Vincent easily pinned the creature against a wall and bashed his head repeatedly against the bricks. Then Vincent made as if to break the creature's neck.
"I do not know who ye are,” Vincent whispered menacingly, “and I do not know how ye performed that little trick in the museum, but stay away from me and mine. Or I will crush yer fangs while ye squirm beneath me."
With that said, Vincent pushed the creature away from him. The blonde-haired vampire stumbled across the alley. After throwing a look with daggers in it, the youngster ran off.
Vincent stepped close to Katherine as she clutched the poor child close. He placed his hand on the child's forehead.
"How is she?"
"She will live,” Katherine replied.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Vincent took Katherine's hand, and they hid the child nearby.
He then hugged her. “Who is he, Katherine? Why is he hunting us?"
Katherine gulped, afraid of her own answer. “I fear he is my sire."
Vincent's eyes widened, and he released her from his embrace. Grabbing her shoulders, he held her at arms length. His face became paler than usual. “That's impossible."
"Why?” Katherine asked fearfully.
"Because I killed him."
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Ten
Castle in France
The hour was late, and Katherine was reading in the study. Vincent had yet to return from feeding, and the castle shadows whispered ominously around her. They had a few servants who worked during the day, but she was now completely alone save for the black panther sleeping at her feet. After the episode with the young vampire, Vincent had insisted on a pet for her protection.
Suddenly, the panther's ears perked up, and it raised its head. Then it quietly rose to its feet and left the room. Engrossed in her book, Katherine took no notice of the panther's absence.
A few minutes later, a shadow fell across her page. She looked up to greet her mate, but her welcoming smile fell instantly. The young vampire stood before her, clad in black. He held a bloody nine inch dagger, and as Katherine watched, he licked it clean. The steel cut his tongue to shreds, but that mattered not to him. He enjoyed the pain, knowing it healed as fast as it cut.
When he was through, he smiled secretively at Katherine. Frantically, she looked around for her panther and started to get to her feet, but he blocked her escape. He placed both hands on each arm of the chair and shook his head.
"A fine meal,” he whispered and licked his lips languorously.
Horrified, Katherine's stomach knotted, and she shrank back in the chair. Her voice sounded small and weak. “Vincent will be back any minute."
Beaux raised the point of the dagger and toyed with the cross at her neck. “Still have faith after all these years, eh sweet Katherine? Haven't you learned by now there is no God?"
Lifting her head a notch, Katherine glowered at him. “I think it best ye take yer leave."
"Really, now, and what if I do not?"
"Why do ye hound us so?"
"I think you know why, Katherine,” he whispered. “You are my creation. You belong to me, not him."
Katherine's lip trembled. “Vincent swore he killed ye."
"Oh, he did,” he nodded. “He most assuredly did."
Katherine swallowed over the lump in her throat. “But ye were born again."
"To another lovely father who delighted in abuse,” he growled. “How history repeats itself."
"Do ye not think it is a second chance for redemption, Beaux?"
His top lip curled up in a sneer. “Redemption from whom, Katherine? There is no God."
Beaux's patience had reached its limits. He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet. Before she could object, he smashed his cold lips against hers in what was supposedly a kiss. She tried to push him away, but his strength was greater.
When he at last pulled away, Katherine's hand slapped his cheek, leaving a red print. She then swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and spit on his foot. His hand automatically lashed out and sent her sprawling across the room.
Stunned, she lay still in a crumpled heap. No man had dared strike her before. Gingerly, she touched her lip with her tongue, wincing at the cut. It would heal, but Vincent would be in a rage if he saw it.
Leaving her no chance to recuperate, Beaux yanked her to her feet and dragged her toward the door of the study. She was speechless as he continued to pull her out into the main hall. As they passed a small table, her hand snatched an expensive vase from it and smashed it over his head. He let go of her arm and sank to his knees, clutching his head and hollering in pain.
Seizing the opportunity, she raced out of the castle. She had to find Vincent. Calling the wind to carry her, she flew toward the city of Paris, crying out to Vincent telepathically. He never answered her.
* * * *
Katherine ran as fast as she could through the alleys of Paris, hoping the people would hinder Beaux. Unfortunately, it delayed her as well. She continuously bumped into people and carts before she realized they were there. She was too busy looking over her shoulder, and every time she did, Beaux was close behind.
You cannot lose me, he shouted telepathically.
Frightened, Katherine increased her speed and focused on dodging those in her path. She raced up one alley and down the next, turning corners frequently. When she at last came to a dead end, she let out a cry of frustration and turned to face the devil.
Relief washed over her when she didn't see him. Worn out, she rested against the wall and fought the fear that rose inside of her. Bloody tears of frustration poured down her face.
Vincent, where are you?
Strong hands grasped Katherine's trembling shoulders. “There, there, love,” whispered a deep familiar voice.
Katherine buried her face in the man's shoulder. “Oh, Vincent, thank God—"
Stopping in mid-sentence, she took in a deep breath. He did not smell like Vincent. Yet when she raised her head, it was Vincent's face she saw. Confusion flashed through her as the man pushed her against the wall. Their bodies pressed together, and he placed his fingers on her lips when she tried to pose a question.
"Shhhh,” he whispered, bending to capture her mouth with his.
Wind whipped around them as they rose in the air. His arms tightened around her waist, and he carried her through the night. She relaxed, falling into the illusion that Vincent was taking her home. Her relief turned to fear when she looked once more at his face.
Beaux grinned diabolically at her. Enraged at being tricked, Katherine struggled to get free. Although he was stronger than her, she managed to kick him in the right place, and all of his superior strength vanished. Curling up in pain, he let go of her, and she plummeted to the earth. She summoned her own wind and quickly caught herself. Then she headed back toward the city.
* * * *
Katherine stood before the church of Notre Dame. The magnificent structure took her breath away. To her vampiric eyes, the building seemed alive.
There were three doorways to enter the cathedral: the Portal of St. Anne, the Portal of Judgment, and the Portal of the Virgin Mary. Katherine rushed to the door of the Christ child's mother, hoping against hope that she would be allowed to enter.
Holding her breath, Katherine merely touched the doors, and they sprang wide open. All were welcome in God's house.
No sooner had she crossed the threshold than Beaux appeared outside the door. “Katherine, stop."
Haughtily, Katherine turned to face him with her hands on her hips. The candles of the church illuminated her body, and she appeared to glow as if warmed by God's hands. Unsure, Beaux backed up a step or two.
"Thought you didn't believe, Beaux,” Katherine whispered.
Taking advantage of his hesitancy, she slammed the door in his face and slipped deeper into the church. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't actually follow her inside. The few churchmen in the pews did not notice Katherine as sh
e blended into the shadows and waited.
* * * *
Daylight was one hour away, and Katherine was trapped in the cathedral. She had wandered throughout the building but could not find a good place to sleep. Every time she went to leave, Beaux blocked her escape. Yet something refrained him from entering.
At one point, Katherine placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot in frustration. “Isn't it past yer bedtime yet?” she snapped.
Beaux grinned ruthlessly. “I'll be glad to go to bed, but only if you're in it."
Katherine huffed and shut the door in his face. She chewed on her lower lip, deep in thought. Time was slipping away, and sleep would creep over her whether she wanted it to or not. She shuddered at what would happen should a priest stumble over her sleeping body.
She sighed, blowing bangs out of her face. She had an idea but wasn't sure if it would work. She raced through the church and found her way up to one of the twin towers on the roof.
A soft breeze blew around her as she cautiously looked for her pursuer. Relief flooded through her when she didn't see him. She ran across the covered tower to one of the arched windows. Just as she got to the edge, Beaux rose up before her. He held out his hand.
"The sun is on the horizon. No more playing. I know a place nearby."
Frowning, Katherine glanced from his hand to the lightening sky. Shades of pink edged into the dark blueness of night. Already, she could feel the sun's unbearable heat. Defeated, she reluctantly placed her hand in his. At least as his prisoner, she would still walk among the living.
* * * *
Katherine's eyes flew open, and she took a quick survey of their hiding place. Beaux had brought her to the catacombs, and they had slept the day away behind a wall of bones.
Quickly determining that Beaux still slept, she gently removed his heavy arm from her waist. She slipped quietly into the passageway, and without looking back, she ran as fast as possible. It took her forever to reach the city streets, and just as she did, she heard Beaux's cry of anger. She didn't have much time.
Once again, she ran through the streets of Paris. The crazed vampire never seemed far behind. There was no place for her to run, no place to hide. She desperately wanted to know why Vincent wasn't answering her call.
Then, a box seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Katherine tripped over it. She crashed head first into a brick wall. Stunned, she laid still, too shocked to even get to her feet. Seconds later, Beaux stood triumphantly above her.
"You should not have run,” he growled angrily. “I tire of the chase."
Kneeling beside Katherine, he held her face between his palms. Placing a kiss on her lips, he whispered, “I hate to have to do this, love."
Jerking her head to the side, Katherine felt the bones in her neck pop as he broke them. Blackness swirled around her, sucking her into the healing sleep.
Beaux rubbed his thumb over her slack lips. “But you asked for it."
* * * *
When Vincent left the castle earlier that night, he had set out for Paris, but he never reached the city. Thinking himself lucky, he had found a victim stumbling drunkenly in the nearby woods.
Appearing before her in a fog, Vincent motioned the old hag close. Her rancid breath betrayed the inner evil that rotted her soul. Innocent babes had suffered at her hands, and Vincent gladly sank his teeth into her neck.
A few minutes later, he began to feel a bit drunk. At first, he thought it was from the alcohol in the hag's blood, but when his body became cold and numb instead of warming up, Vincent knew something was wrong.
The old hag fell to the ground with a dull thump, and Vincent stared abstractedly at his upturned palms. His vision blurred, and his head began to pound. He soon fell beside the dead woman, paralyzed.
Dear God, I've been poisoned, but how?
Everything clicked into place as the young vampire suddenly appeared above him. Beaux tilted his head with feigned concern. “Not feeling well?"
The blonde-haired fiend shook his head sadly and looked up at the sky. “Only a few hours til sun rise, and no place for you to hide. What a shame."
A sinking sensation engulfed Vincent as he realized he was doomed. The poison worked quickly, and as darkness consumed him, he briefly wondered which gates he would end up at—Heaven's or Hell's.
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Eleven
Beaux was in the study of Vincent and Katherine's castle. He sat in the same chair he had found Katherine in two nights ago. His left leg was propped up on a foot stool, and his long hair draped over one side of his face as he concentrated on his present task.
The tip of his dagger dug beneath his nails as he cleaned away the dirt. Once done, he traced the lines in his palm with the point of the knife. Drops of blood rose to the surface, and he watched in fascination as his skin healed almost instantly. Then he licked the pool of blood from his palm.
Stretching his arm out against his leg, Beaux took the silver dagger and laid the cool blade flat against his skin. Ever so slowly, he drew the blade in and downward. His eyes closed as he savored the sweet sharpness of the knife's bite. Blood oozed down his arm, but as before, the cuts healed quickly.
Sighing, Beaux sheathed his dagger, wishing he had healed like that when mortal. Then his father never would have found out. Beaux would have been spared the trips to that horrible mental institute. Upon reflection, Beaux's first and second lives ran so parallel to each other, he sometimes blended the two together.
Restless, he jumped to his feet and pulled the dagger back out. Pacing the room, he ran the tip back and forth over his palm absentmindedly. The cutting eased his agitation to some extent, and he swore to himself that this go around would be different.
* * * *
On the eve of the New Year, 1623, Beaux left home. He was seventeen, a man, and no longer need suffer the fist of his father. Unfortunately, he also left his best friend, Vincent, but the untamed wild called to Beaux. Jamestown, Virginia was no longer his home, and he was not going to let friendship keep him under his father's thumb.
The night was pitch black, and Beaux led his horse through the sleeping town. It was incredibly easy, and he felt an abundance of joy as he escaped into the surrounding wilderness. He had no idea where he was going, but any place was better than Jamestown.
Beaux rode the stallion hard through the cold winter night, anxious to get as far from his father as possible. He knew his father would be furious and would send men after him, but Beaux had no intention of going back.
All of a sudden, his stallion stopped running and came to a complete standstill. No matter what Beaux did, the stallion refused to move. Angrily, he slid from the horse.
"What the hell is wrong with ye?” he growled softly.
Beaux carefully checked the horse over, but nothing seemed wrong with it. Agitated, he leaned against a tree and stared at the horse in frustration. He slipped a small knife from his waist and began digging the point into his flesh. Bright red blood dripped onto the clean white snow, but he was oblivious to the damage he did to himself. In fact, it seemed to calm him.
When the young woman appeared in front of him, Beaux practically jumped out of his skin. He cursed loudly, but she ignored his ugly outburst. She grabbed his cut-up hand and raised it to her lips. Her soft tongue touched his sensitive flesh, and he watched in complete fascination as she licked the blood from his flesh.
Almost shyly, the girl let go of his hand and took two steps back. To his amazement, the cuts were healed. He looked at her with furrowed brows.
"How—"
"Shhh,” she whispered. “Do ye truly wish revenge on yer father?"
Beaux gulped. He had often daydreamed about what he would do to his father if he had the chance. How could this spit of a girl help him reduce his father to a sniveling heap?
Beaux nodded. “Aye, that I do, lass, but how can a mere girl such as ye help me?"
She stepped close to Beaux, pulling him to her. She was tal
l but was still forced to look up into his face. Lightly, she touched his lips with hers and sighed.
"Men,” she whispered. “They always think themselves superior."
Grabbing Beaux by the arms, she pushed him. His face registered shock as he flew across the clearing and landed on his rump. She was beside him before he could blink an eye, pinning him roughly to the ground.
Not allowing him a chance to speak, the woman roughly bared his neck. Her tongue licked along Beaux's salty flesh, and he felt an unexpected burst of desire run through him. He pulled her close, wanting more. Cloaking the pain with lust, the woman's teeth ripped into Beaux's jugular vein, changing him forever.
* * * *
Beaux stopped pacing in front of the fire. The year was 1893 not 1623. If things were going to be different, he was going to have to stop wallowing in the past.
He tilted his head to the side. His prisoner was waking. He wanted to be there when she did. It was time she came to face that her life now belonged to him.
* * * *
Katherine moaned softly. Her neck was so sore. It hurt to move her head.
The bed dipped as someone sat beside her. Wearily, she struggled to open her eyes. The candlelight hurt, and she squinted up at her visitor.
Beaux's long hair tickled her arms as he leaned over her. She noted that his green eyes truly held concern, but she still shied away when he lifted his hand to touch her cheek.
He clenched his fist at her reaction, struggling to control his anger. A little slipped through as he dug his knuckles into her cheek. Growling, he got up from the bed and put space between them. Anxiously, Katherine looked around, assuring herself that she was in her own room.
"Where is Vincent?"
"Why must everything be about Vincent?” Beaux snarled. He pulled out the dagger.
Katherine's wide eyes focused on the nine inch silver blade, and she sat up in the bed and pulled the covers protectively around her. “I do not love ye, Beaux. I never did. Why can't ye accept it and move on?"
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