A/N: I had to take down the other version and start over. I wasn't happy with the opening or the concept of the Watcher as she really doesn't play a part in the story/series besides... watching. Instead I opted for an opening that will directly tie into the series as well as introduce two characters that will eventually take on main character roles opposed to brief cameos.

"Many, many years ago Humans ruled the planet. They were strong, defenders of faith; explorers of worlds and they shaped the world in their image. Even today we can still see the testimonies that this is true. The cities they built still stand, the roads they paved, we still sometimes find amidst the overgrowth that has reclaimed the world."

Daija and Jonathan sat side by side, listening to their father attentively, their expressions awed. They didn't mind the hard ground they sat on, or the howling wind that whistled through the gaps in the hastily constructed lean-to their family had erected when they had made camp for the night. They were both too engrossed in the story they were being told.

Bryce Cena stared down at his children, smiling at the rapt looks on their tiny faces and glanced over their heads at his wife; Lena who was also smiling as she tended to their evening meal. "Back then, Humans did not believe in Vampires or Werewolves."

Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. "Of course they did."

His younger sister did not say a word, Daija just waited patiently.

"They didn't, Jonny." Bryce insisted, reaching out to affectionately ruffle his son's hair. "Back then, Vampires and Werewolves were a thing of legend, mere stories."

"Like the one you're telling us now?" Jonathan asked shrewdly; his fair blue eyes reflecting the firelight.

"What I am telling you now, son, is the story of how the world came to be as it is."

"The Mother and the Father." Daija said finally in her clear little voice. "The Mother and the Father shaped the world, didn't they?"

"In a way…" Bryce said slowly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But in truth, they did not do it knowingly. Humans… our ancestors, brought about the end of the Human era."

"How?"

"Well, my little weed, if you'll let me get on with the story, I'll tell you."

Lena was laughing softly, shaking her head when he playfully scowled at her. "Go on then, tell them. But tell them the story from the beginning. You must tell them of Isis."

"Isis?" Both Jonathan and Daija said together, their heads swiveling to look at their mother.

Bryce reclaimed their attention quickly, watching as their little heads moved so quickly he almost worried they would fall off their scrawny necks. "Yes, Isis, and we'll get to her. But the story opens with two friends…"

Chapter 1

-Kentucky, America, 1997

"You have got to be kiddin' me."

The corners of Glenn Jacob's thin lips curved upwards into the barest hint of a smirk, hearing the disbelief in his best friend's -Mark Calaway- tone. "What? I thought you said a nice, relaxing country rest would do you some good?" He asked innocently, not daring to look over for fear of bursting out into laughter.

Mark wasn't smiling, he was frowning; his grey-green eyes staring at the house looming over them through the lens of his black sunglasses. "This is not a place to relax, this is a place you come to murder someone." He said finally, shaking his head in disgust. "This is the last time I let you decide where we go, Glenn. You're a jackass."

The old country inn wasn't that bad, in Glenn's opinion, but then again, he was apparently an odd sort of person. At least in Mark's book at any rate. It stood two stories high with a peaked roof, an old fashioned house, one that had only survived the passage of time thanks to proper care and maintenance. And money, lots of money.

The outside was painted an odd color, a mixture of grey and purple, the coat maybe a year old, the windows and the non-functional; purely for decoration only shutters were slate grey, matching the roof and trim. The front yard seemed well tended, if not a bite bare, one single stone bench sitting underneath a faded white arbor the only adornment.

"Well, we're here, we might as well check in." Glenn said finally, pushing open the car door and slid from his seat; his feet landing on the gravel that covered the circle driveway.

"Thrills." Mark muttered, following suit though without the eagerness. When he had said a 'country resort', he had meant a place with a green for golfing, maybe a pool... and company besides Glenn, of the female variety.

Glenn being Glenn, had gone for the most out of the way, ass backwards place he could find that still had indoor plumbing.

"Idiot..." Mark muttered, walking around to the back of the SUV to snatch his bag from the rear; growling when Glenn began whistling something inanely cheerful as loud as he could.

Glenn led the way up the walkway that led to the porch, gravel crunching beneath his sneakers. "You know, this wouldn't be so bad if you'd just give it a chance." He scolded over his shoulder, wondering how anyone could not appreciate this place? It was quiet, far enough from town to be comfortable and the scenery was beautiful.

"We could have gone to Vegas."

"And lost all our money in casinos, probably wind up married to some toothless strippers with a fat Elvis conducting the ceremony, sounds like a beautiful vacation, Mark. Now shut the hell up and- Hello." Glenn stopped abruptly, staring up at the porch.

Mark damn near walked into his friend, cursing under his breath and came to a halt as well, looking up to see who had gotten Glenn's attention.

"Hey there boys." Greeted a young woman with an overabundance of curly black hair; her narrowed pale green eyes focusing on them intently. "Calaway and Jacobs?"

"That'd be us." Mark drawled, stepping around Glenn; hoisting his bag up onto his shoulder; his biceps flexing with each move.

She obviously wasn't impressed with his muscular physique, or awed by the fact that he and Glenn were both standing close to the seven foot mark. In fact, she looked rather bored as she descended the porch steps; holding out her hands. "I'll take your bags, gents."

Hesitantly, Glenn handed her his duffel; half expecting her to double over from the weight. To his surprise, she slung it over her shoulder as if it weighed nothing, motioning for Mark's.

Mark felt no such hesitance when he passed his bag over, purposefully doing it roughly just to watch her.

They exchanged looks when the girl merely carted them inside.

"Ya'all coming or what?" She demanded, glancing back at them, her eyebrows furrowed together in a frown. "Let's get you checked in and settled down so I can get back to work."

"Hot damn, she's a firecracker." Glenn chuckled, following after her; cocking his head to the side, blatantly enjoying the view.

"If you like country."

In a 'country' sort of way, Mark supposed she was cute enough. Tall, her pale bare arms rather toned for a girl running a service desk at an inn. She wore a white tank top -beater, he corrected himself- underneath a pair of old, faded overalls; a dirty red bandana hanging out the back pocket. When she turned to the side, her profile to him, he had to nudge Glenn in the ribs for trying to glimpse a peek at the flesh she revealed as the front of her bibs gaped forward.

Glenn just shot him an apologetic yet amused look.

"Alright..." The girl stepped behind a large marble counter; pulling a pen out from underneath her hair; tapping the register. "Reservation is for the week?"

"Yes."

"Two rooms, King beds..." She read, sounding bored and jotted something down on a scrap of paper; glancing at them and frowned. "Will you be paying with cash, check or credit card?"

"Cash." Glenn fumbled for his wallet, blushing furiously for some reason.

Snorting, Mark smoothly whipped out his own leather bound wallet, sliding his Visa across the counter top. "Credit card, darlin'."

Shrugging, she ran it through the machine; keying in the correct numbers with the dull air of someone who had done it one too many times. When it had cleared and spewed a receipt at her, she passed the receipt and card to him. "Room 10 and 12, they're right across from each other."

Mark pocketed the key he was handed, looking for some sort of nameplate. "What's your name?" He finally asked.

"Isis, I'm the jack of all trades here." She said after a moment, stepping around the counter to pick their bags back up. "Follow me, please."

Exchanging another round of confused looks, they did.

"Breakfast is served between eight and ten, lunch between one and two, dinner is always at eight. Formal wear is required for dinner, or at least... as formal as you got. No flip flops, tank tops or shorts at the dinner table when Miss Damia is present."

"Miss Damia?"

"Well," Isis chuckled at some private joke. "Actually, she's a Dame, but Dame Damia sounds horrible so we just call her Miss, she's the owner of this little hovel."

"Little hovel?" Glenn did not get Isis' sense of humor and it showed on both his face and in his tone.

"There's a rec room downstairs, a library, we have a pool out back and a courtyard for tennis, though it's never been used." She continued as if she hadn't heard him; finally halting. "Here you are."

Mark and Glenn silently accepted their bags.

"Enjoy your stay." Isis squeezed between them and headed back the way they had come, not looking back.

Now it was Mark tilting his head to the side, watching as her pert backside disappeared from view. "Mmm."

"Don't bother." Glenn snorted, unlocking his door. "She's not going to want some one night stand."

"Probably want a life time commitment."

"Girl like that? Hell no. She'd want a quickie in the bushes and then for you to go jump off a cliff."

Laughing, Mark let himself into his own room.

***

"How formal is formal?" Mark demanded after spending the entire afternoon and most of the evening sleeping. It never failed to amaze him how something simple and dull like driving could tire out almost anybody, himself included.

"I wouldn't wear the denim vest if I were you." Glenn called from across the hall, both men's doors wide open.

They had learned quickly they were the only guests at the moment which to Glenn, was a blessing. To Mark, it simply meant they were going to be even more bored than he had anticipated.

Glenn was his best friend and all, but as far as he was concerned, they were one naked swim away from being 'life partners'.

Not that there was anything wrong with that of course, but if he had to be gay, it sure as hell wasn't going to be with some guy who was an inch or so taller than him. No thank you, he'd prefer to be the butch.

Casting aside his beloved, frayed, denim vest; Mark began sorting through his clothes. He had packed for a vacation, not a week long series of parties. Finally, he pulled out the one dress shirt he had packed. It was the standard white, long sleeved, button up shirt. Paired with a pair of his nicest black jeans, it would have to suffice.

Glenn was brushing his neck length, brown, curly hair when Mark walked in; surveying his friend's attire. "Is that the best you can do?"

"I could always go put on the leather pants."

Closing his eyes at the offensive mental image he was now having, Glenn just shook his head. "I seriously hope this 'Miss Damia' clocks you one."

"If she's anythin' like Isis, she probably will."

Glenn was the definition of formal. Like Mark, he was sporting a 'standard' dress shirt, black dress slacks and shiny black dress shoes. He turned to showcase his outfit, smirking when Mark just rolled his eyes. "Brush your hair."

"I did, mom."

"Pull it back, you look like a savage."

"Yes, mom."

"Is everything alright, gentlemen?"

They turned in time to find a man leaning in the door, brushing imaginary lint from his three piece black suit; both immediately feeling underdressed. From the tip of his wingtip, highly glossed shoes to the black satin tie he wore, this man was the essence of 'formal'.

"Everythin' is fine." Mark said gruffly, finishing braiding his still damp hair back.

"Dinner is in five, gentlemen." Smiling, his startling white teeth gleaming in the dim hallway light, the man pushed away from the door and walked away.

Glenn stuck his head out the door, watching until the man had gone downstairs before whistling. "I thought we were the only guests at the moment?"

"Maybe he ain't a guest."

***

Whatever Mark was expecting when they went down for dinner, he wasn't sure if this was it. A statuesque, middle aged woman was sitting at the head of a very long, rectangular dining table. Her head turned long before they had actually entered the dining room, piercing brown eyes studying them thoughtfully.

Beside her was the man from earlier, still looking impossibly impeccable as he leaned back in his chair, his own gaze locked on the ceiling.

The woman -Miss Damia no doubt- picked up a small, silver bell that sat on her right side and rang it once.

"Comin'!"

No sooner had they seated themselves when Isis came bursting out from behind the double doors that must have led to the kitchen; a silver, covered platter on each hand and one on her head. Compared to Miss Damia's elegant navy blue cocktail dress and elaborate updo, Isis was very underdressed. A simple denim dress that buttoned from the hem, to the top and flat, practical dress shoes.

She didn't look too bad, in a down home kind of way, especially with her hair brushed and held back with a cloth headband; revealing her high forehead and delicately arched eyebrows. Isis set down two of the platters before Mark and Glenn, the third at the empty spot next to the unnamed man.

"Please," Damia waved her pale hands, her long fingers flicking just a hint. "Begin."

Isis had disappeared back into the kitchen, returning with two flutes of red wine; handing them to Damia and the man before settling herself in her chair.

While Glenn dug into his food with obvious gusto, Mark could only watch the trio. Damia and the man -who he soon learned was named Gabriel- chatted of things he couldn't keep up with while Isis busied herself with her plate, occasionally answering any question aimed at her.

He learned -thanks in large to Glenn's curiosity and big mouth- that Damia was Isis' Aunt, and Gabriel some sort of distant cousin, he had gotten lost during the explanation. Some kind of jumbled family situation.

Isis was also quiet during the meal, her eyes roaming freely back and forth between him and Glenn as she ate; occasionally answering a question Gabriel directed at her; blushing whenever her cousin glanced her way.

A seriously messed up, jumbled family situation.

***

His first day at the old country inn was shaping up to be a majorly boring day, much to Mark's chagrin. After a very late breakfast consisting of stale coffee and cold toast -which had made Glenn chide him, reminding him of the meal hours-, he had figured he'd venture outside and at least eyeball the pool.

The rain canceled those tentative plans.

So instead he was bound inside the house, contemplating just what the Hell he was supposed to do with his day.

A venture down into the basement or 'rec room', found Glenn, busy shooting pool.

"Hey buddy, what're you up too?" Glenn asked, not looking up from his game.

Mark shrugged, which garnered no reaction from his friend as Glenn wasn't even looking at him, rolling his eyes. "Nothin', considering suicide."

"Why's that?" Obviously, Glenn wasn't concerned, he easily sank a striped ball with a grin.

"Boredom."

"I see, go outside."

"It's raining, you moron."

"Explore the house."

"What the hell do you think I am, eight?"

"Sometimes I don't wonder," Glenn finally looked up, a frown marring his usually cheery face. "Want to play a game with me?"

Mark arched an eyebrow, not amused with the way the frown was slipping off Glenn's face, only to be replaced with a cocky looking grin. Glenn probably could have played pool professionally and had easily taken him for at least a grand during the course of their ten year plus friendship. "I'll pass." He said stonily.

Shrugging, Glenn went back to his game. "Your loss."

That wasn't helpful. Sighing, Mark walked across the plain green carpet and into the adjoining room, a library. He liked a good book every now and again but this was... wow. "You see this?"

"The private library? Yep. I'm pretty sure they have some rare first editions in there so be careful."

Rolling his eyes, Mark gave the room a quick walkabout; still bored and it was getting worse by the minute. He halted at a closed door, staring at it. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure Glenn was preoccupied, he pushed it open.

Inside resembled his garage, even on scale; only it wasn't cement floor but the same carpeting that ran throughout the house. Unlike the rest of the house's carpet however, this wasn't as pristine. It looked clean, but dingy; used.

Mark liked this room.

He strolled over to a heavy wooden table, somehow not surprised to find it littered with tools and various projects in all sorts of unfinished states. He could not for the life of him picture Damia or Gabriel working down here and tried envisioning Isis standing where he was, her small but capable hands working with...

"Well I'll be damned..." He chuckled, shaking himself out of the no longer PG thoughts he had been entertaining. Suffice to say, he could very easily picture her down her, working with her... tools.

"You certainly could be, what the hell are you doin' in here?"

He whirled around to find Isis leaning in the doorway, a scowl marring her pale face. "Just lookin'." He replied in a slow drawl, leaning back against the table and folded his arms over his chest. Her wild hair had been somewhat tamed, pulled back into a thick ponytail and doubled over though there was probably nothing to be done for the curls that had escaped and framed her face and hung down her neck.

"This is my room." She said angrily, stalking over to the table and looked it over, making sure everything was in place. "Guests aren't allowed."

"I didn't see a sign."

Cursing under her breath, she pushed him away.

Mark actually felt himself moving a few feet from her, his green eyes widening as he stared at the young woman. She wasn't even red in the face, showing absolutely no signs of exertion. "What the hell are you jakked up on?" He demanded.

"Jakked up on?" Isis echoed, looking confused for a moment before her scowl deepened. "Nothing you twit, get the hell out."

When it looked like she was going to charge him, Mark held up his hands and decided discretion was the better part of valor, backing away. "I'm going darlin', I'm going." He laughed, backing out the door.

"Jackass." She spat after him.

***

"You know... I think I might book us for another week." Glenn sighed contentedly, later in the day, towards evening. He and Mark were now sitting on the front porch, Glenn in a sturdy wooden glider while Mark sat on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette. "This place is just so damn peaceful..."

"The sad thing is," Mark snorted, exhaling smoke out through his nose. "you're serious."

Ignoring his friend, Glenn directed his attention to Isis who was coming round the corner of the house; dirt staining both knees of her faded overalls. "Where've you been keeping yourself?"

She smiled at him, halting on the gravel path that led to the step and brushed her hands off on her bibs. "Out back weedin'. How you enjoying your visit?"

"Peachy." Mark muttered, shifting so his long legs took up the steps completely. If she wanted to pass, she could either step over him, ask him to move or move him. He had a sneaking suspicion she'd probably move him; feeling a shiver run down his spine at the thought.

Isis shook her head, next brushing a flyaway hair from her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt in her wake.

"So..." Glenn began slowly, feeling awkward and more than a little embarrassed by his friend's attitude, the tension between Mark and Isis thick enough to cut with a knife. "Um, what's for dinner?"

"Good question." She replied, her brow wrinkling in thought then she glanced down at her hands, sighing. "See you boys."

Somehow, Mark wasn't surprised when she stepped over him.

Chapter 2

"Look, I'm sorry."

Isis didn't turn around from her place at the counter, busy chopping freshly washed vegetables for the night's meal. "Bout what?"

Mark felt a bit like an idiot, just standing there inside the spotless kitchen, for the first time realizing why Isis had ripped him a new asshole when he had invaded her little workshop. In the two days since they had been here, he hadn't seen any other staff members besides Damia -who owned the house- and Gabriel -who managed the money, and as far as he could tell, neither of them did anything.

The only times he had seen either of them was at supper time, afterwards they just disappeared; leaving Isis to clean-up after.

So running the household, keeping up with whatever repairs there were, tending to the grounds, tending to the guests, cooking and all the rest... Isis was a busy woman and probably used to being left alone, used to not being bothered.

"For being an asshole?"

The knife hovered over the carrots and celery she had been dicing. Finally, Isis lay it aside and turned to stare at him intently, pale green eyes taking him in thoughtfully. "Apology accepted."

He arched an eyebrow.

An amused smile flitted over her thin lips. "Don't expect one from me, big boy, ain't happenin'."

Huffing, he turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

Isis' laughter followed him.

***

"Well that didn't go very well, did it?"

Mark had been on his way to his room after the not so successful attempt at smoothing things over with Isis when he heard that. Frowning, his head swiveled in the direction of the voice, not all that surprised to find Gabriel reclining against the wall, in the shadows of the not yet lit hallway. "What?"

"Isis, it didn't go very well." Gabriel pushed himself away from the wall, stepping into the middle of the hall. Through one of the open guest room doors, a hint of the fading sunlight streamed, giving a small section of hallway an orange-ish tint. "Of course, she never was one for a lot of talking. She got that from her mother."

There was just something about Gabriel that didn't settle well with Mark, something about the other man that made Mark automatically go on guard. "Is that so."

Gabriel nodded, reaching up with long; pale fingers to smooth his hair back over his ears; his piercing blue eyes never leaving Mark. "You should probably just leave her alone for the rest of your stay, Mr. Calaway."

It wasn't a suggestion.

"Gabriel, right? Mind if I call you Gabriel?" Mark didn't wait for an answer, flashing a smile that was so fake even this stiff jackass couldn't mistake it for anything else. "I don't think what I do on my vacation is really any of your business."

"Maybe not, Mr. Calaway." Gabriel returned the smile, though his was infinitely colder; a glint of white teeth flashing at Mark. "But Isis is my business and I'm telling you to stay away from her, understand?"

"Not really, no." Mark took a challenging step forward, muscles flexing almost threateningly. Gabriel was shorter and slimmer than him, squashing this pompous little shit was going to be fun. "And... for arguments sake... what'll happen if I don't leave her alone?"

At once the atmosphere changed. The almost cheery fading orange light from the setting sun took on a darker tone, bringing to mind hellfire. The shadows along the walls of the hallway deepening, almost threatening to suck anyone who dared pass into their suddenly unknown depths.

Chuckling under his breath, Gabriel did what most men did not, he approached Mark and he did it with confidence.

A bit unnerved with this, Mark's eyes narrowed; staring down at Gabriel. It almost seemed like Gabriel was getting taller, until they were nose to nose...

"Is everythin' alright?"

At once the hallway was flooded with lamplight as Isis flicked the switch, the two men stepping away from each other.

"Of course, dearest." Gabriel smiled, extending a hand to her.

Flushing, Isis took it, allowing him to gather her against his side; the blush deepening when he kissed the side of her head. "I'm surprised to see you, Gabe, I thought you were going away?"

"I decided I'd rather stay to home." He replied, his gaze drifting past her to Mark; a charming smile that was completely the opposite from the one he wore earlier on his face. "Is that alright?"

"Of course it is." Isis turned to look up at Mark, stepping away from her cousin; still looking flushed though also a bit confused. "Is... is everythin' alright?" She asked him, her eyes almost dazed looking.

No, no it wasn't.

***

"I finally seen Gabriel, away from the dinner table."

It seemed like every time he was trying to relax or had found something to do, Mark interrupted. Sighing, Glenn marked the page in the book he was reading and laid it aside; knowing his friend wouldn't let him have a moment's peace until he had said whatever it was that was on his mind. "And?" He asked, letting his exasperation shine through his tone.

Ever since arriving, Mark had been so sure that he would be bored. Quite to the contrary, he wasn't bored, he was cooking up mysteries to keep himself occupied and boring the Hell out of Glenn with them.

"I think he and Isis are…"

"Yes?" Glenn prompted, arching a slow eyebrow.

Mark looked mildly disgusted. "Well, you know-"

"Bumping uglies."

"Yes, that, gross."

"Mark, I really think you should just… go have a lie down or something." Glenn said after a moment's consideration, staring at his friend and wondered if he was having some kind of breakdown. "Even if they were, why would you care?"

"Aren't they family?"

Now Glenn was also looking a bit green around the gills, having not thought of that one and shook his head. "None of our business."

"Gabriel just creeps me out."

"Good for you."

"I mean, you hardly ever see him out in the day."

"Some people are nocturnal, doesn't make them weird. Or creepy."

"Well this was weird and creepy, Glenn, Very weird and creepy."

Knowing Mark wasn't going to shut up until he had run out of steam, Glenn reluctantly shut up and gave his mentally challenged friend his complete and utter attention. "Alright, start from the top."

Taking a deep breath, Mark began; recounting what had happened up in the hallway with Gabriel, the veiled threats; the possessive Gabriel had displayed with Isis and how she had seemed so flustered and yet adoring of her cousin.

Glenn digested all that for one full minute, not looking away from the expectant Mark. Finally, at the minute mark, he spoke. "You're reading too much into it, Mark. Just forget about all that crap, stop studying Isis and for god sakes, quit trying to stuff people into roles they're not meant to be in."

"What?"

"You're not Sherlock Holmes, Gabriel is not Darth Vader, understand?"

Mark honestly did not, the sarcasm going right over his head, wondering what kind of drugs Glenn had been into. "What the flying hell does Vader and Sherlock Holmes have in common?"

Glenn just shook his head.

***

Mark woke up covered in sweat; his pulse racing, heart thudding violently in his chest and absolutely no clue what had woken him in the first place. Running a hand through his sweat soaked hair, he turned his head to glance at the bedside table, the digital clock reading 2:23 AM in bright red numbers.

Groaning, he threw back the thin blanket he had been under and sat up, his feet automatically curling away from the floor when he felt how cool the wood was. After a moment, he stood up; hearing the floor creak beneath him as he padded towards the window.

He parted the curtains and stared out, the hedges and garden casting eerie shadows on the moonlight lawn, though at the same time… it was calming.

After standing there several minutes, Mark was about to return to bed but froze when he seen Isis crossing the yard; arching an eyebrow. She moved as if she were in an old movie, slow, almost lazy; her motions fluid. What really stood out was the long white; flowing nightgown she wore. It was so innocent, and yet there was something seductive about, almost sinister.

He watched as she came to a stop just beneath a large oak tree; her head swiveling from side to side as if looking for something, or someone. It took him several seconds to realize that a black shape he had originally passed off as a shadow was stepping from the tree, reaching out to her.

She allowed herself to be pulled beneath the oak, at first.

Mark wasn't sure at this point if he was awake or just dreaming, pinching the inside of his wrist as he watched in silent fascination; the pinch hurt. He wasn't dreaming.

Knowing he would regret this in the end, Mark headed out of the room.

***

"No… no…"

It was a low moan of pain that Mark heard as he made his way through the dirt paths that ran throughout the large backyard; keeping alongside one of the giant hedges that lined the gardens. His mind was screaming at him to return inside, that he did not want to know what Isis was doing out here or with whom.

But he couldn't stop himself from pressing forward either.

The closer he drew, the more he was seeing things he did not want to see. He could see Isis' legs; wrapped around what he had mistook for a shadow; her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. Her arms were loosely wrapped around her unwanted lover's neck; her head lolling back as the continuous 'no's' escaped her barely parted lips.

Mark didn't know what to at this point, stunned into silence and immobility.

But his presence had not gone unnoticed.

He leapt backwards when Isis was suddenly dropped, her attacker spinning around.

Gabriel.

Gabriel's eyes were flashing with an inhuman anger, his mouth contorted into an angry; blood red slash that stood out lividly against his pale face.

For one brief moment, Mark honestly thought he was about to be attacked; raising his fists in a defensive posture. He was no weak man, he could defend himself, but whatever it was that was happening… was beyond his comprehension.

He quite frankly did not want to understand.

But Gabriel didn't attack, instead he actually hissed at Mark; baring his rather sharp teeth at the other man before quite literally disappearing into the night, leaving Mark standing there feeling confused and almost… frightened.

His attention was drawn from searching for Gabriel to Isis when he heard a soft plop; hesitantly stepping forward and knelt down beside her; unsure of what to do. When she didn't stir, he gingerly reached out to touch her throat with two fingers; feeling for a pulse.

After a moment, he felt it; he also felt something wet coating his fingers. Frowning, Mark drew his hand back, staring down at his fingertips and rubbed them together. By the dim light of the moon that managed to penetrate through the leaves, he could just barely make out something dark staining his fingers.

Hazarding a guess, he ventured it was blood, Isis' blood.

Isis let out another low moan; raising her own trembling hand off the grass and pressed her palm to her throat.

"You alright?" He asked, surprised at how level his voice sounded; contrasting with the way he actually felt. When she nodded, he gingerly grabbed hold of her arms; pulling her up gently into a sitting position. "Isis… Can you stand?"

"…yes, I think so…"

After guiding her to her feet; Mark wrapped an arm around her small frame; allowing her to lean against him as they slowly walked out from beneath the tree. Now that they weren't completely hidden in shadows, Mark stopped and bent down to study her face, ignoring her slowly blinking eyes and puzzled expression as he cupped her chin; forcing her to tilt her head to the side.

He found blood smearing her throat, but no wounds. "What the hell is going on?" He asked, more to himself then her.

She actually smiled, a wan smile, but a smile just before crumpling for a second time.

Cursing, Mark lifted her into his arms; careful to avoid getting caught up in her billowing nightgown and looked around; half expecting something to jump out at him and snatch her away. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, a shiver running down his spine. Mark was not a man to scare easily, he never had been, but there was something going on here that scared him, something that he couldn't explain and knew instinctively there was no rational explanation for.

Trying his best not to walk too fast, Mark headed inside and did not look over his shoulder as much as he wanted too.

He could have sworn he heard laughter following after him.

***

Mark knew he wasn't insane, or at least that's what he kept telling himself when he had woken up in the morning and found his bed empty. Maybe he had dreamt that he had gone outside last night, and part of that dream had involved Isis and him bringing her inside, laying her down in his bed.

But the small indent on the pillow that lay on the side of the bed he didn't use told him he hadn't dreamt any of it. Or at least, not the part about Isis sharing his bed.

Groaning, he ran his left hand down his face; trying to assess the situation logically but logic was failing him. There simply was no logical explanation for anything that he had witnessed the night before. He had seen Gabriel, he had seen Isis wrapped around him, he had both felt and seen the blood, but he hadn't seen any wounds on her.

"Either I'm going crazy… or…" He didn't finish, trailing off because he could not bring himself to voice aloud the other option. That what wasn't supposed to exist, did in fact, exist.

Hell, he was talking out loud to himself anyway, that was a sign of being crazy, right?

***

Glenn was busy devouring slices of fried ham, scrambled eggs and toast when Mark finally appeared. "Hey man, you damn near missed breakfast." He said by way of greeting, raising his mug of coffee in a salute. "You look like shit."

"Wouldn't wanna do that." Mark grunted, dropping down into a chair; eyeing the remains of breakfast disinterestedly. "Where is everyone?" He ignored the 'are you serious' look Glenn shot him.

"Damia and Gabriel are… wherever the hell they are and Isis is in the kitchen, she said something about hotcakes."

"I had to make something, you're eatin' everything else." Isis said, emerging from the double doors with a steaming platter of pancakes between her hands, a smile on her face though she wasn't catching Mark's stare. "Here you go." She set the platter down on the table next to a pitcher of syrup. "Dig in."

"Sleep well?" Mark asked with just a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

Shooting him a dark look, she hurried back to the kitchen.

Glenn's fork paused midway to his open mouth; staring across the table at Mark. "What the hell was that about?" He demanded.

Mark just shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

***

Isis was fuming. She was currently crouched down on the gravel, changing the left rear tire on her old Dodge pick-up, her mind not on her work. Her mind was on Mark, and what he had said over breakfast.

Had she slept well?

What kind of question was that to ask somebody? Especially after, but no, she wouldn't think of that. She had always thought they were dreams, unable to find any evidence of what it seemed Gabriel was doing to her, she never had any wounds or marks on her throat.

Ever.

So she had chalked it up to sleepwalking and insane dreams about her handsome cousin, who for some reason both unnerved and entranced her.

"Need some help?"

She had been lowering the truck down slowly, completely losing her head when she heard Mark's drawl from just behind her and groaned when she jerked; letting go of the jack handle and could only watch the rear end of the truck slam down. "Son of a…"

"Sorry." He apologized quickly, bending down to grab her beneath her arms, helping her to stand. "I was-"

Isis was already pushing him away, scowling as she turned to glare up at him. "Was there something you needed?" She asked shortly, knowing just why he was bothering her; her eyes daring him to mention it.

The hostility radiating off of her would have been amusing, if he hadn't seen what he had seen. As it was, it was a bit annoying. It was like she was determined to keep him in the dark, even after the lights had already been turned on, so to speak. "No," He lied, returning her cold stare with one of his own. "I'm just bored, figured I'd see if you needed any help but…" His eyes moved to the tire and now toppled jack, his upper lip curling into a sneer. "I see you have everything under control."

Taking a deep, calming breath, Isis had to remind herself that Damia would not be happy if she shot off at the mouth to a customer. Somehow, she managed a tense smile. "Yes, I do, thank you."

Mark watched as she took care of her tools; noting how meticulous she was about putting everything back in it's proper place. "Nice." He whistled, finally stepping through the open bay door and into the garage.

"Yeah." She genuinely smiled, glancing around. "I like to work with my hands."

"I've noticed."

Silence ensued, an awkward silence with neither of them looking at each other.

"Well," Isis finally broke it, clasping her hands behind her as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "I suppose… I should get goin'." She tossed a thumb over her shoulder, towards the truck. "Got some errands to run, shoppin' to do."

Mark just nodded.

Having absolutely no idea what was prompting her, Isis blurted out: "You want to come with me?"

He grinned.

***

The trip into town took longer than what Mark thought it should have, but then again, he noticed Isis kept mostly to the back country roads, somehow managing to hit each and every bump and hole. Once he could have sworn he caught her grinning, getting an idea that she was doing all of this on purpose.

When they finally reached what could not constitute a town but was, Mark arched an eyebrow. "Is this it?"

"This is it." She confirmed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel while waiting for the chance to turn into a parking lot. "Too small for you, big guy?"

"You have a thing for sizes, don't you?"

Isis did not dignify that with an answer. Instead, she merely flicked her somewhat manageable hair over her shoulder and slid from the truck, her feet hitting pavement. Not waiting for him, she headed inside the supermarket.

Laughing under his breath, Mark followed her; halting behind her as soon as he had entered the doors, realizing something was wrong. Everyone was staring at them. "What the hell are they lookin' at?"

"You." She said coldly, ignoring the stares as she grabbed a basket; disappearing down an aisle.

Tailing behind her, he watched as she quickly filled the basket, wondering if she had any idea what she was doing. He couldn't help but notice the eyes that followed them, or how people moved out of her way like she was carrying the plague, a frown marring his face.

She was paying for the goods when the trouble started.

Chapter 3

Marty Woadson was one of the local boys, around Isis' age though without her intelligence. He was dumb and he was mean, those two were never a good combination. Isis braced herself with her feet apart, staring at him and the group of equally mindless morons that trailed behind him as they approached. Sheep, they were all sheep.

"Can I help you boys?" She asked in a polite, cool tone; not turning as she passed back her money to the cashier who didn't immediately take it, too busy gawking at Mark.

Mark who was standing off to the side with his arms folded over his chest and a quirked eyebrow.

"You can always help me, Isis." Marty leered, looking like he was about to follow that up with something even worse but hesitated when the giant took a step closer to her. "Who's the freak?"

"He's not a freak." She said through gritted teeth.

Mark held out his hand to the other, younger man; smiling in a way that bared all his teeth; no hint of warmth or politeness in it at all. "Mark Calaway. And what might your name be, son?"

The casually condescending tone the stranger had used ruffled Marty's feathers and he did not accept the offered hand, looking at it with disgust and contemplated hocking a wad of spit instead. When that large hand curled into a fist, he decided against it. "Woadson, Marty Woadson." He muttered, glaring at Isis as if it were her fault he was so much smaller than the ox she had taken up with. "So you finally got yourself a human friend, huh, Isis? Betcha that didn't make your Auntie happy, didn't it?"

"You just shut your spiteful mouth, Woadson or I'll shut it for you." Isis threatened, her pale green eyes lighting with fire as she returned his gaze. "You best shut the hell up about my family."

"Why should I?" Whereas Isis had been speaking in a quiet tone, his voice was only getting louder and louder. "Everybody knows 'bout you and your folks, all a bunch of freaks is what you are! A bunch of bloodsucking freaks!"

Mark could only stare at the two, wondering just what in the Hell was going on, but he was paying strict attention now. He could remember all too vividly finding Isis beneath that tree with Gabriel attached to her, just like a… bloodsucker.

"Shut up, Marty." Isis cautioned, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"Does your friend know about you, huh? Does he know about your family?" Marty continued, obvious to the fact that she was now turning beet red in the face; her entire posture threatening him with violence. "You'd of been better off hanging with me, Isis, I got connections in this town."

"If you say so." She whirled around and hastily began grabbing her groceries, her hands shaking with barely suppressed anger. "C'mon Mark."

Nodding, Mark moved to take the bags from her, noting how strained she appeared.

Nodding, Mark moved to take the bags from her, noting how strained she appeared.

She led the way out, more than aware that Marty and his little crew were following them, focusing on counting backwards from one hundred to keep herself calm.

"C'mon Isis, you know damn well what's going to happen. Hell, everyone knows it. One day the people of this here town are going to come out to that shithole ya'll try passing off as an inn and burn it, and each and last every one of ya to the ground."

"Kid, I'd let her alone." Mark advised, watching the tips of Isis' ears turn red; contrasting oddly against her pinned back hair.

"Fuck you, old man! You're probably a vampire wannabe, just like that little slut, Isis, is! You-" Marty didn't get any farther than that because Isis had lost what little composure she had had, whipped around and punched him so hard he literally flew backwards, feet off the ground; eye almost popping out of their sockets.

Several feet as a matter of fact, with a force that made everyone take a step back from Isis, all eyes on her.

Marty had collided with a mini-van; hitting it hard and then landed harshly on the cement parking lot.

The stunned onlookers slowly turned their attention from Isis to Marty, and then the dent in the side of the van. A Marty shaped dent.

"Time to go." Isis muttered, roughly taking the bags from Mark and all but tossed them into the bed of her pick-up. When he didn't move but simply stood there, she rolled her eyes and slapped a hand between his shoulder blades. "Time to go."

Nodding, he numbly made his way round to the other side of the Dodge, in a sort of shock. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Isis, his mind trying to sort out what he had just seen. Reluctantly, he found himself gazing back at Marty who was now being pulled to his feet.

"Get out of our town!" One of the onlookers shouted, a scowl on his face.

"We don't want your kind around here!"

"My kind…" Isis snorted, rolling her eyes as she shifted into reverse. When a rock struck her windshield, cracking it, she growled; half tempted to get out of the truck and start beating the asshole who had thrown it down.

She reigned in her anger and kept on going, trying to block out the shouts that followed them.

Mark was dimly aware that they were heading for the backwood roads again, his mind finally processing what he had seen. Isis had punched Marty, that was simple. Given her size and he was even factoring in that she was tawny, muscular, Marty should have stumbled backwards; doubled over and held his nose.

Instead his feet had left the pavement and his body -and Marty looked to be a decent sized boy- had literally gone flying backwards, right into that van. Mark was fairly certain that dent hadn't been there before…

"What the hell was that about?" He asked finally, shifting in his seat in order to look at her; observing the way her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles going white.

"My family is slightly eccentric if you haven't noticed." She said after a long moment, her tone tight from still suppressing her anger. "I'm sure you have."

He snorted. "Somethin' like that."

"People don't take well to eccentricities. Especially in small, back asswards towns like this one."

Mark had to consider that one, having a feeling that his next words needed to be chosen carefully or she was liable to put him through her already cracked windshield. "I get people having something against… odd folks."

Now it was her turn to snort; shooting him a dark look.

"But… vampires? Why the hell would anyone even think vampires? Vampires don't exist." Or at least, that's what he used to think. Now, after last night and today, he wasn't so sure anymore. Hell, maybe he was going crazy, just as crazy as these people around him.

"Because they're uneducated, superstitious fools. Vampires aren't real, didn't your momma ever teach you any better?"

"She did but I'm beginning to think she was wrong too."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She demanded, navigating a turn with one hand; the other fiddling with broken dials on the dashboard.

"You know damn well what it means, Isis." He knew they were venturing into dangerous territory but he didn't care, he had to know if he had really seen what he thought he had or if he really had lost his mind.

"No idea what you're talkin' bout." Was the cold reply.

"Kid…"

"Quit callin' me that. I ain't no child!"

He noted that her accent was more pronounced when she was angry, scoffing against his better judgment. "Could've fooled me."

Isis slammed a foot on the brakes; smiling grimly when he went flying forward with a muffled curse. "Get out."

"You fucking crazy bitch…" He rubbed a hand against his forehead, he wouldn't have been surprised to feel a bump or something. "Are you out of your mind?"

Isis was staring at him like she considering putting a fist sized hole in his forehead. "Get. Out." She repeated icily. "You can walk back."

"You're not serious… You treat all your guests like this?"

"Just the ones I don't like." She replied, moving so she was sitting with her back against her door and brought her foot up.

"Don't you dare!"

"I warned you." Isis shrugged before planting her foot squarely against his chest.

Shock rippled through him as he felt the door give way beneath his weight, dirt road rising up to meet him. The impact wasn't too bad, at first, though it felt like his chest might cave in from where her tiny little foot had landed.

As he was coming out of his stupor, Isis' head appeared over the seat; staring down at him.

"Devil bitch…" He groaned, cursing softly when she nudged his legs off her truck.

"I warned you, moron."

***

Mark pulled himself off into the grass to recooperate shortly after Isis had left him. Part of him figured she'd come back and get him after she had calmed down a bit. The other part, the part that was smarter, knew she wouldn't; consequences be damned.

"Good God almighty…" He groaned, reaching around to hold his aching back. He would have had a hard time believing she had done that if he hadn't seen her send Marty flying.

She was stronger than the average woman, make that the average person, him included and he was a pretty strong man. Hell, she was freakishly strong.

She had above average strength -he couldn't bring himself to say or even think superhuman-, that episode that had happened last night. Even though there were no puncture marks on her throat, he had seen the blood and he knew damn well he had seen Gabriel doing something to her neck.

Vampires.

Maybe those townspeople weren't quite as ignorant as she was trying to make him believe.

***

Glenn was sitting on the front porch when Mark finally strolled up the driveway, arching an eyebrow as he took his friend in. Mark had taken off his tee shirt and turned it into a type of bandana; protecting the back of his neck and shoulders from the late afternoon sun, which was rapidly sinking; sunset quickly approaching. "Where the hell have you been all day? I've been lookin' all over the place for you."

"Did you try off the property?" Mark demanded as he approached, dropping down heavily on the porch steps.

"No…"

"You should've. Got something to drink?"

Glenn held up a half finished glass of iced sweet tea he had been drinking; frowning when it was snatched away from him. "Thirsty?" He asked dryly, watching as Mark sucked the tea down.

Mark simply nodded; passing back the glass when he had finished with it, wiping his chin off with the back of his hand. "You seen Isis?"

"Yeah, she's out back in that garden somewhere." Glenn frowned, mildly surprised when Mark instantly pushed himself up to his feet. "What's going on?"

"Nothin'!"

Glenn could only watch as Mark stormed around the house, contemplating following the other man but decided against it. Whatever drama there was between Mark and Isis, Glenn did not want to know about. "That was messed up."

***

Red, the roses were red.

That wasn't really a problem as Isis grew red roses, she adored Black Cherry roses in particular, which she grew in abundance.

The problem was that the rose stems were red as well, the grass… trees… even the sky was a bloody red color.

Isis clenched her eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath and counted backwards from ten before opening them again. Slowly, the bloody tinge receded, leaving everything it's natural color. She looked down at her hands, not surprised in the slightest to see them trembling and quickly pulled them to her chest; forcing herself to breath.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" She whispered to no one in particular.

"Besides the fact that you're a spiteful bitch?"

She tried not to jump when she heard Mark's angry baritone from behind her, her hands falling to her lap for a moment before she returned to pulling weeds. "When did you get back?"

"You're in some trouble lil girl." Mark said flatly, wishing she would turn around and at least look at him. Considering she had left a boot shaped bruise on his chest, abandoned him on some country lane and then left him to find his own way back to the inn.

"I bet." She replied carelessly, still not looking at him; tossing a handful of weeds into the grass besides her.

Rolling his eyes, he bent down to grab her beneath her underarms; dragging her now protesting backside upright.

"Hey!" Isis wasn't ignoring him any longer, squirming in an attempt to get him to let her go. "You'd best let me go!"

"Or what? You'll knock me out?"

All things considered, that wasn't really funny but she found herself laughing anyway.

Mark figured she had officially lost her mind. "I don't find that funny."

"Sorry." She giggled, looking up when he turned her around; a broad smile on her pale face. "I thought it was amusin'."

"Isis, tell me what is going on around here." He ordered gently, hearing her laughter die and watched the humor in her eyes fade.

"Let go of me."

"I mean it, tell me."

She considered him for a moment, her mouth turning down into a frown. "Put me down, please." When he simply ignored her, she sighed and kicked him with the tip of her boot.

Mark dropped her with a curse. What was with this woman and purposely hurting him?

Without another word, Isis took off running down the garden path.

He watched her while rubbing his shin, a hint of a smile gracing his lips when she skidded to a halt in front of one of the hedges that lined the backyard. She had nowhere to go. Slowly, leisurely, he made his way towards her.

Now it was Isis letting out a string of curses before turning, considering the shrubbery before her. She hesitated only a moment, then heard his laugh of amusement and gritted her teeth. A second later she was standing on the other side of the hedge, trying to understand just exactly how she had gotten there.

On the bright side however, Mark was no longer laughing.

***

The sun had just set behind the horizon, the sky rapidly going from bloody red and majestic purples to deep blue and near black. Glenn had moved from the porch glider down to stand in the driveway, just enjoying the dusk, the fresh air scented with a hint of pine. He was giving serious consideration to moving out this way, it was just so peaceful, so relaxing.

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't hear the faint crunch of gravel from behind.

"Mr. Jacobs, isn't it?"

Glenn just barely managed to keep himself from jumping, forcing himself to slowly turn around and found Gabriel standing behind him. He felt a bit… self-conscious besides the other man, who made it look so effortless to look like he had just stepped out of some fancy magazine or something. "Yeah, just call me Glenn." He stuck out his hand in a friendly greeting. "Gabriel, right?"

"Yes, I'm Gabriel." He flashed an easy smile, shaking hands. "May I ask what you're doing out here, all alone?"

"I was watching the sunset." Glenn gestured aimlessly, laughing at himself when he realized it was now night, no traces of the day left at all. "Then I guess I got lost in my thoughts."

"That is very easy to do out here, it's quite peaceful." Gabriel said amicably, clapsing his hands behind his back as they fell into an easy step together, walking back towards the house. "How are you enjoying your visit with us?"

"It's great, I was thinking about staying on actually."

"I'm sure Isis would be glad to accommodate you. She is something, isn't she?"

So now they had reached what Gabriel was actually out here for, Glenn hid a smile and just shrugged. "I suppose, I haven't really spoken to her very much. She seems like a nice girl."

Gabriel's face remained cordial. "Do you know where I might find her?"

"Uh… last time I seen her, she was out doing something in the garden."

"With your friend?"

"Mark?"

"Yes, Mark."

"I guess so." Glenn was growing slightly uneasy with the way his best friend's name had come out a hiss on the other man's tongue, clearing his throat. "He went to go find her earlier, when he got back, I mean."

A hint of annoyance flickered across Gabriel's face before his charming smile was hitched back into place. "Would you care to join me for a drink, Glenn?"

"I'm not much of a drinker…"

"Usually, I would ask Damia but she's indisposed at the moment."

Glenn frowned when Gabriel intertwined their arms together in a way too intimate gesture; trying his best to figure out how to not be offensive about letting Gabriel know he wasn't comfortable. "I-"

"I refuse to take no for an answer." Still cordial, so polite, so charming.

"Yes?"

"Excellent."

Chapter 4

A cemetery, Mark had come to a stop in a damn cemetery. Or, at least at the entrance to one. He could hardly see more than a few feet in front of him, the waning moon lighting a limited portion of his way. He could tell this wasn't a public graveyard, but one of the older kinds, a private cemetery, a family cemetery.

"You shouldn't be here, Mark." Isis' voice rang out from beyond his line of vision, an odd note of sadness in her tone.

Carefully, he weaved his way through the old tombstones; noting how some of them were cracked and faded, the scent of decay filling his nostrils. Finally, he found her standing between two, large headstones; looking small and dimunitive, and very young, amongst the old stones.

As he approached, a mausoleum rose from the shadows, just as ancient as everything else that surrounded them.

"What is this place?" He asked when he finally reached her side.

Isis didn't look up, half perched on one of the stones. "Family graveyard." She said lifelessly.

Hunkering down, he stared at the relatively -and by relatively he meant within the past twenty years or so- fresh etchings on the stones until he was able to make out the words. "Who were they?"

There was a long silence followed by: "They were my parents."

"Oh…" Now he felt like a jackass. "I'm sorry."

She half shrugged, finally meeting his gaze. "I was real young when they died, I don't remember them that well."

"That must've been hard."

"Eh… not really, I had Aunt Damia." Isis said thoughtfully, pushing herself into an upright postion and wrapped her arms around herself. "And then eventually Gabriel came to live with us, I think I was twelve or thirteen."

Mark followed her as she strolled away from the tombstones, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. "So was it just you three?"

"No, Aunt Damia had long turned the house into an inn before Gabriel moved in, there was always people around. I'm sure you noticed my Aunt is very pale?"

He could only nod, feeling like they were going to eventually reach the topic that had been on his mind since the night before.

Isis took a deep breath, trying to stomach what she was going to say, what she had always been told but wasn't sure she even believed; if she had ever believed it to begin with. "She has albinism." At his 'huh' look, she rolled her eyes. "She's an albino, dumbass."

Scowling at being called a dumbass, Mark opened his mouth to say something in retaliation and then thought twice about it, shutting up.

"So," Isis continued as if he had never given her that 'go to Hell' look. "Damia spends a lot of time up in her bedroom, especially during the day."

"Have you ever seen her in the daytime?" Mark could not help himself from blurting that one out, well aware that it was her now shooting the dirty looks.

"Yes, I have. Up in her room, it's damn near pitch black in there though." Isis shrugged.

"So if she couldn't be out in the light, who the hell took care of you?"

"Nannies." She said matter-of-factly. "I told you, there were always people around. We had a maid to clean, a cook, a gardner. When Gabriel came, he hired a private tutor for me. It wasn't so bad really."

Gabriel… just thinking the other man's name left a nasty taste in Mark's mouth. "So what happened then? Where are all these people now?"

"Gone."

"Obviously."

"Once I was of age, I sent them all away. Technically, the house is mine." Isis said this all very slowly, obviously hesitant to reveal that information. "The house belonged to my momma, Aunt Damia is my dad's sister and she was only allowed to be executor of the will, you know… until I was legal. I didn't want a million and one people around the house, doing things I could do. I took over their work, it kept me busy."

They walked in silence for awhile, circling the cemetery a few times before coming to a stop before the mausoleum and just stood there; looking around as if they were in a garden and enjoying the view.

"Is he a vampire?" Mark broke the silence with the one question that had been lingering between them, the only question he really wanted an answer too. If only for the sake of his sanity.

Isis was silent for a long while, contemplating that and finally sighed; her shoulders heaving gently. "I don't know, for sure. I mean, I think so… but… Vampires, honestly." She sounded like she was trying to inject a note of self-deprecating humor into her tone. "We both know there ain't no such thing as vampires, don't we?"

"Well, if you would have asked me that a day or two ago, I would have said hell no. Now though, now… I'm not so sure anymore."

"Me either."

***

Glenn was feeling slightly drunk, but he could not recall how he had gotten that way. He had allowed the eerily charming Gabriel to lead him inside and then to a parlor he had never even noticed. The parlor had been so inviting when Glenn had first walked inside; a luxurious mahogany couch that he had been so afraid of sitting on had been the first thing he had seen.

The second was Damia, lounging on what Gabriel had referred to as a 'Recamier' couch, something Glenn had only seen in old movies. She looked like she had stepped out of an old movie, one of those glorious vintage, black and white movies; in a slinky black cocktail gown.

She had been just as polite, just as charming as Gabriel was and so easy to talk too. She was also astonishingly beautiful in the dancing flames from the many candles that covered every open surface in the room. He had originally thought of her as a 'handsome' woman whenever he had seen her at the dinner table, but now…

Now she was something otherworldly entirely. Her brown eyes were no longer plain but sparkling, reflecting light while drawing it in at the same time; reminding him of a jewel being turned in sunlight. Her auburn hair wasn't in the updo he had come to associate with her either, instead hanging loose down her back in gentle waves, each strand seeming to catch the light the same way her eyes were.

Of course, that could have also been the wine talking.

How much had he drank? He couldn't recall, it seemed he kept on drinking and drinking but his glass never seemed to empty. Gabriel must have kept refilling it, but Glenn couldn't recall seeing Gabriel moving from his place by the marble mantle; sipping from his own goblet.

"I think… I better slow… down…" He finally mumbled, staring down into the still full glass. "This is some strong…. Strong wine."

Gabriel and Damia exchanged slightly amused smiles, missed completely by Glenn.

***

Mark didn't know how long he and Isis had stood there before the mausoleum, just staring at each other through the darkness. All around them the sounds of the night filled in the silence, a symphony of nocturnal birds; bugs and wind gently whistling through the trees.

When the silence became so oppressive that it was drowning out the other sounds, Mark felt like he had to say something before he began screaming; just to shatter the quiet. "How long has this… This- how long has all this with Gabriel been goin' on?" He finally asked; hearing her sharp intake of breath.

For a brief moment, Isis was very tempted to tell him that he must have been imagining things again but knew they were past that point. "Years, maybe." She admitted reluctantly, ignoring the incredulous sound he made. "I don't remember exactly when it started… I was around twenty, five years ago… I started waking up outside."

Mark didn't say anything, just folded his arms over his chest.

"At first I thought I was just sleepwalking, I wasn't too worried about it but I did tell Aunt Damia, just to be on the safe side. I figured since she was such a night owl, she could kinda keep an eye on me. But if kept on happening, and then… then the blood."

"Like last night?"

"Yes."

"But there weren't any wounds."

"There never are." Isis confessed, scratching her neck distractedly. "But I wake up and sometimes there's blood on my throat, or my nightie… Sometimes, even around my mouth, like I- Like I was doing the biting."

That was a mental picture that came all too easily to Mark and he found he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it. On one hand, it was disgusting; the idea of her drinking blood. On the other… just imagining her lips attached to a throat, sucking…

Mark cleared his throat, shaking his head.

What Isis wasn't telling him was that recently, things had started changing for her. Physically, mentally… changes she didn't understand and had tried ignoring but that wasn't working out so well anymore.

Things like the color of her skin. Only last summer she had been a golden brown, tanned from working outside so much and now she was pale; not quite as pale as Damia or Gabriel but she was getting there. Her hearing and vision were changing as well… Sounds came so much clearer now, like she had been listening to a radio on a bad station and only now bothered changing the dial. Her sight… there was simply no way of describing it, the way she saw things.

But that had a downside because now everything was tinged with bloody red shades.

It was a bit like some switch had been flipped in her brain, affecting how she thought; the way she viewed the world.

Isis rather liked the changes but she was afraid of them as well.

When she took a deep breath, a low groan escaped her lips as something delicious was filling her nostrils; making her mouth water. Something earthy, like dark; rich dirt, the kind she grew her roses in. But it wasn't entirely dirt either, there was something else… Something musky, a scent she didn't recognize.

But it smelled so good.

Mark was a little more than shocked when Isis took a step towards him; hearing the rustle of her clothes against his as she pressed into him. "You okay, kid?"

"Mmhm." She murmured, leaning her head forward and inhaled. "You have… a delicious aroma…"

He was fairly certain there were little question marks dancing around his head, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders. "I don't understand."

"You smell good."

"Oh… thanks, I think." It was more than a little weird to have her sniffing at him but he didn't know how to react, there wasn't really any social situations that prepared you for this. Unless of course, she would have been drunk and coming onto him, then it would have all been explained away.

The red was back in her vision, outlining and obscuring Mark all at once; making him appear a giant beacon, a target in the darkness. But then, the darkness wasn't really a problem either because she could see him so well, so vividly…

Oblivious to her thoughts, Mark absentmindedly moved one hand from her shoulder to run his fingertips across her face; noting how smooth her skin was. How cold it was. "You're beautiful." He said quietly, watching as she caught his hand and held it to her cheek. "But you know that, don't you?"

"No."

"Very beautiful…"

Isis watched through half closed eyes as his head inclined towards hers, turning her mouth up to his; their lips meeting in a tentative kiss.

Hesitant at first, Isis kept the kiss chaste; the cool firmness of his lips against hers sending pleasant tingles down her spine. She kept her eyes open in order to watch his eyelashes as they fluttered against his skin, each individual lash seeming to be encased in a pulsating reddish glow.

He was gently coaxing her lips to part, applying more pressure to the kiss while snaking an arm around her waist in order to draw her closer to him; their bodies snugly pressed together. When Isis broke the kiss in favor of brushing her lips down his throat; he didn't think nothing of it.

It felt so good, the way she latched onto his pulse point, sucking and nipping gently.

Then she bit him.

Isis had no idea how it had happened or what had really gone on until Mark was shoving her away; letting out a gasp of surprise and loss as she stumbled back; catching herself before she collided with one of the tombstones.

Bewildered, she ran her tongue along her upper lip and then the bottom; tasting blood and worked hard to keep from groaning longingly. Blood, she had tried to drink his blood and the frightening part was that she had enjoyed it, that she wanted to attack his throat again, inhale his appealing scent while drinking from him.

"Jesus Christ!" Mark cursed, a hand clamped to the side of his throat as if he had expected to find it torn open when in fact it was nothing more than two tiny puncture wounds. "You bit me!"

It was taking her awhile to recover herself, shaking her head to clear out the fog that had ascended and blanked her mind. When she finally had shoved aside the crimson mist, everything came crashing down on her; stifling her.

Mark could only watch as Isis collapsed to the ground in tears, sobbing over and over again the words 'I didn't mean too' and growled in frustration. When he had shoved her away, he had expected to see fangs and bloody iris' aimed in his direction and the truth was, all he was really seeing was a scared young woman who had no idea what was going on.

Cautiously, he approached her, hunkering down in order to reach out a hand that he was quite disconcerted to see trembling, and touched her arm. "Isis?"

"I didn't mean too… I, I'm sorry…" Isis shrugged him off, crab crawling backwards until she hit a grave and then used it to pull herself upright; refusing to meet his gaze.

What had Gabriel done to her? Was she becoming whatever it was he was? A vampire?

"I didn't mean too…" She whispered again, brushing tears out of her eyes.

This only confirmed what they had both been talking about and skirting around, vampires existed and now she was becoming one of them. Mark didn't know when the mental breakdown he was due to have was coming but he was expecting it at any moment. "I need to go find Glenn…" He finally said, wishing he wasn't feeling sorry for her. She had tried to eat him, Lord knew he shouldn't feel anything but disgust, fear and hate for her. "We have to get out of here, Isis, I can't stay here anymore."

"Alright, you're right." She nodded, seeming to draw strength from some inner source and looked at him, her pale face looking pinched in the dim moonlight. "The quickest way back to the house is through the mausoleum."

"Through the mausoleum?" He echoed, staring at her in disbelief. "Why can't we just go back the way we came?"

"Can you see in the dark?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

Chapter 5

"So sweet… Gabriel, darling, you were so right about him, he is simply divine." Damia purred; running her fingers through Glenn's curly locks slowly; ignoring his low moan of pain. "We should have done this days ago."

Gabriel looked on with a grim smile, taking in the pleasing to the eye trails of blood that ran down Glenn's bare, muscular chest. Getting the giant lug drunk hadn't been hard, the man was so polite that he had been unable to turn down the refills, or would have been, if he'd been aware his cup had been constantly kept full. "Are you going to finish him?"

"I left you some, darling, come share with me." She beckoned, her knowing eyes fastening with his. Gabriel's slight shake of the head made her chuckle. "She's with Mark, there will be no feasting on my niece tonight."

Sneering, he pushed away from the wall where he had been leaning; storming over to grasp her chin in a steel grip. "Your niece… will come to me, Damia, I can feel her hunger."

"So… we should save her some then, shouldn't we?"

Going inside a mausoleum was at the top of Mark's 100 things I never want to do list, going through an underground tunnel from the mausoleum to the house was on that list as well. As they had crept along the pitch black, narrow path Isis had explained how it had been made in 1853 as part of the Underground Railroad.

She was leading, one hand out as if to feel her way when in truth she could see perfectly, her other hand behind her, encased in his. She had explained how the tunnel ran beneath the ground and connected the mausoleum to the drawing room in the house; how it had been used to run escaped slaves out to the woods back before the Civil War.

For the most part, it had been all but forgotten, she had only stumbled upon the tunnel accidentally when she was twelve but had never mentioned it to her Aunt Damia. When she had taken over the house, she had considered making a reference to it when she had done her little tours -the house had been standing since before the Civil War, though it had also been updated, repaired, added onto- in the beginning but hadn't.

The tours had ended as well, she wasn't really keen on talking to a bunch of people.

"You sure you know where you're going, kid?" Mark asked softly from behind her, unable to keep the trepidation from his voice. He did not like this at all, the tunnel smelled like stale dirt -which is what it was basically- and he couldn't see even a half inch in front of his nose.

"This tunnel is virtually a straight path, there aren't any detours or side paths, impossible to get lost down here." Isis replied dully, glancing over her shoulder at him. A half smirked lifted the corners of her mouth as she took in the look on his face.

If not for the fact that her vision was still tinged in red, it would have been amusing.

Turning her attention back to before her, she inhaled deeply; groaning from low in her throat. They were almost there…

…and she could smell blood.

Glenn was barely conscious, his mind having all but shut down to block out what had been happening. Even through his drunken haze, he had been able to realize that he was being sucked on, literally. And not in the good 'I picked her up at the bar' way either, but sucked on like a mosquito would suck on a juicy person.

Or the way a baby would slurp at a bottle…

Or a vampire would drain a person of their blood…

Vampires, that was what his mind had so violently blocked. There were no such thing as vampires, it defied all reason; all logic.

Of course, he wasn't shut down completely, he could still feel whenever one of their cold hands caressed his abused flesh; when a nimble finger flitted over one of the puncture wounds, numerous puncture wounds.

"We could turn him…" The woman -Damia, the foggy part of his mind that wasn't cowering from the insanity of it all threw up at him- said, almost purring her words. "Make him one of us…"

"Not a chance, I don't want him." That was Gabriel's icy, bored drawl.

"Maybe I do."

"Whatever for?"

Damia let out a girlish giggle that did not suit her at all, it was evil sounding, causing chills to break out over Glenn's skin. "Because I do."

"You're decision."

"This is it." Isis announced after what seemed like an eternity to Mark; guiding his hand until it rested against what was unmistakably a wooden door. "This leads right into the drawing room."

And to them, she mentally added, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Disgust with herself for finding the scents wafting from behind that door appealing. The scents were blood. Glenn's she was guessing, though she wasn't telling Mark that. She didn't know how deep his goodwill went towards her after she had bit him and she wasn't too keen on finding out.

Granted, she was freakishly strong -she didn't exactly know how strong as it had never been tested- but she wasn't planning on letting Mark be the test case, he was much bigger than her and looked like he could easily snap her in half.

Nodding, Mark closed his eyes, knowing if that room was lit up, he was going to wind up suffering momentary blindness while his eyes adjusted.

There was a soft click as a lock was turned, followed by the creaking of the old door opening, the hinges protesting after years of unuse. He felt Isis' much smaller hand slipping into his, she was tugging him forward again.

"Duck your head about a foot." She cautioned softly, waiting until he had done so before guiding him through the narrow door and into the drawing room; her eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. The smell of blood was so much stronger now, taking over all the other scents vying for notice; including sweat and perfume, strong wine…

She wanted to tell him to turn around and run, to not open his eyes; just go as fast as his legs could carry him but she couldn't get the words out of her mouth. Not as if it would have mattered, he wouldn't have listened to her regardless.

Mark was listening, waiting impatiently until he could open his eyes and finally chanced cracking one open. The light didn't bother him so he opened both eyes, reeling in shock at what he seen.

Glenn was chained before an unlit fireplace, bare from the waist up save from the delicate but strong silver links that bound him in place. Puncture wounds and blood accented his naked flesh, small raised welts that formed jagged lines along his skin; lines from fingernails.

He was also unconscious, his head hanging down, chin tucked against his chest while his brown; curly hair spilled over his shoulders, damp with sweat.

Isis felt Mark tensing to move and whirled around to stare at him, her eyes wide. "Mark, no-" She grunted as he pushed past her, the surprise making her move more than anything else. While he only had eyes for his friend, she had spotted Gabriel and Damia.

Damia was merely staring thoughtfully at her niece while Gabriel was smiling, examining her with a knowing gleam in his eye.

All those times Isis had thought she had been sleep walking, the dreams that by the light of day she had convinced herself were just that: dreams, were all… wrong. She hadn't been sleep walking and they hadn't been just dreams. It was all real and she unconsciously felt her neck as if expecting the puncture wounds that she had never seen to finally be there.

Gabriel laughed at that action, shaking his head slowly and held out a hand to her.

Fighting the compulsion to cross the drawing room floor to him, Isis shook her head; forcing away all the thoughts that weren't completely her own but… somehow implanted by him, maybe. It felt like her blood was simmering just beneath her skin, making her flush as she finally managed to tear her eyes from him.

Mark was gently slapping Glenn's face, trying to rouse his friend and also trying to avoid looking down. "C'mon you pussy, wake up…" He coaxed, threading his fingers in Glenn's soaked hair and pulled his head back, landing another not so gentle slap on the other man's face. "Glenn!"

He heard a territorial hiss from behind him and abruptly let go, whirling around and finally realized that there were others in the room. He automatically recognized Gabriel, who was now regarding Mark as if he were some sort of annoying bug and then there was Damia, looking more animated then he had ever seen her.

In fact, she was looking downright terrifying, her sharp eyeteeth bared at him though her eyes kept darting between him and Glenn.

It took a second before it came to him, she was staking her claim on Glenn. On Mark's best friend.

"No chance in hell, bitch." He spat at her, ignoring Isis' admonishments to shut up as he placed himself between the vampiress and his friend. "You can just-" He shut up when she took a step forward; unable to keep himself from likening her to a feral cat, a predator and swallowed hard.

Damia shot Gabriel a dark look, as if she was blaming him for this.

Gabriel merely shrugged, his eyes never leaving Isis.

"Mark, she'll kill you." Isis whispered, licking her dry lips; trying not to look at Gabriel.

A low purr escaped Damia's throat, she seemed to like that idea.

"Isis, my dear, we weren't expecting you… so soon." Gabriel finally spoke, watching as both humans cringed; his mouth curving ever so slightly. "Were we, Damia?"

"Indeed not." Damia still wasn't moving from her half crouch, nor looking away from Mark; her fingers flexing and unflexing into claws.

"Aunt Damia…?" Isis murmured weakly, taking several wobbly steps forward in order to grasp the back of a chair to steady herself; feeling like her knees would give out at any moment. "What'd you do to Glenn?"

"We were hungry." Gabriel said with an elegant shrug, pulling a handkerchief from the inside of his coat pocket and daintily blotted his lips.

Something about that gesture was so perverse it made her stomach twist in knots.

"Well, I suppose, since you're here, we can just finish what we've been working on, my dear." He began walking towards her; huffing when she actually tried backing away only to trip over her own two feet. "Isis, there simply is no point in fighting me on this, especially after how you've been so… willing… thus far."

She colored a brilliant shade of pink but didn't say anything; her hands grasping out for something to hold onto. "No!"

Mark -who had been silently watching all the while keeping an eye on the ready to pounce Damia- had heard enough. He cleared his throat, making to say something only to watch as Gabriel moved. Only… he didn't move… He seemed to vanish and then reappear right in front of Isis.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who found that startling, Isis let out a shriek and would have toppled backwards again if not for Gabriel's pale hands clamping down on her shoulders.

"No!" She screamed again, thrashing against him as he drew her closer; her eyes widening in terror. "No!"

Damia was taking advantage of Mark's stunned lapse to attack; literally leaping onto him, her dress ripping loudly in the process.

With a surprised grunt, he fell; using his forearm to hold her snapping teeth at bay though there was nothing he could do about her rather sharp fingernails. Trying not to think of his impending doom, he reached backwards with his free hand; trying not to think about Glenn even though he had just brushed against his friend's leg, fumbling for something…

…anything.

Chapter 6

When Mark woke up, he was laying facedown on a thinly carpeted floor; grit and what felt like ash grinding uncomfortably beneath his face. Groaning softly, he cracked one eye open to see swirls of dust lazily floating in a stream of sunshine that managed to peek through the mostly closed curtains.

"Glenn," He managed to get out, trying to understand why his throat felt like someone had gone to town with a sheet of sandpaper on it. "I am not goin' on anymore benders with you."

He didn't get a response and snorted; instantly regretting it as it only stirred up the dust beneath his face causing him to break out coughing.

When the fit had subsided, Mark gingerly pushed himself off the floor; slowly dragging his legs up into a kneeling position and looked around; ignoring the throbbing ache in his forehead. "Glenn?"

"He's right here, Mark." He heard Isis' husky whisper from behind him, knowing he did not want to turn around. There was something achingly desperate in her tone, sad but… desperate. "I have… have him."

The events of the previous night began flooding his unwilling mind, closing his eyes against the barrage of memories that assaulted him. He had half convinced himself it was all a dream but… no, it couldn't be.

All the vampire movies he had ever seen, the stories he had heard, books he had read came to mind and a small part of him idly wondered if any of it were true, besides the part about not being able to go out at night, because thus far he hadn't seen any evidence to the contrary.

Now that he was completely awake and more aware of his surroundings, he couldn't help but notice the other proof that Damia and Gabriel had been real. Emphasis on had. For some reason -and he blamed all those movies- he had expected vampires to go up in dust, smoke and flames or maybe just age rapidly until they finally kicked it.

Instead it had been much worse and he was coated in the reminder.

When vampires -even ones as ancient as Gabriel and Damia had been- died, they did not turn to dust, burn or suffer from advance aging. Instead, they began to bleed from every orifice they had.

The mere recollection of it caused him to scramble off the floor and onto his feet; staring at his hands. His blood coated hands.

Mark grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled it away from his skin, wincing when it came away with a hint of resistance, dried blood having made it stuck to his flesh. On the floor, where he had been laying was even more blood; the skin sack that had been Damia not too far off ; draped clingingly over an ancient skeleton.

When she had knocked him to the floor, he had reached for anything that could be effectively used as a weapon; finally hitting pay dirt when his fingers had wrapped around the fire poker. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to get her with it, maybe he had bashed it against her head… but somehow, he had jammed the poker straight through her chest.

Maybe the old 'stake through the heart' did have some merit after all.

She had began to scream, a scream so loud and shrill, seemingly endless and he had been afraid his eardrums would burst. Blood had seeped from her nostrils, ears, mouth, from her eyes; at first in slow rivulets but increased to a rapidly flowing stream.

And she had died.

That was all he could remember.

Mark became aware that Isis was still watching him and whirled around to stare down at her. "Your cousin, Gabriel, what happened to him?" He demanded gruffly, pulling his shirt over his head and tossed it aside; desperately craving a shower.

She managed a wan smile, carefully removing her right hand from beneath Glenn's head and raised it up.

It took him a moment to realize that her hand was stained with dried blood; especially dark around her fingernails where it had crusted.

"That abnormal strength… I finally realized where I got it from." She murmured, not looking away from him; even as he continued to stare at her hand, an odd smile on her face. "So I figured it was only poetic justice to use it on the one who gave it to me."

"You killed him?"

"I ripped out his heart… It's an odd feeling, you know… to just plunge your hand into someone's chest." Isis said musingly, twisting and flexing her hand. "To use enough force, enough strength… to break through the chest bone."

Mark didn't want to hear anymore. Instead, he focused on Glenn. "Is he going to be alright? Did they…"

"Yes, they drank from him and I have no idea…"

Still not what he wanted to hear.

It was nearing dark the next time Mark spoke to Isis. He had helped her carry Glenn upstairs to one of the bedrooms and then he had vacated, unable to be around either of them. Isis because… because he knew instinctively that she was changing, becoming what Damia and Gabriel had been. A vampire, and he knew when that finally happened, he was going to have to either kill her, run away or be eaten.

And Glenn… He just couldn't see his best friend in that condition. He had popped in around midday while Isis was downstairs doing something, and had almost immediately walked right back out.

Almost.

Glenn's chest and throat; his shoulders, all looked like he had been… mauled. Feasted on, which technically, he had been.

It just made Mark feel sick to his stomach, and angry.

"He's awake." She murmured when he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. She had come outside and found Mark sitting on the porch steps, halting a few paces behind him. "He's askin' for you."

Mark just grunted.

"I think he should be alright…" She trailed off uncertaintly. "I mean, I don't know if he'll turn or not… but he should live."

"Be it as a human or a vampire?"

"What does that matter? So long as he's alive?"

At that, he finally turned his head to stare at her over his shoulder; wondering if the woman was serious. "How do you figure that one, hm Isis?"

She began backing away as he stood up.

"Being a vampire would be better than being dead? Being like Damia? Or Gabriel? You think that's the better choice?" He demanded, filling in the space between them and reached out to cup her chin; tilting her head back so he could study her face intently. "You're looking pale… paler, I should say. You have circles under your eyes."

Isis simply shrugged.

He wasn't moved by her sudden silence, how she had retreated into herself now that the focus was on her. Ignoring the way she kept her jaw clenched, Mark pried her mouth open and studied her teeth, shaking his head in disgust. "I thought… you know, when the head vamp died, you'd be alright."

She snapped her teeth at him, eyes narrowing as he barely withdrew his fingers away before she caught them. "I don't know how it works." She said defensively. "All I do know is that my head aches, I'm thirsty and everythin' is red."

Given that she had just tried to literally take a bite out of him, he decided discretion was the better part of valor and stepped back.

"I won't bite you."

That wasn't reassuring either, in fact, there wasn't much she had said today that was assuring.

Rolling her eyes, Isis stormed back inside.

"Water…" Glenn murmured hoarsely, groping outwardly with a blind hand. A smaller, cooler hand found his and he squeezed, opening his eyes slowly as Isis' concerned face came into view. He tried to help as she eased an arm under his head; raising it until a cup was pressing against his lips.

"Slowly now." She cautioned, watching with concern as he took a sip only to immediately spit it right back out with a disgusted groan. "Sorry Glenn… I know, it tastes like dirt."

He was fumbling to wipe his mouth off, still staring at her. She did look sorry but he had know idea why, what had she done? Then bits and pieces of the other night began to steal over him. "How… how long have I been out?" He asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Three days."

"The last thing I remember is drinking with your cousin, where's he at?"

Isis flinched, glancing down at her clenched fist and slowly pulled her other arm out from beneath his head; folding both arms over her chest in a defensive posture. "He's dead."

"Dead?" Glenn echoed stupidly, blinking owlishly.

"Try to remember." She urged gently. It took a few moments but Isis was fairly certain it was coming back to him because his face had suddenly lost what little color it had retained and he was trying to raise the blanket off his chest. "Glenn…" Leaning forward, she captured his hands before he could see the damage. "Don't, don't waste what strength you have."

"Isis…" He was panting with the effort of trying to free himself, feeling so weak and it made him want to cry. He had never felt this helpless before. She was nothing but a scrawny girl and she was holding him down, it was something he had never felt and hoped he would never feel ever again. "Isis… It's not real, vampires aren't real."

He sounded perilously close to having a breakdown but this wasn't a conversation that Isis felt could be postponed either. "Yes, they are."

The matter of fact tone she said it in made his face crumple.

When it looked like he was about to cry, she got up and walked away to give him a bit of privacy. After another round of silence, punctuated with Glenn's heavy breaths as he attempted to control himself, she finally chanced looking at him.

"Open the curtains." He murmured tonelessly.

"That's not a very good idea… it's daytime and-"

"Will I go up in flames?" His tone was getting life in it, a dangerous sort of life, cynical.

"Well, no, but-"

"Then open the curtains."

After taking a brief moment to slide her sunglasses into place, Isis did and even then, she still winced as the bright sunlight flooded the room; unconsciously stepping back into the shadows.

"CLOSE THE CURTAINS!"

With a sigh of relief, she did.

Slowly, Glenn eased himself up until he was half reclining on his pillows staring at her with a frown marring his face. "You're red." He said finally, sounding confused and concerned.

Isis knew that he didn't mean red as in red in the face or some such nonsense. He meant that she was literally red, but then, so was everything else for that matter. All of it tinged in brilliant shades of red; like looking through a stained piece of glass almost. "So are you."

In less than a week Mark found himself with two invalids on his hands and he didn't understand it. Glenn had seemed to be recovering only to relapse back into his weakness; soon followed by Isis. He knew what the cause of their weakness was, he just didn't know how to cure it.

Besides the obvious.

He was currently sitting in the kitchen at the table with a cold beer in front of him, contemplating his situation. He couldn't just leave Glenn, the man was his best friend and he couldn't leave Isis. As much as he hated to admit it, she was… special, to him.

Which bothered him a bit, all things considered. She had been nothing but a massive pain in his rear but for some ungodly reason, he cared about her.

"Damn…" He muttered, trailing a finger down the sweating neck of his bottle before picking it up. He paused midway to his mouth when he heard something outside. Frowning, he cocked his head and listened, hearing it only getting louder.

If it was getting louder, that meant it was getting closer.

Cursing under his breath, he pushed away from the table and headed out to the front porch.

Somehow, he was not surprised to see a literal mob of people coming up the gravel driveway, less so to find that Isis' spurned would be lover, Marty, leading them. Mentally rolling his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the column, arching an eyebrow. "What the hell do you want, son?" He asked in a calm, cool voice; knowing angering these people more than already were would be just suicidal.

"What do you think?" The youth snarled, oblivious that those green eyes weren't on him but on everyone else, taking inventory of their assembled weaponry. "We're here for the vamps!"

A small cheer went up from the collective behind him.

Mark had counted a few actual pitchforks, flashlights, baseball bats, two tire irons and four torches. It was something out of a movie for sure and he didn't like it at all. "You folks just go on home." He ordered in a clear, carrying voice. "There's no vampires," He couldn't believe he had just said that aloud in front of so many people. "here, just some very sick people."

"We're going to cure all their illnesses!" A woman shouted from the back, receiving a lot of cries of approval.

He had no idea what to do. He knew damn well he could handle himself in a fair or semi-fair fight, but against this many people? Hell no. Isis and Glenn would definitely not make it, they could barely stand as it was.

With that thought in mind, he turned and darted inside with a lot more speed than he would have ever given himself credit for, slamming and locking the door behind him. Not that that would do much good in the long run but… maybe it would buy some time.

"Mark? What's goin' on?"

Groaning under his breath, he looked towards the stairs to find Isis and Glenn slowly making their way down; leaning on each other as they did. "Town's out there, they're out for blood Isis."

She inhaled deeply and groaned. "Marty."

"He seems to be the ringleader." Mark was a bit surprised at how calmly she was taking this, stepping forward to help her and Glenn navigate the last couple of steps.

"Not surprising."

Mark was a bit confused when she and Glenn both cocked their heads to the right and inhaled. It was confusing but… it was also creepy, he realized as a shiver coursed through him. They were scenting the air. Like dogs or something.

Very, very creepy.

"We have to go." Isis whispered urgently, pushing away from Mark in order to try stepping forward. "Right now…" The frustration was evident in her tone when she only collapsed backwards into the safety of his arms.

The question on the tip of his tongue was answered when a lit bottle came flying through a window, the shattering glass making him jump. It took a moment to register that there was a booze soaked cloth twisted inside the half empty bottle, lit, flaming… and catching everything it touched on fire.

More bottles followed.

"We have to go!" Glenn bellowed, snapping Mark out of his stupor.

Marty had broken down the door, ignoring the fire that was beginning to rage around them and looked around; his gaze landing on Isis. "Where's your precious Auntie?" He demanded, taking in the way she and the other man both appeared; sickly and weak.

"Dead." Was the flat reply.

"No preacher or undertaker was ever called."

"No one was told."

"Where's the body?"

Mark had to give the whelp a hint of credit, he wasn't exactly stupid. Well, on the other hand… they were lingering in a burning down house.

Isis just glared at Marty.

It was obvious he didn't believe her, exchanging looks with some of his mob fellows who had joined him.

"Don't buy that shit, look at her and that other feller. They're both vampires too!"

When Marty actually lurched forward as if to attack, Mark met him. Isis took what little advantage they had and took Glenn's hand, using what precious strength was left to her to guide him into the drawing room. Understandably, Glenn hesitated but with the choice of being burnt alive or walking into the room he had discovered old myths weren't myths at all… He went inside.

Mark heard Isis calling to him and knew she had opened the secret door, throwing one last final punch at Marty before shoving him backwards into his friends. While they went tumbling, he turned to navigate his way through the smoke and flames.

"I'm never going on vacation again…."

"I grew up in that house." Isis whispered, tears brimming in her eyes though they didn't fall.

Mark had no idea what to say and settled for wrapping his arm around her shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, never looking away from the now completely ablaze inn. Somehow they had made it through the tunnel, through the cemetery and then finally covered what was left of the woods and made it to a hill, where they had stopped.

Glenn was sitting with one long leg stretched out before him, the other propped up. He slowly reached out to tug on Mark's pant leg, smiling tiredly when his best friend glanced down at him and patted the spot beside him.

Carefully, Mark lowered himself along with Isis down onto the grass; feeling her immediately leaning into him. This little excursion had drained them, he was surprised they were awake let alone fairly alert. But regardless of their alertness, they both seemed so much paler… so much weaker than they had been only an hour ago.

He was losing them and didn't know what to do to stop it. Would he have to watch them die?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden change; a tensing in each body on either side of him. That was followed by two identical piercing pains, one on each side of his throat. The last coherent thought Mark had as he felt his blood coursing through his veins, being drawn out by the vampires now feeding on him, was that at least he was doing something about their dying.