Blood Lines

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: Blood Lines
Chapter Five: Change
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch. but with vampires. and werewolves. in a historical setting.
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, some language, anything else i can toss in. blood play/drinking. M/M, M/F, M/F, F/F, and any other combination that strikes my fancy
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

Blood Lines - The Index

~*~

The knock upon the door was soft, almost timid. It had Mary Magdelaine sighing softly with irritation. There were far too many things that had to be done in the next twenty four hours. She had absolutely no time to deal with someone who lacked conviction. "Enter!" she barked out sharply, never once lifting her gaze from the papers laid out before her. The knob turned slowly. The door opened slowly. The footsteps that crossed from the doorway to the spot just behind her seat were made slowly. She waited for whomever it was to speak. And waited. And waited some more.

After several long seconds of silence, Mary Magdelaine frowned and looked up from her papers. The chamber maid, Theresa, was wearing a look that said she very much didn't want to be there. And she was wringing her hands together, as if she didn't know just what she was supposed to do now she had Mary Magdelaine's attention. "Well? What is it, girl? Can't you see I've got far too much to do today to simply sit here and wait for you to spit out whatever it is you've got to tell me? Speak now. Do it quickly! I have a wedding to manage."

The girl flinched at the touch of acid in her tone. "Yes, mum. Of course, mum. I'm sorry, mum," Theresa hurried to get the words out, then faltered as soon as she got to the apparent reason for her visit. Mary Magdelaine sent her a look that suggested she would murder the silly chit if she didn't start speaking immediately. The girl got the message, her face going pale. "I'm sorry to disturb you, mistress. Truly. But... Its about Alexis."

God save her from her headstrong daughter. Mary Magdelaine sighed, again, and rose to her feet. "What has she done now? I swear, if she's locked herself in her room in protest to our discussion last night, I will take her over my knee and spank her soundly.

"No, mum. She hasn't locked herself in," the maid said, choosing her words carefully. Mary Magdelaine could hear it. The girl was upset about something.

"Oh, good Lord! Please tell me you didn't catch the girl in any manner of... indecent behavior!" The idea that her daughter might actually do anything so low and blatantly disgusting was abhorrent to her. Because she knew Alexis well enough to know that the girl would and could stoop to doing something so base and wicked as... touching herself. Mary Magdelaine rose from her chair and started for the door. "I will put a stop to this, by God! No daughter of mine will ever commit such wicked acts under my roof."

The maid hurried along behind her, making some kind of strangling noise that Mary Magdelaine took to be choking. "No, mum. She hasn't done anything of the sort. In fact, she hasn't done anything at all."

By that point, they'd reached Alexis' personal chambers. A quick turn of the knob saw the door swinging open to show Mary Magdelaine a quiet, neat, orderly room. An empty room. She turned to glare at the maid. "She isn't here!"

"No, mum. That's what I've been trying to tell you. She wasn't here when I came in to wake her for breakfast." The girl motioned toward the bed with one hand. "The nightdress I laid out for her last evening is still where I left it. She hasn't slept in her bed, mum."

"She hasn't... If she hasn't slept in her bed, where the bloody hell has she been all night?" Mary Magdelaine frowned, feeling all of the blood leave her face. She turned to face the girl, ignoring the way the child took a few steps back. "She's been acting quite strange lately. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary recently?"

"No, mum. I haven't. I..." The girl trailed off as a thought occurred to her. Her eyes went wide and she scrambled into the room, heading toward the jewelry chest on the dressing table. The maid lifted the lid and began sifting through the items that lay on the blue velvet. She must have found what she was looking for because she stopped and turned to face her employer. Something gold and purple lay in the palm of her hand, sunlight catching on it brightly. "The other day, when I was cleaning. I found this. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But now that I think on it, this looks like a man's pin, mistress."

Mary Magdelaine took the pin from the girl's hand and studied it carefully. She'd seen it somewhere before. She just couldn't quite recall where. Not at first, at least. But after thinking about it for a few moments, she suddenly realized where she'd last seen it. Eyes going wide with her thoughts, she curled her fingers around the expensive piece of jewelry and hurried from the room. "Mum?" Theresa asked after her, following Mary Magdelaine as she walked as fast as possible up the hallway. "Mum? What is it? Is there something amiss?"

Oh, there was plenty amiss. But she couldn't explain her suspicions to the girl. She loved her staff quite a bit and usually had no problems speaking with them at length about any number of subjects. However, she'd learned over the years that there were certain things that one didn't discuss in front of the help, and family matters topped that list. If she said anything to Theresa about what she thought was going on with Alexis, it would be all over town before the day was out. And then her family would be a laughing stock.

"Not a thing, my girl. I forgot that Alexis was going visiting with one of her oldest friends for a few days. Seeing as she'll be leaving for France after the wedding, she wanted to spend time with those people she's closest with before hand," Mary Magdelaine replied, offering up a silent prayer even as she spoke. Hopefully God wouldn't look upon her actions too poorly. It was a lie, of course, but only a small one. And one meant to protect everyone involved. The smile she gave Theresa was meant to be reassuring. She hoped that was how the other girl saw it.

"Very well then, mum. I'll go see to it that the gifts that started arriving this morning are taken up to Miss Alexis' room."

"Good lass. You do that." Mary Magdelaine nodded at the maid. Theresa dipped into a quick curtsey, then hurried off to do her daily chores. Sighing, Mary Magdelaine started up the hall for her private study. The sharp edges of the brooch bit into her palm as she tightened her hold on it.

She was sure that Theresa hadn't really believed her story. But the girl wasn't known for speculating, so the lie would hold. If only for a day or two. Hopefully long enough to find her wayward daughter and the young man she was sure Alexis was out... doing God only knew what with.

Of course she remembered the cocky stranger who had come up to the family to offer his congratulations to Alexis and Mister LeBeau. How could she forget such a fine looking young man? And how could she forget that he'd paid attention to Alexis and no one else? How could she forget that Alexis had seemed genuinely pleased to see him? Mary Magdelaine had never seen the boy before. She didn't have a name for him. But she was going to find out just exactly who the hell he was.

She took the pin into her room and carefully stowed it away in one of her desk's drawers. She would deal with Alexis' willful ways the very moment the girl showed her face. There was a thin, wispy branch on one of the trees in the back that would make a perfect switch. And she'd apply it with extreme prejudice, even if it meant that Alexis' corsets would pain her for days to come. She'd always known that there was a wild streak living in her youngest child, but she'd never dared dream that Alexis would do something so shocking as run off with a strange man. And only a day before her wedding! What was the silly girl thinking?

There was one thing that she knew she had to do. She had to find her daughter and bring her home before she could do anything that would embarrass the family. And as quietly as possible. Turning around, she headed out of her room and went back up the hall toward her sons' rooms. She rapped her knuckles sharply against the closed wooden panel, quite aware that Cullen would still be abed at this hour. The boy spent all of his time doing things gentlemen never admitted to doing. She'd be terribly happy when the boy decided to stop sowing his wild oats and settle down with a nice Catholic girl.

"Cullen! Get your lazy self out of bed! I have something I need you to do! If you aren't up and moving in five minutes, I'll let myself in and it won't matter to me if you're dressed or not!"

There was a muffled voice from the other side of the door, then a thump. In less than a minute, Cullen had the door open and stared at her with sleepy eyes. "What, Ma? Can't a man get a decent night's sleep around here?"

She snorted at him. "Stop your whining, boy. I have a task for you. One that requires your abilities as a sneak." Her words saw him waking up a little further. He stepped back and motioned for her to enter his room. She waited for him to close the door after her before she spoke again. "You remember the stranger from Alexis' engagement party? The one that seemed overly friendly?"

Cullen took a moment to think about her question. "I do. Alexis seemed quite taken with him."

"That's the one," Mary Magdelaine replied. "I need you to find out who he is. Not only that, but where to find him. And then I need you to go to his home and beat the ever loving tar out of him."

Cullen blinked at her, but he said nothing. Finally, his gaze cleared and he frowned. The nod he gave her told her that he understood. And he'd see to it that her orders were carried out. Mary Magdelaine smiled and patted his cheek.

Just wait until Alexis came home.

~*~*~*~*~

Clinton let the steady, slow turn and creak of the wheels calm his racing nerves as the carriage moved ever closer to the meeting place with Alexis. She'd chosen the road where they'd met for a good reason. It was barely traveled by any but the roughest of characters. Or the most desperate. It was a thief's road, one where those foolish enough to travel without protection ultimately met an untimely end. The moral character of the men who haunted this road was such that these men were guaranteed a place in Hell.

He was almost completely certain that he knew what answer Alexis would give him. He'd seen it in her eyes when they'd been alone in the garden early that morning. She was going to break her engagement and dishonor her family for him. The very notion humbled him. He'd been thinking up scenarios since he'd risen, trying to come up with some plausible way to keep that from happening. Much as he disliked the idea, Alexis' family was going to have to think she'd died. It was likely the only way he could get her away from her coming wedding and keep her family from being shamed.

There was a fire burning inside of him, one of hope and of joy, that he hadn't felt in centuries. It had been a very long time since he'd allowed himself to hope that a woman, a mortal would ever want to have anything to do with him once they'd discovered his secret. Of course there were mortals like those that served as food for the vampires back at that lair. But they were little more than pets. And none of them had ever caught his attention. Perhaps it was because they were too eager. Perhaps it was because he only saw cattle when he looked at them. He didn't know what it was. He only knew that there was something about the pets that made him shy away from even allowing any kind of attachment to grow.

He'd spent far too many years alone. Far too many years thinking that there would never be a single soul in the world who would see him as a man and not as a monster. He'd honestly given up hope of ever finding someone like that. There had been one or two women in his earlier days that he'd thought would be strong enough. He'd been proven wrong and it had played havoc on his heart and his mind. Lady Miriam was correct in the assumption that he would close himself off completely, for good, if Alexis denied him. The idea that she still might made him nervous and that was an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. Not since he'd been in France to fight a war.

He wanted Alexis with a fierceness that frightened him. Despite his near certainty that she would say yes and join him, there was a small part of him that worried she'd tell him she'd decided to remain living and mortal. That she would marry the Frenchman and leave him forever. He wasn't sure what would happen to him if she made that choice. He was relatively certain that, if she chose that path, his life would be over.

He'd grown rather attached to it over the centuries. She had to say yes.

He wasn't aware that anything was dreadfully wrong until he realized that the carriage was no longer moving. He cursed himself for letting his thoughts blind him to his surroundings and he made to climb from the carriage in order to discover why the driver had stopped. And that was when it hit him.

The stench of death, of rot and decay, hung heavy on the air. Something had happened here and he would have to investigate it before he could meet up with Alexis. He hoped that she didn't take his tardiness as a change in his feelings for her. He saw this as a serious inconvenience and would much rather be at her side than looking for someone to run through. Hand curling around the hilt of his sword, he put his hand on the door's handle and rose in preparation of exiting the carriage. And that was when another scent, one not quite so strong and powerful as death, hit his nose.

His heart seized in his chest.

The soft, powdery scent of talc. The gentle, sweet aroma of tea rose. They lay nearly buried under the cloying smell of death. Under the strong stench of shit and piss that the body released upon dying. Under the pungent, metallic tang of mouldering blood that stained the fresh night air. He cursed himself a fool for not paying attention, for not using the bond he'd created with her before to seek her out. To ensure that she was well. To ensure she was still alive.

He sought that connection now, even as he threw himself from the carriage to survey the area. There was little moonlight to see by, the canopy created by growing tree branches blocking out much of the night sky. The driver was already on the ground, his sword in one hand and the lantern from the side of the carriage in the other. The golden light was dim, but it didn't matter. With his enhanced eye sight, Clinton could see even the tiniest scuff in the dirt.

Outside of the carriage, the air was thicker. Heavier. It was understandable, considering there were five corpses scattered across the surface of the road. Each one's skin had gone pale and waxy with death. Even in the darkness, he could see the black stains on their clothes where a blade had pierced their bodies. Someone had done well in ending their lives and, for just a second or two, he praised Alexis' work. Then he realized that the smell of her unique scent was strengthening. As was the blood that mingled with it.

Clint glanced to the driver and gave a nod of his head. The driver set about moving the corpses off the road and stripping them of anything of value. As he did so, Clinton studied the ground with a discerning eye, tracing the path of the fight based on the shifting foot steps in the softer dirt at the road's edge. One set seemed to be confined to the center of a circle, and there were many prints made by the same feet moving around as if the owner had been pivoting to keep their enemies in sight.

A trail of blood, black as pitch in the low light, drew his eyes to the grass that lined the road. It took him to a thick growth of bushes. More blood painted the leaves, dried and tacky against the surface. An inhalation told him that the blood belonged to Alexis. Clinton's mind went in search of hers, found nothing more than a dim fog of distant pain. Panic flared inside of him, tried to swallow him whole. He beat it down with sheer force of will and let his ears seek out any sounds in the area.

At first, he heard nothing. Then he caught the faint thump of a slowing heart. The rasp of uneven breath. A slight sound of fingers sliding against cloth. His eyes found the crushed section of the bushes. Someone had gone through them forcefully, breaking off twigs and leaves as they did so. He took a breath and caught a whiff of infection. Dear God in Heaven.

Turning his head, he caught the attention of his driver and wordlessly made him aware of his plans. The man nodded and brought his sword up into a defensive position. All of the bodies had been cleared away, left to rot behind some small trees on the other side of the road. Any gear he'd taken from them was already stowed inside the carriage. Clinton drew a breath and heaved it out, swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, and stepped around the bushes. The entire time, he hoped that he would not find what his senses told him he would find.

Alexis lay sprawled in the dirt, body twisted at an odd angle. It looked as if she'd tried to crawl away and hadn't been able to manage it. He could see dirt under her nails and the bloodied blade of her sword only a few scant inches from her hand. Her cloak was twisted around her body, the hood back far enough for him to see the line of her cheek and the edge of her nose. Her lips were nearly bloodless, open as she gasped faintly for air. He sheathed his sword and moved to her side, careful not to touch her for fear of making her hurt more than she did. "Alexis? Alexis, my sweet? Can you hear me?"

Her eye fluttered open and stared up at him. He wasn't sure she actually saw him, but it appeared she was attempting to focus on him. Her fingers twitched. "Clinton?"

"I'm here, my sweet. I've come for you."

"I'm sorry. It looks like I won't be able to go with you after all," she whispered, trying to force a smile. The smile didn't come. But she coughed and her lips were stained black in the shadows. Oh, God. She was dying.

"Do not say such things. I'll nurse you back to health," he promised her. "I'll take you to the lair and care for you until your wounds heal. Then you can give me your decision."

There was no answer, her eye slipping shut as what little energy she had faded away. There wasn't much time. He could tell simply by listening to her heart. By taking in the way she smelled. He whispered a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening, asking that they give him time to save her. He'd always been led to believe that vampires were damned creatures, that they'd given up their soul to become what they were. He wanted to believe that to be a lie. He desperately needed it to be a lie, because only the help of a god, any god, would keep her alive until they reached the lair. Until he could find a way to save her.

"I need a blanket," he called, his hands already shifting her over onto her back. Even in the shadows, he could see the dirt and grass clinging to the wound in her belly. His blood ran cold at the sight of it. A gut wound was a slow death. A guaranteed death. Anger and frustration rose up within him. She'd been here for hours. He could tell by the way the scene smelled. She'd lain in the grass for hours and waited to die. And there was nothing he could have done to help her. The fight that saw her injured must have happened after he'd dropped her on the road. By the time the carriage had passed through the walls into the castle's yard, it was nearly dawn. He'd had to seek his rest for the day. "And turn the carriage around. We ride for the lair at all speed."

She was cold to the touch. Not the cold of a corpse, but the cold of a body that was edging ever closer to the deep, dark abyss of death. Her head lolled limply against his shoulder, her limbs like jelly. "Please, Alexis. Do not leave me yet. I have need of you." The plea was whispered into her hair as he hurried for the carriage. The driver was waiting with the blanket, still neatly folded. He settled it on Alexis' abdomen, then took hold of her while Clinton climbed into the carriage. When he was settled, the driver handed her up to him and closed the door securely after them.

The carriage rocked as the driver took his seat. The reins slapped softly against the horses' rumps and the conveyance jerked before starting forward. Clinton held Alexis close to him and fought against the fear that was trying to swallow him whole. He'd seen this kind of wound before, many times, on the battlefields of Europe. Back when he'd still been living. They never ended well for the person who had been injured. God above, he couldn't let it happen. Not to her. He didn't even think about what he was doing. Just opened himself up and called out with his mind. My Lady!

Clinton? What is it? You sound distressed. Her answer came swift and strong. He heard the undercurrent of her concern. Has the girl let you down?

Fetch the surgeon. Prepare a chamber. Please. He curled himself over the girl in his arms and pressed his head against her shoulder. She's injured, my Lady. I'm afraid she's dying.

~*~

Clinton paced the spacious room restlessly, mind constantly reaching for the bond even though he knew it was only a faint memory. Alexis had lost so much blood. She hadn't stirred during the race back to the lair, despite the fact that he'd talked to her the entire way. Her heartbeat had been too faint, her breathing too shallow. Her chances too slim. It hadn't mattered then, his heart holding out hope that she could be saved. It didn't matter now, his mind knowing that there was no real death unless he stood by and did nothing. That was the practical side of him, the vampiric side of him. The human side of him, a side he hadn't had occasion to access in so very long, hoped beyond hope that the surgeon could save her.

Anger rose within him, clawed at his blackened heart and soul with the sharp, deadly talons of a hunting bird. Anger and guilt, because he knew this was his fault. He never should have let her convince him to drop her on the road. He should have stayed with her and insisted on escorting her to her front door. She would have been safe then. No one would have tried to kill her. She wouldn't by lying in the other room. She wouldn't be dying.

She wouldn't be yours.

He shoved the thought aside. He could have kept them from being discovered, could have used his power to ensure that she was returned safely to her room without anyone taking note of their presence. He could have. He should have. He should have pledged to see her safely to her door. It was something that had been demanded of him once upon a time, back when he'd been a knight in every sense of the word. It had been part of his training. Part of a code of conduct and honor that all knights had been expected to follow. He'd let his training go lax, let his own personal code languish under the guise of new times and new thoughts and people who had forgotten what chivalry was. They could only forget chivalry if they were allowed to do so.

A pause in his pacing allowed him to glance out of the tall, leaded glass window before him and take in the clear night sky hanging over the castle, Stars twinkled down at him, tiny pin points of brilliant white against the velvety darkness. For most of his life, he'd been told that immortality was his. To do with as he pleased. And he'd mostly made peace with the idea that said immortality would be spent alone. That hadn't stopped him hoping that it would be a centuries long life lived without the touch of a loving hand against his brow, without a soft woman at his side. He'd almost had it a time or two, but the dream had shattered painfully. And then he'd met Alexis. A woman so unlike any other that he'd known instantly she was the one for him. He'd tasted the sweet, sweet joy that came with finding that one perfect soul to match your own.

Because he'd been foolish and arrogant, she lay dying in the other room. He didn't care what it mean to whatever was growing between them. He refused to lose her.

He turned to begin his pacing again, only to find that he was no longer alone in the room. Lady Miriam lounged in a plush chair, watching him with shrewd eyes. She hadn't been there only moments ago. She and Lord Phillip had been waiting for the carriage when it had rumbled noisily into the castle's yard, as had several servants and lower ranked members of the coven. They'd all rushed to do Lady Miriam's bidding almost before the carriage had rolled to a halt. She'd told Clinton that the room immediately across from Clinton's was prepared and the surgeon was waiting for them there. He'd thanked her before starting out for the appointed chambers. And, until that moment, he hadn't seen her again.

When she saw that she had his attention, she rose from her chair and glided toward him. He watched her come, knew that she wouldn't let him escape her now that she had him in her sights. If there was anything he'd learned about Lady Miriam, it was that she was very straight forward and she would always speak her mind. Even if he didn't want her to. "Clinton, you mustn't blame yourself for what's happened. She's a headstrong young lady. She was going to do as she pleased. This is one of the things you find so appealing about her."

"I should have been there to protect her," he replied stubbornly.

"Would she have let you, my sweet?" There was a faint hint of laughter in her voice. She reached him, her hand lifting to rest on his arm, a sure and solid weight that kept him grounded when he wanted nothing more than to fly apart. She came to stand before him and the pressure of her hand on his arm was gone. Second later, both of her palms cupped his cheeks. "She's as headstrong as you. She will have done nothing different than has already passed. Do not lay blame at your feet for something that is not your fault."

"And if she dies because I wasn't there? You'll tell me that isn't my fault, either?"

She smiled at him, soft and gentle. "If she dies, my sweet, it will be because the mortals made a fatal mistake." Her tone slid from caring to cold in the blink of an eye and he found himself staring at the ruthless side of his Lady. It could be a frightening transformation for those who didn't know her as well as he did. Even so, to see it happen now was slightly discomforting. "It isn't one they're likely to repeat." The last was said with a smile that showed every inch of fang the woman possessed.

"My Lady?" he asked, curious and uncertain.

Lady Miriam gave full throated laugh, tossed her head back so that the long length of her fiery curls tumbled in a cascade of blood toward the floor. "My beloved husband is, even as we speak, meeting with the hunters. He is instructing them that they should spread out across the land, seek out any and all that are responsible for what has happened to Alexis or that even know a whisper of what passed on that road. They will pay, because she is as much one of our own as you or any of the coven. You marked her. That means we marked her, Clinton. We do not take well to people who would abuse that which is ours."

"You didn't-- " he began, only to fall silent when the door to the bed chamber opened. The surgeon, an aged man with thinning grey hair and a perpetually tired look on his face, stepped out of the room. He was careful to close the door behind him, his hand lingering on the knob as he reached up to pat away the perspiration beading up on his skin with a much used handkerchief. Clinton didn't like the way he was moving. Or the fact that the man wouldn't look at him.

"Doctor. How is she?" Lady Miriam asked.

"I've done all I can, my Lady. Unfortunately, its been too long since the injury occurred. She's lost far too much blood and the wound is infected from dirt and grass. Perhaps even because the weapon used to stab her was dirty. I can't say for sure." The surgeon heaved a sigh and lifted his head to stare at them. His eyes showed every last ounce of regret the man felt. Clinton's heart dropped to his feet. "I'm sorry. I suggest you spend what time you can with her. I don't believe she'll survive the night. The damage is just too extensive and I'm only human. I've given her some laudanum to make her comfortable. I'm afraid there's nothing more to be done for her."

"Thank you for all of your help, Doctor. Please. Feel free to retire for the rest of the evening." Lady Miriam walked with the surgeon to the door, speaking to him quietly. Clinton could listen in if he so chose, but his mind was elsewhere, so he turned away from them and made for the other room.

The door opened on silent hinges to a sleeping chamber done in cool shades of blue and green. The furniture was ancient, heavy wood with intricate carvings and a deep stain. It was all matched, a full set that had been in the castle since the coven had moved into it. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, warm and cheerful and mocking of the touch of Death that hung about the room. He made his way to the bed and stared down at her face, took in the paleness of her cheeks and the slight sprinkling of moisture on her brow.

She looked like she was merely sleeping.

Someone had cleaned her up and dressed her in a clean, plain white night dress that was almost the same color as her skin. The bedding was pulled up to her chest, her hands laying limp and lifeless on top of it. Her hair lay spread across the pillow behind her. He carefully settled on the edge of the bed and reached for one of her hands. The doctor was right. She didn't have much time left...

~*~*~*~*~

Clinton was sitting on the edge of the bed when Phillip escorted Miriam into the room. She'd summoned him after sending the doctor off, knowing instinctively that the situation was about to get quite sticky. Her husband stood at her side and took in the dejected slope of Clinton's shoulders. Because she could smell the faint hints of death and decay that clogged the air, she knew Phillip could smell them, too. She hated that the girl was going to die when Clinton had only just found her. She hated to see the young man so lost and desolate. She sent a searching gaze her husband's way. She could see a hint of memory ghosting through his eyes.

She gave him a pleading look. Phillip. Go talk to the boy. I don't think there's anything more I can do for him. I hate to see him like this.

He didn't shake his head or heave a sigh. He didn't do anything that suggested he thought she was out of her mind. He simply stared at her, let her see the ghosts that crowded his gaze. And she knew, without having to ask, that he was recalling a time when it had been she who had been dying. A time when he'd sat at her side and held her hand and waited for the inevitable. A time when he'd been powerless to do anything. She reached out her hand, cupping his cheek in the palm of it. I've watched him fret over her while the doctor looked at her wound. I've felt his worry and his fear grow inside of him. I've felt the failing hope and the strengthening sorrow. I've seen the desolation on his face. I don't think I ever quite realized just what it was like. Not until now.

What are you talking about, Miriam? he asked her, his body shuffling forward to close the slight distance between them. He mirrored her move, his hand lifting up so that he could cup her cheek in his palm.

I never before realized how terribly difficult it must have been for you to sit back and watch me die when you knew there was nothing you could do to help me. I am so sorry, my love.

His smile was soft and tender. He leaned down to drop a kiss on her lips, a gesture of promise and happiness. Give us a bit of privacy, love, would you? This is a talk that perhaps we should have man to man. Miriam nodded and smiled. Phillip watched as she drifted back toward the door. She was partially hidden in the shadows. And while she had moved a good distance from them, he knew she could still hear anything they said. He wouldn't keep that from her. Her love for Clinton drove her actions and they both knew that. But being across the room from them would at least give the appearance of privacy.

She watched as Phillip moved closer to Clinton, his actions mild and deliberate. It was a call back to the man he'd been, once upon a time, before Death had stalked them to their door. Despite his centuries of life as a vampire and the power she knew he held, he enjoyed making others think that he wasn't as powerful as a vampire Lord was supposed to be. Lulling his future victims into complacency was one of Phillip's favorite pastimes. With Clinton, however, it was nothing more than Phillip being himself, intent on offering solace to a friend in need. Or a father consoling a son.

He reached out and laid a hand on Clinton's shoulder, a silent show of support that the younger man barely acknowledged. "Clinton," he began.

"If you've come to inform me that none of this is my fault, my Lord, perhaps 'twould be best if you saved your breath. We both know that I could have prevented this from happening," Clinton muttered softly.

Phillip glanced at her over his shoulder, then heaved a deep sigh. "Aye. You could have. But you chose to return home to allow her the opportunity to think through all she'd learned without your presence at her side to confuse her. What's done is done, Clinton. You cannot change the past. You can only consider what will happen in the present."

"She's dying. There is nothing beyond that. She has no future."

"If you truly believed that, you would never have tried to save her. You would have left her to die in the dirt like some common criminal."

"I promised her I'd let her make that decision," he replied quietly. Miriam cocked her head to the side, her heart aching for him. Even with her death staring him in the face, Clinton was doing his best to remain honorable. "She said it looked as if she wouldn't be able to come with me after all. She decided against accepting my offer."

"How do you know this for sure, Clinton? The girl is trained in the art of war. She knows a death blow when she sees one. Isn't it likely that she said that to you because she knew the extent of her wounds?"

The way the man held himself, the lack of immediate answer, told Miriam that Clinton hadn't thought that. He'd honestly believed Alexis was turning him down. She wanted to go to them and tug Clinton into her embrace, wanted to hug the pain away and assure him that Alexis wanted nothing more than to spend her days with him.

"You have a decision to make, Clinton. Now. Before more time passes. Before she slips too far into Death's hands." Phillip's voice was soft and quiet. But it was no less demanding. Clinton lifted his head and stared up at Phillip.

"You're asking me to take the choice from her." The man's jaw tightened.

"If you don't, she'll die. She'll be beyond this world and any help we can give her." Phillip's tone was frank. Miriam couldn't hear it in his voice or see it in the lines of his shoulders, but she could feel the lingering traces of his own fear from a time when he'd had to watch her die and he'd been unable to do anything to help her. He was going to do everything he could to keep Clinton from going through that same situation. She hoped that Phillip got through to him. Soon. "You have an option I never had, Clinton. Do not waste the opportunity or the gift of time that's being offered to you."

Clinton carefully returned Alexis' hand to the bedding before rising to his feet and turning so that he could stare at both of them. "You're suggesting that I put her through the change without asking her if its something she can live with." There was no accusation in his voice. Just tired curiosity and a general sense of hopelessness. He was on the verge of giving up. Miriam stepped out of the shadows and crossed to where the two men stood.

"She cares for you deeply, Clinton. So deeply. I know you wish to ask her whether she wishes to do this or not, but you heard what the doctor said. She doesn't have much time at all. The longer you wake, the less likely the change will take."

His eyes slid back to the dying woman's face. "Look at her. She's already weak. And she grows weaker by the minute."

"Then you haven't much time, Clinton," Phillip told him.

"And if I start the change and its too much for her? Then I will be to blame for her death as surely as if I stabbed her myself."

"If you do nothing? What then?" Miriam questioned softly. She saw the indecision on him and closed the distance, laid a hand against his arm. "I know this is the worst thing in the world we could ask of you. If you would rather, one of us can do it."

"No." Clinton's tone was firm and final. Terse. He paused and swallowed, unclenching his hands from the tight fists he'd curled them into. He turned a troubled blue gaze their way. "No. If anyone should do this... I'm the one who started all of this. I should be the one to finish it."

Miriam nodded and tugged him gently into her arms. "You can do this, my sweet. If you want, Phillip and I will leave you alone."

Clinton looked from her face to Phillips, then down to Alexis' pale face. After several long seconds of nothing, he finally shook his head. "No. I want you both here. You became my family when you brought me into the coven. I couldn't be so crude as to send you away when I'm bringing someone else into the coven." He returned his gaze their way. "Besides, you know I've never done this before. I don't want to make a mistake."

Phillip smiled and clapped Clinton on the shoulder. "Of course we'll stay."

Miriam was prepared to send for some of the pets to act as a refresher for Clinton, but a knock on the door stopped her silent call. A moment later, the panel swung open wide to allow a pair of pets into the room. She sent a smile her husband's way and motioned for the two men to take seats on the lounging sofa near the hearth. They made no noise as they moved and took their places. Then she turned her attention back to Clinton.

She was surprised to find that he'd slipped out of his favored tunic to leave his chest bare. Miriam took a moment to appreciate the ripple and flow of muscle as he moved around the bed, then climbed into it. Gently, of course. He did his best not to disturb Alexis any more than he needed to. Settling at her side, he stared down at her face for several seconds. A heavy sigh filled the air before he slid his hands under her shoulders and carefully pulled her up against him. Despite his care and the laudanum that the doctor had given him, she moaned with pain when he moved her.

Clinton put his mouth next to her ear so that he could whisper into it. "I'm so sorry, Alexis. This wasn't at all what I'd intended." He reached up with one hand to brush her hair away from her neck, ran his fingers over the big vein just under the skin. Miriam saw his lips press against her skin, a quick, chaste kiss of apology and hope. When he lifted away, she saw his mouth open to expose his fangs. The glimpse was gone in a flash as he lowered his head. Despite her drugged slumber, Alexis' body responded to the pain by tensing ever so slightly. Then Clinton was in her head, soothing her so that she relaxed into his hold once more.

His throat worked as he swallowed down her blood and he drank deeply.

~*~*~*~*~

Cullen was just climbing the stairs when Mary Magdelaine found him. She held a lantern in her hand, her dressing gown closed from her throat to her feet. It had taken her forever to convince Brendan to sleep, his mind turning on Alexis' wedding the way a rabbit was turned on a spit. She'd been afraid that he wouldn't rest at all and had actually considered bringing him a glass of brandy spiked with a touch of laudanum to coax him to sleep. But Brendan had eventually drifted off and she'd hurried to meet up with Cullen. The boy hadn't been home all day and she'd sent a note telling her he'd be returning with information before the clock struck twelve.

She saw the look on his face and sighed, then motioned that he should turn around and head right back down to the first floor. He sighed, nodded his head, and turned around. She followed him down, then passed him by and led him toward Brendan's study. No one would disturb them there if any of the staff happened to get up and see a light burning under the door. Brendan was known for working long, late hours and he despised being disturbed.

When the door was closed behind them, Mary Magdelaine moved to take a seat in one of the stiff, high-back chairs that rested before the desk. Cullen mirrored her and sat in her chair's twin. "I'm sorry, Mother. I looked everywhere."

"You couldn't find a single sign of this man? No one who knew his name or where he came from?" she asked.

"I've been all over town, Mum. I've been in every pub and alehouse I could find. I visited all of the gentlemen's clubs. I even took it upon myself to speak to some of the higher classed whores. Not a single person I spoke to claims to know of him. Its almost as if he doesn't exist. No one can recall seeing him. I even took a chance and asked some of my mates, those who were at the party and saw him. They haven't got a damned clue who he is. Its like the man's a ghost."

Mary Magdelaine wanted to take him to task for going where he did, talking to whom he'd talked to. But she couldn't. Cullen looked worn down and paper thin, his face lined with exhaustion and worry. She had no doubt he'd figured out why she'd asked him to go looking for the strange young man, which meant he understood that something had happened to his sister. As much as her sons had always done whatever they could to make Alexis' life a special kind of hell, that did nothing to take away from the fact that all four of her boys loved their little sister and wanted nothing harmful to befall her. Cullen obviously saw his inability to discover the name and home of the strange man as a failure. Not only to his mother, but his sister.

She reached across the distance between them and patted one of his hands. "Don't be too hard on yourself, boy. You've obviously done everything to find out the man's name. You look dead on your feet. Did you eat while you were out looking for this rogue?"

"I had a nip around lunchtime, Mum. But nothing more."

"Then you should make your way to the kitchen and find something to tide you over until breakfast, Cullen."

"Yes, Mum," he nodded and made to rise. But then a curious expression showed on his face and he sagged back into the chair. "There was something, but... I don't know how much it would pertain to Alexis. Just seems odd that the day she goes missing, strangers would be mucking about town, stirring things up."

"Just a moment, Cullen," she said, blinking at the news. "Strangers? What kind of strangers? What kind of things were they stirring up?"

Cullen gave the question some thought, obviously trying to recall everything about the situation. Finally, he frowned and shook his head. "They weren't any people I've ever seen before. They were dressed a little off and they looked pale as death. They didn't seem like dangerous people, but there was this air to them all. Almost like a warning. It made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle up when they came into the pub. The spent a good deal of time talking to the rougher looking blokes in the place. I didn't want to have anything to do with them. After they left, I heard some of the others discussing their visit."

"What were they in the pub for?" she asked. Instinct told her that this strange event had something to do with Alexis' disappearance. Maybe the men had something to do with the stranger from the party. It was a place to start.

"Seems they were looking for thieves and ruffians who traveled the roads at night. Based on what I heard, there was a big fight out on the Thieves' Road last night. Someone found five dead bodies. They left with a warning that anyone who had any ties to the dead had better hope that these strange fellows didn't find them." Cullen looked at her, eyes filled with confusion. "What could these strangers possibly want with a bunch of dead thieves? And why are they coming in now? Everyone I talked to said they've never seen those gents before. Why would they show up in town after Alexis has gone missing?"

"I couldn't begin to guess, Cullen," Mary Magdelaine shook her head absently, mind already turning over all possibilities. The room was silent for a few moments, then Cullen's hand touched hers.

"Mum?" he asked, drawing her thoughts back to him.

"Oh. I'm sorry, my boy. Go find something to eat, then get some sleep. I may need to send you out again as soon as the sun comes up." Cullen nodded and rose to his feet. After one last look toward her, he made for the door and left her to her thoughts.

There was definitely something going on. Mary Magdelaine was not so ignorant that she couldn't. Alexis had been acting increasingly odd as the days moved nearer and nearer her wedding date. Mary Magdelaine hadn't missed the girl's sluggishness in the morning. She'd seen the dark circles under her daughter's eyes. She knew Alexis had been up to something, but she couldn't be sure what it was. She'd never outright caught the girl doing anything untoward or embarrassing. Which only made it that much more painful to think that Alexis would run off on the day before her wedding, that she'd choose some stranger over a fine man like Monsieur LeBeau. She'd always felt her daughter understood her place in the world.

From the time Alexis had been a small child, she'd been slightly... off. It hadn't been something the girl had presented in actions, but Mary Magdelaine had seen it anyway. Had known it was there. She'd hoped that marrying the girl off to someone who would keep her busy with his manly rights and a growing brood of children would rid Alexis of that slightly off aspect. She'd been certain the girl understood her duty to her family and that she would never have done anything to dishonor them. So just what the bloody hell had happened?

Time was pressing in on her shoulders, making her feel old before her time. She'd hoped to have this resolved before the sun rose on such a momentous day. But she was starting to see that her child wasn't going to return home. Which meant that Mary Magdelaine had quite a bit of explaining to do.

She prayed that the Frenchman would understand.

~*~

The sun was barely above the horizon when Mary Magdelaine ascended the steps to the bright red door. She'd gotten dressed early and demanded that a driver take her to LeBeau's place of residence, It was a grand home on the outer edge of town, one of the finer summer estate homes that the rich liked to use to escape the hustle and bustle of the big cities. All of the curtains were drawn against the morning sun, giving her nothing to go on. She wasn't sure how the man was going to take her news, but it was her duty and responsibility as Alexis' mother to deliver the blow.

Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, she lifted a gloved hand to knock at the door. Her morning dress was stylish, if a little plain. But it was the best she owned and, therefore, appropriate to wear when calling upon her once future son-in-law. She rapped her knuckles soundly against the garishly painted door, then settled in to wait for someone to answer it.

It was a good two minutes before she heard the sound of the locks turning from the other side of the door. Then the knob turned and a distinguished looking gentleman opened the door to peer at her. "Oui?" he asked, his accent perfectly French. Mary Magdelaine gave him her best stoic expression.

"I've come to see Monsieur LeBeau. Please inform him that Mary Magdelaine Quinn is here to speak with him," she informed the man. For a second or two, he only stood there and blinked at her owlishly. She had no time for this, so she waved one hand at him in the manner one would use to shoo a fly. "Go on. I must see him immediately. It is a matter of some importance."

"Of course, madam," the man replied, then stepped back from the door. He made a motion with one arm the suggested she step inside. "If you would be so kind?"

Mary Magdelaine gave him a bright smile and swept into the well kept, highly polished entry hall. She let her gaze slide over the elegant pieces of art that decorated table tops and the paintings on the wall. Then the manservant was showing her across the floor toward a door that opened up off the entry hall. It was a receiving room at the back of the house, and the back wall of windows allowed the weak morning light to pour into the room in great waves. It gave the room the feeling of warmth and welcome. "Can I get you something, madam? Tea or juice?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you," Mary Magdelaine replied. The man bowed to her, then left the room. The door remained standing open, as if someone was going to peek in from time to time to make sure she wasn't stealing the silver. She ignored that and moved to stand before the floor to ceiling windows. There were a pair of doors opening out into the back yard. Beyond, she could see dainty, wrought iron tables and chairs done in ornate styles. There were expansive gardens filled with many different flowers and bushes. Trees spread their branches invitingly over cobbled paths. There was also the hint of a fountain somewhere amidst all of the greenery.

"Good morning, Madam Quinn," LeBeau's rich voice entered the room before he did. She turned to find him watching her with shrewd blue eyes. He was attired in a fine linen shirt and a pair of midnight black trousers. He had left off a waist coat or a cravat so that he seemed positively naked. It was unseemly and rather wicked. She managed to find him a smile, then stepped forward to offer him her hand. He deposited a kiss upon it and the smile he gave her was devilishly handsome. "What brings you to my home at such an early hour? Don't tell me you couldn't have waited for the wedding to see me."

"Actually, my Lord, the wedding is what brings me here," she admitted. He must have heard something in her voice, or her face had given something away, because his smile melted away into a confused, concerned frown.

"Has something happened?" he asked. The servant who had let her into the house returned with a tray in hand. A delicate china pot rested upon it, along with a pair of matched cups. A bowl for sugar and one for cream accompanied the setting. Monsieur LeBeau motioned toward a pair of seats, inviting her to sit with him. He was ever the gentleman and helped her down into her seat before taking his own. Then the manservant laid the tray before them on a table and disappeared. The door closed behind him, leaving them alone.

Mary Magdelaine made herself busy by pouring the tea. The handsome lord took his without cream or sugar. She couldn't help it and dropped a pair of cubes into her own cup. To help settle her nerves. She waited until they'd both taken a sip of their tea, then she carefully returned her cup and saucer to the table. "I'm afraid we may have to call off or even postpone the wedding, my dear," she admitted softly.

He blinked at her, a slow thing that seemed to clear away a glimpse of... something lurking in the depths of his blue eyes. Then he leaned forward to return his own cup and saucer to the table top. When he sat back, he didn't seem surprised or even upset. Instead of demanding to know what kind of game she was playing, he steepled his hands together before him and gave her a contemplative look. "What has happened that we must do something so serious?"

"I... am not entirely certain, sir," she admitted hesitantly. As she spoke, she reached into her reticule and let her fingers curve over the hard length of the brooch she'd dropped in it before leaving the house. "Yesterday morning, the chamber maid came to me and let me know that Alexis wasn't in her bed and, in fact, hadn't slept in it. She has not been home since, sir. And I cannot even begin to guess where she is. I've sent messages round to some of her friends but no one seems to know where she is. I've even sent my son out to look for her, but so far... We've found nothing."

He studied her for several long moments before something that wasn't quite a smile curled up the corners of his mouth. "But you have suspicions, do you not?" he asked her.

"I have a few, sir. But I'm not sure I should allow my personal feelings to cloud the events that occur around me."

"Of which events do you speak?"

"The stranger at the engagement party. The one that Alexis couldn't seem to take her eyes off. There was something about him that I cannot put my finger on. But... I don't know." She shook her head and took a deep breath, then pulled the purple stick pin from her reticule. She couldn't miss the way the man's eyes latched onto the glittering piece of jewelry as it lay in her hand.

"Ah. And where did you find that, Madam?" he asked quietly. She knew the wheels were turning, knew that he, too, recognized the item.

"It was among Alexis' personal belongings."

"I see," he replied, voice low. He studied it a few more moments before reaching one hand out toward hers. "May I, Madam?"

"Of course, sir. I have no use for it. Perhaps you can figure out how this came to be in Alexis' jewelry chest. I have no clue." Not one she wanted to think upon at any great length.

"I don't want you to worry at all, Madam Quinn. I shall put my own team of men to work looking for Alexis. Perhaps, together, we can discover what has happened to her." There was a hint of warning in his tone.

Mary Magdelaine didn't know who she felt more sorry for. Alexis or her stranger.

~*~*~*~*~

The pub was filled with the lowest kind of humanity, men so lost in their cups that they didn't even notice it when he slipped into the dim interior and took a seat by the back wall. A tired looking barmaid sauntered over to his table to ask him what he wanted to drink. He considered ordered something more gentlemanly, then decided that this occasion called for something not quite so refined. "An ale would be fine, my dear," he replied. The warmth in his voice, or perhaps simply his manners, brought a smile to her face. She nodded and headed to the bar to fetch the requested beverage. The girl was back in a minute with the tankard and a smile.

He flirted with her for a few moments, then motioned her off as a man stepped into the pub and glanced around its interior. He lifted a hand and motioned the man his way because he was certain the newcomer was the reason he was there. The large man ambled over, drawing every eye in the place his way as he passed people by. The man stopped before his table and looked him up and down. "Mister LeBeau?" he asked.

"Oui," Remy nodded and made a gesture toward the empty chair across from him. The man took the seat, settling into it quietly. "And you are the hunter?"

"Steven Rogers. At your service," the man replied and swept the wide brimmed hat off of his head. Blonde hair that looked as if it had been kissed by the sun framed a handsome face. Bright blue eyes stared at him as the man sized him up. "I got your message, sir. But I don't know how I can be of help with your problem. I only hunt a particular prey."

Remy pulled a heavy purse from his cloak and laid it on the table, his hand resting on it. "I am told by several reliable sources that you are the best tracker in all of Europe. I was told to mention the Jenkins girl."

The last must have surprised the other man because a quick flash of shock slid across his face. Then it was hidden behind a mask of indifference. Remy might have believed it, but he'd learned all there was to know about Steven Rogers and he knew what it was that drove the man. "You've talked to some very knowledgeable people, it seems."

"I have," Remy replied quietly. He tapped his fingers against the leather wallet. "You see, monsieur, I do not believe this to be any simple case. My betrothed's mother has brought me a small amount of proof that suggests the girl was taken forcibly."

"Mister LeBeau," Rogers sighed, then broke off to shake his head when the serving girl sauntered their way. She frowned, just a hint of a downturn at the corners of her mouth, then turned and headed in the opposite direction. "I do not normally hunt kidnappers or thieves. I hunt a more elusive prey."

"I have heard the stories, monsieur," Remy replied. His smile was bitter, frosted with all of the conflicting emotions he'd felt since learning about the other man. "The people I have spoken to say you hunt nosferatu and other such creatures. Is this information incorrect?"

If Remy's knowledge of the man's activities stunned Rogers, the man was too well trained to let it show. Instead, he shrugged a shoulder while one hand moved to draw back the length of his coat. There were all manner of things caught in the loops, items that could be used as weapons. Even though it was a brief glimpse, Remy saw stakes made of wood and silver crosses. He even thought he saw little vials of water, but he couldn't be sure. The man let his coat fall closed and leaned on the table. "So if you know what it is I hunt, why have you come to me to look for your intended?" Rogers asked quietly.

"Because I am beginning to suspect that she was taken by one of these creatures. That seemed to get the man's attention. Rogers gave Remy a curious look that urged him to continue. "The other night at our engagement party, she was acting peculiar. And then this stranger arrives out of nowhere. He approached my fiancée to wish her well. I have to believe that he put her under some manner of spell because just yesterday morning, she vanished without a trace."

Rogers considered that for just a moment or so, then nodded his head. His expression was serious. Remy wasn't sure if he should believe this nonsense, but hadn't his faith taught him that a soul could be damned? If he was to believe that this was possible, he had to believe that it was possible for such creatures as the vampires to exist. And he had to believe that they were responsible for Alexis' disappearance. They were damned souls, intent on evil. She was a pure being and she needed to be saved.

"I don't come cheap, Mister LeBeau," Rogers told him. The man's voice was tense with deadly seriousness.

"I am a wealthy man, Monsieur Rogers. I am willing to spend whatever amount it will require to bring my beloved home to me."

"And are you prepared for what will need to be done if those creatures have perverted her?" the man asked quietly.

Remy watched the man for several long moments before he finally took his hand off the wallet and pushed it toward the hunter. "You worry about finding Alexis for me. I will worry about what happens when you do." He reached into his inner pocket once more and brought out a small scrap of cloth. It hit the table with a soft thunk. The material fell away to reveal a man's stick pin of gold. A large, dark amethyst glinted up at him. "This belonged to the man who took Alexis. Perhaps you can use it to track him down. And if not... keep it. I have no need for it."

Rogers nodded his head, scooped both the brooch and the wallet up, then rose and left without saying another word. Remy watched him go with a cold gleam in his eye. He would mourn Alexis' death, if that's what it came to. Of course he would. But he could find another wife.

The man responsible for taking her from him, though... That man was going to die.

~*~