• Chapter One


    “Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.”
    -John le Carre


    “It’s so . . .” she paused, the small sigh that escaped from her thin lips sounded like snow settling on morning frost. “Lonely.”

    The word stung him, like a stake being driven through his heart. No, through his very soul. He smiled, not one of joy, just something to drive away the awkward silence that had fallen upon them. He wanted to speak, but the words were not his to command. All he could do was watch, watch the slow pulse of the vein in her neck, watched the small gusts of wind play with the light brown wisps of her hair. He looked up from her neck to her eyes; the innocence in the brackish green iris had startled him when he first saw her. Finally he found himself speaking, in a voice he barely recognized as his own it was so filled with wonder and awe. “Yes. It is, isn’t it?” He felt foolish and awkward, as if she held his life and he was trying to win it back by holding his breath in the water of a thousand tears.

    She laughed. Oh, how gloriously she laughed! Like the whispers of angels and the songs of birds. It was as if she herself were all the good and wondrous things in the world. His thoughts silenced as her voice penetrated the depths of his mind. “Why are you so mysterious?” She turned from the doorway of his house, facing him instead of the interior “What do you have to hide? Don’t tell me - let me guess.”

    She moved her hand from the wooden door and placed it on her chin, pretending to stroke a non existent beard. “You don’t like women?”

    He laughed, his was a deeper laugh, a far richer tone. “I don’t like other women.” He paused, watching her expression relax. “Cecilia.” He formed her named delicately, his pale blue eyes shimmering in what remained of the days light. “I love you, anyone else is nothing to me.”

    The statement caught her off guard, the amusement in her face vanished and was replaced with a slightly guarded fear. It only made sense she reacted like that. While he had the chance to watch her, she never noticed him. He merely assumed that she never bother to look. For years he had been know only as the rich man in the village, he had acted stuck up and self centered to prevent people from knowing who or what he really was. Twenty years he had lived alone, trying to hide himself from others. Just a week ago he had decided to journey into the towns market.

    He spoke with few people but those he did speak with did not remember him as the man that lived in the house. Thankfully he had hidden himself long enough no one remembered him. The story he told to them was of how his father had passed away last night and how he alone had to bury him since his father lacked belief in God. He had finally run into Cecilia later on in the day, for the first day he tried to be friend her but she didn’t seem the least bit interested. Or at least she tried to act that way. Days passes and every morning he would lather her with gifts but try as she might he could not get her to respond with any type of flirting. Just two days ago he had asked her father and elderly farmer, for her hand in marriage.

    She had overheard his request, and at first seemed repulsed by the fact they were to be wed. Sadly enough, he knew the only reason she had ended up agreeing was because her father had forced her to marry him. He could only hope that in time she could learn to love him as he loved her.

    “Kalvier.” It gave him a strange amount of joy to hear her say his name. “Tell me something.” She paused, only for a brief moment. “Why is it you wanted me?”

    A million reasons were in his mind, because she had always been kind, because she was so humble, because she was so delicate. Because she always smelled like the ocean coated in laics. Because he had watched her ever since she had been attacked by a dog at the age of two. “Because. “ He looked away from her and toward the setting sun. “You didn’t flock to me like a fly attracted to the stench of wealth.” He could have had many other women in the town, they all flirted with him but he knew it was only because they knew he was rich.

    “And how do you know that I did not? Maybe that’s the only reason I’m here right now.” She glared at him, and although he did not look at her he could feel the sting of her gaze.

    “Perhaps, but you are still here. Maybe if I’m lucky you will learn to love me.” He smiled, but that soon turned to a frown as the sun set even further. He hated the dark, he hated the night.

    “You self centered b*****d!” She slapped him, her eyes burning with such a hatred he thought it would tear him apart and destroy the very essence of his existence.

    He rubbed his check; his eyes held a pain in them but it was not from the sting of her palm. “b*****d I might be. Self centered I am not.” A sighed as he glance to the sun and back to her. “Look, if you truly don’t want to be here with me…” A small smile formed at the corners of his lips. “Then, I give you the freedom to do whatever you want. You don’t have to stay here.” He walked past her, into his large and rather well built house compared to the other houses in the village.

    She turned to walk away, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. He looked back to the wall of his room; the picture of the moon that he had painted years ago caught his attention. He hoped she would come back, he prayed for her return.

    The sun finally vanished into the hills, the darkness engulfing the world.

    His eyes, the pale blue similar to that of ice slowly turned pitch black. His two canine teeth lengthened and sharpened. He let out a low growl as his bones repositioned, his fingernails growing sharper in an instant. Every sense sharpened, every sound was his. Slowly he turned to face the open door, into the night. Into his kingdom. She stood there, her face taunt with terror.

    “Cecilia… please don’t-” He watched her run; even though his voice was the same she was still afraid. He looked at his hands, he was a beast. Nothing more. It had been almost a hundred years since he had been bitten by Sophie, who called herself a Night Bringer. He was only eighteen, and now, now he had nothing but his riches and his lies.

    The soft pops and crackles of fire played with his ears. He assumed it was nothing more than a fireplace. He walked toward his bed; the soft mattress of goose down comforted him countless nights already. Laying down he felt his body resist the urge to kill and feast. It had been almost thirty years since he had given in to his instincts, and he intended on keeping that urge at bay.

    ---------------------------------------


    He woke slowly, the light of day filtering through the window of his room. The modern day household dragged him back through time, pulling him from his dreams and back into the cruelty of reality.

    It had been along time since he had seen her face in his dreams and for a moment he wondered why he had dreamt of that day, the one time he had been unhappy around her. His questioning thought went unanswered as a knock on his door startled him.

    “Kalvier?” The voice of an older woman required his attention and reply.

    “I’m up.” His voice, though groggy and slightly cracked was otherwise smooth and strong. Giving him the sound of false youth.

    “Alright, I made you some breakfast.”

    He listened as her footsteps echoed down the hall. Sitting up he pushed the covers off, revealing his bare skin and grey boxers. She knew that he rarely ate anything but he was hungry enough today to eat something, so long as it was bacon and not eggs. He hated eggs.

    He stood up from the queen sized bed. He was well built and at about 5’8 he was thankful to have been so tall to start with because as the years passed by he felt shorter and shorter. He drew his hands through his pitch black hair, stopping when it did at the bottom of his neck. Once his hair was a lighter brown but for reasons he didn’t quite understand it had gotten darker over the years. His eyes had done the same, from their original icy blue to a deeper and far wiser looking sapphire blue.

    He moved from the edge of his bed to the southern most wall of his room to get some clothes from the four drawer cherry dresser. Opening the topmost drawer he pulled out a grey t-shirt, from the second a fresh pain of boxers, dark blue in color, and a pair of white socks. From the second to last drawer he pulled out a dark pair of denim jeans. Quickly slipping the clothes on, he grabbed a small necklace with a metal cross pendant from the top of the dresser before rushing out of the eastern most door.

    The apartment he lived in was, in most aspects, rather large. For living in the inner city of Brooklyn he was quite well off, especially since he had yet to work in this town. The hall he was walking down now had three doors, one to the right only two feet or so after his door. The next door was to the left, and that lead to a guest bedroom. The final door was to the right as well and that was just a storage room. The first door though he been shut for years, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had opened it. The hallway opened up into his living room, which connected to both the dining room and the kitchen. The entire area was hardwood floor so he didn’t have to worry about vacuuming anything but the rooms that were off of the hallway.

    Walking from the living room and into the kitchen he sat down in the small table that rested next to the barrier that separated the kitchen from the dining room. He rarely used the dining room, so the deep brown table that could seat six people went unused. He hated open space though, so he filled it with pointless furniture and knick knacks that, though he would never willingly part with them, meant very little to him in the greater scheme that was his life.

    She sent the plate in front of him, the smell of salted pork filled his nostrils. Picking up a piece of bacon he bite it, savoring the flavor. It wouldn’t stop him from being hungry, nothing but living blood could do that but he still could enjoy the flavor. She sat across from him. Looking up from the plate he took a long look at her. He never realized it but she had aged quite a bit since he last looked at her. She looked like she was in her early eighties. Her face was lined with wrinkles and her eyes were sunken in to her skull. Her hair, that had once been close to the color of blood, was now a faded white color and stringy. She had been under a hundred pounds when he had first met her when she was around eighteen and was now a more healthier hundred and eighty or so. In his mind she looked better than she ever had, finally showing her age and actually looking mature for once. She smiled, the wrinkles sinking deeper into her face. Her pale green eyes twinkled with a different kind of joy. He almost felt bad for keeping her in his house but he kept her well, gave her whatever she wanted and only asked that she didn’t tell anyone who or what he really was. It had worked so far, and in exchange she kept house for him.

    “Kalvier, Gregor stopped by earlier.” She took a bite of eggs from her plate, he wrinkled his nose as he watched her eat it. Eating something that came from the bottom region of a chicken had never been something he thought of doing but it had been common practice for as long as he could remember.

    “Oh, what did he want?” Their exchanges were always so empty, void of any real emotion. Their relationship was an odd one as well.

    “He said something about a meeting in the black library.” She took another bite of eggs, this time adorning it with some cheese.

    “Alright then. I am going to have to go there soon then, did he say any particular time?” The Black Library was code for a council meeting. Something he was unfortunately involved in. Ever since he came over from Europe the European council had been keeping an eye on him. They had sent Gregor, a slightly younger vampire, to deliver the message that he was to run a newly established vampiric council for the east coast.

    “Um.” She paused, taking yet another bit of eggs. Putting her fork down she looked up to the small clock hanging on the wall. “No, he didn’t tell me any particular time. I guess it would be about mid-day as always.” She grabbed a piece of buttered toast from the plate on the table, taking a small bite from the piece of bread.

    He nodded, sighing as he stood up. His plate wasn’t empty, there was still a small pile of eggs and half a piece of bacon. “I’m off then, do me a favor though.” He paused, pushing his chair under the table.

    “What’s that?”

    He looked up at her, “Get some shopping done, it’s almost winter and you need some heavier clothes.”

    She smiled, nodding her head, “No problem. See you later Kalvier.”

    He was already at the door, pulling it open and letting the cool late fall air rush inside the apartment. “See you later.” Grabbing the jacket hanging on a coat rack beside the door he tossed it on, exiting the household and pulling the door shut behind him.

    Chapter Two

    “I can't understand it. I can't even understand the people who can understand it.”
    -Queen Juliana


    In all actuality he had not intended to leave the apartment today, he despised the reality. Being out in the open reminded him that the world still moved forward, and how he hated that revelation.

    It was not that he hated humans, or the world for that matter. No, nothing of that sort. He hated time. He hated what he was, what he would always be. As time dragged on he remained frozen, like an ageless statue. Like a piece in one of his collections. All he could do was watch the world grow old, watch even the most beautiful flower wilt. Watch the world destroy itself. Although, even then it was not time he hated. In a sense of the term he hated himself. He hated what the choices he had made resulted in.

    Then again, he had been like that even when he was human. It was odd how well he could remember things. Certain details were never forgotten, but in some cases the years had melted together. Still, he knew the exact time of the day, the exact layout of the room. Every tiny detail he had memorized, only because that was the day his world was destroyed. The day his mother died, the day everything good he had ever known had vanished. His father stopped working on the farm and, even though he was only nine at the time, he had to take over. Things would only get worse.

    He took in a breath of air, realizing that he had been holding his breath. In his boredom, and to prevent his thoughts from straying again. He began to sing the poem of Barbra Allen, one of his favorite ballads.

    In scarlet town, where I was born
    There was a fair maid dwelling
    Made every youth cry well away
    An' her name was Barbra Allen


    He stepped in timing with the music that played in his head, it kept him entertained and best of all stripped him of his boredom.

    All in th merry month of May
    When th green buds were swelling
    Sweet William came from th western states
    And courted Barbra Allen

    It was all in th month of June
    When all things they were blooming
    Sweet William on his death bed lay
    For th love of Barbra Allen

    He sent his servant to th town
    Where Barbra was a dwelling,
    My master is sick and sends for you
    If your name be Barbra Allen

    And death is painted on his face
    And o'er his heart is stealing
    Then hasten away to comfort him
    A, lovely Barbra Allen

    So slowly, slowly, she got up
    And slowly she came nigh him
    And all she said when she got there,
    Young man, I think your dying


    His memory surprised even him as he recited the words as he had heard them so long ago in the streets he used to walk along.

    O yes, I'm sick an' very sick
    And death is on me dwelling
    No better, no better, I never can be
    If I can't have Barbra Allen

    O yes, your sick and very sick
    And death is on you dwelling
    No better, no better, you never will be
    For you can't have Barbra Allen

    O, don't you remember in yonder town
    When you were at th tavern
    You drank a health to th ladies all around
    An' slighted Barbra Allen

    As she was on her highway home
    Th birds they kept a singing
    They sing'd so clear they seemed to say
    Hard hearted Barbra Allen

    As she was walking o'er th fields
    She heard the death bell knelling
    And ever stroke did seem to say,
    Hard hearted Barbra Allen


    The meaning in the song amused him, at it amused many. For him though, it held within it a personal meaning that only he would ever try to explain.

    She looked to th east, she looked to th west
    She spied his corpse a'coming
    Lay down, lay down, that corpse of clay
    That I may look upon him

    The more she looked, th more she mourned
    Till she fell to th ground a'crying
    Saying, take me up an' carry me home
    For I am now, a dying

    O mother, o mother, go make my bed
    Go make it long an' narrow
    Sweet William died for pure, pure love
    And I shall die for sorrow


    This version, he had first heard in the 1970s but he had listened to the original so many years ago, he couldn’t even remember when. This was his favorite version though. For it’s length and because he thought it conveyed the message far better than the others.

    O father, o father, go dig my grave
    Go dig it long and narrow
    Sweet William died for me today
    I'll die for him tomorrow

    She was buried in the old churchyard
    And he was buried, anigh her
    On William's grave, there grew a red rose
    On Barbra's grew a green brier


    He was about half way to the council meeting place, which was just Gregor house. Of course, his home was a slightly overrun storehouse that hadn’t been used in so long Kalvier wondered if Gregor was actually paying some sort of rent on it or if he just broke in. Either way, he didn’t care all that much.

    When he was almost there, just about five minutes away from the depressing building that he had hoped to avoid, an odd scent filled the streets. First it was weak, but as he walked on it became stronger. Looking to the far right, the other side of the street, he watched a young girl as she walked past him. Unaware of his eyes she didn’t even divert her gaze from the street, but she he no need to do something like that. She was among the poultry few humans that were out that day, but from some reason he couldn’t help but think she was more than human. She wasn’t a vampire, or a werewolf, or any of the other creatures he had met over the years. She just smelled different.

    Even in the smog of the city and the scents of decaying garbage, open sewer systems, and the filthy homeless man he had just passes at the last street corner, he could still single out her aroma.

    Perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps she is a NightBringer, or at least one of pure blood. He tried to remember the scent of his creator, a female of pure blood that had descended from two of the first seven. It was strange though, the scents were similar but this strangers was still different, better somehow. Sweeter, as if she wore honeysuckles around her neck. It was rare for any human to smell so good.

    She looked up, not at him thankfully. Still, he froze, barely able to stop himself from tripping over his own two feet. Later he would remember this moment as the beginning of the end, and the end of his pathetic existence in this world. His heart, his strong and never failing heart, skipped a beat. He felt a chill crawl up his spine, immobilizing him.

    She wasn’t looking at him though, she was watching the corner of the street. She was standing so still, if not for the rise and fall of her chest he would have thought her to be a statue. She seemed to be challenging the shadow coated alley, where the shade cast by the building hid the corner and the rest of the hidden street. Her eyes, the endless pools of golden brown, were empty of all emotion - as if she had lost herself some where.

    The wind picked up, catching itself in her long light brown hair and pulling it away from her face and neck. She moved, pulling the white zip-up hoodie tighter over her pale blue t-shirt and thin frame. She moved once more, this time to take a step. He noticed that her dark jeans has a tear in the upper right thigh, but that was the style now, or so he guess. It was in that moment, right before her foot hit the ground, that he caught a scent. Blood. Fresh human blood.

    He felt his stomach lurch, wanting what it could not have. Quickly and quietly he crossed over to her side of the street, the whole time cursing himself for not detecting the scent earlier. The blood scent was mixed with the musk of werewolf. He didn’t have time to think about the fact that it was day time. This girl, the oddly scented human, was headed into the jaws of a feasting werewolf. Not just any wolf either, a pure blood without a care for reestablished rules or human life. If he couldn’t get to her in time… he shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t let her die, not someone with that scent. Not any human. It was his job to keep the balance, to keep his kind and wolves unknown. He only hoped that he could convince the wolf to leave them alone, he was no match for a pure blood when the sun was out. No match at all.

    Chapter Three

    “Only two things are infinity, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.”
    -Albert Einstein


    Dante’s patience had worn thin.

    “Well, where the hell is he? It’s half past noon already and you said he normally gets up at eleven.”

    Gregor sighed, “Relax Dante, relax. He takes his time. Besides, why are you in such a rush. We have all the time in the world. What, do you have a hot date or something?” Gregor looked much younger than Kalvier, he appeared to be just barely seventeen. He had short black hair, and cheerful green eyes. Though he looked, and sometimes acted, childish he was among some of the oldest vampire living in the city. Dante was just visiting. Still, the aggravated Dante toward about him in height and with his four inch advantage he could have easily beaten the 5’6 vampire in a fight. Then again, Dante age was an advantage in itself since he had at least fifty years on the slightly younger vampire.

    "I always have a hot date Gregor. Might as well put my pretty face, and impressive… well you know, to use right?” Dante grinned, surprisingly his fangs were shorter than most vampires but all that meant was that he had been infected, or rather turned, at a later age. Even though he looked like he was in his early twenties, he was roughly thirty five when he was first infected. That was nearly half a lifetime during his time period. Being careless had served as an advantage to him, he found out rather quickly that the more blood you drank the younger you can look - especially if that blood had been recently infected. His hair was a rich shade of brown, almost black in tone, and was spiked back as always. He enjoyed the short spikes of hair, and didn’t need to do much to achieve that effect. His eyes were much harder than those of Gregor, capable of being playful and serious, romantic and sexy, but mainly used for staring down people his was annoyed with, and that was half the world. They were a crisps teal, with more green than blue in the mixture and an inner layer of yellow around the pupil. His hose had been broken and was oddly bent in between his eyes, his lips were slightly fuller than others and seemed to match the rest of his rough features. His chin and sides of his face were scruffy from a lack of shaving. All in all, he was more fit for a bar or strip club than the rundown storehouse waiting to deliver some all important message to some stuck up vampire that was probably still a virgin, and in truth he would have much rather been in either. He mumbled an insult under his breath, it sounded something like, impotent swine ******** fags.

    “Watch your tongue Dante, Council man Crysto might burn you for using a term like that.” Gregor smiled, Crysto, one of the grand council members, was gay and hated those that dared to insult him. “He wiped out an entire village because the butcher insulted him y’know.”

    “Yeah, I know, but as far as I’m concerned I shouldn’t be listening to rainbow chasers like him.”

    “Sometimes I wonder about you Dante. How did you get to be so rough?”

    “Like you care, you’re just as bad as the rest of the old farts at Grand council. All you ever do is sit on your a** and have other vampires run your messages while you make up stupid laws and sip lemonade from swirly straws. You sicken me.”

    “I do care… and we don’t use swirly straws.” He paused, chuckling just barely, “Beside, you’re older than me, dearest elder.”

    “Shut your trap idiot.”

    Gregor just laughed, a sweet and somewhat mellow tone.

    “Where the hell is that b*****d?! Why the ******** is he taking so god damn long!”

    “Wow, three different curses. Extending out vocabulary are we?”

    Dante glared at him, “Talk again and I’ll rip your tongue out and feed it to a pigeon.”

    Gregor pretended to zip his lips and threw away an imaginary key.

    Grumbling Dante began to pace, his lack of patience only worsening in the
    silence.

    “He’s got ten minutes, if he doesn’t get here by then you’re leading me to his house so I can strangle him for wasting my time.”

    Gregor didn’t talk, he only shook his head and let out a sigh through his nose.

    “And you can talk!” He lowered his voice, “Just, no insults.”

    He sat down on the couch, the only piece of furniture in the empty warehouse. Gregor, who had been sitting Indian style on the ground the entire time laughed again.

    “You’ll have to tell me your story sometime Dante, I think it’d make a good book.”

    “My story?” He paused, “Hmph. My story would bore the bones right out of your body.”

    “Oh, I don’t think it would. Promise me you’ll tell me one day?”

    “Yeah, whatever.”

    “See, was that so hard?”

    Silence was the only reply Gregor recieved as Dante drifted off into his own thoughts. His past was far from boring, but it was something he rarely had time to think about in between woman, sleep (which was quite often interrupted by women), blood and trying to keep away from council. Not though, now he had nothing to keep him safe from his thoughts.

    ----------------------------------------


    He was in a field now, the growth of wheat around him was his home, his escape, his freedom. This was the only place he had ever felt safe, where he could run to when things got bad.

    “Dante”

    He looked up from his feet, where he had been staring at while crouched over. “Yeah?” His voice was much younger, he was ten now. Ten and human.

    “Dad wants you…” She looked sad, her face showed the dried tracks of tears. They reminded him of a saying that he had always wanted to use.

    “Oh. You okay sis?” She was older than him, by at least seven years, but he still wanted to protect her – to make sure she never felt sadness or pain. He loved her as any brother should love a sister.

    “I’m fine, he’s just upset with me that’s all.” She sighed, “I’m going to be married soon…”

    “That’s to be expected… you are seventeen now.” He smiled, standing up. He was tall for his age, but that was in his blood. Already he was up to her shoulder and he hadn’t even his puberty yet. At first glance, he didn’t even look ten. His eyes were serious and his facial expression was mature enough to pass for at least fifteen. His childhood, like so many others, had been cut short by his father and the tough demands of farm work. As poor farmer, and a small family at that, everyone had to work. Normally, a farmer would have had many children but they couldn’t even afford to feed even the two they had now. Plus, ever since Dante was born his mother had been sick, always complaining of being cold and sore. No one knew what was wrong but she died five years after the sickness started. His father, seeking to blame someone, put Dante at fault. Though, in the years after her death Dante would figure out that she had died of a form of brain cancer.

    “Yes…” she interrupted the slight silence. “But, he wants me to marry Kalvier.”

    His eyes narrowed, “Kalvier? That pig? Why”

    “Because, he has money.” She sighed “He is going to show me his house tomorrow nights.”

    “You can’t marry him… do you love him at all?” He looked shocked, as if his world was falling apart.

    “Love.” She mumbled the word like a curse. “does anyone love around here anymore?”

    Dante gripped her shoulders. “Cecilia… listen to me, don’t give up on love. There is someone for everyone.”

    She looked up to him. “Maybe but love is dead.”

    He sighed, “Was it really love with you and him.”

    Without hesitation, she replied, “Yes. It was.” She smiled, “It was and it was perfect. Do you remember his saying… what he said when he first saw me?”

    Dante chuckled, “How could I forget?”

    “I was crying in the field, father had been yelling at me again. He told me he wanted to be my tears..”

    “To be born in your eyes.”

    “To live on your cheeks.”

    “and to die on your lips.” He sighed, “I know.”

    “Dante, I can’t love Kalvier. It would be betraying him.”

    “You have to try though, we have to respect dad.”

    The wind picked up, playing with the wheat field and sending a golden ripple through it.

    "Dante?”

    “Hm?” He seemed distant, as if she was day dreaming.

    “What if.” She paused, “What if father would die tomorrow night?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean, what if we could kill him? Then we’d be free. I wouldn’t have to marry Kalvier and you could marry anyone or have your own farm.” Her eyes sparkled with an odd type of sadistic joy.

    “Go on.” He lifted an eyebrow, he hated his father enough to be interested in her plot. As she explained he thought of his sharp words, and even sharper beating.

    “So, we’ll burn the house down?” He questioned with a different tone.

    “No, I won’t burn the house down. You will while I’m at Kalvier’s.”

    “Alright . . . lets do it.”

    “Good, now… we are going to need to get anything we want to keep out of the house and here by tonight. Then, while father takes me to Kalvier’s house you take some hay and put it in the fireplace and all over the house. So the house can catch faster.”

    “What about dad?”

    She paused, thinking to herself for a few seconds before she responded. “When he comes inside, hit him over the head with something so he can’t get out.”

    “Sounds like a plan.”

    “One hour after nightfall I’ll be right here.”

    “Okay.”

    She turned to walk away, he followed her like a lost puppy. Though, in his mind he imagined striking his father over the head, watching him fall to the ground and lighting the house on fire.

    “Cecilia?”

    “Shh.”

    “But.”

    “We’re almost home so be quite.”

    “What if it doesn’t work?”

    She stopped, glaring at him. “It will… it has to.”

    They went through with their little scheme, and everything went almost perfect. Only, their father wasn’t the one to walk in the door first. It was their dog that took the strike intended for their father, their dog who fell to the floor. In his panic Dante had struck the dog, in his panic he made the mistake that would have cost him his life. His father had chased him around the house and Dante had the chance to light the fire before his father cornered him. During his beating, the fire was busy destroying the house. A support beam that held up the simplistic roofing fell on his father, and his leg. Everything has worked almost perfectly. Father was going to die, the house would be burnt. His job was done, but, Dante was going to die with him.

    His sister had tried to save him, but she couldn’t even get in the house. The memories came back to him, in a series of pain filled semi-conscious flashes.

    In the midst of the flames he could hear his sister, screaming for help from someone. Screaming for someone to save him. He had been save, saved by the person he hated most next to his father. But he saved his sister too, and that was the only reason he didn’t want to kill the man that pulled him from the ravenous flames. Kalvier had saved them, even the dog.

    He remembered, so clearly now, what he had said to her.

    His face had been covered with a hood, a long coat hiding nearly all his skin. “Cecilia.” His voice was strong but wavered slightly, as if he was afraid of her. “Please.” He whipped the river of tears from her face, though he didn’t know why she cried. She had passed out trying to get into the house, passed out from the thick smoke.

    “Kalvier, leave her alone.”

    “Dante.” He looked up at the boy, staring straight at the boy with his pitch black eyes. “I have lived, far longer than you can even imagine…” He looked back to her. “And no one else has stolen what she has…”

    “Don’t –“he wanted to stop him from pushing her hair back from her eyes, wanted to tear her away from him. “Don’t even think about touching her.”

    Kalvier sighed, letting go of her and standing up. They were in the same field again, only now he didn’t feel safe. He never felt safe around Kalvier. He looked at Dante again, and even in the blackness of his eyes you could still see the sadness of a broken heart.

    “When she wakes up, tell her.” He paused, “I’m sorry.”

    “What are you sorry for?”

    “For almost forcing her to live a lie.” He sighed again. “You know, you remind me of myself. I had a sister that I would have died for her if she gave me the chance.”

    “Hard to believe, you’re the only son of a rich man. I know who you are, don’t act like you’re someone else.”

    He laughed, “Dante, I am not what I seem to be. I am something else entirely. Just tell her please… if not for me for her sake.”

    “There is no need.” Her voice was low, and barely audible but Kalvier could hear her clearly. “Kalvier, leave us.”

    He held back tears, it made him feel weak when others saw him cry, and he bowed slightly. “Cecilia. Dante.” He gave a nod to the boy. “I am leaving, forever. You can stay at my house and live as though you were my widow Cecilia. All my riches belong to the both of you now.”

    She coughed; the effects of the smoke were still upon her, “Why?” She was stunned, and that was all she could manage to same in between the fits of coughing.

    He just smiled as he turned to leave. “Because, my love, you are worth more than a thousand times what I have now. Because I do not need to live this lie any longer, I can not. So, I will not force you to live a lie as well. Maybe, if you’ll allow it, I can come visit you sometime.”

    “No. You can never come back. Not ever, because you can’t leave.” She paused, thinking about her decision before she continued. He turned around, staring at her in a confused expression. “I never realized it, but… you, you’re like him.”

    Dante choked on the air he breathed in. “Cecilia? What are you saying to him? What are you doing?!”

    “I’m saying that I accept his offer of marriage.”

    And that, that small insignificent moment in time, was when his life as Dante ended and his lie began.