Disclaimer

º If you haven't read the disclaimers in the prologue and part 1 ... then continue at your own peril.
º Thanks to my beta's Kerri-Ann, Xavacid, and Nic.

º Warning: Intimacy of between two male characters. Miranda/OC. Violence.
º Authors note: No surgery in the near future for now. But Pain management isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sigh.

º Feedback: Tastes like chicken. I love chicken.

Upon this bed of briars

These summonings were becoming quite tedious and rather inconvenient.

"Mom, it's okay."

Caroline looked up from her homework and smiled, the gesture warming her green eyes. Red hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail, her body was stretched belly down on the floor, surrounded by a fortress of pillows. A stack of books rested at her elbow, one lay open, her face having been moments ago buried in the black and white print. A pen now, rested in the crevice.

"We'll watch the movie with you another time."

Miranda shifted guiltily in her armchair, glanced down at her watch. The car would have arrived by now. She resented the intrusion on her night with the girls. In truth, she'd needed this down-time with them, probably more than they did. Still she detested letting them down. But Miranda was grateful, however, her girls were at least understanding about her duties to the court in a way they had never been when it came to her devotion to Runway.

"Are you certain?" Miranda hedged. "Because I...

"Mo-om," Cassidy drawled the word out, rolling her green eyes as though exasperated. "It's not world-ending." She leaned back against the bottom of the couch, a notebook balanced in the opening between her up-drawn knees and belly. Textbooks littered the floor around her like a scattered deck of cards. "Go." She brushed the red flyaway strands from her face and tucked them behind her ears. "We'll be fine."

They would. Miranda knew that. But they were maturing so quickly and she'd missed so much of it. Had allowed time to slip through her fingers and she felt she was only just beginning to know them. So much about them seemed different day to day. In so many ways, they seemed well beyond their years and then within the time it took to blink they were just eleven-year-old girls again.

She blamed herself.

One sensationalized divorce after another, the girls had grown up quickly, developed thick enough skin to buttress them against the tabloids. They'd had to contend at early ages with what they were, had learned to hide it, camouflage day after day. Still their peers, even those the girls considered friends thought of the twins as ... creepy.

Miranda held out her arms and the twins were off the floor and in her embrace immediately, wrapping their arms around their mom's waist. She soaked up the comfort of the familiar aware that something was missing. She was cognitive of the fact that her children unconsciously sensed it and were as hungry for something to complete their circle as was she.

"I'll make it up to you," she promised.

"We know." Cassidy grinned up at her, devilment twinkling in her eyes.

Caroline giggled, mirroring her sister's impish expression.

"Right." Miranda chuckled, rolled her eyes and wondered what indeed her girls would manage to wheedle out of her for this. In truth she didn't care. Anything they wanted within reason they could have, just knowing she wasn't leaving with them resentful of her missing their Wednesday night movie appointment.

She withdrew from the hug and kissed each redhead on the cheek.

"Be good." Miranda stood, headed toward the foyer where she retrieved her coat and bag, her heart warming as the girls followed her to the door.

"Mom?"

Miranda paused at the entrance. "Yes darling." She turned to Caroline.

"Have you heard from Andy yet?"

Her smile slipped a little. "No. I haven't." It had been well over a week since Andrea had walked away from her again.

"Oh." Both girls frowned.

"I'm sure she's fine." Miranda offered with a confidence she didn't exactly feel. She wasn't sure how Andrea was faring only that she was alive and that Christian had not yet found her. "She's probably very busy."

"Okay." Caroline replied. "We just wondered." Cassidy nodded. Though they seemed rather ambivalent, their mother had not missed the quick veiled glance the twins had shared. Miranda studied her girls feeling a trickle of suspicion and unease that she quickly dismissed with another glance at her watch.

"Mummy needs to go."

"We love you." Both girls chimed.

Miranda nodded and hurried out the door and to the waiting car.

She had never been fond of white cars.

Yupanqui was not without his taste for extravagances, it seemed, when it came to her.

The opulence of the white limousine offended her sensibilities. It was much too big and smacked of a pretentiousness she held in little regard.

The door was held open for her and Miranda slid into the large backseat, suited with luxuries that were never used. A plasma screen tilted downward from the ceiling; a music system which she suspected would thump the nearest cars off the road if cranked just loud enough, piped the latest in chamber music (which Miranda despised) through the surround system and a mini bar and hors d'œuvre platter boasted rare and no doubt sumptuous treats Miranda never found the ability to stomach on these rides.

My god. She was beginning to wonder if Yupanqui hadn't found a way to pipe direct satellite or DSL into his lair for QVC or online shopping.

She knew she was guilty of spoiling her girls but even for her this type of extravagance was a little insane.

Her mind wandered, thoughts picking up the thread of suspicion from moments before.

At least once a day the girls inquired of Andrea. Miranda still could not puzzle out her daughters' intrigue with the journalist/now fledgling vampire.

She would chalk it up to simple politeness but her girls had not quite reached that age when politeness was practiced for its own sake.

Perhaps their affinity had simply stemmed from having witnessed the first stages of the girl's downfall: the drugging of her wine in that restaurant and having seen the consequences of that ill-fated dinner. Andrea, though unconscious at the time had been a constant presence in their home. A presence, which had been felt and sensed.

Of course returning home and finding the young woman gone would have affected them, Miranda reasoned.

Miranda sighed and turned her gaze to the passenger window, outside it the passing scenery of Manhattan's nightlife went unnoticed by her.

"Caroline, come on."

Cassidy urged her sister up the stairs. They slipped into the guest room which had once been Stephen's and which they now thought of as Andy's.

"Hurry up." Caroline whispered watching the door, keeping an eye out for the nanny whilst her sister rummaged through the drawers where her mother kept some of Andy's possessions stored. Caroline inhaled the lingering fragrance on the air, her brow furrowing but not from displeasure. "Mom still comes in here a lot."

"I know. Sometimes she works on the Book in here." Cassidy answered casually as though it were the most normal thing in the world for their mom to spend an enormous amount of time in a room where a former second assistant very close to dying had slept in the bed. "She misses her."

"Why didn't she make her stay?" Caroline's frowned creased her brow as she tried to understand adult logic.

"Adults are stupid—I got it!"

Caroline agreeing with her sister's assessment glanced over her shoulder at the triumphant segue and studied the blue silk scarf, dangling from Cassidy's fingers. One of the scarves her mom had used to protect Andy's eyes from sunlight. They'd been changed daily but unlike the scarves her mom wore around her neck, they hadn't been sent out for dry cleaning.

The girls had their theories as to why that might be. In any case, they were glad of it.

Cassidy held it to her nose and smiled fondly. "It smells like her. Kind of..." Cassidy struggled to find the right words, "...like a forest after the rain."

Caroline felt a mild twinge. She eyed the silk cloth with envy.

"Here." Cassidy grinned and held the scarf out to her.

Returning the smile Caroline mimicked her sister in holding the scarf to her nose. She breathed in the scent ... but it smelled more like early autumn when the leaves were just beginning to turn.
 
"Will it be enough?" She passed the scarf back to Cassidy.

"Should be."

The girls continued to discuss their plans in hushed whispers as they made their way to Cassidy's room. Cassidy burrowed deep in her closet and pulled out a small lock box. She opened it and retrieved a small pendant: both girls sharing a look of guilt over their possession of it and how that possession had been gained.

It hadn't been intentional.

Andy had been in such a hurry to flee the house that night, she hadn't even noticed it had slipped from the chain on her wrist after having been snagged on the banister. The girls had noticed. At the time, having felt no guilt over the mean spirited prank they'd played on their mom's then assistant.

That had changed.

Everything had changed for them that night.

Cassidy had talked Caroline into sneaking down the stairs to retrieve the treasure. They had argued over how and where to hide it for the girl to find, or if they should just keep it. They had come to the conclusion that it didn't matter since their mom would probably fire her the following day for coming up the stairs.

They'd giggled and had called her fat and dumb for even listening to them to begin with.

The next argument had devolved into who would keep it first. This had proved pointless that night as the girls had ended up sleeping in Cassidy's room, unnerved by the ugly argument between their mom and Stephen which Andy's interruption hadn't brought an end to as the twins had hoped.

They'd passed it back and forth between them. It was a pretty pendant: a silver sunburst, the shape was that of a lion's head with a mane.

Cassidy had fallen to sleep clutching it in her hands. Caroline had drifted off seconds later with her arms around her sister's waist.

That had not been the first time they had shared a dream.

But upon waking, they had immediately known that there had been something very different about that dream. It had been important, and their mom's assistant was equally important.

They had fretted almost all of that next day over Andy's fate. Fearing the consequences of the prank they'd played the previous night until Andy had shown up at the train station grinning rather smugly with two bound copies of the unreleased Harry Potter book.

It was likely they had shocked her with their high pitched squeals of delight and relief or maybe it had been the hugs or when they'd both kissed her on the cheeks, offering a heartfelt and softly spoken 'we're sorry'.

Their apology then had been as much about what they had done as what was going to happen. They hadn't seen everything ... but they'd seen enough. Bad things were going to happen. If their mom could manage to not screw it up like she did with her marriages... then maybe...

Cassidy wrapped the pendant in the scarf.

"You're sure this is going to work?" Caroline eyed the bundle skeptically. The first time had been accidental and this would be the first time they had actively tried to dream about someone. Given that first dream which had been really scary, Caroline was just as nervous that it might work, as she was was that might not.

"No." Cassidy shrugged. "But I think we should try." She held her sister's gaze sharing the same fears. They had changed a lot since that night they'd first dreamed about Andy, and pretending for their mom that nothing was different that they were the same was hard.

They hadn't told her about the dream sharing. Some unspoken understanding between the twins kept them secretive.

"I think it's important," Cassidy added. "Someone wants to hurt her and her mom. I just, I just want to know she's safe." Her voice took on a pleading tone. "And that we can get to her if we when need to."

"Okay." Caroline nodded. Sometimes she didn't feel like a kid at all and it sucked.

They tucked the bundle under Cassidy's pillow.

The girls rushed through dinner. Completed their homework, leaving the nanny mystified that she hadn't had to plead and bribe them to get their baths and prepare for bed.

They met up in Cassidy''s room to bunk down for the night. Cassidy held the bundle in her closed fist under the pillow.

"Let's find Andy," she whispered.

They snuggled together as they had the first time they had dreamed about Andy Sachs. Neither spoke again. Their breaths and heartbeats in sync, Cassidy and Caroline drifted to sleep and dreamed of wild beasts that walked and talked like men and women glaring and growling at Andy who was surrounded by them.

She looked different her hair was stringy and oily, her face dirt smudged. Her feet were bare and her clothing old and tattered.

Breaths hitching in sleep, they observed the scene change.

Andy was running, the strange beasts chasing her as she darted down one dark, long twisting tunnel after another, barely staying ahead of her pursuers. The girls twitched, sweat beading their brows, hearts accelerating when Andy's next escape route was cut off by a wall.

With nowhere to go, looking scared and wild, Andy spun around.

"Okay then." The twins' hearts clenched. The brunette's voice sounded so tired and sad. "Let's get this over with, shall we." Her brown eyes began to glow. "Who's first?"

The first of the wild beasts leaped and then another and another. There were too many to fight at one time. Everything was a blur of frenzied movements, claws scratching, teeth sinking into flesh. When Andy eventually crumbled beneath the unmerciful pile of her attackers Caroline whimpered and clutched her arms tight around Cassidy's middle.

But neither girl was willing to give up the dream until they knew the outcome.

Suddenly it was over. The beasts were standing over a bloodied body that lay so still, there seemed no life left in it at all.

"Andy," Cassidy whispered in her sleep. "Andy get up." Her face was wet and the back of her hair become soaked from Caroline's silent weeping. "Come on, Andy. Come on, please."

The body gave a sudden convulsive and violent jerk.

A choked gasp was followed by a spray of blood from parted lips as Andy's head rolled to the side. She coughed violently and with a pained grunt rolled from her back, which was laid open and in shreds onto her stomach, which was in same shape.

"Oww! fuck!

Cassidy laughed at the profanity, the laughter brittle and filled with relief.

The battered body rose slowly, using trembling arms to push off the floor. She stood, swaying, blood soaked clothes in shreds and hanging off her too thin frame. Andy fell against the wall, her shoulder impacted hard enough for her to grunt. She used the wall to keep her on her feet, smearing it with blood.

"Fuck you!" She hissed. Head slowly rising, she stared at her attackers. "You'll have to do better than that." She smiled bitterly then and added, "You know if this keeps up," blood trickled from her split lip, "I might actually start to think you care."

The beasts growled and faked as though they might attack again.

"Yeah." Andy grimaced. "Message received." She used the wall to propel her forward and at first it looked like the hostile predators wouldn't move. The twins were terrified they would attack again but then they parted. "Right." Andy took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall. "Until next time then. Thanks for the lovely dance."

The brunette made her way slowly down one tunnel and then the next. Eventually she fell to her knees, crawling the rest of the way to what appeared to be a small alcove or a cave. She crawled onto a dirtied pallet, curled herself into a tight shivering ball and then closed her eyes.

Caroline sat up first, wiping her soaked face on the sleeve of her pajama shirt.

"She is not fine!" Her eyes glared stonily at the scarf in her sister's she snatched hurled it at the wall. Then pendant slipped free and lay on the floor and painful reminder of the images still chilling the blood. "She shouldn't have let Andy go."

"Bullies." Cassidy snarled. Anger pulsed through her young frame, sharp burning, and her chest hurt in a way she never imagined it could. "We have to tell mom."

"We can't." Caroline squeezed her shoulder. "I don't know why but I don't think Mom is supposed to know. Not yet."

"But we have to tell someone." Cassidy whined. "You saw her, Caroline. I don't think this is the first time she's been attacked. What if they kill her for good? We have to tell."

The girls held at each other's gazes, each face replicating the other's troubled and fearful expression until both pair of green eyes widened with the same thought.

They spoke in unison.

"Roy!"

Knowledge is power and security.

Knowing this truth did nothing to lessen Miranda's displeasure. Years in Yupanqui's service had not made service to him any easier to swallow. What she had come to accept at one time as simply another role she must play in the game of survival now left her festering with bitterness and resentment.

Miranda glanced at the clock on the wall.

She thought of her girls at home very likely sleeping. She'd had to send word to the nanny that it would be necessary for the woman to remain over night. The sun would be rising within an hour and thankfully bringing an end to this 'meeting'. Unfortunately it would afford her no time to stop at home to see her girls before they left for the school for the day.

Her body feeling heavy and drugged with exhaustion Miranda rose from the sleigh bed, driven from its confines by revulsion and the twisting vines of shame. With trembling hands she donned the robe left for her at the foot of bed. She secured the sash around her waist and gingerly made her way on unsteady legs, grimacing with each jarring step, to the small bar in the corner.

She poured herself a much-needed flute of fresh blood.

She leaned over the bar, pressed her left hand down upon it to hold her steady. She drank steadily until the flute was drained and then refilled it.

She settled on the chaise lounge. Taking her leave was not an option, not until she'd been dismissed.

Perhaps it was better this way, she mused, her gaze listing over her surroundings. There'd be no space to allow the steadily building scream inside her head to escape. Leaving from here and heading straight to Runway would hardly afford her the time needed for untouched flesh to grow after she'd clawed the soiled flesh from her bones.

When had this become so difficult? Twenty-seven years and now this simple menial task...

Coffee run for the executives, picking up the dry cleaning; she could list the number of bullshit tasks her assistants were expected to perform on a daily basis, menial.

Menial. Lie back and think of survival. Lie back and think of power. Lie back and think of Runway. Then the Children.

She toyed with the flute running her finger around the circle of the rim.

Preparations for her ascension into the role of Regent were exhausting.

The knowledge being imparted to Miranda was phenomenal and she soaked it up, committed all to memory. But other aspects of these visits, now left her feeling hollow and in despair from the violations she allowed upon her person.

Twenty-seven years...

It became less easy to divorce her mind from the act. As she struggled to reclaim that ability she had yet to puzzle out why now of all times such unrest continued to grow within her. Yupanqui demanded no more of her than usual.

She'd known the day was coming when her status would again be elevated. By god she'd sacrificed and had cut throats to get where she now was; and now to find herself recalcitrant...

Hesitance was a deadly failing, she reminded herself. This does not end because you want it to. It would never end. It would never be over... the most she could hope for was hundred years of some semblance peace once the Lord of Dominion finally took his rest.

She made a cursory study of Yupanqui's borrowed vessel.

A male Adonis muscled, bronzed. Long dark hair. Very pretty face. Pretty body and more endowed than any male should be. Miranda thought it odd, even amusing that after so many centuries of existence the Lord was still a slave to the notion that a woman could not possibly find satisfaction with anything less than an arm's length.

Though she didn't dare bring it up, it was a matter she often wanted to put straight. 

She grimaced at the tenderness between her thighs.

The vessels were rarely the same even if the body type was atypical, Asian, Greek, Egyptian, African, Mesopotamian, American Indian. Maybe she should give him points for variations on a theme, she mused.

And like the other vessels this one most likely possessed all the intelligence of a rock when Yupanqui was not in residence.

She wondered as her  thoughts turned morose, if he had a closet in which he stored his choices, like business suits hanging on a rack. She snorted, sipped from her flute. She needed something to laugh at. She didn't particularly feel like laughing at herself at the moment. 

She glanced up as the vessel began to stir, the head turning towards her, the beautiful face at first vacant became animated, the blankness in the dark brown eyes gave way to pale luminous pools as they found her.

Miranda rose from her seat, quelling her disquiet. She poured another flute of blood and offered it to him. He sat up, animated by Yupanqui's presence. The sheet slipping away from the muscular torso pooling at his lap. Her brow arched at the sign of arousal tenting the silk red sheet.

"Come now." He chuckled. "After all these years surely you cannot doubt how you excite me." He extended one hand for the glass, the other for her. Looking her over hungrily. Miranda handed him the second flute, and set her own on the marble nightstand beside the bed and accepted his hand, allowing him to draw her onto the bed.

He sipped from the flute, his right hand making light work of undoing the sash. He pushed one side off her shoulder and smiled.

"Much better." He titled his head studying her closely. "I wish you would grow out your hair again."

"Umh," She offered a cavalier smile. "I've made a signature of this look."

"So you have," his doting smile turned her stomach. "I will not demand a change of you, as this look does suit you well." His hand slid from her shoulder to cup the weight of her left breast. "I often wonder what look you will choose years from now when this one will need to fade from public eye." His thumb brushed over her nipple. "I mourn that I shall be robbed of seeing it."

"A hundred years as you often say is not so long."

"Indeed it is not, when one sleeps. It is but the blink of an eye." He set his flute aside, parted her robe further. "Have you given thought to your choices—those who will serve as your advisers, council and guards?"

"I've thought of little else." She mused out loud. It wasn't a complete untruth. It was a concern like many she kept compartmentalized, something she'd become adept at over the years, although there was one concern which stubbornly remained at the forefront of her thoughts and refused to be confined in a designated compartment.

Andrea remained a fixture in her thoughts, rising at unexpected moments. And it was all she could do in moments like this to keep the girl banished from her mind.

"Jacqueline seems eager."

"She is always eager." Miranda inclined her head, resisted the urge to squirm away from his touch. "After Paris I would think having Jacqueline Follet guard my interests would be akin to handing a loaded gun to either of my ex-husbands and exposing my back with a target drawn on it to assure accuracy." She reached for her flute and took a sip.

"Ah." Yupanqui nodded, laughed. "But you did remind her of her place."

"Still, the display disloyalty is not something I will forget. Stupidity is rarely rewarded. That is not a trend I wish to change."

"And so I wonder." He eyed her curiously, "Why you keep her around. Mercy for mercy's sake?"

"Oh it's not mercy." Miranda's eyes glinted with danger. "I am simply not yet done with Jacqueline Follet. And there is a lesson others will need to learn."

"Pity for her." Yupanqui grinned. "Enticing for me."

"Well I will leave the matter to you. How you deal with those within your House is reflection of how you will rule. But you'll at least want your choices for guard ready for the coronation. The solstice is not so far away."

Miranda nodded. She'd already begun making plans for Runway, which she would continue to follow through with once she arrived at the office. Having already marked Irv off the latest list of possible collaborators against her, she knew she could bully him into falling in line with those plans.

"You're mind is already on the day ahead I see." His hand slid about her waist and she stiffened when he lifted her easily and positioned her so that she was straddling his lap. "It is one more thing that makes you perfect for Regency. Your mind always on the broader picture even as it toils on the minutest of details."

"I hardly see myself as perfect." She spoke and then gasped as he eased her up and then lowered her onto his erection. Pain was the price of his favor. She was very aware of the agony one might experience when having fallen into his displeasure.

He flipped them over. Miranda grimaced slightly at bearing his weight.

"Perfect in all manners that I find pleasing." He allowed her moment to become re-accustomed to his length and girth. "We spoke of yield not too long ago." His deep thrust earned a grunt of discomfort, "When next we meet," he withdrew and thrust deep inside her again. Miranda drew in a sharp. "I would very much like to discuss your plans for the young journalist."

Miranda met his gaze without wavering. Though her heart gave a powerful thud at the unexpected mention of the fledgling.

"Of course," She answered steadily and then gave herself over to his rather clinical form of copulation. He nuzzled the side of her neck.

Miranda squeezed her eyes tight as she moved beneath him. She tried to not to think of Andrea. But his seemingly casual mention of her in this intimate setting brought to mind the way the young woman's body had felt when Andrea had pinned her to the wall of the guest room.

Her breath warm in the hollow of Miranda's throat. The girl's full lips, blood red had been so close to her own. The wild scent of rage and arousal had blossomed from her skin like a fresh burst of honeysuckle carried on the wind.

Miranda shuddered and dug her nails into the vessel's back.

***

She was relieved when the limousine pulled up along side her town car.

Miranda settled into the familiar comfort of her own back seat.

"The girls."

"Send their love."

"Miranda nodded, and then wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"Is that butcher's blend I smell."

"I apologize, Ms. Priestly. I had an unfortunate incident. I ..."

"Yes well," Miranda cut him off. "I am rather disapp..." The words broke on her tongue as she caught his eyes in the rear view mirror before he could avert his gaze and Miranda instinctively knew.

Roy was lying. But if that vile substance hadn't been for him then who...? Her stomach clenched.

"Have a donor on standby in the event of further unforeseen incidents ... and do something about that offensive smell." She turned her attention out the window. 

Co-dependencies and placebos

"Andy." Estell lifted the girl's head onto her lap, "Come along dear heart." Her heart ached in sympathy at the soft whimper. "Yes, dear it hurts I know. But time as they say..."

"Here." Otis handed the elderly woman a two-liter vessel. "One of Wonder Woman's friends paid a visit."

"Good thing." Estell grimaced. She removed the lid, and waved the cup under the girl's nose and then pressed it to her lips. Inspite of the girl's unconscious state instinct took over. Her lips parted and she drank. "Maybe she's wrong for this."

"You know she's not." Otis knelt down beside them on one knee. He brushed the stringy mane from Andy's face. With a sad smile he planted a tender kiss on her forehead. "Children crawl before they walk."

He withdrew a switchblade from his back pocket and used it to cut away the rags barely covering her. Otis dragged the bucket of water over and reached in for the rag and squeezed the excess moisture from it.

"This smells like shit." Estell sniffed the container and blanched with disgust.

"Well she won't drink the human stuff, and we can't force it on her."

"She needs to get over that nonsense or she's gonna gonna keep getting her ass handed to her on a rusty platter."

Otis gently dabbed the cloth to the re-knitting skin as Estell placed the next cup to the girl's lips. "We'll need to get about five liters in her for this butcher's crap to do her any good after the beating she took this time." her voice was tainted with disapproval.

"We can't force anything on her Estell. She ain't ready yet."

"She needs real blood, Otis." Estell met his gaze squarely. "Or one day she ain't gonna get back up."

"It won't come to that. She got chosen for a reason Estell."

"It's coming Otis. I can feel it. The others too blind to see it. And Andy? She gonna have to learn to save herself before she can save the rest of us..."

Otis nodded, continued to bathe their charge as tenderly as one might a child. "Maybe I know some body who can help?"

"Who?"

Otis glanced away. "Well uhm you won't like it ... but she's not particularly stingy with her blood."

"No." Estell glared. "That harlot...?"

"It is not for us to judge."

"But Otis, she's so ..."

Otis grinned.

"Exactly. And that's what our Andy needs right now."

Miranda tossed her coat and bag on the desk of her newest second assistant.

She breezed past the young woman, sparing a brief glance at her while rattling off instructions and orders to Emily.

"... and then contact my lawyer, tell him to remind my ex-husband's lawyer, that there is in fact a prenuptial agreement, and as for my answer in regards to Stephen's demands. He'll rot in hell first."

"Of course." To her credit Emily's eyes only slightly widened at the missive. Miranda turned back to find the faintest tinge of amusement in her second assistant's gaze before the woman schooled her expression into one that was neutral.

"Emily," Miranda spoke to her second assistance. "Get Demarchelier."

She had barely sat down, taking a sip of her scalding hot Starbuck's before the new girl promptly called. "Miranda. I have Patrick."

The conversation with Patrick was brief and to the point. Hours early, no meetings to attend and though there were a number of pressing matters she could take the opportunity to deal with Miranda found her attention drifting.

Yupanqui had expressed interest in the twins again.

Trepidation held an unshakable grip on her heart. Again she had maintained that the girls were too young for exposure to court life.

Again he'd seemed appeased by the answer. But that he kept broaching the subject had her on alert.

She wanted her girls to have as normal a life within reason as possible. There were things they needed to learn, and things she'd had to regrettably teach them; but she did not want her life for them.

Miranda swiveled her chair from the desk to face her picture window. She was still sore. She supposed she should be grateful that it was not as it had been that first night she'd been brought before him when she'd been human. And there had been no vessel.

And yet still after a scalding shower she did not feel clean enough. Even with a vessel she couldn't forget the beast that animated the body touching her.

Still ...

Appeasing him in this fashion left her otherwise free to live her life without total dictation, and kept her well within his favor for now at least. And it was Yupanqui's favor she would rely upon when it came time to discussing Andrea's future; and keeping her children safe.

It amused him more often than not pandering to her quixotic whims. But for how long?

She was not unaware of her own failings, which had landed her exactly where she was. Fear had kept her at Yupanqui's side but not fear alone. Ambition. Even now despite her misgiving, she could not deny the thought of such power was heady, the protection it would afford her girls, alluring. The knowledge that those who still looked down upon her and saw her profession as silly and frivolous being under her thumb was satisfying.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Andrea's image ghosted before her. She could not help but wonder what Andrea would think if she knew the intricacy and complexity of Miranda's role as the Lord's right hand and his role in her life. Would she recognize Miranda as a lesser creature entertaining the vices of her creator, helpless to do aught but play puppet for the puppeteer.

Her eyes sprang open, and quelled her uneasiness at recognizing that it was this very role that she had offered to Andrea. Miranda the puppeteer and Andrea her puppet.

She wanted Andrea. Beyond that, beyond her desire she could see nothing else but the girl with her always.

Odd that in almost all else she had definitive plans in place. Christian and even Jacqueline who had remained in the states were being observed. Her resolution for Runway once she stepped into the role of Regent was already in the early stages of cementing ... and yet when it came to Andrea, Miranda found herself floundering.

Miranda had to rely on the girl's ability to adapt and adjust to challenges to ensure her own survival. "She is not weak," Miranda whispered.

"Who's not weak?"

"Nigel," Miranda kept her back to him. For a second time, Nigel had managed to catch her off guard. "Have you become enchanted by the game Russian Roulette? Or has someone failed to inform me that fatuity is the new black?" She turned her chair around and pinned him with a glare raking her gaze over his attire as she would a fashion newbie. "In which case I must say, it does not suit you."

He stared, frozen.

"Well?" she prompted impatiently. "I assume you must be here for some reason other than your remarkable impression of statue."

"I thought..."  he paused flustered and Miranda felt a of guilt wedging its way into her psyche. "...You might like to get the run-through out of the way."

"As I've not summoned you and made the request ... then it's a reasonable guess that I would not."

"Care to explain..."

"Nigel. That's all."

"Yes. Of course it is." He stalked out of the office sulking. Miranda breathed in deeply and let the breath out slowly.

"Emily," she called, "contact..."

Miranda frowned when her cellphone rang.

Staring at the caller ID she answered quickly. "This had better be good."

"We have a problem. Someone managed to slip out of the city under our radar." The Brazilian accident intoned gravely.

Miranda's heart gave a painful pinch. "Has Andrea..." left? she couldn't fathom it, let alone complete the thought.

"No. No." Serena hastened, her voice only slightly reassuring. "Fire up your laptop."

"Just tell me ..."

"It's better if you see for yourself."

Rolling her eyes but none the less curious and concerned, Miranda did as requested and typed in the web address Serena provided..

"Why on earth am I reading the Cincinnati Enquirer?"

"Miranda scroll down the page about halfway..."

Miranda scrolled skimming the by-lines and froze as her eyes came across the problem Serena indicated. She paled, eyes staring at the screen. Nausea caused her stomach to quiver as she read over the brief article.

She picked out the the muggings but what really stood out in her mind, the causes of death throats cut ...

Miranda could imagine what those wounds would look like; it was not an uncommon trick used among fledglings that lacked the elements in their saliva to seal the wounds of their bite marks. A large portion of flesh would have been removed, cut away deeply to the bone to hide evidence of the method of exsanguination.

Her eyes skimmed the last line.

... surviving daughter Andrea Sachs, news reporter for the New York Mirror is out of the country on assignment and has not yet been notified.

"They're trying to drawing her out." Miranda stated calmly into the phone.

"Do you think she'll  take the bait?"

Miranda immediately recalled the strong offensive odor of butcher's blend in the Town car.    

"No." Miranda closed down the page. "She won't." She took a deep breath. "I won't allow it." Miranda removed her glasses and lay them aside. "Get a message to your friends. If news of this reaches Andrea and she is harmed for it. Every single one of them will be systematically hunted down and wiped off the face of this planet."

Miranda, she has a right ..."

"Do it."

"Miranda."

"I have a magazine to run. And you have a job to do. See to it that it gets done. That's all."

Miranda hung up, gripped the edge of her glass desktop. Breathing harshly. Head lowered, she closed her eyes taking several deep breaths.

"Emily. Run-through ten minutes."

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut again, hearing snatches of Emily Charlton's conversation.

"...I don't know why she wants to do it now," Emily quailed. "... just get down here quick and for the sake of all our lives let everything be perfect."

Miranda glanced up just as Jocelyn and the others entered her office with the rack of selections for the run through.

The expression on her face set off a five-alarm warning that they might not live to see the end of the day. As her eyes raked over the selection they realized that may not live to see the next five minutes.

Thoughts of Miranda Girl lifted his spirits.

The left corner of his mouth elevated in a smirk that hardened the line of his lips.

Christian Thompson vigorously rubbed the towel through the damp mop of blond ringlets. He tossed the used cloth aside, cupped his chin with his left hand and caressed his thumb and fingers over the flesh, testing the smoothness of his freshly shaved face.

Christian was drawn to those who had been hand-picked by the reigning queen of the fashion elite.

Jacqueline, herself a Miranda Priestly protégé had delighted in pointing out those anointed by the celebrated fashionista's golden touch. Earmarking how this one or that one had come from nothing, or had been practically homeless until Miranda had chanced upon them, saw something worthy of note.

Christian who'd followed on Jacqueline's arms had mistakenly believed that one day he would be next until Jacqueline had shared her own plans. He'd blindly followed owing his devotion to the woman who'd changed his life. Made him more than he was. It had never been enough, even before their embarrassing defeat in Paris.

He'd gained nothing. And he'd lost nothing. Except the hope that one day he too would feel the anointing of the golden touch.

There was something about those whom Miranda had touched, an arrogant bearing, a presence of superiority as though they'd been manor born and those who flocked around those newly polished gems dared not say different. Though his own talents and notoriety had brought him fame, in the presence of these people he felt like the country bumpkin cousin come for a visit with his big city kin.

Be they Brethren or human servant it didn't seem to matter and though Christian had been born into the house of the dragon he fit it no better than an unwanted stepchild.

He blamed Jacqueline who spent so much time trying to be a replica of Miranda Priestly and falling short that she had no presence of her own.

James Holt the now well known designer guided by the hand of Miranda Priestly was a close acquaintance, of Christian's, and like so many of the nouveau riche knew how to throw a party.

Christian remembered in detail meeting Andy Sachs at such a party.

With the innocence of Little Red Riding Hood, so obviously uncomfortable in garments of sophisticated couture, Cinderella had stepped through the door to mingle among the jaded wolves.

Christian had smelled easy prey.

Then she'd spoken Miranda's name and he'd known in an instant she was one meant for that golden touch.

He'd given chase and had snared her if for only a brief moment but she slipped through his fingers in Paris.

Christian wanted her back. It had had nothing to do with like, but had everything to do with Miranda Priestly.

When Christian had first chatted up the intriguing young thing, wide-eyed and innocent, she blushed so prettily.

His intrigue had been pushed aside in favor of the little games he loved to play with similar girls, full of ambition and ripe for perfect lines, a bit of flattery: a promise to read their talented words...

It had been that first kiss on her cheek, so close to those full lips and wide mouth, chaste but deliberate in communicated his intentions. And it had been impossible to mistake the scent curled around the girl, blending with her innocence, fire and power.

Andy Sachs had been marked. Not a claim. But a mark of intention, of protection. Among the Brethren it carried the weight of an engagement ring. The mark was subtle and like an artfully applied perfume could not be scented at a distance only up close for vampires like him who preyed on the unwary. A broadcast meant to warn when a particular human was not prey.

And the game became less about the hunt and more about taking something else from the Snow Queen. Her fame. Her job. Her pretty little Miranda Girl.

Well they hadn't taken the fame. The job. But that pretty little Miranda Girl was as good as his. And he had a feeling that in spite of her seemingly ambivalence, her performance of indifference, Miranda would pay to have her back.

The towel fell from around his waist and was replaced by a thick black robe.

Jacqueline had had her qualms over this maneuver. Christian hadn't. The moment his boy had made the request any doubts he'd had over Nate's devotion to him had fled. Jacqueline was a doll, but she caved much too easily. She'd become a little too cautious after that Paris fiasco. Christian hadn't. Paris had made him bolder, hungrier.

Moments such as now with what he wanted so close in his grasp, he wondered if he'd not been meant to be of Miranda's bloodline.

He wandered into the kitchen, retrieved a decanter of Cognac from the cabinet and poured a glass.

Christian placed the stopper into the open mouth of Cognac bottle.

A grin threatened to split his ruggedly lined face when keys jangled outside his front door. He placed the decanter into the cabinet, retrieved another glass and filled it from a second bottle. Making his way into the living room from the kitchen, both glasses in hand, he greeted his childe without bothering to close the robe.

Dressed in Christian's hand-me-downs, Nate walked through the front door of the loft followed by three hulkish vampires.

"Welcome home." Christian smiled as Nate set his suitcase down just inside the door.

"Any news on the wonder woman chick?" Nate asked. He moved across the room and Christian was charmed by the handsomely boyish brutishness, the vampire had not lost that charm upon his turning. Christian often found it hard to believe that underneath the Neanderthal like grace had once lurked the heart of a chef.

"Blonde tall, drove an expensive car." Christian shrugged, "Nothing more." Good news had lessen the sting of loss, of Doug and Lily. His interest in wonder woman had more to do with her having been the last person seen with the woman fitting Andy's description than her destruction of Nate's friends.

Disappointment shadowed the younger man's face. Christian handed him the glass of blood, which Nate quickly drained before setting the glass aside. He reached inside his jacket and from the inner pocket removed part of newspaper.

"Well," Nate's young face lit up with a boyish smile, disappointment momentarily forgotten. "I made the news."

He handed Christian the Cincinnati Post. Christian took the paper and quickly read over the circled article, the smile on his face so big it threatened to make his eyes disappear.

"Good work," Christian whispered hoarsely, "Maybe we should frame it." He was as excited by the details and lack of as he was of Nate's graphic descriptions over the phone the night before of the demise of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Sachs.

Nate grinned boyishly eager to please. "Maybe we should."

"You have been a very,"Christian downed his Cognac in a smooth swallow and then continued, "very good boy, Nathaniel." Christian drew him in for a heated kiss. "And daddy's very pleased."

Christian hard, erect tossed the paper to the floor.

"Get out." He snarled at the other vampires. Jacqueline's vampire muscle. He didn't wait for them to hastily vacate the loft before he shoved a very willing Nate to his knees. His arousal soared as imagined the look on Andy Sachs' face when she found out. Christian groaned knowing without question that she would come looking for him and Nate... and then she wouldn't be leaving ever ...

Nate, slid his hands along the cool hard length and buried his face in blond pubic hairs, imagining he could still smell the lingering scents of Doug and Lily on Christian. Sometimes ... sometimes he thought he smelled Andy too.

Christian sighed, softly gently caressing the back of Nate's head.

Nate closed his eyes, because he knows his sire was pleased.

That's what he wanted most now... to please Christian. He had felt gutted and abandoned when Lily and Doug had been destroyed. And he hated being alone. Now Doug and Lily were gone, there was only him and Christian, whose blood flowed through Nate's veins.

And Nate still couldn't feel Andy at all ...

In Ohio he'd grown resentful. He'd finally understood that Andy had stopped being his the moment she been hired to work at Runway. Even when she'd come back she still hadn't been his. And now... now when his blood, Doug's and Lily's should have tethered her to their sides, she still remained... not his.

He'd felt her slipping away further and further, after the turning... She'd become still and quiet during sex... and he'd fucked her hard punished her every single time for not feeling him... because her blood did not call out to his blood the blood which had given her new life.

He opened his mouth kissed along Christian's shaft teasing the mushroomed head with his tongue...

His mind continued to drift.

He hated Andy. He hated that Christian still wanted her even after she'd run off, left Lily and Doug to die. She very well might have aided in their destruction. You don't kill the one who made you... It was the rule of blood. Nate did hope they'd find her and keep her. Because he wanted show her the consequences of breaking the rule of blood ... wanted to punish her over and over again.

He groaned and swallowed Christian's cock, the sides of his mouth puffing and concaving as he sucked and Christian thrust his hips powerfully... calling him good boy ... his sweet boy ... his good boy ...

Nate would have laughed had there not been a cocked ramming its way down his throat, in fact because there was there was a cock ramming its way down his throat. He found it kind of funny because it was Doug who'd been gay and Lily who'd once shyly admitted under the influence of 2 bottles of Boones Farm that she loved sucking cock as much as Doug had while Nate had fancied himself in no way dickly.

Those confessions had come back in the days of the Four Musketeers.

Before his eyes had been opened into a new world... Before Doug and Lily had become everything to him.

He groaned, sucked harder, pawing Christian's ass pulling him closer forcing him further down his throat ... Nate undid the buckle of his own pants ...

They would have made room for Andy ... they would have loved her ... protected her ... and now--

Nate freed his own straining erection pumping his hand up and down vigorously as Christian jack-hammered his mouth. His face was buried in skin and flesh, curly pubes tickling his nose.

Now he just wanted to hurt her ... and hurt her  and hurt her ... and he wanted to be the one to tell her that he'd gutted her parents while draining them ... that he'd done her mom first while her father watched ... he showed them his true face and made sure they knew in detail how he'd made Andy a monster just like him. He'd describe to her how he'd made them beg. Supply the details of how he'd punished them for not knowing where she was and how he'd punished them for giving birth to her ... because if they hadn't then his life would have been different ... they would have never met ...

If they had never met Nate wouldn't be deep-throating the monster that had killed him... and fucking his own hand while daydreaming about the monstrous things he'd done to Andy's parents and all the little monstrous thing's he'd do to her whenever Daddy Christian wasn't looking..

Later, sprawled on the bed Nate groaned languidly and gave a grunt of mild discomfort when Christian slipped from his ass. The sun was rising and he was sleepy and drowsy and his un-beating heart twinged because Doug and Lily would not be there to lie curled around him.

Christian was sprawled atop him, chest pressed against Nate's back, his cock buried deep in Nate's ass. The former chef relaxed, allowing his body to respond to Christian's manipulation as his mind splintered off in more pressing directions.

No one knew anything about Wonder Woman.

Nate thought it was bullshit. Someone knew. There was always someone who knew.

The empty apartment, her things gone. She didn't do it herself.

Nate growled. Rough hands flipped him over onto his back. His legs were spread, his cock gave a jerk as his balls were tongued. Weariness invaded his limbs, his mind an accumulation of morning fog, drifting orbiting around one thought.

Andy.

Andy was smart, yeah, but disappearing like this... cleaning out her things like she'd never been there ... that wasn't her. It wasn't how she'd thought. She'd have gone back lightly packed but she'd have left clues. And would have likely been caught in the process. Because Andy had never been good at deception. She was all about the head on approach.

Which is why it didn't surprise him that she'd gone to see Lily and Doug. And if I'd been there things would have gone down differently. He flinched inwardly assuming his role in the demise of his friends.  If he hadn't been disobedient, if he'd just been a good boy, Lily and Doug wouldn't have been on there own. He would have protected them.

He shuddered, let out a deep groan as a hungry mouth fastened around his cock.

She wouldn't have had time meet someone influential enough to help her like this.

Nate had thought he knew everyone Andy did. Yet somehow, he'd missed something. Because clearly there'd been someone Andy had kept to herself. His lips curled upward in a sneer. Some other guy. Someone else taking in by the big bright eyes and beguiling smile.

He knew she wasn't dead. Gut instinct. People like Andy have more lives than a cat.

His face darkened.

Someone was helping her. If it wasn't someone he knew, then it had to be someone ...

"Ahh! Shit!" He unloaded in Christian's mouth, groaning as the elder vamp swallowed convulsively around his softening tool.

Christian moved up to lie beside him pulling up the expensive sheets to cover them both. Nate felt drunk with the approaching slumber, his limbs now too heavy to move. His eyelids struggling to stay open.

"What's in that head of yours."

"We may have overlooked something." Nate's words were slurred. "Andy. Runway. Someone. Helpi--"

Otis stepped into the hovel.

"She's still out." Estell glanced up from where she sat guard in the corner of Andy's hovel and immediately tensed.

"Otis?" she questioned, heart skipping beats at the sight of him pale his deeply line face etched with worry.

"There's a message from Wonder Woman and a newspaper clipping."

"Let's see." Estell rose with far more grace than a woman of her age should. Otis handed her the items. She read the note, brows furrowing with confusion until she read the accompanying newspaper clip. "Oh baby girl," her eyes immediately teared as they studied the innocent young woman who had no idea that destruction had touched her life again.

Her hands shook badly. The paper fluttered to the floor.

"It begins." Otis whispered.

Estell picked up the paper. "I'll throw it away."

"No," he whispered. "No just hide it... hide it. But destroy that note." He held Estell's gaze. "Go on—I'll keep watch."

"Something like this won't stay hidden for long." Estell glanced at Andy again. "It's not right."

"Maybe it ain't. But the girl's not ready and sure enough she'll fly out of here all rage and vengeance. She handled herself against her friends ... but this is different. She won't be going after a pair of weak vampires." he nodded, "And it ain't just about Andy."

"The good of the many versus the good of the one."

"Every good leader knows and understands this."

"We're not leaders anymore Otis." Estell replied bitterly.

"No. But we'll see that she lives long enough to become one."