“He’s not a vampire anymore, he’s nothing more than a body. A living body,” he says, lingering over the word ‘living’ as though it’s repugnant. Which, to him, it probably is.

“Great, so he’s a living husk. Now what?” I manage to rise to my feet and force myself to walk calmly back toward the body. It could be my imagination, but the longer our conversation progresses, the colder the room grows.

“I’m here as a representative,” Tadeo states calmly, back to pretending that we’re not having this discussion in a locked cell with no obvious exits, “and a peace offering.” I finally manage to get a good look at his eyes and I can…not. Breathe.

Like staring at Jupiter from a low orbit, his eyes are a chocolate, violet, vermillion and crimson storm of color that shifts from an amazing, human brown with orange starbursts creeping out from the iris to a purple storm slashed through with red and back again. I’ve only seen such lovely human eyes once before—and only in a half remembered fever dream—but I don’t let any of my inner turmoil show on my face as I fold my legs beneath me and sink to the floor next to the body.

“I’m listening,” this time when I place my hand

over his heart I feel a gentle, returned pressure that

makes me smile. If Tadeo sees my slight grin, he gives no

indication of it.

“We wish you to remove your power from his body and allow us to take him from here unmolested. Then you must promise to never use your power against us again,” he states their demands as if they’re entirely reasonable and I let loose a derisive snort. Nothing says ‘contempt’ like a well-practiced snort. I lift my hand until only one finger is in contact with his chest, before trailing swirls across his arms and torso. Reveling in the way that warm, friendly energy follows my movements, I don’t notice that Tadeo’s staring at me with a look of horror and revulsion etched into his perfectly crafted features.

“What do I get out of it,” I murmur, nuzzling into the now-warm leather cloak. Instead of smelling only like tanned cowhide, it smells faintly of spice and something…entirely masculine.

“You get your life, your truce and…me,” Tadeo manages to look chagrined when he says it. Whoever thought up this deal had never in their life heard of subtlety.

“So let me get this straight,” I say, smiling deviously, “I get to live something approximating a normal life as long as there’s a vampire probation officer tailing me between the hours of dusk and dawn? Are you serious?” I meet his gaze for a fraction of a second before turning back to the body.

“I have no say in the terms of this arrangement,” Tadeo growls and a barking laugh escapes before I can restrain myself. He stares down at me with one eyebrow quirked and I have to put my hand over my mouth because I can’t stop smiling.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” which—by the way—you should never say unless you’re absolutely sure that you’re not, "but it’s his fault that he’s like this. I didn’t DO anything.”

“Maybe not deliberately,” he concedes, “but we cannot allow you to do it again.”

I have to wonder, what is this wondrous ‘it’ they’re so afraid of? If a vampire is just a body— inhabited by a vampiric essence (which I call “the Beast”), a damned soul—then, somehow, I’ve chased the vampire out of the man on the floor. My power is animating him but though the lights are on, no one’s home. Except for the fact that there IS something in there and it likes me. Maybe his attempt to drain me actually reanimated his flesh by chasing the Beast out…

I raise my head slowly and study Tadeo from across the room. If my power is what I now believe it to be, and if objects respond to me by doing my will then it’s not just raw force I’m exerting when I explode doors or set things ablaze or melt forged metal. Which is terrifying; force wouldn’t be nearly as disturbing as being responsible for the gratitude of the elements themselves.

“What is your answer?” Tadeo asks again, startling me out of my reverie and I wrap the cloak more tightly around me. What I think…is that it’s time to get the hell out of here and his help comes with too many strings attached. “Will you withdraw your power from his body?” When he asks, a cold wind whips through the room and almost pulls the cloak off my shoulders. I’m starting to think that removing my power from the body is a distinctly bad idea, but I want it back if I’m going to have to try some ‘grand escape’ in the immediate future.

“If I do I get…” I leave the sentence dangling and Tadeo is all too eager to fill in the silence.

“Your life, your truce and me as your…companion,” I catch the slight hesitation of his voice and it’s slightly comforting to know that he may not adore the idea of being around a woman with no compunctions about killing vampires.

“I really don’t need a companion,”

Nothing about “want” darling girl? Mirari chides and is gone before I can shush her. Tadeo opens his mouth to protest and I continue,

“but I’ll take the deal just the same. How about getting the door open first?” He has the grace to look abashed before mumbling,

“They won’t open the door until you take your power back,” his eyes swirl with violet and chocolate and I feel my insides turn all melty. Maybe, just maybe, if I get a semblance of a life back I can have the luxury of a relationship…but I push the thought away far more easily than I manage to tear my eyes from his form-fitting black lace shirt.

“Then how do I know that they’ll open it AFTER I do…whatever,” it’s a perfectly reasonable question, but since when has any part of dealing with vampires been reasonable?

“This prison cannot hold me,” Tadeo’s smug reply makes me feel slightly better.

“Fine,” I sigh, plunking down beside the body and considering the best way to ‘take my power back.’ It’s an interesting problem—considering that I didn’t exactly give him my power in the first place—and I figure, what worked once could work again. I pull his ridiculous shirt of his pants, place my hands across his stomach and grin like I’ve just been given some absurdly good news. My power flows back into me effortlessly; like falling into the arms of a loved one, or coming home after a long absence.

Molten energy swirls up between my fingers, snakes up my arms and pools in the center of my chest. As more of my power is reclaimed I feel the force of it gathering in my chest until I feel like I’m a form made of wind; a vessel for that blinding, beautiful heat swirling within me. I fear that the fire would have consumed me if I had not been its originating point and I realize that it is as much me, as I am it.

Such moments are often cut short and this one was no exception. I feel the room go wintry cold only a split second before the Beast re-enters the Ancient’s body and his silver-white eyes snap open. In less than a heartbeat he leaps up, grabs me around the throat and begins throttling me.

“BITCH!” he thunders as he tries to claw his way past the lingering energy dancing across my skin. The Ancient tries to rend every necessary breathing apparatus in my throat but he can’t penetrate the veil of my renewed power and it’s a good thing too; ever since Mirari retreated to…wherever…I’ve been slowly losing my vampiric abilities.

“TADEO!” I manage to squeak just as the idea of kicking the Ancient occurs to me but he’s no longer in his corner and my vision’s starting to blur from asphyxia. I do manage to wedge a leg between us but when I go to rear back I realize that I’m going to tear my head off if I try it, his grip is just that good. Since I’m no acrobat, there’s no way to get two feet around his neck, either and I realize I’m out of options as I start to black out.

Suddenly I find myself on the ground, choking and gasping, while Tadeo hovers over me, trying to see if I’m still alive. He should be watching the Ancient, but…

…that point makes itself apparent as the Ancient barrels into Tadeo and I scramble away from their writhing, punching, kicking mass. Relearning to breathe (which I don’t particularly enjoy) distracts me from the flurry of fists only inches from my side as Tadeo wrestles to restrain the Ancient without damaging him. The door opens and three nondescript vampires spill into the cell, grab the two of them, and drag them toward the door. I rise to leave as well but the door slams in my face with the sound of riotous female laughter.

“Let me out!” my indignant shout gets no response except for a faint,

“Tadeo will come for you when the time is right,” followed by a rapid click, click, click that I would swear belongs to a pair of stiletto heels.

I could rail against fate or curse the vampires for their duplicity, but I take a certain amount of grim satisfaction from their actions and walk over to the solid pools of metal that used to be my restraints. Smiling wickedly, I hum under my breath while focusing on the metal and pouring energy into it.

Never trust a monster, Mirari reminds me in that sing-song voice of hers as the metal between my fingers is shaped into a gleaming, sharp length, because they will fuck you—and each other—each and every time. Leaving me with that pearl of wisdom, Mirari fades off and I’m left alone to plan my escape.