Soul Nights

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Alinar Publishing www.alinarpublishing.com Copyright ©2007 by Kallysten First published in 2007, 2007 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

Souls Night Kallysten

Copyright © 2007 Kallysten All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published October 2007 All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Edited by Margaret C. Cover by Kallysten

ISBN (PDF only): 1-906023-39-5 978-1-906023-39-3

Chapter 1 Mierna wasn't afraid. Sherefused to be afraid. She clenched her fist around her short spear and remained still a few seconds more. The screeching that had startled her repeated twice before fading in the distance. Nothing was moving around her, or at least nothing that she could see. Breathing deep, she pushed aside the fear. With slow steps on the dry, crunching leaves covering the trail, she continued to advance, her eyes darting all around her, her ears straining to catch any more noises. The Fighters said no demons ever came from the woods, but that didn't mean there weren't any around. For all she knew, one of them was watching her and waiting for the right moment to attack. She stood a little straighter at the thought, and forced herself to look ahead rather than around her so she wouldn't appear to be scared. She would not be afraid of demons—and more importantly, of the idea of demons being close by. An owl hooted in the distance. Mierna's heart jumped in her chest as she instinctively whirled toward the sound. "Just a bird,” she muttered to herself. “Nothing but a stupid bird." In the dense woods, the trail sometimes disappeared for a few yards. This wouldn't have been a problem if the moon had not periodically hidden behind clouds brought by a wind that chased them away as quickly as it gathered them. At times, the changing shadows seemed to give life to the trees, and Mierna had to look twice to assure herself she was still alone. She wouldn't let a few shadows unsettle her, or the wet, earthy scent of decay brought by autumn rains, or the murmur of the wind above her head, or all the noises she couldn't identify. She was not a little girl anymore, and she had long since stopped believing that souls roamed free one night a year, looking for minds to inhabit for a few hours. Still, she would have felt better if the Fighters had not challenged her to enter the woods this particular night. Her spear felt slippery against her palm. She stopped, transferred the spear to her left hand, and wiped the right against the fabric of her pants to get a better grip. Then she continued walking, the spear back in her right hand, ready to thrust. The pants, like the spear, belonged to her older brother Carrel, and she still felt uneasy at having borrowed them. She hadn't had much of a choice, though. She couldn't have gone trudging through the woods in a frock, and she couldn't have gone unarmed either. All she could hope was that he wouldn't be too angry when he noticed she had taken them. She didn't even want to think of what their parents would say. Their shock when Carrel had told them she wanted to join the Fighters had been predictable, but she hadn't imagined her mother's tears, or her father's refusal to even hear her out. Whatever happened, now, she had to go to the end of the trail, and return to the Fighters with the proof they had demanded. Once she was accepted amongst them, maybe Carrel and their parents would begin to accept her decision. In any case, they wouldn't be able to stop her. It would be too late. Mierna froze. She could have sworn she had seen a light flicker, somewhere ahead of her. It was much too late in the season for fireflies. She breathed in deep, counted to three, and took one hesitant step.

The light returned, far ahead of her, moving behind the trees, dancing up and down and ... it settled, low to the ground. Mierna took another step, then two, and gasped. There were now two lights. The first one remained where it was while the second moved, then settled down at a short distance of the first. Were these souls, Mierna wondered, recalling the tales old villagers told awed children every year on Souls Night. She did not fear the dead, but just the same, she didn't want to meet them. She hesitated, and then steeled herself. She had to go to the end of the trail. She had to find the weapon she had been asked for. Small lights dancing ahead of her—she counted five—were not going to stop her. As quietly as she could, she continued to approach. There were six lights, now, their glow even brighter as the moon had disappeared behind dark clouds, and she could see a shadow hovering around them. Her mouth suddenly very dry, she stepped always closer. The shadow stood less than twenty feet in front of her, and Mierna frantically tried to recall what she had heard of Souls Night. The souls might try to show her images. They wouldn't hurt her as long as she left them in peace ... but she couldn't remember anything about shadows lurking among the souls. Was it protecting them, maybe? Or was it something different, something much more dangerous—a demon? Just as the idea struck her mind, Mierna walked on a dried branch. She felt it snap before the cracking sound reached her ears, and she winced. This wasn't good. She hadn't wanted to be noticed by whatever was there, a few feet away now, but it was too late. The shadow was growing, turning toward her. A flame wavered in front of the tall shape, its light reverberating in fiery eyes. Mierna's blood turned to ice in her veins. Cold beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. The shadow took a step toward her, and she reacted without thinking. The spear left her hand before she was even conscious of having taken aim. She had trained so long for this, hiding from all to do it. Women weren't supposed to fight demons. They were supposed to stay home, and hope for the best. She had never understood why. As far as she could recall, she had known that she wouldn't be hiding while others fought for her. What she had never trained for, however, never expected, was the cry of surprised pain the shadow let out when the spear hit it. Part of her had expected the spear to pass through the shadow as though passing through smoke. Instead, the shout was accompanied by the noise of a solid body falling back on the ground. As it did, the hood of the black cloak that had made that body seem other than human fell back, revealing a pale face that almost seemed to glow in the light of the returning moon. Horrified by what she had done, Mierna rushed forward, falling to her knees next to the man. The spear was embedded in his abdomen, the area around it shining wetly with blood. He struggled to sit up and she babbled a string of breathless apologies. "I'm so sorry ... I didn't mean ... Gods..." He raised his hand and it hovered near the spear as though to grab it, but did not touch it. "Pull it out,” he grunted. Mierna's hands shook when she grasped the spear. She raised her eyes to the man's face, ready to give him a warning, but instead what she saw sent a flash of pure fear through her. She let go of the spear at once and fell back on her heels in her haste to get away.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already. Now get that spear out of me." There was something powerful in his voice, compelling even through the pain that tainted it. Mierna approached the man again—the vampire. For a moment, his eyes continued to burn with an unnatural fire, but nothing in him hinted at violence or danger. Only when the fire disappeared—leaving his eyes a deep blue—did she grab the spear again with hands as hesitant as they were slippery. She closed her eyes and pulled as fast, as straight as she could. The vampire groaned. "I'm sorry,” she repeated, daring to look at him again. “I thought..." Her voice trailed off as he stood, a hand pressed to his bloody side. She froze when he bent down toward her, certain for a second that he would take his revenge now, but all he did was pick up a small object from the ground. She watched, her fear and apologies forgotten in favor of curiosity, as he touched the cup-like object to one of the lights she had noticed earlier. A flame rose, tiny, wavering, but resistant even in the face of the wind blowing around them. They were small candles, she now realized; by the strong, acrid scent of them, she guessed they had been made from the sap of a certain kind of trees that grew in the woods. Such candles did not give enough light to be of much use, but nothing short of water would kill their flame. There were now seven of these candles, lined up at the top of small piles of rocks. Behind each pile, rounded stones had been polished smooth by the elements, but Mierna could still guess letters, here and there. These were tombs, she realized, her stomach tightening into a painful knot. The vampire stood still in front of the last tomb for a few more moments, then turned back toward Mierna, a hand pressed to his bloody side. She hurried to her feet so he wouldn't loom over her, but even so he stood a full head taller than she was. "Why are you here, child?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “Who are you?" "My ... my name is Mierna. I am from Riverside." A short, impatient nod told her he knew of her village. "The last time, your people sent three armed men during daytime,” he said, sounding more tired than angry. “Do they fear me so little now that they will send one lone child to steal from me?" "I'm not a child,” she replied, annoyed. She crossed her arms and raised her chin a little higher, forgetting that she had wounded the vampire in the light of his accusations. “And I did not come here to steal." His expression remained blank. “Then why are you here?" "It's a challenge,” she explained, trying to reach for a patience she didn't possess. “I had to come here tonight, alone, and return—” She realized the implications of what she was saying as the words passed her lips, but it was too late to stop now. “—with proof that I had come." "What proof?" She could feel her cheeks flushing at his accusatory tone and dropped her eyes. They fell on the bloody hand he was pressing to his side, and her feelings of guilt only heightened. "I have to bring back a weapon,” she said, talking very fast. Then, gesturing at his wound, she added:

“Shouldn't you ... lie down, maybe? I could clean this for you. Bandage it." He ignored her suggestion, focusing instead on what she would rather not have talked about now that she understood the entirety of the challenge. The Fighters had indeed sent her to steal, even though they hadn't phrased it that way. "Who do you think owns that weapon you had to bring back?" "I didn't know anyone would be here,” she muttered. "And yet you came armed." She wanted to roll her eyes at that, but she doubted he would take it well. Her initial burst of fear at being in front of a vampire had faded, but she couldn't forget what he was, couldn't forget old stories of how, once, humans had shown so much respect to vampires. "Of course I came armed. It's Souls Night. I wasn't going to walk around defenseless. And I truly am sorry. I thought you were..." She couldn't finish, her fear suddenly too ridiculous to voice. "You thought I was what?" Once more, her cheeks felt too hot, and Mierna was grateful that it was so dark. “I thought you were a demon." He laughed. The sound took her by surprise, deep and truly amused, but somehow awkward, as though he hadn't laughed in a long time. "And you thought aspear would help against a demon?" "I don't know. I'm not a Fighter yet. But I will be. And a spear has to be better than nothing." His laughter died as abruptly as it had started. Mierna could feel his eyes on her, heavy, piercing, measuring her from her braided hair to the toe of her boots. When he shook his head, a wave of cold ran over her; she was sure she had failed whatever test he had run her through, and she had to fight her need to move back, away from the judgment about to fall from his lips. He didn't say anything however. All he did was grimace, look down at his middle and at his blood stained hand, and then he turned away toward the stone building fifty yards behind him. Mierna had been so focused on him, she hadn't noticed it until now. "Go home, Mierna,” he said without looking back. “Children have no business fighting demons." Outrage bubbled inside her at his words. She didn't think twice. She strode after him. "I'm not a child! I will be nineteen on my next birthday! And the Fighters have accepted boys three years younger than I am in the past. They only made me wait so long because I'm a girl." He stopped so abruptly that she very nearly bumped into him. She took a step back, expecting him to turn to her again, but he only glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Your ... Fighters take children younger than sixteen to fight demons?" It wasn't simple curiosity in his voice. It vibrated with something that, to Mierna, sounded like an accusation, and she found herself taking a defensive stance. "Someone has to do it." He shook his head once more and started for the building without another word. It was a house, Mierna supposed, though the windows were both smaller and higher on the walls than she had ever seen. She doubted much light entered the building through them—which might have been just the goal, she realized. Stories said vampires were afraid of sunlight. He had reached the door and laid a hand on the latch. She couldn't let him dismiss her like this, not after she had come all this way. "We have to protect ourselves,” she called out after him. “You vampires haven't protected us for a long time." He stilled again. This time, he didn't look back, but bowed his head. "We do,” he said, so quietly that Mierna barely heard him. “There just aren't enough of us anymore." He pushed the door open and disappeared inside. It was a clear dismissal, or so Mierna thought until she noticed he had left the door open. She took a step toward it, then stopped, suddenly hesitant. She couldn't see inside, it was too dark, and her instincts were saying that it might not be such a good idea to enter a vampire's lair, just like she would have been wary to intrude on a wild animal's territory, especially a wounded one. Still undecided, she looked back toward the trail. She had walked for more than an hour to arrive to this point. If she left now, it would have been for nothing. The Fighters wouldn't believe her if she returned without proof. She didn't want to steal from someone she had already wounded without cause, but she might have a chance to convince him. If he gave her a weapon, it wouldn't be stealing. Her decision made, she entered the house. She had expected total darkness, but as soon as she entered, light caught her attention, making her turn to the right. She walked slowly toward what turned out to be a large room lined with three torches, hung high on the stone walls and burning brightly. In the center of the fourth wall, a fire was dying, ashes and embers piled high in the hearth. Ten carved chairs surrounded an oval wooden table in the middle of the room. The chairs seemed dusty. Only when the vampire moved did Mierna notice him, sitting on a low bench on the right of the fireplace, a large, fuming pot at his side. He had removed both his cloak and tunic, and was pressing a rag to his bloody side, rinsing it periodically in the pot. She approached slowly, feeling a little uncomfortable at his state of undress. He was slimmer than she had guessed with the long cloak disguising his body, but there was no mistaking the play of strong muscles beneath the pale skin of his arms and torso. "You said there's not enough vampires,” she said, averting her gaze to look at the table and chairs. “Why don't you make more?" For a long moment, he remained quiet, to the point that Mierna wondered if he was going to answer. She finally turned her eyes back toward him, and found him staring at the bloody rag in his hand with a dark, absent look. He gave a small shrug before blinking and glancing up at her. "Only a crazy human would want to become a vampire and risk dying suddenly and without reason."

Mierna had heard of the Great Death, of course. It was only one more tale old folks used to scare children. Stay away from vampires, they said, for if they turn you into one of them, you will die on Souls Night as surely as though they had killed you out right. Like for so many other tales, Mierna wasn't sure she still believed it. "You didn't die,” she pointed out. "No, I did not,” he replied on a flat tone. “I merely saw my seven Childer die in front of me without a scratch on their bodies, or a demon anywhere in sight." She understood then what the tombs outside were. It had been more than two hundred years, the stories said, since the Great Death had come. How often had he held a vigil over these graves? She remained silent for a while, watching him finish cleaning his wound. Next, he reached on the bench next to him for a piece of cloth folded in a square no larger than her hand, and he pressed it to the spear wound. Holding it in place with one hand, he picked up a long, narrow piece of cloth and started winding it around his chest. "Can I help?” Mierna offered, remembering with another jolt of guilt that she had hurt him. "No need.” Already, he was tying up the extremities of the cloth length together, with such ease that it was clear he had had a lot of practice. "It's a rather deep wound,” she said, still uneasy. “My grandmother ... she taught me how to make a poultice—" "No need for that either." He stood and warily stretched his arms over his head. Mierna averted her eyes again, biting her bottom lip and blushing. She hadn't seen a man without shirt since she had stopped swimming in the river upon becoming a young woman, and back then her swimming mates had been boys, not grown men. She could not remember their muscles being so defined, and couldn't remember either having ever wondered what their skin would feel like beneath her fingers. Like all girls her age, she had had crushes on boys before, she had even let Devon kiss her cheek during the last Spring Festival, but none of them had ever made her throat so dry. None of them had ever had imprecise images of kissing by moonlight bounce through her mind. None of them had made butterflies dance wildly in her belly. "Come." The strong word, almost a command, caught Mierna off guard and she started. She looked back toward the vampire, and found that he had crossed the room toward one of the torches. He picked it up from the wall and carried it through a doorless, arched opening into the next room. After hesitating for a few seconds, like she had in front of the open door, she finally followed. She tried to convince herself she wasn't going after him because she was attracted to him. Rather, it was for the same reason she had entered the house. She had to ask him for a weapon. She wasn't sure how to ask, but she needed to do it. She wasn't even sure he had weapons, but surely the Fighters had not sent her on a fool's errand. Her fears disappeared as soon as she entered the second room. On the wall in front of her, metal gleamed, reflecting the flames of the torch. There were a couple of barbed spears leaning against the wall, three axes, all with handles thicker than her arm, but it was the swords that caught her eye. Resting on

hooks on the wall, they all shone bright, from the long, thick sword with the intricately carved handle to the shortest one, no longer than two of her hands put together, more a long dagger than a sword. "Choose." Certain that she had heard him wrong, she looked at the vampire. His face was very grim, and it made his eyes look darker. He nodded toward the weapons even as he slipped the torch through a metal loop on the wall. "Go ahead. It's what you came here for, isn't it?" She blinked. “Do you ... do you mean it?" "Right now, I do, but choose quickly before I change my mind. I still think you're too young." She didn't argue with him about being old enough. Let him think what he wanted as long as he didn't change his mind before she left. She stepped closer to the wall, detailing the swords there. Once, a blacksmith in Riverside had known how to make fine blades such as these. A demon attack had left him and his two apprentices dead, and the town had never recovered the precious lost skills. That was why Mierna was here. All who wanted to join the Fighters needed a weapon. If their family did not own one, they needed to travel to a town and buy one, or find another way to procure one. "I don't know which one to pick,” she murmured when she had reached for three swords but done little more than brush her fingers to their hilts. The vampire chuckled behind her, but more than amused, he sounded sad. “Ah, women and shiny things." He stepped forward, coming to a halt so close behind her that Mierna shuddered. Before she could move away, he took her right wrist and guided her hand to a slim blade, four hands long, she hadn't considered until now. His hand slid until his fingers covered Mierna's, and he gently closed them on the hilt of the sword. He lifted her hand to free the blade from the hooks on the wall, then took two steps back, pulling Mierna along with him. She could feel his chest, pressed against her back, solid and strong, and it made her shiver. She had to fight herself not to jump away—or lean against him, she wasn't sure which. "The woman who owned this blade was as petite as you are.” Still gripping her hand, he guided her arm into slashing the blade in front of her, back and forth. “She complained it was too small, the first time she saw it. Said she would never be able to kill a demon with it, that it would break the first time she tried.” His voice had taken accents of fond remembrance. It dropped in volume until he was murmuring, more to himself than for Mierna, it seemed. “She killed three, her first night with this sword, and she danced of happiness when she did. Her name was Deborah." He let go of her hand and moved away. Mierna took a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart before she turned toward him, but already he had left the room. Taken aback, she followed him outside the house. When she caught up with him, he was standing in front of the graves again, dressed as earlier with a tunic and cloak. "Thank you,” she said, raising the sword to show what she was thanking him for. “I will think of Deborah, when I fight. And of you, too."

He nodded, almost absently, and she had the feeling that he was barely paying her any mind. "So ... I will go back to my village, now." Another nod disappointed Mierna. She had half hoped he would ask her to stay a little longer, though why she wished so, she couldn't have said. "Goodbye, Lord—” she frowned mid sentence, unsure how to finish. “I didn't ask you what you are called." He turned a slight frown toward her. “You don't know my name?” he asked, clearly surprised. “Has it been so long that your village has forgotten—” He sighed. “Elden. My name is Elden." "Goodbye, Elden.” The name wasn't familiar, but it rolled easily on her tongue. “And thank you again." He answered her bright smile with a fainter one. "Don't forget your spear, child." With a jolt, she realized she had been about to walk away without Carrel's spear. She hurried and picked it up from the ground, grimacing at the blood that covered its metal tip. She looked toward Elden, ready to give a last apology for hurting him before she left, but he had turned his attention back to the tombs. She watched him for a few seconds, standing so still, so straight, as though he were but another stone himself. She wondered if vampires believed in the afterlife, or if they even prayed to the gods. She would probably never know. Turning away from the tall, fair haired man who had scared her so much before surprising her even more, she got back on the trail, retracing her steps from not even an hour earlier. The same sounds and shadows played around her in the night, but she barely noticed them, her mind divided between the novelty of the blade in her hand and the extraordinary encounter she had made this night. Would anyone believe her, if she told them that she had met a vampire and that he had freely given her the weapon she had come to take from him?

Chapter 2 The trail looked different in the afternoon light than it had two weeks earlier when Mierna had come at night. The shadows that had made her heart beat so fast seemed playful now that sunlight rather than the moon filtered through the branches, and the calls of a few birds held none of the cold of the wind howling in the night. Like then, though, she had a weapon in hand, this time the sword Elden had given her rather than a spear. And just like that night, she had no idea what to expect once she reached the end of the trail. "Hello, Elden! Remember me?" She winced at her own words. Too joyful. She wanted him to take her seriously. Somehow, she doubted that smiles and a sweet voice would be enough. If anything, they would reinforce his idea that she was a child. "Hello. I wanted to thank you again for the sword. I will honor Deborah's memory—” she cut herself mid sentence and frowned. “No. If I say her name, he might become sad again."

Frustrated, she slashed the sword in the air in front of her. It made a now familiar swooshing sound, but she would have given a lot to trade it for the sound of metal on metal. In the two weeks since the Fighters had grudgingly accepted her as a trainee, no one had found the time to show her how to use a sword, and they wouldn't let her join their nightly patrols until she could best one of them. She had come to realize Carrel had used his influence amongst the Fighters to make sure no one would train her. That was why she was returning to the lair. Seeking the company or help of a vampire went against every warning children were given as they grew up, and so she had needed some time to make up her mind. Still, she didn't see what other choice she had if she wanted to become a full-fledged Fighter. She had to ask him. She just wasn't sure how she would convince Elden to help her again. "Good afternoon—" She stopped mid stride, struck by a sudden thought. Vampires were supposed to hide from sunlight during the day and spend their nights out. Would he be awake, when she arrived there? Disrupting his rest might not be the best way to start that encounter. Maybe she would wait outside for a few hours, and knock only at nighttime. Lost in her thoughts, she started walking again, more slowly now. After a little while, she dismissed the idea. She would not stay on his doorstep, only feet away from the graves. "Hello, Elden. I am sorry for bothering you. Sorry for throwing that spear at you. Sorry for coming to your lair to steal from you. Sorry for thinking about you every day and every night since I met you." She grimaced as the words left her tongue. They were true, every single one of them, but that didn't mean she wanted to share them with Elden. What would he think of her, if she told him she could remember every word he had said, and the feel of his hand on hers when he had made her pick the sword? He wouldn't take her seriously. She wasn't even taking herself seriously. He was a vampire, and much older than she was. Taking a fancy to him was only one more way to avoid thinking of the two men courting her. Her parents were not pushing her into making a choice yet, but the time would come, she was sure, when they would ask her to put her ideas about fighting away and accept a marriage proposal. If she could only show them, all of them, that she was a good Fighter before it came to that... "Hello Elden. Could you teach me to use a sword?" There. Straight, and to the point. If he refused or if he wanted an explanation, she could tell him more. Otherwise, there was no need to volunteer more information than he needed to know. He had seemed like a man of few words. A few more minutes of following the trail and she finally reached the clearing in the woods. She avoided looking at the row of tombs and went straight to the door, heart thundering in her chest and throat suddenly dry. She shook off her hesitation and knocked on the heavy wood four times, wondering even as she did whether the sound would be loud enough. She had only seen two rooms inside, and neither had looked like a place where he might rest. Surely, there were other rooms, and maybe heavy doors between him and— The door opened, and there he was. He stayed back, his body half concealed by the door. Mierna noticed how his eyes tightened as though he were blinded by the sun and for a second she was afraid she was letting sunlight inside his lair. A quick look down however reassured her; judging by the shadows, the door opened to the north, safe from the sun.

"Mierna.” His voice was tight with wariness. “Why did you come back?" She barely heard his question. As she looked back up, she had just noticed, in the same instant, that he wasn't wearing a shirt and that he held a heavy axe in his left hand, only half of it visible from behind the door. The memories that had danced through her mind for the past week resurfaced, skin rippling over a muscled chest, these same muscles strong against her back. Flustered, she forced her eyes back to his face, forgetting her carefully prepared words now that he was in front of her. "I need ... I mean, I'd like ... if you don't mind..." Her voice vanished when she saw his eyes narrow and his jaw twitch. Had she ruined it all, already? Had her babbling upset him in some way? "I won't give you more weapons." "That's not why I'm here." He seemed to ponder her statement, as though not quite believing it. “Why, then?" Needing to break free of his eyes, she looked at her sword even as she pointed it up, hoping her movement wouldn't seem hostile. "It's a beautiful sword,” she said, the words rushing past her lips, “and I am honored that you gave it to me. But I do not know how to use it properly, and no one is willing to teach me. I was wondering if you would. I will ... I will give you my blood in exchange if you—" She had looked up again toward his face as she spoke, needing to judge from his expression whether he would accept or dismiss her, and the ice she saw in his eyes froze her to the bone. He was going to slam the door in her face, she was sure of it, and then— The door creaked as it opened just a little wider, leaving Mierna to hold her breath and hope. "Well?” Elden's voice snapped like a whip. “Are you coming in or not?" She jumped at his tone. He certainly didn't seem too happy about helping her. She wasn't going to question him, however, and risk angering him further. "To the weapons room. Lead the way." The muscles of her back tense from the knowledge that he was so close behind her, she did as he had ordered, passing through the room with the table and fireplace and into the one where she had picked the sword. It was large, the same size as the other room, but because it was devoid of any furniture it seemed larger, even more so than the first time she had entered it as three torches on the walls now brightly lit the space. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for directions. Elden passed by her and went to hang the axe on the wall before picking up the longest sword. "Stand at my side,” he said, still as harshly. “Copy my movements." Mierna was a little put off by the way he was talking to her, but she wanted to learn too much to say anything. She stood where he had indicated with his sword, copying his stance, feet spread out and squarely planted on the stone floor, the sword held in front of her with both hands. He moved fast,

striking in front of him high, then low, changing the angle of the sword from one movement to the next. When he resumed his initial posture and looked toward her, Mierna shook herself into motion and tried to imitate what she had seen the best she could. After having witnessed the grace of Elden's movements, she felt clumsy and hyperaware of his eyes on her, but for a first try, she thought she hadn't done too badly. "Sloppy,” was all Elden said before demonstrating a second combination of movements. Sloppy. Inaccurate. Slow. Weak. Pathetic. The verbal blows came one after the other, the only reaction Mierna received for all her efforts. Her arms were tiring and her fingers were cramped around the hilt of the sword, but the physical discomfort was nothing. It was Elden's icy condemnation of her best efforts that pulled tears always closer to the surface. It lasted an hour or so, until Mierna was panting with exhaustion, sweat plastering hair to her forehead and stinging her eyes. "There's a well outside if you're thirsty,” Elden said, still no warmth or encouragement coming through his words. If anything, he sounded bored. Mierna nodded, her throat too parched to produce a word, and slowly made her way to the front door. The light stung her eyes when she stepped outside, sharper from having been inside for so long, and two tears rolled down her cheeks—from the sun, she assured herself, nothing else. She walked around the building until she found the well, and rested her sword against the stone edge as she pulled a bucket out. She placed it on the ground, kneeling beside it to drink hastily from her cupped hands. When her thirst was sated, she plunged her hands in and left them there for a few moments, letting the coolness soothe them, then splashed her face, erasing both sweat and tears in the same movement. As soon as she had dried her face with her sleeve, more tears welled up in her eyes. Refusing to shed them, she closed her eyes tight even as she fisted her hands on her thighs. When she had thought of Elden training her, she had imagined he would take her hand in his and guide her, the same way he had made her pick the sword. She had heard, also, his soft-spoken voice giving her encouragements, pointing out how to improve, even praising her. Next to that fantasy, the reality she had experienced felt like a nightmare. She didn't feel like she had learned anything from an hour spent wielding the sword in increasingly complicated patterns, and she certainly didn't feel like going back for more. Surely, she would find someone else to train her. All she had to do was ask, and continue asking until someone agreed. It wasn't as though anyone would know she had given up so fast, and even if they did, no one could blame her when Elden was being so harsh. Her decision made, she stood, picking up her sword again. There was no need for goodbyes; she didn't want to hear yet more railing of her skills. He would understand when she didn't return. She started to walk toward the trail, but her steps slowed down, and she came to a halt before she had even left the clearing. No one would know she had given up if she left now; no one but her. She had wanted to become a Fighter for years, and now that her chance was there, she couldn't throw it away so easily. She might have to learn to ignore Elden's cruel words—or learn not to let out her tears of frustration and humiliation until she was out of his sight—but she couldn't let him chase her away. He might be a harsh teacher, but he was the first and only person who had accepted to teach her. With a deep breath in, she slowly turned back toward the house. The door still gaped open, waiting for her. She went back in and closed it behind her.

She found Elden in front of the fireplace. He had just added some wood in, and the flames were casting dancing shadows around the room. When he turned toward her, the fire at his back made his light hair shine. He raised a questioning eyebrow toward her. "I'm ready to continue,” she said, steeling her voice and body for what was to come. For the first time that day, a slight smile appeared on his lips. Although faint, it brightened his entire face. "You made the right choice. Come, let's start the real training." Speechless and confused, she followed him into the weapons room, understanding slowly dawning on her. "You ... you were testing me?" He gave her an appraising look. “Yes.” He looked as though he would say more, but instead he fell silent and observed her. For a moment, she wanted to laugh. Or maybe shout at him, and demand an apology for the way he had treated her during that long, seemingly unending hour. She couldn't think of anything to say however, nothing more than a quiet, “Oh” that he seemed to interpret as the end of that discussion for he nodded once and pointed at the sword in her hand. "Hold your sword in your right hand ... a little higher on the hilt. There. Feet apart. Not so wide. Better. Now raise your sword straight in front of you. Feel its weight but don't let it pull your arm down." If Mierna had compared this lesson to what had happened earlier, she would have had trouble believing the same man had directed both. Elden was at her side, now, helping her position her body with words and light touches of his hand on her elbow or back, touches that left goose bumps in their wake. He was telling her what he wanted her to do and demonstrating as well. The forms he was teaching her were far less complicated than what he had demanded of her earlier, and she could recognize that these simpler movements were the basis for more advanced ones. More than that, though, he was giving her time to master each movement, talking her through it as many times as she needed before moving on to the next one, always remaining calm even when she blundered repeatedly. "Better, but your arm is still bent. Try again, like this." He stepped behind her, closed his hand over hers and guided her through the slash and parry that had been eluding her for almost ten minutes now. Immediately, Mierna's heart accelerated. This was what she had daydreamed about. To think she had been about to leave... "Your turn." Already, he had moved away, and all that remained was the fading feel of his hand holding hers. It was rough from calluses, but gentle. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, caressing her face. "Mierna?" She tried to copy the form on her own, but she had been too distracted by his closeness to pay much mind to the way her hand was supposed to move. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"Are you tired?” he asked, frowning slightly. "No, I'm fine!" He tilted his head to one side as though listening, but Mierna couldn't hear anything. "Your heart is racing,” he said after a moment. “Let's stop here for today. It won't help to do too much at once." She wanted to protest, but a light squeeze of his hand on her shoulder and a few warm words stopped her. "You've done well." Too soon, the hand retreated. Heat suffused Mierna's cheeks. She wasn't sure whether it came from his touch or praises. "When can I come back?” she blurted out before she could think of a more elegant way to ask. Elden smiled, and the heat descended from Mierna's face to her entire body. "You tell me." She did not hesitate, even if her body was beginning to ache fiercely. “Tomorrow?" "Tomorrow it is. Same time as today." She nodded, and tried to find something else to say, unwilling to leave quite so fast. Her eyes slid down his bare chest once more—she had tried to stay focused as he taught her but sometimes her eyes had strayed—and for the first time she noticed the pink, puckered mark on his abdomen. She recognized it at once with a painful tightening of her stomach. "Are you ... are you healed?” she asked, regretting now that she hadn't thought of enquiring earlier about the wound she had caused. He looked surprised for a second, then seemed to understand what she was talking about. "I'm fine. I heal fast. I was back to the hunt the night after I was hurt." Unsure about what he meant, Mierna frowned. “The hunt?" She knew vampires fed on blood, but she had never stopped to wonder what blood. She didn't know anyone who had ever been bitten. Animals, then, though she had trouble imagining the tall, broad-shouldered man in front of her running after rabbits. "I told you before. Your Fighters aren't the only ones killing demons." She blinked, a little ashamed that she hadn't understood right away. Then again, everybody knew, or thought they knew, that vampires hadn't protected Riverside since the Great Death. She wondered if anyone else knew about Elden. The Fighters patrolled around the village and its surroundings, but she had never heard that they had reported encountering a vampire.

To hear that he was fighting demons also reminded her of the offer she had made when first asking for Elden's help. She had to take a deep breath before she could repeat the offer, and she was proud when her voice did not shake. "Do you want to take my blood now?" For no longer than a second, something passed over his features, in his eyes, something that almost frightened Mierna. She had never seen a hunger so deep, so raw. Nonetheless, rather than accepting her offer, Elden shook his head, very slowly, as though forcing himself to do the gesture. "It's not necessary." The same hunger filtered though his voice, repressed but not erased. Mierna wondered when he had last taken blood from a human. Before the Great Death, Riverside and other villages had forged a Pact with Elden and his clan. For more than two centuries, the humans had offered their blood to the vampires in exchange for protection against demons. The Great Death had taken the lives of hundreds of vampires and Pacts all over the country and beyond had ended. "You've spent time teaching me,” she insisted. “It's only fair that you receive something in exchange." She thought he would refuse again, but he look of hunger flared anew in his eyes. "All right,” he said hoarsely. “Come, sit with me." He led her to the low bench by the fire and after sitting next to her he took her hand. Mierna shivered, her skin erupting in goose bumps at the lightness of his touch. "I haven't done this in a while.” He ran his thumb against the inside of her wrist. “I'll try not to hurt you too much." If the words had been meant to reassure Mierna, they missed the mark by a long shot. She had guessed being bitten would hurt, but to have her fears confirmed made her tense, so that her entire body was locked and rigid when Elden pulled her hand toward his mouth. His lips touched her skin, soft and firm. Mierna closed her eyes tight. "You don't have to do this,” Elden said after a few seconds, lowering her hand but without letting go. Mierna opened her eyes and looked at him. The hunger was still there, now accompanied by concern. Had he guessed how scared she was? "How do you ... feed usually?” she asked to distract herself. "Animals. Demons, sometimes. They taste as bad as they look, though." The tone of his voice hinted at a joke, but Mierna couldn't make herself find humor in his words. "And people ... I mean humans ... taste better?" A slight smile curved his lips. “They do. And they're much prettier too."

She gave him a hesitant smile, unsure whether he had just paid her a compliment. Talking with Elden, along with the slow motion of his thumb massaging her wrist had calmed her nerves. She took a slow breath and nodded slightly. "I'm ready." His eyes remained on hers a little longer then broke away. Once again, he pulled her wrist to his mouth. Mierna tried to remain calm, and this time she kept her eyes open so that she saw his mouth open and the quick gleam of a fang before he bit down. She let out a surprised gasp at the pain, but it didn't hurt as much as she expected. In fact, the feel of his lips and mouth when he started pulling on her blood was ... strange, and not completely unpleasant. It awakened quiet sparks inside her, like embers ready to bring a fire back to life. Before she knew it, however, it was over. Elden's lips lingered a moment longer on her wrist and then, very gently, he lowered her hand to rest on her knee. Mierna wasn't sure whether she was imagining it but he seemed less pale, suddenly. "Thank you,” he murmured. She nodded, unable to say a word, and watched the slow smile that came to his lips, full of the same warmth she could see in his eyes. This smile stayed at the forefront of Mierna's mind long after she had left Elden's lair.

Chapter 3 For three weeks, Mierna followed the same routine. She rose before dawn, rushed around the farm to finish her part of the chores before the middle of the afternoon then changed into the borrowed clothes that had become her fighting outfit and hurried on the trail through the woods to Elden's lair. He took her blood twice more during these three weeks, and each time was less painful—more thrilling. As the season advanced, she had to trudge through the rain and mud more than once, her cloak a weak protection against the elements. She never faltered however, the idea of the fire roaring in Elden's fireplace pushing her forward even when the first snow of the season caught her off guard one afternoon. When she knocked on the door that day, her gray cloak seemed white from being covered in snow, and she felt frozen to the bone. She had held the cloak closed with her fist the entire way, but the snow had still seeped in, and her wool tunic, undershirt and pants all clung wetly to her, the wool giving in an unpleasant wet animal smell that made her wrinkle her nose every so often. The only part of her that was still dry was her feet; her high leather boots, at least, had kept the snow and mud out. When Elden opened the door, his blue eyes widened in astonishment and he urged Mierna in with both gesture and words. "By the Gods, child ... Come in!" As soon as she passed the threshold, he closed the door and pulled Mierna's cloak off her shoulders. "You shouldn't have come in this weather,” he said as he ushered her toward the fireplace. "It wasn't snowing when I left,” Mierna replied, then clamped her mouth shut before he could hear her teeth clattering.

"Then you should have turned back when it started." Wood was piled up in the fireplace, and with a few prods of a metal rod Elden made the flames jump, high and bright. Mierna stepped as close to it as she dared and raised her hands toward the fiery heat. Immediately, the snow clinging to her started melting to form a puddle at her feet. A few moments later, wisps of steam began rising from her sleeves. "Take off your clothes,” Elden said as he threw another log in the hearth. “You'll catch your death if you stay in these." Mierna lost her breath at the casual tone on which he had suggested that she should undress. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, unable to say a word and ask him if he truly believed she would present herself in anything less than proper attire in front of him. He noticed her look and frowned at her for a moment before sighing. "Of course,” he said then. “I had forgotten. You humans are so shy of your bodies." A roll of his eyes said exactly what he thought of that, and Mierna felt like arguing with him. Hadn't he been human, long ago? Would he have undressed in front of a young woman, then? The idea brought heat to her cheeks and she turned back to the fire to hide it. She heard Elden walk away, then a door opening behind her. She wondered if he had left to give her some privacy and looked back curiously. She had gotten used in the past weeks to Elden's quiet ways, but that didn't mean she was any better at guessing what his silences meant. He returned after only a minute or two, carrying a piece of thick fabric as long as his arm and almost as wide. "Here.” He handed the towel to Mierna. “Dry yourself. There are clothes in my room that should fit you." Mierna patted her face dry before looking at him, then at the door he had left open at the end of the hallway. All she had ever seen of the lair were what Elden called the common room where she now stood and the weapons room where he taught her. She had guessed that the other doors led to bedchambers—after all, at least eight people had lived in the building at once in the past—but she had never had the occasion to go into any of the other rooms. Curiosity drew her forward before she could wonder whether it was proper for her to enter a man's bedroom even if he wasn't inside. With each step taking her away from the fireplace, she could feel the cold settling on her again through her wet clothes. She walked a little faster toward the open door, and closed it behind her once she was in the room. The strong smell of a couple sap candles made her sneeze at once, but she got used to it, as well as to the faint light they cast. The fireplace, smaller than the one in the common room, was empty. A bed, a chair and a chest of clothes completed the furniture of the austere bedroom. She noticed the clothes resting on the bed, a long sleeved tunic and trousers, both of the same fine but heavy material, both of what seemed like a deep red in the wavering light of the candles. With a quick look at the closed door, she undid the leather fastenings of her scabbard and rested the sword on the bed. She then pulled off her boots and undressed down to her smallclothes. She used the towel to dry herself quickly and slipped the dry clothes on, shivering the entire time. The clothes fit her too well to have belonged to Elden, she realized. And they also seemed a little dusty, when the rest of the room seemed well kept. Had they belonged to someone else—someone who had been dead for centuries?

Why would Elden keep such clothes for so long when he had no use for them? He could hardly have foreseen that a human soaked to the bone would one day knock on his door. Having slipped her boots back on, she was about to walk back to the common room and its warmth when she noticed the second chest of clothes almost hidden behind the bed. The chest she had noticed earlier at the foot of the bed was very plain, whereas this one would have been fit for a woman with its lid engraved with roses. She had the impulse to open it, just to see if more dusty clothes lay inside, but a call behind the door startled her before she could get to it. "Mierna? You should get back to the fire, child." Annoyance surged through her, erasing both her many questions and the uncomfortable feeling of being cold, albeit dry now. She picked up her wet clothes and the sword and opened the door to find Elden just behind it. "I am not a child,” she told him for what felt like the hundredth time. Even in the near darkness of the hallway, she saw his eyes widen for a second before he turned his head to look away. "Regardless,” he said, very low. “You should get warm." He led the way back to the common room and she followed without arguing any more. He had pulled two chairs close to the fireplace. Her coat hung from a peg on the side of the hearth. She placed her sword on the seat on one chair, put her clothes to dry on the back of it and sat down on the second. She felt warmer already, both from the clothes she wore and the proximity of the fire. She started undoing her braid so her hair would dry faster. From the corner of her eye, she could see Elden where he had sat at the table in the center of the room, watching her. He was very still, very quiet, and after a while she became unnerved at his silent observation of her. She turned her face fully toward him, catching a startled look on his features. "What is it?” she asked, feeling very tense. "Nothing,” he replied defensively. "You're staring at me." He immediately looked away, as though to deny he had been. “I had never seen you with your hair down.” He let a few seconds pass in silence, then added, barely louder than a whisper: “You reminded me of someone I once knew." "Who?” Mierna asked without thinking, but the word was lost in the scrapping noise of wood on stone when Elden pushed his chair back and stood. Without a word, almost without a noise, he slid to the weapons room. She heard the characteristic chime of metal on metal when he picked a weapon from the hooks on the wall, followed almost immediately by the swish of a blade slicing the air. She couldn't see him from the doorless archway, but she could see his shadow dance on the far wall. Unable to stop herself, she tiptoed toward the room, stopping to lean against the wall and peer inside. Elden moved almost too fast for her to follow, his sword slashing through the air, parrying imaginary attacks, never still for more than a second. The look on his face was intense,

determined; his every moves reflected strength and focus. The thought that he was beautiful struck Mierna, coming out of nowhere and leaving her breathless. She couldn't remember ever thinking such a thing about a man before that instant. But then, she couldn't remember either ever wanting to kiss a man before she had met Elden. She pulled her gaze away from him with some difficulty and returned to sit by the fire. The slight shaking of her hands had nothing to do anymore with the cold. She clasped them in front of her, and turned her face to look at Elden's shadow again. She should have joined him; after all, she had walked through the bad weather to come and train with him. She had a feeling, however, that he would guess the treacherous path her thoughts were taking as soon as he laid his eyes on her, and she would die of shame if he did. She didn't know how much time passed until Elden came back in the common room. The sword now hung from a scabbard at his belt. He returned to the table, but instead of sitting down he leaned against the back of the chair. "Do you feel warmer?” he asked without looking at her. "Yes. Thank you." He nodded. “The sun has set. I will take you back to Riverside." "I will be fine,” she said quickly. “You don't have to—" Already he was striding away without listening to her. He picked his cloak and gloves by the door, and, when he was ready, finally looked at her. "Let's go." His tone left no room for hesitation or arguments. She stood and put on her cloak and sword, then picked up her clothes and looked at Elden questioningly. "You can keep the clothes,” he said, turning his gaze away. “At least they will be of use to someone." He preceded her outside. By the time she joined him, he was sitting astride the horse he kept in a separate building behind the house. She had seen the elegant horse before, sneaking into the shed while she was out to get water from the well, but she had never seen Elden mount it. He seemed fully at ease even when the animal stomped its foot nervously in the muddy mess the melted snow had left behind. "Let's go,” Elden said again, holding out his hand toward her. Mierna breathed deeply before clasping his gloved hand. She missed the feel of his skin, cool but strong as he pulled her up to sit behind him. She had been on a horse before—her father's old, short, stocky mare—but she had never ridden such a fine animal. And she had never ridden at someone's back, with a hand clasped at his side and the other holding her still damp clothes to her. "Hold on tight,” he said, and heeled the horse forward. The animal started at a trot. Mierna let out a gasp and let go of her clothes, letting them fall across her legs. She threw both her arms around Elden's waist, her fear to fall greater than her embarrassment at being pressed against his back. With each step of the horse, she could feel Elden's body move against

her, and a slow warmth spread through her. After a while, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the fabric of his cloak as lightly as she could. She felt him tense against her and immediately moved back. "I think it is time to stop your visits." The words seemed loud in the near silence of the forest, louder than Elden's voice had truly been. "No!” Mierna sat up as straight as she could. She wished she could have seen Elden's face. “There's so much I still need to learn!" "The cold season is here. You won't learn anything if you come in frozen as you did today." His words made sense, but Mierna refused to see their truth. She couldn't imagine stopping her training so soon. She could imagine even less not seeing Elden until the return of spring. "Demons don't stop their raids in the winter, do they?” she asked, her voice shaking. "No, but—" "And you won't stop fighting them, will you?" "No, but I'm not—" "Then I won't stop either. You can't force me to stop." During the few minutes of silence that followed her words, Mierna tried to believe she had convinced him, but even she could see the flaw in her argument. She could trudge through wind and snow every day for the entire cold season, but that didn't mean Elden would teach her anything or even open his door to her. "Is there a place near your village where I could train you?” he asked at last. “An old barn, or—" Both relieved and excited, she didn't even let him finish. "There is. Near my parents’ farm. This way." They had reached the edge of the woods. In the distance, the village was a scattering of wavering lights behind small windows. Mierna indicated the way to the old barn where all children, including her, had played at one time or another. It had been abandoned for years but it was in good shape. "It will do,” Elden announced after seeing the place. “I'll come here every other night, instead of you coming to me." "Every other night?” Mierna protested as she slipped off the horse. “Why not every night like now?" He seemed amused when he looked down at her. “You can train on your own the rest of the time. I've shown you enough." There was the hint of a question in his words. Mierna didn't know how to answer it. She could have trained on her own, yes. She might even have been good enough with a sword now to best one of the

Fighters and earn her place amongst them. She wasn't ready, however, to stop seeing Elden. "I'll see you the night after next,” he said after a few moments. “Stay warm in the meantime." That simple admonishment slid over Mierna like a warm blanket. She watched Elden go, only shaking herself into motion when he had disappeared. As she started toward her parents’ farm, she glanced back at the old barn and smiled. She couldn't wait to return and see Elden again. The snow had all but disappeared over the fields, and she reached the farm in no time. She would get in through the back door and the pantry, she decided, and try to avoid anyone seeing her in the clothes Elden had given her. When she walked in, however, and despite her care at being silent, the old door creaked loudly and revealed her presence. Her mother appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Of short stature, she had an air about her that commanded respect even from men two heads taller than she was. "Good evening, Mother.” Mierna crossed the room, trying to hide the still damp clothes she held beneath her cloak. “I will come help you in a minute." She slipped past her mother and into the bedrooms hallway. She intended to change once she reached her room, but her mother followed her in. Mierna dropped her clothes out of sight before lighting a candle. "We were worried. Were you ... training again? You shouldn't be running outside in this weather." Mierna didn't know how to answer. She hated to lie to her parents, yet she had had no choice but to tell them she spent her afternoons training on her own. She couldn't begin to imagine their reaction if she had admitted she trained with a vampire. "I found a place,” she said slowly. “In the woods. Where I found the sword before." Her mother threw a look of distaste at the sword when Mierna unbuckled the scabbard and laid in down on the small table that was, with her bed and chest of clothes, the only furniture in the room. She couldn't delay taking of her cloak any longer, and braced herself for the questions she knew would come when she did. "Still,” her mother said, concerned, “you shouldn't..." Her sharp eyes noticed the clothes Mierna wore at once and her eyebrows rose up in surprise. "I found these in that house in the woods,” Mierna said before her mother could ask. “I was wet from the snow, and—" "You will return them." "No one lives there who needs these clothes, Mother. I promise." Fists on her hips, her mother shook her head. “Regardless. It is bad enough that my daughter dresses in breeches and plays at being a Fighter. I will not have anyone wonder if you stole these." Mierna tried very hard not to sigh. “Yes, Mother."

Her mother nodded, not doubting for one second that Mierna might be anything less than truthful. “Change into something more respectable and come help me in the kitchen. Carrel is bringing his friend Gorden for dinner. They will be here soon." She closed the door when she left. Mierna knelt by her clothes chest and pulled out skirts and a tunic. For a moment, she glared at the items of clothing, angry at what they represented. She was tired of lying, tired of pretending she was someone else. Only with Elden could she be who she wanted, say what she pleased. The hours would be long until the time came to go meet him in the barn.

Chapter 4 "Again. Higher, this time. Most demons are taller than I am." Mierna complied, and this time her sword struck higher, meeting Elden's with a loud clash. He pushed her back and she let him, the same way he had admonished her, time and again, not to do. But rather than retreating as she usually did, she slashed her sword toward him again. The blade missed him only by an inch, just as she Mierna had aimed to do. Elden had not moved at all, caught off guard for the first time. She held her breath, both thrilled by her success and afraid that she had come too close to hurting him. His face breaking into a rare, wide smile reassured her. "Yes! Just like that! I knew you'd—" He stopped mid-sentence for no reason she could see and turned his face toward the large door they had closed to keep the warmth of their small fire inside the barn. Seconds later, the door was thrown open and five men strode in. Mierna's eyes stopped on the one who walked in the front, a short spear in hand. She had seen that look on her brother's face before. "Mierna!" She turned her entire body toward Carrel as he approached. The idea that he might attack her would never have entered her mind, and yet she could feel herself tensing and getting ready for a fight. "Have you lost all sense of decency?” he snapped at her. “What are you doing here, alone with a man?" He came to stand just a foot in front of her, his companions remaining at a short distance behind him. Mierna stood her ground, chin held high and eyes battling Carrel's. The time was long past since he had been able to loom over her and intimidate her. "I am training,” she replied, her words slow and deliberate. She broke eye contact to glance at the men standing behind him. She knew them, of course; they were Fighters, and all of them were her brother's age or a little older so that she had often seen them together as they were growing up. She had asked three of them to teach her how to use her sword after Elden had given it to her. “I am training,” she repeated, “with the only person who agreed to teach me." On Carrel's right, she noticed Gorden shifting and taking a half step forward as though he wanted to intrude on the conversation. She hadn't asked him to teach her. For a long time while growing up, she had had a little girl's crush on him, and she still felt like she was ten years old again when she had to talk to him. The fact that he was now courting her did not help matters in the slightest. "It doesn't change the fact that you're alone with a stranger,” Carrel insisted. He turned his attention

toward Elden. “Our people do not tolerate strange men corrupting—" Without warning, the point of Elden's sword came to stand at the hollow of Carrel's throat. None of the five Fighters had had a chance to move. "I don't—” he started just as Mierna looked at him and raised a hand. "Elden, this is my brother,” she said hurriedly. “He did not mean to insult you." Mierna had held Elden's sword before, she knew the weight of it and how difficult it could be to hold a weapon extended in this way. Yet the sword and his arm remained perfectly still. "But he did insult me. And you as well. I think an apology wouldn't be too much to ask." Behind Carrel, one of the Fighters, Cayce, blurted out, almost awed: “You called him Elden?" "See?” Elden said smugly. “I'm not a stranger. Your friend knows—" But before Elden could even finish, Cayce dropped the sword he was holding and ran out of the barn. Elden must have felt as taken aback as Mierna did, because he lowered his sword and frowned. "My friend knows what?” Carrel asked, finding his voice again now that he didn't have a blade at his throat anymore. A loud sound came in from outside the barn, and all five humans froze when they heard it. It was the deep horn note that called Fighters to arms when demons were spotted near the village. It would repeat every few seconds to guide men to the place of the battle. "What is Cayce doing?” Gorden grumbled as he looked around the barn. “There aren't demons here." It was Cayce's younger brother, Roan who answered. His face had lost all color and his freckles and hair seemed even redder than usual. "No demon, no, but a vam ... a vampire." "A vampire?” Carrel repeated, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. Mierna felt like rolling her eyes at him—at all of them. “You know I was sent to the lair—" "None of us believed you'd actually go there!” Gorden interrupted. "Where did you think I got this, then?” She raised the sword she held, and it gleamed as it reflected light from the fire. The only answer to her question was yet another deep call from Cayce's horn. "Did you believe I'd just give up on wanting to be a Fighter after I got the sword if no one helped me? And why did you think I've been getting up so early for weeks to finish my chores?” She threw the question at Carrel, but he seemed too stunned to reply. “This was not a child's flight of fancy. I wanted to learn to fight, and I did."

Gorden shook his head and gave her a gentle smile. “Mierna, you're smarter than that. You can't really believe you'll ever best one of us, and you won't be a Fighter unless you do." "She'll best you, here and now." Elden's calm declaration knocked the breath out of Mierna. “What?” she gasped, even as Gorden and Carrel let out their incredulity with twin protests. Elden ignored them, and instead focused a heavy gaze on her. "You've probably trained harder in these past few weeks than he has in all his life. He doesn't even know how to hold his weapon properly. If you remember what I taught you, you can be a Fighter tonight." Everything inside Mierna wanted to protest, to argue that she wasn't ready, that she needed more lessons yet. The strength of Elden's words, however, and the conviction etched on his features gave her a confidence that she would never have found on her own. Very slowly, she turned toward Gorden, and raised her sword in his direction. She saw his eyes widen as he shook his head, but she didn't stop. "I challenge you,” she said with the smallest shaking in her voice, and it was done. Neither of them could back out of the fight now. Gorden looked shocked, but it was nothing next to Carrel's reaction. His mouth opened and his lips moved, yet no sound came out. His eyes bulging, he looked in turn at Elden, Mierna and Gorden as though he could stop anything from happening with the strength of his stare. Already, though, Gorden was stepping forward. "I hear your challenge,” he replied formally, and raised his sword in front of his face in a salute. "No, no.” Carrel finally found his voice back. “She did not mean that, Gorden, it's—" Mierna did not have to say a word. Roan and the last of the Fighters, Shea, each took one of Carrel's arms and drew him back to give Mierna and Gorden some space. Elden retreated as well, sliding his sword in the scabbard at his belt and crossing his arms. Mierna met his eyes and he nodded once. She breathed a little more easily at the confidence and encouragement she could see on his features. He believed in her. She nodded back. She could do this. Feet placed just so. Hand tight on the hilt, but not clenched. Shoulders relaxed but ready. She struck first, and when her sword met Gorden's, the clash of metal was like a signal that the challenge had truly started. Back and forth, they attacked and parried. Gorden was taller, stronger than she was; his sword was a hand longer and heavier as well. But as Elden had pointed out, she had had a much better training, and so she held her own easily. As they stepped around each other, attacking still but now with a few moments between each blow as they both tired, more Fighters began arriving. Mierna was aware of them, but at the same time she paid them no mind, the same way Elden had taught her to focus on her fight without allowing irrelevant information to distract her. They were forming a loose semi circle around Gorden and her, now, with only Elden on the other side. There were gasps and cheers whenever a blow looked like it would draw blood, but the rules of the challenge demanded that she disarm her adversary without harming him beyond a few scratches. "Stop playing, Mierna,” Elden demanded suddenly. “End it."

The quiet command brought a flush to Mierna's cheeks. She wanted to win, but she didn't want to humiliate Gorden by beating him too easily. If Elden had noticed, however, someone else might realize what she was doing as well. Better to end it, as Elden had said. The next time he attacked, she feinted as Elden had taught her, and used Gorden's momentum against him. She hooked her hilt behind his, pulled hard, and when his sword clattered behind her she very slowly rested her blade against the side of his neck. He gave a start; the blade nicked his skin. "Enough. The challenge is won.” Cayce and Roan's grandfather, the Eldest of the Fighters, raised a hand in Mierna's direction. “You are one of us, Mierna." He sounded unhappy to have to make this pronouncement, but Mierna didn't care. All that mattered was that she was a Fighter, now. She lowered her sword and cast a beaming smile toward Elden, who nodded his approval. "You fought well,” Gorden said. When Mierna looked back at him, there was a new respect in his eyes. It felt strange—and good—to finally be accepted as a Fighter. "Why were we called for a challenge?” the Eldest asked, looking around as though unsure who might give him an answer. Cayce had returned inside, and he was the one who replied. “Eldest, I called a gathering for the vampire, not the challenge." At once, all eyes in the barn turned toward Elden. He appeared untouched by this new scrutiny, but Mierna could see the minute changes in his body. Whatever happened, however the Fighters reacted to his presence, he was ready. Slowly, so as not to be too conspicuous, Mierna moved toward him, slipping her sword back into its scabbard. "You did not ask to enter our village,” the Eldest said. He was using his most formal voice, the one with which he made important announcements or pronounced young couples married. “By the age-old Pacts, you are required to do so." "He's only here because I asked him to teach me,” Mierna interjected. At the same time, Elden said: “The Pacts are long gone. I am not bound by them anymore." "Then neither are we,” Carrel said. They were his first words since the challenge, and he had surmounted his shock. Now, he was angry again. He strode to Mierna, and before she could react, he had grabbed her left hand, pulled up her sleeve and raised her bare wrist for all to see. Gasps rose all around them at the sight of the bite marks. Too late, Mierna pulled free and tugged her sleeve back down. "Mother noticed it weeks ago,” he said, his eyes sharp and accusing as they found Mierna's. “She pretended she was bitten by bugs." Mierna didn't flinch or look away. “It was my choice."

"That is not a choice you can make!” The Eldest seemed scandalized, his voice shaking in outrage. He looked at the Fighters around him as though holding them witness. “The gift of blood and Pacts are the decision of a village, not the whim of one child." There were murmurs of approval from the Fighters. Mierna wanted to explain—she had only gone to Elden because none of them would help her. She didn't have time for it, though. "I did not make a Pact with this child. We had a bargain, her blood against my teaching. Now that she is a Fighter the bargain is over." Trying desperately to find the words that would stop him, Mierna watched him as he went to untie his horse at the back of the barn. When he started for the door, leading the animal by the bridle, the Eldest signaled for the Fighters to open a path for Elden. Only when he stepped beyond the doors did she run after him, shaking off Carrel's hand when he tried to stop her. "Wait!” she called out. Elden already had one foot on the stirrup. He looked at her, but hoisted himself onto the horse anyway. "So that's it?” she asked, pushing the words past her tight throat. “The ‘bargain’ is over and you leave without a goodbye?" She was dimly aware that her words might be conveying too much. She had come to accept her feelings for Elden, but she was in no way ready to let him know about them. Still, she couldn't manage to stop herself, or to look at him with anything other than pleading. "I gave you what you wanted,” Elden said, looking down at his gloves as he tugged on them listlessly. “You're a fighter. And you actually have a chance to survive if you meet a demon." "A chance?” she repeated, surprised and disbelieving. “I want more than a chance!" The horse stomped its foot. Without thinking, Mierna grabbed the bridle. She wouldn't let Elden leave without receiving an answer first. She kept her eyes on his face, and after a few seconds, he returned her look. The strength of his stare startled her. In his eyes, she saw the same hunger that she had gotten used to seeing when he took her blood. But she could also guess a yearning stronger than she could comprehend, and it scared her despite herself. "Two hundred years ago,” he said, his quiet voice shaking from being so intense, “I would have been proud to call you my Childe. You're too stubborn for your own good, and determined, and in time you'll be a great fighter. But you weren't born two hundred years ago, and I have taught you all that I can. All I can hope is that the Gods will protect you." His hand closed on hers on the bridle, and pried it off. Holding it tight, he pulled it up even as he bent down to press his lips to her knuckles. She could feel the touch long after he had gone. The slow realization that he had meant the gesture as a goodbye drew cold and ice to her better than the wind roaring around her.

Chapter 5 Mierna had to knock for almost two minutes before the door finally opened in front of her. She

swallowed back the annoyed comment that had risen to her lips and stared, shocked, at Elden's face. "What happened?” she asked, unable to stop herself from reaching out. Her fingers ghosted over the black and purple bruises that marred his face. She didn't dare touch his skin, but even so he reared back and out of her reach. "Demons,” was all he said. "Demons?” An edge of hysteria was creeping up in Mierna's voice and she tried to control herself before she continued. “You've always told me I ought to run rather than let demons—" "Get close enough to lay a hand on you,” he finished for her. “It doesn't mean it always works that way.” He stopped and took a few seconds to look at her before asking, his voice gentler: “Why have you come?" She would have expected him to invite her in by now; it was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was bright, but the air was cold enough that her breath fogged in front of her. Still, he remained where he was, leaning against the door and blocking the way. The laces of his tunic were undone, and she could see that the bruises on his skin extended to his chest. She fisted her hand so she wouldn't be tempted to reach for him again. "I came because the Fighters need you." His lips formed the words ‘the Fighters', but he didn't interrupt her. "After I beat Gorden,” she explained, “he wanted to learn to fight like I do. And so did a few of the others. I tried teaching them, but I'm not very good at it.” She gave him a tight grin. “I don't have your patience." Rather than returning her grin as she had hoped, he shook his head. "I'm not welcome in your village. Your Eldest—" "He agreed,” she said quickly. “We petitioned him, and he agreed. It has been done in the past, a vampire came to Riverside and stayed for a few months to teach the men to fight. Anyway, you can come to the barn as you used to. We can start the bargain again." She had tried to say that last part on the same tone as the rest, but her voice wavered slightly. Elden's eyebrows twitched. "Why do I have a feeling the Eldest didn't agree to that?" Heat spread through Mierna's cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the stone floors at Elden's feet. She felt embarrassed, both at having been caught in her not quite lie and at the words that were burning her lips. It had been four weeks since she had become a Fighter—four weeks since she had seen Elden. Not a day had passed that she hadn't thought of him. Every time she had picked up her sword, it had been like taking his hand for a second; only a second. She forced herself to look up again. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself, but she needed to know if she was the only one whose life had changed on Souls Night. "I've missed you,” she said, the words starting as a whisper but picking up intensity as she pushed on.

“I've missed talking to you, and training with you, and even ... even the bite." Her blush only redoubled at that admission, but she refused to look away again. Keeping her eyes on Elden's, she waited for a reaction. He seemed shocked at first. When the tiniest smile pulled at the corners of his lips, she allowed herself to breathe again. "I've missed you too." "So you'll come? You'll teach us?" He sighed. “I will." "And you'll take my blood?" His small smile became apologetic. “I don't think your friends would like that." Mierna shook her head. He hadn't refused. That had to mean he wanted it—wanted her. “Then take it now,” she insisted. “You look like you were hurt. Wouldn't it help?" He seemed torn, the hunger lighting his eyes with a slow fire even as he clung to the only half-open door. “It would, but..." Without waiting for him to find an excuse, Mierna gently pushed in past him and closed the door. He stared at her but he didn't stop her. She strode over to the common room and approached the fireplace. Ashes almost completely covered dark red embers, but it had to be enough to restart the fire. She knelt by the hearth, uncovered the embers with metal prongs, blew on them until they were a bright red, then threw in some straw. Her hand was shaking a little as she did, both from nervousness and excitement. She stood again to pick up wood on the side of the fireplace, and almost bumped into Elden. She hadn't heard him approach. Flustered, she moved aside to let him throw in kindling. When he turned back to her, the fire was starting to crackle, long flames rising in the air. They sat together on the low bench, as they had done what seemed like an eternity ago, except that this time Elden was straddling the bench. It all seemed so familiar ... the way they had lit the fire together, sat next to each other, even his hand gently taking hers ... More than familiar, it felt intimate. His eyes were heavy as they scrutinized Mierna and she couldn't help shifting restlessly. "Are you sure you want this?” he murmured. "I do." "Then what preoccupies you so much?" "Nothing, I...” She met his eyes, and words surged out of a corner of her mind she rarely acknowledged. “Do you ever think about renewing the Pact? About having another Childe?" The question had haunted her ever since their talk the night she had become a Fighter. She had never thought about it before, but his words had raised an idea that she just couldn't push away. For a brief moment, his fingers tightened over hers and she winced. His voice when he answered was cold as ice, and full of pain.

"I won't kill anyone else." "What if they wanted it?” she pushed, unable to voice her true question—"What if I wanted it?" He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the fingers he had just bruised. “Shush, child." A flash of exasperation covered everything else, from her nervousness about the coming bite to the thread of hope that she might not have to say goodbye anymore, one day. "I'm not a child. You know that." Rather than answering, he trailed his lips from her fingers to her wrist and bit down. She couldn't stop a small cry from passing her lips. Usually, he was much gentler than this. Had she upset him so much he had lost control, or was he too hungry to take things slow? He sucked onto her blood harder than ever, and despite the initial pain, Mierna soon had to bite the inside of her cheek so as not to let out a moan. It would have been too clear that she wasn't moaning in pain. She squeezed her thighs together and closed her eyes, wishing all at once that the sensation would never stop and that it would change so that she could find relief. When he finally let go, Mierna was breathing heavily. She felt hot, and it had nothing to do with the fire behind her. She opened her eyes and blinked several times, unable to see anything in front of her. A touch on her cheek guided her face toward Elden. Her vision cleared and she looked at him with both surprise and desire.Why did you stop , she wanted to ask, but the tender hand still cradling her face and the fire in Elden's eyes robbed her of her ability to speak. "I do know you're not a child. It would be easier to send you away if you were." Very slowly, Elden leaned forward. Mierna's heart started thundering in her chest. She had a feeling he was giving her a chance to move away and stop what was happening, but stopping him was the very last thing she wanted. She wished she could have told him she had dreamed of this moment for months, but all she could do was look at him, at these brilliant blue eyes she knew so well, at their color made deeper, it seemed, by the dark bruises on Elden's handsome face. In her mind, his eyes were the color of strength; of love. He looked back at her so intently that she couldn't help wondering what he saw in her eyes. His lips touched hers like the caress of the wind—they were as soft, as cool, as changing against her. She let her eyes flutter close and pressed in, barely, to let him know she wanted this gentle touch he was offering her. His lips parted against hers, just enough for his tongue to peek through and sensuously slide along her bottom lip. The sensation, so delicate, so unexpected—so exciting—made her gasp lightly. Elden took this opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth for such a brief moment she thought she had imagined it. But when she didn't close her lips, he did it again, this time more slowly. Tentatively, her tongue met his, slipping against it gently. The taste of her own blood was there, but she barely noticed it, lost as she was in the feel of him. A wave of scalding heat rushed through her body. Without realizing what she was doing, she moved closer to him, wanting to feel more of his body than his mouth and the fingers stroking her cheek. She rested her hands on his chest—and Elden started back, wrenching their mouths apart. Mierna opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion; too late, she remembered the bruises she had glimpsed on his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

He laid a finger over her lips to shush her. “I'm fine. But you should go home, now.” His voice was shaking. “I'll see you and your friends tomorrow night." She didn't want to go, not so soon, but she realized what would probably happen if she stayed. A kiss—this kiss—was the most she had ever shared with a man, but she was not an innocent. She knew what happened between men and women when they married. It had been a long time since her little girl's dreams of marriage, but at that moment, even if she knew it could never happen, she wished for nothing more than to call Elden her husband and follow him to bed. Elden stood and offered her his hand to help her up. Her knees were shaking, and she held on to him until they had reached the door. Letting go was one of the most difficult things she had ever done. "Tomorrow night,” she said, both to assure herself that she would see him soon and to remind him. "Tomorrow night,” he repeated, and it was easier to leave.

Chapter 6 Mierna's steps as she followed the trail were confident. The noises around her, wind in the branches or hooting owls did not slow her down as they had a year earlier. She had gotten used to them, in the past months, and to all the strange sounds of the night while patrolling as a Fighter. It all felt a little different, though. It might have been because of the goal of her visit on this night, so different from her other visits. Or it might have been because of the frock she wore, and the sword she didn't. She missed the familiar rhythm of it hanging from her belt and bouncing against her leg every other step, but when, now and then, she absently reached for the hilt that wasn't there, it was more by habit than from nervousness. She knew there were no demons in the woods, Elden saw to that. And even if there had been, even if a demon had been hiding on her path, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, she was confident in her ability to defend herself and kill it. A lot had happened since the last Souls Night, and it had been a long time since anyone, even Elden, had called her a child. She wasn't the only one who had become a good Fighter. Almost all of them had benefited from Elden's lessons, and they hadn't lost anyone to the demons for five months—the longest amount of time without casualties since the Great Death, the Eldest said. It had started with bi-weekly lessons on how to fight with a sword, and only three other students other than Mierna. In time, more Fighters had come to observe, then join in. The Eldest himself had sat in on lessons, and while he had long since given up on carrying a weapon, he had spent long hours discussing strategy with Elden. Little by little, the way the Fighters were organized had changed; the way they responded to attacks and fought, improved. They all knew whom they had to thank for it. Several times, the idea of renewing the Pact had been raised; blood had been offered. Elden had always refused both. Mierna was the only one whose blood he took, and while the Fighters knew, they never mentioned it. Warmth spread through Mierna at the thought of Elden biting her. She did not feel any pain from it anymore; rather, offering him her blood always left her aroused and wishing for more. Each time, she hoped for another kiss, like the one they had shared what felt like a lifetime ago. She could still remember the feel of his lips, the gentleness of his touch, but as much as she wished he would kiss her again, he never had. A couple of times, she had thought he would. She had also tried to make herself take the initiative, without result; so far, she had just been too scared he would reject her. Tonight, though, she

was ready to try her chance. When she finally reached the clearing in the woods where Elden's lair stood, he was there, as he had been a year earlier, as she had thought he would be; standing in front of his Childer's graves. The seven small candles were lit already, each placed in front of a tombstone and casting light onto the all but faded names. He didn't move as she approached, but his voice rose, quiet and calm. "I told you, Mierna. I don't touch weapons on this night." "I know.” She came to stand by his side, and raised her right hand to show him the flowers she had brought. “Can I?" A few seconds passed without Elden reacting in any way. Then, very slowly, he turned to face her. It was too dark for her to see his eyes, and she had no idea what he might feel or think at that moment. "Why?” he asked at last. “You didn't know them." "I know they fought demons." After a moment of silence, he gave a short nod. Mierna could feel his eyes on her as she placed a flower beside each candle. "And I know,” she added when she was done and turned to him again, “that you loved them." She had thought for a long time about what she would say, this night. How she would convince him. It didn't make the words any easier to say, especially when Elden sounded so pained when he answered. "Not the way you mean it, but I did." She held her breath for a second before asking: “I thought vampires couldn't love." Elden cocked his head to one side. In the new angle, she could see the frown now pulling his eyebrows tighter together. "And yet, you just said yourself that I loved them." This, Mierna had not anticipated, although in retrospect she saw she should have. Caught in what she had hoped the discussion would sound like, she had overlooked this obvious flaw in her plan, and who knew what else. Her confidence wavered as she wondered if she was making a terrible mistake. If Elden did not respond the way she hoped, what would be left of their friendship? Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, she took a few steps away from the graves. A cold wind had risen while they talked, and she rubbed her arms. She wished she had taken her cloak. Elden must have noticed; without a word, he led the way inside and to the common room where a fire was lit. Still silent, he sat at the table and started setting the board of Stones and Water. He had taught Mierna to play, over the months, and oftentimes, caught in the game, he had started speaking, sharing more of himself, of his Childer, than he ever did otherwise. Mierna sat by his side and moved her first stone. They played a few turns in silence before Elden spoke

again. "So, why bring up the idea that I loved them if you didn't think vampires could love?" Her hand had just risen to pick up a game piece, but she lowered it again without moving anything. "I guess ... I hoped you would tell me the old saying that vamps love nothing save for blood and battle isn't true." Elden looked up from the board to meet her eyes at that, but he didn't comment. Mierna tried to get back to the game, but she could see already that she had made several mistakes, too distracted to play her best. If she was going to lose, she might as well get back to what she had come for. "Gorden asked me to marry him,” she said as casually as she could manage, her eyes strained on Elden so she would pick up any reaction. The glance up was brief; she would have missed it if she had blinked. But the look in his eyes, the sudden twitch in his jaw, the cold tone of his voice when he grumbled a stern, “He's a good fighter” all pointed out to the same thing. He was jealous. Mierna grinned. "I said no." He gave her a longer look this time, full of surprise and confusion. “You did?" "I'm in love with ... with someone else." She had wanted to say “with you” but at the last moment the word refused to pass her lips. She thought her hesitation would give her away, but Elden seemed to deflate as he looked down at the board again. "Oh." His empty reply almost made her smile. It was just like him to make things as difficult as they could be without even realizing what he was doing. "The first time I saw him,” she said, each word slow and measured, “I thought he was the best looking man I had ever met." His eyes remained on the board although it was still Mierna's turn. His brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything. "And then I saw him fight,” she continued, “and I learned he was courageous." She could still remember the first time she had seen Elden fight demons. He had been teaching her and the others a new move in the barn when the horn had called them to battle. She had almost gotten herself hurt when she had paid a little too much attention to the way he moved when he fought. It had been like watching him dance. "And he helped us plan to keep the village safe, and I could tell he was clever, even if he was always so quiet." Finally, he looked back at her. He was beginning to understand, but there was more she wanted to say.

"And with time I realized he was quiet because he hurt, and I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how, so I tried to be a friend. The best friend I could be." "You were,” he murmured. His hand moved toward hers on the table until their fingers wove together. Words were so inadequate, and yet they were all she had—that, and the touch of their hands—to tell him how much he meant to her. "And I've fallen in love with him, after so many nights. It always makes my heart jump in my chest when I think of him. On the nights I know I'll see him, I can barely breathe. When he kissed me, it was like ... like I died and was reborn in the same moment. And when we part, it's always like I'm cutting myself in two." "Mierna..." Her name was so soft, on his lips, no more than a caress. She wanted to hear him answer, but more than that she wanted to finish, let it all out after weeks of planning her words. "And I've thought it out, you see. There are two things I care about. Being with him, and keeping my people safe. I'd do that better if I were a vampire. If I healed faster, and moved better, and were stronger. And I could be with him...” She took a deep breath and tightened her fingers over his. “I could be with you forever." She felt lighter, suddenly, as though the words had been weighing her down and voicing them had freed her. She tried to control her breathing, but her heartbeat drummed in her ears, faster with each passing moment of silence. When Elden pulled his hand free and stood, she thought her heart would stop. "Forever isn't a word I use anymore." She watched his back as he went to the fire and needlessly prodded the logs. She couldn't panic, not now. He wouldn't take her seriously if she seemed hysterical. The last thing she wanted was for him to call her a child. "Then I won't use it either,” she said as calmly as she could despite her dried throat. “I could be with you. Period. Without having to wait for training nights, or worrying when I know you're hunting on your own." And she had worried a lot, in the past months. It seemed that every few weeks, one of his fights would take a turn for the worse and leave him with bruises or broken bones. Still facing the fire, head down and back hunched, Elden seemed smaller than he truly was. When he answered, his voice was almost too quiet for Mierna to make out the words, yet the pain in them was all too loud. "I won't watch you die like I did my other Childer." Her mind raging with too many thoughts at once, she stood and joined him. She raised a hand to rest it on his back, but he faced her suddenly and her hand landed on his chest. She left it there, amazed to find that he was trembling.

"You said I loved them, earlier, and you were right. Some vampires take the first pretty face that volunteers as their Childe without caring about who hides behind that face. I didn't. I knew each of them before I offered them to join me, and I knew what kind of vampires they would become. I promised them a life of battles. I promised them the night would be theirs, along with the respect of their people. I promised them forever.” His voice broke down, and his last words were rough as gravel. “And instead of forever, all I gave them were graves." She could feel his pain, could understand, better than ever, why he still mourned after more than two centuries, but she couldn't give up so easily. "There haven't been reports of vampires dying since the Great Death,” she said gently. “You don't know that it would happen again." "But I don't know either that it wouldn't.” The fire that burned so often in his eyes when he took her blood lit up all at once. “I won't risk losing you." It took Mierna a few seconds to realize what he wasn't quite admitting, and when she did she couldn't help smiling widely. He didn't want to sire her, but it wasn't because he didn't care enough about her as she had feared, quite the contrary. "You like me,” she breathed, giddy and incredulous all at once. Elden blinked, and then, very slowly, started smiling back. “I do. I more than like you. Are you so surprised?" "I had hoped, but..." He brought a hand to her face and brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, reveling in the feel of his fingers combing through her hair. The overload of emotions was making her lightheaded. "But what?" "You only kissed me that one time." "I wanted to do it again. I wasn't sure you did." Her hand clenched on his tunic, bunching the fabric between her fingers. Opening her eyes, she looked up at his face. A tiny part of her couldn't help but worry that he might be teasing her—but no, that wasn't like him. She could see nothing but truth on his features. She raised herself on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Immediately, he wove his arms around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, deepening the kiss. Mierna made a small sound at the back of her throat, exhilarated. His mouth was cool at first, but it slowly warmed up at her contact, like the rest of his body. When their mouths separated, she rested her cheek against his shoulder, unable to pull away completely. All she could hear was the rapid thumping of her heart and the fire crackling behind her; all she could feel, the soft material against her cheek, covering his strength without hiding it, and the light run of his hand up and down her back.

"I wasn't sure either,” he murmured against the top of her head, “that I'd be able to stop with just a kiss." His words sounded, all at once, like a promise and a plea. Mierna bit on her bottom lip for a second. Everything she had been taught asked that she pull away now before she disgraced herself and her family. But she had also been taught that women did not bear weapons, and yet the entire village recognized her for her actions as a Fighter. And while they had blamed her at first for seeking the help of a vampire, they had done the same in time and learned from Elden. Maybe it was time for her to let go of what others thought was the right thing to do and follow what her instincts told her was right. "Maybe,” she whispered, and her voice trembled a little, “you don't have to stop at just a kiss." The hand stroking her back stopped and remained still for a moment. Very gently, he placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. He searched her eyes even as he asked: “Are you sure you know what you're saying?" Mierna's cheeks felt as though they had caught fire. “I am. I want this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you." Without warning, he bent down, slid his right arm behind Mierna's knees and picked her up. Startled, she threw her arms around his neck. She held on, perhaps more tightly than necessary, as he carried her to his bedroom. After the warmth of the common room, his chambers seemed cooler, but Mierna didn't mind, not when she felt heat everywhere her body touched Elden's. Like the first time she had entered the room, it was only lit by a couple of sap candles. The near darkness helped soothe Mierna's nerves, yet at the same time she wished she could have seen Elden's face better. It didn't matter long, however, not when he was kissing her again and stealing her breath with the passion of his kiss. He let her legs go but kept her close even as she continued to cling to him. "You can still change your mind, Mierna.” He trailed his lips over her cheek them down her neck, pressing small kisses along his path. “All you need to do—" She couldn't form a word, not when her throat was tight and her mind swept by the storm of emotions he had roused, but she could show him she wasn't changing her mind. She slid her hands to the collar of his shirt and feverishly started tugging at the laces that held it closed. Her hands shook as she did, both from the realization that she was undressing a man and from her impatience at touching his skin. She was grateful when he helped, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head before letting it drop behind him. Still trembling, she let her hands slide over the smooth plane of his chest. He let out a small humming sound when her fingers skimmed over his flat nipples. She retraced her path just to hear him again, then continued to explore his chest. She searched for a scar on his abdomen where she had wounded him just a year earlier, but could find nothing and moved on to caress the sides of his body. The entire time, he remained immobile in front of her. She could feel the tension in his body, all his muscles coiled and ready to act, and so she felt even more privileged that he was giving her this moment to discover him. Sliding over his shoulders, she let her fingers follow his arms down to his hands and took them in hers. With a deep, shaky breath, she guided them to the fastenings of her frock. "Did you wear this for me?” Elden asked, his deft fingers unbuttoning the row of small buttons. It wasn't just a frock, she wanted to say, but her best one, the one she wore on festivals and for big occasions. She only replied with a nod, however, still unable to say a word.

"I wish I had told you before how beautiful you are.” The buttons now undone, he slipped his hands to her back and tugged loose the large bow that served as a belt for the frock. “When we train, sometimes I have to force myself to look away because of the way you move. You can be very ... distracting." He pulled her frock up on the last word. Left to stand in front of him in nothing more than a shift, stockings and shoes, Mierna shivered. "Cold?” he asked right away. “I can light a fire." "Or we could get under the blankets." The words didn't rise higher than a whisper, but Mierna felt a bit of pride at having overcome her shyness enough to make such a bold statement. Bending down, she pulled off her shoes, then her socks, but couldn't finish undressing with the weight of Elden's gaze on her. "Close your eyes,” she requested. She could see Elden smile, but he did as she asked. She pulled the shift over her head in one quick motion and hurried to get beneath the bed's thick covers. "You can open your eyes now." He did, and looked toward her, still smiling. “Will you close your eyes? Or will you look?" Before she could answer, he was leaning down to tug his boots off. She closed her eyes quickly—and had to open them again seconds later, too curious to resist. She swallowed hard at the sight of him, standing nude in front of the bed, his cock jutting away from his body. A strange sensation slid over her, warming her skin and making her yearn for Elden's touch. She shifted back into the bed, making room for him, and he climbed in next to her. Lying on his side, he leaned toward her and pressed his lips to her mouth for a chaste, quick kiss, then kissed his way down to her collarbone. She startled when he rested a hand on her knee, tensing in anticipation, then relaxed again when his fingers remained light and gentle as they skimmed up and down her thigh. She wanted to return his touch. Her nerves, however, were getting the best of her again, and all she could make herself do was rest a hand on his shoulder. "Can I?” he murmured. Her mind a little fuzzy, Mierna breathed her assent even though she wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. It wasn't long until she knew. The same hand that had been caressing her thigh slid farther up, tickling gently along her ribs and then coming up to cup her left breast. Her hand tightened on Elden's shoulder. Without thinking, she shifted a little closer to him. His cock brushed against her thigh and she held her breath for a second. He was so hard... His thumb flicked over her nipple. She gasped at the sensation, then again when he did it a second time. Pure heat was running through her, and again she tried to get closer to Elden. He slid his hand back to her thigh. Before she had time to miss it, his mouth descended on her breast and sucked lightly on her hardened nipple. She moaned. The feel of his lips and tongue was unlike anything she had ever imagined and she arched up into his touch.

It couldn't get better than this, she thought. The next second, it did. While she was lost in the caress of his mouth, now gently torturing her other nipple, his hand had moved to the apex of her legs and done ... something. Something that he did again, and again, stroking his thumb to that small, hardening nub above her slit. She closed her eyes. The heat burning her body only intensified until she was writhing under Elden's touch. His mouth left her and she opened her eyes again. His face was above hers. He was watching her with such intensity ... She reached up to kiss him. His thumb pressed in a little harder. Mierna cried out against his lips, overwhelmed with pleasure, then went slack against him. She was still breathing hard when he picked up her hand and guided it to his cock. She left it there, immobile, for a few moments, then started running her fingertips against the length of it, as softly and delicately as Elden's fingers against her folds. He spread out the wetness he found there, coating his fingers and then sliding one past her nether lips. Surprised by the new feeling, Mierna stilled and tried to decide whether she liked it. A second finger felt a little uncomfortable, but as Elden caressed her, lightly stroking her inner walls, she got used to it and relaxed into the touch. It still felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant at all. "Ready?" She answered Elden's tense question with a quiet hum. With a tender hand he pulled her legs apart and rolled into the space between them, supporting his weight on his forearm. Weaving her arms around his neck, Mierna pulled him down for a kiss. She parted her lips and licked along the seam of his mouth. He responded by sliding the tip of his cock against her folds. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and at the same time, Elden slid inside her, slow and smooth. The width of his cock stretched her beyond what his fingers had hinted at, but as he took shallow thrusts, she got used to the feeling. The pain, however, took her by surprise and she moaned against Elden's mouth. He stilled completely inside her and soothed her with small kisses all over her face. His hand caressed her hair. After a few moments, the pain had faded to a dull throb. She gave a small nod, and Elden began moving again, gradually increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. It was exactly what Mierna's cousin had described, in hushed tones and amidst embarrassed laughs, a few weeks after her wedding. At the same time, though, it was like nothing Mierna could have imagined, nothing she could ever describe to anyone. She felt as though she had found a piece of herself she had never known was lost until that instant. She tightened her arms around Elden's back, pulling him down to her chest where she could feel all of his body along hers. "I love you,” she murmured. Elden jerked inside her as though he had lost control on himself. Mierna grinned and repeated the words, then again, until he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with the same desperation of his thrusting hips. Abruptly, he broke the kiss and groaned as he arched deep inside her. She caressed his back, feeling him shaking against her, and delighted in the pleasure she could just barely see on his face. After a few moments, he slid off her body to rest by her side. “I'm sorry." "Sorry?” she repeated, unsure what he meant. She turned toward him, but he now had his back to the candles and she couldn't make out his face in the near darkness of the room. “Sorry for what?"

He shifted a little against her. She could almost have thought he was fidgeting. "I'm sorry I didn't make it any better for you. All I can say is that it had been a very long time since I had anyone in my bed." She wasn't certain she liked to hear him hinting at his past lovers, but she still didn't understand why he was apologizing. "It gets ... better?” she asked, a little embarrassed by her naiveté. “This was ... nice. Really." She was grateful now for the lack of light. Her face had to be as brightly red as the roses she had left on the tombs outside. To call ‘nice’ the warmth and pleasure still coursing through her felt grossly inadequate, but she didn't know how else to describe these new feelings. "It can be better than nice,” Elden assured her. He leaned into her to press a kiss to her shoulder then added self-deprecatingly: “When your lover has a little self-control, it can be." Very slowly, still feeling shy even after what they had shared and yet at the same time emboldened by his sheepishness, she slid her hand to rest over his cock. It was soft beneath her fingers, but when she dared stroke it, oh so lightly, she could feel it begin to harden under her touch. He let out a quiet moan and pushed into her hand. Mierna smiled, delighted that she could have this effect on him. "If you're not happy with what you did,” she murmured, “maybe we could try again?"

Chapter 7 Mierna was asleep. She knew she was asleep. She was dreaming. She knew that too. It wasn't unusual for her to have vivid dreams that she would remember in the morning. Often, in the past months, her dreams had featured Elden in such a prominent way that she had blushed to herself upon waking up. This was different, though. Rather than the sharp, colorful images she was used to, she walked in a foggy landscape. There wasn't anything but wisps of translucent smoke dancing around her. Even the ground felt immaterial beneath her bare feet. "Strange dream,” she said aloud, breaking the silence. The words seemed to reverberate around her. "Is it?" She started at the amused question. There wasn't anyone there that she could see—and then there was. Shapes just a shade darker than the fog slowly solidified a few feet in front of her, and soon there were seven figures facing her, four men and three women. Even though their faces remained blurry, Mierna was certain she had never met them before. And yet, even as the thought entered her mind, she knew who they were; Elden's Childer. "Souls Night." The words had escaped her lips before she even knew she was speaking. "Souls Night, yes.” It was the closest woman who had spoken. “You placed flowers on our graves."

The woman walked a little closer still while the rest stayed back. Her features sharpened a little, as did her clothing, and the sword in its scabbard. She was about Mierna's height. Her hair, black as coal, fell in waves on her shoulders. Just like Mierna knew she was dreaming, just like she had known these were Elden's Childer and they had come to her because of Souls Night, she knew who the woman now standing right in front of her was. "Elden gave me your sword,” she blurted out, and suddenly the sword wasn't hanging from the woman's—Deborah's—waist. Instead, it was in Mierna's hand. "He gave you more than my sword,” Deborah said with a barely there smile. “He hadn't willingly spoken to anyone since long before your parents had shared their first kiss. He gave you himself. You'll have to believe me when I say it means a lot more than an old sword." "Does it?" Mierna looked at the sword in her hand. It slowly disappeared until she was holding nothing more than air. When she looked up again, Deborah had lost her smile. "It does. If you show Elden." "If I ... what?" Behind Deborah, the other shadowy figures were slowly fading out. Deborah herself looked less clear, suddenly. "You asked him to make you a vampire. Why did you let him refuse?" Mierna shook her head. “He won't listen—" "Of course he will,” Deborah cut in impatiently. “Wasn't he listening when you told him you're in love with him?” If she noticed Mierna's blush, she didn't mention it. “He distracted both of you by taking you to his bed, but he wants it as much as you do. He's been so lonely. Ready to give up. Why else do you think he allows himself to be hurt so often?" Mierna blinked, unsure she understood. Surely, Deborah couldn't mean that Elden had courted death? She didn't have the chance to ask for an explanation, however. Deborah was talking faster, now, as though she didn't have much time. "The only reason he won't sire you is his fear you'd die like we did. So tell him this. Tell him this is a message from me. Tell him it won't happen again, and he won't lose you the same way he lost us." "He won't believe me,” Mierna said, her voice urgent as Deborah was becoming more and more translucent. "He will. Remind him he was ready to take a new Childe when the Great Death came, and it's time he finally did. And tell him we miss him too." Mierna barely heard the last few words; they were as faint as Deborah's silhouette in front of her. But before she disappeared completely, she gave Mierna one last smile—and Mierna knew, once again, without knowing where the knowledge came from, why Deborah had taken the lead and talked to her

while the others remained in the background. She blinked. When her eyes opened again, she was back in Elden's bed; in Elden's arms. He must have left the bed while she slept, because a bright fire now warmed and lit the room. She shifted a little, pulling away from his chest just enough to see his face. His eyes were open, and softened a little when they met hers. "Warm enough?” he murmured. "Yes. Thank you." How strange to be talking to him, now, when moments ago she had been talking to someone who had been dead for two centuries—or had she? She needed to know if what she had experienced had been real, or a trick her mind had played on her. She needed to be sure that all these things she had come to know had been real. "Deborah...” She said the name hesitantly, and flinched when Elden's expression hardened. Still, she couldn't stop now. “She was your first Childe, wasn't she? And your favorite until the day she died." The shock clearly spelled out on Elden's face answered her before he did so in words. She could feel his body tense against hers. "How did you know?" Would he think she was insane, if she told him? Or would he believe her, and finally accept to sire her, as Deborah had all but promised he would? She had to take the chance. "She ... she talked to me." The shock disappeared, leaving in its wake a blank expression. Elden freed his arm from beneath Mierna's neck and rolled onto his back. "She's dead, Mierna. It was a dream." Sitting up so she could see his face as she spoke, Mierna tried to find the words to explain. She could barely believe herself what had happened, but she could believe even less that she had guessed who Deborah had been exactly without outside help. "It was a dream, yes, but at the same time it wasn't. She said because of Souls Night ... well, she didn't explain, really. But she said things, things I couldn't know otherwise." Elden sighed, and when he asked “Things like what?” he was clearly humoring her. "Like ... she said they miss you too." He closed his eyes at that, and she took the small gesture as meaning he wasn't convinced. She hurried to relay something else Deborah had told her. "She said ... the Great Death won't happen again. And I won't die if you sire me."

In a flash, his eyes opened again, pain burning in them. The next second, he was out of the bed and pacing in front of the fireplace. "You think that by using her name you'll make me change my mind?” he asked, his voice as cold and lifeless as winter. “You should have more respect for the dead, Mierna, especially those who fought so that your ancestors could live." "I do respect her,” she protested. Her hands clenched on the blanket she was holding up to cover herself. “I respect all of them. That's why I won't stop fighting demons. Even if I didn't love you, I still wouldn't have accepted to marry Gorden. Don't you see this is all I ever wanted?" "You don't know what you're saying. You don't know the consequences—" "I know I could die every time I fight!” she interrupted, getting annoyed now that he couldn't see she was telling the truth. “I'm ready for it." His demeanor changed instantly. He stopped pacing and turned to her. With his back to the flames, she couldn't distinguish his face. His voice, though, let her now how upset he was at the idea of her death. "Don't say that,” he pleaded. "Why not? It's true. I am a Fighter and I will die a Fighter. I've known it since as long as I can remember." "Don't say that,” he repeated, and took a tentative step toward the bed. "It's a matter of time,” she insisted. “Nothing you can say will save me. But you can give me a longer time fighting if you make me a vampire." A bit of strength returned to his voice. “No. I won't take the risk—" It was the same argument again, but this time Mierna remembered something else Deborah had told her. "Deborah said you had been about to take a new Childe when they all died. Haven't you waited long enough?" She held her breath while waiting to see if he would believe her, this time. After remaining frozen for a little while, he returned to the bed and knelt next to her on the mattress, his hands closed in tight fists on his thighs. "She ... she really talked to you?" He sounded agitated, but now that she could see his face again, now that she could read his eyes, Mierna could recognize the hunger she had first witnessed almost a year earlier, when she had first offered him her blood. She had thought, then, and every time after that, that it was hunger for blood that consumed him. Now, however, she wondered if instead he wasn't yearning for contact and companionship. For someone to share blood with, yes, but also to teach, to hold, to care for. Someone to love without fearing death. "She did,” she replied very gently.

She let go of the blanket she was holding to her chest and rested her right hand on top of one of Elden's fists. It uncurled slowly, and pulled at the cover even as Elden lay down next to her again. "The time of the Pacts is over,” he said, his voice shaking. Had they been fighting with swords, it would have been the last desperate attack of a fighter who knew he had lost. "I know that. I'm not speaking for Riverside, only for myself. I want to fight. And I want to be with you. And there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind." "Nothing I can say, maybe, but others might help you see things differently. I give you one year." Her eyes widened. Did he mean— "In one year,” he continued, his tone more assured now, “if you ask me again, I will turn you." Mierna slid closer to him until their bodies were pressed together. “I won't change my mind, do it now." The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “No. One year." She closed the distance between their lips for a quick, chaste kiss. When she pulled back, he tried to follow her for more. She grinned. "You won't wait that long,” she said, sure of herself. "I've waited two hundred years,” he pointed out as he slowly ran a hand over the side of her body. “One more is nothing." Mierna shivered at his touch but fought herself to answer him. “And every day, I'll ask you to reconsider." His smile was now frank and wide. “I'm sure you will," "I'll use all of my arguments to change your mind." She punctuated her near promise with a light touch of a finger against his hardening cock. Elden drew in a deep breath before leaning in closer to press a kiss her shoulder. "I'm sure you will do that too. But if it comes to that, you'll learn that Childer follow where their Sire leads, not the other way around." "Maybe. But it doesn't apply until you actually sire me." He paused against her, pulled back, and she could see he looked dumbstruck. She laughed, then kissed him again. She was ready to bet that by the time the snows had come and gone, she would have changed his mind. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him tight against her and hid her smile against his neck. The End

About the Author: Kallysten is a French citizen whose most exciting accomplishment to date was to cross a few thousand miles and an ocean to pursue (and catch!) the love of her life. She has been writing for almost fifteen years, and always enjoyed sharing her stories and listening to the readers’ reactions. After playing with science fiction, short stories, poetry and fanfiction, she is now trying her hand, heart and words at paranormal romance novels. To see her other novels, visit: original.kallysten.net Other stories in The Pacts series available at Alinar Publishing: All Things Except Blood Vampire Eyrin lives in a world in which her kind seals pacts with humans and protects them from fearsome demons in exchange for blood. She is one of her clan's strongest fighters, until the night when she is gravely wounded, in both her flesh and spirit. Disfigured, she hides from all and refuses to feed. Returning to the lair, her human lover Ian is shocked to discover her condition but resolute to show her she is still as beautiful in his eyes. He offers her blood and comfort, causing Eyrin to do the one thing forbidden to Childer—take his life. When Ian awakens a vampire, sired not by her but by the clan's Master instead, Eyrin reluctantly takes on the task of teaching him about his new existence. But her guilt over killing him makes this responsibility a heavy burden for Eyrin, and the new relationship they forge is a far cry from the one they used to share. Will Ian be able to reach out for her again, or will she keep her door and heart locked to him? Her Last Words (November ‘07) Two centuries have passed since the Master Vampire Gabrielle made the biggest mistake of her life. Two centuries since her plan backfired, resulting not in the destruction of demons as she had hoped, but instead in the slaughtering of countless humans and vampires that had been fighting against them. Two centuries also, since she pushed away her favorite Childe, without ever telling him why. Two centuries of fighting alone to protect the humans she has sworn to defend from demons. Two centuries of missing Erik. When he finally reappears in her life, she thinks she has been offered a second chance. But she soon realizes that she will need to face her mistakes to reach him, and understand that silence can be more painful than words. www.alinarpublishing.com

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