Bait and hook...

"Are you crazy!?"

Otis smiled at the question and the expression of disbelief accompanying it. One might've thought he'd requested the young woman remove an organ.

"A little," he answered both amused and saddened by the woman's indignant and furious expression. The young were so easily put out when deeming a task beneath them.

"Only a little." Estell parroted standing at his side.

Estell and Otis both offered up hopeful and pleading smiles. They hadn't wasted time in attempting to enlist the young woman's aid. With news of the death of Andy's parent's just a day behind them, little time could be spared.

They stood inside the entrance of her hovel. Larger than most and she'd fought hard for it. A pack rat but an orderly one, her things were neatly organized some of it useless... metal pieces of junk that might have belonged to passing cars ... door knobs, loops of keys that unlocked nothing that someone living underground would have access to. And there were books, lots of books ... she'd earned enough respect and privilege few would be bold enough to rifle through her things.

"Andy needs someone like you." Otis spoke. "She can benefit from having someone like you on her side." He studied the ripple of muscle along the arms and legs as the young woman slipped into her pants and then her shirt. Immodest, slender, tall sinewy, he often wondered if at one time she'd played sports. She gathered up small weapons, some conventional, others homemade and hid them on her person. "She's alone, afraid ..."

"Yeah well that's most of the people down here." The young woman ran her fingers though her long braids in agitation. "Sorry Otis." An unapologetic smile belied the words. "But I'm not interested."

Otis and Estell shared a glance, reliving a time long gone now when the young respected the elders and performed a task as bid without question.

"The old ways are lost to us old friend." Otis could feel the deep sigh behind Estell's thoughts.

"That which is lost can be found again." Otis returned gently.

Estell offered him a weary smile, nodded and then stepped further into the hovel towards the proud young woman, observing with caution the younger woman tense. Signs such as these among the Others at times broke Estell's heart; they were not meant to be solitary creatures.

"Andy's such a sweet girl. And she deserves a chance... if you would just..."

"No." The young woman shook her head. "It ain't gonna be like that." Soft sable eyes flashed with irritation. The young woman looked from Estell to Otis and shook her head again. "Ya'll bring some timid little powder puff down here and then expect everybody to just get with the program and like it. Cause what? Just cause you say she's nice. Well it don't even work like that, Otis. We're struggling down here as it is—everybody's divided on everything and this girl..." Her lips thinned into a bitter line, "...she's just gonna mess up everything that's already messed up. She ain't one of us. Vamp-tramp throw aways like her come a dime by the dozen and they're only good for thing, and you know it." She slipped into her black combat boots and laced up the frayed strings. "What you gonna do, Otis, find em all and save them too?"

"She's important."

"Oh yeah?"A disbelieving tone met Estell's hasty outburst. "I've heard them talking about her. Your little sheep. I hear she came down here in some pricey rags. So what happened? Some rich dude piss off the wrong fangs and his little girl got munched on to teach him a lesson?"

Otis took a moment to study the walls of the young one's hovel as he always did during rare visits: They were covered collages of cut outs, fashion magazines, celebrities playing dressed up and standing on a red carpet... black and whites of dramatic poses, articles on politics and inventions.

So much more to this one then she lets on.

No one was allowed in the young woman's hovel except Estell and Otis and even their entry was granted with resentment.

"She's a news reporter," Estell confided.

The green eyes widened with surprise. Uncertainty flickered in them and then they hardened again.

"Right." The young woman laughed bitterly. "Which means she was probably nosing around and got in the wrong business, right?" She shook her head, clenched her jaw. "I don't get it, Otis. She's a frickin' fang face. It ain't none of our business who among their own they decide to exterminate... won't none of them assholes there for us when..."

"Girl!" Otis raised his voice. "Don't speak to me as if you remember events you were neither present nor alive to witness or experience."

The young woman swallowed and looked away but refused to give an inch.

"Yeah well if she's so important, let the folks she's important to take care of Miss America Vampire Princess." The woman was pacing now, her energy disjointed, restless.

Otis couldn't remember the last time she stood still. Always moving. Always doing and getting nowhere fast. Yet the others looked up to her. She was strong. Proud. The strongest of her kind to come along in a long time. And still for all her strength... she was just another hungry mouth. Another homeless wanderer.

"I ain't no babysitter." She turned around and shrugged, tugging her coat tightly around her. "Now, I gotta jet. I got people who wanna see me." She smiled suggestively, "And things that wanna do me, if you get my drift."

Otis and Estell shared a look and then watched the young woman exit the hovel.

"Raja." Otis called after the young woman. "Such an alliance," Otis spoke gently. "Would prove beneficial to you as well." Raja paused just outside the hovel. "Why serve many masters? When one would cover a multitude of needs?"

"She don't sound like much of a master." The woman chuckled. "But I hear she's pretty."

"She is..." Otis confessed, "quite attractive."

"And... rich?"

"She is a force which cannot be moved." Otis sighed. "She is a power unto herself."

"Then why is she stuck down here?" Raja challenged.

"Because even the greatest of us can easily become lost." He stared at the tense line of her back. "And must find themselves again."

"Yeah." Her voice lacked its earlier edge. "Whatever." She tossed a wave over her shoulder and disappeared down the tunnels.

"We beg and plead and barter now," Estell's sigh was like the hollow moan of wind winding down a tunnel, "when once there were none who would falter to obey our command."

Our time is long gone, Stel. We were not wise with our responsibility. The gauntlet must pass to another.

"What do you think?" Estell asked softly. "Will she help?"

"She will." Otis nodded, expression thoughtful and a little sorrowful. "She won't be able to not do it." He followed Estell from the hovel. "In the mean time," he sighed the words, "Someone's gonna have to teach our girl what she is, before she becomes a danger to herself and everyone around her."

Estell's smile was bitter. "If she don't start drinking the right kind of blood, them packs are gonna finish her off and we won't have to worry about it."

Otis's laugh was mirthless. "Stel, if our Andy don't start drinkin' the right kind of blood soon, she'll finish a lot more of us off before the packs ever get a chance to take her down for good."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's not as strong as needs be," Otis lead the woman down tunnel. "But she's also not weak, Stel—that girl's got dragon's blood in her veins," His eyes narrowed, "and so much more. She's not weak. She's simply been holding back."

***

"It's been two days." Nate growled.

Christian lips quirked upward in a patient grin, enjoying the sight of his childe when angered.

"Why hasn't she done anything yet?" Nate muttered under his breath. "She should have done something by now."

"Tut. Tut. Patience my boy. It's only Monday." Christian scolded though he was just as disappointed as his Childe. He'd have thought she'd be storming through the city on a rampage looking for himself and Nate. He had no idea why the news of Andy Sachs's parents hadn't driven the woman from hiding. Except the possibility he found himself unwilling to believe. That she had succumbed to the weakness and had died.

Christian watched the entrance of the building from across the street and quickly turned away when the door swung open. He glanced up at Nate and made himself busy straightening his Childe's tie.

"Who's that?" Nate eyed the redhead climbing into the expensive looking town car. A book in hand.

"Emily." Christian supplied. "Miranda's first assistant."

Nate's eyes narrowed. He remembered the name. "Yeah, Andy talked about her a lot. Said the Emily girl was a British snot." Nate shrugged. "But Andy seemed to like her."

"She may have answers."

Nate frowned. "According to Andy, Emily didn't like her much."

Christian shook his head, his smile patient.

"Nate, my boy. It's been my experience. It's not easy to like or care about someone who hates your gut." He smirked. "Well unless you're a saint." He chuckled and gently chucked Nate under the chin. "And we both know," he murmured suggestively, "that Andy was hardly a saint."

Nate made an initial humph sound at that assessment. "So what do we do?"

"Well, right now," Christian brushed non existent lint from Nate's suit jacket, "Miss Charlton is on her way to pick up Miranda's dry cleaning and then she will deliver it and the Book to Miranda's town house," he supplied. "She will do this until Miranda decides the newest Andy replacement is worthy. What we want to know is what Miss Charlton does after her duties for Miranda are completed. Follow Emily, find out what she does from there. Where she goes. Who she sees. What she knows."

He reached down between them, groping between the younger vampire's thighs and cupped Nate in his hand. The younger man hissed, his hips instinctively pressing toward the touch, ignoring the passers-by on the street, looking at them with revulsion.

"Such a good boy." Christian grinned, the maneuver providing them needed cover, people would be much too interested in pretending not to be fascinated by what they were doing than actually looking at their faces.

"I'd like nothing more than to fuck you right here. Claim you where everyone can see." Nate groaned and thrust against his hand. "Such a good boy." Christian murmured in Nate's ear.

"Do what you feel is necessary." Christian murmured. "Find out what she knows. Use her. Persuade her to our cause."

Christian used his free hand to yank Nate toward him, plastering their mouths together in a rough kiss that would have robbed of breath had Nate needed to breathe. He broke the kiss and moved his hand from the bulge in Nate's pants. His grin promising many things for later.

"Don't kill her and don't try to turn her."

***

"I hate this shit hole!"

Andy flinched the moment the comment escaped her lips.

"No offense." She ducked her head feeling guilty over the ungracious words. But her life seemed so far away. She was going crazy down here. Sundays were for lazing around her apartment, a long walk in the park, editing work to be handed in on Monday, or for working in the office...

Estell chuckled.

"None taken." She studied the young woman keenly and then laughed. "I suppose it is a shit hole of sorts."

Estell looked her patient over and smiled compassionately at the misery etched on the dark features.

"Andy, try not take it personal."

"Take what personal?" Andy asked bitterness roughing her voice. "The fact that every chance they get every pack for miles around tries to shove my heart down my throat." Her right hand balled into a fists. "What's there to take personal?"

She hugged her left arm around her bandaged waist. She found it only mildly amusing that the gaping holes in her stomach and back, the more fatal of wounds had already healed after three days while bones were taking their own sweet time.

"We didn't..." Estell looked apologetic. "We tend to be very territorial down here. But Otis and I honestly didn't think it would be a big deal. We figure most would remember you from before." Estell sighed. "Not all of them hate you."

"Really?" Andy glared at her with incredulity.

"Though they're too afraid to admit it." Estell sighed. "It wasn't always like this, Andy." Estell's smile waned. "The Others were a proud people of every species you could imagine. Until the wars, and with wars came dissension and distrust. Numbers dwindled on every side until those left had little choice but to band together... in different cities... hiding underground or in forests, caves. We've lost too much. We were a people great in number and the packs and dens were aligned under one King."

Surprised, Andy broke from her pacing and eased her back against the wall. She gingerly lowered herself until she was seated on the floor, a pained expression underlying the tenderness of mending ribs.

"In power, we were not unlike the Vampires. Like them we had our courts."

"What started the wars?" Andy asked softly, intrigued now. Tucking away the question about vampires for later.

"Rumors were spread, whispers of betrayals were spoken in the ears of pack leaders that this pack or another intended to betray."

"And the rumors?"

"Who knows." Estell smiled bitterly. "Some say Vampires." Andy blanched. "No one knows for certain. But what we do know, is that when the King called on allies for help. Not one Vampire offered assistance."

"And I'm paying for that?" Andy asked bitterly.

Estell release a huff of laugh.

"Girl, most of those alive now know nothing and remember nothing of the war. What they do know is how they are now treated by the Blood. Lower than animals. Lesser beings... cast offs unfit for the sight of the Kindred."

"I'm sorry." Andy sighed. "But why doesn't someone change it. There are so many of you here?"

"We've tried, Andy." Estell held her gaze steadily. "Don't you think for a moment that those here are truly here because they want to be. But fear is a powerful divider. Freedom is here underground where as... above... the moment we appear unified there are those who'd like nothing more than dwindle our number again. People in power are greedy and rarely share that power."

"The Vampires have a King?" Andy asked suddenly.

"One King though he sleeps through the ages, has slept now for centuries. Many Lords who are like kings." Estell provided. "Scattered about the countries, holding courts. Each Lord has within his or her Hold many Houses lead by Avatars and each avatar has beneath him or her servants, vassals and minions that make up the stronghold of each House. The more power money and influence a servant or vassal possesses the stronger the house of the Avatar."

Estell folded her hands across her lap.

"Each Vampire Lord has two favored Avatars... one whom he calls the right hand and the other his left. They sit on the left and right advise when he wishes it. Each half of a millennium the Vampire Lord must sleep a hundred years sometimes two hundred years unless he or she can find a vessel strong enough to contain his essence indefinitely."

Andy grimaced at this.

"A vessel?"

"Yes. A host. Vampire Lords are Ancients, though they are strong their bodies also suffer of self-inflicted weaknesses, slowly decaying. Whithering. The long sleep slows the process. And transference of their essence does so as well. But few vessels are strong enough to withstand hosting an Ancient's essence for prolonged periods."

"Sounds gruesome."

"It can be." Estell shuddered. "For the host."

Andy shuddered.

"So one Avatar, the right or the left hand of the Lord is chosen as Regent when the Vampire Lord prepares for the long sleep. And rules in his or her stead."

"Wow." Andy paled, thinking of Miranda and the fashionista's last words to her. "We have one of those courts here, don't we?"

"Yes. We do." Estell glanced at Andy in warning. "Few among them can be trusted, Andy. They consider themselves royalty. Above man, beast and all Others. Some consider themselves above gods. They are ruthless. Very few in power know the meaning of the word mercy. And they are very particular of whom they embrace into their number."

It was easy for Andy to imagine Miranda among them. Very Likely an Avatar. She couldn't envision Miranda as anyone's servant or vassal. Andy leaned back against the wall. "Guess they wouldn't be all that crazy about me, either huh?"

Estell looked away.

"I get it." Andy sighed wondering now if there had been another reason Estell and Otis had brought her underground. "I suppose Christian isn't the only one I have to worry about."

"Fate can be both a gentle handmaiden, Andy, as well a ruthless mistress. She steers, guides and often shoves us towards our destiny. But ultimately we are left to decide the final outcome."

Andy looked away disgusted. "Well I didn't choose this."

"This isn't the outcome, baby girl." Estell spoke gently. "You're at but the first leg of the journey." Estell pulled a container from a small cooler. "Drink up."

Andy grimaced. "Where'd you get the blood?"

"From a butcher." Estell shuddered. "It'll help some but it's not what you need. The blood of the dead leaves much to be desired."

"It's not human is it?" Andy stared at the vessel with horror.

"No. Animal. Pig, chicken, cow." Estell made a gamely face. "It's why they call it Butcher's blend." Estell handed it over. "The stuff should be illegalized." Estell sighed seemed to debate what she was about to say and then came to a decision. "It was a friend of Wonder Woman's, that had it sent down. Arrangements have been made for you, deliveries."

Andy nodded, musing quietly about the mysterious woman who'd helped her Halloween night, and who was apparently still helping her. The question was why.

"You'll have to pay out of pocket." Estell tapped her fingers on Andy's knee and then warned, "It's only a temporary fix."

"Seems to be doing the job." Andy shrugged.

"Don't mistake want for need, Andy. And what you need, you can't get from that container." Estell glanced at her meaningfully. "Better blood would see you heal quicker."

Andy sucked in a sharp breath, an image of Miranda springing to mind. The older vampire had fed Andy her blood, kept Andy alive. Andy's stomach fluttered as she recalled the moment she'd held the woman pinned to the wall, teeth itching as she'd eyed that pale throat.

Hunger washed over her. With trembling hands, Andy uncapped the container. She refused to look Estell in the eyes.

"I'll make do."

***

For the second time, since Saturday night, Nate watched the impeccably dressed young woman exit Miranda's house, arms now unladen of the dry cleaning and the Book that Andy had once bragged of delivering as though it were a holy icon.

Nate rolled his eyes.

The redhead was on the phone, barking orders about having scarves ready or else. Emily Charlton as far as he could tell lived a very dull life. Work. Work. Work. She'd even gone to work a few hours the day before. He could hardly reason what was so important about a glam rag that would drive anyone to working on a Sunday.

She climbed back into the car.

Nate cast a last glance at the Priestly residence, hatred twisting his face into a grimace as he thought of the woman residing within its walls. He was torn between following the redhead and remaining where he was glaring at the townhouse until its owner burst into flames.

She'd been the genesis of it all. The beginning of the end of him and Andy.

Even more than his hunger to see Andy punished for her abandonment, for the loss of Lily and Doug, Nate wanted for Miranda Priestly's destruction. He snarled, pulled away from the curb and then followed the town car.

He was eager for a little alone time with Andy's precious British snot. She sounded like the type of woman who really needed to be taught a few lessons.

And Nate would happily oblige. He was feeling very obliging these days.

---

Miranda glanced up from the papers scattered atop her desk as Serena entered.

The blonde vampire simply stood in the doorway and waited.

Miranda extended her senses, ears prickling for sound. She sought out and felt the deep and even breathing of the twins, the steady beating of their hearts thrumming a synchronized rhythm of sleep.

Miranda offered a nod in reply to Serena's questioning gaze. The younger vampire vanished from the door.

The Book having been delivered an hour ago by Emily, rested on the corner of Miranda's desk, her concentration too broken to give the mock-up the attention it deserved.

Thanksgiving was in ten days. She'd done little to prepare for the holiday, even less interested in seasonal preparations than usual. The girls would be spending the holidays with their father this year. A good place for them Miranda reasoned, now that Miranda was never sure of her schedule.

She reached for the Book. Opened it.

Miranda stared blankly at the pages before her, listlessly turning one page after another.

Two weeks and four days. Andrea had been gone. And the summonings to Yupanqui had become sporadic in the last week. Midnight. Morning. The middle of the day, when she was busiest at Runway and could ill-afford disappearing for hours at a time. She was never certain when he would send the car.

He'd yet to approach the subject of the Andrea again.

Miranda was uncertain if this was a blessing or an omen.

She brushed rebellious strands of white from her forehead, gritting her teeth at the tremor in her hand.

Tension had created tight bands of strain down her neck and shoulders.

Yupanqui's possessive claims of her body had begun to overstep the bounds of abuse. Fortitude to withstand his attentions physically did not bolster her against the emotional and mental impact of the escalation of such occurrences.

She recalled the early days after her own brutal crossing, chained to one of his dungeon walls, the stenched of death and decay keeping her stomach in constant upheaval and her in fear. Though she'd hardly shown it.

Drops of his blood had kept her just barely tethered to the world as he taunted, abused her... and then would offer promises... promises of that which could be hers... He'd offered freedom through ownership. Power for her submission. Life for surrendering.

And his threat? The pen in her trembling poised above the sticky note beside the Book. He'd have kept her chained eternally, draining her daily and then reviving her with a drop of his blood, an endless cycle that would have seen her mind breaking and feasting upon itself in madness.

Visiting him now reminded her of those days, months. Constantly trapping a plea behind her swollen tongue. In the end she hadn't had to beg at all. She'd simply needed to say 'yes'.

Miranda stared at the clock. It was well past midnight and no summoning for the day. Her body shuddered violently with relief.

Hunger gnawed powerful and relentless. Thirst parched her throat. She had not felt quite so insatiable since her own crossing.

Miranda observed as Serena appeared in the doorway again. The blonde reach out behind her, drawing another woman into the study.

Siting back, folding her arms across her middle Miranda allowed her eyes to take stock of the offering. Nostrils flaring, she subtly inhaled the scent of freshly bathed flesh and appreciated the absence of perfume or strong bath oil.

Miranda barely paid attention to the woman's face except to note that it was slightly pale. Fear. Her clothes were decent. They didn't appear to have been borrowed from the Closet. The young woman appeared healthy, rather than model thin. She glanced at Serena.

"New." Serena smiled coyly. "She's only been an observer until now."

"But I'm very serious... not curio..."

Miranda glared at the woman. Shook her head.

The girl paled further but shut up.

"You understand why you're here?"

"Ye..." Miranda shook her head again. The girl pressed her lips together and then nodded.

"Serena, that's all."

Serena extended a brief bow and backed out of the room closing the door upon her exit.

Miranda remained in her chair hands linked across her middle, simply staring. The scent of fear wafting on the air was a sweet banquet of olfactory delight. Her stomach gave a mild rumble of hunger. The longer she stared the stronger the scent.

Miranda shuddered; her gums began to itch.

"The jacket. The shirt. Lose them."

"O.."

Another look; words died again.

The girl did as commanded. Miranda nodded at the couch and watched as the garments were neatly folded and laid across the arm. The woman stood in the center of the room in her bra and skirt, stockings and shoes. Her skin was dark, exotically so. Almost caramel.

Her breasts were ample, a great deal more than a handful. Miranda's heart beat increased. Her gaze rose to the trembling pulse at the girl's throat.

"Remove it." Her eyes lowered to the bra and watched as it too was peeled away, revealing dark aereoli, nipples that were already pert and erect. The sound of a thundering heart not her own, vibrated along her skin.

"Come. Here."

There was a moment of hesitation but the girl moved and was now stood before her, arms limply dangling at her side, hands twitching with nothing to do and uncertainty. The girl was breathing harder, breaths shallow.

"Closer."

The girl obeyed, moving closer until their knees touched. Miranda sat forward in the chair with a swiftness that shocked a gasp from the girl. She grabbed both arms until the girl let out a sharp cry of fear. Miranda drew her down until their faces were mere breaths apart.

"It would be easy." Miranda breathed. "So very easy." The fingers of her right hand rose to the side of the the girls throat. Her thumb lightly pressed against the throbbing pulse. "Did you think this is just a game?"

A shake of the head.

"Are you going to cry?" She watched the eyes water. The girl shook and moved her head side to side. "Scream?" Miranda waited. The girl shook her head again. "Good. I don't suggest it." She lowered her eyes to the heavy sway of breasts between them. Mouth watering at the sight, Miranda sucked her lower lip between her teeth and swallowed, forcing back the image of one of those stiff nipples dancing on the tip of her tongue. "Close your eyes." Miranda commanded in sultry voice. "If you touch me, I will break this pretty neck."

She drew the girl closer. Miranda ran her knuckles along the swell of a pert breast, her fingers itching to pluck the rigid nipples. She groaned softly and drew her hands away, when a flash of doe brown eyes flickered in her mind.

Irritated, Miranda pushed the image from her thoughts.

She stood, pushed the girl back, noting the different in height in her favor and found herself pleased at Serena's choice. She pressed her hand to the girls waist, the other tilting the head aside as soft breasts pressed into her just beneath her own.

Tender flesh at the side of the girls neck was enveloped by her mouth, the skin warm, vibrating from the rapid pulse.

Miranda suckled; a soft moan escaped the donor's lips.

Miranda's fingers itched to roam at the subtle scent of arousal, to explore but she kept them still.

"Please." The girl swayed, her soft plea causing a clenching between Miranda's thighs and a throb that began to ache painfully.

Miranda closed her eyes, fangs elongated, scraping at delicate skin. The urge to draw this out pressing down on her, make it last... take all that was being offered. She stifled a groan and bit down swiftly.

The girl shuddered, hand raising and then lowering under the remembered threat, flailing impotently as Miranda fed. Soft cries echoed in Miranda's ear until she felt the girl shudder, climax making the blood sweeter, thicker... sating.

Miranda drew back. Wiped at her lips with a napkin from the desk. She returned to herself, sat behind her desk and observed the flush to the girl's skin as the young woman stared at Miranda dazed, wanting, her gaze blatantly offering more.

Miranda's sex clenched. A hard throb saw her grab the edge of her desk. The girl smiled and took a step closer.

"Leave."

Miranda lowered her eyes back to her papers.

"Leave. Now."

She listened as the girl dressed hurriedly. The door opened. Serena returned.

"Will that be all?" Serena pushed the girl out the door and then turned back to Miranda, waiting.

"Make sure she understands, how minuscule she is in the scheme of things. Pay her and then return."

The door closed behind the women. And Miranda raised her gaze from the papers once again, and stared at her trembling hands. Denying herself was not something she was accustomed to, now that she was unofficially bound to Stephen. She swallowed and reached for a glass of water and took a sip.

Frowning, she shook her head. There was no reason for it. No excuse. She was committed to no one. She answered to no one for her wants, or her body's demands and certainly not to a fledgling vampire who would never rise above pet status.

That's not exactly true now is it? She balled her hands into fists at the errant thought. You do answer to someone. A mistress who wears her own collar and leash. She un-balled her fingers and flexed them. "Not for much longer." She whispered to the empty room.

Miranda grabbed the Book and opened the volume, pen in hand, yellow post-it notes ready; her hand with pen poised was frozen as she battled down her arousal. It was becoming rather tedious, the sating of one hunger while the other remained unsatisfied.

In the silence of her study, she asked the missing woman, "What have you done to me, Andrea?"

Her lips thinned with irritation as her concentration remained spoiled. This simply will not do.

Miranda didn't think twice about what she was about to do. If there was a fiery hell, there were a multitude of sins she would be damned for, one more would make no difference.

Miranda lay her pen aside once again.

She leaned her head back against the chair and once again folded her hands over her middle. Miranda closed her eyes.

It was difficult at first, flexing muscles she hadn't used in sometime... but she found her marker, and then latching onto it Miranda followed the strand.

***

Otis had called it the sleep of the undead.

Where dreams were vanquished and neither conscious nor unconscious thought existed.

For Andy it remained always elusive. It didn't stop her from trying as she drifted into fitful sleep which sucked her into one recurring nightmare after the next until finally Andy slipped through the cracks between dreams.

She fell into an eddy of darkness.

And like a feather she floated downward on her back: deeper and deeper toward the sweet promise of oblivion. She could feel it, waiting—the nothing, the absence of all—void and a silence so soothing it promised the warmth and security of a mother's womb.

Andy reached for the pocket of void and sighed when she felt its wispy tendrils extend to wrap around her.

Peace.

So close.

The sudden tug, though gentle was jarring, invasive and threatened to vanquish the peace just within her grasp.

Andy whimpered, recoiled instinctively from the mysterious cord drawing her back into the land of dreams. Freed, she began falling again: heart hammering and then slowing, her body drifting. Weightless.

And then she was sinking in liquid that was neither cold nor hot.

Her eyes fluttered shut as her body was swallowed, the liquid covering the sides of her face, ears, like the slow submersion into a sensory deprivation tank. The liquid lapped at her chin, mouth and began to fill her nostrils but there was no sense of drowning. Only a total envelopment of self. All consciousness and lucidity was slipping away.

Her body surrendered with a long sigh—

Heart slowing until each thump came after long seconds apart and then each beat seemed to paused between the eternity of a minute softer... slower... nothing.

—The tug was stronger this time.

Andy drew in a sharp breath, heart beating again with its first powerful thud. The cord held tight and tugged once again like determined fingers snaked around the wrist of a defiant child.

Andy pressed her body downward against the unwelcome pull. It held. Steady, relentless. Her legs flailed, feet kicked in rebellion to no avail. Her body rose from the liquid void.

An invisible coil of heat wrapped around her torso. And sent an electric pulse which spread like a shock wave from Andy's torso to her toes and then upward to the crown of her head, outward to the tips of her fingers. Upward, downward, inward and out...

Andy was invaded. No part of her spared.

"This and more." Thoughts not her own whispered through her mind.

Her body arced into a tight bow, caught in the electric grip, tingles sharp, intense inside her and out needled over and through her with jarring pulses that flooded every part of her being. Her soft cry echoed across the dreamscape.

Andy's hips writhed, her nipples pebbled. The fierce contractions of the inner walls of her sex mirrored the maddening throb of her clit.

And she was at once terrified and overwhelmed. Her body had been rendered a landscape of want.

"I can give you peace if you let me."

Breathless, Andy's lips parted as the next surge thrummed through her with such force she felt robbed of every sense but feel. It was too much. Not enough... and felt too real within the confines of a dream. Her mind rebelled against this possession.

"Stop," she whispered, chest heaving, she was confused by the incongruity of the sense of weightlessness surrounding her, while her breasts and lower torso felt heavy.

Andy struggled, tried to free herself from the binding, jerking and tensing as the coil constricted around her like a serpent.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Feasting."

Her eyes sprang open.

Twin beacons of blue light faint, growing brighter in the distance, sought her out. Found her.

Fear threaded through Andy's mind as though guided by the steady hand of a seamstress through the eye of a needle.

“No. Leave me alone.”

The coil tugged her along swiftly dragging her towards the blue lights, twin stars shimmering above her, looking down upon her. Peering inside her.

"I held up a mirror for you once. Showed you you're inner reflection and you recoiled."

And suddenly the coils were gone.

Before Andy could get her bearings and flee, her wrists and ankles were trussed by invisible bonds, yanked quickly up and out so that she was spread eagle, suspended above a bed of warm air before her fate registered.

Andy jerked against her bonds, bucked like a wild mare, the beat of her own heart loud in her ears.

"You struggle so valiantly. Still it doesn't change what you are... what you are becoming."

The beacons grew brighter, heating her from within and her struggle was interrupted by gentle caresses on her flesh delivered by unseen fingers drawing swirls on her abdomen. Andy drew in a sharp shuddering breath.

The touch was strange, unsettling but familiar.

“You were mine that first day.” The words reached out to her a whisper across the vast dreamscape. "And I wondered as I lay each challenge at your feet if you would fight for to remain mine." Mesmerized by intense glow of twin blue orbs, she was enthralled. "You did."

Her nerve endings came to life as those fingers danced across her naked skin down the center of her abdomen, dipping into her navel and then drew a light feathery line up between her breasts.

The journalist’s breath hitched at the touch. She couldn’t blink... couldn’t look away from those glowing orbs. Couldn’t shake this new awakening of longing those caressing fingers stirred.

And the faint voice of reason in her mind screamed that this was all wrong.

"And then you left. But I could never truly let go."

Andy fought the growing desire; she willed her body to resist but that touch – god. It felt as if she’d ached for it her whole life.

A hand enclosed around her left breast, lightly massaging it. Andy moaned from surprise and pleasure at the contact.

"And no claim that came after could ever wipe mine away, or blot it out. Or cover it."

Andy barely had time to draw the next breath before she arched into the thumb that brushed over her left nipple. She moaned when fingers squeezed and tweaked the hardening peak gently.

She wanted to scream that this wasn’t right. Her rational mind telling her this shouldn’t be happening. She should be fighting; she should be trying to escape but her body had developed a mind of its own and refused to obey.

“Stop,” she whimpered and flinched inwardly when her whisper was met by a fierce growl.

“Never,” was hissed heatedly in reply to the journalist’s plea.

A blast of fire shot out from the blue orbs. Andy's startled cry was choked off as the fire engulfed her, poured into her, seeking every orifice.

"You were born for me." The heat of those flames lapped at her nipples danced in the indenture of her navel, tormented the erect bud of her clit, pulsed inside her. Throbbing and hot, all consuming.

“God,” Andy whimpered. Fire seared through her blood as her nipple was enveloped inside a lukewarm mouth soothing the flames.

“Oh!” Andy gasped. A tongue swirled around the hardening bud, bathing it lazily. Teeth scraped against the aroused flesh and the fire began to pulsate lower. “God. Oh god,” she moaned softly.

Andy whimpered at the loss of contact as her nipple slipped from the mouth's imprisoning sheath.

Her mind reeled with bewilderment and still those glowing blue orbs now fixed upon her with dark pupils held her gaze imprisoned and that was all she could see, those eyes so sharply in focus it almost hurt to look at them.

“Please,” she whispered.

Deft fingers toyed mercilessly with her nipples. Her body arched once more making contact with the ghost of naked flesh which burned nearly as hot as the flames. Andy longed to see the soft breasts barely brushing her skin, the thigh lying between hers so possessively.

She shuddered as a seeking hand dipped lower over her fevered skin, combing through the tuft of dark curls, damp from moisture, following the path of the fire.

“Oh ... oh…” she panted as fingers danced lightly over her swollen nether lips. “Yes,” she groaned recklessly as a finger teased over her hooded nub and then rubbed against it negligently.

She was wet, swollen and achy.

“Please,” she begged softly, aware that her thighs had parted willingly, begging on their own for more. Still the fingers danced lightly over her flesh, parting her teasingly, barely dipping in to play in the constant flow of moisture.

Andy’s hips rose in desperation and still those dancing fingers denied her. “I need ...” Andy choked out. “Please I ...”

“Mine.”

“No,” she denied softly and then cried out as the teasing intensified. “Nngh.”

The fingers dipped in again, and a soft whimper of desperation erupted from the young vampire's throat. Her body trembled, her thighs quivered. So long... it felt like it had been so long.

“Please,” she husked again. “I need...”

“Tell me,” the husky voice requested, “Tell me what you need.”

And suddenly she knew that voice. There was none other like it. It still haunted her dreams. It haunted and tormented now.

“You.” Andy sobbed as want consumed her. “You.”

The penetration was swift. Hard.

Two fingers entered her, dragging a ragged cry from Andy’s throat. The discomfort was mild. Pleasure mixed with the pain creating an intoxicating blend of stimulus.

Andy met the thrusts wantonly, her hips gyrating as the penetration deepened. A soft keening wail escaped from her lips as those fingers withdrew completely and then drove back into her adding a third, stretching the walls of her sex.

“God...” she groaned, “…Oh god.”

Her eyes remained held in thrall by those blue orbs; she was captivated by the raw need for possession she saw in them as they drilled into her, stripped her until she lay as naked inwardly as outwardly. Her thighs trembled.

Her heart thudded madly in her chest and throat. She was panting, crying out. The pressure continued to build, filling her until she could no longer tolerate being held over the abyss.

“Let me...” she choked off the words as another cry was torn from her lips. A thumb brushed against the hooded nub. That tiny bundle of nerves burned with fever at the brief touch, and then there was another and another brush, each promising but never delivering.

The thumb brushed more firmly against her and a tremble rippled over her.

“Oh yes...”

The touches became teasing again.

 “Mine,” The voice challenged.

Andy tried to say no, wanted to say no... but her body demanded that she give in... let this lover take her to where they needed to go. She knew that voice and knew this was a dream. It was okay to give in. Just this once. Just this once... 'oh god.'

“I know what you want, Andrea,” came the soft whisper, against her throat, a tongue laving the area of skin where Nate had bitten her that night at beach. “What you fear to dream.”

Andy drew in a sharp breath at the sensitivity of the area; teeth nipped at it coyly.

“You can have all that and more.” The thrusting fingers quickened their pace and Andy drove herself hard against them, heaving and panting. So close. The thumb began to apply more pressure. “But you have to say it.”

‘Oh god, so close...’

“Please,” Andrea moaned desperately. “Please.”

“You belong to the Dragon and none other.”

“Yes,” she conceded with a ragged gasp and then she was bursting apart at the sharp piercing of her flesh over the old wound. Her lips parted with a roar.

“Yes!” she whimpered. “Oh. Oh... God,” Andy choked out.

Her body convulsed around the penetrating digits pumping in out of her madly, pulling her climax from her. The sucking pull at her neck created a kaleidoscope of bursting colors and lights behind her now closed eyelids. And she whimpered at the mild twinge of pain as the sharp points retracted from her neck. She shuddered against the gentle laving of a tongue at the reopened wound.

The invisible tethers at her wrists and ankles unraveled. She felt boneless, lethargic.

"Drink, love." her lover whispered and Andy sighed against the warm neck pressed to her lips. Instinct saw her mouth open, her fangs pushing deeply into flesh. The body above her shuddered, cried out softly as Andy's mouth filled with the sweetest of ichor.

The scent of jasmine and neroli wrapped around her as she drank deep.

Andy felt the pull again of the deep dark and welcomed it, feeling the body on top of her shift to her side. Arms wrapped around Andy’s middle and she was drawn back against, smooth lukewarm skin.

“Mine,” purred out silkily like the content rumbling of a wild beast, sent shivers down the journalist’s spine.

“Yes,” she husked tiredly. ‘Yours, Miranda,’ her fogged mind sighed.

‘Miranda!?’

Andy startled awake, eyes wide, shock paralyzing her for long moments.

Her skin was damp from sweat, feverish to the touch. Her gaze darted frantically around her small hovel, searching every shadow and crevice for anything, any sign that what she'd just dream had been real.

It was impossible, but the faded scar on her neck from where Nate had first bitten her ached and was sensitive to the touch.
 
The taste of blood, rich, thick and sweet lay heavy on her tongue. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like fire.

"What the hell...?" She rose to her feet, stripped out of her shirt and ripped the constrictive bandages away. Eyes glaring down at the absence of bruises, not a sign of discoloration.

Gaze casting about in confusion, Andy breathed heavily uncertain if she had just awaken from the dream or had only now fallen into one.

"Miranda?"

***

Miranda uttered a soft, strangled cry.

Eyes snapping open, her spine arched away from the back of her office chair as her nails dug into the leather arms. Her blue eyes pulsed with fierce illumination; reflections of flames danced in her pupils.

Energy danced across her like the current from a live wire.

"Oh my god." Miranda panted.

Shaken, she gripped the desk, head bowed, her hair now a damp mop falling in her face and sticking to the back of her neck.

She lassoed her runaway breath. Pushed off the desk and fell limply against her seat. It may have been awhile but she knew no other experiences in her past would ever rival what she'd just experienced.

She wiped the sweat from her brow.

Swallowing, she reached for the glass of water, tilted it to her lips but not before savoring the rich tang of sweetness on her tongue, the ghost flavor almost real. The heavy scent of sex filling the room was practically dizzying and an intoxicant. Miranda groaned. Drained the water glass. And stared unseeing at the wall across the room. Her lips pursed in a phantom smile, threatening to bloom into one tangible and real. As real as the dream had felt for her. As real as it had felt for Andrea.

Oh you are not playing fair. She admonished herself lightly.

Miranda chuckled softly. Feeling sated and more relaxed than at any time she could recall. And not the slightest bit guilty for resorting to tactics that she'd promised herself she wouldn't. Still she felt more at ease afterward. And satisfied that her tenuous connection with the girl remained.

There had been no contact, no phone call. If the girl was going to continue to be stubborn then Miranda was prepared to fight dirty for what she wanted.

She flinched from questioning whether what she wanted was what was in Andrea's best interest.

She needs to understand. Miranda mused. You've let this go on too long. She needs to understand what she is. Sooner or later she will stand before him, and should Yupanqui find her weak... She stared at the gouges she'd made in the desk with her nails.

Jacqueline was still in the States. And Christian... It would be easier dealing with them and the boy after coronation.

Feeling more stable then she had when her meal had left Miranda hurriedly showered, changed and then threw her concentration onto the Book, determined to work until it was completed and then she and Serena would discuss how best to handle the situation with Jacqueline and Christian until the coronation.

***

Resting within the bowels of his crypt Yupanqui opened his glazed eyes.

His body shuddered violently from powerful climax.

"Hmm." His thin dry lips twisted into a facsimile of a smile. "Now that... is interesting."

What he found more intriguing was that it had not been Dragon's breath which had awakened him, but rather a Gryphon's roar. For a brief moment he'd felt the tenuous pull of his blood before the link was broken. She's close. But what does it mean?

It was not the first time he'd felt the faint tug of that sweet young cub. Miranda's cub.

He mulled over the experience in his mind, while allowing the sleep of Ancients to steal over him again.

---

Line and sinker

Thursday morning saw Andy, awake on edge and glaring at dark ceiling above her.

She saw little point in trying to get back to sleep.

The sun would be rising soon.

The past three nights had been torture.

Andy sat up, a sigh of disgust forcibly parting her lips, body thrumming with restless energy, she barely had to concentrate to feel the phantom heat of flames lapping at her pebble hard nipples, spearing her sex and turning the pool of wetness between her thighs into molten lava.

God.

She squeezed her thighs together to ease the pregnant throb of ache in her sex. Andy cupped her face in the palms of her hands. She was still trembling. Still hungry with want.

She could feel the tingle behind her eyes and new they were giving off enough illumination for a twenty watt bulb.

How did this happen? Maybe it was Miranda's blood.

She had to talk to someone about these dreams. She cringed at trying to imagine broaching the subject with Estell or Otis. They were too much like a grandmother and grandfather. Well not hers but someone's grandmother and grandfather.

Maybe it was a latent masochistic streak, being sexual enthralled by someone who had practically treated her as dirt.

Andy wondered if there were pills: good pills that might be prescribed for such an infliction?

Whatever it was, dreams like the one she'd just awaken from did nothing to put the Fashionista from her mind though Andy had put forth a valiant effort.

Of course she'd never had a dream that had come close to being as intense as these most recent dreams. In fact those earlier dreams now seemed like embarrassing little house wife fantasies by comparison.

Her skin was still hot. Her insides felt mildly singed. Her body raged with the thirst she barely kept in check.

Andy didn't know which was worse, the nightmares of Christian and Nate finding her or the painfully erotic dreams which starred herself and Miranda and threatened to send her crawling back to Runway's editor-in-chief begging for any meager scraps the woman offered.

But never had the temptation been as strong as now.

The pull was so fierce Andy locked her arms around her raised knees and rocked. She wondered if she'd have to anchor herself down physically to keep from going back if only to stand outside across the street to simply stare longingly at the townhouse.

Something had passed between her and Miranda Halloween night when Andy had lost control with the elder Vampire.

Something had been awakened within Andy which had lain dormant perhaps from the first day she had met Miranda, and had felt such an inexplicable warmth when those cutting blue eyes had devoured her on sight.

Andy deflated, expelled a trembling breath upon recalling what Miranda had thought of her then and what she thought of her now.

Her eyes stung

Andy bitterly recognized that Miranda's opinion didn't seem so far from true, especially now. The longer she remained underground the more she felt like the omega bitch cast to the edges of a pack that was not her own.

Of course, she sneered, the Others made pitiful packs. No real leadership among them. They banded together only when necessary, and only a rare few seemed inclined to band together, the weakest of them. She sighed and even the weakest of them, and those who'd been nice to her before her exit from human existence were wary of her now.

She stood, looking around at her meager possessions which continued to dwindle as those not quite pleased with Andy's presence among them took it upon themselves to make it known. Shoes she'd foraged for and found would disappear. What clothes she'd managed to scavenge, those not liberated while she wasn't looking, she would often return to find shredded in rags. And Otis had already replaced three blankets which kept mysteriously disappearing.

Twice now in the two weeks since she'd come to dwell underground she had returned to what had been her hovel to find it had been claimed and she'd had to find another.

Andy snickered. These people certainly didn't bother with subtlety. She'd been hit on the head with anvil after anvil. And she had the fading bruises to prove it.

Her stomach gave a hollow thud. Her veins continued to thrum with sexual energy. Her nerves danced along the edge of a serrated knife.

She felt resentful of her new assigned place in her new world.

A sharp pang in her gut, rang the next warning.

Andy grimaced. It was time.

She rummaged through her things and gave up on finding a pair of shoes.

Barefoot, Andy slipped out of her hovel and wandered out into a tunnel.

Rats scurried along the wall, hurrying out of her way, aware that to some of its not quite human neighbors they made quite the hearty meal. She followed the old piping, accustomed to and taking comfort from the constant rhythmic clanging that echoed from miles away.

A growl brought her up short. Andy paused and peered up into a pair of glowing amber eyes. The large hirsute beast, its hair matted into dred-like locks, stepped into her path towering over her.

Werewolf. Quite a few of those lurked in the tunnels usually in squabbling packs that constantly fought among themselves for dominance.

For a moment her heart flared with terror. She forced her pulse to calm.

"Janks," Andy acknowledged him cordially.

"Move," he growled.

Her temper flared, the sharp edge of hunger and the burn of useless want leaving her in no mood for a game of bully and break the outcast.

Andy made a show of looking around as though the werewolf might have been addressing someone else.

"You," he grinned fiercely. "Out of the way."

Hair standing on end, she felt the presence of others drawing nearer. Maybe to watch. Maybe to join in.

She'd crawled away bloodied and broken more than once from skirmishes with packs such as this.

Wolves, tigers, and bears...oh my. Andy smiled, nearly laughed out loud at her inner joke.

"The walkway seems big enough for the both of us."

"Brave talk from the toss-away." His growl sparked a chorus of snarls from his temporary allies.

She clenched her jaw. Stood her ground.

"Yeah," Andy sneered, "braver than an asshole who stands seven feet tall and still needs a posse to take on one woman."

He barked, faked a jump, his eyes narrowing with wariness when Andy failed to flinch.

"Move," he challenged "or we go through you."

The others banded near him, mouths dripping saliva onto the dirt floor of the tunnel.

Andy cocked her head to the side. Inhaled instinctively and smelled nervousness, fear. Interesting.

That they continued targeting her so often had made her curious. They could have just ignored her all together... snubbed her or continued with stealing her things. Instead they seemed obsessed with forcing Andy into the role of belly crawler. But why? she often wondered.

At the present moment however she was neither curious, nor inclined to belly crawl. She refused to play that role for Miranda Priestly and she wasn't about to adopt it for a bunch of sewer dwellers who lacked the balls to face her one on one.

Andy hadn't known what she'd expected when Otis and the others had first lead her beneath the city with to the tunnels that stretched for miles.

She smiled bitterly, maybe she'd half expected something like the televised series Beauty and The Beast. An underground Utopian-like people who dressed in Shakespearean garb, recited poetry while some child protégé dressed like a porcelain doll played the violin.

But Otis wasn't the widely respected Father.

Most of the Others seemed to simply ignore him. He was a relic from a past most had forgotten or had never experienced. The small group of Others who'd come to her aid had apparently been paid by the mysterious Wonder Woman to help Otis smuggle her underground.

And though gentle natured and sweet, Estell was nothing like the scholarly midwife named Mary.

Reality was a far cry from the TV show.

Andy hadn't been embraced as a fellow outcast. The Others weren't testing her and simply waiting for her to prove herself. She simply wasn't wanted. But she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere but up. And up was dangerous. She didn't need to know what Christian really wanted with her to understand that she had a lot more to lose than her life.

"You can always try, Janks." She smiled at the lead werewolf and then offered his companions a sniff of disdain. "But I wouldn't advise it. Not today."

Fury poured from the beasts.

Andy shuddered but not from fear, but rather from the rousing energy permeating the space between her and her antagonizers. It was almost dizzying the scent of rage and hostility cloying at the air seeping into her skin.

She could almost taste it on her tongue. And she wanted more. There was an animalistic joy, some part of her analyzed with detachment, in feeling one's control slip. It was almost tangible enough to touch: the potent surge of this part of her which craved violence, like shedding skin, shape-shifting into some new thing.

She swayed. Grabbed hold of the piping to steady herself. What she felt reminding her of that interview with Mrs. Perkins, the grieving mother and the day in subway when she'd told off the bastard who'd been purposely blocking her path. But she didn't feel sick or guilty now. She wanted to hold on to the feeling—consume it. Wanted to provoke more of it.

More.

"Well... go ahead." She stared down her antagonizers, feeling the distance grow in leaps and bounds from the Andy Sachs she had been to the thing she was now. "Go through me. Go around me. But spare me the fucking posturing. Because I'm really starting to get bored."

The current leader snarled, tensed as though prepared to rush her. Andy's heart thrummed. Her teeth itched as her fangs trembled, pushing their way through her gums. She flexed her fingers, hunger and thirst burning raw.

Her eyes became fixed on the neck of the werewolf in the lead. Its heartbeat called to her, sang with the blood pulsing through its chambers. Strong. Thick. Potent.

Her leg muscles burned with tension. Adrenaline coursed through her system like brush fire. The standoff was making her restless. The shackles had fallen away from that inner thing she kept on a tight leash and chained.

"I can smell you, Janks." She raised her steady and fierce gaze to the werewolf and sniffed in his direction as though savoring the scent of a tempting banquet. "And you. Smell. Like." Her voice was soft whisper. She began closing the short distance between herself and the pack. "Blood and meat,"

The pack snarled again but neither seemed inclined to make the first move. She sensed their wariness and uncertainty.

"Well," Andy's grin bared her fangs, long sharp and glistening, "since you can't decide, maybe I should go through you."

"Andy!" The sharp call of her name drew her up short before she could take a step. Andy blinked as though waking from a dream. The lead wolf growled and then backed away watching her, its gaze one of confusion. The remainder of the pack vanished with him. "There you are."

Andy swallowed, took several deep breaths and turned slowly to find Otis staring from her to where the antagonizers had been. His gaze finally settled on her assessing, worried. Her breath was thready, pulse jumping. She didn't dare approach him feeling as she did because at the moment the only thing she saw, smelled was prey.

"The butcher's up top. Thought you might like to know." He took a step towards her.

"Right." Andy replied hastily and stumbled back several steps. She nodded. "I... I was just on my way."

His expression turned curious. "You alright, Andy?"

"Yeah, Otis." Andy turned away and continued in direction she'd started. "Peaches and cream." Her heart finally quivering over the confrontation.

What the hell was that? Shock rippled through her as she replayed her momentary lapse into sanity.

I'm gonna get myself killed. Again. She sighed warily. Normally she kept her distance, avoided confrontations when she could. Her moods too unpredictable swung like a pendulum between angry, sad, bereft and furious. Sometimes she felt reckless. Never more reckless than this recent display.

Great going Andy. Now you'll always have to watch your back.

But some part of her didn't regret it. Her dreams and ambitions may have gone up in smoke but she'd be damned if she would play the broken omega to bunch of wannabe alphas.

Andy paused on her climb up to one of the levels nearer the surface. She inhaled deeply.

She could feel it, now. Smell it. The rising of the sun.

She pulled the hood of her parka over her head and met the butcher at one of the main access tunnels.

The man wasn't stupid. He kept his distance. But Andy could have told him that twenty feet wasn't enough of a gap between him and something like her.

She pulled out a few bills from the money Miranda had stuffed in her pockets weeks ago. She wrapped the money around a rock, secured it with a rubber band and then tossed it at the butcher's feet.

He kept his eyes on her as he lowered a container wrapped in a brown paper bag on the floor. "Ha-have a good day," he fumbled the words.

"It could get better," Andy chuckled darkly, the words escaping before she could sensor them. She lifted her gaze fully, allowing him to see her eyes beyond the the hood of the parka.

With a choked gasp, he grabbed the money and then hastily retreated. Andy marked his departure, quelled the urge to give chase. Food.

Instead she snatched up her butcher's blend and followed her path back underground.

She climbed down to her level but tore the bag before reaching her hovel. By the time she reached the corner and settled onto her pallet the lid was on the floor and the container was upturned at her lips.

Andy drank down the two liters of the pungent liquid.

She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily, calming as the some of the edge waned. It was never enough.

She focussed on the date, forced herself toward more human-like thoughts. Despite being cut off from the world above, she refused to forget it existed. That it moved on. In a week it would be Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving. Andy snorted bitterly. Hold the turkey mom, afraid I can't make it. I'm suffering from a severe case of vampirism. She tried not think of her parents; such thoughts lead to feelings of hopelessness and wondering if she'd ever see them again—wondering if they worried, having not heard from her.

The phrase 'You can never go home again', had never more seemed such an apt saying.

Her thoughts roamed aimlessly. Childhood memories of Lily and Doug surfaced and those memories sharp and fresh as always turned bitter and foul until she forcefully put them out of her mind.

She'd mourned Doug and Lily all she'd intended to. Maybe they'd had as little choice in their crossing as she, but what had come after, she would not fool herself into thinking, they couldn't have made different choices. They could have come to her ... they could have told her ... and okay, she frowned it might have taking some convincing that they weren't yanking her chain, but she would have believed them and she would have done anything to help them ... and they'd known it.

Nate was out there somewhere... and no doubt looking for her. Nate and Christian. And maybe Christian had other people like Nate to do his dirty work.

Thinking about those things robbed her of breath and covered her in a cloud so thick and black she felt like she was suffocating. Sooner or later she'd have to deal with it... with them. Deal with what was happening to her.

But right now she could feel the sun had completed its ascent over the city above. And though it wasn't her enemy. For the moment its warmth and light were out of her reach.

Andy curled up on her pallet and drifted off to sleep.

In her dreams she was a ghost from the play Our Town.

She yelled and called out to passing people, touched them and yet no one responded, people laughed and talked all around her without ever seeing or hearing her at all.

Her pictures had vanished from frames and desktops in her parents’ house, and her diploma faded before her eyes, and she screamed and begged and yet no one heard her, they merely laughed and talked, or watched television, while Andy begged the world, anyone to remember her... to at least remember she'd once been among them.

---

Nate smiled, after having followed the woman for five nights, rather than follow her this time, he waited. He'd concluded she was either very cautious or she had no idea where Andy was.

But that didn't mean she couldn't help.

He waited for the car and driver to leave. Waited for the woman to head up the steps of her apartment building where they would be in shadows and then he dashed across the street.

Nate pressed her against the door with his body as though they were lovers.

"Bloody hell! Get off..." The woman struggled, Nate grabbed her by the back of her hair and yanked.

"Hello, Em." He smiled. "Uh uh," he warned when she opened her mouth to scream. "Don't scream," he growled. "I'd hate for the police to find you lying dead in a pool of your blood."

He smiled at her whimper.

"Don't worry, Em. I don't want to kill you. I just need your help finding a friend of mine. A mutual friend. So we're gonna talk. And I'll tell you what I want." He snaked his hand around the front of her bony waist and shoved it down the waistband of her skirt and panties. Brushing his fingers along her clit in soothing strokes. He laughed at her whimper. "And we'll get to know each other, okay."

"O--okay. Please don't hurt me."

Sorry. No fun if it doesn't hurt.

"I'll be good to you." He smirked against her hair. "If you'll be good to me. You're good girl—aren't you Emily?"

"Ye-yes."

"And you're going to show me aren't you...?" He parted her nether lips with the thick pad of his index finger. "Just how good you are?" Nate pushed in until the first knuckle breached the tight opening.

"Please..."

"Shh. No need to beg sweetheart." He murmured gently, "I'll give you what you need." He pressed his erection against her ass. "Been awhile, hasn't Em?" He grinned smugly. "I can smell it, you know. No one's played with this sweet little body in a long time. Guess your boss doesn't leave you much time for recreation. But we'll play, baby. And you'll like it... some of the time." She was wet soaking his finger with arousal and fear.

He spun her around leaving his hands in her panties, still stroking her, he leaned forward to nip at her neck.

Her eyes widened with recognition. "You're..." she gasped when his finger drove in deeper. "On her desk... she had... your picture..." He nodded and then silenced her with a kiss.

"Andy really liked you, Em. Guess I wanted to know what all he fuss is about. Umm, I bet you taste delicious. Just like tea and crumpets." He laughed again. "That's what you British people eat, isn't it? Scones, and crumpets, and biscuits. I guess I'll find out for myself."

"I... oh... I..." her hips had begun rocking under his constant manipulation.

"I'm gonna taste you. And do so much more." He slipped his hand from her panties and licked his fingers. Observing with greed all the signs of her fear and arousal. He wanted to laugh. "Come along, Baby. I'll have you back before you can say Gucci."

Nate held her tightly tucked under his arm like a girlfriend as he led her towards his car. He wondered if the British screamed with an accent. He was looking forward to finding out. He settled her into the car and quickly snapped a tie around her wrists binding her wrists together. He pushed up her skirt draping the hem over her cuffed wrists.

With ease he ripped the dainty fabric of her panties away grinning broadly at her gasp of fright.

"No screaming." He warned again. At least not yet. "I'd hate to mess up that pretty face."

Climbing into the passenger seat Nate drove them to the warehouse district. He looked at the pale long legs exposed to him and the slender thighs.

A little too skinny, he thought. But then this wasn't a date. And when he was done, Emily would do whatever he wanted.

---

Andy frowned trying to make out the faint sounds coming from down one of the tunnels.

Straining her ears she leaned towards the noise. Holding her brown-bagged acquisition close to her chest to prevent spillage she couldn't help making a step in the direction of the sound. She was made even more curious by the recognition. And a strong feeling that...

"Don't!" a female voice hissed from behind her.

She froze when a hand fell on her shoulder and gripped it tight.

Andy spun around, barely keeping her bag from falling from her grip. Eyes glowing, she grabbed the hand from her shoulder and growled at the intruder.

"Sorry." The woman grinned sheepishly. "Didn't mean to startle you, but..." She aimed her gaze at the tunnel Andy had been headed towards. "You don't want to go down there. It's a really bad idea."

"Music." Andy frowned to cover her embarrassment. "I heard music. And I felt..." Miranda. She looked down the tunnel, curious. "I just wanted..."

"Well don't," the woman said testily. "Not unless you got a death wish. And that's the quickest route to a swift or torturous end. They don't like party crashers down there."

"Whose down there?"

The woman grimaced. "No one you want know, believe me." She looked Andy over. Andy blushed, feeling grungy in her borrowed clothes, and her hooded T. The woman frowned. "You're not from here, are you? I mean you're new."

Andy shifted nervously. The woman leaned towards her, sniffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah figured. Even in street drag, you smell like money." And then the woman's expression cleared. "You're Otis and and Estell's friend, right? The one they brought down in here in all the tattered labels." She raised curled her lips in disdainful sneer. "Every one's been talking about the poor little rich girl with no where to go."

"I'm not rich." Andy frowned but she relaxed a little. "I'm Andy."

"Girl, I don't know where you got educated," the woman arched a thin brow and smirked, "but where I come from, people who where Prada, are usually rich."

"Well I'm not," Andy snapped. "And you've got no right to judge me."

"So what happened?" The woman grinned, her eyes raking over Andy with scorn. "Daddy's money couldn't buy you into the club?"

Without thought, Andy reached out with one hand and grabbed the woman by the throat.

"You don't know me." Andy slammed her back against the wall. She followed up by pinning the woman in place with her body. "You don't know what you're talking about," Andy's voice was a low menacing rumble, "so why don't you shut your goddamn mouth," her right brow formed a sharp inverted 'v' in punctuation of her words. "before I shut it for you."

The woman's eyes grew large, and then fluttered closed for a moment. She opened them again, but kept them lowered in a gesture of submission.

Ashamed of her own actions, Andy snatched her hand away as though burned. She gripped the bag she still held.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ..." She needed to drink.

The woman looked up at her surprised, she looked Andy over again, reassessing her.

"Alright, Prada-girl. I'll give you props. I underestimated you."

Andy stared at the woman incredulously as she eyed the young vampire back with a look of respect. The woman burst into laughter.

"Someone's cranky," she teased. "Funny though," she cocked her head at Andy again and sniffed the air in the vampire's  direction, "everyone's calling you the little lamb." She chuckled. "But you growl and smell like a lion. Bet you gotta bite like one too." She held her hand out. "I'm Raja, by the way."

"Well," Andy stared at the hand and then tentatively shook it. "Umh hi."

Raja glanced down at Andy's bag.

"You get that from a butcher?" She looked surprised. Andy nodded. "No wonder you're in such a bad mood."

"It works." Andy defended.

Raja chuckled again. "You only think it does." She leaned in an sniffed at Andy's neck like a canine. Her nose faintly brushing Andy's skin. "It's not enough. Not for your kind."

Andy swallowed, unsettled but had yet to move away from the woman's intrusion of personal space.

"You don't ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I don't know you." Raja shrugged. "But I do know a little about vampires. And that ..." she glanced at Andy's bag, "...may be enough for the cannon fodder. It may even take a little of the edge off for awhile ..." She brushed her lips against Andy's ear. "But it'll never satisfy." Andy shivered. "And that thirst will just come back every single time and a lot more fierce."

"What are you?" Andy tensed, stepped back from the woman.

She smiled. "Like I said, I'm Raja." Raja gave Andy's arm a light squeeze. "The go get it girl, in these parts. Anything need, anything you want and I can get it," She leaned in towards Andy again and inhaled deeply. Her eyes closed and then opened again. "I'll be seeing you, Andy. Gotta jet. Friday night's a party night." Her eyes fastened on Andy mouth. "You're always welcome to join me."

She walked past the former journalist down the corridor and then turned walking backwards.

"I know you're a big girl, figure you can take care of yourself and all, but it's not exactly safe for you is it, wandering around here all alone?" She smiled again, coyly. Something about the devilish glint in her eyes caused Andy's stomach to clench. "Next trip up to meet the butcher, come find me." She blew Andy a kiss. "Promise to keep you safe, Prada-girl."

Andy watched her leave, unsettled, intrigued and curious.

***

"That would be Raja," Estell tossed out while rummaging through her things.

"That's what she said." Andy sighed. "But who is she?"

She paced Estell's small cubby.

Restless and on edge, the purchase from the butcher's had taken some of the edge off the thirst but Andy still felt... un-sated as if a beast prowled within behind a flimsy cage. She resented the woman for being right and yet wondered if the Butcher's Blend would have helped more had the Raja not have placed the suggestion in her mind that it wouldn't.

Of course she wouldn't admit that it had never actually been helping, prior to Raja's words other than taking some of the edge off. And that it was for that reason Andy had been successfully avoiding the roaming packs below the city after that last encounter, afraid she would snap like she had earlier with Raja and not be able to stop.

Otis and Estell were different. Their presence calming in spite of the calamitous emotions bubbling under Andy's surface.

But maybe, Andy reasoned with dogged determination, it had only been a few days; maybe she just needed time to adjust, to the butcher's stuff. Yeah,–time.

"She's good people." Estell's smiled triumphantly and snatched a pair of Keds from her large pile of finds. "Here. Might be a little big." She glanced at Andy's bare feet. "But they might come in handy."

"She's just so..."

Andy took the shoes, smiling at the woman for the selfless offering, even as her insides cringed at the idea of actually putting the ghastly sneakers on her feet. Andy had to pause, wondering to herself, exactly when she'd become such a snob. It wasn't as if she could afford to snub her nose, when most of her offerings as of late came from discarded trash.

"Friendly?" Estell encouraged.

"That's one way of putting it." Andy thought of the woman's forwardness. "Frisky. She's very frisky."

"Raja's not had an easy time of it, Andy. Her kind is trained for one thing." She arched a brow with meaning and Andy blushed. "She escaped, got away, but some lessons in life tend to follow you." Estell shrugged. "She uses what she knows to survive."

"So she's a..."

"And here got you some Calvin Kleens, good as new." Andy laughed at the pronunciation, but accepted the jeans and the shirt and the other garments.

"Estell, you don't have to do this ..."

"Oh well," Estell blushed. "You's a good kid, Andy. Never did look down at us folk—and sides, one day you'll return the favor." She shrugged. "Otis thinks a lot of you, believes you're something special, and well I s'pose I do too." She looked down. "I knows they ain't sort of stuff you used to ..." she glanced at the clothes. "But hopefully they're close 'nough."

"I'm nothing special, Stel." Andy knelt beside the woman on the floor and kissed her cheek. "Anything is fine. I don't need fancy things so don't you be short-changing yourself for the likes of me. You've done enough for me already." Andy shrugged, her smile slipping, "Besides I'm not going to be wearing them anywhere special."

"Yous a good kid," Estell looked at her in earnest, "And with all the makings of something special. You'll do some great things Andy. Don't you think you won't." She squeezed Andy's hand. "Don't give up on the world out there, baby girl. You ain't gonna be down here forever. You'll see."

Andy offered a grin of skepticism and then asked in afterthought, "So I don't have to worry about Raja's teeth at my throat."

Estell looked up mildly surprised by the question and then laughed. "Oh goodness gracious child, no. She'd be more inclined to offer you hers." At Andy's shocked look, Estell giggled. "You could do a lot worse. That one, like you, is more than she seems."

---

"You ever wonder what she's up to?"

"What who's up to?" Nigel arched a brow.

"The bloody queen of England, Nigel who else?" Emily rolled her eyes. "She whose name we do not mention around here for fear of Miranda's wrath falling upon our heads."

"Six?" Nigel's eyes widened. "Are you talking about Six?"

Emily offered a perfunctory nod.

"Have you gone round the bend?" Nigel's eyes widened and then narrowed. "Spend your Sunday night in the embrace of a bottle of Jack?" He tsked at her. "I've told you time again, the cheap stuff will rot your brain."

"Oh come on, Nigel." Emily huffed indignantly, "Well aren't you the least bit curious?" Emily shrugged leaning against the door to Nigel's office. "I mean she practically had it made, and then she simply walks away from Miranda and a job that might have opened a million doors for her, and not only does Miranda not crush her, she gets her a job at the Mirror."

"No." Nigel shook his head. "I can honestly say, I'm not curious. It's been several months now and that ship has sailed."

"She hasn't written anything for weeks." Emily pressed. "Supposedly she's out of town on some sort of long term assignment."

"So?" Nigel frowned apparently not following and confused as to why Emily would know so much.

"Well, I read in the paper that her parents were murdered. That was like eleven days ago. And no one's been able to get up with her."

"Murdered?" Nigel slumped in his chair. "How...?"

"Really doesn't make sense does it, that her new boss wouldn't have the heart to tell her the news." Emily eyed him curiously. "I could see if it were Miranda. But few bosses are ruthless as Miranda."

"Emily," Nigel's eyes narrowed with suspicion, "what's this about?"

"I'm just worried, Nigel is all."

"You?" Nigel practically choked on his shock. "You hated her."

"Oh please." Emily scoffed. "I was right and bloody pissed about Paris." Emily shrugged. "Who wouldn't have been? It isn't like I could have gone anyway with a bloody broken foot. But she did pick me out some very lovely clothes."

"And now you've decided after these many months you want to be friends?" Nigel arched a brow in skepticism.

"Well she wasn't that bad." Emily offered a small smile. "So you, you were like her Henry Higgins, Nigel. In all this time, she's never once called you...?"

---

Ripples on the surface...

Andy tossed the money as she always did across the tunnel.

The butcher placed the brown-bagged container on the floor grabbed the money and left quickly.

It was quickly and easily becoming a tiring ritual. One Andy was growing less than enthusiastic over. Stomach churning with hunger, and yet it was less than eager for the taste of what awaited her in the bag. Not to mention it was putting a major dent in her cash flow.

Andy glanced over her shoulder as she scooped up her purchase and there was Raja, looking as bored as Andy felt.

She hadn't had to solicit the woman's company at all.

Since their initial meeting Friday, the woman seemed to pop up everywhere, shadowing Andy's every move, following along at a distance when Andy made her daily trek to the surface tunnels to meet the butcher. Raja's presence was intrusive but mildly comforting at the same time.

The packs Andy normally encountered seemed less inclined to bother her whenever her shadow was present. Andy had no idea why that was unless they didn't like the idea of having a witness to their bullying.

She frowned at the woman and received a rakish grin in return.

"You do know," Raja tilted her head as Andy moved past her to the manhole, "You can do a lot better than that crap he's feeding you."

Andy looked up into the woman's face. It was smooth, light pecan. The green eyes so dark, they refracted light. Her dark lips were full, plush and looked soft. Prominent cheek bones and a high forehead. Andy thought the woman resembled Angela Bassett.

Andy lowered her eyes, studying closely the provocative clothes, the overlarge sweatshirt was collarless and hung off the woman's smooth shoulder, dropped low to reveal the beginning swell of generous pecan breasts, and the jeans, though worn and nearly threadbare might have been painted on.

Though Raja, seemed to have been one of the homeless who fared not much better than the others, she was always clean. And her clothes, though worn were obviously treasured, and taken care of as well as the woman could. Her feet were bare though that wasn't always the case, but the tunnels farther down were warm. The woman's toenails like her finger nails were painted metallic cinnamon color.

Andy glanced back up, curious, and feeling more than a little warm now, and knowing for a certain why that was. She frowned at the smirk on Raja's lips.

"Thanks," Andy murmured. "But murder's not really my thing."

"You gotta lot to learn, Prada-girl." Raja smirked. "If every vampire killed its meal there'd be a helluva lot less humans in the world. And your secret existence wouldn't be so secret now would it?"

Andy turned sharply to question what the woman meant by that only to find that Raja had vanished. Shaking her head from irritation, she made her descent, and hurried back to her hovel, pausing only once to stare briefly down the tunnel Raja had warned her from.

After three more nights of the same types of dreams featuring Miranda and every possible sex act Andy could imagine and some she'd never even thought possible, Andy found herself both eager for and dreading sleep. Putting it off as long as possible until her body finally succumbed to the need.

She was surprised that she would even need it, stubbornly ignoring Estell's gentle warnings that the Butcher's Blend was not enough to sustain her in energy for long.

Lying on her pallet, staring up at the same stone walls that never changed, never yielded answers to any of her questions, Andy found herself restless. She found herself wondering how Miranda would spend her Thanksgiving. If she'd share a meal with the girls or if the woman would spend it alone toiling over the Book.

Once upon a time, she would have known. Having been privy to Miranda's schedule as a second assistant. Andy frowned and thought back to the previous November. The twins had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with Miranda. Which meant most likely they would spend this Thanksgiving with their father and would be spending their Christmas with him as well.

She felt an odd pang at thinking of woman having to spen that day alone.

Of course there were other questions now, flitting through her mind about Miranda. How long had she been a vampire? Before or after the twins? There was no mistaking that Miranda had given birth to them, they too closely resembled their mother for that not to have been the case, but if it had happened after Miranda's crossing how had it been possible?

How much power and influence did Miranda have among the Vampires?

Andy's brow had furrowed into deep lines. She tried to imagine Miranda, a vampire Miranda skulking about in alleys preying on victims for blood. It wasn't an image that worked. The mother of two children, with a well known face just wandering the city and murdering at random was too ludicrous an idea to believe.

And yet somehow Andy couldn't imagine Miranda dining on anything as pedestrian and disgusting as Butcher's Blend. Which gave Andy pause, to further chew on Raja's words.

She was still mulling over Raja's words when Otis came to visit her that Monday night.

Handing Andy a pair of old jeans and some sneakers, he grinned like it was his birthday. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Andy frowned with suspicion.

"Up. I've got something to show you."

"Otis, I don't think that's ..."

"Andy trust me—we'll be safe. "

Andy gave but a minute of thought. She honestly didn't need much convincing. She was growing stir crazy underground.

Trapped in her little hovel all she could think about was Miranda. And now the mysterious Raja. And she'd tried desperately to put Miranda out of her mind, but the harder Andy tried the more relentless Miranda returned to her thoughts and dreams.

"Alright."

She rose and slipped into her jeans, an old t-shirt and a hoody. Andy slipped the sneakers on her feet while gallantly ignoring the crusty stiffness to them. 

"Lead on McDuff."

***

Strong gusts of wind whipped Andy's hair wildly about her face.

It was far from the tallest building in the city but the view was spectacular. Manhattan was lit up like a Christian tree. The rumble of vehicle engines, and the blare of horns, front doors and car doors slamming, muted music from dance clubs and car radios, and bits and pieces of conversations were snatched away on the wind and carried to her perch on the roof top.

It was like a discordant parade.

Andy swayed as though entranced by the sweetest music, arms outstretched her sleeves fluttered in the wind. She soaked up the sights and sounds of humanity like a starved woman entering a city after a long trek through the dessert.

"This is nice." She grinned and looked over her shoulder, letting her arms fall down at her side. "Thank you Otis."

Otis nodded and moved to her side.

"Jump."

Andy's nice peaceful feelings ground to a halt like the needle across a scratched record.

She glanced down sharply at the thirty story drop. Without batting an eye she glanced up at Otis and replied, "Say what now?"

It was obvious, to her at least, that she had clearly heard wrong, and clarity was indeed very much needed. Because he had not just invited her to jump off a thirty story building. Not in her reality.

He peered over the side, scratched his chin and studied the distance down with a thoughtful expression. Otis nodded once again and then turned back to meet her disbelieving gaze.

"Jump."

"Uh-huh." Andy glanced at him with the same thoughtful expression he'd used when looking over the roof. "I'll just get right on that." She mimicked his nod. "Yeah. I'll see ya...AHHH!" The rest of her sentence segued into a scream as his broad hand slammed into her back. Night air was pushing into her face; the ground was rushing up to meet her.

Instinct was a like a shot of foreknowledge imprinted upon her body, albeit a little too late.

Andy's arms shot out palms down but before she could maneuver her legs and feet into a better position she landed face down, but her nose never made impact with ground; her body froze, posed in a perfect balance on tiptoes and the palms of her hands as though she'd just executed a push up.

Her frame trembled from tension and the percussion of shock, and then her left arm gave under the pressure having bore more of her weight initially; a resounding snap along that arm communicating not only the sound of the break but pain receptors sent the message to her brain and then her brain to her arm and Andy fell over onto her right side cradling her arm to her chest with a grunt and soft hiss.

"Fuck! Fuck." Her eyes snapped shut. "That hurt."

She was too stunned to move, more from disbelief that she'd just been pushed off a roof, nearly plummeted to her death, than the pain of her broken arm, which didn't hurt nearly as much as she remembered from the first time she'd broken an arm about six years prior.

"Whoop! You did it." She could hear the sound and vibration of feet smacking the pavement, heading in her direction, the uneven breathing and slight wheezing of someone well past the age running could be considered healthy. "You did it."

She opened her eyes. Peered up at the wizened face blocking out the night sky. The old man flinched. Which meant her eyes were glowing as they often did when she was upset, extremely sad, horny, hungry, or angry as hell. Andy was beginning to wonder if there were any moments in which her eyes didn't glow.

"Don't go getting all fangy with me girly." Otis shook his head. "You should be pleased."

Pleased!? She blinked rapidly, and stared as if he'd just declared he was the messiah. The only thing keeping her from ripping him to shred was the fact he was old.

"Otis," Andy sat up, secretly creeping herself out as the maneuver reminded her of a corpse sitting up in coffin, "clearly your definition of what constitutes a celebratory moment differs drastically from mine, that or high altitudes are surely a detriment to your ability for higher reasoning."

Otis blinked. "Huh?" He stared at her as though she'd just spoken Chinese.

Andy blinked. Shit. I'm channeling Miranda again.

"Huh?" Otis questioned again. "You didn't happen to smack your head on the pavement did you?"

Andy growled and tamped down on her apparent inner Miranda. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Andy."

"You shoved me off a fucking building, Otis! What kind of sick joke is that?"

"Andy!"

"Jesus, Otis, you could have killed me. Is that what this is about... because it's really starting to get kind of old considering the number of times I've already..."

"Andy!"

"What!"

"You're not dead."

"Well obviously." She snapped. "No thanks to you!"

Andy rose to her feet, again creeping herself out with images of corpses rising from a coffin. It was a little disconcerting, kind of like being pulled to her feet by marionette strings, only her mind was the puppeteer for the rest of her body. She didn't just stand up or sit up anymore, instead she simply rose to an upright position like a stiff board. Andy wondered if she'd have to relearn to just stand up like a normal person again.

"No. I mean..." he pointed up at the roof, from which she'd just plummeted, "...you're not dead."

"What are you talking about?" She huffed with irritation. "Of course I'm not..." Her eyes widened.

She stared down at the ground and then back up at the roof. Andy dropped to her ass as though someone had conked her on the head or had cut the puppet strings. Andy stared at him with amazement.

"I'm not dead." Her arm gave a twinge and her eyes narrowed. "My arm's still broke."

"Well yeah," Otis wrinkled his nose with distaste. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his bomber jacket. "That landing was as pitiful as any I ever seen."

Her mouth fell open.

"You need to practice. Your form's all off."

"Otis." Andy hissed.

He made a tisking sound, "And that arm flailing thing was kinda' pathetic."

"Otis." Andy was on her feet again, glaring at the old man with warning.

Otis shook his head. "What were you trying to do? Grow propellers?"

"Otis!" Andy snapped.

"What?"

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed with exasperation, "Shut up."

"I'm just saying..."

"Well don't." she sniffed. "You still pushed me off a roof."

"Well I did ask you to jump."

"Oh my god!" She grabbed her hair with the hand of her uninjured arm. "You're insane."

She looked up again. They fell in step beside each other. Andy drew the top of her hoody over her head. She paused catching a sight of a shadow darting out of view. Andy frowned, sniffed at the wind and then relaxed. Raja.

"You have a lot you need to learn about what you are, Andy."

"Well do you think you could do it in a way not designed to give me a heart attack?"

Otis glanced at her sharply. "Andy, you do know right, it's physically impossible for you to have a heart attack."

"Well it felt like my heart was stopping. Thankfully it's still pounding." She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. "No thanks to you."

"You're a vampire, Andy." Otis spoke, slowing his steps. Andy frowned and slowed beside him as they made their way through the district aligned with abandoned warehouses.

"I know that."

"No. You don't fully get it." He turned. "And it's going to get you destroyed."

"Then what don't I get?"

He stopped and looked at her hard.

"You have a simulation of a heartbeat but it's not real. It does not pump blood to and from it. It doesn't keep oxygen flowing through your brains because you don't have a breath. And you don't need oxygen."

"Otis..."

"Andy wait. Your pulse sounds loud in your head and it feels strong in your body because it shouldn't be, it's out of place. Like a whisper in an empty hall. I can hear it. A vampire can hear it. But I guarantee you if a doctor were to place a stethoscope to your chest, he'd barely hear register the sound. If he heard it at all. Because it's not real, it's like an echo, a bodily memory. It thinks it should beat so it does."

"I don't understand this ..."

Otis grimaced and smiled at her compassionately. He exhaled on the cold wind and a mist of vapor formed on the air in front of his face, heat mixing with cold. "Breathe out," he instructed.

Andy pushed breath from her mouth, expecting to see the same vapor in the air as she had with Otis. She didn't.

"You have no breath. You breathe in and out from habit... it's a necessary trick your mind plays on your body. Camouflage a very powerful vampire trick for survival. But not every vampire can do it."

Andy felt chill ripple down her spine. She shoved her hands in her pocket against the cold.

"Let me guess. Now you're gonna tell me I'm not really cold."

His smile was sad. "You can feel the change in temperature, sure. And your mind tells you that you should feel cold, so you react as though you feel cold."

Andy stared off at the distance and then broke away from him. She moved to sit on an old bench in front of deserted packing plant.

Otis followed.

"Nate had a heartbeat."

"No he didn't," Otis countered gently. "Not if he can't withstand the sun, as I suspect." He looked away from her his expression thoughtful. "If you really think back and remember you'll realize that you never heard his heart beat, or saw him breathing."

"I'm a reporter, Otis I'm trained to notice things out of usual."

"Andy, human minds are fragile," he regarded her with compassion, "it believes what it's taught to be true. You probably noticed things that you passed off or quickly put from your mind. Because it's what the mind does when it can't make sense of something out of context. Even your reporter's mind—why would it notice something that could walk and talk without a heart a beat? Strange things happen everyday that people dismiss as tricks of the mind. But you exist Andy. I exist and there are a lot of other things inexplainable to the human mind, incomprehensible and which defies all logic that exists as well."

Andy frowned and closed her eyes, thought back on her time With Nate and the others after Paris, his body had felt much cooler, he'd seemed more emotionally distant after a while. She tried to think on the brief moments when they lay cuddled in bed together after he'd began to behave differently before that night on the beach. She did recall and rather vividly that neither Doug nor Lily had heartbeats, the night they fought.

Her eyes sprang open; her lower lip trembled.

Otis nodded, sat down beside her, and took her hands in his.

"I'm really not alive am I."

"But you do exist," he told her gently. "And yet you are also not dead."

"Vampires, Andy, like any other sentient beasts, are a species of varying breeds, types, levels, differences. Each has their weakness and strong points." He studied her closely.

"Vampires like yourself Andy, do not fare well in solitude. You have a distinct craving, a need to surround yourself with the living. Vampires like you seek out avenues or careers or jobs that place them in constant contact with humans on a daily basis. Those that can afford it... will often employ a human staff for the their homes, servants... who are entrusted with knowledge. You thrive on it, human contact feeds you in much the same way blood does. Remember what you told me about that interview with the mother whose child had been murdered in her home... and the man on the subway... what you felt, bloated, drunk?"

"Yeah." Andy averted her gaze feeling somewhat ashamed of what she'd felt while that grieving mother, had spilling out her heart in the interview. She'd felt... It had been like taking a seat at a bountiful banquet...

She felt like that when facing the pack a few days ago.

"You were feeding on them." Otis confessed gently, and continued ignoring Andy's stricken expression. "You were feeding on their emotions, their energies. And it's more than that, Andy. Human contact allows you to continue the charade... the longer you surround yourself with them, the easier it is to emulate them, breathing patterns, your heart beat. Human mannerisms. Most vampires are unable to tolerate the prolonged presence of their own kind." He frowned, "but there are others, those who are incapable of mimicking these things, heart beats and breathing." He chuckled. "We call them stillborns."

Andy's nose wrinkled with distaste. "Otis that's gross."

"But it fits." He nodded. "They despise humanity, because some part of them envies it. They exist emotionally cut off from the living, and see the living only as food. They keep to themselves and only seek out their kind." He looked at her kindly. "You can't live underground forever, Andy." He shrugged. "And I don't mean because of how others treat you. You're a child of the sun. You need the sun. You need to be around humans... living creatures..."

"You're alive. The Others are alive, Otis."

"But we're not human Andy, and most of us don't know how to live among humans anymore." He squeezed her knee. "Girly you stay down there too long and one of three things will happen. You'll become like your friends. You'll become feral or you might find yourself living among the rat eaters. Sooner or later your mind will lock onto the fact that we're not human, and your body will lose its purpose it's reason to camouflage and blend. That simulated heart beat will stop and eventually, the sun will be your enemy."

Andy shuddered. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Find a way to accept what you are. Reclaim your life, Andy or a life. But it won't happen as long as you remain underground."

***

She was grateful to be left alone with her thoughts.

Her arm twinged spitefully but she was growing accustomed to tolerating pain.

Otis had gone on, leaving Andy to mull over what he'd told her after more conversation, having walked her as far back as the access to their underground home, he made the descent first, aware she'd needed space.

Otis hadn't pulled any punches. Andy grinned ruefully. She respected that. But then she'd always respected the truth, hadn't that been why she'd so doggedly pursued her journalism career? To learn the truth, to report it. Change the world with it. She chuckled bitterly. Well it had certainly changed her world.

She made the climb down slowly with one hand, cradling the broken arm to her chest. It really wasn't much of a hindrance as far climbing went. She knew she could pick up the pace but she needed the time... to get her head space in order.

Andy wasn't sure what to do with the information she'd ingested. She couldn't deny it. Didn't necessarily want to embrace it.

She knew she had to accept it. What she didn't understand was what had made her crossing different from Nate's, Lily's and Doug's.

How could she have been 'sired' she shuddered at the word, by three 'stillborns', more shuddering, and not be one herself. Was it important that she know? Some part of her felt it was very important that she find out why she was different.

But more importantly she realized, as she made the final descent, she now had choices to make.

Looking back over the past few weeks the one thing she recognized was that she hadn't really made any choices at all, or decisions, choices had been made for her, or she'd just moved along, following instincts, blindly moving along with a tide that was pushing her towards the unknown. Reacting to situations rather than thinking things through. She'd gone to face off with Lily and Doug because she'd been angry and now in retrospect she realized that it had been one of the stupidest things she had ever done.

They had murdered her and had carried on as though nothing was different, waiting to deliver her to the asshole who had turned them. Had she really thought that they'd just sit down and hash it out over a shouting match and then what she'd just leave? And now she was hiding underground because she was scared.

In all of this, she hadn't once spared a moment for rational thought. What was she going to do now? Hide underground forever? Cower in the shadows... Let them win? Let them continue to ruin her life?

Anger bubbled up within her.

Miranda and apparently other vampires went on with their daily lives as though nothing was different, pursuing their ambitions. Why must I let my let my life be over? Okay so there's the little problem of being looked for by at least two vampires.

She doubted Nate and Christian had given up, from what Otis and Estell said they were out nightly on the hunt... or had others who were.

So what was she gonna do?

Deal with it.

The only question that remained was how? Ask them to stop? She snickered.

She needed help. Andy's brow furrowed. She smacked her forehead and could have cursed her idiocy.

Wonder Woman. Jesus I'm stupid. If the woman had enlisted Otis and Estell's help, had managed to get blood to her, then obviously she wasn't working for Christian and was perhaps someone Andy could trust. The question why the woman had helped her, remained.

Did it matter? She also knew it had been a friend of Wonder Woman's who had brought her blood the last time she'd gotten her ass handed to her. Andy grinned. I really need to find something besides Wonder Woman to call her. Maybe Otis knows how to reach her.

Andy turned down the passage way and froze. She could smell him before he stepped out of the shadows.

"Shit." She muttered under her breath.

He spent so much time in werewolf form Andy wondered if he sometimes just forgot to change back.

"Janks." She spat out the name.

"Well well well. Baby vamp." His lower mandible spread in what could have been a grin, showing off the dingy yellow canines with pieces of meat trapped between them. "Don't see your shadow."

He peered around with a grin. Andy wasn't stupid. She knew the rest of pack was somewhere near, just out of sight. Janks rarely traveled alone.

"Looks like my day just got better. And your's just got a helluva lot worse." He grinned at her broken arm. "Well, someone got to you first." He chuckled. "But no matter. I don't really mind sloppy seconds."

She'd be surrounded soon enough. Probably beaten again. But this time, she'd make sure it was worth it.

"So what do you...."

"You know what?" She cut him off.

Andy straightened, rolled the kinks from her neck as she felt the tingly sensation of her eyes illuminating allowing her to see him as clearly as though they were standing under sunlight. Her gums itched and stung as her fangs pushed themselves through. She met his sickly yellow eyes with a glare.

"You talk too much." Her nails lengthened. "Someone should really shut you up."

His nostrils flared immediately with fury.

He swiped at her with sharp claws. Andy danced out of the way and kicked out catching him in the side.

If there was one thing she was grateful to Nate for. It was for demanding, back when they'd truly been happy, that she take self-defense classes.

Janks slammed with his left shoulder into the wall. Andy struck out before he could turn around slicing her nails down his back, through the thick fur and ripping away skin. He wailed and spun around with growl charging at her with fury.

Andy leaped and using his stooped posture to her advantage, she landed on his back and pushed off. Her landing was ungraceful, stumbling slightly her broken arm slammed into the wall. But she bit a scream and spun around as Janks dove for her again. She pushed off the wall meeting his charge and last minute ducked her head, slamming it into his gut...

She jammed her unbroken arm upward and slammed her strong nails and fingers into his gut and then then quickly twisted away. Kicking out she smashed her foot into the outside of his left knee, grinning at the audible snap as his leg crumbled. He slumped to one knee, glared up at her... breathing hot and heavy with rage.

"Get her!" he snarled.

Disadvantaged with her left arm, she still felt a self-satisfyingly smirk playing on her lips when she managed to down several members of his pack. And it was still there when they finally gained the advantage.

Blood dripped from her head to torso. There was blood on her tongue that was not her own. Her arms were pinned out at hers side exposing her torso. Her broken arm screaming from the bruising grip holding it. The others slowly dragged themselves from the floor. Some didn't get up at all and Andy was able to see the necks twisted at odd angles the blood flowing from wounds in throats she'd ripped out.

It frightened her that she didn't at all feel bad.

Janks hobbled over to her.

Andy had to lift her gaze to meet his as he towered over her.

"Come a little closer, Janks," She whispered sweetly. "I can't reach your throat from here." A punch in gut winded her ;she grunted but didn't scream. Damn it. There goes the ribs again.

Janks laughed.

Andy lifted her head and chuckled, his laughter fading with confusion. "You still smell like food," Andy told him.

"You're gonna beg me for mercy," Janks threatened. He raised his massive arm. Andy braced herself for it: met his sneer with defiance.

"Let her go."

A voice spoke from behind him, low calm. Janks froze.

"Let her go."

"What?' He spun around. Andy raised her bleeding head and squinting out of her good eye as Raja approached.

"You've had your fun—now let her go."

"What she to you?"

"She's Estell and Otis's friend, Janks. Sooner or later they're going to get tired of this shit."

"You think I'm scared of a bunch of ancient has beens?" the werewolf scoffed.

"Maybe not." Raja took something from her pocket and tossed it in the air. Janks caught it, looked it over and gave Raja a nod. "But even you can at least respect what they used to be."

He turned his glare from Raja to Andy.

"Tonight." He spat out. He looked at his pack. "Let the sorry piece of shit go."

Andy dropped to the floor, bracing herself from crumbling over with her the hand of her good arm, as her knees supported her. But Raja was there easing her to her feet, holding her up.

Janks sniffed with disgust. "Being on her side, ain't doing you no favors down here, Raj."

Raja laughed. "You should know better by now, Janks. The only side I'm on is mine." She gripped Andy's waist. "Come on Prada-girl."

She paused long enough to pick up the brown bag she'd laid aside. Raja gave the lead wolf one last glance and then helped the vamp down the tunnel.

"Damn girl, wished I'd have caught the show." Raja chuckled. "Looks like you put the smack down on his posse."

"Yeah," And wheezed. "For a little while." She trembled, that inner predator so close to the fore. And Raja's throat was so close. Andy could smell the blood pumping through the woman's veins, felt the heat of that body pressed against her. She squeezed her eyes shut against the ravening hunger burning through her.

"You got it in you to win, know." Raja spoke. "But with that shit you keep gulping down... you're gonna keep coming in second. And down here that eventually means dead."

"You shouldn't..." Andy began as the woman helped her onto the pallet. "You shouldn't interfere. They'll turn on you."

"My decisions are my own." Raja shrugged. She fumbled around for a candle and found it. Lighting it, she grimace. "Jeez they made a mess of your face. And the rest of you." She looked at the brown bag and frowned. "Hope I gotta enough."

"Enough what?"

"Your drink of choice." Raja tore the paper away, "figured you'd need it after that swan dive." And set the container of Butcher's Blend on the floor near the pallet. "I'll need to clean your wounds."

"Why are you helping me?" Andy asked roughly. "What is it you want?"

Raja stared at her for a moment, brow knitted in a quizzical expression. 

"I don't know yet."

She kicked off her shoes and then began removing her shirt. At Andy's look, the woman chuckled.

"I hate blood on my clothes." The shirt dropped to the floor and good eye grew large. She swallowed as she watched the sway of the woman's breasts. Raja dropped to her knees and straddled the vampire. She began cutting away the bloodied clothes.

Andy grunted with discomfort in spite of the effort Raja made to be gentle.

"Drink," she held the container Andy's lips and watched as the vessel was quickly drained. "You know one of these days you should try the real thing. Guaranteed to really get your heart thumping."

"I don't have a real heartbeat." Raja looked at her, her eyes shadowed for a moment.

"Well that's alright, there's a lot humans I know that don't have a real heart."

Leaning forward her braids spilled around her face like a beaded curtain.

"Some shape-shifting beings have blood clotting agents and healing properties in their saliva," Raja explained, "slows down blood loss. Helps open wounds heal quicker." Her lips quirked into a smug grin, "You're lucky. I happen to be one of them."

"Yay me," Andy rolled her eyes. "You always this arrogant?"

"Can't afford not be." She gently turned Andy's head to the side and grinned. "Don't worry I promise to enjoy it."

Andy tensed.

"It won't hurt." Raja whispered soothingly. "I'm quite the aphrodisiac."

Once the vampire slept, Raja stood and threw her shirt and shoes back on. She studied the sleeper, her own expression quizzical again.

It had only taken Raja that one initial run-in to realize that Estel and Otis hadn't been blowing smoke up her ass about their little orphan Vampire. The girl was something special. Raja could remember only one other who could cow her with a look. Her lips thinned into a bitter line. It was one of many memories she wish she could purge.

"They're afraid of you." She whispered to the vamp, pacing back and forth circling the pallet studying the sleeper from every angle. "The packs. The alphas. They're all afraid of you. That's why they keep coming at you. That's why they'll keep coming."

She eyed the injuries, the mangled side of the woman's face. She glanced at the empty container of Butcher's Blend and turned her lips up with disgust.

"Fuck this." She sliced open her wrist with a small dagger. "You can bitch at me in the morning."

She dropped to her knees and cradled the vamps head in one hand and held the bleeding wound to the split lips. Raja smiled as Andy's instincts took over. The vampire mewled softly in her sleep, drinking from the wound as Raja held her cradled like a child against her.

"We've shared blood, Prada-girl."

She lifted her head and stared at the wall aware of the repercussion of what she was doing. While the sleeping vampire drinking her fill, had no idea of how much her life was about to change.

Raja lowered the sleeping vamp back onto the pallet, her lips pursing into a smile. "I'll be back."

She darted out of the woman's hovel and made her way through the tunnels. Sniffing out her quarry she entered the grimy lair.

"Well if it isn't the Kitten." Janks stood, now in human form, two wooden splints bracing his left leg. His matted blonde hair fell in thick dreads to the sides of his gaunt, dirtied face. His crooked teeth, darkened with decay, bared in a nasty grin made her stomach clench with distaste. "Tired already of playing shadow?"

Raja ignored the jibe. Instead she took a deep breath. Diplomacy was in order.

"Look, Janks," she met his yellow stained hazel eyes, "do me a favor man. You and the packies," Raja's gaze swept the room including the others in her request. "Lay off Prada-girl."

"What?"

"I'm asking you to quit giving her shit."

"Oh." Janks laughed. "Why the hell should I do that?"

"I'm just saying, give the woman a chance, right now she ain't got it no better than the rest of us."

"You telling me what to do, Raja?" He snarled. Puffed out his chest.

"I know you ain't all up in my face, Janks." Raja's green eyes widened; her pupils narrowed and elongated until they were elliptic.

"I'm in your face little puss, cause you stepping up in my lair and giving me the what for."

"You wanna talk shit," Raja eyed him casually "cause I know I can back mine up."

"You rolling on us Raja? Is that it? For some worthless piece of vamp trash. Maybe we'll show you how it is?"

Raja tensed as the rest of the pack began moving in.

"Don't you fucking forget who's really meeting the demands with supplies around here." Raja snarled the reminder. A feral hiss escaped her lips. "Ya'll gonna jump in on this?" She stared down the others in the pack. "Or you gonna back the fuck off and let Janks here deal like a real alpha dog." She eyed the other members of the pack, watching them as they slowly back down.

Janks stared at her and then others, his confidence slipping.

"You claiming her?" Janks taunted. "That what got your twat all knotted up?"

"Shut your mouth, Janks." Raja warned.

"But that's not the way it goes. Does it, sweet Puss?"

"I said shut up."

"Been giving it up to the bleeders for years," he sniffed at her with disgust, "figures you'd finally find a fang-face that makes your inner kitty purr, eh?"

Raja moved so quickly the others barely registered what had happened until his body hit the floor. Her hands shot out, sank into Janks' his chest, retreated with his still beating heart. He stared at her, mouth gaping, no sound escaping. Raja stared back, jaw muscles twitching. Bringing the heart to her mouth she bit into it puncturing the organ with sharp teeth and sucking the chambers dry.

Janks fell to the floor eyes wide and sightless.

Raja stepped back, brought the organ from her lips and licked them. Tilting her head, eyes narrowed with challenged, she glared at the remainder of the the pack.

"Feast freely," she whispered, dropping the shriveled heart to the floor.

The mixed pack bounded forward after only a moment's hesitance, fell upon Janks' body like a pack of rabid dogs. They tore into the cooling corpse, picking the bones clean.

Raja waited, held still as the pack members approached, crawling towards her on hands and knees to lick the blood from her fingers, chin and the sides of her mouth. Once she'd had enough, to convey the intended message, she shoved them a way.

"Spread the word. Prada-girl is off limits." Raja arched a brow. "Anyone want to challenge that, will get the same as Janks."

"You claiming the baby vamp?" One of the pack members spoke up, snidely. Raja turned to the speaker in question, eying the young werefox steadily, taking in the the slanted green eyes and red hair sparkling from glitter powder.

"That's not how it works, Twinkle." Raja reminded. "You know better than that."

"Uhmmm..." Twinkle nodded tilted her head left and right. "I know... we all know. Just like Janks said. You don't claim the vamp. The vamp claims you."

"She's ain't got it in her." Another of the pack argued.

"Oh yeah," Raja spoke softly. "This one's got it in her. This one's got roar." She smiled.

"Weak," he challenged.

Raja balled her hands into fists. And released a feral hiss. The particular pack member flinched.

"Funny you, you say she's weak. Yet you haven't broken her yet and it ain't from lack of trying. I heard she gave your shit back to you other day. And tonight she took out three of you, juiced on nothing more than Butcher's Blend. Janks couldn't even scratch her without crying for help." Raja shook her head. "Nah, ain't no weak vamp blood running in Prada-girl's vein... she's got some Ancient in her." Raja grinned. "I'll swear by it or I'll give old Janks here..." she kicked a skeletal foot with the toe of her boot, "... A blow job."

Laughter filled the large chamber.

"It don't change that she aint one of us, Raj."

"Don't matter. I took down the alpha. And I'll beat down every single challenge sprung my way." Raja rolled the kinks from her neck and cracked her knuckles. "Your asses are mine now..." Her voice lowered to a near deadly whisper, "and I'm hers." She laughed. "And what's mine is Prada-girl's."

She watched them ingest this news. "I'd think really hard before cornering her again, if I were you."

"What you expecting to get out of this?" Twinkled asked curiously.

"A free ticket." Raja laughed as she headed back out into the tunnel, "And a tailcoat ride. Everything I should've had and was taken from me." Her eyes narrowed, grew hard. "Spread the word."

Raja slipped back into Andy's hovel and eased out of her clothes. She checked the wounds noticing her blood was already making a difference. Easing herself down beside the vampire, she was at once surprised by the lack of coolness to Andy's skin and yet not surprised at all.

The vamp mumbled, instinctively reached out and drew Raja close. Raja stiffened, closing her eyes sharply at the unfamiliar intimacy and then slowly relaxed as the vampire's arms tightened around her.

"You smell of death." Andy murmured absently, inhaling deeply in her sleep.

"You are death." Raja sighed and snuggled in.

"Where were you?"

"Tending my mistress's business."

"K."

"Sleep Prada-girl. I'll guard your back."


***

Andy was livid the following morning.

"What the hell gave you the right?" She paced, glaring at the woman who'd come to her rescue. "You had no right."

"So I should have just let you suffer?" Raja snapped back. "You're so noble."

"It should have been my choice." Andy paused in her pacing to glare holes into her companion. "Everyone's making choices for me and I'm fucking sick of it."

"Maybe it's because the choices you're making are stupid."

Andy whipped around, before censoring her response her hand was at Raja throat, and the woman's feet were dangling above the ground.

"You. Don't. Make..." Andy froze eyes widening. "Oh god, I'm sorry."

She eased the woman to her feet and stepped back as Raja dropped to her knees coughing and clutching at her throat.

"Shit!" Andy hissed and grabbed a bottled water. Uncapping it, she knelt down beside the woman and pressed a hand to her back. Raja tensed as though she would jerk away and then stilled relaxing into the touch, wheezing while drawing breath into her lungs. Andy held the bottle to her lips and allowed the woman to sip slowly.

Raja pulled away and leaned back against the wall.

"What are gonna do Prada-girl—live the rest of your existence in denial? You needed more blood. And you don't need to be poisoning your system with dead shit from a butcher. You're not gonna be down here forever and we both know it."

Andy recapped the bottle and looked away.

"And I figure whatever troubles you got waiting for you up there, must be some major shit if you're willing to put up with the packies down here to avoid it. But sooner or later, Prada-girl, you're gonna want your own back. And to get that, you have to learn to be what you are."

"I killed three people last night."

"You think they didn't want to kill you? You think it's something you should hand over to the law?" Raja smiled. "I got news for you, in our world human laws don't apply. We are our own law." Raja climbed to her feet. "You're strong Prada-girl. But you're not strong enough, not yet. And you never will be if you don't let go. Blood is life, Andy Sachs. That's just the way it is."

Raja headed out the hovel. "Think about it."

Andy slumped she watched the woman leave, the fire fueling her anger burning out. She'd fucked up. It didn't take a lot of deliberation to realize that. She'd hurt Raja's feelings. The woman hadn't said it, yet somehow Andy felt it. She thought of going after the woman but remembered another pressing matter to attend.

She'd have to deal with Raja later.

Andy sought out and found Otis easily enough.

"What's up, baby girl." He looked her over. "I hear you ran into some trouble."

Andy grinned no more than usual.

"You don't look none too bad for it." His brow furrowed as he stared at her arm. The one that should have been broken. He met her gaze, expression clearing, no questions, just acceptance. Andy relaxed.

"I need to meet with Wonder Woman."

Otis looked at her hard, surprise evident in his eyes.

"Alright." She followed him to the surface. They stood out sight of the windows within the shadowy corners of an abandoned building.

Andy was surprised when Otis removed a cell phone from his pocket and began to dial. He held it out to her as the line began to ring.

"Hello." Andy listened to the greeting, again trying to place where she knew that voice from. "Hello."

"Wonder Woman?" Taking a deep breath Andy spoke. "We need to meet."

Stunned silence followed.

And then a hesitant, "Andy?"

"Yeah. Can we meet?"

"May I get back to you? Soon I promise."

"Yeah. Sure." Andy handed the phone back to Otis.

"What's going on, Andy?" he studied her quizzically.

"I'm reclaiming my life."

---

Serena wasted little time, hurrying to Miranda's office, rushing past Emily who eyed her oddly.

"There had better ..."

"She contacted me."

Miranda clamped her mouth shut. Her heart giving a start.

"She doesn't know who I am yet, but she's expressed a desire to meet."

"Well..."

"She sounds different."

Miranda's brow furrowed. "How?"

"Just... different."

"I see." Miranda spun her chair around to face the window. "Stall her if you can."

Miranda stiffened, nose wrinkling with displeasure. She swiveled her chair around to find Emily in the doorway.

Frowning Serena sniffed and looked over her shoulder.

"Vinegar?" Miranda glared at her first assistant.

"Salad." Emily forced a smile.

"And you felt obliged to use a whole bottle?"

"I--it burns fat."

Serena's brow furrowed as she followed the woman with her eyes. Emily placed small stack of notes on the desk.

"I didn't ask for these." Miranda held the girl with a laser glare.

"No. They're ready for the run-through. S-so I thought I'd bring them is since I was on my way in to inform you."

"Very well. Send them. And send in the other Emily."

Nodding Emily hurried out the room. Both Miranda and Serena sharing a puzzled look before the others filed in with a model and the racks of clothes in tow. The new Emily entered with pad and pen, wrinkling her nose, she absently questioned, "Vinegar?"

Serena shrugged. "Emily says it burns fat."

"Let's get on with it." Miranda stood approaching the clothing rack. "I certainly hope there has been a vast improvement over the abysmal selections I was presented yesterday. Now what do we have ..."

***

Emily settled behind her desk hand trembling as she reached for the phone dialing the editing department. Slipping out into the hall, she lowered her voice.

"Hello Paul? Emily." She closed her eyes and crossed her fingers.

"Actually I was just wondering—I know you occasionally ate lunches with Andy Sachs. I was just wondering by chance if you'd heard from..." Emily frowned. "What? No, you imbecile. I am not trying to get you fired."

Emily opened her eyes.

"I was just... I found some of her things and I... Really. Very well." Emily hung up the phone and leaned weakly against the wall. "No," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut again, this time against the sting of tears. "No."

---

"You're right." Andy stepped into the hovel, still mildly surprised at how easily she had found it.

Raja stood swiftly to her feet, turning sharply to scowl at the intruder.

Frowning, Andy realized that she didn't just sense the woman, she could feel her. "I'm sorry. The way I reacted was way out of line."

"Whatever." Raja shrugged.

"You were right. I have been running away from what I am. Brooding and moping in my head as though if I moped and brooded long enough, everything would be right again on its own and none of this would exist." Andy took a deep breath. "I'd already decided last night that somehow I'd have to fix things, me, myself." She looked away. "The Butcher's Blend isn't enough. I tried to ignore that but..." She met Raja's gaze again. "I can't hide forever, Raja. I need your help."

Raja held her gaze steadily. "You need my blood."

***

Miranda pursed her lips as she held up one of the skirts for the shoot.

"Well I'm not impressed yet." She flung it into the arms of the nearest person. "Where's the creativity. Why is no one here ever able to think outside the box?"

She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips.

"I pay you people and insane amount of money to deliver what this magazine, what our public has come to expect in every issue. Perfection. And yet each time it's like squeezing ink from a bristle brush." She removed a shirt from the rack. "Last season." She commented with disdain. "Has no one here ever heard of the word originality?" She turned on her heels. "Janine?" She waited. "No?" She turned her gaze around the room. "Anyone? If no one here can come up with answers perhaps I should simply have you all march down to HR, hand in resignations, whilst I take to recruiting people off the street."

"Well..."

Miranda smiled, pleased.

"Yes, Nigel." She took her seat at the head of the table and waited.

***

"You have to get over this, Andy."

It didn't get any easier.

Her stomach still churned even as her mouth salivated.

"It's only blood."

Maybe it churned because her mouth salivated at just the mere mention of the word.

Because that physical response made her unable to think of it as something she needed to do to get by like taking really nasty medicine. No. Instead, her brain buzzed with expectation and like Pavlov's dog, her mouth moistened; her body shivered and shook like some back-alley junkie with a needle poised to plunge into the vein.

And her stomach rumbled as though it hadn't seen the fried side of a piece of chicken in years. And it made her sick.

"Drink, Andy." The gentle encouragement made her whimper; her slender frame shook all the more harder. Her eyes zeroed in on the strong steady pulse. Her nostrils flared at the scent of warm flesh so close, so goddamn close, she could taste it. "You know you want to."

Andy closed her glowing eyes and shuddered, looking away from the slender brown neck offered for the taking.

Her shoulder's slumped at the unmistakable sigh of disappointment.

"I'm trying." She flinched at the roughness of her voice. The loss of human inflection in her tone. She sat heavily on a crate. she'd found and had confiscated as her only piece of furniture. "It's not easy," she whispered, preferring softer decibels when her voice sounded like that of a beast who'd been taught to speak human words.

"Well it's either get used to it or die."

"Otis said I can feed on emotions ..."

"That will only sustain you for so long. It's just a supplement. There ain't no real nourishment for you. It makes you feel full but it's a false sensation of being full. Kind of like if you ate nothing but corn. You can eat and eat and eat til your belly pops, and you'd still died from starvation."

"That's ..." Andy grimaced, eyes still closed, "Not helping at all."

When she continued to look away, the young woman standing near her swore softly.

"Christ how the hell are you even still alive?" The girl snorted. "You must've drank at some time."

Andy opened her eyes and stared at the piping along a wall. "The first time, I was being murdered. The second time I was crazed and out mind and about to be raped. And the times after," she laughed bitterly, "I was unconscious."

"Listen," the compassion in Raja's voice drew Andy's attention to her companion. "I'm sorry." Andy flinched when the warm hand dropped to her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Really, not everybody takes to this kind of thing easy, you know. I get that you got a really bum deal." Raja smiled gently. "And yeah. It's sad and tragic and all that shit. But girl, you best be thankful that nobody ain't shoveling six feet of dirt over your ass." She shrugged. "You still here. And as long as you're here, things can get better. You ain't stupid, Andy. It ain't like this is the end for you." She rolled her eyes. "But wake up to the truth because in this world... you're either the food, or you're not." She removed her hand.

"And which are you?" Andy asked. She hadn't meant it come out as derisive as it had. But Raja seemed un-bothered by Andy's snipping tone. "Food or..." Raja was one of the Others, exactly what, Andy still had no clue.

"Okay," Raja chuckled. "Sometimes you can be both."

"And you like it?" Andy asked her. "Getting munched on, your blood sucked."

"Oh yeah," Raja raised a hand to her neck and rubbed the area slowly in circles with a single finger. The gesture was so suggestive it made Andy's abdomen clenched. "It feels real good." She winked, "When it's done right."

"I can't ..." Andy made a face. "I don't see how that's possible." But Andy did know. She thought of those dreams and felt her thigh muscles clench.

Raja laughed. "You really need to crawl out of your vanilla bubble, Prada-girl." Raja rolled her eyes. "It ain't even... gonna mesh with your new life."

Raja moved to stand in front of Andy.

"It's just like sex, Andy." Her voice had taken on low sultry burr. She knelt down and wiggled between Andy thighs, when meeting no resistance.

Andy merely stared at her, body temperature rising.

"Sometimes it's soft, gentle and slow," Raja placed her hands to Andy's hips slowly raising them until they swept up the tapered waist, skirting the curves of Andy's breasts. "Sometimes it's fast and hard, and animal-like."

Their gazes locked. Andy stared into dark green pools, her breathing coming faster, as Raja moved in close enough that their bodies touched. Andy shivered, her stomach quivering.

"But when you're doing it right." Sure fingers found their way to the back of Andy's head. Burying themselves in Andy's hair, "It always feel good." She coaxed Andy's head forward until Andy's breath bounced off the smooth skin of the slender neck to caress her own face.

Andy swallowed. "What if I, what if I take to much?"

Raja's chuckle made her abdomen clench again. "I ain't weak, Prada-girl. Trust me. I'd kill you before it got that far."

Andy swallowed, this time nervously. "Good to know." And then fingernails were dancing lightly over her cheek.

"It can make you feel so good, Andy."

Andy moaned. Her jaw trembled, her gums burned as the canines extended.

"That's it, Prada-girl." The smooth cheek caressed her arm, the neck moved closer until soft flesh brushed Andy's lips. "Closest thing to heaven, you'll ever know, Baby vamp, so drink up."

She cradled Andy's head and pulled her closer. Andy moaned again, every cell in her being begging her to do it. She opened her mouth fastened her lips to the beating pulse.

Raja arched closer, the softness of her breasts pushing deliciously against Andy's nipples.

The vampire whimpered at the overwhelming sensation as she suckled on the flesh first, not yet breaking the skin. Raja let out a soft gasp and then sighed her pleasure.

Andy groaned deep in her throat at the sound and then bit down.

---

"And further more ..." Miranda's eyes widened as the words died on her tongue.

She stood, abruptly barely avoiding bumping the table with her thighs. Her chair scraping the floor behind her.

Miranda froze, trapping a feral moan in her throat.

Oh dear god. Heat washed over her with such fierce ferocity, she feared it would burn her up.

Oh! Her nipples tingled forming into hard peaks, suddenly super sensitive against the lace of her bra.

She lost sight of her surroundings, assaulted by sights and sounds, and unfamiliar faces. Her inner being felt the jolt as violent images ripped through her mind at near lightening speed. A small grungy apartment ... a woman and man, she vaguely recognized the faces... Doug, Lily. A fight for survival ... running, Wonder Woman... grief, rage, sorrow. The images burned themselves into her brain. Climbing forever down into vast darkness ... fear ... and then Oh. The sweet banquet of dove soft flesh against her tongue under her teeth.

Miranda felt a powerful throb between her thighs. Her clit pulsed with maddening intensity, moisture trickled from her sex basting her inner thighs.

Oh dear god.

Vaguely as though from a long tunnel, she could discern muted voices calling her. She could not have answered them if her mind depended on it. It took everything she had to stay upright. To not cry out against the vicious assault of pleasure.

She clutched at the edge of the desk, and fought to keep her eyes from fluttering close as her breathing sped. The sweet and salty, tangy flavor of blood coated her taste buds, like a heady elixir.

Oh. My. God.

She shuddered. Her grip so hard, the edge of the desk was biting into her fingers.

Pleasure tingles rushed through her like brush fire.

Oh no. She was going to... going to. Oh hell no. No. Not here.

Miranda, straightened aware that a room full of people sat watching her with wide and shocked eyes. She locked eyes with Serena who stared at her genuine concern, tensed to spring forward. Miranda gave a subtle shake of her head.

Her voice was barely steady. "I want the skirts from Anne Kleins, used in tomorrow's shoots. Those shoes from Marc Jacobs are unsuitable. Their entirely too clunky. I've no idea where their creativity went this season, but we'll not be encouraging that insanity." She swallowed, feeling light-headed and far too giddy at the moment. "Nigel," she gathered her things and glanced in his direction long enough to ensure she had his attention, "Find a suitable substitute." She swallowed harder. "That's all."

Miranda stalked from the room, her wits barely gathered about her, as her rubbery legs carried her down the hall and to the elevator. She passed her office up for her executive restroom and promptly leaned back against the door.

Climax roared through her, bulldozing through her system with a force that left her breathless. For several moments her heart stopped and then suddenly raged back to life with renewed vigor. She closed her eyes, and covered them with her right hand which trembled badly.

"My god, what the hell was that?" Her clothes felt too tight, her skin... she felt like she might break through it. Every part of her felt as though it were alive and on fire. She hadn't felt that way... not since her first... she gasped.

Andrea. Andrea.

Miranda eyes widened.

That was not Butcher's Blend. Her hand fell at her side as shock overwhelmed all other sensations. She's fed. Miranda shook her head, confused. She stumbled to the sink and stared at her flushed face, and glassy eyes. And I felt it.

She hadn't considered this. The probability of such a thing hadn't even entered the equation. That they were linked. Yes. But she was always careful to only open that door during dreaming. Miranda brows furrowed. So why... why had she felt this? She had never considered...

It's not possible. Only a sire can feel...

She splashed cold water on her face, patted it dry with a paper towel and then fixed her make up.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was astonished at the renewed glow of her skin. She even felt ...

Her lips twitched in danger of forming a smile.

Who the hell did she drink? My god, whoever it is ... was should come with a warning label.

---

"Daughter of the sun."

Yupanqui's eyes sprang open.

"And once again, not dragon's breath but gryphon's roar, disrupts an Ancient's sleep."

The Lord sat up with a hard shudder racking his body.

"Could it be, that what I meant and what fate intends, diverged long ago and now converge in a destiny willed upon me by my forebears. Human kind shall tremble again. Their technologies turned upon them. Their blood spouting like fountains of water into river beds. And the changeling beasts crushed under heel, collared and leashed, their blood and meat, my sacrament. Am I so great my father and mothers who began the blood long before me, that I lord among lords, a king's faithful servant am now blessed with a one who bares the mark of that king himself."

He pressed his hand to his breast.

"To my bosom, little Gryphon cub." He whispered, paper thin eyelids fluttering as though he were enraptured. Yupanqui licked at his dry lips. "I have searched millenniums for such a one as you."

Strong of body. Strong of mind. Able to endure. The future, no longer a mere dream, is the present. The world suddenly accessible... The sun, no longer an unattainable fantasy.

"But are you worthy?"

In days to come the true tests would reveal, the metal of Miranda's cub. My Miranda.

"And this my hollow prison, belly of the earth," he looked around at barren walls, lowering himself again upon his bed of rest, "I may yet be free of you."

---

Whoa!

Andy's body was on fire, and her breaths were coming in short pants. Andy leaned heavily into the body supporting her or she'd have fallen off her crate. She shook her head and groaned.

For a moment the strong scent of jasmine and neroli surrounded her, a flash of white hair and blue eyes filled her mind.

She sucked in sharp breath.

Andy swayed dizzily allowing herself to be lowered to her pallet on the floor. The room was spinning. She felt giddy and drunk. And she knew her face was frozen in dopey grin.

"Told you, I'd rock your world." A soft chuckle warmed her, and she sighed.

Raja settled down beside her, arm draped over Andy's waist holding her close.

"Yeah," Andy whispered coarsely, "guess you did."

"You'll get use to it." Raja hugged her close, seeming as intoxicated as Andy. "Kitten blood. It's pretty potent."

Andy relaxed back into the embrace, grateful once the room stopped twirling. "You um do this a lot."

She felt the woman shrugged. "I trade for things. Make a little money, off some of the Vamp flunkies." She was silent for awhile. "You do what you have to get by."

"Do you like ..."

"Selling myself." The voice was still soft but bitter. "Get real, Prada-girl. I like the bite. Same way people like sex but don't nobody like selling themselves." She sighed.

Andy turned on her side, facing Raja. She propped herself up on her elbow once she felt steady enough. "Why are you down here?"

"Where else am I going to go?" Raja looked away. She sighed.

Andy frowned and shook her head.

"Umh, thanks."

"My pleasure." Raja leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Flustered Andy watched the woman leave, curious, intrigued and a little unsettled by what had just happened. Ugh... she sighed and flopped back on her pallet. "Cause a little more confusion is just what I need in my life." She shook her head and sighed.

But hey, at least I don't feel like throwing up. Andy's brow creased. And why am I not so sure that's a good thing. Andy closed her eyes.

She was restless and energy still sang through her veins but was not surprised to find her eyes growing heavy and sleep claiming her.

She was jarred awake by a touch on her shoulder from behind.

"Hey," a voice spoke near her ear. "You okay?" Andy was grateful, squeezing Raja's hand before wiping her wet cheeks.

"Yeah," Andy nodded. Blinking back at the tears, she was uncertain of the dream from which she'd just awakened, had no memory of it, which was odd, only that it had broken her heart and terrified her.

"M'kay." Raja, hands slipped around Andy's waist and she snuggled up closely. "Go back to sleep. It's late." Andy lie quietly listening to the heartbeat she felt vibrating against her back. Wondering how the woman had come in without her noticing, and how long she'd been there. She felt comforted by the closeness but a little uncomfortable by it as well... Her heart stopped and sped when she heard the contented sigh from behind her, and the woman nuzzling her hair. "Go to sleep, Andy." The sleep heavy voice burred in her ear. "Sleep."

Andy shivered.

She thought sleep was probably a good idea.

---

Later that night having returned from the lair, Miranda settled her abused body behind her desk.

Stubbornly she reached for the Book though her mind lacked the will to traverse the maze of what needed correcting and what needed complete annihilation. She leaned toward the desk with pen poised.

Well he hadn't kept her all night. The thought crept up on her. His use of her body had seemed an afterthought. The vessel different, the revulsion and pain the same. She absently rubbed the ache on the side of her neck where she'd been bitten.

But in spite of her bodily discomfort her veins throbbed with exhilaration. Despite her self-warnings to take the knowledge she'd been given with caution, and to beware of the motives behind having been given that knowledge, truth pulsed through her like a drug, sending her mind spiraling with what this revelation could mean to her and to Andrea.

"She's not with you. Your little journalist. You cut her loose."

Fear had very nearly clawed its way past her throat at his words.

"There are some things she needs to learn on her own. We can teach survival skills." Miranda had shrugged. "But survival itself is a skill one must learn on one's own."

"Ever the apt pupil." He'd caressed her throat. "Though I do wonder. What else she will learn?" He looked away his expression distant. "There are moments when I can almost swear that I feel your little lamb."

"Oh?" Miranda had answered vaguely.

"Few understand what goes into a successful crossing." He tilted his head. "Childer must be chosen with caution, as must the vampire who performs the turning. There are humans who... possess certain characteristics we instinctively seek out... certain strengths, traits and disposition. It takes a vampire of enormous power to cross over such individuals and do so successfully. While there are other humans weak of will and mind who are capable of being turned by lowly fodder. They are little more than fodder themselves. I would very much like to meet this girl of yours ..."

Miranda's stomach had churned.

He'd smiled benevolently. "In ancient days superstition was the enemy and held strong the human mind and almost anything out of the ordinary was thought to be witchery. We had to hide ourselves, even those of us who tolerated the sun had to be careful. We had many expendable foot soldiers, those we cared not whether we lost to human witch hunts but still we knew we must keep our bloodline strong. Keep it growing, lest it stagnate and grow week."

Miranda was attentive.

"Did you know that there used to be a practice among our people," His fingers had dances across her skin, "So very different from the crossings now. It was much more dangerous for us to simply choose a human and then accost them for the turning or for food. We chose fodder for this... to bring us captives for feasting and then to discard the bodies to be found and laid to rest. Masking the deaths as disease or wild dog attacks. But for those we turned, well much more was involved. You see we would mark them with our protection, and then send out the weak ones... and they would find our chosen humans, drain them of blood and feed them their own. And then leave them to be buried by grieving kin."

Stiffening under his touch, Miranda had waited, sensing something very important was being revealed her.

"And then they would wait... and wait... until the chosen was ready to claw their way from the womb of the grave—a second birth. But the turning was not complete..."

"Not complete?" Miranda had felt her blood racing under skin.

"No. The hunger was there. Confusion. Fugue states. They would be brought to the Master vampire and allowed days to come to an understanding of what had happened to them and what was needed to continue surviving. They were dying again you see, slowly without that which they needed to sustain them. The blood of the fodder who'd fed them incapable of keeping them alive for long... the second death painful, cramping, dizziness... We would wait until the moment when expiration seemed imminent and then we, the Masters would feed them of our blood. Often for days or weeks depending on the strength we wished to imbue upon them. And they would arise, no former claim of fodder strong enough to withstand that of a master Vampire. We made of them our own."

Miranda had been held captive by the Yupanqui's intense gaze.

"You're instincts impress me, Lady Dragon. The imprints of your forebears run deeply in the vein."

"She's mine, then?" Miranda had whispered the question uncertainty and a spark of something unnameable roaring through her.

"Congratulations Miranda. You are with, Childe." He'd smiled. "There is no cause to fear. How could I but hearken to my bosom that which my most favored has made. I'm sure when you feel she is ready you will see that we meet. In fact I feel it imperative that we meet."

"Mine." Miranda whispered, pushing the Book and pens aside. Relieved and angry. There'd been no reason for her to allow Andrea to leave as she had. Rashness was not a attractive trait. She frowned. But why hadn't Yupanqui mentioned this earlier? She rolled her eyes. Why did he do any of the things he did?

"More than a pet."

She leaned back in her chair, eying the phone. She could send Serena after the woman. Or Roy. But would Andrea come with them willingly? Miranda snorted. She doubted that. Her girl was stubborn. Yes. My girl. In the truest sense of the word Andrea was hers.

She furrowed her brows shyly courting the idea of a willful summons. Miranda closed her eyes against the temptation. She'd hate you for it. Her conscience supplied, if she doesn't hate you once she learns about her parents, she will hate you for ...

And maybe. It was not yet time. She trusted that Yupanqui had told her the truth. But she did not trust the motive behind his revelation. But perhaps it was time, to allow Andrea some clarity. Knowledge is power after all.

Miranda lifted the phone to her ears, after dialing Serena's number.

"Contact Andrea's friend. Arrange the meeting." Miranda instructed, her subdued tone belying the anticipation coursing through her body.

"When? Where?"

"Tomorrow's Thanksgiving. During the day of course. The offices are closed and the chances of being disturbed, slim."

After the brief conversation, she mentally followed the cord of the ever growing link.

---

When Miranda appeared Andrea found they were dressed much the same. Dark black slacks, and dark shirts. Though the woman look no less beautiful.

"You are ready. Come Andrea."

***

Fall colors of every imaginings painted the sides of the roads and endless fields, beneath a canopy of trees was a surreal experience.

This dream was unlike any other.

Andy sat in the car, quietly. Until the quiet began to unnerve her.

"I didn't know you could drive. I'm surprised."

"Surprised there's something you do not know about me?—which you shouldn't be as we've not exactly been best friends. Or that I can drive?"

Andy rolled her eyes, ticked off the seconds and then the minutes of silence.

"How far can we fall?" she asked suddenly, "and still survive?"

"Feeling like ending it all so soon?" Miranda glanced at her briefly, handling the shifting of the gears and the winding road with ease. The sun was setting before them, they're sunglasses were donned.

"Forget I asked." Andy sighed and peered out the window. "Dream you isn't much better to get along with than the you in reality."

"I see." Miranda's attention was on the road. "You believe I'm difficult." Andy didn't reply. But she was startled by Miranda's sudden voice after the silence had drawn out. "Very far. Too far and it will hurt like a bitch. But you'll survive, provided your brain matter remains in your skull, your head is not detached and your heart remains in your chest."

Andy studied the editor's profile enchanted by the play of fall sunset on the immaculate features, as arresting sans make up as with. "So death by decapitation. Heart removal. Anything else?"

"Fire. Blood starvation though it's slow and brutally torturous. A favorite punishment among the elite for a misbehaving insubordinate. You'd go insane first." Andy shuddered. "And then there's the tried and true. Stake through the heart."

"We turn to dust."

"Of course we do." Miranda shrugged. "We're not human. We are not really alive. Your heart beats only because your brain tricks it into thinking you are still alive. You think its cold because, your brain observes the changes of seasons, sees and remembers how others respond and therefore your body believes that it too is cold. it's the same thine thing sweating. Weak vampires forget these things upon rising."

"So I've been told." Andy nodded but something had been in Miranda's tone of voice that had caught Andy's attention. "Just weak vampires?"

"Ancients... have no heart beats feel no changes of season and do not sweat... nether can they eat food... Some say it's age. In truth it's because so many of them lived their lives so far removed from humans, that their bodies no longer recognize the need for camouflage."

Andy found her attention riveted to the woman, as enthralled by the information as by the idea that Miranda Priestly was actually talking to her even if it was only a dream... talking to her as though she were not a subject.

"They subsisted on only blood for so long their bodies can not tolerate food. They are cool to the touch, their flesh almost translucent and they cannot walk in daylight. They cast no reflection... no one knows why that is but I suspect it also has to do with living detached from humanity. They are the truth behind the myth. They cannot be in the presence of religious icons. They have their vulnerabilities and yet they are more powerful then us all. Stronger. They are rare and their blood is potent enough that humans they turn are destined to become ancients. No matter how common."

She met Andy's wide-eyed stare for a moment longer and then turned her attention to road.

"Have you met one?"

"Yes." Miranda shuddered. Andy gathered it hadn't been a particularly pleasant meeting. "As will you."


***

Miranda parked near a forest line.

Andy frowned as they climbed from the car.

"No one will bother it. Probably won't even see it." Miranda offered. "Not many humans will travel this way at night."

She lead the way. They walked for seeming miles, but Andy found she was neither tired nor winded. Night had fallen, still early enough the streets were busy, with street vendors and musicians and homeless. Tourist visiting in the off-season.

The place was alive and Andy could feel its pulse and the salt air on her skin and on her tongue. She could feel and hear heartbeats all around her, smell flesh, clean and unwashed. It was overwhelming and yet comforting blanketing oneself in humanity.

And it all felt frighteningly real.

"Remaining among them even though we are a separate species is key to survival, blending in even when standing out among them is a gift." Miranda's hand pressed to the small of her back and Andy relaxed. "We remember to breathe when those around us are breathing. When we forget these things, we either must hide or risk discovery. Survival is everything. Blood is life, Andrea, and the hunt is supreme."

Andy felt her blood chill at those last words.

Miranda was closer now, her voice hushed in Andy's ear, making her head roar, and her heart race.

"Listen. Inhale. Feel." Miranda whispered. "Past your own false heartbeat, past the scent of your own flesh, past the borrowed blood in your veins. There is one. There is always one that beckons, unknowingly, challenging you, daring you to give chase."

Andy groaned hypnotized. She caught a scent subtle but strong, a heart beat that seemed pound stronger harder than others, felt the presence strong aggressive, the scent was male. cocksure and arrogance made it sweet. She yearned. She hungered.

Her stomach knotted, anticipation fear, exhilaration.

"You feel it."

"Yes."

"Your teeth, your gums itch and sting and it feels good."

"Yes."

"There are three methods of hunting. Cornering random prey while simply looking for opportunity. Sensing the prey as you are now. to find stalk and pounce. Or to find and lure that prey to you."

"Tonight," Miranda walked behind her, held her firmly by the back of her hair tugging firmly but not painfully until Andy's head rested on her shoulder. Her one arm around the waist, hand stroking Andy's belly until the young vampire shivered and panted. "I want you to find and stalk." Miranda lips touched her ear. "Just. Stalk. Andrea."

Andy's nostril's flared. Her body burned where Miranda was pressed against her, and the scorch of warm breath against her ear and neck left her wanting. "If you are successful, you will be rewarded."

Sharp teeth nipped her neck and Andy whined overwhelmed by the action as the sudden unexpectedness of it. Those teeth did not break the skin but she wanted them too. She wanted. She hadn't known until these dreams that she could want this so badly. A soft tongue stroked along the nipped flesh.

Andy drew in a sharp breath unable to speak. Until the those teeth nipped again.

"Please." Andy whispered.

"Don't disappoint me."

Andy groaned again and suddenly Miranda was gone. Hunger sparked through her like a plague. Hunger and want.

***

Miranda willed her pulse to slow, as she watched from a store front awning as Andrea's hunt commenced. She frowned as the ghost memory of holding the girl pressed against could still be felt along the front of her body, the quiver of flesh between her teeth, the soft pants and the scent of Andy's arousal.

Her breathing sped and she swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry. How long had it been since she'd felt anything remotely resembling this? Not with her first husband. Nor the second. Not since... she shook her head.

Eyes on the task, she warned herself and set her sights on her own prey for the night. The girl looked... beautiful and graceful as a leek panther. The subtle lift of her nose to the wind, Miranda saw in her minds eyes the pink tongue in that wide mouth caressing the gums teasing the quivering canines that long to extend.

"I want her." The want all the more potent in knowing the girl would not let her down. Miranda squeezed her eyes tight. Never had she wanted anything more, not even power. It was all the more potent knowing the girl wanted her in return, at least in dreams.

***

It was Midnight when Otis came for Andy.

She awakened with a start, blushing as Otis glanced from her to Raja without comment.

"You're expecting a call." He met Andy's gaze. She nodded. "She says tomorrow." Andy felt Raja's arm tighten around her waist. "Eleven AM. The corner of Eleven-eleven Faust Blvd. Blue Mercedes."

"Thanksgiving." Andy's brow furrowed. "I'll be there."

Otis nodded. "Just be careful Andy."

Once he left Andy sat up.

"You're the go get it girl around here, right?" She looked over her shoulder at Raja.

"Well yeah."

"Then I need a favor."

"Favor's aren't free, Andy Sachs." Raja smirked.

"Fine then I'll pay you."

"You don't know ..."

"I said I'd pay you." Andy replied sharply. Raja gave a sharp gasp and then lowered her eyes before nodding her reply. It was the second time Andy had witnessed the startling display of submission. It was an intoxicating scent on the woman. "I need some clothes. And nothing from a trash bin."

Raja smirked. "You don't ask for much do you?" Her sarcastic tone, rubbed Andy all wrong.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"Yeah," the woman swallowed. "I can do it." Her lips lifted into a smile. "I'm assuming you're not interested in anything from, K-mart or Old Navy?"

Andy rolled her eyes. "Not really."

"Hot date?"

"Answers to questions I need."

Raja grinned. "Right." She chuckled.

"Soon, like before Sunrise."

"Okay." Raja answered slowly. "But I expect payment before hand."

"What do you want?"

"To go with you."

"No." Andy shook her head. She had no idea what she'd be walking into.

"The way I see it, you're my ticket out of here. Watching your six, is to my benefit."

"I don't think I'm in danger from this person. They've helped me before. But..."

"Maybe not." Raja nodded, "But there's still the trip from here to Faust. I can get you there quicker, safer. Arrange an area where you can clean up," she grinned at Andy's piqued interest. "I mean otherwise what's the point of putting on fancy duds, right?"

"Right." Andy stared at her. "Why?"

"Because, it's my job now as well as my choice." Raja lifted her right hand and brushed her knuckles across Andy's cheek. "What were you dreaming about, when I first came back, that made you cry?"

Andy frowned, her brow furrowing into a deep line.

"I don't remember."

Raja nodded. Her fingers caressing the smooth planes of Andy's face. She inhaled the lingering scent of arousal. And the faint hint of the blood of another teased her from the vamp's lips. Like a ghost, the scent smelled of a memory clinging to young vamp.

"And the second dream?"

Her hand lowered to open collar of Andy's shirt, fingertips grazing the swell of a full breast, a light scattering of freckles making her wonder if the woman had once been milk pale in life, rather than sun-kissed dark as she was now.

Andy shuddered. Memories of Miranda's touch scorching her skin, soft breath breathing across her like dragon's flame. She grabbed Raja's hand trapped it within her own, her pupil's burning with illumination. Lifting the fingers to her lips Andy kissed them gently.

"I dreamed of hunting." She held the woman's gaze, pounced without warning, pinning Raja beneath her. "It made me very thirsty."

Raja sucked in a sharp breath.

"Then who I am to deny, my master, her rights?"

Andy tilted her head, eyes narrowing quizzically. "What are you?"

"Yours," Raja whispered. "Now."

She arched her neck, drawing Andy's attention to the offering of smooth pecan flesh and the pulsing of blood flowing underneath it. Her cry of exaltation bounced off the stone walls, body arching into the one above hers. She clutched Andy to her tight.

"Blood is life. And the hunt is supreme."

Andy withdrew her fangs, cleaning the wound before meeting Raja's gaze again. "So I've been told."

Raja chuckled. "I'll go make preparations."

Between Raja and the dreams of Miranda which Andy was becoming less and less certain were simple dreams, she thought she might soon explode.

Andy watched Raja leave and then flopped over onto her side, breathing heavily.

"Dear god. What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

---

Nate glared at the blubbering mess of flesh, bound on the stained mattress.

He sat propped on the window seal, Christian's fingers combed through his hair, Nate resting partially against his sire's chest.

"She doesn't know anything." He cut his eyes away from the blind folded woman. "She hasn't found out anything." His voice trembled with anger.

"Patience," Christian whispered. "I'm sure you can offer her incentive to try harder."

Nate grinned leaned back tilting his head up. Christian captured his lips in a devouring kiss, broad hands snaked down Nate's bare chest, and torso to clasp the hard throbbing flesh between his thighs.

"Yeah," he murmured moments later, "I can."

Laughing, Christian whispered huskily, "I like watching you work."

"Then you're going to love this," Nate grinned, stood and began approaching the sobbing woman. "Emily," he smiled. "Em." Nate settled down beside her stroking his hand up her side.

"No." the woman tensed. But bound as she was, Emily was going nowhere. "Please."

"I'm beginning to think you don't really want to help me at all."

"No!" Emily whimpered frantically, "I do. Please I do."

"I wish I could believe that." Nate smiled. "But you just keep disappointing me."

"I'll try harder. Please. I'll try harder."

"Well then," Nate straddled her torso, "Let me give you an example of what'll happen if you don't."

Christian stood in the center of the dingy room, drinking in the sounds of pain and fear.

They may not find Andy at all this way but he wouldn't complain.

Another of Miranda's things in his grasp. Something they could break and toss at the maven's feet.