the stock laid down by his father.

"It was great luck--getting access to not just any high caste house, but the house of mighty Kristoff himself!" Kyle's eyes shone with true enthusiasm. "They were looking for a talented chemist, and I used all my connections and resources to create a new persona, cover story and documents. I even spent a few years actually doing research at a university. And they bought it! Now imagine my surprise when I learned that the program I was going to join sought to heal Moira. In the regular course, none of them are seriously sick and I became very interested, eager even to learn something new about their physiology that I could then use against them."

His excited speech over, he looked me in the eye:

"And then I saw you..."

I smiled back, recalling the days of sheer horror that left me oblivious to Kyle or anything else around, for that matter.

"You came to the laboratory wearing gray servant's garb, pale with fear and anxiety, yet still creating the impression you were a queen deigning to come visit her servants. Even unconscious, you were so unbelievably beautiful! You still are..." His voice faltered and I caught a glimpse of his hands jerking, as if eager to reach out to me.

Feeling myself blush, I frowned and turned away to face the ocean, unwilling to switch our relationship to a different wave. It was still too early for that.

"It's not that I was going to lock horns with Kristoff. In his house, with so many guards around, that would be suicide," Kyle continued, regaining his self-control. "But I couldn't just give you up either--scared and credulous as you were. Anyone but that monster! There isn't a trace of humanity in him, Diana!"

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw him looking into my face, his voice becoming ever more commanding, suggesting, persuasive.

"You are just a toy for him! He had his way with you and discarded you!"

Even though I heard Kristoff himself say it, even though he did treat me as a toy that didn't live up to his expectations, it cost me an enormous amount of effort not to scream, "That's not true! He loved me!"

And so I replied, somewhat rudely perhaps, to change the topic:

"What about money? What do you live on?"

He smiled, as if expecting my reaction, and said, totally unperturbed:

"I am all set for money. Our services are very expensive. Even though equipment and the need to cover my tracks make a large dent in my earnings and orders are few and far between, there's still enough left."

"So those who can't pay cannot avail themselves of your services?" I just couldn't keep from kicking him where it hurt for those words of his that made my heart bleed.

Yet Kyle responded in his usual calm manner:

"Sometimes we take information in lieu of payment. We need sources in the enemy camp."

Sources...

"So who helped you in Kristoff's house?"

"Mika."

I stared at him as if for the first time. If I had to name someone who hated me more than others, I'd be certain to point at her!

"She owes you for something?"

"No, she just sympathized with you and wanted to help you escape from the monster while you were still alive."

That made no sense whatsoever. Anything but sympathy from that one.

Suddenly, recalling Mika's words that were dripping with poisonous envy, I realized what the reason for her unexpected help was and smiled. Silly girl! Was she even still alive or had she chanced upon Kristoff's fury after I disappeared again?

Yet Kyle distracted me from my reflections on the different motives of people sharing a goal.

"So what do you say, Diana?" He wouldn't take his tense stare off of me.

"If you are asking about your lifestyle, this is hardly something that would shock me."

Indeed, could anything at all surprise me after what I had lived through?

But apparently that was not the answer he expected of me. Jerking his head impatiently, Kyle set about to give me the pitch with great gusto:

"Please understand that no one else will be able to protect you from him better than I! You will be safe with me. This is what I do. It is in my blood."

I nodded my agreement.

"Here, away from it all, we will be happy together!"

I nodded again and finally gave him the answer he was so eager to hear:

"I hope you are right, Kyle. I really, really hope so."

 

** ** **

Freedom--that's what made me almost happy.

Drop by drop, the ocean was filling my shrunken veins with freedom. Even the place itself was a great epitome of liberty: cliffs, the expanse of water ahead, endless sky and not a soul for miles and miles around.

A day came when Kyle had to leave. I never asked him where and why. I only thought that if he wanted to tell me, he would have done so himself.

He never locked any doors or windows or tried to handcuff me to the bed. He just gave me an apologetic smile and asked:

"Please be careful, all right?"

"I will," I nodded, smiling back. "You too..."

That felt good.

He would only leave occasionally, sometimes for a few days and sometimes for just a few hours, with the car literally sagging under the weight of food when he came back. I simply laughed while helping him lug countless bags of fruit and vegetables into the kitchen.

"There's just the two of us here!"

Blushing with pleasure, Kyle would retort:

"The doctor said feed'er well!"

Some ten days after I woke up, the doctor came to check up on me. I was almost sure I'd see the same tidy old man who even through the haze of my delirium impressed me so with his extravagant curses, but it turned out to be someone else altogether. However, as soon as he started speaking I recognized the voice that was wondering about my health the first time I came to.

After a physical, answering his questions about how I felt, I complained about general fatigue, stiff muscles and joints and a whiff of depression. A learned air about him, he nodded, told me to spend more time outside and recommended I take up swimming. Yet, out of the corners of my eyes, I caught puzzled looks and mysterious winks he exchanged with Kyle behind my back.

"What is it with him?" I asked as soon as the man left.

"Nothing, Diana," Kyle chuckled. "It's just that you are making a very speedy recovery. He expected to see you still in bed."

There were hardly any marks left on my body, except for thin pink scars where cuts used to be and a few yellowish spots from the worst of my bruises. Bouts of weakness would come and go as they pleased, putting me to bed at the most inopportune of moments and then receding just as quickly. It was still difficult to raise my left arm high, and my left knee hurt when I bent my leg, but I felt that if I didn't tire them out too much it would all go away soon.

Unfortunately, the scars left in my soul were much deeper.

If at daytime I could still control my thoughts, resisting any attempts by my consciousness to drag me into the quagmire of memories, there was precious little I could do about my dreams. That's when my past, grinning viciously, took revenge. Time and again, I was being dragged, leaving behind a trail of blood. Every sharp corner left a mark on my body, every pair of eyes on the way gloated with vindictive pleasure and monstrously distorted features swam up close, laughing, "It looks like I overdid it a little!"

I would wake up in the dark, screaming, covered with sweat and tears.

Yet some dreams were even worse, and I'd get to hear the low growl in my ear, clamped down with a sharp fang, "Dia-a-a-na!" Then there would be no escaping the fire. The world became him--his body, his hands, his eyes... Forever!

On such occasions, I'd wake up to moans of pleasure, enveloped in his smell, his taste in my mouth...

On such nights, I'd go down to the ocean before dawn.

 

Once, when Kyle asked me what he could bring me from yet another one of his trips, I asked for a wooden cup. It turned out to be very much like the one in the sleepy little town that I never did have a chance to make my own. Cradling it in my hands, I met every morning on the edge of the cliff looking into the gray sky that at some point became one with the steely waters. The wind played with my hair as my face basked in the aroma of hot coffee and I kept telling myself that the world only had Kyle's house in it, and the ocean, and the cliff above it. There was nothing else at all...

When I made breakfast for the first time, Kyle was so happy I didn't know where to hide from his gratitude, which seemed excessive by any measure. I even had to threaten to never set foot in the kitchen again in the next hundred years or so. Still, little by little, he got used to the sight of me cooking.

During the time I spent in that secret town of mine, I learned to cook fairly well, and now I was happy to not only have something to do with my time, but also to help out, if only a little, with everyday household chores.

On occasion though, turning abruptly to get a knife or a plate, I would catch Kyle's happy warm smile.

To overcome the stiffness still lingering in my body after my injuries, I began climbing the rocks surrounding the terrace. I had never tried anything like it before, but once I got the first taste of it I wanted more right away. My muscles and tendons contracted smoothly, producing a kind of music that resonated with the rocks and the wind, drowning out the pain I had inside of me. Slowly but ever more confidently, I moved from one ledge to another, feeling my body regain its old strength and agility.

Sometimes I noticed Kyle watching me out of the window, apparently worried sick. Still, seeing that I never ventured more than a few yards up, he never said anything.

He was easy to be with.

Despite the age difference of almost ten years, I never felt like I was nothing compared to him, as the difference between us was human. On the contrary, I discovered something new and fairly unfamiliar--the feeling of equality.

Listening to him with great interest, I found things to say back and sometimes even managed to surprise him telling him something he didn't know. Two years of incessant reading finally bore fruit.

"You changed a lot, Diana," Kyle remarked once and immediately began explaining himself, "No, I don't mean your looks. You are as beautiful as ever! You are even--"

"Oh, quit it!" I laughed back. "To be honest with you, I find it a total mystery how you could find me interesting the first time we met."

"Find..." he dragged, pensively. "It's not that I was even looking! But then you simply came crashing down on me--your eyes, voice, breath, all of you--leaving me no choice."

But I was already telling him excitedly about an ancient mathematician, whose life story, preserved in my memory, came in quite handy at the moment...

At the end of the day, when the sun was about to extinguish its red hot ridge in the water, we would get a bottle of wine and glasses and go down to the surf line. Tireless as a puppy, I would keep running away from the waves and Kyle would watch me and laugh. More often than not, my wet clothes offered ample proof that the ocean was winning. It seemed I would never get tired of anything ocean-related. I could spend hours sorting out shells and colorful pebbles, using them to create short-lived beach art bound to be washed away by the next storm up.

"You need to learn how to swim," Kyle would say and smile, lit up by the gold of the sunset.

"Not in a million years!" I responded, also laughing. "If I do, I'll never get out of the water, and then turn into a fish and swim away, all the way there..." Pointing into the distance, facing the ocean, I now screamed at the top of my lungs. "And I will live forever!"

And our laughter became one with the hissing of the waves...

 

** ** **

"What's the matter, Kyle?"

For the second day in a row, he was uncharacteristically pensive and quiet and barely heard me when I tried talking to him. It was all the more strange since his usual keen attention to me, my words, moods and feelings sometimes seemed to border on morbid obsession.

But today, having come back from one of his short trips, he locked himself in his office and only emerged from there before the sunset. Even during our regular evening walk, he was uncharacteristically silent, hardly laughing at all at my silly jumps in the surf.

Now, at breakfast, when he thought I could not see him, Kyle poured so much cognac into his coffee that the liquid became transparent. Still, judging by the look on his face, he didn't think it was enough.

"So, what's wrong?"

For the first time that endless morning, he turned away from the window and looked at me.

"You are so dazzling, Diana…"

I felt his warm look on my skin and blushed. Kyle continued, as if it actually answering my question:

"You are so beautiful right now... No, don't move! The way the sun shines through your tangled hair... It's like a crown of the sun's rays. You are a princess, beautiful... and vulnerable."

To take the edge off the situation, I was about to quip that his morning cognac didn't do him any good since it made him sentimental, yet the sincerity of his voice stopped me before I could spoil the moment. Smiling back to acknowledge the compliment, I returned to my original question.

"You know, Kyle, my entire life, for as long as I can remember, was a lie. How about you stop hiding things from me?" Insistently, I looked him in the eye.

He sighed, frowned and turned away to the window again.

"I have a job."

"Well... isn't that good? You told me yourself you don't get too many orders."

"Yes, but this one is so far away! I just don't understand. There are local hunters there, but these folks want me. They say they want the best." Despite all his effort to sound indifferent, a smug note in his voice couldn't be missed.

"How far away, Kyle?"

He frowned again.

"Almost the other end of the globe. Of course, you can never know exactly, but the trip may take a couple of weeks, maybe even a month." Visibly upset, he shook his head and sighed. "Too far away, and too long!"

I felt he wanted to take that order. It wasn't just money, it seemed. The way his voice wavered when he said "best" indicated that professional pride was not the last of his motivations. Indeed, it was his calling, his family business! Why did he need to turn it down? Because of me?

"I will go with you."

The fiery tirade that followed failed to scare me--I expected it and, having weathered the storm, set about changing his mind, step by step, an inch at a time.

"It's not that I am afraid to stay here alone. I have grown to enjoy being alone lately, and I only care for your company and no one else's. But it's one thing when you are somewhere near and something totally different not being able to see you for an entire month. I will miss you, Kyle."

Trying not to notice the way he looked at me, I continued:

"Besides, you shouldn't refuse work because of me. If you start losing customers, what are we going to live on?"

Kyle wouldn't take his hungry eyes off of me.

"Please, take me with you!"

Finally, with a smile and a sigh, he gave up.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you? All right, let's go together."

 

During the entire long journey, he never left me alone for a moment. While on the plane, he watched me like a hawk, and my hand was always in his. But there was nothing proprietary about it. His fingers caressed my wrist lightly, then locked with my own, only leaving them to stroke my cheekbone, my cheek or my neck. He was already missing me.

It was then that I realized that I did not find his touches, as intimate as they were, to be a nuisance. Suddenly I wanted to grab him and hold him close and never let go. I thought that I would indeed miss him, too, and smiled happily.

 

Spending half a day in the car wore me out more than I could expect, and as the almost forgotten fatigue came over me I dosed off for some two hours, bobbing and weaving rhythmically on the potholed road.

I woke up to the feeling of someone touching my cheek.

"We are here, Diana."

My eyesight still fuzzy with sleep, I saw Kyle's smiling face against the background of... mountain peaks!

Holding on to him, I got out and looked around.

A chain of assorted mountain peaks, blue against the darkening sky, ran around a cozy valley. A few houses on the hills--at the feet of sleeping giants--were surrounded with lush gardens and well-tended fields.

The house we had come to stood apart from the rest, at the very entrance to the valley. Its solid foundation sank its teeth into the steep slope, preventing the structure from sliding down, and its ancient walls of natural stone seemed to be growing out of the rocky innards of the cliff, adorned with a carpet of greenery.

"A luxury condo it isn't, but at least there's little chance of being followed here, unlike in big cities." Kyle avoided my eyes and continued in an apologetic tone of voice, "The house has been maintained well, but you must understand--"

"Kyle," I interrupted him. "It's wonderful."

He looked me in the eye:

"You are used to something different."

I nodded.

"I sure am, including slave labor, exiling myself to the middle of nowhere, beatings and whatnot! I have no intention of putting on airs for you, Kyle. If I say I like it, it means I like it."

I drew in a full lungful of the intoxicating mountain air and looked around, smiling.

Indeed, I liked the place very much.

 

** ** **

While we were unloading a week and a half worth of provisions, Kyle was grumbling that there wasn't going to be enough food. He seemed awfully worried. According to his plan, he was going to come back in some three or four days. A week after that, he'd make the second trip. The first time he would just reconnoiter the scene and then do the actual job the second time around.

"Thank you for taking me with you."

We were sitting in the dark, listening to the chirping, warbling and singing of a myriad of insects that called the surrounding shrubbery home. Silver stars blinked in the velvety sky as we drank our wine.

"You are welcome."

Though I could not see Kyle's face, I knew he was smiling.

"Don't you worry, Diana. I'll be back in no time and we'll... we'll be together again."

As much as I could, I tried not to think about where Kyle was going, and why.

From the day when he let me in on the secret of his professional occupation and until now, the inconceivable truth of how he made his living had been a fairly abstract matter for me. Even when he went on his trips for reasons apparently different from food shopping, I could not make myself think about it seriously. It was impossible to believe that a human, even a human endowed with special abilities, would dare attack someone for whom he himself would be easy prey.

I was probably uniquely positioned to realize how insurmountably large the difference in power, speed and reaction was...

It was like pitting a child against a tiger.

Yet reality now forced me to face the truth: in the morning, he was going hunting.

"Kyle..." a lump formed in my throat, making talk difficult. "Tell me, how can you not be afraid?"

"Afraid? Of what?"

The childish braggadocio in his voice ("Only girls are afraid, we boys are fearless!") was apparent.

The lump in my throat grew larger.

A baby against a tiger...

"Revenge, for example."

"Oh, that... I guess there is some risk of that," he admitted, smiling.

Some.

With a deep sigh, I looked down. Some things just couldn't be changed.

Intuitively, as he always did, he discerned the reason for my gloom and without me even asking him anything, suddenly began talking, apparently in an effort to take my mind off its sad preoccupation with the affair.

"I am sure you must have noticed that they have a certain hierarchy. It goes deeper than mere superiority in power and experience. In addition to those you have seen, there is another subspecies of low graders. They look way too different from humans, which prevents them from living freely among the people. Primitive and looking more like animals, they are used for all kinds of dirty jobs that even "reduced" abilities are good enough for." He was speaking in a calm, unrestrained manner, as if about some species of fish populating the world's oceans.

Of course I had seen those, too--and others that, in all likelihood, were not even remotely related to Kristoff. Yet, I had no desire whatsoever to let Kyle in on the details of my first, unsuccessful attempt at escaping and the horror inflicted upon me as punishment.

"As I told you before, the disparity among the higher caste is huge and primarily predicated on age. Most of the young ones live very much like people. They go to work, eat the same food that we do and get to consume blood only on rare occasions. They buy things and even start families and make friends." A sarcastic note in Kyle's voice left no doubt as to what he thought of the sustainability of such relationships. "But as I am sure you could guess, those don't last forever."

"I spent quite some time thinking why they do it. After all, their outward appearance doesn't give them away, they look way too much like us. I think they use those close contacts to study their victims in detail, hone their hunting skills and learn how to 'become one with the land.' However, as their need for human blood and their power grow, they withdraw from society more and more, almost always preferring solitude and only occasionally socializing with their own kind."

I tried to imagine what that strange young adulthood might look like: secret, repeating itself over and over again, greatly exceeding the young years of those who were "lucky" to become their temporary partners or friends. I tried to imagine Kristoff that way--clumsy, inexperienced... weak.

And just couldn't.

"Centuries, and, quite possibly, millennia pass before they reach the kind of power that those you know have. Before that happens, they are relegated to snatching crumbs of the world from their senior brethren."

"And the seniors let them?"

"Of course not! But even their endless lives sometimes come to an end. Just like people, they have their deadly rivalries, and we hunters also do our modest part." Kyle's voice betrayed a tinge of predatory sarcasm. "Any resulting void is filled by youngsters fighting each other for the tastiest morsel. However, it rarely comes down to an all-out war, since competition is fairly low."

"Why?"

"There are just too few of them--barely enough to replenish the population."

"They don't want to have children?"

"Something like that."

I could tell Kyle was reluctant to discuss that particular topic, and I knew I was right when he asked:

"Aren't you cold? It's getting chilly. Should I get you a blanket?"

Smiling in the dark, I assured him I was not cold and asked him about something else altogether:

"You know about the annual ball, Kyle, right?"

"I sure do. Why?"

"I am just curious, why didn't I notice anything when I was a servant there?"

Recalling the almost palpable though mostly invisible stares by the servants at the ball, I realized their masters' hunt was a part of their twisted lives, too. It was like public executions in the old days: you'd get to watch someone else die, realize that you could find yourself among the condemned at any moment... and rejoice at being just a spectator. For the time being.

Why wasn't I one of them?

I wondered about it quite often, but never dared ask Kristoff. Sparing us both unnecessary pain, I almost never spoke of my first stint in his house. While he...

"You did not know about the ball because I gave you a sleeping pill with your food and you slept through the night," Kyle said after a long pause. "Don't be cross with me. I didn't want you to see it. Their traditions are horrible!"

... Beautiful, too! The amazing grace of movements, the precision of thrusts, the unspeakable beauty of calm faces--tigers at play, innocent in their needs.

Frozen with fear, standing once again on the edge of that forest, I was watching the somber winners approach, dragging their hard-won trophies behind.

Yet, didn't I also feel a kind of reverent admiration along with the fear back then?

"Kyle, are you really hunting those that participate in all that?"

Their superiority over humans made the occupation totally insane. I just couldn't believe it!

Yet Kyle replied without as much as a shade of a doubt:

"Them too, sometimes. And I'll get to Kristoff one day."

"But didn't you say he is the strongest of all? That no one would dare take him on?"

I was telling myself I was simply afraid for Kyle and Kyle alone, trying to disregard the wave of primeval horror rising inside of me at the very idea that Kyle might just succeed in what he had set out to do.

"I'll take him on all right," the answer came, confident and harsh. "I have my own score to settle with him. He will answer for the pain he had caused you!"

His fingers found my hand.

"He will never hurt you again, Diana. That's a promise."

I felt a kiss on my palm.

Even though I already knew I could take him at his word, somehow that only made it worse for me.

"You..." my voice faltered unexpectedly. "Just be careful, all right? I won't survive it if something happened to you!"

It was all true. He brought me back from the dead, breathed new life into me and gave me hope. Without him, all of this newly acquired largesse made no sense!

"Don't worry, it will all be fine!" Kyle put his arm around my shoulders and began rocking me as he would a baby, soothing me with those ageless words. "It will all be fine..."

 

** ** **

In the morning, Kyle left. Watching his car disappear around the bend, I immediately felt out of whack.

Yet, as the bright, sunny day progressed outside, my worries took a step back, and then another, and another. Past noon, I felt well enough to want to explore my new surroundings.

Kyle had no reason whatsoever to apologize for the house, which was pure magic.

For someone like me, who was used to the comforts of modern apartments, the beauty and simplicity of the ancient times became a true revelation. I just couldn't take my eyes off the ornate old wood of which all the furniture in the house, basic that it was, was made. Its velvety dark surfaces made me want to run my fingers over them again and again, without end. The rough walls were whitewashed, and for that reason no humidity was felt in the house that was not only made of stone but also half-buried inside a massive rock. The silky green sod-covered roof sported red poppies.

That fairytale house had a location to match. Enclosed on two sides by steep slopes overgrown with brush, a soft lawn of wild grass stretched in front of the house. A thick row of trees protected it from curious eyes.

It was an ideal place for a picnic.

Grabbing a blanket, a book, a bottle of water and my phone, I headed towards a huge tree that leaned over a section of the lawn, providing ample shade. Walking through the slightly bitter aroma of wild flowers, I caught myself smiling. It wasn't one of those artificial forced smiles I often gave after waking up. I wanted to sing.

Coming closer to the tree, I stopped dead in my tracks: how amazingly beautiful that wind-tortured, gnarly old trunk was! Never before did I think that ugliness could be so beautiful!

As if all of those pleasures were not enough, there was also a small streamlet making its way out from under a pile of red rocks not too far from the old tree and disappearing shortly into the bushes.

I set up camp just inside of the shade cover, on the grassy lace by the stream, and began reading. Yet, after only a few pages the dragging monotony of the plot left me fairly unwilling to go any further. Sticking the book back into my bag I just sat there, enjoying the sight of the flowers swaying in the wind...

Yet simply wobble in synch with the strong gusts they did not! They yearned to flee, leaving their torn roots behind! The cacophony of chirping insects grew louder and louder with every second, finally reaching a truly thunderous level that hurt my ears. My chest heaved, gasping for thick, heavy air.

I was no longer smiling.

There was no need to look far to find the reason of my sudden affliction. Quickly grabbing my things, I headed back to the house.

 

My face barely registered the splash of ice-cold mountain water on it. All of their own accord, my hands slammed the washstand. The pain felt good.

Anyone but you!

"Diana..."

Looking in the mirror, I saw my huge dark eyes, the arrows of my eyelashes glued together with water, the hard line of bloodless pursed lips, the transparent drops rolling down my cheeks and onto my neck... and Kristoff standing behind me.

No! You are just a bad dream!

Keeping my eyes on my own reflection in the mirror, I reached for the towel and began drying my face and hands.

I am just seeing you in a dream!

"Diana..."

No way! I am going to wake up now, and you won't be there!

Turning around, I went right past him, as if the space he occupied was all empty. Out the window, the day looked gray and gloomy. How could I possibly think it was beautiful?

"Diana..."

Bracing myself with my hands, my eyes closed, I swayed back and forth trying to change reality.

You are not there. Not there. Not there...

Without seeing, I suddenly felt his trembling hand reaching out for me, inch by inch. I knew it right away that I would never, ever allow him to touch me!

"Don't you touch me!!!" The sentence that started as but a whimper ended with a bang of a true animal roar.

The possibility that it was all indeed a dream was now smashed to smithereens.

I turned around to look Kristoff in the face--and immediately found myself gasping in pain. His eyes and lips... his battle scars... his scent. My body memory craved for him!

Clenching my teeth, I told it to shut up.

"Diana..."

It appeared he didn't know what to say. It was almost hilarious.

I kept my silence.

"Diana... jealousy drove me nuts... I was blindsided..."

Where was all his confidence now? His usual haughtiness became a thing of the past--apparently left behind at the time and place he had claimed my forgiveness would never be required.

Stumbling at every word, he droned on and on, pouring out an incessant flow of meaningless excuses. With every new sentence, the red rose of my rage sprouted yet another fiery petal.

"Even your clothes smelled of betrayal! I saw it all with my own eyes, how could I not believe it? How could I possibly know it was all an elaborate setup? Not a day, not a second has passed since without me cursing myself! I... I can't live without you! I'll do anything you want, Diana! If you forgive me..."

"Haven't you been saying this a little too often in this past thousand of years? You taking your cues from people now?"

He winced.

"Or is your aging memory not what it used to be? Have you already forgotten the last thing I said to you?" The icy sting of my voice made him paler than ever.

"Forgive me..."

"Do you even know what forgiveness is? It's not just a word. The word itself is easy. What totally escapes me is how I am supposed to keep on living with it! How do I look at your hand and disremember the blows it dealt me? How do I learn not to expect a new one every new day?"

Unconsciously, he put his hand behind his back.

"Forgive you... This is so much like you, Kristoff--unforgiving of others and merciful to your own self. You reign over the world, failing to see any value in people. They belong to you! By the right of the strong, isn't that so? Is that what you thought I was--a thing you owned? The kind that was beneath you?"

"Diana, you are not--"

"Trustworthy? It didn't take you long to learn the truth, but you never deigned to even hear me out!"

"Let me explain how it all happened... how you've been set up! It wasn't just Adamas but also--"

"What difference does it make? Anyone could have set me up!" Going back from the most likely to absolutely impossible, I began the countdown, "Adamas or Jenob, Moira, even Kyle! The only thing that matters is that you didn't believe me!!!"

The moment finally came for me to see an expression of utter shock on his face. It was such a pity I almost had to die for it first!

"Forgive me," his lips whispered woefully, as a condemned man might.

"Not in this life!!!"

You do want him to leave, don't you? whispered the pain inside of me.

I did want it. And my soul was bleeding.

"Diana, my love--"

"Don't you call me your love!!!"

He was taken aback by the fire of hatred in my eyes.

"They don't drag loved ones behind like some inanimate things, slicing and dicing their bodies!!!"

"Diana, I didn't know how much... I wasn't myself..."

I stepped right up to him, looking into his tormented face, trying to find satisfaction in his pain--and couldn't.

"I forgot what kind of a monster you are! But you... you reminded me!"

The following moment, I was all alone in the house.

 

** ** **

I came to when the daylight outside was already fading.

Looking at the blanket I was wrapped in, I tried to remember why I even bothered with it on such a hot summer day. Yet the best I could come up with was some fuzzy recollection of a horrible chill that made me curl up in an uncomfortable armchair that I had somehow wound up in.

Similarly, I could not tell what had happened to time. It seemed that only a moment ago Kristoff's tormented face was filling my conscious mind to capacity, and now here I was, all alone by the darkening window.

Did he really leave?

That seemed to be the most incredible part!

I couldn't believe he'd just leave me alone. That I no longer belonged to him. Did he finally realize that I had the right to chose and made himself respect that choice of mine? Did it mean I would now have a chance to spend the rest of my life as I saw fit, with whom I saw fit? Without having to hide any longer, afraid of even leaving the house to go food shopping? Without having to use the "perfume" when I did leave? And that I wouldn't...

How did he find me? The sudden thought gave me quite a jolt, bringing me out of my drowsy stupor.

Ever since we left the house, I had used Kyle's potion, reapplying it over and over again when it wore out. Besides, way too little time had passed. It took him over two years the previous time!

So how did Kristoff track me down?

As it dawned on me what must have happened, the shock of it squeezed my chest in a tight grip, denying my lungs air, pushing my heartbeat up to the point of an unbearable drumroll, paralyzing my extremities with icy chill...

But of course!

"... I just don't understand. There are local hunters there, but these folks want me..."

I gave a loud moan. Of course! The entire thing was a setup!

They made us somewhere along the way: flight, car rental, etc. It didn't matter where. Now nothing mattered anymore.

They simply lured Kyle out of his lair, calculating that I wouldn't want to stay alone for long and go with him. Then Kristoff would only have to wait until Kyle went away.

What makes you think Kyle did go away? That is, past that bend beyond which you couldn't see his car any longer? asked the cold, rational voice inside of me.

No, no, no! Kristoff wouldn't have done anything of the kind!

Oh, really?!

Shut up! No, no, anything but that!

That would have been a final solution all right! And just his style, too...

Grabbing my head with my both hands, I began wailing quietly.

And to think it was me who had talked Kyle into going!

All my arguments in favor of that idea now seemed like a joke. Missing him? Oh, now I will miss him for sure! I'll learn everything there's to know about missing!

That's because I'll never see him again!

Sudden sharp pain folded me double. What was I going to do without him?

Immediately, I was flooded with memories: his warm look on my face, tender hands aching to touch me yet afraid of imposing on me, his endless care and patience... And trust...

My new life made no sense whatsoever without Kyle. The hope that sometime, years later, I might be able to forget my insane past and get a modicum of regular human happiness died before it was ever quite born.

It would have been better if I had just stayed in that frozen dungeon!

Taking stock of his obvious virtues and eating my heart out about having pushed him to his death, step by step, imperceptibly, I fell asleep, my eyes full of unshed tears.

 

Someone's tender touch on my cheek brought me back from my heavy slumber. I took a sharp breath and grabbed spasmodically at the armrests of my chair, still half asleep but already frozen with fear.

"Don't be afraid, Diana, it's me," a barely audible whisper came into my right ear.

Instinctively, I recoiled, but then a familiar shape moved out of the darkness and into the dim light of the window.

"Kyle!"

Quickly but gently, his hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my happy scream.

"Shhh, quiet! There's guards everywhere, we don't want to be heard and--"

I never let him finish. Feeling for him in the darkness, I drew him close and began covering his face with blind, hectic kisses.

"You are alive... Alive!" whispered my lips in those rare moments they broke away from him.

His body tensed in response to that vehement charge, and his breathing became shallow, tickling my skin.

"Diana..."

Carefully, as if afraid of hurting me, his hands on my body traveled a ways, embracing me, pulling me in. His fingers slipped through my hair and reached the back of my head, drawing me closer to his invisible lips. There may have been plenty of monsters around, and whatever lay ahead of us was covered by a veil of darkness, but at that particular moment we became one in the most tender and sweetest of kisses!

Kyle was alive. Hope was alive.

"We need to get out of here." Still breathing heavily, he kissed my ear. His voice was full of joy. "Let's go!"

Grasping me by the hand, he drew me towards the exit out of the room. We moved slowly and softly, tracing the wall and trying not to make any noise. I could not understand where we were going, but then a closing door creaked slightly behind and a blinding flashlight lit up.

We were in a tiny room crammed with all kinds of old junk. It seemed to be a storage room, but it was so small that I couldn't make out what Kyle, his back in front of me, was doing. Judging by his labored breathing and the bulging muscles on his arms, it wasn't something easy. I was going to ask him what it was all about, but then, with a subdued rustle, a part of the wall slid sideways. I caught a whiff of dampness and chill. Diving under Kyle's arm, with utter amazement I looked into a dark tunnel that seemed to lead deep into the mountain.

"Once, when I was still a child, my father used this house to hide my mother and me," Kyle explained, smiling. "Now it's my turn to use this tunnel. But before we do that..."

Unexpectedly, he drew me close and planted a long, passionate kiss on my lips. When he finally let me go, his hungry eyes still on me, he said:

"I am sorry if that was too much for you. I just don't know if we are coming out of this tunnel alive and..."

I smiled back and nodded. How could I not understand if he understood me so well?

Even if that was indeed a little too much.

 

We stepped into the darkness.

Having put the stone slab behind us back into its place and squeezed a little further into the tunnel, Kyle produced two vials of the potion and handed me one. For a few minutes we concentrated on applying the stuff all over ourselves, inch by inch, and then continued down the narrow path at a brisk pace.

The ceiling was so low that even I had to keep my head down all the time. For Kyle, it went double. The realization that we were under countless tons of stone produced a nagging anxiety, and to take my mind off it I asked him:

"By the way, why did you come back?"

"I barely made it half the way there when Moira, your guardian angel, called." Even from behind his back I could hear him chuckle. "This time she did not only save you but me as well. Had I made it all the way there, I wouldn't have come back. They were waiting for me. So now I owe her double... or is it triple? Who could have thought!" Shaking his head, he laughed quietly.

I smiled.

Kyle himself interrupted my gratuitous mental speculations as to exactly how many of his ancestors had been turning in their graves in the previous few months.

"I was certain I would no longer find you here. Moira said that Kristoff went to pick you up and was hell-bent on doing it no matter what. I rushed back thinking all the way that I was going to be late and he would get to you first, and--"

"He did," I interrupted, feeling my face going numb.

How could I be so stupid? How could I even think he'd suddenly turn into a man of honor and let me live the way I wanted?

Get her no matter what... Guards around the house...

He'd come back all right, there was no two ways about it.

How could I even hope he wouldn't?

Instinctively, Kyle tried to look back but the low, narrow tunnel made that impossible. I thanked fate for that.

"So he's been here? What happened, Diana?" The anxiety in his voice kept growing. "Are you all right? Did he assault you? Hurt you?"

"No, Kyle, nothing like that," even though it did hurt. "We just talked and then he left."

"Then what are you so upset about? I can tell you are!" Once again, he tried to look back at me but failed.

I felt ashamed to admit it openly how naive I had been, but I said it anyway:

"I just hoped he won't be coming back."

 

** ** **

We did come out of that tunnel alive.

No one lay in wait for us at the exit either, and having thanked the unknown builders of the past that must have spent more than one lifetime carving that lifesaving tunnel through the rock, we got into the car that farsighted Kyle had hid among the shrubbery. At first rolling gently down the slope under our own weight, then getting bolder and starting the engine, we were getting further and further away from the fairytale house with poppies on the roof and monsters lying in wait in the dark. At some point I even thought I heard Kristoff's furious roar when he discovered I had escaped again.

But it was probably just my mind playing tricks...

And then we ran.

Using rundown, abandoned back roads, forest trails and barely discernible dirt tracks, across rivers that seemed like mere streams and streams that turned out to be full-fledged rivers, we were stealing our way across one country after another.

Switching from the car to an ancient cargo plane full of some dusty bales, then to another car, and another, and another still, we spent weeks crisscrossing the world's backyards, trying to throw an army of bloodhounds off our track.

I poured so much "perfume" over myself that doing it over and over again, for the fifth or sixth time every night, I would wonder mechanically if my own scent was even there any longer, and if it would ever come back if it wasn't.

It also became progressively more difficult with every new day. In the car, I would spend hours on end watching the endless ribbon of the road melt away under the hood, using my gloomy stare to measure the distance that now separated me from Kristoff. Was it large enough for him to lose track of me? Were those countless miles sufficient for me to forget he ever existed?

I almost longed for the time of my recovery. Now those painful days that replaced tormented nights seemed like an oasis of calm and confidence about the future. In a childlike fashion, I knew back then that all I had to do was wait a little, and it would all be fine. If it was at all possible.

Now that Kristoff was back, doubts were tearing at me from the inside.

I had a morbid feeling that he did not only know where we were, but was actually rather close, lying low, readying his body of steel for a strike. I could almost swear I heard his familiar voice teasing me with a scary rhyme, "We'll jump off the roof of the highest house, and play us a little cat and mouse..."

The worst of it was that I felt like I did want to jump and play with him.

Indeed, I could already be there, in that house of which I now knew every nook and cranny. Jenob would give me a fatherly smile, and Moira, despite her remote farewell, would rush to embrace me and cover me with kisses.

And I would have come home...

There would, of course, be the issue of looking the servants in the eye--those of them that had seen Kristoff drag me mercilessly like a sack, or heard his yells and knew that after a severe pummeling I had been thrown into the underground dungeon down below...

That problem could be easily solved, though--I would only need to say the word to have that entire crop of servants made dog fodder. They'd be immediately replaced by other debtors whose eyes would shine with the kind of respect a VIP such as myself could expect. They'd have fear in those eyes, too, the perfectly understandable fear of the monster.

It was all there for the taking. There was no doubt in my mind it would all be the way I wanted it.

All of it--except my freedom. That, and the guarantee that what had happened to me once wouldn't happen again...

I wondered, how would he go about rebuilding my irreversibly lost trust? What lengths would he go to trying to get closer? What would he do to spark up my desire again? Tease me with those touches again?

Suddenly, my entire inner being gave a wild animal howl, demanding him, tying my body up in a knot of unbearable pain--so tight that I could barely stifle a scream...

Damn, what did I think I was doing?!

 

Thus, as we traveled on, my mind remained totally preoccupied with those speculations of what might have happened had Moira never called Kyle. Or called too late. Every time it all ended the same way, with me feeling like giving myself a bad kick in the gut.

What was all that love of self-flagellation about, anyway?

As always, Kyle understood me, and it only made things worse. I began thinking I was not even worthy of him.

Instead of jealous prying, he gave me the gift of silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Rather than push for an explanation of why I was withdrawing every time he tried to put his arm around me, or making a show of having been offended, he gave me my space. He was surprisingly calm, too, as if he knew it for a fact that, just like everything else, it would all blow over.

I quickly lost track of time--and of myself in the world. Everything turned into one fuzzy gray ribbon rushing by. It seemed we were running in circles, or worse yet, in place. It also seemed that the running would never stop, but then, totally exhausted physically and mentally, we finally reached our secret abode.

Quite possibly, that was what saved me from going mad.

Once we stopped by our cliff, I literally fell out of the car and, a weak smile on my face, dragged myself to the ocean, not quite believing that we had managed to come back. The waves, like loyal dogs that had missed their mistress, rushed to me, happily licking my feet. Without thinking, I waded ahead through the foamy lace until the water was chest-deep. Kyle was yelling something behind, but the wind blew most of his words away, leaving mere endings.

"... ana ... ack ... you ... an't ... im..."

It was all very funny and made no sense, so I just kept going, smiling happily. The ocean did not only wash off the dirt and dust of the road, but also carried away my anxiety and exhaustion, one churning swell at a time.

Then, all of a sudden, I was underwater, disoriented and listless, like a rag in the washer. It happened so fast that even my eyes remained open and, in sheer amazement, I could only watch as shreds of bright green seaweed intertwined with my own freely floating hair, as a small school of semitransparent little fish hovered fearlessly above.

And then someone grabbed me! Intuitively, I began fighting back, trying to wiggle out of that iron grip, but the hands that held me wouldn't budge, not even a little, as if afraid of letting go of their cherished prize.

As a horrible flicker of understanding dawned upon me, I tried to look back and saw Kyle, his face sick with worry. Holding me tight, to the point of hurting me, he was slowly bringing me back to the shore.

The same crystal clear fish darted past and I smiled, following them with my eyes. It was then that I realized there was no more air to breathe.

My body acted out again, trying to break free with renewed vigor. The next moment my head popped above water, my lungs heaving, hungrily drawing in air. Kyle was still holding me tight.

Waist-deep in the water, he was wading toward the shore, his arms still around me, as if afraid I might still drown in these shallow waters.

"What are you doing... Diana... Don't you know you can't swim? Why did you go there... there's underwater pits all around here! You could have drowned!" he kept chiding me, as if I were a little girl.

"No, I couldn't have!" I laughed, cutting short his furious diatribe. For whatever reason, what had just happened now seemed altogether hilarious. "You wouldn't have let me, now would you?"

I put my hands around his neck and kissed his cheek. The storm in his stare subsided, the lines on his forehead relaxed, and the corners of his lips quivered slightly. Smiling, I leaned backward until my hair hit the water, spreading out like a jellyfish.

"No, you wouldn't have let me..." I shook my head, looking up into the swirling sky. My peripheral vision caught a smile blossoming on Kyle's lips.

 

** ** **

Back in my safe haven, I quickly got back to normal. Here, the invisible greedy hands that seemed to have been reaching for me across the entire world appeared to be no more than a feverish fantasy. The calm and quiet of this secluded corner served as a solid barrier that shielded my new life from any infractions from my past.

It came as no surprise that in a few days, having had enough sleep, I became remorseful about the way I treated Kyle. Every time I thought about his selfless devotion, I felt like an ungrateful bitch!

He deserved more than mere gratitude for his help. No one was worthy of my love more than him. I knew it even back when I was nothing more than a disheveled servant girl, and he cared for me, putting his own life and wellbeing at risk.

How much easier it would be if all of this could be resolved by a mere act of will!

 

It rained all day long, and instead of going on our regular walk by the surf line, we took our glasses to the armchairs by the open window. The humid air and the patter of raindrops amplified by the steady swishing of waves resonated with my melancholy.

I felt like I couldn't get enough wine today and had two refills already, disregarding Kyle's arched brow.

What was I going to do?

It was so unfair, to keep him waiting for so long. It made no sense either, since despite all my pain I knew that there was only one kind of a relatively happy future available to me--with Kyle. He was a prize in his own right. And he wanted it, too...

Enough waiting! The sooner I took the plunge, the fewer gray hairs my excruciating doubts would give me.

I was going to take him to bed right now!

I reached for the bottle to give myself a little more courage and bumped into Kyle's hand. The touch made us both recoil, which was quite telling.

Tipsily, I shook my head and laughed, a little too loud:

"When are we finally going to stop being scared of each other?"

He looked me in the eye for a long time and replied, evenly:

"It wasn't fear, Diana, it was your touch. How about you?"

A deep sigh escaped my chest, followed by the sound of breaking glass--the wine glass I completely forgot I had in my hand fell to the floor.

Then, unexpectedly for myself, I slammed my balled fist on the table, almost knocking down the bottle. Evidently, I was more drunk than I thought.

"God damn him for finding me!"

Kyle kept his quiet, but I was already on a roll, despite myself.

"I tried to explain! I tried to get through to him, but it just isn't possible! Don't you see? The problem is he only hears what he wants to hear. And if something isn't to his liking, he simply turns a deaf ear!!!"

Agitated, I jumped from my armchair--and immediately fell down, tripped by Kyle's long legs.

"Shhh, take it easy, Diana..." He rushed to bring me up off the floor, but there was no stopping me and I continued gesticulating wildly.

"If he wants something, he just has to own it! He owns me! And if I want something..."

Kyle scooped me up in his hands and carried me out of the room.

"... then it still has to agree with his own wishes! Tyrant! God damn him!" My rage was boiling over the top.

Kyle lowered me onto my bed, fuming and spitting that I was, and it was only then that I looked around and checked myself. He just kept staring at me, an understanding grin on his face.

I felt ashamed.

"I got plastered, didn't I? Oh, shucks! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No big deal. It'll all be over by morning. It always is." With a smile, he turned to go.

All of its own accord, my hand grabbed at his shirt.

"Aren't you going to take advantage of the situation?" I hoped to sound seductive enough. I wanted him to be unable to resist--and thus take the burden of making the decision off my shoulders.

Kristoff would be sure to avail himself, the drunk idiot inside of me was about to say but I managed to shut her up just in time.

Kyle sized me up with a long stare. He sat down on my bed and took my hand. Frowning, he picked at my fingers and said nothing.

"You see, Diana," he finally said. "Whatever my desires, I do not want to take advantage of you. I want to share my life with you. However much of it I have left. Probably not too long. Hunters never live long." Kyle smiled, as if apologizing for that sad fact.

Each new word off his lips made my face burn with shame hotter and hotter. I wished I could fall off the face of the earth that very second! The further the better.

He continued:

"With luck, I'd get to see you happy, with all the pain you have suffered... before me... left firmly behind. If my luck holds, I'd be delighted to see you carrying my child... and be right next to you when the baby is born and begins to grow. Now, if that luck reaches truly epic proportions, I hope to grow old and die in the same bed with you."

Oblivious to my raspy breathing and tears streaming down my face, I couldn't take my wide-open eyes off of Kyle. He smiled, wiped the salty rivulets off my hair and finished on an ironic note:

"Well, that's the gist of it... So you see, the body alone is not enough. I want it all."

"Forgive m--"

His fingers on my lips checked the apology.

"Good night." Her kissed my forehead and left me alone.

For long hours afterwards, I lay awake, replaying his words in my mind over and over again, shuffling blocks of my consciousness from one place to another, rethinking my entire world...

 

** ** **

Barely a week had passed since our return when I noticed that Kyle was growing more reluctant to leave home. When I asked him about it, he gave me an evasive answer to the effect that the manhunt was picking up speed, but I still had no reason to worry since they would never be able to find us in our trusty safe haven. Yet, on the very same day he came back with a huge bag of cash. Dumbfounded, I was staring at its fat belly, the thick wads of bills shamelessly showing through. He went on to explain, totally unperturbed:

"It doesn't seem I'll be able to have access to my accounts for much longer."

"Will they find us?"

"They may find account numbers, but it won't be the end of the world for us, Diana. Especially now." He nodded at the bag and took a sip of his milk, a happy baby all around.

Regardless, a few days later Kyle came back from yet another one of his trips feeling uncharacteristically gloomy and asked me to pack a travel bag. Just in case.

As I watched him, my worry growing, he went on to explain.

"Today, an official wanted notice for us was circulated globally. The world of people now deems us to be serial killers. Or, rather, I am, and you are my accomplice. There's no need to take me alive, but they do need you as the only witness who knows where the last of the victims, who are still alive, are being hidden."

I gave an exasperated sigh. Had Kristoff gone mad altogether? Was it some kind of black humor or something? It was he who was the serial murderer!

"All government entities have been tapped to distribute our photos. The media runs endless ads promising rewards to anyone with any information whatsoever about us. And the problem is, Diana, that the rewards are such that... now I cannot even be sure of my old partners. And I took a lot of care picking them to begin with."

As he sat down at the table, Kyle closed his eyes and cradled his head in both hands.

"Now this place may have been compromised. There are a couple of people that know about it."

I came closer and put my hands on his shoulder, trying to put him at ease as best I could.

"But... last time I escaped, everyone knew I was wanted, too, didn't they?"

He shook his head.

"No, Diana, it's different now. Last time, it was only his sleuths, and maybe some of the secret services, that were looking for you. Now it's like the entire world has been put on alert. Even people--thousands of them--have been reassigned, spending all their time looking for you and getting paid for it. And the rest of them are just keeping their eyes open, for hope of getting lucky and scoring a huge bounty.

Suddenly, Kyle looked up and said firmly:

"But don't you think they are going to find us! I have a plan. There is a place only I know about. That's where I am going to hide you."

Nodding my support, I was staring out the window, seeing nothing, all the while thinking how desperate the omnipotent Kristoff must have felt to make the entire world look for his lost toy...

 

** ** **

"Diana, my sweet, wake up!"

I felt familiar hands on my cheeks and hair, but sleep just wouldn't let me go. There, in the honeyed calmness, the fearless little crystal fish that was me was gliding through the water permeated with sun rays, and the juicy green blades of seaweed caressed my face...

"Come on, Diana, wake up... We need to leave... Right away!"

I was almost being shaken now. Abruptly, I sat up in bed and opened my eyes. The seaweed was slowly fading, making room for Kyle's anxious face.

"What?"

"We need to leave now, Diana! Do you understand me?"

I nodded and tried getting on my feet, grabbing at whatever was around to steady myself. He was saying something about rising danger and new search methods, but, still asleep on my feet, I could not grasp such complicated matters and concentrated on the simplest of tasks, like getting up and getting dressed.

Some twenty minutes later, we were already getting into an unremarkable albeit powerful gray car--an off-road vehicle by all indications. I had never seen it before, but now was not the time to investigate where it had come from. It could never have gotten here unless the driver knew the secret route through the caves, or maybe Kyle himself brought it in while I was asleep.

Watching him squeeze our two bags, mine and his, into the cargo hold crammed with some strange equipment, I felt the familiar pangs of guilt again.

"Kyle!"

"Yes?" he responded, continuing with his packing effort.

"You are leaving it all behind because of me..."

For a moment, he froze and then, slamming the trunk lid shut, turned to face me.

"I am not so sure I am worth this kind of a sacrifice."

He kept his silence.

"You see, if we split now," I said, afraid to look at him, "you may still have a chance to survive. With me, you are doomed. You know it yourself, and I don't want to--"

"Are you trying to insult me with those words?"

"No, Kyle, I didn't--"

"Listen!" Taking a step forward, he took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. "I've made my choice long ago. Please respect it."

"Kyle, I--"

"It may not be for long, but I will be with you, Diana. I've made my choice."

Swallowing hard, I nodded and tried to smile.

"We don't have any time for talking. We need to leave, the sooner the better." He slammed the door on my side shut, got behind the wheel and started the engine.

As we entered an underground tunnel, the place I held so dear was left firmly behind, as if it were some kind of a ghostly mirage in the moonlight. The mad dance of our vehicle's headlights pierced the pitch darkness, momentarily resting on large boulders scattered all around. It was a dangerous road that required ultimate concentration, and Kyle kept his silence, never letting go of the steering wheel.

Finally, the most difficult section was over, replaced by the even grinding sound of a rocky road.

"Why don't you take a nap?" he suggested. "I know you didn't get anywhere near enough sleep. It'll be fairly even from this point on."

"No."

Sleep was gone altogether, and I couldn't take my tense stare off the windshield.

"All right, then, if you want, I could tell you a story..."

 

** ** **

Like many other generations of men in their family before him, Gary, Kyle's father, was also a hunter.

"A hunter's life has become much easier lately, what with all the new sophisticated equipment and chemical compounds we can use against our enemy," Kyle's voice was remarkably even, as if we were not speeding like crazy among humongous rocks with only our parking lights on. "In the old times, hardly anyone got to live past thirty. Only the strongest, the smartest and the most ruthless survived. Of them, only those who managed to leave progeny behind extended their family lineage into the future. Necessary skills of the trade had to be honed very quickly and passed along, from one generation to another."

Gary was a vehement personality. Remarkably strong and possessive of a cold, analytical mind, he would take on the most complicated orders and get paid top dollar. However, it wasn't just about making a few extra bucks.

He thrived on risk, of which his professional occupation offered plenty. On occasion, he would actively search for cases others had refused so that, upon successfully completing those jobs, he could feel superior to both his colleagues and the masters of the world.

His very confidence seemed to protect him like a suit of armor while his partners, acquaintances and their entire families would get wiped out one after another by those they dared to hunt.

Yet, Gary seemed unperturbed by all that. He was used to the sight of death and often quipped, quite cynically so, that people frequently dying was the inevitable collateral of his chosen profession.

Then he met Helena.

"I don't know how it happened, my father never told me. As a young boy, I never thought of asking, and when I did later on, he would just cut the story short and leave the room..."

Like myself, Helena became a slave courtesy of her own parents. Her master was fairly young and not much of a challenge for Gary.

"But even had he been Kristoff himself, I am sure my father wouldn't have backed off. He knew he was not going to live long and wanted to spend at least some time with the woman he loved."

I began to understand.

Having killed Helena's master, he whisked her away--to a distant province where they stood much less of a chance of being recognized and where they got married under fictitious names.

"Even as a child, I marveled at how much influence my mother had over dad," Kyle's voice warmed up. "It was as if she pushed a button somewhere, and my father's savage nature would dissolve in a happy and peaceful glow. When he was not in the mood, she would simply come up to him from behind as he sat, brooding, kiss his neck and move on, and I would watch the deep lines on his forehead disappear."

Gary set up a number of secret hiding places that his family could use to lay low until he came back. Because of Helena, he abandoned his old daredevil ways and would only accept an occasional order when he was sure the money was well worth the risk.

"But why? It was so dangerous! Why didn't he quit that business altogether?"

"It's very simple, really," Kyle said, quiet doom in his voice. "The risk is huge, but the reward is just as large. That's how our families survived. Looking back at the generations of hunters in their families, sons of hunters simply pick up where those before them left off. Besides, you get used to big money fairly quickly, and it isn't easy to stop. A regular hunter takes an order a month, if that, and gets decent money. Even though equipment expenses eat up the lion's share, there's always plenty left over..."

The only part of his dangerous escapades as a bachelor that Gary could never leave behind was his excessive confidence. He was sure he couldn't just die--not him nor his family.

So death decided to take him on.

Once, after he set out on a job, leaving his wife and son behind in one of the hideouts, they came for them.

The hideout was set up deep inside a network of natural caverns, and, as was his usual practice at that place and all the others, Gary had also set up a couple of secret chambers where one could hide and sit an attack out. Those minuscule vaults were located in side tunnels and turned invisible once their outer stone slabs were put back in place, while the ventilation shafts carried all smells out and away, outside the abode.

"She could have hidden with me, and chances are they wouldn't have found us. Yet, the way I see it now, my mother decided I'd have a better chance at survival if she distracted them."

No one knew Gary had a son now. Hunters always kept quiet about such things, since that was the best way to ensure their children were safe.

"There was yet another smell at the hideout--my smell--and that put the attackers on alert. The way my father found her when he came back a day later indicated that they had taken their time... inquiring of her if there was anyone else in the house. Regardless, I haven't heard a sound. Putting the stone slab back into place, she told me to sit tight and make no noise until she or my father opened the vault from the outside. So I just sat there, waiting..."

After burying his wife, Gary went on a rampage, taking revenge on everyone involved. He discovered that he had been betrayed by someone he considered to be his best friend. Apparently, the bounty set on the head of the world's most successful hunter happened to be too much of a test for their friendship...

"That's why we never let anyone in on what was really important. This is the way to save yourself a great disappointment when it comes to friends," Kyle said with bitter irony.

Having taken his revenge, Gary changed completely.

"I was only six when my mom was killed, but I understood something was wrong. Very, very wrong..."

No, his father didn't drown his sorrows, lose his composure or take it all out on his son. Yet, the abrasiveness of his character became razor-sharp. Confidence morphed into hardcore intransigence. Strong will progressed to aloofness. Courage became a death wish.

To be sure, he took good care of Kyle. He even taught him the trade, albeit with no particular enthusiasm. It seemed that his soul had followed his beloved, leaving the body, an empty husk, behind to go through the most basic of motions on autopilot. The sparkle of life went out of his eyes.

Only on those rare occasions when he picked up their family album did the human being in him awaken--the kind that once knew how to smile. He would bring those pictures up close to his face, as if he was nearsighted, trying to stave off the entire world outside with still images of the past. One could tell he was truly alive in the span of those short few seconds...

By a strange twist of fate, Gary got to live unusually long for a hunter--well into his forties. Yet it only gave him an extra reason to hate himself, since he believed he was living off her time.

"It was back in my young years that I understood an important thing: life is unbearably short! Any moment can be your last, Diana! Even now, we could get into an accident, and it would all come crushing down. Forever!" Kyle's hand chopped through the air with grim finality. "Everyone knows this, and everyone is trying to avoid coming to grips with their own mortality. But that's a mistake! The very realization that your life may end at any time makes you appreciate every moment you remain alive, to worship every little bit of happiness! When you are fully aware you may never see your loved ones again, why would you want to hurt them, physically or verbally? Why would you want to be indifferent or pinch pennies?"

Kyle grew silent, allowing me to reflect on the depth of his words.

I was flabbergasted: what he had just said was not only true of the short life of a hunter. It was true of any and every human life!

Indeed, every moment could be your last.

Then Kyle went on:

"No matter how much has been lost, Diana, I know one thing: letting any more happiness slip through your fingers is sheer madness! I'll do anything it takes, commit a crime even if need be, to come closer to my happiness... with you. And if I ever get there, I fully intend to enjoy every moment of it... Even if it's just a single moment!"

 

** ** **

Once again, we were trying to remain invisible and slip through a fine mesh skillfully cast over the world by someone who knew about such matters. Day in, day out, there was nothing but vehicles in our lives: large beat-up trucks, minuscule harmless-looking subcompacts, nimble vans... They were always low key and in good condition. On some rare occasions, there were also planes, though, of course, not of the passenger kind.

With me waiting around the corner of some huge, dusty hangar, Kyle would work over some young pilot or other, trying to convince him to help a poor lover steal his young paramour from her jealous sugar daddy--an influential senior government official. Paying no heed to his mark's skeptical grins and understanding stares, Kyle would keep on going, unperturbed:

"Would you believe it, bro? She can't stand the sight of him, and he still won't leave her alone!"

It was so close to the actual truth that the first time I heard that "story" I slid down the hangar wall, laughing hysterically.

The pitch was always accompanied with a sizable contribution to help keep the plane in a good state of repair, and that never failed to resolve the issue in our favor. On a number of occasions, we managed to swap our cars for a plane ride.

And then we'd be in the air, squeezed into a little opening behind the cockpit, surrounded on all sides with boxes and bags. Kyle would put his hands around me in a proprietary manner as I stared at him with googly eyes for the benefit of the guy at the controls, casting knowing looks our way every now and then. Yet, once we were out of sight, Kyle would immediately let go of me and withdraw. I was touched to the core by him being so tactful and almost rejoiced at the opportunity to play passionate love again every time the pilot would come out to look in on us.

We had to wear disguises, too. On those rare occasions we came in contact with people, our huge photos posted everywhere made it hard to believe there was anyone left on the planet who wouldn't recognize us. All those posters had ARMED AND DANGEROUS printed in huge block letters across the top, the bottom line being dedicated to a number with multiple zeroes that trailed the first digit like cars behind a locomotive in a long train.

After a few weeks of instruction by Kyle, I could well make a living working as a makeup artist. Being able to quickly change his appearance beyond any recognition was one of the skills he unexpectedly turned out to have. Every time that, having looked away for a few minutes, he would turn his new face of a stranger back to me, I'd recoil, startled, and begin cooing in admiration, carefully studying the changes he made and fingering the fake facial features he had so skillfully appended. Incidentally, our luggage happened to contain an entire suitcase full of wigs, masks, partial masks, noses, brows, mustaches and beards, theatrical makeup and other such things used by professional stage artists.

I had no idea where we were going and feared that our voyage did not actually have a final destination. Sensing my ever increasing unease, as he always had, Kyle was quick to offer some solace.

"My father said he had never had a chance to use one of his hideouts. He said he'd go spend his final days there when he grew old. Naturally, that was an inside joke only a hunter could understand. We never grow old. There's never enough time for that." With a bitter smile, Kyle continued, "The place is far away from major cities. It isn't as comfortable as my own, but it will do. What's important is that it's completely off any communications grids, so we stand much less of a chance of being found there. Yet, its main attraction is that, to the best of my knowledge, neither my father nor I have ever told anyone about it. I hope they won't find us there."

A ray of hope illuminated my soul, giving rise to a new dream--making it to the safe haven!

All regular comforts were conspicuously absent from our travels. For the most part, we slept in the car, hidden in the brush away from roads and towns that we tried to bypass as best we could, save for brief stops at gas stations and such when we needed gas, food and drink.

On rare occasions, we would allow ourselves the luxury of spending a night at some cheap motel, full of other unsavory characters. After a thoroughly enjoyable wash under a jerky, haphazardly spitting rusty shower head, I'd fall on a sagging bed in yet another such fleabag, close my eyes and sigh contentedly:

"This is heaven!"

Kyle would only laugh.

"The longer it goes, the less I worry about you not liking my father's ancient hideout."

I was indeed used to something different, he was right about that. Now I often woke up at night, freezing; not being able to take a bath was sheer torture, and having a regular commode handy became the stuff of dreams. From that point on I would forever hate granola bars and bottled water and promised myself that in the future I would only eat my own cooking.

However, my unwillingness to be a toy in someone else's hands any longer made this awkward discomfort a fairly small price to pay.

On a few occasions, we came perilously close to being identified.

Once, some official took unusually long studying our papers, of which we had plenty. Even though that close examination had no adverse consequences, when we finally pulled away from the checkpoint we were barely breathing from fear and stress.

After that, when approaching another checkpoint, I would quickly become pregnant. Swarthy Kyle, unrecognizable with his glue-on mustache and crooked nose, his fake accent thick as a brick, would cackle happily, demanding the green light for his wife who was due at any moment.

"I have a son coming, friend, don't you see? A son!"

True happiness radiating from his eyes proved to be so catching that we were always offered an escort, to which Kyle would retort, totally unperturbed:

"Ain't no need to bother no one. We'll get there just fine!"

Then, his hand happily caressing my huge belly, we would drive off under the sympathetic eyes of police officers and other drivers.

"Are you hypnotizing them all or something?" I quipped, totally smitten, but he would only smile back. "Man, this is so easy it's uncanny! You stick a pillow under your shirt, give a few moans, and everybody buys the ruse hook, line and sinker!"

Naturally, I was exaggerating, trying to dispel the fear that seemed to permeate the air. The way Kyle played his role, with great skill and peace of mind, could not be explained away by experience alone: he apparently had an acting talent. Me, I would take at least a couple of hours after every such incident to get back to normal, and once I was done laughing I'd often fall asleep forgetting to take that pillow out. Through my sleep, I would feel someone carefully rubbing my "pregnant" belly...

 

Unlike me, who was startled at every loud noise and looked over my shoulder way more often than was necessary, Kyle took our adventures as a regular routine. He was just being careful.

In contrast, I thought I saw familiar faces everywhere.

The feeling of a presence was growing, and growing, and growing...

I never told Kyle any of my suspicions. I owed him too much to bother him with my paranoia on top of it all.

By the end of the third week, Kyle began checking the map and looking around more and more often. I understood that we were getting close. Like genuine treasure hunters, we were not even sure the safe haven was there. All Kyle had was a map and his father's word. Maybe, it was for that reason that we thought that, like in a fairy tale, it would be all different there, and much better in any case...

When the long, barely noticeable road we were traveling on through some forest finally came to a clearing and a huge body of water shone ahead, I gasped in admiration, watching the red sunset put fire to water. Damp wind enveloped the land, fanning my hair, reminding me of the ocean that had cured me of my injuries.

"I could live here, Kyle! And it would be so... so..."

"Quiet?"

"How did you guess?" I laughed.

He pointed at the lake and the only island in the middle of it, all overgrown with trees and sporting a trim of white sand along the edge.

"Over there, among the trees... Once you go deeper, all the way in, that's where your new home is going to be."

"Our home," I corrected him.

He didn't object.

Finding a relatively level stretch of rocky ground, we came down to the edge of the water. Kyle pulled the largest of our bales out of the trunk--the one that was bugging me so much all along when we had to change vehicles. It turned out to be an inflatable dinghy with an outboard motor. Now I understood why he took such great care loading and unloading it on the way.

Loading some of our luggage into the dinghy, Kyle hid our car in the nearby brush and helped me in, over the rubber gunwale that was jumping up and down on the low surf.

"Maybe you should take our stuff across first?" I suggested, looking back at the car and feeling very uncomfortable. I couldn't swim, and the lake seemed to be very deep.

"Oh, no! I am not leaving you alone."

Kyle started the motor, and the boat chugged along slowly, heading towards the island. It grew nearer by the moment, growing as it did. Soon the solid mass of the forest became separate trees and individual boulders became visible along the surf line.

Then, with a soft bump, the bow hit the sand.

My shoes in my hands, I set my bare foot on shore, enjoying the warm grains of sand flowing through my toes.

Was it really the end of the road?

Was I going to finally find my peace here?

My eyes were frantically seeking the outline of a house deep inside the island, among the flickering shadows. I hoped it was going to be my final homestead, and I would never again have to abandon familiar walls in a great rush, or after long preparations, whether out of fear or in search of something better. Never, ever!

I was dying to stop!

"Come, quick, I want to see our house!"

Kyle smiled. My words must have really been balm for his soul.

"Yes, of course... But first I need to go back and get the rest of our luggage from the car. Everything we will need to get started is still there, including all the alert systems. That's what's important. Besides, I need to do a better job hiding the car." As he spoke, he was unloading things from the boat.

My mind elsewhere, I was nodding, at the same time listening to my inner self--and the world outside that suddenly froze.

"Stay here, I'll be back in twenty minutes or so."

"All right," I whispered, all life suddenly drained from my lips.

Let him sail away... This way, he may still have a chance. Just maybe.

 

** ** **

The unbearable wait pulsated through the air.

Its imperceptible yet deafening sound was cutting me into pieces. Frozen in place on the verge of impending catastrophe, I stood there, my head down, listening to... to him being there.

Suddenly, a gust of furious wind swirled the sand around me. Small pebbles hurt the skin of my feet, and a whirlwind of leaves torn off the nearby underbrush danced in front of my eyes.

"I am not going with you, Kristoff," my lips whispered, the words barely audible.

He was everywhere!

His silhouette was in every grain of sand, almost at the same time, cutting me off from the rest of the world.

"You can't make me. I'd rather die."

In a split second, the hurricane died, leaving a circle of leaves on the ground... and Kristoff in front of me, three steps away.

Nothing in him reminded me of the last time we met. His inhumanly cold face revealed not a trace of suffering, not a smidgen of pain, not a shadow of remorse... The steely resolve in his eyes immediately brought me back to the day that cut my previous life short, making me feel like a fox in an inescapable trap.

But I was not going to be taken alive!

"You cannot hold me forever!"

"That's where you are wrong, Diana..."

The sound of his voice alone pained me. The inevitable doom it spelled was worse than a direct blow.

"No!" Shaking my head, unable to resist my reflexes, I broke into a run through the soft sand, as if in slow motion.

A step, another one... He never even wanted to play, immediately locking me in the ring of his hands. Overwhelming bitterness immediately replaced all other feelings.

This was never going to end!

He would never leave me alone. He would never understand.

I looked into his eyes, eager to have my stare carry the message across--and knowing beforehand the attempt was an exercise in futility.

"It would be easier if you just killed me."

The inevitable pain that being next to him entailed made death look like an increasingly more attractive way out...

"On the contrary, I will give you eternal life!"

That unexpected answer made me stop all attempts at resistance and freeze.

"You will be like me. I should have done it sooner! What was I waiting for? Their permission? Who are they anyway, next to me? Children that fancy themselves masters of my world..." Absorbed in his rambling musings, Kristoff was clearly talking to himself. Then he focused on me and repeated, with great vigor, "You will be like me! I will change you. And you will remain by my side forever!"

Though all of it sounded like delirious outpourings of a madman, the instinctive realization that his promise could in fact be viable made my eyes fling wide open. I could indeed become like him. Rise up to his level. Become his equal.

I felt the sweet tremor of hope light up the shadow of the old me deep down inside, behind the sky-high stone walls all around.

Become like him! Be with him forever! happily moaned the old Diana, enjoying the memory of his body firmly pressed against every curve of my own.

"I'll do it. Right now!"

His scary stare, full of unflinching determination, veered sideways looking for something or someone I could not see.

"Aren't you going to ask me if that's what I want?"

He stared back at me.

Knock it off! the furious cat of my past hissed, but I kept going:

"As always, it's enough that you want it, isn't it?"

He looked into my face as if seeing it for the first time, or as if I suddenly spoke to him in some unfamiliar language. For a moment, I felt as if someone I once held so dear roused awake in him.

A motor roared in the distance.

Iron determination burned the nascent understanding to ashes.

"Give me the case!"

Barely had the words, low yet imperious, died away in the wind when a man materialized next to us. His face looked vaguely familiar. He may have been the driver who intercepted me by my parents' house and delivered me straight to the "master" during my first and failed escape attempt.

Carefully, as if handling something of great value, he opened a small black case and handed it to Kristoff.

With a morbid interest, I looked at what was inside. Firmly held in its soft socket with secure clasps, the metal contraption was vaguely reminiscent of a glass syringe filled with semitransparent dull red liquid.

My wrists were jerked together and cuffed securely inside the circle of Kristoff's hand. His free hand reached for the "syringe."

"Go, I don't need you anymore," he ordered without taking his mad, excruciatingly physical stare off my face.

Why did he even look at me that way?

"But sir..." the servant's hand pointed at the lake. The sound of the motor was getting closer.

"Go! A single hunter isn't a problem for me... Especially now."

With a slight bow, the servant disappeared, the air rushing into the new void. Soon, the high notes of the first motor were joined by a powerful basso on the other side of the island.

"It all should have been different... and happening sooner," Kristoff frowned and, shaking his head, turned me around to expose my shoulder.

"Kristoff..." a moan escaped from my lips--whether of doom or expectation, I didn't know myself.

He quickly leaned in, taking the metal contraption to my shoulder.

A gust of wind ruffled my hair as time froze, my long locks splitting the world into pieces: Kristoff in one, his inevitable hand in another, the lake and the putt-putt-putt of the motor in another still.

There was also the sky...

Something sharp touched my skin.

It was all hopeless!

Yet the pain that had to follow the cold touch of the needle never came. Jerking his hand back so quickly that I missed the motion altogether, Kristoff looked at the lake. Or rather, he was looking at Kyle whose facial features were still a blur but getting sharper with each second as the boat drew closer.

"You are lying," Kristoff said with great confidence.

I threw him a puzzled look: I didn't say anything. Then I understood he had simply replied to something Kyle said--something I could not yet hear that was perfectly audible for him.

"You are lying," he repeated, the anger in his voice growing.

Sudden pain made me shudder. In a swoosh of one of his imperceptible motions, he slashed my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of his hand dropping something that looked like a folding knife into his pocket.

"He is lying, Diana," vehement Kristoff assured me even though I still didn't know what it was all about. "He simply doesn't want to lose you!"

In the palm of his hand, he collected a pool of my blood, drip by drip, and shook a few drops of the dull liquid into it off the needle.

For a few seconds, both of us were holding our breath, watching what was about to happen, oblivious to the ever closer roar of the engine on the lake. He was expecting something. I was waiting for the unexpected.

Then my blood clotted!

It happened so quickly that Kristoff recoiled. One second, he had the crimson sea of my life in his palm, but the next it became a desert of rusty sand...

He raised his eyes to me.

There was unmitigated horror in them.

"You are going to die..." his lips whispered, barely moving.

Finally it all dawned upon me.

The substance he was going to inject me with would have killed me, clotting my blood in a split second. Kyle wasn't lying.

By some cruel, perverted twist of vindictive fate, I could not be transformed.

A thin stiletto of pain pierced my chest! It could not be concealed and I let sorrow drip from my eyes, sharing it with Kristoff, letting it mix freely with his own agony.

"You are going to die..." His fingers dug into my wrist harder and harder, as if trying to hold on to it, prevent it from slipping away to a place of no return. "You are not going to be by my side forever! I was so certain... so certain... that we had all eternity ahead of us... and that I could merit your forgiveness... some day... over centuries. And now... you are going to die instead!"

Spasmodically, his fingers grabbed at me and a grimace of pain distorted his face, so perfect in its beauty despite all the scars. The look of his gorgeous eyes grew glassy, and Kristoff froze. And then... then he began falling backwards--past Kyle who had jumped aside just in time.

 

"Phew, I barely made it," he sighed. "I never hoped to be able to get so close to him! Diana, are you all right? What did he do to you?"

Grabbing Kristoff's hand, he carefully inspected my dried out blood on it. Then he whispered:

"I was right... right. It clotted!"

Still in shock, I alternated between nodding a yes and shaking a no, unable to take my eyes off Kristoff, stretched out on the ground before me the way he stood upright a moment before: fingers twisted by a spasm, his contorted face showing signs of great agony.

"I've got to get moving before this hulk gets back to his senses!" Pulling up his trouser leg, Kyle revealed a large flat flask strapped to his left shin.

Only when he turned to the prostrated Kristoff, unscrewing the cap, did I realize what he was about to do.

"No!!!" a desperate scream flew off my lips.

I rushed to him, grabbing the flask with my both hands, jerking it backwards, away from the frozen body in front of us.

"Kyle, please, I am begging you! No!"

Taken aback by my unexpected attack, Kyle froze for a second and then turned to face me, all worry.

"We are never going to get another chance like this, Diana, don't you see? We need to finish him off, here and now!"

"Kyle, please!" Never letting go of the flask, I looked at the helpless body, and then back at Kyle, whispering: "I don't want to... I don't want... him... to die..."

The riot of jaw muscles contracting on Kyle's face revealed how difficult it must have been for him to keep his calm, but when he spoke his voice seemed to be almost normal:

"You do understand he is never going to leave you alone, don't you? He will chase you again and again, until he catches you and returns you to your cage. He will never let you live your life the way you want to!"

I looked at Kristoff. That's exactly how it was going to be. I knew it, and yet...

"Yes, I understand... Still, I want him to live."

Shifting my eyes to Kyle, I begged him again:

"Please, Kyle! Please don't kill him... please..."

After a long pause, frowning Kyle finally muttered through his clenched teeth:

"You want to... stay with him?"

I do! the naive, broken up butterfly inside of me tried to get herself heard.

For a moment, a sparkle of life flickered in Kristoff's glassy eyes.

"No, I am staying with you," evenly said the present me, turning away from the dying sparkles of hope. "I've made my choice, Kyle: my time may be short, but it is all yours."

All I had was that short stretch of time, and I was going to give it to someone who could truly appreciate it.

Kyle smiled back, not even trying to hide his relief.

I went on:

"You said you wanted to die by my side. Well, I guess he"--I nodded at Kristoff--"will help that dream come true. But before it happens... Until it happens, we will be happy together! For as long as it lasts!"

Holding hands, we were heading towards the boat, leaving behind, on the white sands of some lonely island, the master of the world, who had tried to snatch his fleeting happiness and hold on to it forever. His glazed-over eyes, full of doom and inhuman agony, kept looking into the sky...

 

"Where to now?" Kyle asked when the boat slowly set on its curving course away from the island.

We both knew that sooner or later they would get to us. Where should we spend the last days of our lives--that's what that question was really all about.

"Let's go back home." I couldn't really think of any other options.

Kyle nodded. With quiet confidence, as if he had always done it that way, he put his hand around me and held me close.

We never looked back.

 

** ** **

The road back didn't take long.

Like warriors protected from enemy swords by a magic spell, we charged fearlessly straight ahead, taking the most direct route... and meeting no resistance. Nowhere we went--the busy airport where we dared get on a direct flight, or the stores we barged into together, wearing no disguises--did anyone try to grab at us, sporting multiple zeroes in greedy eyes. The bulletin boards that only the day before prominently featured our mug shots and screaming warnings were now conspicuously empty.

As if someone had thrown a switch.

 

When I saw the steep cliffs and tasted salt on my lips, hearing the steady murmur of the ocean, I could not believe it had only been three weeks since we left.

No, it was an eternity ago!

In the previous life.

I realized it had been yet another transformation and smiled to that thought. Here was yet another--and the last--of my lives.

It was all the way it was supposed to be.

I had no regrets. Nor did I dream of anything. I simply caressed the familiar things and surfaces with my fingers, committing the marvelous sensation to memory, trying to take in what in the span of a few days, maybe even hours, would be no longer available to me: the house that gave me the gift of peace, the endless expanse on the other side of the window. And that man next to me.

Forever, to the very end.

He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his breath tickling my neck. Finally, I was no longer torn in two. I was with him.

"Care to go for a walk?" Our eyes were already roaming down there, by the surf line.

"You think we still have any time left for that?"

He burst out laughing.

"Diana, we have all eternity!"

 

And so we sat, hugging each other, on the soft, warm sand, out of reach of the long tongues of the surf. Kyle hid my hand in his fist and smiled watching it nested inside in its entirety, all warm and cozy. Booming echo carried the sobbing cries of the seagulls and the murmur of the surf around, multiplying them and playing tricks on our imaginations. It felt as if there was yet another stretch of the ocean behind us, and the narrow ribbon of the barrier island we were on had popped above its surface for us alone, as there was no one else in the world.

A sudden wind gust threw all of my hair into my face. Having dug it from under the mess of living locks clinging to the skin--an undertaking in its own right!--Kyle kept staring at me as if in a trance--at the amazing, precious, remarkable me.

Yes, remarkable I was.

Only I didn't know if that was good or bad.

More likely than not, no one else knew, either.

 

** ** **

"Kyle, what's wrong with me?" I could only summon the courage to ask him that on the second day of our trip. In my mind's eye, the same scene was playing over and over again: my blood being turned into brown sand by a few drops of some lucent liquid. Judging by Kristoff's shocked look, it was... unusual.

"I wish I knew," Kyle sighed.

We were sitting by a glass wall in an almost empty airport cafe, watching huge metal birds landing and taking off against the background of gray skies.

"What did he try to inject me with?"

Kyle's unwillingness to discuss the subject matter seemed to be almost palpable.

"His virus," he finally said and, as if realizing that in itself that was not much of an answer, but rather the beginnings of one, proceeded to explain, preempting the questions I had. "Every one of them carries a special, very active virus that makes the cells mutate, drastically changing the carrier's body and transforming it to suit its own needs. They are not born this way, Diana. They become what they are. That's their main secret."

"So, everyone... " I began and immediately corrected myself: "I mean, every normal person could become the way they are? All you have to do is introduce a virus?"

All of a sudden, I succumbed to a horrible vision: millions of people, unable to resist the temptation of eternal life and endless opportunities, swapping their weak human bodies for fast killing machines... Hundreds of millions of tigers...

What were they all going to eat?

"It isn't as easy as that," Kyle checked the flight of my imagination. "Otherwise, as I am sure you will agree, humans as a species would have long gone extinct. Ever since science took a leap forward and researchers that cooperate with hunters managed to isolate this virus, there were... ahem..." He hesitated but then, after a long pause, continued, "There were a number of attempts made to infect humans with it, but none of them proved successful. The problem is we know next to nothing about the infection process, since no one ever got to witness it. But I am sure that sooner or later hunters will figure it all out."

He grew silent but then, catching the look on my face, rushed to reassure me:

"Please understand that the only goal here is to study the process. To develop an efficient weapon! Never mind that it has all been unsuccessful so far. No one really wants to become--"

"I understand, Kyle. There's no need for excuses." Even though I spoke in a regular tone of voice, deep down inside I couldn't shake the idea that it wouldn't be all that easy to believe that no one really wanted to.

Wasn't he himself tempted--even without knowing the correct procedure--to try and transform himself? To take the risk, betting his life for a chance at eternity? How could he not have been tempted?

As if eavesdropping on my suspicions, Kyle rushed to deny it all in the most vehement of manners:

"No, you don't understand! Even if someone among the humans managed to pull it off, he wouldn't live long. He'd be killed right away--and mind you, not by us..."

"Are you saying that--"

"Yes, they'd kill him themselves. A number of times hunters got to observe that kind of a chase. Their community is fairly small--a few thousand, all in all, to the best of our knowledge--and they all know each other. With their superior sense of smell, no newcomer remains unnoticed for long. You once speculated that they were reluctant to have children. This isn't far from being true. If someone ever wishes--which happens very, very seldom, believe me--to make a human their equal, he must prove that the candidate is 'worthy' of being turned, and have the others sign off on it. It kind of makes sense considering how long they live and how limited the food supply is," Kyle concluded, gloomily.

I recalled the ball.

"If you accept them, most of them, if not all, will accept you."

"Why is it so important, Kristoff?"

"Because I want you to be by my side. Always."

Now I understood what it was Kristoff meant back at the lake shore, speaking of waiting for permission. Was even he required to get it?

I smiled at the irony of it all.

"So you were the first... I mean, the first to observe an attempt at transformation?"

"Oh, yeah, lucky me," Kyle raised a sarcastic brow. The next moment, a mask of agony distorted his face and he added, his voice quivering, "I was incredibly lucky to find myself close enough to see it when he was about to inject you with that garbage. I could've been late!"

"But how did you know? You did know that the virus could kill me, right?"

He nodded.

"I learned of it accidentally, back at Jenob's laboratory. Experimenting with your blood over and over again to try and understand what was so special about it, I once broke a test tube with Moira's blood, and a few drops got into yours. I was totally flabbergasted when right before my eyes almost two hundred milligram of your blood clotted within a split second. I never had the time to figure out what it is that triggers instant clotting--whether it's the virus itself or something else in their blood... Then, when both of us fled, I no longer had the material to experiment with," Kyle smiled. "In any case, I was sure that any attempt at transformation would mean certain death for you. As you can see, I was right."

"So that's why you wanted me to escape as soon as I could?" I recalled him professing my coming demise... and how Kristoff said it was all a lie.

For a long time, Kyle was looking me in the eye, saying nothing.

"That was one of the reasons."

I nodded. His reasons seemed to be many.

"So what's so special about my blood?"

"I don't know--not even after many months of research. On the other hand, this isn't my specialization, of course. To be sure, the goal pursued at the lab was not so much to answer why, but rather to make use of your phenomenon to help Moira. At first glance, you are no different from other people. But you could see it yourself what kind of an effect your blood had on Moira. It was like an elixir of life... She even began changing and growing older, which is impossible for them on principle. It was more like magic than mere medicine," Kyle smiled warmly.

"They even said I smelled differently, not like all the other people."

"You are special, Diana!" His fingers went to caress my face and stayed on my cheek, unable to break off. "Very, very special..."

 

** ** **

Special.

Our time, too, was especially short.

A steady, ever more urgent sound filled up the universe. Tic-tac, tic-tac, tictac, tictac, tictactictac...

I was not going to waste a single moment!

Brushing the sand off my clothes, I got up, full of resolve, and stared at the dancing crests of the waves. If not now, when? In one fluid motion, I freed myself of my dress and threw it aside. The panties came off next. The chaste wind rushed to wrap me in a silky robe of my hair. But it didn't do a very good job of it.

A seductive smile on my lips, I turned to Kyle.

"Are you going to teach me how to swim?"

Waiting for no answer from him, stiff as a statue, I headed towards the water, my entire body keenly aware of his hot stare behind. As the waves rushed to embrace my feet, putting the foamy lace on them in lieu of pantyhose, I laughed happily and looked back at Kyle, catching a glimpse of his brilliant smile. By then, he only had his swimming trunks on.

Long and juicy green garlands grabbed at my hands, and the water came almost chest-high, making my body soar, weightless. My feet measured the dense sand of the bottom with great confidence.

Where was he? I turned around.

The shore was empty, as were the waves.

Where did Kyle go?

Suddenly someone grabbed me from underwater--vigorously, furiously! But I felt not an ounce of fear, for that pair of familiar hands was tender even when dispensing passionate touches. And the lips... they were more tender still.

Then he resurfaced right next to me, noisy as a whale in the boiling water, sliding alongside my body and blocking out half the world, all covered with water drops that eagerly clung to his tan skin--crystal beads hanging off his hair and eyelashes...

"I'm afraid, Diana, swimming may not be such a good idea today. I will be very busy," he said, hoarsely, pulling me close in one resolute yank.

"Oh, that's all right!" I laughed as my arms and legs wrapped around him. "We are still going to have time for that... I believe we will."

 

Then we were making dinner.

We lit all the candles we could find in the house, filling the kitchen with warm flickering lights, congealing the shadows in the corners. While fish sizzled on the grill outside, teasing us with streams of appetizing smoke, I tried to make a mixed salad. Yet as Kyle tried his best to help me, the wicked vegetables would escape to the floor, implying we'd be more comfortable there as well.

Every new touch amazed me with its urgency, surprised with its freshness, generated everlasting memories.

A festive night it was indeed.

Laughing and constantly distracting each other with kisses, we served our food on the best tableware we had, surprising ourselves with elaborate artistry. Finally done, we froze in awe, absorbing the picture that featured the two of us everywhere: in the black glass of the window, the curvaceous sides of the glasses, each other's eyes...

The taste of food blew us away--it was so vibrant, so new... so final. And the smells! Having opened a bottle of wine, we let it breathe for a while, getting drunk on the aroma alone, without drinking a single drop.

We were in such a hurry--to live yet another moment, to enjoy the world and each other. Before the last sand grains of our time ran out. There were fewer and fewer of them left. We really needed to hurry.

Yet I was not simply coming up in smoke, losing myself. I had found my place. It was in the hands of someone for whom every moment mattered, who appreciated every breath of the terrifyingly small number of them allowed us both by merciless fate...

 

** ** **

I woke up to the feeling of pain.

Outside, the new day barely flickered through the fog. The roar of waves reigned in the world of sounds as they smashed themselves against our cliff. The wind, cold and damp, reached deep inside the house through the open window, gently tapping the frame against its arrester peg, slightly ruffling the curtains in the adjoining room, dying away by the bathroom mirror...

Why did it hurt so much?

Kyle, a smile on his face, mumbled something in his sleep, inaudible against the fervent roar of the storm, and pulled me closer. Very carefully, trying not to disturb his sweet dreams, I freed myself. He didn't wake up. He only sighed and rolled onto his other side.

I wanted to be alone for a while.

Picking up Kyle's sweater off the floor, I slid into its redeeming warmness. The soft beige wool that reached my knees made me feel protected, but at the moment it made little difference.

It hurt so much! It was so stupid--trying to hold on to what you have gained!

I had just barely been touched by happiness, barely got a taste of peace, realizing to my surprise I was still capable of feeling it all. Towards morning, teasingly, I saw our possible future life in my dreams. It was short but happy--the kind of life where losing each other, rather than exhausting your youth, beauty or gullibility, would be the worst of the sorrows.

All of a sudden, I ached to live it all, every last moment of it!

So stupid, indeed...

The heavy steel of the sky directed the storm. Eager waves strained to overrun the terrace, splashing the edge with saltwater, painting the stones with dark hues. I had never seen them so vehement before. The wind, my trusty friend, was out to kill me today. Pulling at my clothes and hair, pushing me to the ground, as if inviting me to lie down and rest, it would then try dragging me towards the edge, apparently being of two minds about what it was it really wanted to do...

Perhaps, it really made little sense to resist. It was all going to end at any moment, anyway!

Throwing a cheerless glance at the open window of the house that was about to be orphaned, I caught a bright flicker. A bit to the side, next to the rocks I used to climb to train my broken body, there was a fire burning.

Hypnotized, I stared at the dancing spot of scarlet as I walked over, drawing closer and closer, straining, as if nearsighted, to discern what it actually was. What the...?

It was a shred of the dress I wore at the ball. That very dress.

How quickly...

If only we had another day. Another hour even!

Under the rock that held the flap of silk in place, there was also something white. My feet slowed down and I stopped, looking forlornly at the unsealed envelope before me. Just as the previous time, there was no address. As I took out a sheet of expensive vellum paper, my heart skipped a bit.

The handwriting looked familiar. There were only three words.

You are free.

Suddenly, the wind plucked the stretch of scarlet silk from under the rock, threw it up and blew it away, out into the boiling ocean. My eyes followed its incredible flight until a moment later it disappeared beyond the precipice.

My gaze came back to the sheet of paper I held in my hands.

You are free.

And that was when it hit me.

"Yes," whispered my lips.

I turned my face to the wind. Happily, it rushed to my eyes, helping my tears over the threshold...

"Yes! Yes!" I screamed on top of my lungs, drowning out the roar of the storm, clutching the precious sheet to my heart. " I am free!"

Free!

I laughed through my tears as they poured down my cheeks and the wind blew them off and into the storm--up, up and away, like the shreds of my past.

There was nothing to fear anymore. I was my own master and could live my life any way I saw fit, sharing it with someone I had chosen myself. Now nothing, except death itself, could set us apart!

Kristoff, with his overabundance of power and sins, habitually took what he wanted, arbitrarily changing the law, crushing any obstacles, destroying everything in his way. Everything... But not this.

I knew he was going to keep his word.

And I was happy! Like never before.

Buoyant happiness filled me up, propelling me into the sky, like a kite. Why was I so happy? Because I was free, perhaps?

Perhaps.

Or maybe... maybe also because I now knew that Kristoff did in fact love me.

As only a human could.

 

Thirty Years Later

 

** ** **

The seas were calm, as was the wind--a rare condition on our coast that was generally as restless as human life itself. As if teasing that life, the waves were always in motion and just as unpredictable, switching from steady swells to wild animal-like leaps and bounds.

Yet, on that day everything was quiet. The waters grew calm, reflecting the screamingly blue autumn sky and the white disk of the sun that from above was watching its identical twin down below, in the suddenly placid ocean. Even the wind dared not give a sigh. Today, that was my prerogative. Once again, mournful screams by the seagulls reminded me why I had come to the shore today.

I should have been crying.

Yet, my eyes remained dry throughout the memorial ceremony. Nor did they well with tears when the precious few of those that could call themselves Kyle's friends left and I remained all alone.

Altogether alone--without him.

Once upon a time, I already mourned him. Way back, in the distant past, at the time I was now looking back on wondering, all incredulous. Did it all really happen? Trying to reach out to those years through the veil of my life experience, I saw myself--so young and beautiful and naive, crying easily, convulsing in agony, dying with him time and again, day after day...

And he was alive all along.

Quite likely, that was the reason why now, when he had left me for real, I could not brush off the eerie feeling of the immateriality of it all that swept all over me. What if I was wrong again, and in a moment he'd put his arms around me again, rushing to assure me that him dying was but a bad dream?

But no, it wasn't a dream. Alas...

The childish dream that had once seemed altogether unreachable for a hunter actually came true: Kyle died in bed next to me.

As if on a premonition, on our last night together he was particularly tender, his life-long daily passion for me finally satisfied. Turning his back to the window, never letting go of me, he looked at me for a long time in the silvery light of the moon.

"I am happy with you, Diana. Are you?"

What a silly question it was! I smiled and traced his face with my finger in the dark.

"You know I am also happy."

Unseen in the dark, his temples were streaked with abundant gray, as was the rest of his closely cropped hair. Deep lines--beautiful, wise, inevitable--crossed his forehead, but the ones under his eyes, the ones that radiated joy, tenderness and warmth, were still my favorites. His arms remained just as strong, and the shoulders that protected me from the vagaries of the world just as broad. As to the years behind... the years did not matter since we had walked through them together.

His lips touched my ear and whispered, just barely:

"I love you."

Reaching to kiss him back, I assured him--maybe for the millionth time in the years we had lived together--that I loved him, too... Of course, I loved him, too.

In the morning I found him with a quiet smile on his face and a lock of my hair around his fingers--gone to sleep forever... For a long, long time, I had washed his body with my tears...

Later, I'd find out it was a trivial heart attack.

Yet now, scattering what was left of him, some weightless ashes, over the bay where we loved each other, I did not cry. I smiled and gave thanks to fate for having had him in my life.

It was a happy and... long life!

I almost burst out laughing, feeling him next to me, half a step behind my right shoulder, grinning and shaking his head in sheer amazement.

Could we have dreamed it was going to be so long?

Never in a million years!

I never could bring myself to show Kyle the note, superstitiously afraid of ruining the miracle of my liberation. It remained hidden deep inside a linen drawer like some kind of a dormant bomb. Holding my breath, I would quietly open the drawer, take what I needed and leave the room, much relieved.

It must have been for the better.

Reluctant to waste what little time we had, we had lived every day as if it were our last, enjoying each other and everything that the world had to offer. Even when days turned to months, and then to years, we never descended into the routine, nor forgot that the end was going to be as unexpected as it was inevitable.

Rare visitors to our secluded home were surprised to see us holding hands or seeking out each other's eyes.

"How long have you been together?"

"A year."

…

"Ten years."

…

"Going to be thirty years soon."

…

Their incredulous eyes made us laugh, since hands and eyes were but a mere facade of our intimacy. To be sure, there was the other side to it--and we never missed a day...

Having installed a barrier of tenderness, care and trust all around, we never let anything that could destroy our precious life enter it. Quarrels, insults, minor bickering--all of that had been checked at the door. A spy looking for some dirt on us would find none: in our home, voices had never been raised.

"It just can't be!" everybody said. They were wrong.

It was a happy life.

When Kyle decided to quit his family business, for a long time I didn't know what to make of that change. On the one hand, I wanted to be jumping with joy, knowing that he was not going to pull the tiger's whiskers any longer; on the other, I was all too aware that he was turning his life upside down again on my account. Having given it quite some thought, I realized that he was right.

Every order could be a trap. No matter what! If anyone, I knew how fast Kristoff's moods changed. In the endless succession of his years, I was not even a page. Maybe, just an unfortunate sentence that must have surely been lost by now in the bottomless well of his memory. So what could possibly stop him from scratching his ego and playing a dirty trick on a rival who, by luck, got the better of him?

What was simply dangerous before would now be three times as dangerous.

Regardless, a talented chemist that he was, Kyle had never wanted for things to do. His former colleagues still needed his ingenious compounds.

Little by little, one of the rooms away from the bedroom was converted into a laboratory outfitted with all kinds of modern equipment. Kyle would frown and grumble that the entire house stank and that he needed a separate building, yet I could tell that he was happy to busy himself with his chemicals with me nearby. He often came to share his successes with me or, conversely, threw his lab coat into a far corner and put his hands around me, claiming that he needed a break urgently to get the creative process going again... I was only too happy to oblige.

Unexpectedly, I found my calling as a translator. Once again, my ease with languages proved to be useful. My first project was my favorite book, which I translated as a birthday present for Kyle. He praised me beyond all reason, using mostly superlatives. Then, without telling me about it, he took the translation to a publishing house and came back victorious, waving a contract in my face. All my attempts to find out how on earth he managed to pull it all off so quickly were met with unintelligible mumbling. Though I suspected he had called in some favor or other, I was still very happy and after having one too many that night solemnly swore that one day I would write an account of my own crazy life.

"It's gonna be a friggin' bestseller, I swear!" I rambled drunkenly, barely looking at Kyle.

He laughed and nodded readily, undressing me and putting me to bed as I kept trying to plant a smooch on his lips and kept missing them...

It was a happy life.

And now it was all gone with him, and there was nothing but emptiness everywhere.

Looking into the conjoined blue of the sky and the ocean, I tried to discern the horizon. I knew for sure where it had to be--over there, level with the distant cliff. Yet, there was no familiar line where it was supposed to be.

Lost and disoriented in space and time, I had no idea what I was going to do next.

I could make dinner, but it would be a service for one: one plate, one spoon, one cup, one... I wasn't hungry anyway.

I could read something. But who would ask me, "What are you laughing at, love?" and kiss me, and look over my shoulder to share the fun. To make it double... Would I ever be able to laugh again?

Or, perhaps, listen to some music? But who would put his hands around me and waltz me around, telling me again and again that he loved me, loved me, loved me..?

Or maybe try taking a nap and lose myself in my dreams? But surely, I wouldn't have as much as a wink in my lonely bed until morning, with no one to give me a passionate embrace...

I didn't know how I was going to keep on living.

Or why I should even bother.

 

** ** **

"This time last year, we already had snow on the ground. It was sunny, too, and cold, nothing like this muddy slush underneath. Everyone is sneezing, noses dripping... Them young'uns, eh? What do they know? Take me, for example--I am never sick! My late wife, god bless her soul..."

I couldn’t even be bothered to pretend I was interested and looked out the window instead, where indeed a gray day was dragging on, the low skies spraying the tired ground with still more rain.

"... ain't no one knew his way around the house like him, she would say. Hands of gold..."

It was my own fault.

What was I doing here, anyway?

Shopping for food in the nearby town again, I stopped by the local post office. Purely by force of habit--not that I needed to send a letter or pick up a paper. In recent years, Kyle always stopped by that place on the way back from the market, the car sagging under the weight of produce and such. Some five years ago, when we finally threw all caution to the wind, he even took out a P.O. box there.

I stopped by the post office, too. Those days, quite a few things happened purely on autopilot, and I was now paying the price for having struck a conversation with a stranger for no good reason. Happy to have someone to shoot the breeze with, the elderly clerk went out of his way to sell himself as a real catch, a cut above all those "feeble young'uns."

Were I with Kyle, I wouldn't have to listen to any of that...

"So, where did you say you lived?"

With a dry smile--what did he think I was, stupid?--I calmly told him again that all I wanted was to check Kyle's mail. Upon hearing a man's name, the clerk puckered his brow and hurried away into the back room.

It had been just over two months since Kyle died and he still continued receiving letters. Some needed advice, some a recommendation... I replied to them all, telling them that the best hunter around... well, wasn't around anymore. Little by little, the flood of requests dried up.

The last couple of times, I left that sorry place empty-handed. Maybe it was time I stopped coming at all.

"A parcel!" the man said proudly, as if he was personally responsible for the feat. He handed me a bloated package wrapped in thick brown paper.

Surprised, I raised my brow, instinctively weighing the package in my hand. It was hefty. What could it possibly be?

The clerk's heavy stare interrupted the train of my thought. He was clearly about to ask me if I was doing anything special tonight.

"Thank you," I said before he could go ahead with it and proceeded straight to the door.

It was only back in the car, throwing the package onto the seat next to me, that I noticed there was no return address on it.

It was almost dark when I made it home. The final stretch through the caves, which was also the hardest, always left me totally beat. Clutching at the steering wheel and staring intently into the darkness sliced and diced by the jumping headlights, I longingly thought of the times when I sat in the passenger seat and it was Kyle who was driving--calm and sometimes even smiling back at me.

The trunk that used to be stuffed to the brim with provisions and all those other little things that made life more enjoyable was now barely a quarter full. Still, it took me a long time to carry my purchases into the house, since the stairs went high and I... I was all alone.

The wind roamed the rooms of the house like it owned the place. It always did. I was no longer being startled by the knocking of window frames, or doors banging shut by a sudden gust, or clothes thrown on the floor. Now, too, as I heard the rustling sound behind, I turned to it slowly, without a tinge of fear. A brown edge showed from under the wrapping paper undulating in the wind.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot!

I put a small crate of apples away and picked up the package. Inside, there was something solid. A book?

The dark cardboard wouldn't budge, and I had to use a knife. Suddenly, not quite sure why, I froze, looking at yet another layer, all white, showing through the neat cut I made.

How silly! What was I afraid of?

Yet my hands lingered, putting off the solution to the mystery by a second... by two... by ten... Finally, I summoned enough courage and pulled at the upper envelope. Then I stopped, as soon as a line of large letters revealed itself: ...ana Snowe.

Snowe? Who was that?

Lazily, I took my time sorting through memories, one by one, until it finally dawned on me: me, that's who it was! Through the thick of time, my maiden name left behind in the distant past seemed barely perceptible, and so was my family, the young me and...

Moira. The handwriting belonged to her.

My fingers trembling, I tore the white envelope open, revealing a note in her sprawling hand.

My dear friend! There were times he would have killed me for what I did, but now it is all different. He is different. What you have in your hands is Kristoff's diary. I am convinced you need to read it, and then you could at least understand him, if not forgive. Yours forever, Moira.

I put the note away and took out... a book? A notebook? The exquisite cover of dark, matte leather had no embossing or other decorations on it, albeit the pages were gilt-edged. My heart gave a painful jerk, recognizing him...

And then there was no more air. Helplessly, like a fish expelled by a storm from its natural habitat, I was drawing in one full chestful after another, yet felt no relief. My fingers convulsively clutched the leather cover.

Did I really need to read this?

Suddenly, I was angry at Moira. Why did she do it? So many years had passed! Finally, I forgot! Well, OK, almost forgot. But it didn't mean I now needed to...

Not quite aware of what I was doing, I brought the diary close to my face and closed my eyes. The exquisite noble smell of the leather had a whiff of another scent in it, so familiar... fiery... so alive in my memory despite the three decades that had passed since. Despite everything.

I opened the first page.

 

** ** **

We are chasing a mirage again. All we have is some legends. Sometimes I feel I am a gullible hick, believing fairy tales about some special people whose blood can cure us.

But looking at Moira I realize only a miracle can now save her. If this miracle exists, I will find it.

** ** **

We keep on looking. So far, there's nothing to show for it. Moira is surviving, at best, and, defeatist that I am, I can't help but think that if it keeps going like this, it would be better to just put a stop to it all. I am not going to let her simply survive. She was born to live, to thrive...

Yet, sometimes I am almost certain it is all for naught.

** ** **

I decided to fund the development of a new science: genetics. Maybe I shouldn't have. What those madmen in lab coats told me made no sense at all.

On the other hand, does my entire life make much sense? We cannot afford to ignore a single chance, however small.

** ** **

Finally, a step forward. The gene we need has been identified using ancient samples. If nothing else, we now know that the legends are true. There's now the "small" matter of finding a carrier.

** ** **

Poor Moira just had another setback. Sometimes I wonder if she will last long enough for us to find a cure.

** ** **

Here's a happy entry! We have found a carrier. Even though the gene we need in him is latent, this is still an unmitigated success. We will keep monitoring his family, since chances are some of his children will inherit the active gene.

** ** **

I saw him--a typical human who was all too eager to give up his unborn child in exchange for the opportunities we could provide.

Jenob asked me to clear any and all obstacles for this man. Well, all right, even though I'd simply take what we need without any such "courtesies."

** ** **

There was yet another meeting. As always, the Council agreed with me; they know better than rush to conclusions. Adamas alone wouldn't accept the obvious. He thinks it is all my fault. I am not going to tell him any different--why do I have to justify myself? In any case, I do not have any soft spots, and he can't hurt me.

** ** **

Finally! It happened! A girl was born, and she has the active gene. Jenob says he just can't make sense of her blood, and even I can tell this baby is different from other humans.

The few sources we have at our disposal are unanimous: her blood will be good enough for our purposes some time by her eighteenth birthday. That's not too long, and to be on the safe side we will take our time.

Apparently, fatherhood limits one's ability to think logically. Now Jenob suggests we leave the girl with her family until she is ready. I never thought he could be so sentimental. It's silly if you ask me, but if we guard her properly there shouldn't be any problems.

On the spur of the moment, I told him I would personally take part in the security arrangements. Naturally, he was very surprised and all the happier for it. Now the real question is why on earth did I do that?

I think they are going to call the girl Diana. A beautiful name.

** ** **

With great longing, I remember the times when the mere thought of hunting put me on edge. Now it's but a ritual. There's nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing to really make me tick. It has all become just a bodily function.

I am still seeing Limogee, but she is starting to suspect something. She keeps asking me how on earth I can move so fast and so silently.

Poor woman indeed! Afraid of my anger, she even stopped seeing other men. That may not necessarily be a bad thing, but jealousy has nothing to do with it. I couldn't care less what she does when I am not around--even though it is kind of fun to watch her shudder when I show up at her place in the middle of the night. I must admit it has been a while since I let myself be so sloppy. I have no idea what's wrong with me.

** ** **

I can't but notice how stupid humans can be. The Snowes decided that it would be best if they forgot altogether they had a daughter. Those idiots, they fail to see that their indifference constantly puts Diana in danger. What happened to that angel she used to be in her childhood?

She is very much afraid of me, and it makes me laugh. It's so strange, it's as if she can feel my presence and even looks back at me when I come too close.

** ** **

Sure, I could have put it all off for a while. But no, I just had to come on that very day. I guess I wanted to see her reaction. Her constant fear of me is beginning to annoy me.

What am I doing? Me, who has always considered myself an epitome of tolerance! And now I want to harm some underage girl who would have been living in a dumpster had it not been for us!

When Diana began crying, I was very close to leaving and giving her a break. Then she raised her eyes at me and I changed my mind--they were full of hatred. Even begging for leniency, she just can't submit! Silly rebel, you were destined to bow down and you will soon understand it. Just you wait until your blood is ready to be used--that'll be the end of your life of luxury.

** ** **

I met one of her girlfriends. Diana herself is trying to ignore me, but it doesn't work very well. She thinks her strained little smile can deceive me. I see how angry she is and I like it.

I wonder why.

Her friend's blood smells so good! I should arrange for her to go abroad so that Diana wouldn't ask any questions. Such as, for example, oh, and what happened to my friend so and so? What's the girl's name, anyway?

** ** **

I am watching her every day, and it beats me where I even find time for that. I am sick and tired now of seeing things I am not supposed to see!

** ** **

Tonight is the annual ball. Moira is worried, as always, but she needs to understand that now it's but another ritual. I have long stopped being afraid. It's just a ritual.

** ** **

Diana has changed.

She is strikingly beautiful and has a very strong character. She even learned how to hide her fear. When she lies down obediently, I sometimes catch myself thinking certain things I find hard to resist. What is even more surprising is that I actually am resisting.

I like watching her when she sleeps, but for the most part I simply keep her hypnotized longer. Then the fear in her eyes doesn't stop me from touching her. When she comes to, she doesn't feel particularly energized, but I may be a little hooked now...

It looks like her blood is almost ready, but I am in no particular hurry to let Jenob know. We've waited for so many years! What's another couple of months?

** ** **

Who does Diana belong to?

** ** **

On the night of her prom, I wanted to see her smile so much, but in the end her parents screwed it all up again. No, she didn't cry. The last time she cried was when her mother left her to die. Back then, she was in fact dying--I could tell even from a distance.

But I still got to see her smiling, even though I was not particularly crazy about what made her smile. She blushed when that little pissant next to her started whispering indecencies into her ear. I am afraid I am going to have to teach him some manners.

I never expected to like holding her close to me. I brought her into the house and scowled (like I haven't for a long time!) at Snowe when he tried to take his daughter away from me. Oh, they'll keep their mouths shut--because that's what I want. Let her sweat a little trying to figure out who it might have been that undressed her and tucked her in. Let's make sure she has no proof--just her tactile memories.

I will bring her over to my place soon. It is important to me now. It would be better if she never suspected anything. For the time being, that is.

Silly thing, she thought I was going to let her drown! I want her to live, and she will live for as long as I need her.

** ** **

Today is a beautiful day--or night, rather. What's even better is that I don't need to watch anyone since Diana is at the hospital, visiting that little sissy who, apparently, she is not altogether indifferent about. How cliche! Judging by how I smacked him up, he is going to stay there a while--and so is she.

Oh, she is going to be all right. The pup is a different story, though. I even feel sorry for him, but it's time Diana understood she's been destined for a different... ahem... purpose.

** ** **

They told her the truth--that they had sold her before she was even born. That she is our, no, scratch that, my property. And that very soon she will lose whatever rights humans think they have.

I won't have much longer to wait--and then she will be by my side.

I told them to double the number of guards, even though I am sure the Snowes have enough common sense not to make any problems for me.

Still, I am glad I have never had any cameras installed in their house. I wouldn't want to see her eyes the moment they told her the truth.

** ** **

I am going to run that entire damn family into the ground! Especially the nice little auntie that dared help Diana escape. She is really getting on my nerves. No, really, she is smiling at me when she sees me. No fear at all--how about that? It's as if she knows something.

Naturally, Diana couldn't escape--not from me, she couldn't! Yet the unexpected thought of what may have happened if she did caught me unawares and prevented me from thinking logically. Otherwise, why would I tell them to deliver her straight to me?

How could I know she'd dare run when I was visiting the food stores?!

And what about then? Even in my presence, she never gave up her urge to resist! So the animal in me broke loose and decided to teach that insolent little girl a lesson.

That was foolish of me. I may have been blinded by my rage, but still, she should never have seen what I showed her... Well, she may hate me all she wants. I think I may even deserve that. Except it's not going to change anything. Either way, all that hatred of hers isn't going to interfere with any of my plans.

** ** **

It was on purpose that I gave her that little hole in the wall rather then the posh guest bedroom Jenob had selected for her. I'll move her there in a few days. Or better yet, let her stay in my room.

Jenob is angry and surprised, asking why on earth I am making her work. Well, I can't even tell myself why. Maybe I simply want to show her who is the boss and make her see how insignificant she really is. At least, I am not afraid to admit that much. Maybe I need to break her, to make her submit... Then again, wasn't it exactly because of that rebel spirit of hers that I even became interested? Why, then?

** ** **

I went to see Sablina a few days ago. She made a scene--I was calling her someone else's names in bed over and over again. Now I am done with her. Good riddance. I have Diana now, so why would I need that other one?

** ** **

I am happy: Moira is feeling better by the day. You can already see our efforts have not been in vain. Besides, could I even imagine that in addition to seeing Moira getting well I'd get an additional gift from fate? And what a gift!

Her blood is, in fact, magical. The taste and the smell of it is beyond compare, but what is even more amazing is the impact it makes. Out of curiosity, I got a sip from Moira today, and it gave me an unexpected energy boost, better than the most successful of hunts.

Still, for me, the allure of her body is a hundred times stronger.

** ** **

Oh, the smell of her!

** ** **

I was trying to convince myself that I couldn't care less what she thinks. On the way to see her, I was sure I was going to go to sleep with my hand around her waist and finally find peace. Merely touching her makes me go bonkers, as if I were a lovesick teen, but she can't understand even that much.

"Anyone but you!"

She kept on saying that... I don't know why it made such an impression on me, but I just can't brush off that intoxicating obsession with her.

And to think that by morning she could have had a completely different life! I would have given her everything she could possibly wish for.

But when she was begging me for more time, I understood that she found me repugnant. That made me livid! I was very close to resorting to violence... Even now, I still keep asking myself how on earth I managed to find the strength to hold back.

** ** **

She surprised me again. Who could have thought that that self-absorbed girl was capable of compassion? It left Moira speechless, and Diana found a loyal friend in her--the kind that is vehemently taking her side in all our disagreements.

And here's yet another surprise. Diana is now spending so much time with Moira that the girl truly reeks of her. As much as I hate to admit how jealous I am, I would really love some of that smell on myself.

** ** **

I have looked through my notes, and they left me speechless. How did it even happen that she took over my entire life? How could I possibly not notice it?

** ** **

Time and again, all my thoughts are returning to her. Sometimes, as if waking up, I realize I am standing in the corner watching her passing by. Or find myself in her room in the middle of the day, inhaling her incomparable aroma, a smile on my face. And I can't seem to do anything about it.

Naturally, I have plenty of time to make her desire me. Sooner or later, she will be mine. There is a different problem, though: I am not so sure that I can wait so long. However, there is a different way.

** ** **

She saw me kiss a human girl who is totally in love with me. She was also very quick to tell who among the humans were my real guests. Smart girl, even though she looked so scared... Alas, not jealous. It's all right, though, I have all eternity.

When she rushed back to the house I could barely restrain myself from running after her. With every new day, I find it harder and harder to control myself.

** ** **

I knew it was going to happen. I just couldn't resist the temptation! Still, I got scared at first, since it took her a long time to fall into a trance. It is so strange, her inner force has become so much stronger... But it doesn't matter, she is mine now. It also felt better than I expected. I could barely break myself off of her before dawn.

I am exhilarated! Now I could be with her at any time!

** ** **

What have I done?! Diana isn't feeling well. In fact, I have never seen her so sick. I can't believe it, was I really so rough? I thought I was uncharacteristically tender.

** ** **

Whatever the reason, my subconscious keeps coming back to that thing she said about care. I only heard it once, but I will remember it forever: "I care about you as I would about your dog. If one of them gets sick, I will try to help. It is my duty. It doesn't mean I like their fangs."

I find it difficult to keep her words inside, but it is even more difficult to write about them in detail. I keep telling myself that she is only a human who has not even had a hundredth of my own time to live. She is nothing. So why did her words hurt me so?

** ** **

I now see what made her so sick. There's no doubt in my mind that this is how her unique system is now reacting to trance. Today I barely touched her, yet she feels just as sick, maybe even worse. Now I have a choice: be with her no more or make her suffer. I don't even know what's worse...

** ** **

I endured for two days without her--and it felt like two years.

I must have gone mad... and if not, I am as close to it as I have ever been.

** ** **

I am trapped.

Seeing how bad Diana feels, I have been full of remorse since morning and kept promising myself I'd leave her alone at least for a few days. Then she'd raise her eyes at me again and I'd realize that she hates me even more than before. It's as if she could feel it and suspected what's going on. But that just can't be!

This look of hers, full of hatred, makes me angrier still and my desire stronger. Barely able to wait until nighttime, I put her into a trance so that I could stay with her until morning. To punish her, too... or punish myself?

** ** **

Each time it's getting more and more difficult to render her unconscious. I fear admitting it to myself that one day, soon enough, I won't be able to do it at all. What am I going to do then?

** ** **

That day is today. Now what?

** ** **

I am always tense, always grumpy. Sometimes I am not even sure anymore what I'd like best: to go to bed with her or to kill her.

The only thing that helps me survive is Moira's improving health. If it keeps on going this way, soon enough we'll be able to forget those centuries of torment.

** ** **

The ball is tonight. Everything is on schedule, but I am feeling restless. I don't want Diana to see it. Especially the hunt. Even if she does know about this annual bash of ours. To be sure, she must have caught whispers about the event's, um, special nature, but it would still be better to see suspicion in her eyes than outright horror.

I told the researcher to mix some sedative into her food. I think that's for the best.

** ** **

I will kill her!!!

And then I'll break every bone in his body and hack him into pieces! Slowly. Oh, no, he won't meet his maker easily! He knows it, too, every time he looks at me he sees his death. It makes me feel so good to hear his heartbeat race--it's music to my ears!

One thing is unclear, though: will I be able to hold back until he is done with his research? This is crucial for Moira's wellbeing, and I must pull myself together. I must!

** ** **

I await his death with great anticipation, and I will take care of it personally. He is more devious than I thought--he scared Diana with those stories of her imminent demise. Silly thing, she believed him, and it is now obvious she is getting ready to run. Didn't her last attempt convince her it's impossible?

Oh, she WILL live. And be mine, too. Even if I have to take measures. They will never dare deny my petition. She is never going to run away from me. I have dissolved myself in her.

** ** **

I will tear her apart!!!

** ** **

I can't believe I am still unable to get on her trail! But never mind, that's just the matter of time--a few days at the utmost. Then I will kill her with my bare hands!

** ** **

One would think I should feel better, what with all those human lives I have cut short in the past few days. Pretty much everyone in sight, that is.

Yet, I seem to be even more furious than before. It is probably for the better that we haven't found her right away. We will tomorrow or the day after. I am not sure I would have been able to hold myself back from killing her on the spot. And that death is just too quick.

** ** **

Twelve days have passed.

On the outside I have regained my cool and stopped taking it out on everyone around me, yet deep down inside the same anxious string is as taut as ever, ready to snap.

I still can't believe she has managed to fool me. And what an idiot I was, too, sitting in the car, all too sure of my sense of smell, while I should have followed a step behind all along!

And how I wanted to wipe out that entire miserable family! To be sure, they had their share of grief... All huddled together--like that would have helped them! It beats me how come they are still alive.

She will pay for everything. And not just she.

I will need to reconsider how much security we have and who we hire to do it. That... scientist... He turned out to be a hunter, and a fairly capable one, too. Moira wasn't able to apprehend him. At least now I have a reasonable explanation of how Diana has managed to evade me. In fact, now I suspect (and I wish I were wrong) that he had managed to visit the lake, and that's not good. I gave the order to find him, but still, Diana remains my top priority.

** ** **

Half a year has passed. No sign of Diana. I can't understand how this is even possible. No one has a better sense of smell than I, but to be on the safe side I have put all my hounds on her trail. Never before has a human been hunted for by so many.

I divided the entire world into squares and keep dashing from one to another, combing country after country. She won't be able to hide forever--I have an eternity on my side!

She will answer to me. For everything.

** ** **

It's been a year now, and I still can't find her. I am desperate. I have to admit that I just don't feel good without her. And it's getting worse.

** ** **

Will I even have the nerve to kill her when I find her?

** ** **

Still not a sign of her. I have not seen her for over two years--an entire eternity.

** ** **

At last!

I have just caught a whiff of her scent! She is closer than I could possibly hope!

I can't believe that in a few short hours I will be holding her in my hands!

** ** **

There's a lousy dozen of miles or so left, and then I 'll be able to touch her. I can't believe my eyes--my fingers are trembling!

It is only now that I understand that the sweet revenge I have been looking forward to is nothing but wishful thinking. If the mere thought of her body next to mine makes me tremble in awe, how could I possibly hurt her?

When, when will I finally see her?

** ** **

Drawn by her scent, I flew as if I truly had wings, counting down the seconds. When I saw her, she was walking down the street, smiling, none the wiser that I was getting close.

She could feel my gaze! All the way down, she was chasing it away, as if it were a fly, trying to brush it off from where it touched her.

She is mine! Forever!

I decided to stay out of sight to check for any possible competition. Wow, that had a totally weird ring to it! What kind of competition could I possibly have? I'd grind anyone into dirt before they knew what hit them. Literally.

** ** **

She has changed so much! Once again, she is a stranger: free, happy... without me. That is what's really driving me nuts! I 've decided to play with her a bit. Refresh her memory.

The fear in her eyes that made it clear she was aware of my presence gave me a rush of perverted pleasure. Yet, I would have paid dearly to see her happy rather than afraid.

Until morning, I have been struggling with my desire to avail myself of her charms the way I used to. Alas, this is no longer possible, but even knowing it too well it took me an inhuman amount of effort to prevent myself from trying. That is not the right way to go!

** ** **

While Diana awaited my verdict, her old hateful fear of the "monster" was all too visible in her eyes. Could she even understand that the "monster's" life in the past two years has been centered on the memories of and the search for her?

I will do everything in my power to make her fear melt away. I will reveal the new me to her. I will give her a world where there is no such thing as impossible. This is my world, of which she is going to be a part. Because that is my wish.

** ** **

She is close, behind this very wall. I can hear her breathing as I am hurriedly writing another entry down for fear of losing this amazing, almost forgotten feeling of being at peace.

She agreed to go with me. I gave her no choice, and I am not at all sorry. Never mind that at the moment she hates her condition... Who better than me to know how fickle human feelings can be?

** ** **

Diana is home. At last!

I never even tried going to bed, knowing that sleep would be impossible. Once her breathing became even, I simply froze nearby, enjoying the bliss--she was asleep in my bed!

** ** **

That damned hunter! I hate him even worse now! How could he possibly take up so much room in her heart? Just because he is human? I'd settle for a mere half of the tears she spilled on his account!

It's for the better, though. Let her think he is dead. For my part, I'll do anything I possibly can to make sure her tears weren't in vain... I wish they found him already!

** ** **

No matter how many times I vowed to learn patience, I understand it is a fool's task. I should have waited, but once again I got carried away.

To be sure, my outburst proved to be quite useful. How delightful it felt, to have her run after me and beg! For the first time ever, she needed me for something!

It is so strange that she is willing to sacrifice her principles to save the life of some lowly servant girl. Still, I am happy that in the heat of my fury I had enough common sense not to waste the chance I've been given. It's a great deal, too: the worthless life of that wretched offender for a concession from Diana. I now have the feeling my hot temper with the servants will help me take plenty more steps, getting closer and closer... and still closer to her!

Yet, no matter how much I want to take her in my arms right here and now, and never let go, I am not going to rush things. She has nowhere else to go. Eternity is on my side.

** ** **

She has lost all of her vanity that I found so disheartening early on in her life. At this point, I can't even tell for sure whether it's a good thing or not.

She likes my house. What I really didn't expect was that she would take over most of the household chores, and with apparent gusto, too. I hope I am reading it right!

Once again, I have to admit how much Diana has changed. She has become a woman.

** ** **

I swore I would not cheat and instead pursue her the way humans do. Yet, as always, the desire to touch her won over. And if you yield once, there's no way in hell you'd be able to stop. As an excuse, I kept telling myself that those are light, weightless touches that humans can't even feel, but apparently she is different from other humans--this way, too--and can still feel them in some totally unimaginable way.

As a result, the pursuit has become a game. Diana can tell my presence right away. It gives me such great joy!

I like to see her angry--or thinking she's angry. I love giving her gifts, surprising her, challenging her imagination....

I am acting like a lovesick teen, and not ashamed to admit it. On the contrary, it seems that my youth has finally come into its own.

Either way, Diana is so beautiful! The most beautiful woman of all that I have known in all my years!

** ** **

Looking back at the events of the past, I begin to realize that I have taken a wrong course from the get-go. I tried to get what I wanted by force. Never before would I have believed that simple steps and patience would give me what I couldn't even dream of.

How different her eyes are now when she looks at me! There's now plenty of interest in them... maybe even some warmth. When we walk in the park, she takes me by the elbow herself. No more fear! Yesterday, when we were watching a movie, she fell asleep and put her head on my shoulder. For a long time, I remained frozen, afraid to scare off that feeling of happiness--so more precious for being totally new.

She is my treasure and I will never let go of her again. Not for the world! She will remain by my side forever.

** ** **

I would have done so much more for her! Naturally, I took quite a risk, but it was all worth it. Diana was worth it.

How could I possibly know that she would learn things at the opera she was not supposed to know? Yet, she surprised me again and somehow, in some unexplainable way, got to the bottom of what was going on. What the true role was of the people on stage, who the audience were and that the show was not going to be over when it was over...

Nor did I expect her words about trust to have such an effect on me. Still, I have no regrets. After all, I was the one who made a tradition of these shows, so it's up to me to change the rules. Diana is definitely worth changing some things over.

** ** **

I have told myself a thousand times that she will be mine--all the while remaining oblivious to how many shades of meaning this word can have. Dozens of times, I possessed her body without her consent, not realizing it never made her completely mine. Now, burning with unrequited desire, without so much as the benefit of a kiss, I am watching her become truly mine--more and more so with every new day.

** ** **

It was an innocent joke to begin with, and it all worked out so beautifully!

I never told the Snowes what they would be coming to my place for. No, scratch that. I never told them anything at all. I wanted them to learn for themselves what it must have felt like for Diana--the way from her safe haven at home to a completely different life.

When I took Diana away, I left that stupid, cocksure bunch to swim on their own, without the benefit of my patronage. At first. Still, without Jenob managing their accounts they sank so much sooner than could be expected.

I could never understand how she could possibly still have a soft spot for them, after all their neglect and treachery. Still, at the moment it comes quite handy. I have to admit, I was appalled by the lack of manners her father and her brother exhibited. I never expected them to be able to say no to me so quickly--just a few hours after they prepared to die.

What's most important though is that Diana saw me as her family's savior--yet another step to bring me closer to her.

** ** **

Diana doesn't know how to choose friends. But is that even possible, on principle?

Frailty, thy name is woman! Naturally, I expected something of the kind, but they are getting more brazen by the day. One of them even tracked me down to my office. That miserable bimbo! I have never brought women anything but grief. That's the way it has always been.

Yet, with Diana it will be different.

Diana is jealous, and it makes her so beautiful! Eyes shining, hands clenched into those adorable little fists... Once again, I am glad I am not rushing it. How else would I know it so clearly that she is not altogether indifferent about me? Seeing her jealous is a true delight! Even though what she may be feeling now is a mere shadow of what I have once experienced myself.

How naive she is, thinking that after searching for her for months and lusting after her for years I may even contemplate giving her up for someone else.

** ** **

I think that I have been looking for her all my life. That I have spent all those centuries waiting for her, and her alone. That I have finally found that last part of myself that was still missing. She will remain by my side forever. I will give her all eternity.

** ** **

Here's a function I've been apprehensive about for a long time. Sitting in the empty room all alone now, listening to seconds ticking away, I keep asking myself what is going to happen. What are the chances I will break my nascent happiness? What will Diana's reaction be to our entertainment?

What a drag it is to feel anxious and afraid! Yikes! It feels all too human.

** ** **

When I saw her in that scarlet dress, smiling to me alone, I realized I did not really care if they gave me the permission or not. Whether they like it or not, I will keep her by my side--and keep her forever.

Was any one of all those people in the past centuries more worthy of the honor than her?

And that demeanor of hers! She was a queen, born to shine above the crowd! Not even her heart betrayed her anxiety.

Nor did our dancing scare her off! I tried to see that innocent game through her eyes and immediately recalled how enchanted I felt at my own first ball.

The thing that worried me most was the hunt. I would like to protect her from that particular part of my life. I even selected the ugliest bunch of rascals to be the victims to somehow put it all in a better light for her, never really expecting it to make any difference. I was right, it wasn't something that was easy for her to watch. But then, consciously or not, she began counting down seconds before the start, along with everyone else. I could tell her voice clearly among that chorus and understood that I had won. The permission is now as good as granted!

Yet, that day gave me way more than that.

I was afraid that with my good looks now spoiled she wouldn't want me. That her growing passion for me was nothing but an attraction to the beautiful facade. My face is now ruined, but I am not afraid any more.

I have her "yes" now. She is mine! Forever!

** ** **

I knew I was going to set her on fire. I was certain I would hear Diana scream my name in throes of pleasure. Yet I never expected such a profoundly rich symphony of scent, such an unbelievable blast of sensual delight. What a surprise!

** ** **

That was also the day I lost a friend and acquired an enemy, irreversibly. Adamas. The way he looked at her, he signed his own death sentence there and then.

Why do I keep thinking they have met before? And not just in passing, either. Where and how could they meet? These are all the questions that keep bugging me, but I am not going to ask her about it. Of course not. Why reveal a weakness? After all, I could be wrong.

He is envious, I know. All he had to do was look into her eyes full of tears on my account (finally!), full of unmitigated, unashamed sympathy in the presence of all those witnesses. She made it perfectly clear how she felt.

** ** **

It used to be that if I was happy, Diana suffered. When she had it her way, I felt hurt. There were times I even wondered if the two things could coexist at all. Now we are happy together, and I don't think it could possibly feel any better.

Now I understand that what I used to steal from her before was but a mere droplet of happiness. What I have now is an ocean of joy, set in motion by the tides of her desire.

** ** **

She has just told me she wants to go see her family. Even thought I had no objections whatsoever, I still got an earful from her.

I didn't lie when I said I wanted to protect her, since there is a very real chance she may be attacked.

But she is right: I can't just trust her. Not yet. I am just not ready to take the risk and let her go alone. How would I go on living if she disappeared?

** ** **

There's something I can't understand.

The guards were adamant there were no strangers in her parents' house. I only hire the best, true professionals. They don't make such rookie mistakes.

And yet, I swear I smelled Adamas on her hands. A very light, barely perceptible whiff--as if coming from a single casual touch, a handshake... or an intimate kiss. I searched her entire body, every nook and cranny of it. They haven't been intimate. But she had his scent on her hands.

I will kill him! Tomorrow! But before he dies he will tell me everything about what's been going on between the two of them. Every little detail of it.

** ** **

Never before has my car seemed to be so sluggish. Never before have I felt such an urge for speed. And blood.

Once again, she smells of Adamas, and this time it's not just her hands. Her entire body reeks of him! Everywhere!

No matter how hard I tried to wash it off to avoid suffocating, to purge that offensive odor with my own, it was no use. That stench will be there forever!

The guards are saying Diana has spent the entire day with Moira.

I still do not understand. Should I replace the guards? Or am I becoming a senile idiot?!

** ** **

I look at my hand and can't believe what has happened. It's as if this extremity of mine has suddenly acquired a mind of its own and decided to take revenge on the traitor, the very same person I was ready to die for. Diana was just as surprised as I was, since she must have gotten used to getting away with things others would pay for with their blood. Did she think she was going to get away with it?!

Looking into her shocked, candid eyes, I suddenly realized, in all sober horror of it, how well she had played her role up to that point. How offended she was by the ever-present guards, by the lack of trust. And all she wanted all along was to sneak out of the house to get together with Adamas! How she bugged me with that freedom thing! And yet, barely do I set foot out the door when she runs to see "her parents"! At five o'clock in the morning! The guards are out! Those idiots have shit for brains!

How could I be so gullible?

Well, never mind, I did take my time... explaining it to her... how upset I was. I was looking forward to walking up those stairs, making sure she felt every sharp edge, every bump, every corner... Yes, I am a monster! And she had better remember that!

And Moira, how strong she has become, that rotten egg! I never thought she could be so fierce. A guardian angel, no less! What does she know? I saw it all with my own eyes! Excuses? What excuses? Let her stay under guard a while. I have no intention to listen to all her accusations. She is smart and a smooth talker, and she will surely try to assuage my fury. Who knows, she may even succeed!

Diana is in the dungeon--where she belongs. I won't be ready... to see her face any time soon!

** ** **

Patience has never been my strong suit, and what little I did have is running out. Like I needed that extra pain in the neck on top of it all--Moira with all her screaming! Ooh, I have beaten Diana almost to death. Yeah, right! I have only hit her once. Barely touched her, too. Well, OK, maybe she did get a few extra bruises as I dragged her. Never mind that I wanted to kill her at first!

To be sure, I will eventually let her out, but that still doesn't help me with the main issue: what am I going to do then?

** ** **

It looks like Moira has gone totally nuts. She keeps on yelling "Diana is dying!" and launches herself at anyone in sight. Keeps bugging me with her questions, too, demanding a detailed account of how exactly Diana has betrayed me. It's as if she is mocking me! I wish I could forget it all... but I can't.

** ** **

Some day, I will be able to erase her from my memory altogether. I did it before, and I will do it again. One more, one less, big deal. That Diana... she is just like everybody else.

** ** **

I've been restless all day and had no peace. I don't even know what to think anymore! Today, Moira finally cornered me and made me talk to her.

When I told her about Adamas' odor, she raised her eyes at me and confirmed what the guards had told me, swearing she never left Diana's side that day, not for a second. To prove my point, I hurried into the dressing room and threw Diana's clothes that reeked of him at Moira's feet. At that point, she began screaming it was all a setup, talking hurriedly of some scared-looking sales girl at the store, the newly bought clothes that she thought Diana tried on that night and the plastic bags that had apparently been tightly sealed to conceal the smell when they were brought into the house. She spoke of a lot of things, and of the multiple insults she threw at me "dimwit," "idiot" and "damn you to hell" were the nicest.

Then, sensing my hesitation, she continued building on her initial success, screaming that I had destroyed my own happiness, that I was losing Diana irreversibly with each minute that passed, and that I had to drop to my knees before her, begging for forgiveness while she was still alive.

What a bunch of baloney!

The worst of it was that she planted a seed of doubt in me: what if Diana really was innocent? Oh, how I wished she were! That was the problem--I wanted to believe her. But what about what I saw?

No, I am not going to let Diana out until I am sure. Moira got what she wanted: I am going to investigate the matter. Right away.

** ** **

She is gone. I can't believe I lost her again. Again!!!

I have just learned the truth. Diana is innocent. What have I done?! For centuries, I counseled others, telling them not to rush to conclusions. Look at me now...

It took me less than a day to find it all out in detail. So quickly... Why was I in such a hurry to hurt her then?

Once Adamas' trusted lackey answered all my questions, I rushed down to the dungeon, as if I were swept by a hurricane.

And she was gone. Again.

Moira didn't even try to conceal it that she was the one who had arranged her escape. Feeling my hands on her throat, she only said: "Come with me."

So I went with her.

She took me along, saying "Look," pointing at all the corners, steps and doorsills.

There were quite a few of them, and I lost count.

"You touched her body so many times that you should know better than anyone how fragile it is. Now look!"

What have I done! She was indeed dying, and Moira was simply saving her life. What have I done?!!!

I feel so tired. It's as if I have the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. I am so tired.

Diana...

** ** **

I will bring her back. She will be found soon... they will be. That's the problem--it's them. And it is driving me crazy. Again.

** ** **

Today I finally told myself to take a deep breath and try assessing the situation objectively. All this fervent passion inside of me only makes the search effort more difficult.

So far, we have not yet managed to get on their trail, which indicates a hunter--a smart one. Yes, he may be smart, but I think I know of a way to turn this advantage of his into a detriment. We will make a play on his professional interests. Our own play.

** ** **

I have prepared so many words: good, tried-and-true, impeccable and precise words... Yet, once I saw her, they all disappeared, leaving me speechless.

Once again, she is all different: bitter, frighteningly cold and detached. At the same time, she is the same familiar woman I love, all mine. And so utterly, hopelessly out of my reach. What have I done!

She threw words at me as she would knives--driving them deeper, making sure to inflict as much pain as she could. The pain I deserve.

I gave her time to get used to the idea that I had found her. Then... it will be easier. I just don't believe it won't. It just has to be.

I fear I am actually the one who needs time more--to get my bearings, to come back to this world from the dead...

** ** **

I can't believe it! It happened again! How can it possibly be that something I seem to hold so tightly in my hand keeps evading me again and again?

The hunter spirited Diana away again--this time by way of an underground tunnel. Really, who could have thought there would be a underground tunnel in that rundown old shack, leading all the way through the mountain?

He was not supposed to come back--not on that day, not in a month. I now began having doubts about my people. Who tipped him off? How did he avoid the trap? He must have turned around at midpoint and gone back, or he wouldn't have made it in time. He was not supposed to come back.

I was so certain... Once again, I shouldn't have been.

** ** **

There's nothing else I could think of except to tap the humans. Everything this world has to offer in terms of search and investigations will be put to use: from the lowliest beat cop up to the highest ranks. Even the unwashed masses will have a carrot dangling in front of them.

I couldn't care less about the apparent smirks on the faces of some in our own society as they watch me running around helplessly. They can question my sanity all they want. They simply cannot understand the role Diana has come to play in my life. I will find her no matter what. As to forgiveness--don't I have all eternity to beg her for that?

** ** **

I am getting close.

I know everyone he talks to and where all his safe houses are. His account numbers, too, except here I am late again: they have all been drained already.

I am getting close. How about you try running now?

** ** **

They are zigzagging like hares but it's not going to help them. There are just too many hounds on their trail. Reports of their movements are coming in almost every minute. Countless invisible eyes spot them here or there more and more often.

Yes, he is doing his best, and he may indeed be a professional in his line of work. I, on the other hand, have something he just won't be able to stand up against--unlimited financial resources. Sometimes this wicked paper the humans have invented helps solve problems that do not lend themselves very well to other methods. It seems that one of this hunter's "friends"--someone who still remembers his father--happens to be in complete agreement with me on this issue.

The results speak for themselves: now I know where they are heading. We don't need to chase them any longer. All we have to do is wait.

** ** **

I just don't understand why I haven't done it yet. Isn't it obvious that had I changed her the last time we met she wouldn't have been able to go anywhere? Why wait? I will change her as soon as she is back in my hands. I'll make her my equal. To hell with their permission! Either way, they will give it to me in a couple of months. Who is going to dare say no to me?

Then I will have all eternity to beg her forgiveness. I'll do whatever it takes. Sooner or later, she will forgive me.

** ** **

Today, I am dangerous.

Well, I am always dangerous.

But today, I am particularly bad.

** ** **

I thought I was rich--I had the entire infinity of time within my reach. Presumptuous fool!

I am a pauper.

** ** **

Once she promised me she'd kill me if she ever had a chance. Then, when she finally got one, she spared me. She shouldn't have. I am dead, anyway.

Unable to reach me, vindictive death took Diana away from me instead. What do I have left to live for now?

Overwhelmed with my grief, I never even felt the hunter behind me, and he used his chance to paralyze me. Me, the invincible! Oh, I was weaker than a baby at that moment. He could have killed me. I would have known true death. For the first time ever--had it not been for Diana...

She did not want me dead. Why?

Chances are, in her eyes I did deserve to die. It would have made things easier for her, too--to be able to get away and live as she saw fit. In peace, with no regard for what I wanted. Have no more fear, stop running. Be happy, too... without me. In her own way.

Why, then?

** ** **

I was dragging my feet, enjoying that illusion. She is mine... for another minute... another moment... another...

My pen touched the paper and wrote "You are free"--as if carving every letter of it on my chest. Forever.

Never before have I been so sure I was doing the right thing. Never before has it cost me so much.

Yet, watching her read those words, watching the tears spill from her incredulous eyes, hearing her scream "Yes! I am free!" I smiled, unwittingly, and whispered along, "Yes... you are free... my love." Feeling every letter of it burning my chest.

She changed--again! It was if she had grown wings--strong and bright, all shining with happiness.

I did the right thing...

As she came closer to the edge and looked down, for a second I thought she was going to jump and fall to her death among the rocks down below. Then I remembered the wings. She now had something to prop her up and keep her flying.

I did the right thing.

She was no longer mine. She was with someone else--someone she has chosen herself, her equal who was going to stay aflame with her to the end. Even my scent evaporated off her body. Forever and ever.

I will never see her again.

** ** **

She is everywhere: in the library, reading a book by the window; in the garden, her dress fluttering in between distant trees; laughing and singing in the bathroom, sleeping in my bed. She is everywhere I look. And I thought I was never going to see her again!

Was it ever possible for her to just disappear from my world?

** ** **

Here comes another lackluster day that will bring her a step closer to death. One that she is not going to spend with me.

** ** **

Coming to terms with this is beyond me. Anything but her demise!

** ** **

This morning a miracle happened: Moira spoke to me. I must look worse than I thought. I told her about Diana.

Moira is still crying.

** ** **

I decided to do what humans do when saying their goodbyes to a loved one forever: discard the deceased's things. I thought that would help me accept the inevitable. Find closure.

I even left the wing not to see the removal. But you can't deceive yourself. Feeling her scent leaving my home, I couldn't help it and rushed after the movers, telling them to bring it all back.

I don't know what to do.

** ** **

I canceled the ball. The community is flabbergasted. I couldn't care less.

** ** **

I am now almost used to the monotony of days replacing each other. If someone had told me before I was going to be bored with my endless life, I would have laughed in their face. Or, more likely, consider it an insult.

What I really cannot accept is that what I want is impossible. Get used to the idea that I cannot bring her back no matter how much I want it. Naturally, not in the physical sense. All I have to do is give the order, and she will be by my side tonight. Just give the order...

Or better yet, I'd go myself.

I must not think about it, for it will drive me mad... I must not!

** ** **

She is alive.

** ** **

No one comes to see me anymore. What's the point? I do whatever has to be done, sign papers and such, but why bother seeing those annoying old faces, making meaningless chitchat?.. It's just routine. It makes no sense. Life makes no sense. Without her.

** ** **

What was I thinking? Oh, yes... taking my mind off it. But I still don't know what I was thinking about having that stupid cow put on one of Diana's dresses. What was I thinking, jumping happily at a somewhat similar face and hair? Did I really hope to deceive myself?

** ** **

She is alive.

** ** **

Today a servant accidentally spilled something on me. Well, he is still around. I suspect he is not even particularly fearful. It's been a while since I sent anyone to the dogs. I can't forget how adamant she used to be about protecting them. This is insane, but it feels like every time I kill one of them, I hurt Diana... even from a distance... such a great distance... I must be losing my mind.

** ** **

She is still alive.

** ** **

They say no one's irreplaceable. That is a lie.

** ** **

My agents came back yesterday. She is alive. Still alive.

** ** **

She is alive. But what will they tell me in a year?

** ** **

The sleuths will come back tomorrow. What news will they bring?

 

Epilogue(Kristoff)

** ** **

It has been almost a year since Moira stole my diary and sent it to her. That insufferable girl! A hundred years ago or so... no, scratch that, I know exactly how many years ago, to a minute... and knowing I couldn't take it out on Moira herself, I would have massacred a couple of dozen of servants and felt better. This time, I didn't even get angry. What do I care?

Naively, she thinks she can help me. Moira just doesn't understand that no words are strong enough. I have already tried everything human language has to offer to beg for forgiveness. It's been so many years, but I still remember Diana's icy stare as if it all just happened a minute ago. Moira doesn't even suspect that the only three words that touched her heart, frozen with resentment and hurt, were "You are free." They were also the words that deprived my endless life of any point or reason.

I gave her what she had been dreaming about so passionately. No. I only gave back what I stole. But man, did that hurt!

I don't know what to do.

I start every one of my days with a question: what if? Like a complex math problem, it requires my full attention. Sometimes an answer comes to me almost immediately--a long-awaited, much-coveted, tempting eureka. As such, it is always wrong, and I go back to the question, turning it over this way and that in my mind, afraid to leave something out, or fail to consider it, or make a mistake...

By nighttime, I am sure I've found the answer: no.

I am in a hopeless labyrinth. Somewhere out there, on the outside, there is a world rejoicing in her presence. Here, in the darkness of my despair, the walls are full of tunnels leading to nowhere. I know there is a way out. At least, there should be one. Yet, checking one branch after another of the decision tree, over and over again, all I find is dead ends. Whatever I do or say, I understand it will not bring her back. Tormented by my despair, I keep looking for a way out, to her, only to find myself staring at yet another impenetrable wall.

But there is a way out!

I believe that. If you woke up from a coma after thirty years, how could you not believe in miracles?

Fate, in a burst of uttermost generosity, decided to give me back the life that has been taken away from me. I would never have thought it would be delivered by the man I hated like no other before him!

Since that day, recreated in my impeccable memory millions of times, his visit became a beacon in the predawn ocean, reminding me there's hope...

And there is a way out.

 

** ** **

He was coming close, enveloped in a cloud of her scent. I could feel her kisses on his lips, her touches on his hands, the long strands of her hair intermingling with his. That his entire body was so saturated with her scent was screaming in my face, teasing me with how close they were. What was even worse, they had been making love that very morning.

I was immediately reminded of being alive. A veil of hatred came over me, painting everything around me crimson and black. Suddenly, I was thirsty for blood--his blood! It was as if a long-forgotten smoldering amber flared up. I caught myself succumbing to a centuries-old, tried-and true habit--testing the tips of my fangs with my tongue, finding them perfectly sharp, as always. All I had to do was attack...

Killing him would be child's play. Pfft, yet another ant under my foot that could manage a pathetic bite at worst.

But how could I leave her without her anchor? Who would she be aflame with?

Exercising a tremendous amount of willpower, I forced the tightly wound spring inside of me to relax.

How dared he! Why did he come? What else did he need from me--he who took my most prized possession from me long ago?

He came in, and as their two intertwined scents hit me in earnest, blind rage came over me again, blocking the rest of the world out. For a moment, I was not sure I was going to be able to hold back. Telling myself again and again that it was all for her sake, I concentrated on the details of this unwelcome visitor's appearance to help take my mind off my sudden obsession--the burning desire to have me a drink of his blood.

Kyle grew older. The inexorable march of time carved deep lines into his face, took away the luster of his eyes, and robbed his body of the assured precision of motion that only the young enjoyed.

Feeling superior, I grinned. That baby... no, a mere fetus, when compared to my own lifespan, was already approaching sunset--while I, the oldest of the old, was still full of vigor, handsome and... young. Oh, the irony of it all!

Then I spotted a similar superior grin on his own face. Suddenly, I didn't feel like deriding fate anymore. After all, Diana remained with him--at her own free will. His old age was no reason to ridicule him. They all grew old.

Diana, too...

Unwittingly, I began picturing in my mind the effects those past decades may have had on her and paid dearly for the exercise, almost giving a moan of anguish. Damn it! After so many years, I should have come to grips with the idea. On second thought, what were those thirty years in the infinite ocean of my life? A drop in the bucket. Still, have I ever had any other thirty years that felt like centuries?

We skipped the greetings: neither of us wished the competitor good health or a good day. We only stared at each other with revived deep hatred--he an insignificant ant, I the most powerful creature in the world.

It is strange how these words, "the most powerful," used to produce a tempest of emotions inside of me. Enchanted by their magic, I pushed hard to prove it to the world and to myself that no one could rival my power. That I was the true ruler of them all!

Now I would not hesitate to cede this title and everything it involved to Kyle in exchange for his precious life with Diana.

I ached to ask him about her, to learn anything I could, such as whether she was in good health, or needed anything, or felt bored out there in the boondocks, or whether she was happy. Yet, I was not going to demean myself and instead, proud of my unbelievable poise, simply asked him:

"What brings you to my home?"

"Necessity."

But of course! His very presence here was proof that necessity helped him overcome his fear of me. To come here, to my house, past the scowling guards, and demand a meeting with me! Apparently, there was something he needed very badly.

Beating down the insurmountable urge to just rip his throat out in a single thrust and finally quench my excruciating jealousy, I pointed at an armchair and took a seat myself in a matching one across from him. My body moved with the speed of lightning, making Kyle shudder. I didn't bother hiding the grin on my face; there was little enough left of his old precise reflexes of a hunter.

Holding on to the armrests, as if nursing a bad back, he slowly lowered himself down onto the seat.

An old man, indeed, I thought, contemptuous, but cut myself short right away. There were more important matters to contemplate. Like, what had brought him here.

A pause ensued. Frowning, he looked straight at me, in his usual annoying manner no other human could ever muster, and I could tell he was summoning up the courage for something that had to be very difficult for him to say.

"You see, Kristoff, the thing is that Diana will soon be alone."

Was he sick? It was strange since his odor was clean. In fact, he was in great physical shape for his age. Maybe he was not talking about illness? What was it, he was no longer able to provide for her in his golden years? Did he come to ask me for help? No, that would be unlikely, his visit hardly had the air of lowly begging.

Of course I would help her... when she was alone. The real issue was how I could possibly hold myself back from rushing to see her... when she was left alone. It would only make it worse, seeing how time had destroyed her, pushing her closer to the end of her life.

There was nothing I could do!

About anything. Never mind that I could not give her eternal life, I failed to even keep her over those years and beg for forgiveness! I was powerless! I still couldn't even come to terms with that fact.

"Tell me, Kristoff, how is life treating you?"

At first I thought I misheard him. Was he out of his mind? Was he suicidal?

Even unvoiced, those questions must have been clearly present in my burning gaze, but he ignored them and continued, with strange persistence.

"Tell me, did you find someone to replace Diana?"

Was he mocking me? To be sure, the old man must have lost his marbles! Well, such things happened...

To replace her? Years passed before I could even admit it to myself that she was my everything. An ordinary human woman. My love for her started with an obsession and ended up in total insanity--a manic desire to bring her back no matter what. Like a prized possession... That was why I was still in the doldrums.

Did he expect me to admit to that?

Nodding compassionately, as if he could read my thoughts, Kyle nodded. Then, he suddenly leaned forward, his piercing eyes looking straight at me.

"Just tell me, yes or no?"

"No," I squeezed out, barely keeping my calm. It was all for her sake.

In another moment, I was going to break his neck in one lethal thrust and then regret it. Or not.

He nodded again and reached into his pocket.

This would have put me on alert before (not that I couldn't stop any of his moves and break his arm any time I wanted, of course), but lately I had been thinking of death a lot and what it meant for humans... and what it might look like for Diana. That was the reason I only kept staring at his hand with detached interest. Should I evade the point blank shot... or not?

I am not sure I really expected a weapon, but I definitely never expected to see what he actually produced.

Silently, he handed me a photo.

Looking at it, dumbfounded, I was listening in on how everything inside my well-tuned, perfect body of steel shrank miserably, harder and harder, until there were only two things left in the universe: that photo and my pain.

"I didn't know you had... a daughter." As hard as I tried, my voice must have betrayed my anguish. It was one of the few things I could not have, children.

I didn't know. To be sure, I could find out, but I realized that if I kept close tabs on their happy life I'd simply go mad. For that reason, sending my hounds out once a year, I only asked one question of them: was Diana still alive. I forbade them to tell me anything else.

Making a great effort to prevent my voice from quivering, I added:

"She looks so much like her."

That made my anguish so much worse. The young woman in the photo looked like a carbon copy of Diana at the time she had been with me. The face, the body, the torrent of hair and the bright, daring gaze--they were absolutely identical. Kyle's hands around her, her beautiful smiling face pressed against his wrinkled one, she was happily looking straight into the camera.

He did not only take my priceless treasure from me, my love. As an extra bonus, he had also had my most fervent dream come true--for himself.

I felt a burning desire to kill him right there and then.

Blood! Only the taste of his blood could help me now. That, and the sound of his neck bones breaking in my steely grip--followed by his final death rattle... How was I to resist the temptation?

Without a doubt, he could see his death in my eyes, but that left him surprisingly unperturbed. There was not a tinge of fear in his face--just unmitigated resolve and doom.

"Diana and I have no children, Kristoff. She can't have any." Now it was as if we had swapped roles, and it was now he who was unable to conceal his private agony.

I couldn't understand. What the...

"That's Diana with me in that photo."

I looked at the picture again. Was it doctored? But why?

"It was taken by our friends four days ago, on the day of our anniversary." His eyes, his voice and, most importantly, his odor confirmed he was telling the truth.

"She... looks good." A sudden lump in my throat made it difficult for me to speak. "Did she have a--"

He cut me off.

"Have you ever asked yourself, Kristoff, why it is that her blood makes for such a great cure for your kind? As you may know, she has a great regeneration capacity. Thus, after that savage beating you gave her, she healed completely within a couple of weeks while anyone else in her shoes would have taken many months... if they even survived at all... and remained crippled for life." Kyle's voice became flat and full of hatred. "Remember how you used to draw liters of blood from her, and she still wouldn't die? You told me yourself she was special and she was going to pull through. Well, apparently, you never knew how true that was. Nor did I know."

What did he mean? Of course I knew how different she was from the rest of the humans. Everything about her was special, from her scent to her blood. She was so... so...

At that point, Kyle's voice interfered with my bitter trip down memory lane, breaking the ice of my life that had been frozen solid.

"It took me almost seventeen years to realize she was not changing."

With a loud whoosh, air rushed into my lungs. In a complete state of shock, I looked at the photo in my hands with fresh eyes.

Unaware of the supernova being born inside of me, Kyle continued.

"Naturally, it isn't a very long time. Given good genes and proper care, some women can indeed deceive time--for a time. But Kristoff, there's no deception here! Even now, thirty years later, she is still the way she was when I first saw her.

He fell silent for a long time. I felt like grabbing him and shaking the last ounce of what he knew out of him. But I didn't dare... afraid of scaring off the unexpected miracle that had just landed on the periphery of my fate.

"When I finally understood it, I went back to my research, looking into her blood and tissues and studying special literature on the subject. What I found left me speechless. Diana's cells keep regenerating ad infinitum, accumulating no errors that lead to the emergence of deficient old cells, as the case is with all other humans."

I almost choked. Could it be that...

"Are you saying that..."

"She is not growing older, Kristoff. Even if I am wrong and she is, it is not happening at the same rate as with other people. Her body has not yet gone past the age of twenty-five biological years."

"How could this be? She is human, isn't she?" Asking the question, I cared not for the answer. I just needed to beat back the insurmountable urge to scream, to howl at the sky in a paroxysm of sudden happiness.

"Oh, she is human all right, though she is indeed very special." For the first time, Kyle smiled, warmly and intimately, and once again I had to stifle my urge to tear him apart. His smile spoke volumes of how intimately close they had been! "Naturally, I also became interested to see if there were others like her."

"And?" The word flew off my lips of its own accord.

"It happens so rarely that ancient sources consider their existence even less likely than yours, Kristoff." There was open mockery in his eyes. "But yes, there have been others. They are referred to as 'everlasting.' No, not immortal. You can kill them, like anyone else... for example, by leaving them with no proper care when they have been badly wounded." He just wouldn't leave it alone!

Yet, I was now oblivious to his scolding and his insolence. Not now!

"So how long will she live? Give me the ballpark, at least." Unwittingly, I was begging now, while his own stare remained fixed on my hands. I traced it back, only to see my fingers dancing a mad jig, as if I were an old man in distress. But I felt no shame. Paradoxically, he could now understand me like no other.

"I don't know. No one knows, Kristoff. Centuries? Millennia? I don't know. However, there's no doubt in my mind that Diana will live much longer than a regular human."

I took another look at the photo--at the radiant young woman in the arms of a man whose eyes spelled doom. The man on the verge of impending infirmity. Now I understood why Diana was going to be alone soon.

For the first time, I thought of him with respect. She was right, and he was indeed the best of what was possible... among the humans. Would I have guts enough to do something like that? With nary a hesitation deprive myself of many additional happy years with the woman I loved to spare her the need to be with an old man? Put aside my burning hatred and jealousy to give her happiness... with my enemy?

I felt a certain something rising up from the long-forgotten depths of my original human memory: the urge to thank him.

"Don't thank me!" he cut me off, as if being reading my mind, and then added, with perceptible hostility. "I am not doing it for your sake."

Of course. I understood.

"There's only one thing left, then. But it's the most important thing, Kristoff."

In the world of people, his move would qualify as really fast even though for me it was slow and unhurried, revealing his clumsiness with merciless clarity. He brought his face awfully close to mine, closer than any human had ever dared, and his eyes, already devoid of their old color and luster, surrounded with multiple wrinkles, looked straight into mine.

"Remember, if you ever hurt her again, I will come back for you from the grave."

Gratitude--yes, that was the word!--disappeared without a trace, incinerated by an unstoppable avalanche of hatred. Letting the animal inside of me loose and rejoicing in the act, I roared into his face:

"You are only still alive because of Diana! You are nothing! Rest assured I would have found you sooner or later! And stomped on your grave! On principle... just because I felt like it! As to hurting... Aren't you forgetting you have also played a part in her injuries? Or do you think I am not aware of who helped Adamas kidnap her? To be sure, you have miscalculated somewhat, but that's a poor excuse! Do you even realize that because of you I could have really killed her in my rage? I am not human!"

I was fully prepared for his own flood of accusations, but not for the confession that once again turned my world upside down.

Very quietly, he said:

"Back then, I thought one just couldn't love someone more, but now I see it is possible. Back then, I was certain I would pay any price whatsoever for her. But sometimes, Kristoff, we simply cannot afford that price. Now I know it... and so do you."

After he left and her scent left with him, I froze, my eyes glued to the photo in my hand--a photo of the woman that held the key to my soul. I began listening to my heart picking up speed, beat by beat, and to my ancient blood racing through the body, waking it up from a sleepy lethargy. Life itself was coming back to me, bringing hope...

 

Years later

Something had changed.

Sudden anxiety woke me up before dawn, urging me to step outside.

The trees and the shrubbery, the flowers and the grasses around the house--almost imperceptible for a human eye and crystal clear for mine--froze, expecting something. It was very quiet, as if before a thunderstorm, when the air, singing with electric crackle, makes the world stand still, so that it could detect what comes next and miss nothing.

But my world was different.

I heard the night moths, wings aflutter; I heard a hedgehog's teeth grind, making short work of its prey, a mouse, the thing's bones cracking, breaking, the beats of its heart slowing down; feathers swished in birds' nests; countless droplets of dew dripped down everywhere, close by and way out there where they were barely audible, the echo reverberating throughout; leaves rubbed against each other with a steady roar; a night bird cawed, the knocking of its beak a sound in its own right, and on and on it went. And that was just what was near.

And that was just the sounds.

The smells made for an infinity of their own. Delicate, light, sweet, dark, musky, itching, suffocating, shouting out loud, subtle or in your face as they were, they all came through loud and clear, as did the entire universe that they formed.

Almost lost in that endless continuum out there, there was that one particular scent. Not so much of a whiff even, but rather a memory of one. The most important smell in the universe. Hers.

I flew up to the roof ridge, the highest place around, and froze habitually, eyes closed, vying to achieve the impossible--trace the starting point of her scent among the intricate web of other smells. Indeed, I knew she was traveling, visiting what few people she knew in other cities and countries. Every day, I freeze on the roof like this, hoping for a miracle, hoping... hoping...

How great the temptation was to circle her with an impenetrable ring of security! I fought myself tooth and nail, to the point of complete exhaustion. I told myself it would be for Diana's own safety, to protect her from attack or any senseless accidents. To prevent, safeguard, preserve until... when? Until I came for her?

By what right? Well, I had one that I had never questioned before--the right of the strong to take anything they wanted, any thing in the world.

Yet, Diana was not a thing.

It cost me so much time and pain, hers and mine, to finally understand that.

She did not belong to me. She was free. It was up to her to build her life any way she saw fit. Her eternal life.

I smiled.

After the hunter's visit, my bonfire was blazing high, reaching the skies. Unused to seeing me so alive, terrified servants fled to hide in distant corners. Meeting my feverish stare head on, some fainted. Silly insects, I barely noticed them, savoring the fire burning inside of me, the world that was suddenly flashing with colors, new perceptions, infinite beauty...

I had gone through trials and tribulations of torturous regret. If I knew... if I only knew from the very beginning! Then again, none of our sources mentioned anything about the lifespan of those who carried precious medicine in their veins. To be sure, any memories I may have had could just fade away over time, as was the case with many on countless occasions throughout human history. And there probably were precious few such records to begin with. But could it be that, blind in our usual indifference, we simply drank our medicine to the last drop, never becoming privy to the mystery?

Sometimes the old me, almost a stranger now, would wake up inside and roar silently, Had you known, you would have never let her out of sight, never given her up! She would have been by your side all those thirty years!

And hating me all those years, to be sure.

Torturing myself, I have stared at that dead end hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, until I understood: no, that wasn't the way!

Suddenly, I staggered, having lost my bearings in the world that contracted to a bare line. Heck, a point!

It couldn't be...

At that moment the wind direction changed, mockingly throwing in my face the entire gamut of smells--an altogether superfluous crazy cacophony from the nearby towns, from the aroma of fresh baked goods to the stench of garbage chutes.

I barely managed to stifle the scream, "Come back!"

Anxiously sifting through hues, tones and nuances, reading the universe from the other end, not the end I needed at all, I was telling myself again and again that I must have been wrong. After all, I had waited for so long! In all those years, I could be wrong just once, couldn't I, I simply had to have been! It couldn't be that...

Offended by my distrust, the wind threw another ladle of smells my way, this time scooping them up from the other end of the air ocean--from the source.

I wasn't wrong.

Transparent and barely perceptible, a mere whiff really, but so painfully familiar and enchanting that there simply couldn't be any doubt at all, the scent was coming in from afar, quivering, weaving an intricate web, shifting and disappearing for a time--a disaster! A sudden paroxysm of pain in my chest!--only to reemerge in a moment or two, stronger than ever, to tease me again.

Diana.

Where was she going? So far from the shore. So far from home. And so close to me!

The bonfire inside of me exploded into a sun!

She was... so near that I could... in a mere hour... an hour! She was so close!

My eyes closed, blinded by the shining inside of me, I was anxiously tracking the center of the universe as it shifted my way.

And moving it was, faster and faster, the change becoming utterly unmistakable.

Suddenly I wished I had in fact posted those guards. What happened? Where was she going in such a hurry? What if she was sick and they were transporting her in an ambulance? I couldn't remember her ever being sick. And what if...

The world went black with my fury.

Oh, what an idiot I was, succumbing to all that touchy-feely human stuff! Of course I should have watched her like a hawk, guarding her with my very life! How could I forget how valuable she was? Not for myself--there hadn't been a moment I didn't remember that--but for others that could also need her. Like Moira had once.

I'll tear the bastards apart! Wipe them off the face of the earth if a single hair... a mere hair off her precious head...

It was then that I realized the scent had come closer.

The roar in my chest died down.

A bird flew by, mere inches from my face--that's how still and how long I had stood there. In a flash, I descended from my roof perch... and froze again.

Much closer. She was driving. Alone.

She had to be simply going somewhere... on business. Naturally, just a business trip...

But getting closer nonetheless.

Oh, forget it, lose your hopes!

But what if... just maybe...

I rushed into the house, knocking a servant off his feet. In a split second, his terrified stare and the hands clawing at the floor were left far behind. Moira's and Jenob's worried faces flashed by. I slammed the library door shut behind me, rushed to the window and drew it open.

Closer.

A quivering sigh escaped from my lips. Could it be?

She could simply be traveling down the main highway, never taking the connecting road to the estate. She could turn the opposite way altogether. Wherever she wanted to go. It was a big world, and she was free!

A low moan followed the sigh.

Like a whirlwind, I swooshed into my own wing and waited there for an entire minute in a closed room. Then I jerked the window open.

Closer.

A-a-ah....

My eyelids down, slowly, afraid of losing a single atom of it, I was savoring her scent that was getting thicker by the second, arriving in waves, making her image crisper, bringing it into focus. Here were her soft lips, her hair, cascading in the wind, her wrist under a silver bracelet, the long neck free of any jewelry, her velvety breasts adorned with the silk of her dress, her shapely legs--no stockings or underwear, no thanks, the ankles crisscrossed with leather straps... Diana.

Enchanted, I was listening to the singing of the engine as it drew closer still. Too long.

Now I will know. Now. In another second. A moment...

She took the turn.

"Yes!" As the deafening triumphant scream escaped my chest, I jumped over the windowsill and landed in the courtyard, scaring off a flock of sparrows.

The steel spring inside of me was all cocked and ready. Just pull the trigger, and I'd take right off!

She was coming my way!

Really? She'd be taking the same road... coming to see Moira.

Oh, nonsense. It's me she was coming to see!

And why not? Moira was a friend. She had never betrayed her. In fact, she had saved her life after you had almost killed her.

With a clunk, my jaws came together.

One would think that over the years I must have studied my guilt through and through, yet now, all of a sudden it crushed me with its newfound novelty like a ton of bricks. What could I tell her? How would I even look her in the eye? What if she simply walked by, as she did back then in the mountains, without seeing me? What would I do then? What?

"Go to her," sounded Moira's voice from behind.

I took off.

The entire world was leading to her, every second I spent traveling marked with jolly colorful arrows.

 

Two hills separated us. Standing in the middle of the road under the faded summer sky, behind the roar of the engine I could hear her breathing and her heart beating--slowly, regularly. I could sense her whole.

Why was she so calm?

That was not good. What if she didn't care? What if she simply swerved around me without the benefit of a single look? What was I going to do then?

But if she was coming to see me... just for the sake of argument, just a tiny, lowly "if"--because otherwise I wouldn't be able to hold back and gobble her up whole, dissolving myself in her without a trace. Forever.

If she was coming to see me...

As her car came into sight on top of the hill, the rustle of tires almost displaced the hum of the engine.

And then I saw her.

She was the same as when I let her go. And once again different. Not a wrinkle on her forehead--not from all the years, not from any anxiety--she was looking at the road with great concentration. Calm, impenetrable, getting closer with every heartbeat... and slowing down.

Five steps away from me, the tires came to a standstill.

I knew I'd better go meet her, hold the door open, smile, offer her my hand, be a gentleman... But I couldn't take a single step. I couldn't move a digit. I was afraid she was going to disappear.

As she appeared under the bright sun, I gasped happily--she was wearing scarlet!

A step, another step... She stood before me, her scent all around me, blocking out the universe. Looking into my face, her tense eyes were searching for something--something they didn't seem to be able to find. What was so different about me?

Holding my breath, I watched her tender hand reach for me and stroke my left cheek, setting it on fire.

"You came back." I didn't have it in me to make it a question.

Her gaze as unblinking as before, without saying a word, she nodded slightly, changing the world. Forever.

"But you said you would never forgive me." I needed to know the most important thing first. "That it wouldn't be in this life..."

For the first time, she smiled--subtly, in a new, different way, as if in response to some secret thought deep down inside.

"I'll have to start a new life, then."

She took a step closer.

And the entire world went up in flames.

 

 

March-July, 2010

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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