I’ve lost myself.

Well, okay, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?

Let’s change it up and say I came real damn close, but thanks to a few people, I kinda gave myself a mental shake and I think we’re back up and runnin’, kids.

Let’s start us at th’ beginning, ‘cause I been not writing forever and a day. Couple months back, I think I made it known that we died. City of Harien, Igorath, crazy library in the middle, and me findin’ out just how close tied I was to King.

Well, I also wrote ‘bout king, his other self, makin’ a world changing appearance in my life. So we’re all on the same page there. But see, the more this shit started goin’ down, the more I started thinking.

I have the right to know about all of this.

It was pretty damn clear that even if I’d thrown my hands up and said, fuck it, I’m not going to make any more attempts to find out who I am or what I did, at all, ever, that it wouldn’t have mattered. Things and people from my past kept finding me, and I was damn sick and tired of being completely off balance when people walked up to me and said shit like ‘well hello, we meet again, blah blah fucking blah.’

About the tenth time that happened, I’d got to where I was done with it. If people were gonna pull that shit, I was gonna be right-footed about it.

So I set to poking’ my nose in all the dark corners of myself, careful as I could, pushin’ right to the edge of what was okay and what wasn’t. I wasn’t happy with anything I found there. Nothing made me proud. Nothing made me happy. But I needed to know, I deserved to know, and I was fucking sick and tired of letting other people decide that I didn’t get to know.

How the hell could I claim to be a new person if I had never made the choice? Maybe whoever I was in the past had, but I, Semie, myself- I had never chosen to be who I was. Being a person because you don’t have an option isn’t being a person.

It’s being made and manipulated, same as The Man In Black wanted to, same as Feng, just in a way people thought was right and good.

I really should have been more careful, and I shoulda known, in the end, that combined with what I was doin’ and what we were dealin’ with, that I was gonna get too close to the white-hot part of the fire in the middle and burn the ever living fuck out of myself.

Which is what happened.

We’d set off to find Conchetta. A lot happened before that, actually, so let me try to sum up the important bits. I’m leaving some stuff out- and a lot of detail- ‘cause it’s been months.

We had a lot of little runs before we got home; survived our misadventure in the Blasted Lands, got involved in a war, woke up a mist dragon, got involved in another war, died, came back, met some interesting people and got involved in another war, but we left while that one was getting going. We went back to count Edress’ home and offered our assistance there, and we discovered in an attack by werewolves why Semie should never, ever, press the red button in her own mind.

Ever.

We met with a Bladesinger, who was quietly brave and strong and I liked immediately. He stayed with us for a few weeks and then got himself taken or killed by some kind of monster that had been attacking magic-users in a city we had come to stop in. We had no ability to even try and help him. We don’t even know that he’s alive.

Valor woke up to the fact that it’s me he wants, and the crystal is King. Well, not it’s not. It’s another version of king, a past king, sort of like Meyonne, in a sense. He is the crystal. That led to a lot of…turmoil, I guess…for me, because I still felt like I cared for the thing that had been king. He was still something that had a mind and a will of his own, and I didn’t take kindly to Valor attempting to use me to manipulate him into doing what he-Valor- wanted. Damn and hell, did I not take kindly to it.

The situation went a bit like this-it started with king-past king, not real king- landing’ on our ship mid-flight.

I knew it was a bad idea. Or rather, I should have known; but forgive me for underestimatin’ Valor’s stupidity. I had my doubts about lettin’ king- this king, and yeah, that lowercase is on purpose, King is King and this king is, y’know, king- anywhere near the ship, but you try and keep a ferociously angry, feral psi-were bound mentally to you at bay when he don’t wanna be kept at bay. I’m pretty sure it ain’t a good idea on any level.

Besides. He had a dead body in his eyes, and I had a sinking feeling I might know who it could be, (he hatedhatedhated Damon, wanted Damon dead, and for a moment I was so sure and my heart was in my toes and I was going to be so sick) and either way, was time to pay the piper, y’know? Whoever was dead, was my fault he was dead, and I owed him standin’ there and lookin’ at him and facin’ up to what I’d done.

“Semie?” Ann’s voice, wary, watchful, cautious.

“Tell them he’s not attacking.” My voice was barely audible to my own ears, over the sharp voices of the crew around me. But Ann’s voice raised above the din and the ship slowed, and then, bam, he was there. He was there, and huge, and savage. And the fear was unexpected.

This king scared me, and I know he…shouldn’t have done. But he did. And when he was clutching the dead body of a werehunter-

Just a random werehunter. Oh, Semie, you selfish fucking cunt, you are not allowed to feel…the man is dead. There is a dead man here. You are not allowed to be glad it isn’t The Were Hunter or Damon.

He snarled, the sound rumbling through my feet, my spine. “I know what will make you remember.” He said, King’s voice but not King’s voice.

“Feed with me.”

And he tipped the head back, revealing a pale, remarkably untouched throat. Stunningly so, in the mess that was the man’s face; pale and perfect. There was something wrong in that.

I recoiled, fighting to keep the grimace off my face.

“King. King, that isn’t going to make me remember.” Quietly, gently. His roar eclipsed it, a savage counterpoint to my voice, and there was a pause.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“No.” Before I could stop it, because there were a few hims, and then, with a resigned sigh, “who are you referring to, exactly?”

You know. Oh, how you know.

“King, no-”

“It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s in your mind-”

I closed my eyes, desperately searching for words-

“King.”

Valor’s voice, behind us, imperious and demanding, and I felt a jolt of horror, of sudden realization.

How could I have ever thought- oh, fuck, of course he’s going to-

“How dare you address me?” I hoped like hell that this would end it; that king would brush him off as unimportant, self-important, as useless and pompous as he was.

“I can help you.” Slimey. Oiley. Valor sounded- sounded so much like The Man In Black, for one instant, that it made my heart stop. He sounded foul, vile, horrible.

“Valor, shut up.”

“You want Semie to remember, do you not?”

Oh no. No. We are not doing this. You are not going to be another person to use me, and you are not going to use him. To manipulate and trick and hurt him, you lying- you fucking-

“Valor, shut up!”

“I can make her remember.”

Lier. Like I’d let you anywhere near me anyway, you weasel. Cowardly, lying, manipulative, weak-willed weasel.

He carried on about how he had been gifted powers by higher beings, how they were the best way to help me remember, what better way to make me remember-

The roar of hate shook the ship. The man, who he’d been abusing in his frustration with me, was hoisted into the air and ripped in half.

Like wet parchment- like a toy being ruined by a child in the midst of a tantrum. A very big, very angry, very dangerous, very frightening child. Blood sprayed; Ann, from behind me, made a sound of pain, leveling her bow. king was lunging away, whirling on me.

“I relive you of your bond!”

Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that- shouldn’t that be a good thing? He’s not my King. He’s not- but I can’t-

“Stop him. Now!” Ann was hissing in my ear. He was breaking the ship’s railing, and I knew she was worried he was going to do real damage to the vessel. It was, honestly, the last thing on my mind.

If it’s not with me, then he’s a live wire- more so then normal. Right? And anyway, I can’t just- I can’t just-

King! I called, without moving my lips, then I was across the deck and grabbing his arm. He didn’t throw me off, he didn’t snarl; he immediately got down on one knee, yielding to my touch, leveling himself with me.

And in that moment, I knew that I couldn’t…discard him. He wasn’t My King, my flesh-and-blood King that I had once called- still called?- friend. He was a vicious creature, blood-thirsty and terrible and cruel, but there was somewhere in there some part of him that cared, that cared about me, and his motivations for it didn’t matter. I couldn’t turn my back on that.

I put my hand on his face, turned him to look at me. He went, surprisingly, let me guide his head around and I suddenly wasn’t even a little bit afraid of him. I’d been stupid ever to be. Those around me, maybe, but I doubt me.

I don’t think hurting me was the first thing on his mind.

*Whatever I said here.*

I knew I’d made a mistake the second Riddel slid past my lips. It was just instinctive, to say his full name, a flinch reflex. That doesn’t help what happened next. He stood, all easily eight feet of him, pure power rolling off him in waves, threatening and beautiful and terrible, and I thought, oh, help me, oh help me, he’s magnificent, he’s stunning.

He was mine. I was like that. We were like that. Together. That’s disgusting.

That’s amazing.

What was I, that he wanted me as his own?

What was I?

“Riddell.” The roar shook our ship, made me swear under my breath and clamp my hand to my mouth.

*Whatever the conversation was here.*

And then he was gone, over the side of the ship; pausing only for a moment to meet my eyes, steady, constant.

And I felt my heart break. Because I knew, watching him, that this wasn’t a part of me anymore. That whatever we were, we couldn’t be it now, not without some serious consequences.

But I still…

I still…

“The bond will be released when your husband is dead!”

And he was gone.

There had been a long pause after that, one in which Valor riped me a new one and threw a fucking tantrum because I’d tried to stop him. Meyonne went down with him, and when he came back up, to my surprise, it was my side, not Ann’s, that he drifted to.

“Maybe,” He said, soft and slow, after a long pause, “you should go speak to Valor.”

“He’s not interested in anything I have to say.” I spat back, bitterly. I didn’t want to hear it, not from Mr. Can Do No Wrong himself, not from Mr. Fucking Perfect. I wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s because you don’t open your damn mouth.”

My jaw dropped, and I spun, staring in shock. Tone perfectly calm and flat, as if discussing calmly our next stop, his face unruffled and blank.

“…According to someone, I open my damn mouth too often.” I drawled, eyebrows up. Well, you have my attention, Meyonne.

“And you always say the wrong thing.” With a hint of amusement.

Well excuse me, Your Highness. We can’t all go along like a cat, never putting a fucking foot wrong. We can’t all be like Darling Ann, She Who Can Do No Wrong even when she fucking does.

“’Xactly.” Was all I muttered. I didn’t blow up at him. We had enough tension on the ship as it was, and I knew if I said one word, Ann would be to us in a moment, and I’d have at least two of ‘em on my one.

Who fucking needs ‘em, anyway?

And that is where it started, ladies and gents. That’s where the little crack opened wider, made me vulnerable to what happened next. That’s where I started to drift. I knew better then that. I did. Even then, there was a little voice whispering you do, you want them.


“You’ve been trained in the art of diplomacy,” He was going on, apparently not noticing the look on my face. Or he’s thinking’, it’s just another Semie sulk, it ain’t important.

I felt my annoyance rachet up a notch or two.

“Kinda.” I looked at him, forced my usual cocky, crooked smirk.

“Then perhaps you should go resolve the situation.” He stopped, suddenly, and his face…changed. The superior, arrogantly calm look I hated vanished, and he gave me That Look, the one that always makes it so damn hard to keep hating him.

It’s a little sad, that look, old-aching sad, like a wound that’s healed over a long time ago but left pain behind. It’s intense, too, looking at me like he wants to see somethin’ that ain’t there. Like he wants to see whatever it is he sees in Ann that makes him see her as someone to stick by. It’s soft, though, not hard-intense but soft, lookin’ right down to the core of me and back again in a way that always makes me want to cry without knowing why. And it’s not as steady as his usual stare. He looks right into my eyes with it, sure, but it’s like he ain’t seein’ me, and he couldn’t if he wanted to.

When he looks at me like that, I don’t hate him. When he looks at me like that, I think, you and I, Meyonne, we’re more alike then we wanna be, hu? ‘Cept you got this, and I don’t. You can handle this, and I can’t.

And then I usually hate him again, because that pisses me off, that he does this so well. That he’s so okay, and I’m so not.

and yeah, cause ain’t no one gonna see this maybe it ain’t him I hate meebe it’s sometimes just a little a lot me.

Anyway, he gave me that look, and leaned close, the way he does that makes me wanna move back and regain some personal space.

“Because who knows if we have a soul?” He whispered. And he sounded…

He sounded….


What the fuck had Valor said to him, that stupid fucker? If he had fucked Meyonne up again, after all our hard work, I knew for a fact I was gonna murder him.

One deep breath. Two.

We do have a soul. So do you, Meyonne, and so help me if he told you anything otherwise…it doesn’t matter, anyway.

You’re real, damnit. You’re real to the people that matter. How many times we gotta say it?

But then, maybe it wasn’t as bad as all that. Meyonne hadn’t seemed hurt when he’d said it; he had seemed, in fact, kinda strong. Bitter-sweet, maybe, but…not hurt.

One deep breath. Two.

Daggers off. Noman took them.

Sword off. He took that, too.

“Do not loose those.”

Eyeroll shared with Ann. Ignore them.

And go below decks.

I will ignore all homicidal urges as I have no weapons. I will ignore all homicidal urges as I have no weapons. I will ignore all homicidal urges as I have no weapons…

I’ll go ahead and give you our conversation, for the hell of it.

I tapped, lightly, on the wall, with a knuckle, a light pattern.

“Yes?” His tone was sharp.

“Meyonne said the kids should have a talk.” I replied, on a resigned, careful sigh.

“That might…be wise.” Carefully. Almost cautious. Good. He should be.

“Alright…“ Swallow your pride, Semie. “So- let’s talk.”

“Shall I start?”

“By all means.” Even I herd the way my voice darkened.

“As much as much of this is probably going to be very familiar, I think it’s best that we start at the beginning.” He sounded like a teacher. He sounded- clinical, removed, aloof. I hated him for it.

“Alright.” Because I didn’t trust myself to say anything else, and I was supposed to be trying, dammit.

“Very good.” Don’t praise me, you brat, I’m not a dog. Not your dog, anyway. And so help me, if we’re going to keep usin’ that analogy you might wanna remember I bite.

He then proceeded to launch into everything I already knew about him; his backstory, his devotion to his family.

“I didn’t actually tell you the reason why I want that crystal,” He said, and he was meeting my eyes steadily and although his tone was still pompous and condescending, well, that was just Valor, wasn’t it? He didn’t seem to know another way to talk to people, and frankly, I was diplomatic enough to know that sometimes you have to ignore the tone and just focuse on the words.

“I thought you were informed- a mistake on my part.”

Oh, you can admit those, can you? Very good, Valor, if I had a treat I’d give it to you.

He informed me that his family’s safety road on that crystal, on the shoulders of king, and that apparently his opinion of his Grandfather bordered on obsessive adoration. The way he spoke of the man made me think of a child talking about a hero, and in a way, I think that’s what Valor was, in that moment. A child, discussing someone who had always been his hero- and he couldn’t or didn’t want to see that man as anything else, as an adult. In part, it was stupid and spoiled and closed minded and foolish.

In another way, I completely understood.

Then he had to go and open his mouth again, just when I was starting to soften towards him. Rather then shutting the fuck up and letting me digest how important this was to him- rather then focus on what the reasons were that I should see his point of view- he instead went on a fucking tangent about how he had done so much for us, and helped us, and that we hadn’t given him a single thing in return when he’d done everything out of the goodness of his heart.

I think this is the point where I shut down.

I mean, I can’t say I went into things with an open mind. And I can’t say there was really much of anything he could have said to make me sorry for my actions on the ship. But I had started to understand his world view a touch. I stopped even trying at this point.

And then he went and sealed it.

“There is literally nothing- nothing- you can say that would convince me otherwise.” He finished, nose in the air. There were few saving graces here, but I’m a big enough person to list the two.

I gave him points for his balls and his strength in stickin’ to what he thought was right. There’s somethin’ to be said about that degree of loyalty- that it’s stupid or impressive is up to you, but I can’t lie and say there is ain’t a whole lot I wouldn’t do for Talron.

Now, I wouldn’t do it just ‘cause he looked at me an’ asked. Not unless he had a damn good excuse for it. But still, that loyalty and the intense devotion to what he thought was important- yeah, can’t hold that against ‘im, even if I want to. An’ I do, trust me.

And the other was the way he looked at me. No matter what his voice implied, he met my eyes, steady and level. His gaze was even and calm, and he didn’t flinch or blink or back down, not even when my reply was hissed.

“Yes, but a ‘talk’ implies two people conversing.”

“Yes, it does.” At least he sounded a little flustered. If he expected me to just turn around and walk out, then he knew me even less well then I imagined he did.

“Good. My turn, then?” I asked, over his spluttering- he managed a snide- “By all means.” that had my hackles up all over again.

And I began. My voice started calm and even as I explained that I had no memory of who I was, where I was from, how old I was or even if I had been born. But this king, for all his faults-both Kings- had been so irreversibly a part of me from the moment I had laid eyes on them despite that. How Valor had manipulated and twisted that part of myself, had tried to use and force himself on it, and how I would never stand for that, because king was mine.

I think he missed a big part of th’ point, and honestly, I don’t think I coulda put it in a way he got, anyhow. That by doin’ what he did, it felt like he was trying to use me, control me. That because I felt so…so close to king, and King- well, fuck. This entire situation- can you blame me for bein’ caught on the raw?

I was bein’ judged from every side, watched and weighed and measured- I had at least two sections of people callin’ me by some fancy title, one of which seemed to think the sun and moon rose and set on me, th’ other that I was some bloodthirsty huntress. And the whole time, I felt like I was fightin’ a battle with myself, a war right on close to the vest.

And that was just scrapin’ the surface. I’d exploded, and I wasn’t near done explodin’, I’d just fallen into a lull.

Besides. Everyone and their cousin thought it was alright to use me. Us. When he started hurlin’ my name around, using me to manipulate King like he actually could, even if he could- well. That wasn’t alright, not in my book, never would be ‘less I said so.

But, at the same time, like I said, I gave him breathin’ room for fighting for what he believed in. Didn’t mean I had to like him, pompous ass he was, or that I had to like his methods, but he was fighting for what he believed, and there’s only so much of that you can hold against a person.

His not thinkin’ king was real, though- that didn’t set right with me, either. And I made it damn clear, loud and firm, that that wasn’t okay and never would be.

Anyway, after that, we found Myn. Phoenix, whatever you wanna call ’er. We finally found ’er, and she’d pretty much turned herself into a little mini-general with the goal of capturing Feng and brining him back to the Citadel.

Which was all well and good, ‘cept for we’d already gotten ourselves involved with a group of preists who didn’t want that, and on top of them, Delcova, who also had his own plans for the girl Amarissa who Feng still had with him.

And on top of all them, Damien showed up wanting Feng dead. That was a hell and itself, that fiasco. Found out a lot about myself from Damien, those days. I'll get into that in a bit.

We’d found him in a little city just a few miles from where Myn’s camp was- but not in the city. This place had a line where a ghost-spirit world litterally overlapped the real one, like waves of an ocean eating away at the sand on a beach. It crept and crawled it’s way into reality, and if you took just one step in the wrong direction, you went in over your head. We went there hopin’ to lure king- the not King, the not real one- in for Valor to try and capture and get his crystal from.

*Any blogs I have with us and Myn here.*


His roar shook the earth, and he was charging. I shifted around, ready to move- I knew, I already knew what I wanted, needed, was going to do -

-and a second, answering roar rattled my bones.

Identical.

I froze, and it was a damn good thing, because King, My King, The real flesh and blood, King, stood before me. He slammed into king with a force that would have snapped my neck, and the two locked together, in silent, silent, battle. Defending Damien. Defending me.

How can these two creatures be the same?

And then Valor was diving forward. He reached out and snagged the crystal from king’s chest, and his momentum kept him going. With a mighty heave, the crystal sprang free, and King, snarling, crushed the smokey remains of himself.

And just like that, it was over.

I felt like I was in a bog. Mentally, that is. I couldn’t no more move or speak then I coulda if someone’s been holdin’ me.

And before I could do anything, Ann was screaming Damien’s name and he was attacking King. I heard his name leave my own lips, too late. But it woke me up, f’r damn sure, and I was sprinting, putting myself between them with arms spread wide in the universal knock it the fuck off, boneheads! motion.

If it was clear who I was protectin’, well, ain’t my fault Damien went on the offensive.

…mostly.

“Move.” I’ve never heard his voice like that; if I was even a little threatened by him, I’d have squeaked and ducked out of the way in a heartbeat. It was as close to a growl as I had ever heard from him, through teeth gritted so hard they might crack.

“No.” I said back, calm and quiet. “He just saved your life.” And now I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice, a tight hiss of my own.

“He’s the one that started all of this-”

“No, he’s not! He just saved you. You might show a little gratitude. And if you’re going to be angry-be angry at the right person.” I finished, at last lowering my arms. I figured, I was still standin’ there, Damon wouldn’t be throwin’ mental take-downs at King.

Still, whatever I expected, it sure as fuck wasn’t for him to step in, take my face in his hands-

-and kiss me.

“Mmpfh!” My arms flailed, helplessly, utterly unsure, shocked, completely at a loss. I mean, I don’t remember kissing before, and even if I’d wanted it, I didn’t know where to put my hands, for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t want it so none of the places that I’m sure my hands woulda’ been supposed to go would really be appropriate, right there.

I don’t know if he thought maybe I’d somehow ‘member him, through his kissing me. Like something from a faerie tale- kiss the princess, she wakes up, and they live happily ever after. ‘Cept this ain’t a faerie tale and there ain’t a happily ever after, not here.

At last I found purchase on his shoulders, and I pushed away, gentle, firm. His face, when I did it, was devastated. I knew what I had to do, what needed to be said.

I’d not chosen him. Looking at him looking at me, touching my lips where his hand been only a moment before, dry and soft and warm, I realized something.

I’d not chosen him. And the…longing, that had been there…the pain…the sadness…the confusion…was gone. Just- gone. I didn’t feel the desire to love him, the way I had before. I didn’t feel the…the draw to him, I’d felt in the citadel.

I’d let him go. I’d actually, really, truly let him go. It was a weight on my shoulders and off them at the same time. I hadn’t stopped caring about him, as a person- he seemed good. Honestly good. Even if it was an act, that’s how it seemed; like he had a big, true heart, and he was, at his core, someone who deserved life and happiness.

But I’d taken a massive step. I’d…I’d given that necklace to Ann, and it seemed like, somehow, that had been the catalyst. I’d backed away from him and all he might have once meant to me. Because he’d never meant anything to me. Not in my memory. He was, essentially, a stranger. A stranger I wanted to be a friend, a companion, someone I liked and cared about and maybe, once, in another life…had loved. I could admit that, that once, I had loved him, cared for him, married him.

Once, I had been his wife.

A lifetime ago.

And he needed…he needed to let go, too. He had to let me go. Enough was enough, dammit. He was obsessive. I wasn’t his any more; if I ever had been.

I wasn’t his, and I’d let him go, and it was time he knew it. Knew it in it’s entirety. I knew what I was about to do would crush him; but the time for softness and tenderness was past. A girl’s life was on the line- a very important little girl. There was so much, so much bigger then me, and him, and what had or had not happened, and a few hurt feelings and broken hearts.

I knew what I needed to say, and I knew it wouldn’t necessarily go over well.

*Conversation here?*


As he slipped backwards, King folded over me. I was used to his hand on my shoulder- it had been there through this entire conversation- or his touch, but this…this was new. Like cradling something precious. I felt…safe, in this embrace. Oddly enough, I felt like I was giving him comfort, too; like he wasn’t just doing it to show possessiveness.

The worst of it is, now, I wish I’d pushed him away, too. Because as much as I hate the Other Me, she had a point recently.

I’ll have to choose again. Talron or King. I can’t have them both; and it breaks my heart, it kills me, but I know which one I’ll choose. I know who I will always choose, above everyone and everything else. I ain’t done a very good job of showing it, recently. I’ve been a pretty shitty friend, in fact, a pretty shitty example of someone who’s ‘sposed to love someone else.

I’ve done a pretty shitty job as a person in whole, but that don’t change the truth of it.

I will always choose him.

And I almost forgot that. Damn me and my foolish, stupid arrogance, I almost forgot that.

How could I ever forget that?

That’s what woke me up, out of everything that happened next. No matter what Meyonne said, or Ann, or nobody else, that is what made me snap out of the haze I had been in and wake up to what was happening to me.

But I’m getting’ ahead of myself.

Anyway, fact of the matter is eventually King left and so did we. We went to regroup with Min but got side-carded by the Queen's Men, not for the first time. We talked with them about everything that was goin' down and the whys and hows and exchanged the itty-bitty amount of information we had with each other. They're a pretty amazing group, these guys; totally devoted to their cause and so good they practically blind you with it. I expect one or the other of 'em to start shining any minute.

Somethin' in me answers that, you know? Seeing them, something in me just feels like a little girl, starin' in awe up at the big bad warrior she wants to be just like when she grows up. Nah, now, I know that's bull and it's stupid on top of it, but that don't stop my heart from beatin' a little faster when I'm around them- don't stop me from feelin' just a little stronger, a little more invisible, a little bolder. Somethin' wakes up and stirrs and sort of blinks sleepily in the light, before it gets shoved right back down because I ain't no hero.

We told these people about a group of three that had been working for Feng, hunting us. They'd already attacked us once and we'd sent them packing; all but the little vampire who'd been with them, who had his own agenda. Turned out he knew about them, and he said they were on their way to the city.

Would we care for a game of hide and seek?

We agreed almost instantly. There's almost no one in this world I want dead, but my grudge against these four goes past all reason (as you'll find out in just a minute.) I hate them. I hate them and I want them out of the world. There is something about them that makes my hair stand on end, something that makes me feel foul.

I hate them, and that's not somethin' I can say about a lot of people.

So we staked 'em out and stalked our prey. Ann crept off after a while of waiting and found 'em further down on the trail She said one of them wasn't right- something was wrong with him. Normally, this might have either worried me or made me pause, for a second. Now, though, all I saw was a weakness. An advantage.

That might've changed, if things had been different.