Chapter 9

     The pain subsided as hours went by. 
     Nowadays, Julian was not a person who would let anything make him feel sorry for himself, 
the way he used to when he was mortal. He didn’t let his anger take over either, well aware that rage 
would impair his ability to think clearly. And he needed clarity now, more than he had ever needed it 
before. Why was he still alive? Why the torture? The indignity?
     Although it was Daedalus who had sent him into the trap, Julian was now sure that the 
Nosferatu had not betrayed him. Daedalus would have sent him to his death if he had had a reason 
to do that, but he wouldn’t have had him tortured. Daedalus’ character could allow murder and 
treason, but not atrocity.
     Suddenly, Julian remembered something that he hadn’t thought of before. Caitlin had 
mentioned Stephen’s request that she should contact him if she heard from Julian. Stephen hadn’t 
asked her to relay any messages to him or to request that Julian contact him. His blood brother had 
been trying to find him without letting him know that he was looking for him! The traitor!
     The torture - the pain had been real. The rescue - a fake. Why? Had Servio really done what 
Stephen had accused him of? Or was it Stephen, Julian’s own blood brother? Why? Why all the 
attempts on his life before, and why wasn’t he dead now?
     As the pain grew more and more distant, Julian became more and more convinced that it had 
been inflicted for a reason.
     They no longer want me dead because they need me, he thought. What for?
     The obvious struck him all at once, making him flinch. He, Julian Luna, had been able to beat 
them back onto their own turf. In order to regain what they had lost, they intended to force him into 
helping them. With torture!? Sexual abuse!? The idiots were trying to break him down! He almost 
laughed.
     Julian bolted up, disregarding the residue of the discomfort. As he had expected, the steel door 
of the windowless room that he was in was locked. He would not be able to break it down and 
decided against trying. He needed to conserve his energy. He sat down.
     Think! What options do you have?
     He was sure that the torture would be tried again, and soon.
     Julian was as afraid of pain as any sentient being. Knowing that he could not be damaged or 
maimed permanently didn’t help at all.
     I can’t pretend to give in too easily. They’ll know that I’m bluffing. A shiver of disgust went 
through his body. I can’t pretend that I’ve gone mad or they’ll kill me.
     He closed his eyes, wondering how much time had passed since he had been caught. He 
wasn’t hungry yet, so it couldn’t be more than twenty four hours. In another two or three days he’d 
be too weak to withstand anything, unless he’d be allowed to feed.
     Conserve energy!
     Julian Luna’s vital signs dwindled down to almost nothing within seconds, but his brain’s 
activity speeded up, searching for possible solutions.
     
     "Quite a performance!" Servio was saying. "But you didn’t have to go that far. After all, he 
was unconscious."
     Stephen shrugged.
     "I told him it was you," he said. "In any case, the abuse... it’s the only way to break his spirit," 
he laughed derisively. "But he didn’t like being tortured either. I don’t think it will take much 
longer to brainwash him completely. He could do unspeakable things for Archon, he’ll do things 
for us."
     Servio nodded.
     "Just make sure that he trusts you and that his Nosferatu doesn’t find him."
     "Don’t worry," Stephen retorted. "He’ll do what I want him to do."
     This wasn’t Arthur, whose advances Julian had invited half-consciously out of curiosity. 
Arthur’s overwhelming strength had been welcome. Being forced had freed Julian partly from the 
responsibility for what had happened. Deep down he knew that if he had protested strongly enough 
and made real effort to resist, Arthur would have backed off. Arthur had known that too. 
Afterwards, Julian had wondered if women did the same thing. Probably they often did, he had 
concluded.
     But this had been sheer violence. No amount of protesting or resistance would have saved him 
this time. A stake had been driven through his chest, immobilizing him effectively. He had been 
beaten severely again and his left wrist had been broken. There had been hands and bodies and 
more pain. He hadn’t seen them, as his face had been pressed against the concrete floor. But he had 
been conscious most of the time, and was able to discern the different clans. The only Ventrue 
among them had been his blood brother.

     The door to his cell was opened for a moment and someone was thrown in. In spite of the 
dark Julian could see the unconscious heap on the floor. The gnawing hunger made him move 
closer. The mortal was very young, a teenage boy, and Julian had to fight his reluctance. The 
Kindred law forbade feeding from children. But he needed the blood now, needed it to heal and 
regain his strength: to survive.
     He opened an artery in the youngster’s neck and drank until there was no life left in the thin 
body. Julian Luna couldn’t afford to be humane anymore. The blood revived him swiftly. His 
injuries disappeared almost immediately. The broken wrist mended within minutes. Julian looked at 
the dead boy without pity. Somebody had decided to feed him. He had a friend here.

     Julian watched Servio carefully.
     It had been decades since he had last seen the Prince of New York, but the Ancient was of 
course unchanged. Servio remembered the Roman Empire, although there was nothing imperial 
about him. His very name suggested that he had been a slave. He had already been old when he was 
Embraced. There was a big bald patch on the top of his head, the hair that was left was white. He 
was short and heavy-set but not fat. 
     Servio peered at Julian near-sightedly and his head moved from side to side in mocking 
sadness.
     "Archon’s young protégé," he chucked. "Julian... Julian Luna, isn’t it?"
     Julian looked at the Prince of New York intently without responding. According to the rules of 
the Masquerade, they were supposed to be equals.
     What’s gone wrong? Julian wondered.
     Servio was a Ventrue, incomparably older than Julian Luna, but apart from that there shouldn’t 
be anything mysterious about him. At least not as far as the Prince of San Francisco was 
concerned. They were of the same Clan, Embraced and bred to rule. The Ancient got up from his 
chair and moved closer. Julian crossed his arms over his chest, resisting an urge to protect himself. 
Everything inside him screamed run, but he knew that he wouldn’t get anywhere.
     "Come, come," Servio was saying. "Let’s talk."
     He put an arm around Julian’s shoulders and led him towards a couch. Julian managed to 
keep his muscles relaxed; he didn’t flinch at the old Kindred’s touch, nor did he try to get away, 
remembering what Arthur had told him.
     Servio smiled and Julian smiled back. He listened carefully as the Ancient described his 
demented vision of the future. The Romans had been able to subjugate most of the known world in 
their time. As Servio saw it, it could be done again.
     Wasn’t he aware that most of his supporters had been wiped out already? Julian wondered. 
Didn’t he realize that if the Masquerade were broken, the humans wouldn’t rest until the entire 
Kindred population was wiped out? It was the secrecy that protected them, not their strength or 
cunning. They were just too few, and had nothing with which to fight the fears of men. The mortals 
had wiped out whole nations because of different skin color or beliefs, and those were of the same 
species. How could Servio imagine that the Kindred could divide and rule the human race? 
Nothing would unite the humans as would a common enemy!
     The Ancient tightened his grip on Julian’s shoulder; he had to fight the desire to tear the 
offending hand off.
     "You can rule with me," Servio’s voice was lowered to a tempting whisper. "I’ll make sure that 
none of them touches you again." He pointed at the Kindred who hovered in the other end of the 
room and Julian looked at them. They were staring at him, their hostility quite apparent.
     Stephen was standing apart from them, an angry frown on his face.
     Has Servio promised him the same thing that he promises me now? Julian wondered. His 
gaze met that of his blood brother and he smiled, a warm, promising smile; then he looked back at 
Servio.
     "I just don’t see how you intend to make it all work," he said.
     Let him believe that I’m at least curious, he thought.
     The Ancient continued his tirade but Julian was no longer listening. He was thinking 
furiously.
     If Stephen thinks that I’ll replace him as Servio’s favorite, he’ll kill me! I must make him 
believe that I trust him.

     Julian was alone again in his cellar.
     He was sure that someone would come; someone would try to forge an alliance with him. One 
against the other: Servio or Stephen. The door opened and Stephen stepped in. Julian shivered 
inside. He had hoped that it would be Servio, imagining that the old madman would be easier to 
fool. Stephen sat down on the floor beside Julian, resting his back against the wall.
     "Well, what do you say, little brother?" he said after a moment’s thoughtful silence.
     Julian shrugged.
     "What is there to say? I’m tired and hungry..." He looked at his blood brother sideways and 
saw Stephen nod.
     "I’m sorry about that. I asked Servio to let me feed you but he refused."
     Julian suppressed a smile. Whoever had thrown that mortal boy into his cell did it without 
     Stephen’s knowledge. The body had been gone in the morning; it had been removed while 
Julian was asleep. Someone was trying to keep him alive and alert.
     What’s going on in this pit of snakes? Julian asked himself.
     "It has healed." Stephen had taken Julian’s arm and touched the wrist, bringing back the echo 
of the pain when it had snapped.
     "Of course," Julian responded. Stephen had stated the obvious. "I’m still Kindred."
     Stephen held on to his hand and Julian summoned all of his willpower not to wrench it away. 
Stephen moved closer and Julian steeled himself before what was coming.
     Somehow, Julian had found the ability to submit himself to the horror, accepting the pain, 
refusing to let his blood brother know how badly it hurt. Even hiding the relief when it was over.
     "You and I." Stephen’s voice floated in the darkness. "Together we’ll be invincible."
     Julian listened to his blood brother’s ravings as intently as he had listened to Servio’s.
     "Go on!"
     As long as Stephen talked, he kept still. Julian was hard pressed not to flinch every time his 
blood brother touched him. He clenched his teeth, fighting back nausea, and moved restlessly, 
searching a more comfortable position. Finding out this way that Stephen was a full-fledged sadist 
was more than Julian could stomach. He understood now why Archon had exiled Stephen to the 
cold north all those years ago, and why his Sire had been displeased by the fact that Julian had kept 
contact with his blood brother. As usual, when it came to other men, Julian had been blind.
     If he tries anything again, I’ll kill him! he thought with vehemence. I don’t care what’ll 
happen afterwards. The humiliation was even worse than the pain.
     Julian thought of all that he had lost: Archon, who had been more of a father to him than his 
own father had ever been. Cash, loyal to the point of defiance. Alexandra... Such a waste. Arthur, 
the valiant knight. In truth, he had died unnecessarily.
     Julian realized with gratitude that what Arthur had made him experience helped him now. He 
was sure that if he hadn’t had the knowledge that Arthur had given him, he would have reacted 
differently. He would have lashed at his blood brother in rage, regardless of the consequences. He 
thought of Daedalus.
     You and I, he repeated in his mind what Stephen had said, but meant something entirely 
different.
     Daedalus, if I get out of here, I’ll never let you out of my sight!
     Julian Luna had always accepted the presence of his bodyguards; it was almost a tradition. But 
he had never felt in need of protection; now he did. And he wanted Daedalus at his side: nobody 
else. He thought of the only time when Daedalus had used his strength against him, stopping him 
from attacking Cameron after Archon’s death. Right now Julian was in sore need of Daedalus’ 
strength and protection, and at last he admitted it to himself.
      Julian curled up against the wall when the pain was gone. Stephen droned on about his own 
vision of the new world order, but Julian was no longer listening. He was trying to disengage 
himself from the revulsion and loathing he felt, but it was in vain. What had been done to him 
would not be shut out of his mind.
     The voice came closer, its quality changed and Julian stiffened in dread. He tried to move away 
when a hand touched his chest, but his arms were caught.
     "Julian," Stephen’s urgent whisper was close to his ear, "you don’t want me to break anything 
again, do you?"
     But Julian bolted up with a snarl, his eyes shining, his claws out, his fangs bared. Stephen let 
out a deranged laugh.
     "It’s so much better!" he shouted. "Just resist!" And Julian slashed at his blood brother’s face 
with a roar.
     The door to the cell was opened suddenly and they were both blinded momentarily by the 
burst of light.

     When Julian woke up, he found himself wrapped tightly in some coarse cloth. He lay quietly, 
trying to figure out where he was. The droning of engines and the slight vibrations told him that he 
was aboard an aircraft. He inhaled sharply and suddenly recognized the smell and touch of the 
fabric that was restraining him: Daedalus’ cloak! He tore it from his face and looked around. He 
was stretched out across three seats, swathed in Daedalus’ protective garment; the Nosferatu’s 
anxious face was leaning over him.
     "Julian, please, try to stay in one piece!" Daedalus was saying, as the Prince stared at him 
uncomprehending. The Nosferatu would not be trying to make feeble jokes unless something was 
terribly wrong. 
     Julian sat up abruptly. The pain that shot through his body made him regret his action. 
Daedalus’ supporting arm was around his shoulders, easing him down carefully, until he was 
supine again. 
     "Just stay put," Daedalus said, "and you’ll be all right."
     "What’s wrong with me?" Julian asked.
     "Your neck is broken. He tried to kill you!"
     Julian frowned trying to remember what had happened, but the images his mind provided were 
a foggy blur. He had attacked Stephen; then the door had been flung open and Servio had come in, 
shouting... He couldn’t remember what happened afterwards.
     "Servio?" he asked, but Daedalus shook his head.
     "Actually, Servio saved your life. When I got there, Stephen was twisting off your head, while 
Servio was twisting off his. I’ve never seen anything like it before. By then you were out cold and 
they were screaming obscenities at each other, each claiming that you belonged to him. I got this 
feeling that they intended to split you in two." 
     Daedalus was silent for a moment, thinking, then looked Julian straight in the eyes.
     "What did you do to them? What did you offer?" he asked.
     Julian was trying to shake his head but his neck protested with painful cracking.
     "I honestly didn’t do anything except listen to them," he answered.
     "Is that why they almost tortured you to death and then killed each other over you?" The look 
on Daedalus face told Julian that the Nosferatu didn’t believe him.
     A shiver went through the Prince’s body, turning into violent shaking. His fingers closed 
forcefully on Daedalus’ hand.
     "They are dead!" he exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
     The Nosferatu shook his head in mock distaste.
     "I buried them," he responded. "After all, we’re the undertakers of the Kindred and for the 
Kindred."
     Julian relaxed but didn’t let go of Daedalus’ hand.
     "I’ve never thought that such a nightmare was possible," he whispered.
     "What happened?" Daedalus asked, but the Prince shook his head in spite of his injured neck. 
His determined expression told the Nosferatu that this time no coaxing in the world would make 
Julian talk. Whatever had happened to him, the Prince would keep it to himself, as if he were mute. 
But Daedalus had his own suspicions. He knew what sort of a person Stephen had been, and why 
Archon had exiled him.
     "No," Julian said at last. "I just want to forget."
     He looked at Daedalus’ hand that he was holding onto and added:
     "If I ever tell you again that I can take care of myself when you don’t think that I can, you may 
just laugh right up in my face."
     He let go of Daedalus’ hand and closed his eyes, his face contorting. The Nosferatu saw the 
tears and looked away feeling remorse. He had allowed his Prince to be tortured for two days and 
nights. No regrets could change that now. 
     The Nosferatu Primogen of New York had been quite clear in his demand: Servio had to die, 
but no Nosferatu could kill him. So Daedalus had sent in Julian Luna, relying on the 
resourcefulness of the Prince, just as Archon had relied on it in the past. The New York Nosferatu 
had made sure that Julian was fed and kept alive. It was he who had made Servio believe that Julian 
was the key to their success. Daedalus had been loyal to his Clan, but now, looking at the shaking 
body of his friend, the Nosferatu Primogen wondered if it were worth the prize.
 

     Lillie was the first one to realize that there was something different about Julian. A very subtle 
change had taken place, but Lillie wouldn’t be a Toreador Siren if she hadn’t noticed. Julian had 
always acknowledged her presence in a way that showed on some neurological level that she was 
female and he was male. It was an instinct that he wasn’t aware of; it didn’t matter that they were no 
longer lovers. It was there, towards every woman, young and old alike. But now, as he greeted 
everyone around the conclave table, his glance moved past Lillie as if she were an inanimate object. 
He had never done that before, even when he was angry with her, even after he had fallen in love 
with Caitlin.
     What might have happened in New York that would have neutralized Julian’s sexuality? 
Lillie wondered.
     Julian had returned to San Francisco apparently victorious, but he was in a bad mood, more 
impatient than ever.
     Lillie already knew of Stephen’s betrayal and Cash’s and Arthur’s deaths. She would have 
expected rage and sorrow, but there was an air of mental despair about him that made her suspect 
that something disastrous had happened to Julian himself. She didn’t dare to question him but 
stayed behind after the meeting and followed Daedalus to his cellar.
     "What’s wrong with him?" she asked the Nosferatu Primogen without preamble.
     He looked at her, his face disclosing nothing.
     "Let it be, Lillie!" There was a sadness in Daedalus’ voice that Lillie had never heard before. 
"Just let it be!" he repeated. It scared Lillie.
     For all of Julian’s conviction that he wasn’t addicted to anything, Lillie’s considered opinion 
was that the Prince was addicted to sex. It was a part of his character, just as were his temper and 
his elaborate way of speaking. But now, something had happened that had changed his personality, 
Julian Luna was no longer whole. It scared Lillie indeed.

     Julian and Daedalus did not speak of what had transpired in New York. The Nosferatu did not 
inquire again about what had happened to Julian during the time he was imprisoned there. The 
Prince didn’t ask about how Daedalus had found him and what happened between that moment and 
his awakening on the jet. Stephen’s name was not mentioned again. The Nosferatu never told Julian 
that he had killed the other torturers, one by one; he had not hesitated for one moment.
     Daedalus kept the golden bracelet that Arthur had given Julian in New Orleans. He hid it 
among some other secret possessions in his cellar. There was the hatchet that Julian had used to 
separate Goth from his head, as well as the glass from which Julian had drunk the wine with 
droplets of Daedalus’ blood. It was a shrine that would be destroyed if anybody but Daedalus tried 
to open it. It was a shrine that contained Daedalus’ worship of his Prince.
     Julian had banished every thought of Caitlin from his mind during his ordeal, sure that he 
would not survive. But now, it was all over. There was no trace of the injuries he had sustained, 
except in his memory, and he knew that sooner or later he would have to face reality. He would have 
to face Sasha, whose accusing eyes followed him whenever they met, and he would have to face 
Caitlin, although everything inside him balked at the very thought of intimacy. It had gone so far 
that he hated being naked and slept with his clothes on; he often cried when he was alone, out of 
shame and humiliation.
     After a couple of days however, he gathered up his courage and called Caitlin. He told her that 
he would come to fetch her soon. In the meantime, there was Sasha.
     She came to see him, unbidden, as he sat pondering over the best way to tell her about Cash.
     "Sasha!" Julian looked at his young relative with apprehension, but before he could say 
anything more, she came forward and took hold of his arm.
     "Julian! I’m so sorry!" she blurted out. "I should have come to you before - months ago!"
     Julian frowned.
     "What are you talking about?"
     "I saw her!" Sasha continued. "I saw them when they took her out of the Brujah’s 
compound."
     Julian repeated his question.
     "It was her. Caitlin!" Sasha said. "She had been blindfolded, but I recognized her anyway."
     Julian stared at Sasha in stupefied silence.
     "And you waited until now before telling me?!" he asked angrily at last. "Why?"
     "I was afraid," Sasha sniffled. "I was afraid that there would be a lot of fighting, and that Cash 
would be hurt."
     Julian sat down heavily.
     "I knew all the time that it was Cameron. I do wish that you had had more trust in me. I never 
would have let Cash get hurt if I could have prevented it. Only I couldn’t..." Julian looked away, 
unable to go on, and it was now Sasha’s turn to stare at him.
     "Has something happened to Cash?" she asked in a trembling voice.
     "Sasha," Julian started, "I’m so very sorry, but I have reason to believe that Cash is dead."
     "I knew it!" she sobbed. "I knew you’d get him killed!"
     Julian wished that he could tell her that it wasn’t his fault, but in all sincerity, he couldn’t.
     "I’m sorry," was all he could say, trying very hard to think of something with which to 
comfort her.
     "Sasha, you’re young," he said at last. "You’ll be all right. You’ll get over it." He heard how 
lame it sounded and Sasha screamed at him.
     "I hate you! It’s your fault! Everything is your fault! I won’t stay here another minute!" She 
turned abruptly but Julian was as swift as always and grabbed her by the arm before she reached 
the door. 
     "Where do you think you’re going?!" he shouted.
     "I’m going where I belong," she hissed at him. "To the Brujahs."
     She tried to disengage her arm from Julian’s hold.
     "Let me go!" she demanded. "You don’t own me!" And he let go as if stung.
     "Sasha, if you ever change your mind, your home is here," he said much more calmly, but she 
turned and ran away, leaving him, never seeing the tears in his eyes.
     I’ve lost her too, Julian thought in desolation.

     Nick was his usual angry self and believed that he had got Caitlin out of his system, when he 
ran into her in the library. Three weeks had passed since their encounter. He felt his heart start a 
war dance and his palms began to sweat; yet he couldn’t walk away from her.
     "Hi, Caitlin. How are you?" he managed to sound friendly.
     She looked up and blushed.
     "Hi, Nick."
     "Uh... should I go away, or can you stand my sight?" he asked dejectedly. It made her smile.
     "It’s all right," she responded. "I’m not afraid of you or anything. I just feel stupid."
     "Why?"
     A couple of people who sat nearby looked at them, making hushing gestures. The library was 
supposed to be silent. Caitlin blushed even more and Nick leaned close to her.
     "Let’s get out of here," he whispered. "We can talk, can’t we?"
     Caitlin nodded getting up.
     They went to Nick’s cottage; it took only a few minutes to drive there.
     They sat in the kitchen, sipping the coffee that Nick had made. 
     "I’ll be going to San Francisco any day now," Caitlin said.
     Nick looked straight at her.
     "Why did you come here in the first place. There’s nothing wrong with your father, is there?"
     Caitlin shook her head.
     "No... it’s not dad." She hesitated for just a second. "Julian had some problems. He wanted 
me to stay out of that trouble."
     "Yeah," Nick almost laughed. "Not very smart. Look what trouble you’ve got yourself into 
here."
     Caitlin blushed again and looked away as Nick continued.
     "Is there really nothing between us?"
     "Nick," Caitlin was still keeping her eyes averted, "I love Julian. I’m sorry." She sighed 
heavily. "When we... you and I... were together... It made me see how much I love him. It doesn’t 
feel like I betrayed him. He said..."
     "You told him!" Nick almost shouted making her wince.
     "Yes. He was here a couple of weeks ago. He’ll be back soon to fetch me."
     "What did he say?" Nick’s voice became scornful. "Am I going to end up in a ravine, 
dismembered like poor Joe?"
     Caitlin stared at him.
     "Don’t be daft!" she retorted. "I didn’t tell him it was you, and even if I had, it wouldn’t 
matter. Julian is not a murderer!" She was angry and there were tears in her eyes.
     But Nick was angry too. 
     "What did he say? That it was all right for you to cheat? Maybe he cheats too!"
     Nick’s unfortunate choice of the word startled Caitlin.
     "He said that bad sex is the best cure for cheating," she blurted out before she could stop 
herself. Caitlin saw that she had hit Nick where it hurt. His face set into an expressionless mask. 
She wanted to apologize, but before she could say anything, Nick got up and took hold of her arms.
     "So..." he said coldly, "if he’s so much better, why did you go to bed with me?"
     "Nick, please!" She tried to get away from him, but he wouldn’t let go, and started shaking her 
instead.
     "Why," he hissed, "why?"
     "Nick, please... " she repeated and started to cry in earnest. "I didn’t mean to hurt anyone," 
she sobbed. "I didn’t... I liked you... I... For God’s sake, I’m only human!"
     Now it was Nick who reacted to her choice of the word.
     "You’re human, all right," he said harshly, taking hold of her face with one hand and forcing 
her to look into his eyes, "but Julian Luna isn’t!"
     Caitlin’s eyes widened.
     "Are you out of your mind?" she was whispering.
     "Caitlin!" Nick was shouting again. "You love a vampire!"
     "You are mad!" she screamed and jerked free of his hold, then turned and ran out of the 
cottage.
     Nick’s anger turned to worry when he didn’t find Caitlin after twenty minutes. It was cold and 
dark, and he knew how easily one could get lost. After another fifteen minutes of searching he 
realized that he needed help. Caitlin would not survive a winter’s night in the Washington woods. 
Nick didn’t lock his cottage in case she came back while he was gone, and after calling the police 
station requesting help, he jumped into his pickup. Speeding dangerously, he made it to James 
Byrne’s house in fifteen minutes. He ran to the door without turning off the engine.
     He rang the bell and found himself face to face with the man he had the picture of. 
     "Well, for once it’s before midnight." Caitlin’s father’s voice came from somewhere inside 
the house.
     "It’s not Caitlin," Julian Luna said without looking away from Nick, who was just staring.
     "Yes?" Julian cocked his head to one side looking up at Nick.
     At the same time James Byrne came to the door. 
     "Ah, the police," he said, frowning. "Has something happened?" But Nick continued to stare. 
     Julian Luna looked as human as anyone did. He was even shorter than Nick had imagined. 
The photograph had not done him justice. He was very good-looking and Nick understood how he 
could have turned Caitlin’s head. But he was pale and seemed unwell. There was an air of suffering 
about him that Nick recognized immediately. He had seen it often enough in victims of abuse. 
Apparently, Julian Luna had been hurt recently, and hurt badly. All of Nick’s conviction about what 
Julian was crumbled to pieces. 
     "It’s Caitlin," Nick said. "We had a... a disagreement and she ran away. I can’t find her."
     "What? What are you saying?" James Byrne demanded, but Julian reacted without a word. He 
took hold of Nick’s arm and moved towards the pickup. 
     "Shouldn’t you put on a coat or something?" Nick said. Julian didn’t even have his jacket on.  
Old Byrne had put on a quilted jacket and was coming after them.
     "No. You stay in the house," Julian said to him, and to Nick’s surprise the old man nodded.
     "I’ll call the police," he said.
     "I’ve already done that," Nick broke in. "Give him your jacket."
     Caitlin’s father took the jacket off and handed it to Julian, who took it and climbed into the 
pickup.
     "Let’s go!" There was something in his voice that made Nick obey immediately. 
     Nick broke all speed limits again on his way back, making all conversation impossible. 
However, Julian didn’t show any interest in talking. Two police cars were waiting outside Nick’s 
cottage when they arrived there. They had brought two dogs. 
     Julian jumped out, and ignoring everybody else turned to Nick.
     "Where did she start?" he asked.
     "Right here," Nick answered. "Out towards the edge of the woods." He pointed at the tracks in 
the snow. "That’s her." 
     Julian started running along Caitlin’s footprints and Nick followed with a curse.
     "Wait!" he shouted. "I’ll get you a flashlight."
     He realized with incredulity that he had no chance to catch up with Julian, and would have 
given up had Julian not stopped just as he came to the first trees. Nick reached him, panting, a 
flashlight in his outstretched hand, but Julian Luna didn’t take it. Instead, he took off the jacket that 
James Byrne had given him and handed it to Nick. 
     "Are you mad!?" Nick exclaimed.
     But Julian didn’t care to respond. He threw the jacket to Nick, who caught it automatically.
     "Don’t let the dogs loose!" Julian said. He was gone in the next moment, leaving Nick staring 
after him.
     "What the hell is going on?" The voice of his colleague made Nick turn. Another policeman 
with a dog on a leash reached them, repeating the same question.
     Nick shrugged in exasperation.
     "Don’t let the dogs loose!" he repeated Julian’s demand.
     "Yeah, now we have two big city fools lost in the woods," the policeman commented.
     "I don’t think so," Nick retorted.
     They followed the double tracks, flashing their lights, keeping the dogs in check. Nick was not 
surprised when he saw that the footprints of the man’s shoes disappeared after a hundred yards. 
Instead there were the marks of a wolf. The white men didn’t seem to notice or care, and Nick kept 
his discovery to himself. The dogs started to bark.
     "Don’t let the dogs loose!" Nick said again.
     They continued deeper into the woods for another hour. Then Nick stopped them.
     "Keep the damn dogs quiet!" he demanded angrily. 
     They could hear the sound of breaking twigs: something was moving towards them. 
     "Over here!" Nick shouted and ran towards the sound.
     He bumped into Julian after just a few minutes, making him lose his balance. Julian fell on his 
back. Caitlin was in his arms, and he didn’t let go of her. Nick went down on his knees and pried 
Caitlin from Julian’s hold. She was unconscious, but alive. Her hands and face were cold but not 
frostbitten. She had been out in the cold less than three hours. She would be all right. Nick turned 
to Julian who was sitting in the snow, apparently exhausted. 
     "Can you go on if I carry her?" he asked quietly.
     Julian got up unsteadily.
     "I’m all right," he said. "I just hate the cold!"
     "Here." Nick handed Caitlin back to Julian, and took off his coat and hung it over Julian’s 
shoulders before reclaiming the unconscious woman. 
     They started back and met the other policemen soon. The dogs barked at Julian, and at the last 
moment, he stopped himself from snarling at them. He snarled at the policemen instead.
     "Get these animals away from me!"
     When they came to Nick’s cottage and Caitlin was placed on Nick’s bed, Julian started to 
remove her clothes immediately.
     "Call a doctor," Julian said. "Call her father. Tell him she’ll be all right." He turned to Nick. 
"Do you have a bathtub?"
     "No, just a shower," Nick answered. 
     "It will do."
     Nick picked up the phone. As he talked to the doctor and then with James Byrne, he watched 
as Julian took off all of Caitlin’s clothes without hesitation.
     "Tell James to bring some clothes for her," Julian said, "and for me."
     Nick repeated the demand. He looked on in silence as Julian examined Caitlin, concentrating 
on her feet and hands, then listening to her heart. She stirred and moaned.
     "Turn on the shower," Julian said, adding, "hot." 
     He lifted Caitlin and, kicking off his shoes, walked into the shower. 
     Nick heard her scream angrily. She’ll be all right, he thought.
     The doctor came ten minutes later, and Nick knocked on the bathroom door and walked in, 
carrying several towels. Apparently, they hadn’t heard him. Caitlin and Julian were standing under 
the shower, the steam almost hiding them. They were kissing, the hot water battering them. Nick 
walked out again and faced the doctor. 
     "I’m afraid your services won’t be required," he told the doctor. But Doctor Ray took the 
towels from Nick’s hand and walked into the bathroom without knocking.
     "Doctor’s privilege," he said to Nick over his shoulder. 
 
     Nick heard Caitlin scream again and wished he were somewhere else. Just as he thought that 
the situation couldn’t get more embarrassing, the doorbell started ringing and he guessed that it was 
the astronomer. For a moment he contemplated escaping through the window, then sighed and 
opened the door. As he had expected, it was Caitlin’s father, a big bag in his arms. Fortunately, 
Nick was spared any questioning because Doctor Ray led Caitlin out of the bathroom swathed in a 
bath towel. James Byrne concentrated on his daughter. Nick took the bag that Caitlin’s father had 
brought and emptied it contents on the table. He sorted out the men’s clothes and went back to his 
bathroom with them. 
     This time Julian noticed Nick’s entrance immediately, turned off the shower, took a towel and 
wiped the water off his face. Julian’s clothes were a wet heap in a corner.
     "It seems that Caitlin has come to no harm," he said. 
     "She’ll be fine, judging from her reactions," Nick answered. "Are you okay?"
     "There’s nothing wrong with me," Julian looked at Nick frowning. "May I have that?" he 
pointed at the bundle of clothes in Nick’s hand. "I assume that James Byrne has arrived?"
     Nick nodded and Julian smiled.
     "The good doctor’s perfect timing," he said enigmatically. He noticed Nick’s embarrassment 
and his smile became broader.
     "Could you make some coffee while I get dressed?"
     "Sure."
     Nick escaped into the kitchen. While he was preparing the coffee, he was pondering over what 
he had seen. Julian Luna was also good-looking without his clothes on. In fact, he was better 
looking without his clothes than when dressed. He was apparently in good shape without being 
overly muscular. Maybe a shade too thin. What had surprised Nick, was the lack of any visible 
trace of injury. He had expected fresh wounds: there was no doubt in his mind that Julian Luna had 
come to some serious harm within the last week. The echo of the pain was there as evident as scars 
would have been. It seemed so strange.
     What Nick didn’t know, was that the Kindred, in spite of their healing capabilities, or maybe 
because of them, had a pain memory that far surpassed that of humans. While humans retained 
scars and aches after injuries to remind them of harm, but forgot most pain as soon as it was gone, 
the Kindred had merely their memories to rely upon to keep them out of harm’s way. What Nick 
had seen was Julian’s constant awareness of what had happened to him, magnified by the revolting 
deliberateness of the inflicted pain. Julian Luna carried his scars in his mind, and these particular 
scars would never disappear. Nick had also noticed that there was no bullet scar on Julian’s leg.
     Julian came into the kitchen a few minutes later and Nick gave him a cup of coffee saying:
     "I don’t have anything stronger at home."
     "I just wanted something hot," Julian responded, downing the steaming liquid all at once, and 
held out the cup for more. 
     "Let’s see how Caitlin is doing," he said after drinking another cupful.
     She was dressed in a big woolly sweater and a pair of jeans and was sitting cross-legged on 
the bed, laughing at a pair of enormous man’s socks that her father had brought and was now 
trying to make her put them on her feet. 
     "Look, if I try to walk with these things on, I’ll trip and kill myself!" she complained.
     "You won’t have to walk," Julian said and they all looked at him.
     Caitlin threw down the socks and jumped off the bed. She ran to Julian and hugged him 
pressing against him the way a frightened child nestles itself into a parent’s embrace. Julian’s arms 
locked around her instantly and he beckoned to the others with his head - leave.
     Nick herded the older men out of his bedroom. He cast a last glance at the embracing couple 
before closing the door. They were holding on to each other like they’d never let go. 
     Nick heard the voice of his oldest uncle in his head.
     ‘If he’s got hold of that woman, there’s nothing left for you. Beware!’
     No, there’s nothing left for me, Nick thought, but he had no energy left to get angry.
     As Julian had promised, Caitlin didn’t have to walk. He carried her out to her father’s car and 
then into the house, but when he started up the stairs to her bedroom, old Byrne stopped him.
     "Take her to the master bedroom," he said. "I’ll sleep in the guestroom."
     Julian nodded gratitude and the astronomer nodded back.
     "Good night."
     Julian responded to Caitlin’s kisses, but didn’t press against her hand when she touched him, 
as he had always done in the past.
     "Caitlin," he whispered, "let’s get some rest." He sounded so tired that she accepted his 
refusal and went to sleep, curled against his side.
     It dismayed her when she woke up alone in the morning. Before she had time to decide 
whether she should sulk or be worried, Julian came in, bringing her breakfast. But she pushed the 
tray aside and took hold of his hand, dragging him towards her. He allowed her to hold him but his 
reluctance was apparent, and when her hands became bold, he recoiled from her, scaring her.
     "Julian, what is it? Are you angry with me?"
     "Caitlin..." There was a crack in his voice and he hugged her. "I could never be angry with 
you!" He was shaking and she tightened her grip around him.
     "Just hold me," he whispered. "Please, hold me!"
     She felt him relax after some time and decided to give it another try. He stopped her 
immediately.
     "Caitlin, I can’t!"
     She sat up and looked at him, frowning.
     "What’s wrong?"
     But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
     "Just give me some time," he begged.
     "Don’t do this to me!" she exclaimed.
     "Caitlin, it’s not your fault! I... I’ve been hurt."
     But Caitlin was relentless.
     "Tell me what has happened!" she demanded.
     She didn’t own the empathy of Nick Marliss, but she could sense Julian’s attempt to suppress 
something, and she would be damned if she would let him get away with it. Whatever had happened 
to him, she was there to help him get past it. As she saw it, it was her duty as well as her privilege.
     At first Julian refused to divulge anything. Caitlin took hold of his hands.
     "I’ll not let you go until you tell me," she said, knowing that her weakness was a formidable 
weapon against his strength. Julian would not use force to disengage his hands from her grip and 
was therefore unable to escape her interrogation.
     He looked at their hands and smiled sadly, well aware of her manipulating trick.
     "Caitlin..." he looked away, "someone whom I trusted betrayed me..." He pressed his lips 
together and his face contorted, then exhaled sharply. "He tortured me!"
     He tried to get away from her and she let go of his hands, shocked. He sagged and she 
embraced him cautiously.
     "Oh, Julian..." she whispered. He was shaking uncontrollably in her arms, and she 
remembered her own reaction after she had been raped.
     "I wish you’d cry," she said and he pulled her close.
     "I’ve done that," he whispered. "It didn’t help much."
     Caitlin didn’t ask anything more and Julian didn’t disclose any details. Whatever had 
happened, she could see that there was no physical pain anymore, but he hurt inside. It was difficult 
for Caitlin to imagine Julian as a victim of abuse, but nevertheless, what had been done to him had 
rendered him unable to be intimate with her.
     Even Caitlin’s father seemed to notice the despair in Julian but he didn’t ask about its reason.
     Nick Marliss was too angry to be afraid.
     Eventually, he sought out Julian Luna. Nick was sure now that Caitlin’s fiancé was what he 
suspected him to be: a vampire. Neither was there any doubt in Nick’s mind that Julian had killed 
Joe Montegna. Nick knew that he couldn’t do anything about Joe’s death, but he decided to 
confront Julian for Caitlin’s sake, if nothing else. He observed the house and called the moment he 
saw Caitlin leave. Apparently, she was going out to do some shopping. James Byrne answered and 
Nick asked for Julian, who agreed to meet him only after Nick mentioned Frank Kohanek.
     "I’ll come to your cottage," Julian said, "late tonight."
     It made Nick wonder if he would survive the night, but he was too determined to back off.

     It was long past midnight and Nick started to wonder if Julian would come at all. The thought 
that the vampire might turn out to be a coward made Nick both angry and relieved.
     Suddenly, Julian Luna was there. Nick had not heard the car and he wondered how the man 
had come to his place. Well, it didn’t matter; Nick had left the door unlocked on purpose. They 
looked at each other in silence for a long time. Julian leaned against the doorframe, his arms 
crossed over his chest.
     "You wanted to see me," he said, the question What do you want? implied in his statement.
     Nick leaned back in his chair, his empty hands visible. He didn’t want to provoke Julian Luna 
to violence. 
     "I know what you are," Nick said. To his surprise, there was no reaction from Julian. 
"Nobody will believe me," Nick continued, "except for my old uncles. But then, who’d care what 
the Indians blabber about." A note of bitterness crept into Nick’s voice as he rose from his chair. 
"However, I’d like to know something."
     Julian didn’t move from where he stood, but he relaxed somewhat.
     "What’s on your mind?" His voice was soft, almost friendly.
     Nick hesitated for just one second.
     "Did you kill Joe?" he asked.
     Julian Luna faced the Indian and his eyes didn’t waver as he answered.
     "Yes."
     "How... how did you do it?"
     "I ripped his heart out!" Julian’s voice was harsh. 
     "Because he shot a bullet through your leg!?" Nick was appalled.
     "No!" Julian was shaking his head. "Because he shot a bullet through my leg three inches 
from Caitlin!"
     Nick’s eyes became narrow slits and he sat down heavily.
     "I wouldn’t want you for my enemy," he said, and Julian smiled.
     "No," he retorted, "you wouldn’t." After a moment he added, "if I’m the one to decide, you 
won’t."
     "Nothing can be done about Joe, but wouldn’t it be better if you left Caitlin alone?" Nick 
asked softly. "Doesn’t she deserve better?"
     The question made Julian suspect that this must be the man who had been with Caitlin, and his 
eyes started to change. To his own surprise, he was able to fight back the urge to attack the mortal. 
Caitlin had made a mistake, that’s all. He exhaled slowly.
     "Do you think that Caitlin wants me to leave her alone?" There was a shade of contempt in 
Julian’s voice. "Because I don’t!"
     Nick remembered what he had seen in his own bathroom and his face darkened.
     "If she knew what you are..." he started but Julian didn’t let him finish.
     "Oh, but she knows!" Julian’s smile was openly condescending, the British accent 
exaggerating the insult. "She just doesn’t want to admit it to herself. The simple truth is that she 
loves me. She prefers the embrace a of a vampire to that of a human."
     Julian was aware that his cruelty was deliberate, but this man had made Caitlin run out into the 
cold night. Had Julian not been there to find her, she might have died in those woods. He wanted to 
hurt the mortal, if only with words, although he would have preferred an old-fashioned wallop. He 
realized with a feeling of triumph that he had succeeded in provoking Nick’s rage as the mortal rose 
slowly to his feet.
     Nick watched the other man carefully. Normally, he wouldn’t be so cautious, as Julian was 
apparently unarmed. Nick was a head taller and at least thirty pounds heavier.
     Julian stared back. His opponent was probably better trained and had greater reach, but Julian 
knew without doubt that he was incomparably swifter; and when it came to sheer strength, the big 
policeman had no chance.
     As others had done in the past, Nick made the mistake of believing in his bulk. He attacked 
Julian Luna. But the Kindred just wasn’t there, and Nick’s fist flew through the air, his body 
following the swing. He would have fallen if Julian hadn’t grabbed his shoulder. Nick found 
himself pressed to the wall, a hand on the back of his neck painfully preventing him from moving. 
Then the unbelievable pressure was gone; he felt his arms being jerked back and his wrists were 
locked in a steel grip.
     "I’ll turn the bones in your wrists into dust!" Julian hissed in Nick’s ear. "Just give me a 
reason!"
     The pressure increased and Nick knew that it wasn’t an empty threat. A picture of Joe’s 
mutilated body flashed in his mind, and he stopped struggling. Suddenly, he was free. He turned 
around slowly and faced Julian who stared at him angrily with shining green eyes. Nick swallowed 
hard.
     "You live because she lives! Joe Montegna died for less!" Julian snarled. "Remember that!" 
He turned and left.
     Nick exhaled with relief and sat down massaging his aching wrists. He was thinking hard for 
a long time. In the end he took the file marked Joseph Montegna and threw it into the fire. 
     He had decided that fighting vampires was not in his line of duty.

     The next day Julian told Caitlin that he must return to San Francisco.
     "Will you come with me?" he asked her softly.
     "Julian!" Caitlin exclaimed in exasperation. "Of course I’ll come with you! Did you think that 
I’d abandon you just because you’re unwell?" She started to sound angry. "I love you!"
     He smiled at her sadly.
     "I love you too, Caitlin," he said, "but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make love to you."
     Caitlin hugged him.
     "Julian, I hope there’s more to us than sex," she retorted.
     "I sincerely hope that it’s true," he responded.
     He was miserable and pale and moody, making Caitlin think of a sick child. If she hadn’t 
known better, she would have believed that he was ill. He seemed preoccupied, his mind on faraway 
things. Caitlin noticed that his distraction made him forget to be afraid of flying during their trip 
back to San Francisco.
     After they returned to California, Caitlin saw very little of Julian. He never came to her 
bedroom; Caitlin was thoroughly unhappy. Even if Julian couldn’t make love to her, she wanted his 
company. She decided to confront him.
     She stayed in the library for several evenings in a row, hoping that Julian would turn up 
eventually. When he did, he found her asleep in his favorite chair.
     "Caitlin..." He woke her, touching her face lightly. "What are you doing here?"
     "Waiting for you," she answered.
     "Why?"
     "Julian, you can’t do this to me. I won’t stand for it!"
     He blinked several times but said nothing.
     "Don’t shut me out!" Caitlin continued. "I need you. I need your presence." She started to 
cry. "Don’t leave me alone like this!"
     "Caitlin!" He lifted her up in his arms. "There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. I 
was afraid that you’d..."
     She silenced him by putting her hand over his mouth.
     "Don’t!" she said.
     He carried her to her bedroom and stayed with her all night. It was wonderful to sleep in his 
arms again, and it made Caitlin very happy, although she missed their lovemaking terribly.
     From that day on Julian stopped avoiding her company. They spent many evenings together, 
but he’d not follow her to her bedroom; there was always something he had to take care of. 
However, he’d sometimes be at her side when she woke up in the morning and that was gratifying 
enough. 
     In the end, after several weeks had passed, Caitlin decided that it was time to give it another try. 
When she woke up on a Saturday morning and found Julian asleep next to her, she let her hands 
touch him cautiously, her fingers caressing his chest and shoulders lightly. But as soon as she 
reached his belly, he opened his eyes and she froze. He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at 
her. After a moment’s hesitation, she let her hands continue, prepared to stop at the slightest protest 
from him. There was no protest, but neither was there any other reaction.
     Julian hid his tears by turning away from her, but his shaking shoulders disclosed his 
desolation. She held him until he calmed down, her embrace comforting. After he had gone, to her 
utter surprise, Caitlin found stains of blood on the pillow.

     Cameron had made up his mind.
     He might have acted differently if Julian Luna had treated him better, or worse. He would have 
welcomed the opportunity to fight open hostility. But the polite contempt that nobility usually 
reserve for snobs was more than he could take. Knowing that he was unable to harm the Prince 
physically, he decided to use the only advantage he had. The tabloids wouldn’t do; it had to be 
something more reliable.
     Cameron chose carefully. He made a copy of the diskette that Donna had given him and 
mailed it with an anonymous letter. A couple of days later he phoned the recipient of his small 
package. It had reached its destination, but the man on the other end of the line wasn’t convinced.
     "The lady in question is still missing," he said. "What guarantee do I have that this is the real 
thing. I wouldn’t like to get into trouble with Julian Luna for nothing."
     "She worked for him," Cameron answered. "It’s quite possible that he has done away with 
her." Cameron almost laughed at his own inventiveness. "I wouldn’t put it past him."
     "Hm..." The voice on the other end hesitated. "How come this diary ended up in your 
possession? And who are you?"
     "I can’t tell you." Cameron did his best to sound nervous. "Believe me, I would be in much 
graver danger if Julian Luna found out who I am, and who gave me the original diskette. If you 
won’t use it then I’ll find someone else who will."
     "Okay, just give me a couple of days to check a few things."
     Julian was glad that Biggy had called. The old radioman had been neglected long enough. 
Whatever he wanted to discuss would be fine with Julian. 
     It was the first time that Biggy entered the mansion. He looked around, making no effort to 
curb his curiosity. Everything around him emanated an atmosphere of wealth, old and discrete. 
Biggy nodded to himself. It was what he had expected. He was led into the library where Julian 
Luna was waiting for him. It was four in the morning and Biggy had just got off the air.
     "I must say," the reporter started, "being Kindred agrees with the hours I keep."
     Julian smiled at that.
     "As long as you remember to get some rest every now and then. We’re not inexhaustible."
     Biggy sat down and accepted the wine that the Prince offered him. They looked at each other 
in silence. 
     "Has Mary taken good care of you?" Julian asked at last.
     "Yes, yes." Biggy sighed. "Although I must admit that I was rather sorry that you weren’t 
around."
     "I’ve been busy." Julian made a dismissive gesture, then smiled again. "I intend to remedy that 
in the future. I was hoping that you would agree to be my adviser."
     Biggy stared in awe.
     "If you think that I may be of any help... I’d be honored." He didn’t know what else to say. 
Biggy had contacted Julian Luna in order to confront him with Amy’s diary, hoping that his Sire 
would somehow make the problem disappear. He got the diskette out of his pocket and put it on the 
table in front of Julian.
     "Do you know what this is?" Seeing Julian frown he added, "I mean what it contains."
     Julian looked at it for a moment before returning his gaze to Biggy’s face.
     "I don’t know what it contains. But I guess it must be some information implicating me in a 
crime, isn’t it?"
     "Not crime exactly." Biggy picked up the diskette again. "It’s a copy which has been sent to 
me anonymously. Does the name Anamaria Weatherstone sound familiar to you?"
     "Ah! The infamous diary!" Julian exclaimed. "Poor Caitlin! She went to such great lengths to 
destroy it."
     Biggy stared open-mouthed at his Sire.
     "Are you telling me that Caitlin knows about it?" he whispered at last.
     "She found it, or rather, she found the original," Julian responded.
     "And?"
     Julian shrugged. 
     "She didn’t like it. Neither did I. I could hardly tell her what I really did, could I?"
     "You killed her!" Biggy jumped up and Julian grimaced.
     "Don’t be stupid. I fed from her."
     "Then... Why is she missing?" Biggy wondered. "Did she try to blackmail you?"
     "With that?" Julian shrugged again. "A hundred years ago it would have created a scandal. 
But today... Caitlin is the only person it might sadden, and she knows about it." He looked away 
before continuing. "I don’t know what has become of her and, frankly, I don’t care."
     "Maybe you should," Biggy retorted. "If there’s a police investigation, you might get into 
trouble. This is only a copy. The guy said..."
     "You’ve talked to him?" Julian interrupted. "You know who he is?"
     "No." Biggy shook his head. "He phoned." He dug into his pocket again and produced a 
small tape recorder. "You want to hear him?" Noticing Julian’s surprise he added, "I record all my 
calls. Just in case..."
     Julian nodded and Biggy pushed a button. They listened to the short conversation and Biggy 
watched his Sire. But Julian Luna didn’t react in any way. In the end Biggy had to ask.
     "Do you recognize the voice? Do you know him?"
     "Yes." Julian nodded and smiled malevolently. "Fortunately, he’s Kindred."
     "Why did he send it to me?" Biggy wondered.
     "Your reputation is impeccable," Julian answered. "If you made it public, it would be believed. 
A nuisance. Her family is wealthy and might make trouble. But I’m not a pauper, and I have friends 
in the right places too. I believe it’s supposed to make Caitlin mad at me."
     "Wouldn’t she be?"
     "She was." Julian looked away again. "She forgave me."
     "I just wonder..." Biggy was frowning. "Why didn’t he send it directly to Caitlin?"
     "I don’t know." Julian was thinking aloud. "Maybe he wanted to create the biggest possible 
fuss. But he made a mistake. In fact, three mistakes."
     "Mistakes?"
     "Yes." Julian’s cold smile was back. "First, Caitlin already knows about it, so it’s no longer a 
threat. Second, he didn’t contact you in person, so he doesn’t know that you’re Kindred, my 
Kindred. Third, he called you and got himself recorded, so now I know who he is."
     "What should I do about it?" Biggy asked.
     "I don’t want it read on the radio," Julian responded. "Neither does Caitlin. But he’ll contact 
someone else. Why don’t you talk to Caitlin? You’re both journalists. Together you should be able 
to think of something intelligent to do. Maybe... Maybe you should turn it over to the police?"
     "Is it a good idea?" Biggy wondered. 
     "It’s a wonderful idea!" Julian laughed. "Don’t worry, I can handle the police."
     Caitlin had taken down the picture and brought it to the table. She wanted to look at it in a 
better light. It depicted Julian and a woman in eighteenth century clothes. The picture itself seemed 
very old. Its frame was made of wood and a glass pane shielded it.
     Evelyn and Julian Luna, 1856, said the writing in the lower right corner.
     Julian’s great-grandfather, Caitlin thought. How alike they are.
     Just as she was hanging the picture back, standing on a chair, she heard the door to the library 
open. Believing that the picture was securely up on its hook, she let go of it and turned around. 
     "Look out!" Julian shouted and she heard a crashing sound above her head. The old frame 
had broken open in one upper corner and the glass pane started to fall over her. It was still caught in 
the opposite corner and its weight made it break as it fell. Caitlin put up her arms, protecting her 
face as the broken pieces of glass fell over her. She cried out as the raining glass cut into her arms 
and shoulders. She lost her balance and would have fallen off the chair, if Julian had not run to her 
side and caught her before the accident became even worse.
     Caitlin was bleeding from several cuts, a big shard of glass was stuck in her left shoulder. The 
blood ran down her arms and her chest. Julian removed the shard carefully and threw it aside. He 
took off her blouse and looked over her wounds. They weren’t deep but bled profusely.
     "You’ll be all right," he whispered.
     There was something in his voice that made Caitlin look up. The stony impassivity that had 
haunted her for weeks was gone from his face. She saw the green light shimmer in his eyes as he 
drew her close and kissed her passionately. She was surprised and bewildered but responded to his 
kiss, and, as he pressed his body against hers, she became aware of his desire. His hands ripped off 
her blood-soaked bra.
     "Julian!" Caitlin broke off their kiss. "I’ll bleed all over you!"
     He mumbled something incoherent, lifted her up in the air and started kissing her neck and 
breasts. Within seconds his face and hair were covered with Caitlin’s blood. He took a few steps 
away from the scattered glass and laid her down on the carpet.
     "Julian," she whimpered, but somehow, his kisses and caresses overcame the stinging pain of 
her cuts. He shredded the rest of her clothes and rammed into her without taking off his own. His 
shirt was soaked with Caitlin’s blood. He snarled when she complained that he was hurting her, and 
tried to take hold of her pushing hands. His movements were jerky and awkward. All the control 
that had impressed and sometimes irritated Caitlin in the past was gone; it was as if she were 
overcome by a force of nature.
     The sight and smell of Caitlin’s blood had driven Julian crazy. How the Kindred instinct to 
feed had been transformed into sexual arousal was beyond his capacity to comprehend. His lips 
and tongue moved over her injuries, removing the pain and closing the wounds: there would be no 
scars left. Caitlin then realized with dread that Julian was licking the blood off her skin. She was 
dizzy from the loss of blood and shocked by Julian’s weird reaction.
     Caitlin understood that it was the sight of her blood that had triggered Julian’s passion, a 
passion that she had thought was lost. Uncontrolled, it had scared her out of her wits, but now she 
was thinking that she would gladly give her blood if it could bring Julian’s love.
     He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breath coming in uneven gasps. His mouth 
moved slowly over her shoulders and arms where there was no trace left of the cuts that had been 
there only minutes ago. His kisses sent waves of pleasure through her. This was the Julian she 
knew, or did she?
     He raised his head after a while and looked into Caitlin’s eyes, a shaky smile on his face.
     "I hope I haven’t hurt you too much," he whispered.
     "Oh, Julian!" She laughed, hugging him tightly. "You can’t hurt me!"
     "I can’t?" He kissed the tip of her nose tenderly. "Where is your journalistic objectivity?" he 
chided her.
     She touched his face, caressing fingers soft, trying to smooth the lines of worry.
     "Even if you hurt me, it doesn’t hurt," she said, the sincerity in her voice unwavering. "Believe 
me!"
     He raised his eyebrows in an expression of doubt and Caitlin took hold of his chin, shaking 
him lightly.
     "Julian, you once told me that I can’t hurt you. It works both ways you know. As long as you 
love me..."
     He kissed her, assuring her that he loved her and that he always would.
     He was much gentler then; her soft moans of pleasure his reward. She shook violently in his 
arms, and the dark, sweet wave engulfed him as if she had infected him with her feelings. Afraid that 
she might see that his tears weren’t transparent, Julian hid his face against Caitlin’s neck; forgetting 
that her blood was all over him, a few more red droplets wouldn’t make any difference. It was the 
second time he was crying in Caitlin’s arms, but these were the tears of relief. He had been released 
from the suffocating nightmare that had kept him in its clutches for so many weeks.
     Caitlin held him tightly, well aware of his reaction, believing though that he was trying to hide 
the very fact that he was crying. She was wondering about the strange influence that blood seemed 
to have on her lover. She had a vague feeling that something similar had happened before, that 
somehow her blood had had a profound impact on her relationship with Julian in the past, only she 
couldn’t recollect any details. The name Manzanita surfaced in her mind; she was quite sure that 
something had happened there that she was unable to remember. Was it something akin to what had 
happened in her parent’s house? No, like today, it had been her own blood that had flowed, not 
Julian’s.
     Caitlin realized with fright that she had opened her heart and her body to a man who had 
brought inexplicable mysteries into her life, secrets that were beyond her capability to grasp.
     He lay quietly now, resting, Caitlin in his arms. His eyes were closed but he didn’t sleep and 
his hold on her would tighten a little every time Caitlin moved, as if he were afraid that she would 
try to get away.
     She looked at his face. It was calm and beautiful, now, when the pain was gone, and the blood 
had been washed off. 
     So, what’s wrong? Caitlin wondered. Why are you different from other men? Different from 
other people? she corrected herself.
     Reluctantly, she recalled the results of the Internet search that she had made and then 
remembered Nick’s accusation.
     No! This is ridiculous, she admonished herself.
     But she looked at the healed skin on her arm and then at Julian’s serene face, and she knew 
that she would not rest until she knew the truth.
     Nick had not succeeded in seducing Caitlin away from Julian Luna, but his outburst had 
managed to plant a seed of suspicion in her mind and it had started to grow. 

     Daedalus looked over the mess in the library. He saw the broken frame, the scattered glass, the 
blood trail on the carpet; it wasn’t difficult to guess what had happened. But what happened 
afterwards, he wondered. Was Caitlin still a mortal? As Daedalus saw it, everybody’s life would be 
easier if Caitlin became Kindred. But Daedalus wouldn’t dare suggest that, knowing how much 
Julian cherished his mortal lover and how much he missed his own humanity.
     Daedalus was worried. A human living among the Kindred was bound to create problems. 
Sooner or later something would happen. Sooner or later Julian Luna would have to make a choice, 
unless fate chose for him. Sooner or later the human woman would know. What then? Daedalus 
shook his head in despair. Why did the Prince have to be so imperfect? Why did he have to be so... 
human?
     Daedalus made sure that the library was cleaned and took the picture of Julian and his wife to 
his cellar. He would make a new frame for it: one that would hold. He looked at the picture. Was it 
really only a hundred and forty years ago? He still remembered the night when Archon Embraced 
Julian as vividly as if it had happened only yesterday. He had known then just as he knew now, that 
Julian Luna would court disaster, forever balancing on the edge between the dark realm of the 
Kindred and the pulsating, restless world of the living.
 
 

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