Chapter 5

     He thought of the first time it had happened.
     Evelyn, in the last stages of her pregnancy, had been unwell, they hadn’t been able to make 
love for almost three months. Her younger sister, Eve, was there to help her. From his vantage of 
twenty-six he had regarded the sixteen-year-old as a child. Had he been older, he might have known 
better. She had followed him like a puppy, reminding him of his younger brother who had trailed 
him everywhere when they were children. Evelyn’s baby was due in a couple of weeks. He had 
returned home late from some errand that he no longer remembered. The horse was lame and he 
stayed in the stables, trying to find out what was wrong with it. He found a stone that had stuck in 
the hoof and was trying to remove it when there was a sudden breeze that made the oil lamp flicker. 
Somebody had come in.
     Eve was standing just a few feet away from him, in a dressing gown. 
     "Eve, what’s wrong? What are you doing up in the middle of the night?" A sudden fear 
gripped him. "Is Evelyn all right?"
     But she shook her head and took off her dressing gown without uttering a word. He looked at 
her uncomprehendingly, and her nightgown came off in the next instant. He couldn’t help but stare.
     The sixteen-year-old child had the body of an adult goddess. His starved body screamed in desire,
the reaction so powerful that it was painful. He rose slowly and she moved towards him. The 
smell of horses and fresh hay would forever be connected in his mind with that night of lust and 
betrayal. He could still make himself sick by thinking about it, although more than a hundred and 
forty years had since passed. 
     But Eve had lost more than her virginity that night. As their bodies rolled in the hay, the 
feeling of impending doom was mingled with the pleasures of the flesh. No matter how hard he 
tried to keep away from her, his body would betray him every night, and he would seek her out and 
make love to her until dawn. They would come together in violent clashes, quite oblivious of the 
world around them. He saw that something was terribly wrong with her, but his desire-ridden mind 
refused to acknowledge that. 
     Ten days later Evelyn died in childbirth, and by then it was quite obvious that Eve was insane. 
Julian and Eve had sneaked away to the stables again that night. They could feel safe there, nobody 
would hear them. She had opened her thighs for him in joyous abandon, urging him to come to her. 
The primitive lust had taken over and there was no hesitation in either of them. They had heaved and 
screamed until they were both totally exhausted.
     When Julian returned to the house, he found Evelyn barely conscious, in a grisly heap on the 
floor by her bed, bathed in her own blood. Apparently, she had got up trying to find help, but 
hadn’t gotten far. A healthy baby boy was born two hours later, but Evelyn didn’t recover from the 
loss of blood and died just half an hour later.
     In his despair Julian refused to see anybody, his brother’s family took care of the baby. Julian 
was close to losing his mind. He regarded Evelyn’s death as a punishment. He had turned Eve 
away, telling her that he didn’t want to see her again. He was quite sure that he would never touch 
another woman again: he never did - as a mortal. 
     Some weeks later, when Julian was on the verge of committing suicide, Archon came to his 
house. Archon was well known. He was a wealthy landowner, always on the lookout for able men 
who could work for him. He had heard about the tragedy that had befallen the young family. He 
had taken care of Eve and placed her in the asylum for the insane when she became violent and 
unmanageable. But before that, he found out from her what had really transpired; things that others 
only whispered about. 
     Archon offered to take Julian in and he accepted. He had no will of his own left. The rumor 
had it that he had killed his pregnant wife in order to be with his sister in law. As far as Julian was 
concerned, the rumor was true. Only he had never wanted to harm his wife in any way. He had 
loved her very much, her death was his castigation. 
     Julian Luna became Archon’s most appreciated enforcer. He was savage and fearless, but 
seemed to harbor a death wish that appalled Archon. Eventually, Archon understood that he would 
lose Julian in a shoot-out or a fight; his wish to die was too apparent. 
     It would be such a waste, Archon thought, and decided to do something about it. 
     One night, when Julian had been more morose than usual, Archon told him about the Masquerade and
offered to Embrace him. Julian had been horrified at first, but became fascinated 
when Archon explained what it meant to be a Kindred. 
     "Why do you want to do it?" Julian had asked Archon at last.
     "You’re trying to get yourself killed anyway," Archon had responded. "If you refuse, I’ll kill 
you right now and you won’t have to suffer anymore. But if you accept, your life expectancy would 
increase somewhat," Archon had laughed. "I have need of you."
     For all his unhappiness and despair, Julian didn’t want to die.
     He was Embraced by Archon before the morning came. 
     It took some time however, before he came to terms with his new condition. But Archon was a 
good teacher and a formidable leader. Slowly, Julian’s grief started to subside and he became more 
and more involved in Kindred affairs. Archon was pleased. A couple of years passed and Julian met 
a woman. She was a rare mixture, half Chinese, half Native American. Her beauty was exceeded 
only by her temperament. In her arms, Julian rediscovered his need for the intimacy of sex and 
learned about his capacity for giving and receiving pleasure. The liaison lasted only a few months, 
but the fire had been kindled, and to Archon’s dismay, Julian began to make quite an impact among 
the female population, human and Kindred alike. But he seldom built genuine bonds with the 
women he bedded and some of the ladies took umbrage. There were scandals, threats of retribution, 
a suicide, and quite a few cases of unbalanced reactions. 
     Years later, Julian posed himself the question: Was he drawn to the women who had a streak 
of madness in them, or was he the cause of it? He didn’t find an answer. The disagreeable 
intermezzos recurred with unpleasant regularity, making him vow each time that he would stay away 
from women. However, his own sensuality, as well as the ladies’ interest, made him break his vows 
with equal regularity. But this was the first time he had killed one of these high-strung women with 
his own hands. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, the question returned with even greater 
urgency:
     Am I driving Caitlin mad?
     Julian stayed away from Caitlin for a couple of days, but when he came to her, he found her 
bedroom door locked. Being a Ventrue, he didn’t own the Nosferatu ability to pass through locked 
doors. Of course, he was quite capable of breaking down that door. To turn it into a pile of timber 
would have given him satisfaction, but his injured pride made him turn away. He intercepted Caitlin 
on her way out the next morning. There were servants in the hallway and Arthur was waiting for her 
by the entrance when Julian stopped her by calling her name. She became quite still, but didn’t turn 
to face him. She flinched when Julian’s hands touched her shoulders.
     "You didn’t have to lock your door," he was whispering in her ear, not wanting the others to 
hear. "A simple no would have sufficed."
     He tried to turn her around but she resisted. He let go and walked around her instead. Her face 
was pale and puffy. Apparently, she had been crying and hadn’t got much sleep. It hurt to see her 
like that. 
     "Caitlin, we have to talk," he said imploringly.
     "I’m late for work," she answered without looking up, and moved past him.
     Julian’s eyes met Arthur’s and they nodded to each other. Arthur opened the door for Caitlin 
and they went out. She didn’t come back that evening. Julian called her at the office, but was told 
that she had left early. He tried to contact Arthur, but an operator’s impersonal voice said that the 
number was out of range. By the morning Julian concluded that Caitlin, Arthur and the car had 
vanished from the face of the Earth. 
     Well, they have vanished from San Francisco, Julian corrected himself. If I didn’t know 
better, I’d have thought that they’ve eloped. He was quite sure that Caitlin had disappeared by her 
own volition, and that Arthur was with her was reassuring. Nevertheless, Julian made himself sick 
with worry, refusing to feed for several days. 
     Arthur came back by the end of the week, bringing a letter from Caitlin. She was at her 
parents’ house, outside Seattle. Arthur had driven her there! Julian started by almost biting Arthur’s 
head off for not contacting him, but the young Ventrue stood his ground.
     "Caitlin specifically asked me to deliver the letter, and not contact you and tell you where she 
was before I did that," Arthur defended himself. 
     Julian took the letter and locked himself in the library with it. 
     Julian, my love, it started. 
     At least it doesn’t start with "Dear John", he thought wryly.
     My mother is worse, it continued, and I decided to come here and spend some time with her. 
Please, don’t be angry with me for not telling you, but I don’t want you to come here after me, and 
don’t be angry with Arthur. He did all he could to talk me out of it, but accepted my decision at last 
when I told him that he would have a letter for you on his return. Please, don’t try to contact me. 
I’ll not disappear from your life without having talked to you, but I want you to respect my need 
for privacy now.
     Julian sat for another night thinking about what he should do. Without having reached any 
decision, he dialed the Seattle number. Old Byrne answered. As soon as Julian said his name, 
Caitlin’s father cut him off.
     "She doesn’t want to talk to you," he said angrily.
     "I know," Julian answered, "but she wrote that Mrs. Byrne is worse and I’d like to inquire 
about her. Also, I would like you to tell me if Caitlin is all right."
     The old man was mollified by the sadness in Julian’s voice.
     "My wife is... dying. It’s a matter of days." The anger was gone from his voice. "As for 
Caitlin, she seems upset. Probably, you know better than I do why!"
     "I do," Julian sighed, but didn’t explain. "May I call you again?" he added. There was a short 
silence.
     "Yes, sure," Mr. Byrne said at last. 
     The next day Julian realized that he had gone too far. He could no longer stay outdoors during 
the daytime, the sun had become a definite threat. He allowed Daedalus to chase him out in the 
evening and spent the whole night hunting for prey. The blood restored his strength, but he still 
looked like a victim of a concentration camp. 

     Caitlin called two days later. She told him, between tears, that her mother had died during the 
night. Julian had all the right words prepared. But he didn’t dare to inquire when she would return. 
In the end he asked her to let him speak with her father. Even here, the proper phrases, offering 
consolation and sympathy, were easy to find. He asked about the funeral arrangements and was told 
that Mrs. Byrne would be buried next week. 
      The funeral was attended by more than a hundred people. The heavy rain had turned into 
intermittent dripping.
      "Earth to earth..." the priest was saying as Caitlin looked up and saw Julian. He stood beyond 
the whole congregation, almost hidden under a tree, looking directly at her. He nodded and lowered 
his head when he saw that she had discovered him. 
     There was some shuffling and the mass of mourners started to disperse. Many approached 
Caitlin and her father and offered their condolences. The rain stopped altogether and the sun came 
out. When Caitlin looked again, Julian was gone. She looked at the row of cars parked outside the 
cemetery. The one her eyes were searching for was the last in the line.
     "Father, will you excuse me for a moment," she said and walked towards the foreign car. She 
saw the driver step out and open the door for the passenger before she had come halfway. Julian 
got out. He glanced at the sun and moved into the shade under a tree. Caitlin steeled herself, 
although all she wanted to do was to run to him. She was shocked when she came close enough to 
see him clearly. Even the wide coat couldn’t hide the fact that he must have lost at least ten pounds, 
if not more. 
     "Julian!" she exclaimed. "What has happened to you?"
     She saw him exhale; he had been holding his breath.
     "I’ve been on a diet," he said and smiled. "No ice cream."
     But Caitlin wasn’t in the mood for jokes. One of her girlfriends in high school had died of 
anorexia. 
     "You’re ill," she said. "You must see a doctor."
     Julian sighed.
     "Caitlin, I’ve been busy and I’ve been depressed. You know that I don’t have much of an 
appetite, but I haven’t been starving myself deliberately," he explained patiently. Julian felt 
ridiculous. He had come to fight for her love, the last thing he had expected to do was to be forced 
to defend his sanity. But for the moment Caitlin had forgotten what had parted them. She took hold 
of his arm and started to drag him towards her father’s car.
     "Come with us to the house," she said, "there’s food."
     "That’s exactly what I need," he answered.
     If she heard the irony in his voice, she pretended that she didn’t, and Julian was just too happy 
to be with her to say anything more. He shook hands with the old astronomer and offered his 
sympathy again. He took Caitlin’s hand when they were seated in the car and was gratified by her 
reaction. She didn’t withdraw and her fingers closed over his. 
     There was indeed a lot of food in the house, but this was a situation Julian Luna was well 
trained to handle. He was an expert in mingling among scores of humans, pretending that he was 
eating. Whenever Caitlin saw him, there was a plate in his hand, and he seemed to be chewing on 
something. Two hours later he had, in reality, eaten a tomato, some candied fruit and a couple of 
cakes. He had drunk copious amounts of mineral water and some coffee. He even accepted a 
cigarette from somebody, but got rid of it discretely when the smoke made him cough. He declared 
to everybody who asked that he was Caitlin’s fiancé. He was congratulated and so was Caitlin. She 
gave him a dark look, but he smiled and gave her a what was I supposed to say gesture. But one 
young man took offense when he got the same answer to his:
     "And who might you be?"
     "Oh yeah!" the young man said aggressively, "and what makes you so sure?" His hand 
pushed at Julian’s shoulder. He might just as well have tried to move a brick wall. Julian’s amiable 
smile was gone instantly.
     "It might have something to do with the fact that Caitlin and I have lived together for almost a 
year."
     The man tried to shove Julian again, but this time his hand was taken and removed. He made a 
swing but his fist was gripped in midair and squeezed painfully.
     "You don’t want to lose your hand now, do you?" All the polish of civilization was gone from 
Julian’s voice, clashing incongruously with the upper class British accent. At the same moment 
Caitlin came to their side.
     "Joe, have you gone mad?" She was on the verge of hysteria. "I’ve just buried my mother!"
     The man she called Joe backed off.
     "I’m sorry Caitlin," he said, "but this scarecrow here, he says that you and he... that you 
two..." He was too upset to continue.
     Caitlin’s eyes turned to Julian. She looked him over and suddenly smiled.
     "You do look rather scrawny, Julian," she said. "You would make an excellent scarecrow out 
here." Her arms went around him and he hugged her automatically. But he was still staring 
defiantly at the younger man. Caitlin freed herself from Julian’s grasp, but took his arm and 
dragged him along.
     "No brawls, please!" she said.
     "I didn’t start it," Julian defended himself, looking back at his opponent. "Who is he 
anyway?"
     "A high school boyfriend." Caitlin didn’t look back. "An old friend."
     "Oh," was all Julian said.
     "If you two want to fight it out, I hope you’ll do it someplace else." She sounded scornful, and 
Julian tried to gather some of his dignity.
     "I’m not in the habit of getting into fist-fights over women." The British accent was there 
again.
     Yes, sure, you broke four ribs and almost strangled a man over Lillie just a month ago, he 
thought.
     However, Joe kept out of his way. The short encounter with Caitlin’s alleged fiancé told him 
that he would not get anywhere by sheer muscle.
     The house emptied in the early evening. Julian found Caitlin alone in the kitchen. She was 
putting away some things, and he watched her move around. At last she became aware of his 
presence and looked up.
     "Caitlin, do you want me to leave?" he asked. 
     "No," she answered, "I think it’s time we had that talk."
     He nodded but didn’t say anything, looking away.
     He’s ashamed, Caitlin thought. So Amy didn’t imagine everything.
     "Let’s go to the sitting room," she said. 
     He followed without a word. Caitlin sat down on the couch, patting the space beside. He sat 
down and took her hand, still not looking at her. 
     "Caitlin," he started at last, "that girl, in the club, whatever her name was..."
     "Amy, Anamaria." Caitlin was helpful.
     "I was sad, upset, I had been drinking." The last one was a lie; alcohol had no effect on 
Kindred physiology unless it was already diluted by blood. "She came after me," he continued, "she 
was a stranger. I didn’t know that she had followed me around. We... were together," his voice 
broke, "just a moment to forget how lonely I was." He looked at her, trying to read her expression. 
"Please, Caitlin, forgive me." 
     Her fingers hardened on his hand. 
     "Poor Amy," she said. "For you it was a moment to forget, for her, to remember. What has 
happened to her?" she asked the inevitable question.
     "I truly don’t know, I never saw her again." The experience of more than a hundred years 
made lying smooth and easy; it also made him feel sick.
     "According to her diary, she intended to contact you," Caitlin mused.
     "If she did, she didn’t succeed." Julian would get out of that one too. "You know how good I 
am at keeping myself out of reach."
     Caitlin knew that very well. 
     He raised her hand to his lips.
     "Will you forgive me?" he asked again. 
     She looked into his eyes for a very long moment.
     "If you ever..." There was a smirk on her face. "There is no better expression for it - if you 
ever fuck any of my associates again," he winced at her choice of words, "I’ll do the same to you." 
     The expression of shock on his face was quite satisfying, but she wasn’t finished.
     "But if you ever lie to me again, I’ll do something much worse."
     He stared at her aghast.
     "What do you mean?" he asked.
     She laughed.
     "Just remember my words." She took in his terrified expression. "I’ll think of something," 
she added. 
     He tried to kiss her, but she stopped him, a hand on his chest, her head shaking.
     "There is more."
     "More?" He sounded alarmed again. 
     Caitlin took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on his face.
     "Before she died, my mother asked me a very strange question. She wanted to know why I 
had hurt you so badly when we were here. I don’t know if she was delirious, the medication she 
was on was rather strong. But she was quite adamant about it; she talked about blood, lots of blood. 
I want to know what happened?"
     Julian’s mind changed to the highest gear. 
     Don’t start lying again, tell her the truth, the whole truth! it screamed at him. But he couldn’t 
bring himself to disclose the Masquerade. He glanced at her for a short moment and looked away.
     "You did hurt me," he said at last. "Rather badly."
     "How?!"
     "You bit me." His voice was barely a whisper.
     "Where?!"
     He turned away, but she saw his face darken in embarrassment. Caitlin stared at him for a 
moment and then blushed even harder than he did when the realization dawned on her.
     "Oh, Julian," she whimpered, "why can’t I remember?"
     "I don’t think you were aware of what you were doing," he said taking her into his arms, "and 
I survived." He tried to joke it away, but to his dismay, she started to cry. 
     "Why do I keep doing this?" she sobbed. "I know that I have done it before. Why?"
     He waited until she had calmed a little.
     "Caitlin, whatever you do, I want you to know that you can never harm me permanently. 
Whatever you do, it’s all right." 
     Tell her! his mind insisted.
     "Caitlin," he shook her a little, demanding her attention, "the pain that you are able to inflict... it 
gives me pleasure, no matter how bad it is. I think that you do it because deep inside you, you know 
how much I enjoy it."
     She looked at him fearfully.
     "But I don’t want to harm you," she sighed.
     "You can’t harm me Caitlin, at least not physically. Not without a weapon." He made her sit in 
his lap. "The only danger, is that I might harm you if I respond too eagerly." He hugged her again. 
"Just remember, you can always stop me."
     "A simple no will suffice," she used his own line.
     "Yes, a simple no will suffice," he repeated. 
     James Byrne was annoyed. When Caitlin had come home, he understood immediately that her 
relationship with Julian Luna was in trouble. Not that he minded. He didn’t like that cocky type 
anyway. But when Julian turned up, looking like he had been on the world’s best diet, he couldn’t 
help feeling sorry for the young fellow. It was almost midnight and, true to his old habits, Mr. 
Byrne peeked into the guestroom. It was empty. He went up to Caitlin’s room prepared to make a 
scene, but Caitlin’s room was equally empty. At last he found them in the sitting room. Caitlin was 
stretched out on the couch, her head on Julian knee, who was just sitting there, one hand on 
Caitlin’s shoulder, the other cradling her head. They were both fully dressed, but the old man didn’t 
like what he saw. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something, Julian raised his hand 
and put a finger to his lips in a telling gesture.
     "Shhhh," he whispered, "she’s finally asleep." His hand moved back to Caitlin’s shoulder. 
"She was so sad," he added. 
     "Then maybe we should put her to bed," the old man suggested. 
     Julian nodded and rose from the couch after putting his arms under Caitlin’s back and knees. 
     "If you would be so kind and open the doors for me," he said. 
     Caitlin’s father led the way. Julian placed Caitlin carefully on her bed and spread a blanket 
over her. Carrying Caitlin through the house and up the stairs didn’t even quicken his breath.
     "Not bad for a scarecrow," the old man commented.
     "This is the third time I’ve been called that today," Julian said with exasperation. "Do I really 
look that bad?"
     "Well, I’ve seen you in better shape," Caitlin’s father answered. "Have you two come to 
terms?"
     "Yes, we have reconciled our differences." He smiled at the old man. As they walked down the 
stairs, Caitlin’s father suggested a snack, but Julian declined with horror.
     "I’ve eaten too much already," he explained. "I think I’ll try to get some sleep too." He turned 
towards the guestroom.
     "Julian." It was the first time that Caitlin’s father had called him by his given name and he 
turned back in surprise. "My wife, she really liked you, I’m glad you came to the funeral."
     "Thank you." Julian didn’t know what else to say. The old man looked at him for a long 
moment.
     "Oh, hell," he said at last, "go back to her." He smiled watching Julian bolt up the stairs. When 
he brought breakfast to Caitlin’s room in the morning, they were both fast asleep in each others 
arms, and both still dressed: Julian had only taken off his jacket and shoes.
     Julian woke up first, and made off with part of the breakfast that Caitlin’s father had provided. 
He drank the orange juice, but destroyed the solid food in the bathroom. Let Caitlin believe that he 
ate it. He called his car, and a suitcase with fresh clothes was brought to the house twenty minutes 
later. When Caitlin came down, her hair still wet from the shower, munching on the last piece of 
toast that he had left for her, he was again the impeccable Julian Luna, sharing a morning paper and 
a cup of tea with her father.
     "Good morning, Caitlin," both men said simultaneously, and she shook her finger at them in 
mock desperation. She had woken in the middle of the night, and finding Julian in her bed had 
alarmed her.
      "Julian, what are you doing here?" she had whispered urgently. "My father..."
     But he had hushed her.
     "Your father told me to... take care of you."
     He had stayed with her all night, just holding her. It wasn’t a problem, he had gorged himself 
the previous night before leaving San Francisco, not knowing when the next opportunity to feed 
would arise. 
     No worse than a blood-filled mosquito, he had thought, his dry sense of humor 
counterbalancing his darker side. His strength and his health were restored, but it would take a little 
longer to rebuild his posture, and to regain the subcutaneous fat, necessary to bring back his normal 
appearance. He had looked at himself in the bathroom mirror this very morning. Every muscle 
strand was visible under the thin layer of skin, bones protruding, a rather unpleasant sight. A 
scarecrow indeed! He would have to remedy that as soon as possible, or Caitlin’s accusations of 
anorexia might become a permanent nuisance.
     "How long can you stay?" Caitlin asked, breaking into his reverie. 
     "I must be back in San Francisco tonight," Julian answered. "Will you come with me or are 
you going to stay here longer?"
     Caitlin looked at her father.
     "I’d like to stay just a few more days, if it’s okay?" She looked from one man to the other, 
and they both nodded. Julian smiled at her reassuringly.
     "Just call, and I will send the plane for you," he said. "Arthur was rather exhausted after that 
long drive."
     "Julian!" Caitlin retorted, "I’m quite capable of traveling on my own." 
     "I know." He gave her a special smile. "But if you order the plane, I might come with it. 
Special delivery." 
     Caitlin laughed to cover her embarrassment. 
     Julian had to leave before lunchtime, and they decided to take a walk in the woods before then. 
They didn’t go far, spending most of the time talking nonsense and kissing. The ground was still 
wet after yesterday’s rain, squishing under their feet with every step. They stood on a tiny hill, the 
driest place they could find, Julian’s back against the trunk of an old pine. They kissed 
passionately, but when he reached for more, he felt her body resist. He had hurt her feelings and 
she was not yet ready to forgive. He accepted that, knowing that her resentment would pass. But he 
wouldn’t hide his desire from her the way he had done in the past. His grip around her hardened, 
and he pressed her close, chaffing against her belly. She backed away from him, and he let her, 
grunting with disappointment. But her hand touched him in the next moment, her fingers closing on 
him quite hard, rubbing him through the fabric of his pants.
     Julian winced.
     "Caitlin," he whispered, "don’t start something you don’t intend to finish."
     "Shut up," she murmured, and he did.
      She kneeled in front of him, and opened his pants, tugging at them, just enough to expose 
him. Her hands touched him lightly, moving very slowly. He bit his lip, trying to keep quiet and 
looked down at her. She was examining him intently. In spite of the chilly air, he was hotter than 
ever. 
     "Caitlin," his voice was uneven, "I’m quite all right. There are no... scars." Of course, there 
weren’t. Had Julian been human, he probably would have been maimed by what Caitlin had done. 
His Kindred physiology had healed the injury without a trace. "I’m all right," Julian repeated.
     "Umm..., I can see that!" The tone of her voice gave her words a double meaning.
     He was very still, looking at her when her lips encircled him, and he threw back his head with a 
loud groan. For all his strength, his legs refused to support him, and he slid along the tree until he 
was sitting on the ground. She let go of him, and the sudden onslaught of cold made him shiver. 
She stood looking at his disheveled apparition. He always looked younger and vulnerable when his 
clothes were awry and his hair tousled. His eyes widened as he saw her take off her jeans. She kept 
her sweater on, it covered her halfway down her thighs. But when she came down on him, he 
realized that she was naked underneath, and he ceased to feel the cold. He leaned away from the 
tree, lying down on the ground, quite oblivious of the wetness that soaked through his clothes. 
Caitlin moved with deliberate slowness at first, relishing in the pleasure she was giving, but soon 
their movements became more urgent and more in unison. He didn’t even try to hold back, his body 
shuddering with the violent release, long seconds passing before he remembered to breathe again. 
Caitlin watched his face relax. He opened his eyes, and blinked several times before smiling at her.
     "Caitlin," he sighed as his hands took hold of her, dragging her down until he could kiss her. 
The kiss became more urgent as his hands slid under her sweater and rubbed her breasts. He 
pushed her bra out of the way, and her nipples responded to his touch. She felt him become hard inside
her again as he restarted his movements. 
     Suddenly a shot rang out with a deafening bang, and Caitlin screamed.
     The series of mistakes that Joe Montegna had amassed was unending. 
     However, at the moment he was impressed. He had aimed at the raised leg, just three inches 
above the knee. The bullet hit exactly the spot he had intended it to. To his surprise, the only scream 
he heard was Caitlin’s. The man whose leg had been straightened by the shot didn’t utter a sound. 
He had reacted instantly, grabbing hold of Caitlin, and rolling over, shoving the woman’s body 
underneath his. But Joe picked up his rifle and ran away laughing to himself. 
     That should teach that big city dude, with his silk suits, foreign cars and his slicked hair, to 
come here and steal women! Joe was quite satisfied with himself.
     He had watched the old Byrne’s house in the evening and knew that that jerk with the phony 
British accent had stayed the night. He had to come out sooner or later!
 
     When they came out in the morning, Joe was waiting. He followed their slow progress. An 
experienced hunter like Joe was able to move through the underbrush almost soundlessly. He saw 
them stop under the old pine. What he saw next appalled him. Caitlin, on her knees, doing that... 
unspeakable thing! Joe had raised his rifle, the cross hairs unmoving on the man’s neck, just below 
the ear. But no, Joe didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison, he moved his aim to the 
shoulder. In the same moment, the intended victim had sat down on the ground and Caitlin had 
started taking off her clothes; Joe was no longer sure of his hands. By the time the weapon was 
steadied again, all Joe could see was Caitlin’s heaving body, her sweater still on. 
     "Damn!" Joe swore under his breath. He started to creep closer. 
     They wouldn’t notice a charging bear now, he decided. He heard the man cry out, and was 
sorry that he didn’t get there before that. He saw Caitlin’s body disappear and the man’s knee 
come up instead.
     Perfect, Joe smiled to himself. He fired in the next moment and heard Caitlin scream. Joe rose 
just in time to see the injured leg fall down, the blood spurting out, and the man’s desperate reaction 
aimed at protecting the woman. 
     There, Joe thought while he ran, that should show you! But he couldn’t help being impressed 
by the injured man’s heroic effort to shield Caitlin with his own life. Joe Montegna appreciated 
courage when he saw it.
     None of this would have happened had Julian just given in to Joe a little bit the previous 
evening. A punch would have been even better, and Joe would have been satisfied with that, leaving 
Julian and Caitlin alone. But his inability to make any impact whatsoever on her lover made Joe 
mad. He had not set out to kill anybody, he just wanted to make a point. That’s why he didn’t shoot 
Julian Luna in the head. Not that it would have killed the Kindred, but the damage would have been 
much more severe. 
     Joe stopped running in a ravine. He was safe here. There would be a police investigation, he 
was sure about that. He would say that he saw something in the grass when he was out hunting and 
shot it. No deadly injury, the damage wasn’t even serious. Some blood lost and a lot of pain. A 
misdemeanor, end of the story. Worth a few months in prison in any case. An accident, if he were 
lucky.
     Suddenly, Joe saw something out of the corner of his eye and turned abruptly. A big, gray 
wolf was standing just thirty feet away, looking at him with big yellow eyes. 
     "What the hell!" Joe raised his rifle, but the wolf was gone when he looked through the sight. 
He turned, and there it was again, only much closer. Joe Montegna saw the injured hind leg as it 
sprang, and he saw the wolf’s eyes flash in a strange green color...

     Julian had quieted Caitlin’s scream by putting a hand over her mouth. In the silence that 
ensued he could hear the attacker running away. He waited another minute, sharpening his senses to 
the utmost. 
     Nothing. They were alone again.
     Julian let go of Caitlin and looked at his injured leg. It was the cleanest shot he had ever seen. 
The gunman must have been quite close. The high velocity of the bullet had propelled it through his 
leg as if it were a piece of paper. The exit wound on the inside of Julian’s thigh wasn’t any bigger 
than the entrance hole on the outside. The bleeding had already stopped, it would heal in less than 
two hours. Julian was thinking fast. He had to disappear within the next hour or his healing ability 
would become a nationwide event. 
     "Caitlin, go to the house and call this number." He made her memorize the number to his car. 
"Tell them what has happened." 
     "But... the police." She was bewildered. "A doctor..."
     "Caitlin!" Julian was exasperated. "Forget the police, do you want your friend to go to jail?"
     "How can you know that it was him?" she asked.
     "I don’t!" He couldn’t tell her that he had recognized the smell. "But who else might it be?"
     She started to cry.
     "Caitlin, please! You can do the crying later. Now, get help!"
     She got up and started towards the house, but he called her back.
     "Put on your jeans," he said smiling. "One scandal at a time is enough."
     She laughed nervously, and went after he had assured her that he would be all right. As soon 
as she disappeared, he got up without much effort.
     Seconds later, a big gray wolf was following the scent of the running man.
     When Caitlin came back to the big pine, Julian Luna was sitting in its shade. He had got his 
pants in order but his shirt was off and made into a tourniquet. He let his guards carry him, not 
wanting Caitlin to see that he was perfectly able to walk, the wound hardly troubling him. Within an 
hour, Julian was on his plane, bound for San Francisco. Caitlin wanted to go with him, but he had 
made her stay with her father a little longer. 
     "I have a hole in my leg, that’s true," he had answered her protests, "but your father has just 
lost his wife."
     Caitlin returned to San Francisco a week later.
     There was no investigation concerning the shooting of Julian Luna; however, there was one 
concerning the disappearance of Joe Montegna. His horribly mutilated body was found in a ravine 
a few days after Caitlin had left, and it was concluded that a wild animal had killed him. The police 
didn’t know about the shooting: old Byrne never told anybody what he knew about it, and Caitlin 
never made the connection between the bullet that had pierced Julian’s leg and the death of her high 
school beau.
     However, she was confounded when she noticed some weeks later that the bullet had not left 
any scars on Julian’s thigh.
     Caitlin felt rather stupid when she went to the AA meeting. She had read an ad about it in her 
own paper and decided to go there at the last minute. AA had nothing to do with alcoholics, it stood 
for "Anonymous Abductees". She sat in the back, deciding that she would keep an open mind, but 
after an hour of listening concluded that her mind wasn’t open enough to let her brains fall out. She 
was on her way out when somebody called her name.
     That voice! She would recognize it in her sleep!
     "Biggy!" she exclaimed turning around. 
     He locked her in a bear hug, lifting her up in the air.
     "Caitlin Byrne!" he bellowed in her ear, "don’t tell me that you have been abducted by aliens! 
It is Byrne still or has somebody stolen you?" He put her down laughing.
     "No and yes and yes," she laughed back.
     "What do you mean - no and yes and yes?" he looked at her sternly.
     "No, I have not been abducted by aliens, and yes, it’s still Byrne, and yes, somebody has 
stolen me," she answered, still laughing.
     "Ah!" his laugh was back, "the enigmatic Julian Luna. I’m not totally out of touch with the 
world in my little radio station. But what are you doing here?"
     "I was looking for a story," Caitlin lied. "I could ask you the same."
     "And you would get the same answer." He put an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let’s 
get a drink and we can compare notes."
     Caitlin followed him happily to a bar nearby.
     Biggy’s real name was Samuel Heims, but nobody called him anything but Biggy. The 
nickname had already been stuck ten years ago when Caitlin had been his student. His programs on 
the radio were named An Hour with Biggy, or Talk to Biggy, or something similar. His mesmerizing 
voice could charm a snake out of its skin, and he was extremely popular among the night owls of 
San Francisco. If Biggy intended to talk about aliens on the radio, people would listen. 
     Caitlin accepted the whiskey he ordered for her.
     "Okay," she said, "I was just fishing for something for the Sunday supplement. But what were 
you after?"
     "I got an empty hour in the dead of night, between three and four a.m. I was thinking about 
making it really spooky. You know, the paranormal stuff: ghosts, aliens, clairvoyance and the like. 
I’d just love to make chopped liver out of it!" He started laughing again. "But tell me about 
yourself. Or better yet, tell me about Julian Luna, now that we’re talking about aliens."
     "Wh... What do you mean?" Caitlin was taken aback. 
     "Aw... Caitlin," Biggy winced, "I didn’t mean it to sound like that, but I have run into him a 
couple of times. You know that I don’t scare easily, but that guy gives me the creeps!" 
     With his six feet and five inches in either direction, Biggy wasn’t easy to scare. Caitlin’s 
laugh became nervous.
     "There is nothing scary about Julian," she said at last.
     "Maybe not to you," Biggy said, "but I asked him something he didn’t like, and he looked 
right through me. I mean literally. Like he was measuring the size of my spine. And then he told me 
off. He flawlessly deduced what I was after, and I wasn’t all that clear about it myself. I tell you 
Caitlin, if anyone could get away with that mind-reading stuff, it would be your boyfriend, Luna."
     Caitlin couldn’t help but smile.
     "Yes, he’s rather good at that, isn’t he?" Her voice had turned soft and tender, and the big man 
peered at her closely.
     "And you’re head over heels, absolutely and deadly in love with him," Biggy sounded slightly 
offended. "He must be something special in bed, it can’t be his looks!"
     "Biggy!!!" Caitlin almost shouted, and he winked at her. She started laughing again. To 
pretend to be scandalized by his comments was a lost cause.
     "Caitlin," he took her hand, "little kitten Caitlin, it’s me, remember, it’s Biggy. You can trust 
me more than any girlfriend you ever had." 
     That’s true! Caitlin thought and remembered Amy. But aloud she said only:
     "I love Julian very much, and there is nothing wrong with his looks." She defended Julian 
hotly.
     Biggy made a funny face, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out:
     "And he’s the best lover you can imagine!" She blushed hearing her own words.
     "I can’t," he said, shaking his head in mock sadness, "but I’m glad that you think so." Seeing 
her discomfiture, he changed the subject. "I read about your kidnapping," he said. "When I saw you 
at that meeting, I thought it had something to do with that."
     "No, no," Caitlin shivered, "I was taken by a man as far as I know." There were tears in her 
eyes. "Oh, Biggy! He raped me!" She realized that this was the first time she had told anybody 
about her rape beside Julian, and started crying in earnest. Biggy put a comforting arm around her 
back.
     "Caitlin, my little kitten." Biggy’s famous voice could be more soothing than any medicine.  
"Caitlin, I’m so sorry!" He waited a long moment before asking, "Does Julian know?"
     She nodded. 
     "If it weren’t for Julian, I think that I would have gone mad. He was wonderful!" She was 
trying to stop crying, realizing that most of her makeup had ended up in her whiskey glass. Biggy 
ordered another round. 
     "I’m beginning to like the guy," he commented.
     Caitlin took another sip and looked up at her friend.
     "Biggy," her voice was still a little shaky, "all that paranormal bull, is there anything to it?"
     "Which bull exactly are you referring to?" he asked.
     She looked away for a moment before returning her gaze to the big man, suddenly aware that 
she had picked up the habit from Julian.
     "Healing," she said at last. "Do you know anything about it?"
     He looked at her suspiciously.
     "Who has healed whom?" There was a teasing tone in his voice, but Caitlin would not be 
swayed.
     "Julian," she answered.
     "Tell me about it!" The teasing was gone momentarily.
     Caitlin told Biggy everything. She had destroyed the list of Julian’s strange traits that she had 
made some months ago, but her memory brought it up in an instant. She didn’t omit anything, 
telling him even the most intimate details. Biggy listened to her without interrupting, she had the 
satisfaction of seeing him turn red with embarrassment when she talked about the love-making, and 
what Julian could do afterwards. She told him about the biting and the lack of scars. When she had 
finished, she realized that confiding in Biggy was the best thing that she could have done. She was 
not mad. Everything had happened. 
     Biggy didn’t ask if she was pulling his leg. Instead he sat thinking for a long time before 
saying:
     "He does sound a little strange." 
     "A little!" Caitlin exclaimed.
     "Well," he mused, "there is no Sunday supplement, is there?" When she nodded, he 
continued. "That abductee meeting, you went there out of sheer desperation." She nodded again, 
and he smiled. "He loves you, and that alone makes him human!"
     "I’m not saying that he isn’t human," Caitlin said. "I don’t know what he is!" she whimpered.
     "Okay." Biggy accepted the challenge. "Let’s look at it scientifically. What was first on your 
list? Health?"
     Caitlin nodded, and Biggy lifted his hand, ticking off on his fingers as he talked.
     "I haven’t been sick since high school, so I’m not impressed. High body temperature, it’s not 
as unusual as you think: it has something to do with how that thermostat in your brain is tuned. I 
don’t know much about it. I do know however, that heat renders men sterile. So that one checks." 
     Biggy lowered next finger.
     "Sight and hearing, that’s individual. It’s not like he can see through walls or read something 
he can’t see?" he asked, and Caitlin shook her head.
     "As I said, it’s individual. Some people have better senses than the majority. You know, 
perfume experts, wine tasters. The human eye is very sensitive, it can discern the smallest unit of 
light, a photon. I think, it’s just a question of being aware of what you see. It could be the same with 
the hearing. The range of human hearing is limited, but the standards aren’t rigid. Just think about 
those who have perfect pitch. It’s a miracle that we, mere mortals, are unable to fathom."
      Caitlin nodded. Biggy was making sense. Another finger went down.
     "The strength," he laughed, "all men were not created equal. With proper training and some 
drugs, the differences can be made spectacular. I don’t know if I could break a big steel padlock, 
but I would not back off at the mere sight of it. Strength is a male thing, Caitlin. We are stronger 
than women; evolution has made physical strength one of the main attributes in our competition for 
women. We nurse it tenderly, although we no longer need it. A show of power will impress you 
whether you like it or not. It’s in your genes, just as showing off is in ours. If a man is stronger 
than others are, he’ll have more women, even in our civilized society. If memory serves me right, 
Mr. Luna used to have quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, no offense. How strong is he?"
     "I don’t really know," Caitlin said.
     "But you haven’t seen him do anything superhuman, have you?"
     "Nnno," Caitlin was leafing through her memories, "not really. They... just back off."
     "Well," Biggy shook his head, "with what you have told me, I’d probably back off too. 
Besides, he is half my age, and probably has half my reaction time too."
     The last remark made Caitlin laugh. Biggy opened his hand and started anew.
     "Now, the food. You are probably right, he eats when nobody can see him. What he eats, 
that’s another matter. Maybe he eats baby formula, or something equally detestable. It must be 
something really rich, if he lost so much weight within a couple of weeks of abstaining. Did he 
regain it?"
     "Yes," Caitlin answered, "he was back to his normal weight within a month."
     "Whatever it is, he wants to keep it a secret." Biggy’s fingers lifted Caitlin’s chin. "I think you 
should let him. You said that he abhors meat, so whatever he stuffs himself with can’t be that bad. 
Let it be."
     Caitlin nodded agreement.
     "It isn’t really important, is it?" she wondered aloud.
     "No, probably not." Biggy took hold of his middle finger. "Now, we come to the tricky parts, 
sex."
     Caitlin looked away again.
     "I still can’t believe that I blabbed," she said blushing.
     "Well, I’m glad you did," Biggy’s voice was serious, "and it’s not just because I enjoyed 
hearing it. At the risk of repeating myself, I say it again; men were not created equal. My wife left 
me seven years ago, and my memory, although good, is rather short. But even in the beginning of 
my sexual career, and I considered myself quite an athlete, as all men do, I was able to have sex 
three or four times in a row within a given amount of time, say three to five hours. After that, I’d be 
dead." 
     Caitlin just looked at him, shrugging helplessly.
     "Oh, I’ve heard all those tall stories that circulate in locker rooms," Biggy went on, "but they 
are just that, stories. So, what you describe is rather out of the ordinary. On the other hand, if I had 
a lady like you Caitlin, I wouldn’t mind killing myself by making love to her."
     Caitlin blushed even more.
     "It’s not like he’s killing himself," she said. "I’m the one who drops dead."
     "Good for you!" Biggy’s face was one big happy smile. "But think now, Caitlin. Our 
perception of time can change dramatically, especially when emotions are involved. Did you take 
time? Did you count?"
     Caitlin hid her face in her hands, and Biggy leaned back triumphantly.
     "There, you see," he said, and Caitlin answered:
     "I did."
     "Oh," the triumphant smirk faded, "well?"
     Caitlin chose one particular night.
     "From eleven in the evening till four in the morning," she was whispering behind her hands, 
"seven," she added. 
     "Seven what?" Biggy was relentless. "You or him?"
     "Julian," her whisper was hardly audible. "I lost count of mine." 
     "Oh." Biggy was staring. "Are you sure?"
     Caitlin didn’t like having her credibility questioned.
     "Of course I’m sure, I can count!" She stared back at him belligerently. "And don’t say that I 
could be mistaken. Julian’s... well, it’s rather difficult to miss." She calmed down. "Then I dropped 
dead. Julian was quite prepared to go on."
     Biggy whistled.
     "Must have been quite a mess," he said, and they both laughed. "And he’s like that all the 
time," he prodded on, "not a freak accident?"
     "Uhm," Caitlin nodded, "I wouldn’t make an issue of it otherwise. I don’t have your 
experience, but even I realize that it’s rather out of the ordinary."
     "You can bet your pretty little ass, it is," Biggy was really impressed. "But then you already 
have."
     "Don’t be vulgar, Biggy!" Caitlin was beyond being embarrassed. "I expect help from you, 
not dirty comments."
     "I’m sorry," he backed off, "but you can’t blame a guy for being envious in this case. Frankly, 
I don’t know what to say. If anyone but you told me this, I would take it with many grains of salt, 
but I believe you. It sounds like the wishful thinking of every male on this planet. If anything, it 
makes him more human rather than less. Still," he pondered for a moment, "weird as it sounds, 
maybe there are sexual athletes in real life, and he is one of them. I really don’t know."
     "Okay," Caitlin went on, "what about the biting, the violence?"
     "Now we’re on more familiar ground," Biggy perked up, making Caitlin wince. "Don’t look 
at me like that," he added, "I just happen to know more than you do. Age’s privilege. Caitlin, my 
kitten, the ways people enjoy themselves are manifold. It’s all right, even if it hurts a little 
sometimes. Take it from an old teacher, as long as you two love each other, you won’t do each other 
any harm."
     But Caitlin wasn’t entirely convinced. She told him about what she knew had transpired in her 
father’s house. 
     "I really hurt him there, he admitted that." She was on the verge of crying again, her fifth 
whiskey in hand. "And I don’t even remember!"
     "Ouch!" Biggy was shaken. "It couldn’t have been as bad as you think. Otherwise, he 
wouldn’t have let you touch him again. I know, I wouldn’t!"
     Caitlin let her tears fall. 
     "My mother said there was so much blood. She was really shaken. And Julian said that he had 
enjoyed it. Oh, my God!" The rest of Caitlin’s makeup dissolved in her tears.
     "He sounds a little kinky to me," Biggy said lamely, he felt a little sick. Whether it was the 
whiskey or Caitlin’s confession, he couldn’t tell.
     "And why can’t I remember?" Caitlin was angry with herself, and Biggy patted her on the 
back. 
     "You don’t want to remember." He felt more secure again. "You did something your mind 
didn’t like, so it pretends that you didn’t do it at all. Ask any shrink."
     Caitlin breathed in sharply.
     "Okay," she said, "what’s left?"
     "The healing capabilities," Biggy helped.
     "So, how can you explain that?" She challenged him. 
     "I can’t," the alcohol had made Biggy flippant, "but I sure as hell would like to have some of 
that."
     "You’re some help!" Caitlin wasn’t in any better condition.
     "No, I guess, I’m not." He looked at her sideways. "But you know what, I’d like to meet Mr. 
Luna. Can you arrange that?"
     "Sure, piece of cake." Caitlin was drunk, and nothing was beyond her capability. "I’ll make 
him take us to dinner tomorrow. That French restaurant that we couldn’t afford unless you paid, 
remember?"
     "Of course I remember." There was nothing wrong with Biggy’s memory. "It’s still there, 
more expensive than ever. What makes you think that he will want to come?"
     "Don’t you worry about that," Caitlin said with a sly smile. "I have my tricks. He will come, 
he will pay, and he will watch us eat. Don’t you worry," she repeated, and took out the phone from 
her bag. She had turned it off when they came into the bar. Now it took her three attempts before 
Arthur answered. 
     "Caitlin," she heard the relief in his voice, "Mr. Luna was very worried when you didn’t come 
to the opera..."
     "Oh, shit!" Caitlin shouted. "I forgot! What time is it?" 
     "It’s ten past eleven," Arthur answered.
     "Oh, shit," Caitlin repeated much more quietly. The Nabucco had started at nine.
     "Trouble?" Biggy peered at her worriedly, but she shook her head and returned her attention 
to the phone.
     "Arthur, please come and get me." She looked at Biggy inquiringly. "Where are we?"
     He gave her the address and name of the bar and she repeated them into the phone.
     "I’ll be there in fifteen minutes," Arthur said and the connection was broken.
     Caitlin’s attention returned to Biggy.
     "Julian will wring my neck," she said giggling, apparently not very worried. "Will eight 
tomorrow be okay?"
     "Yes, sure. Can you pick me up at my station?" Biggy was doubtful. "What makes you so 
sure that he will want to come?"
     But Caitlin laughed.
     "Oh, he’ll come. Wild horses couldn’t keep him away." She drank the rest of her whiskey 
and got up unsteadily. "See you tomorrow then," she said and kissed his cheek. 
     He got up too saying:
     "Let me help you." He was in much better condition than Caitlin, but she stopped him.
     "No, no. Arthur mustn’t see you, it’s part of the plan!"
     She managed to get out of the bar on her own, and Biggy saw a tall, blond man help her into a 
big car. The car speeded away soundlessly.

     Julian smelled the whiskey the moment Arthur opened the door of the car. He looked at the 
guard inquiringly, but Arthur shrugged and nodded towards the back seat. Caitlin had curled up 
there, her body occupying the whole width of the car. Julian hesitated for a moment before getting 
in, lifting her head and shoulders on his lap. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming. He shook her 
a little and called her name. Her eyes fluttered open.
     "What happened?" he asked, his voice sharp.
     "Julian," she mumbled, "don’t be mad. I’m drunk."
     "I’ve noticed." He couldn’t help smiling, relieved as he was that there was nothing else wrong 
with her. "You’ve missed the Nabucco," he added. 
     "I know, I’m sorry." She made an effort to sit up, and he helped her. "I met an old friend, 
haven’t seen him in five years. We went to a bar... talked... got very drunk. I forgot the opera." She 
snuggled close, hiding her face against his chest. "Please, forgive me. My best friend from 
college..." She felt his arms harden around her and she giggled.
     "Invited him to dinner tomorrow." Her arms sneaked up, closing around his neck, and she 
used her grip to move up. His arms supported her and she was able to sit in his lap. Her lips 
touched his skin just beneath his ear, and she felt a shiver move through his body.
     "La Belle Époque," she was saying, "at eight." Her lips moved across his cheek, and he turned 
his head a little, catching her mouth with his. The taste of whiskey made him wince, but the softness 
of her tongue and lips was enticing. She broke the kiss and tried to move again, and again he 
supported her, trying to guess what she was aiming to do. She straddled him, her knees pressing his 
thighs, her body leaning against him. He felt himself respond to her closeness.
     Why do I have to be so addicted to this woman? he thought. 
     "Caitlin..." he started, but she kissed him again. By the time she broke the kiss, he had 
forgotten what it was he had been trying to say. She smiled sweetly. 
     "You can come too, if you want to," she was still smiling, and her eyes were glittering, "meet 
one of my best and oldest friends." 
     Julian hardened his grip around her again.
     "You said eight, didn’t you?" His voice betrayed nothing.
     "Umm," her lips touched his, very lightly, "La Belle..." she whispered, and they kissed 
passionately again. 
     The car stopped outside the mansion and Arthur had to help Caitlin to disengage herself from 
the car. He led her towards the main house and Julian helped her up the few steps. But once they 
were inside, she stopped irresolutely in front of the stairs leading up to her bedroom. Julian 
couldn’t help laughing.
     "Gentlemen," he said, the British accent exaggerated far beyond the natural, "the party is over, 
here start the stairs."
     He had to carry her up; she was unable to walk, even with his support. He held her head while 
she was sick and kept her from falling in the shower. When he finally put her in her bed, she was 
totally loose-limbed. He held her in his arms until she fell asleep.
     "Don’t worry, Caitlin," his eyes shimmered green for a short moment, "I’ll meet your friend. 
You deserve the hangover, but..." his hand touched her head tenderly.
     She hadn’t fooled him for one second.
     In spite of Julian’s intervention, Caitlin didn’t feel all too well the next morning. She had no 
headache, but she was dehydrated and her mouth tasted foul. She decided to take the day off and 
stayed in bed all morning, drawing the covers over her head. She tried to remember her conversation 
with Biggy, and the more it came back to her, the more ashamed she felt. 
     I can’t sit those two at the same table, she thought desperately, but she knew with absolute 
certainty that Julian would come to the restaurant. There was nothing she could do about it, short of 
calling the whole thing off. She was sick again when she tried to get up and barely made it to the 
bathroom. 
     Julian came at noon, bringing her a glass of water and a couple of pills. 
     "Aspirin," he answered her unvoiced question. "Arthur told me that you didn’t go to work 
today."
     "Arthur is a gossip!" Caitlin commented.
     She managed to swallow the pills with the aid of a lot of water, and fell back on the pillow.
     "Can’t you do anything about a hangover?" she said to Julian accusingly.
     "I thought I did," he answered, a ghost of a smile on his face. He sat down beside her, his 
hand touching her face lightly. "It will pass," he added.
     Caitlin woke up in the afternoon, in much better shape. She took a long, hot bath and spent 
several minutes in front of the mirror trying to repair the damage the alcohol had caused.
     It’s amazing what can be done with a little powder and rouge, she thought.
     She had Arthur drive her to La Belle Époque at half past seven, waited until the car 
disappeared before calling a taxi and went to Biggy’s radio station. Biggy’s disappointment was 
apparent when he saw that she was alone, but she hugged him and said:
     "Don’t worry, he’ll come," and then added maliciously, "you can bet your ass on that!" They 
returned to the restaurant in the same taxi.
     Julian’s timing was perfect. He arrived just as they were pouring over the several pages long 
list of deserts. Biggy saw Caitlin’s face light up and turned around in his chair as Julian Luna 
approached their table. Caitlin made the introductions finishing with:
     "Biggy taught me everything I know about journalism. He has always been my fairy 
godmother."
     But Julian realized the moment he saw the old man that he wasn’t being introduced to a rival, 
but someone much more dangerous, an investigator. He remembered the stories whispered among 
the Kindred, accounts of the Inquisition and witch-hunts, and a bolt of fear cracked his flawless 
appearance. Only Caitlin and Biggy interpreted his awkward reaction as nervousness, and they both 
smiled reassuringly.
     "They have this coffee flavored ice cream," Caitlin was saying, "you’ll love it!"
     Julian accepted her proposition and ordered wine. He decided that attack was the best defense.
     "We have met before, haven’t we, Mr. Heims?" he asked, his cool voice implying that the 
meeting hadn’t been a success. But Biggy made a disarming gesture.
     "The circumstances, as well as the company, were much less pleasant than tonight," he said, 
"and you put me in my place so beautifully, that I still teach it to my students." Biggy smiled 
showing all his teeth. "If all interview victims were as sharp as you are, Mr. Luna, why, all us poor 
reporters would be out of business." 
     Julian didn’t smile back, but Caitlin laughed out loud.
     "Biggy!" It took her some time before she could continue, "flattery won’t get you anywhere!" 
Somehow, her comment cleared the air, and Julian relaxed a little. But Biggy was single-minded.
     "We were talking about power," he said, "but Caitlin, being of the weaker sex, can’t grasp the 
true meaning of the concept."
     "What kind of power did you have in mind?" Julian asked.
     "There, you see," Biggy turned to Caitlin, "this is a man talking." He turned back to Julian. 
"The original kind, you know, muscle." He made a fist and flexed his arm. "I was trying to make 
Caitlin understand that strength is something that men understand and women admire, wouldn’t 
you agree?"
     But Julian’s eyes didn’t waver from Biggy’s face, nor did he say anything, waiting for him to 
continue.
     "Caitlin told me what happened to her," Biggy went on after a few seconds, "and I’ve been 
trying to explain to her that rape is an act of aggression. Barring the sick perverts, if a man commits 
that crime, it’s a show of force. Anyway in this case, as I understand, it was a stranger and the 
situation was already aggressive. Had you been a man, Caitlin, he would have beaten you to a pulp. 
This way, you at least survived. I believe that rape is so common because it’s a way for us to be 
aggressive towards women without killing them. An evolutionary advantage, as a matter of fact. A 
man who kills women won’t leave any offspring." Biggy stopped for a moment as if expecting a 
comment from Julian, but none came. Instead, Julian cast a glance at Caitlin, as if he wanted her to 
say something. But Caitlin leaned towards him, her hand searching his. Julian’s fingers closed over 
hers in consolation. But Biggy wasn’t finished yet.
     "You see," he was talking to Julian, "we’re all potential rapists, you and I are no exceptions." 
Julian flinched visibly, and Biggy misinterpreted his reaction. "Oh yes, you too," he said.
     But I killed a woman in rage, Julian thought while Biggy continued, "because if you aren’t, 
you’ll kill," making Julian blink in surprise.
     "So what type do you think you are?" Biggy peered at Julian closely, but didn’t receive an 
answer. "You’re definitely the killing type," Biggy answered his own question. "Dangerous and 
counter-productive." He leaned back, but Julian still refused to say anything. "Any comments?" 
Biggy urged at last.
     "It’s impossible for me to be objective here." Julian’s voice was cautious and quiet. "I’m quite 
capable of killing, mentally as well as physically. Rape however," he shrugged, "the thought has 
never crossed my mind."
     He was aware that Caitlin’s hand was still in his, and that she had hardened her grip. He 
looked at her and their eyes met.
     "Caitlin," he was whispering, "if I could lay my hands on... the one who hurt you, I’d kill 
him!"
     But Caitlin shook her head.
     "No," she said, "no, it’s not worth losing you. I’m glad that I don’t know who it was."
     But I know! Julian’s face betrayed nothing. And eventually, Cameron will pay.
     Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears and she hid her face against his chest.
     Julian gave Biggy a threatening look that shouted let her be! Biggy smiled innocently.
     "I didn’t mean to upset you, Caitlin," he said, but he was talking to Julian.
     He took a fork and bowed it with his fingers, before placing it in front of Julian. Any human 
man would have been provoked by the challenge, but the Kindred showed no interest in destroying 
cutlery. He touched Caitlin’s face, making her look up at him. He kissed her lightly and whispered 
in her ear:
     "Your makeup needs help."
     She excused herself immediately and went to the ladies’ room. The moment both men sat 
down after her departure, Julian picked up the mauled fork and shoved it towards Biggy.
     "What are you trying to do?" he demanded, the anger in his voice apparent.
     Biggy didn’t pretend innocence any longer.
     "Caitlin has talked," he said. "She has spilled all the beans. I’ve done my best to calm her 
down. Do you know where I found her yesterday?" It was a rhetorical question because Biggy 
answered it himself. "At a meeting of people who believe they have been abducted by aliens! She is 
troubled, and you shouldn’t ignore it!"
     Julian recoiled in shock.
     "You’re not serious," he whispered.
     "Oh, I’m serious, all right!" Biggy was very serious indeed. "If you harm my little kitten 
Caitlin, you’ll have to answer to me!" He was angry, and he didn’t mind showing it. But to his 
surprise, Julian smiled.
     "What has she told you?" he asked.
     "Everything!" Biggy was at last getting somewhere. "How strong you are, for instance."
     But Julian shrugged dismissal.
     "I’m stronger than average, that’s all." He looked pointedly at the battered fork and shook his 
head. "Somewhat beyond that," he added.
     Biggy placed his elbow on the table, his hand open, and said:
     "Let’s see, before Caitlin comes back."
     Julian looked at him in disbelief. He was about to ask Are you mad? and had to remind 
himself, he doesn’t know, he thinks I’m human. Only Frank Kohanek is stupid enough to challenge 
a Kindred. He placed an elbow on the table, their arms almost touching, presenting his slender 
hand, which almost disappeared in Biggy’s giant paw. For a fleeting moment Julian toyed with the 
notion of letting Biggy win, but when he felt the pressure increase, his joints locked instinctively, 
and the muscles in his arm turned to steel. He didn’t move his arm, but neither could Biggy sway it. 
After several seconds the old man hissed:
     "Push!" and Julian laid the big fist on the table, showing no strain. He let go the moment he 
felt Biggy relax. 
     "That’s far beyond the average!" Biggy exclaimed. "You could make a bundle out of that!"
      "I’m a businessman, not a wrestler," Julian sounded offended. He knew perfectly well that he 
was much stronger than any human man, but he was also aware that disclosing the fact endangered 
the Masquerade. He regretted that he hadn’t let Biggy win the arm wrestling. "I’m strong, but I’m 
not superhuman," he added. "There’s a limit to what I can do. Is there anything else you wonder 
about?" He changed the subject, hoping that it would distract the big man.
     "Ah!" Biggy jumped at the opportunity, "the healing!"
     "The healing?" Julian seemed at a loss. He sighed in exasperation. "What did Caitlin tell 
you?"
     "That you can heal like a lizard!" the old man snickered.
     "I am a lizard!" A feeling of unreality came over Julian and he started wondering if he could 
let the old man survive the evening. But Biggy laughed at the joke, a rumbling, relieving laugh. 
     "C’mon, it can’t be that bad! You’re not alone, you know. Lot of this stuff goes around. New 
age medicine and all that crap." Biggy was still laughing. "Well?"
     So Julian decided to play dumb.
     "I really don’t know," he said. "The doctors tell me that I heal quicker and better than others. 
That’s all there is to it." Of course, Julian Luna had kept all those who were connected with any 
medical profession at a healthy distance for more than a hundred years. But Biggy wasn’t satisfied 
yet.
     "What about Caitlin?" he asked.
     "What about her?" Julian continued to pretend stupidity.
     "She told me that you did it to her as well." Biggy’s wink and the expression on his face told 
Julian that the big man expected fraud, and Julian took advantage of it.
     "Haven’t you heard of the art of suggestion?" he said with a charming smile. 
     The most rational minds are the easiest to fool, he thought with gratitude and relief. The big 
man had saved his own life with his doubts. 
     But Biggy decided to enjoy himself to the very end.
     "The green eyes?" he inquired.
     Julian sighed tiredly.
     "I can’t do that deliberately." Julian wanted to get away, he had had enough. 
     And then Biggy said:
     "Okay, I won’t ask about that other stuff, you wouldn’t like it." But as Julian’s gaze focused 
on him, he continued, staring right back. "You know, the important stuff." He made a vulgar 
gesture. 
     As Biggy told Caitlin the previous evening, he wasn’t an easy man to scare, but as he was 
staring into Julian Luna’s shining green eyes, he felt the hair on his head rise and the rush of 
adrenaline almost choking him. At that very moment Biggy realized with absolute certainty that 
Caitlin’s handsome fiancé wasn’t human.
     "Oh God..." Biggy whispered, "I’m in trouble, aren’t I?"
     Slowly, Julian’s eye-color returned to normal, and he started to breathe again. 
     "Yes, you are," he said.
     But Biggy was braver than most. 
     "I don’t give a damn about myself," he blurted, "but Caitlin..."
     "Caitlin is safe," Julian said softly. "I love her, and I won’t let any harm come to her."
     "What are you?" Biggy asked at last, but Julian shook his head and rose as Caitlin came back 
to them. 
     They left the restaurant and Biggy refused to be driven home, making Julian smile.
     "I will talk to you again," he said to the big man, and seeing the big frame flinch he added, 
"you shouldn’t be afraid of me, after all, you’re Caitlin’s fairy godmother."
     Julian refused to be engaged in any conversation in the car. Caitlin gave up after a few 
attempts and fell quiet. Something was wrong, and it scared her. She had sensed the change when 
she had returned to their table, and the way Biggy avoided eye contact with her was ominous.
     Julian asked her to come with him to the library when they arrived at the mansion. She 
followed him, the fright making her shiver in spite of the warming fire. Julian looked at her for a 
long time without saying anything. At last Caitlin couldn’t stand it anymore. 
     "Julian, please, don’t just stand there," she begged, "say something!"
     She expected him to yell at her, steeling herself before what was coming. Therefore, she was 
totally unprepared when Julian said with infinite sadness:
     "Caitlin, today you have put my life in jeopardy."
     She stared at him uncomprehending.
     "Julian! What..."
     But he stopped her, his hand rising as if he wanted to blot her from his sight.
     "If the damage can’t be contained, we might have to part." He turned away, and she saw his 
shoulders shake as if he were crying.
     She started towards him, but he ran out of the library before she could reach him. 
     Caitlin spent that night alone, fear preventing her from sleeping.
 

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