The mansion was strangely quiet. Jenkins had told me earlier that only the humans were awake during the day. I responded with didn't he mean the members of this group who were playing human? As if guessing my words were a means to disguise my plans, he reminded me that the building was completely fortified, no escape was possible, and that in fact, Julius had given orders that I was to be killed if I attempted to escape. Other than that, I was free to do as I wanted, within the confines of my room.

Lying on the four-poster bed, my breath came quickly and shallowly. I was so tired, so very tired. I hadn't slept since my forced arrival, but was afraid to shut my eyes even for a second. And now the whole day had passed, minute by torturous minute. From the window, I watched the setting sun, wondering many things. How did they get all these people to play along in this elaborate hoax? Who had scripted all that extraordinary Bible genealogy? Who were these people? Last night's session with Julius had revealed precious little useful information, just a reinforcement of the depth of his insanity. But mostly, and sadly, I wondered what was to become of me. The sorry fact was that it was unlikely anyone was looking for me. There was no one in my life at all who might miss me. Even the staff at Harrolds' thought I had taken a sudden vacation to Wyoming, and Tucker... my heart wrenched and I knew that I would have to put those thoughts aside for now. My survival depended on it. He'd understand, hell, he'd encourage it. I had to focus on how to escape.

Jenkins. How convincing he was as the attentive, yet serene butler. The right age, the right looks, the right manner; he could have been off a sitcom. Despite his role in my captivity, I had the sense that on some level, I could trust Jenkins more than the others.

He'd attended me all day as everyone else slept. Or hid. And although we'd talked only a little, a bond seemed to be developing.

Now, as night fell, he had given me his solemn promise that if I chose to take a bath, I would not, under any circumstances, be disturbed. Instinctively, I had believed him and so I sat in the clawfoot tub, nearly overflowing and the steam rich with the scent of essential oils, lavender and rose. I placed candles around the edge of the porcelain, like votive candles in a church. As I lit each one, I said a silent prayer for Tucker. Lit by the sadness, nothing could penetrate the darkness inside me.

Steam collected on the glass surfaces around the room and yet, the water felt merely tepid. I scrubbed furiously at my skin, my hair, every inch of my body. I felt dirty, poisoned from the inside. I visualized it oozing silently and invisibly through my bloodstream, into my flesh, collecting in a thin veil that covered my skin. The image seemed to make me shudder as I stood.

Why was I cold, so cold?

When I returned to the bedchamber, a thick towel wrapped around me, I spoke to Jenkins, who waited quietly to do my bidding. "Jenkins, turn up the heat, or stoke the fire. Do whatever it is you do, but make it warm in here."

"Madam, I will of course do as you request, but it won't help. Your blood is already responding to the presence of Julius."

I ignored that idiotic and surely scripted line. "You're human, right?"

"Yes, madam."

"Why do you work for these people, I mean, Vampires?"

"My father, and his father before him, as well as his father, have served in this position. It has been a good life and not one that I have ever had any reason to question."

"You don't question the fact that I am being held here against my will? That they kill people? Ruin lives?"

His back stiffened. "There are certain aspects which I find distasteful."

"This is a pretty complex game you people play."

"It is no game, madam. No game at all."

I sat on the edge of the bed, crossed my legs. "You don't really believe that they are Vampires?"

"They are."

"They don't have fangs."

He turned to look at me. "Unlike the cinematic version of the undead, Vampires have no need for fangs. Their strength is such that natural teeth suffice. Or knives, if the circumstances call for such action."

He was good. Smooth. "Does a stake do them in?"

He built the fire up to a roaring pyre and I wondered how he could look so cool under those layers of stiff clothes. "Quite handily. As does sunshine. I'm sure you will learn about that soon enough."

"Don't count on it. What about garlic?"

"Miss Elita eats it raw. Claims it is good for her skin."

"Holy water? Crucifixes?"

"Regrettably, a decline in religious beliefs has led to their, how should I say retirement."

Even though it was ridiculous, I was almost enjoying our conversation and stretched back onto the pillows. "I saw Julius sucking back booze like water, but what about regular food? Do they need anything besides blood?"

"May I sit?"

"Of course." I motioned at a chair and he pulled it around to face me.

"They do not require food, as Adamites do. But they enjoy it."

"I see. And sex? I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but the prospect of eternity without it seems a little dim."

He cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow. "Rest assured, the life of the undead revolves around two things, blood and sensual pleasure."

"Will it be more pleasurable?"

"Really madam, these are questions better suited for Miss Elita. I know nothing of their private lives."

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

He returned to the fireplace to stoke the logs, then moved around the room pretending to tidy, dust, and rearrange. His answers were smooth but unsatisfying. He knew his lines too well. I supposed they had him here in my luxurious prison just to keep an eye on me. What did they think I'd do? Kill myself. That was a hoot, kill myself before I became undead.

"They will come for you shortly" he said as he pulled a gown from the closet, motioning for me to dress. It was a light blue satin dress, long and sleeveless with a ribbed train of cloth from the waistline. At the sight of it, I was drawn to the painting above the fireplace, the one that looked like me. Jenkins watched the direction of my gaze and nodded. The dress was the same as the one in the painting. I stamped my foot and spun around silently, my back now to the painting. Remember, I told myself, all these people, Julius, Elita, all of them, are nuts. Just plain crazy They are not Vampires. There is no such thing. There is no such thing.

There is no such thing as Vampires. Once again, chanting came to my rescue, although as always, it offered little relief.

Jenkins clearly had no interest in my nude body as he helped me dress. It was an odd feeling, but comfortable. After politely admiring the fit of the dress, he held out silver handcuffs with filigree around the edges. I faced him quietly, with the recognition that I had no power here. I would have to see this charade through to the end. There is no such thing. There is no such thing.

There is no such thing as a Vampire, I chanted.

"Are you ready?"

I nodded. Strangely, I was not really scared. I didn't believe they would kill me. The worst, I imagined, was that I'd get cut a little, maybe raped, certainly terrified, but not murdered. At some point, Julius would have to get bored with me. I could only hope. And pray.

Jenkins gently pulled my arms behind me and cuffed my wrists together. He led me to the door.

"Elita will be along to take you to the ritual rooms."

"You're not joining in the fun, Jenkins?" I said with much more bravado than I actually felt. In fact, I was beginning to feel utterly and hopelessly defeated, ready to give in completely.

"No, madam. I have never entered the chambers and have no wish to do so now."

Quietly, I implored, "Why won't you help me? Please help me. Get a message to the police." I dropped to my knees. "You like me, I know, I can tell. I'm begging you, please, I'm scared. These people are crazy. Help me."

"For better or worse, we all must live out our destiny. Mine is to simply tend to the fire. Yours, however, is to burn. My sense is that you may do more good than you can possibly imagine. Soon, perhaps, you will have more power than Julius."

He held out his hands and helped me to a standing position.

"What does that mean?"

"It's my way of helping you. Remember this conversation in your darkest moment, after you are turned."

"They must pay you a lot," I spat venomously.

There was a knock at the door. Elita poked her head inside the room. Her face radiated with life and health.

"Are we all ready, boys and girls? The fun is about to begin!"

I responded wearily. "How long will this little escapade last? And if I'm a good little victim, can I leave when it's over?"

Elita smiled. "Of course. Do as you wish. But I suspect that you will find it in your heart to remain with us. Your choices will be rather limited, you may find, at least for the first several decades."

"Turned, spurned, let's just get on with it so I can go home," I whispered.

As Elita led me down the stone stairs, there was a stillness I had never before experienced. The heavy door closed behind us and a metal bolt was dragged into place. It was difficult to make out anything besides a faint glow at the bottom of the stairs. Oh, God, what was happening here? I looked down to the base of the stairs, lifting one foot in front of the other, mechanically, as if I were descending into hell, step by hideous step.

Halfway down, I felt my fear unexpectedly joined by calm, a strange serenity, or was it resignation? These opposing emotions battled inside me, thrilling me; I felt my heartbeat racing. Elita grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me down the stairs faster.

Drawing back, I whispered at her, instinctively, "Don't touch me, don't ever touch me again. From this moment on, all who stand in my way are to be my enemy As these events unfold, you had best be sure of your allegiances." Elita shrunk back, and I was filled with the joy of watching fear rise in her eyes. I felt the ferocity and power of my voice emanating from my eyes as I glared at her. But where had this power come from? Unquestionably, the words were from my mouth, but they came unbidden, as if I were listening to a stranger, an unfamiliar will inside my body and mind. Don't worry, I heard it whisper, we are here for you.

There was no time to listen. At the bottom of the stairs, Julius was waiting, enshrouded by shadows and barely illuminated by the dim light from thick, waxy candles placed around the cavernous room. It was difficult to make out much of the surroundings.

There were no windows, only massive stone walls sweating beads of moisture, a cold floor, and two caskets against the wall.

Julius stepped forward and bowed low. Imperiously, I passed by him and circled the small room, arms still held behind me by the handcuffs. He was surprised, I could sense this, at my sudden composure. This apparent confidence, despite the absurdity of my predicament, was equally surprising to me. I paused in my stroll at the second casket. Lined in lush purple velvet, constructed plainly but solidly of oak, stained a light brown, it was elegant, exactly the type of casket I would have picked out had I been in the position to shop for my own funeral.

"That was constructed with you in mind."

"It's attractive enough," I responded casually.

"It now belongs to you," said Julius quietly. He approached me like a cat, quietly but certainly. My body tensed as he came near.

"It is time to begin."

"I'd like to cut to the chase here. Let's dispense with the ceremonies, the little arcane procedures and other notions you may have in mind for this evening. Just do what is absolutely essential."

He nodded. "As you wish. After tonight, after you have been turned, you will be mine, and you will do my bidding. For tonight, I will do yours."

"Whatever."

I turned to regard Elita. Making her uncomfortable had been one of the most satisfying things I had ever done, and now I wanted more of it. "Must she be present?" I said, my tone dripping with disdain.

"She is here to attend to you, to do your bidding as your lady-in-waiting."

"I want no one here but you," I replied.

Elita looked at Julius and something quiet passed between them. Elita nodded, bowed deeply to me, and left the room, ascending the staircase. I listened carefully to Elita's footsteps, heard the creak of the heavy door, and waited for the next sound that I should have heard. I did not hear it. Elita had not bolted the door. My heart quickened at this unexpected turn of luck. Or was it luck?

Taking my arm, Julius led me silently to the center of the room to stand on a tiled circle inlaid in the stone floor. It was dark blue on the outside, with a red interior. At the very center was a single eye, green with a jet-black iris, fully open and staring up. Julius walked around me, circling several times, but said nothing, just growled deep in his throat.

Finally, he spoke, quietly, seductively. "I will remove your handcuffs."

He did so and I remained motionless.

He purred and breathed and surrounded me with the sound of his voice. "Remove your clothing."

I obeyed, no longer thinking about what would happen or why I was hypnotized by the timbre of his voice and was falling into his sound and melody as before, only stronger.

My dress fell into a heap around my ankles. Underneath I wore nothing, Jenkins hadn't laid out anything else. Julius looked at me and I wondered if he liked what he saw An energy passed between us, palpable, and I heard his voice, unmistakably, inside my mind. "Be not afraid. What you will undergo has been passed down since the dawn of creation. Tonight, I will become your creator. I will be unto you as your mother, your father, your God, your husband, your child, your lover, your witness. I will be all to you for eternity I will bring you into the darkness, will bring you into the world of the undead where you are to fully live and live fully within your royal heritage and beside me forever."

He touched me gently on the small of my back, and turned me around three times in a counterclockwise direction. "Stretch your arms above your head as far as you are able."

Again, I obeyed without questioning, lifting my arms above my head. I felt blood rushing through my body, felt myself pulling involuntarily toward Julius, and felt the heat emanating from his body to mine as if our bodies spoke a wordless, sacred language unto themselves.

"Remain thus."

Julius removed a small knife from his vest pocket. It glinted in the candlelight. He looked intently in my eyes, holding them silently. There was a sudden ache deep in my womb - the pain so intense, I doubled over.

"No," said Julius hoarsely. "Keep your arms above your head or I will handcuff you again."

Above my head were iron hooks dangling from the ceiling, and I knew he would hook me, hang me from the wrists if I disobeyed. Despite the deep ache inside me, the searing pain shooting through my hips, I heeded his command, stretching my arms, my body, pretending that I was stronger than I knew myself to be.

Julius moved the knife close to me, looking still into my eyes. Damn you, I will not give you the satisfaction, I will not give in to the fear, I screamed inside my mind. His other hand touched my breast carefully, like a feather falling onto my skin. My breath quickened, I could breathe only shallowly and I closed my eyes, knowing that I had to maintain my strength, my control, but a desire involuntarily swelled inside me, lying low beneath the pain in my belly, a desire so powerful I feared it would shatter me.

Then, a quick cut and the skin and flesh parted. Blood welled and dripped from between my breasts. There was no pain, just a deepening of intense desire for him, for this man who was defiling me.

I dared not open my eyes. To look at him would mean the end of me. I prayed that he, too, would remain silent. I knew his voice would swallow me, would make me want him in a way beyond my control. One word and I would give in. No, no, I screamed silently, fight, resist.

"You cannot resist me. I will win you completely and you will be glad of it." His voice echoed inside my head.

Pain flared and crashed through me; I welcomed it as a weapon against my physical desire. I cracked open my eyes and saw Julius, head bowed before me. He placed his mouth over my wound, sucking the blood from me lovingly, longingly The taste seemed to overwhelm him, the rich warmth of my blood flooded his hungry mouth. I heard him gasp and felt him shudder against me. He whispered, "How long I have waited for this moment." I weakened, felt his power moving inside me, much like the instant when a man first enters a woman, breath stolen by the wind. The flow of my blood draining from between my breasts mingled with the dull, insistent pain pulsating in my womb and the waves of desire for him that were swallowing me. I closed my eyes once again, allowed myself to be swept away, felt my blood thicken, knew that it was over. I was dying, yet in the midst of my death, I was lost inside the immensity of his power, of my response to him.

I heard a scream. From deep inside me. Tucker. It was Tucker. Screaming in agony tortured, his pain at losing me ripped through my mind. In the span of a second, I was transformed. I looked down at Julius, still bent to my breast, and knew exactly what had to be done.

I arched my body as if locked in desire, mimicking the movements he wanted to see. Julius' mouth left my breasts and he placed his now trembling hands around my waist, pulling me to him. He pressed his mouth to mine. I tasted crimson and copper, felt my own blood being pushed back inside my mouth. "Swallow your own life," he said and I did, despite my revulsion. I felt a stab of pain in my womb and blood trickled down my thighs. Julius pulled back, his lips and cheeks red with my blood. He knelt before me, spreading my legs, greedily licking the blood from my thighs as it dripped from inside. I felt the roughness of his tongue, the glossy blood being twirled and teased in his mouth like wine.

He growled, making the noises that had mesmerized me earlier, but now sickened me. "Oh my love, my sweet, this is our union.

Wider, spread them wider." He was completely lost in his desire for me. Again, I saw the glint of his knife. He cut himself, but I was not sure where. Cupping his own blood in his hands, he drank that blood, pooling it inside his mouth, and then pressed his lips between my legs, pushing his blood inside my womb, mixing it with my own. "My life is inside your life now. You are forever eternal. You are mine and I am yours."

Though I was repulsed, something involuntarily contracted inside me. My body shook, spasms ripped through my flesh and muscles, through every cell of my being.

Julius knelt before me, eyes glazed. "My love," he whispered, "my one true love. My Queen..."

My body fell toward the floor. Jenkins' last words to me echoed in my head, and even farther away I heard Elita laughing.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but somehow I suspected it had been over an hour when I awoke. Power surged inside me, I felt very strong, a rush of adrenaline. The pain was gone. The wound on my chest had all but disappeared although blood was everywhere. Next to me, Julius lay in a crumpled heap, breathing deeply. What had happened while I was out?

Never mind, I thought, don't think about it now, just get out.

Grabbing the discarded dress, I sprinted up the stairs, jerking the heavy door open. Jenkins was waiting. He peered past me and saw the crumpled form of Julius. Shit. Now what? I wondered if I could beat him, if my strength was greater than his. He placed his finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet. He led me out of the house and into the darkened gardens. I struggled back into my clothes as I followed him. In the darkness of the garden, a shadow passed close by and the smell of cloves filled my senses.

Elita. I paused, ready for a fight with the bitch, the adrenaline pumping through my body.

"Come quickly, my dear," urged Jenkins in response to my hesitation.

"Why are you helping me?"

"There are forces at work here that you do not yet understand, and I hope to be on the side of the winner."

"Me, a winner?" I asked incredulously.

"You will not be the loser."

"Explain yourself. Stop talking in riddles."

"Please, just follow me, we haven't much time. Listen carefully. There has been no time to instruct you properly. You will unfortunately have to learn the hard way, if you are to survive. You need food, blood. You must feed tonight. And remember, do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself to be found by the light of day The sun will destroy you. You now embody the dark side, a side which cannot bear the light."

With these words, he opened the door onto the sidewalk and I found myself on the darkened streets of Manhattan.

MANHATTAN COMPOUND

October 10, 2001, 11:27 P.M.

Julius stood by the window, arms folded. "Tell me one more time how she escaped."

Elita sat, hands folded in her lap, near the fire. "It is unclear. She seems to..."

He cut her off with a wave. "I do not want supposition. I want to know where our security failed and whom I shall have to kill for this."

"Perhaps we..."

He continued. "Did I say kill? What I meant was torture. Who shall endure unspeakable agonies for this lapse in security?" He spun and faced her. "Well?"

"Julius, tell me what happened in the chamber."

"What happened down below is irrelevant."

"But..."

He cut her off with a savage wave. "Learn your place. Yours is not to question. Yours is to obey. She escaped from the chambers and that is enough. There is no excuse for her escaping the compound."

Elita bit back an angry retort and felt her body flush with anger. She nodded her head. "You are right, of course. Tell me what to do."

He sneered. "Do I have to spell it out? Find her. Kill who you must, but find her and bring her back. Now go."

Elita stood and crossed to the door and as she opened it Julius called out. "Wait." Her undead heart skipped a beat. "Where were you during the turning?"

She paused. "Are you accusing me?"

"I am simply not underestimating you. Where were you?"

"Feeding. Would you like to see the corpse?"

"Perhaps. Later."

She slammed the door and stood in the hall, fighting back the fear that was slowly infecting her mind. If Julius learned the truth,

her life would be forfeited. She took a deep breath and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. He suspected. Of that she was sure, but it was far too late to stop it now. To have orchestrated Lizzie's escape so soon after her turning signed both of their death warrants. Alone and with no mentor to explain the change, Lizzie would perish. Of hunger or insanity, or from the sun. And if Julius found out the truth, she herself would be chained in the sun.

Elita was now committed to this risky course of action. There was no end to it until it ended itself. And hopefully, that end would be to her liking. Even if Lizzie miraculously survived and made it to Lazarus, she would still be far enough away from Julius to pose no threat to Elita. With Lizzie out of the picture, her place beside Julius would be secure for at least the next 700 years.

Confidence returning, she stubbed out the cigarette and set about her task.

Back inside the study, Julius fumed. That Lizzie's escape occurred at all was his fault. This was undeniable. He had passed out.

In the name of all things unholy, what was happening to him? His power had never taken an unexpected turn such as this. Like some feeble Adamite he had allowed his passions to claim him, had been transported by the union he had forged between them.

He had reached out for her soul with his own and felt them touch, briefly, and had succumbed to the explosion of unexpected power there. Unacceptable. He was the master, she a mere whisper of the potential that could develop in a dozen centuries under his tutelage.

And yet, when he woke, he had found himself alone and drained as if he were the acolyte and she the master. There was an emptiness in his soul and he feared that perhaps she had seen something there and taken it from him. Something crucial and needed. The image of her swirled up from the depths of his memory, standing naked and proud before him, her breasts and thighs dripping blood, its taste hot in his mouth. An involuntary tremble racked him, nearly bringing him to his knees and he gasped unexpectedly at this convulsion.

He stood unsteadily and reached for the decanter of cognac. The liquid did little to quell the feelings unravelling in him. As ludicrous as it seemed, he felt like crying.