"He's on his way," Collette admitted to me as we lay comfortably in bed.  

    "Who?" I asked, fearing the answer, knowing I was right without needing to hear it. 

    "Friar Essex."  Her hand gripped mine tightly, not out of fear, but out of comfort.  "He is on his way to the town, and will probably be there in about two weeks.  He will come as a priest, of course, and move into the church.  He will do all that he can to usurp the townsfolk, gathering them to help fight us."

    Her including me was terrific.  "What will we do?"

    "I am sending Keith and his grandfather back to town.  They will hinder his efforts.  They have acclimated well to being here, and will prove useful in thwarting Friar Essex's work."  She slid closer to me and rested her head in the soft flesh of my arm, "we have a lot of work to do," she sighed.

    "When will you be sending them back?" I asked.

    "Tomorrow," she said, sounding defeated.  

    I climbed out of sunken bed and holding my hand to her, I helped her to her feet.  We padded naked across the floor where I knelt to turn on the water to the water on in the sunken tub.  No bubbles, Collette thought to me, we haven't the time."

    "Okay," I replied.

    No words, she directed me with her thoughts.  You need to practice using your thoughts, so I do not want you to speak when we are alone.  Use your mind as much as possible.  If you have problems, I will help you.  

    I understand, I thought back.  When the tub was full I reached to shut off the water, but stopped myself.  Use my mind, she had told me.  I concentrated, seeing the faucet in my head.  I willed the valve to turn and was delighted to see how easily it obeyed.  The water started again, Collette having willed the valve open.  Stop the water with your mind this time, do not turn the valve.

    I concentrated, seeing the valve in my mind.  I ignored the easy path as Collette had directed.  With my eyes shut I watched the water leave the spigot rapidly.  The water level was climbing, and I knew I had to hurry if I did not want to overflow the sunken bath and flood the floor.  Watching the water I concentrated, willing the water to stop.  I imagined a stopper rising up the flowing stream and plugging the end, cutting off the water flow.

    Very good, Collette thought to me.

    I opened my eyes.  The water had stopped with the control valve wide open.  There was no stopper on the spigot, of course, but the water had ceased flowing as if it were plugged.  I did it, I said, sounding surprised even in my own mind.   

    Yes, Collette said, you can will things to happen.  Concentrate.  Imagine what you want, and will it to be.  In time you can imagine greater things, making them happen.  You can will time to stop, as you can seen.  It takes time and it takes practice.  Now, shut the valve.  

    I turned the valve with my thoughts.

    Very good, she thought again.  That is perfect.  You have done well.  Collette climbed into the water.  Now, she thought, bathe me.  I stepped forward and her thoughts drifted to me, no, from there.  

    I understood again.  From my vantage point standing a few feet away, I concentrated.  Using my mind I pulled a wash cloth from the small table resting in the corner.  It floated across the room with my thoughts, drifting into the water.  I rang the wash cloth with my thoughts.  I began to bathe Collette, running the wet rag over her skin.  It was efficient but I found it was less enjoyable than running my hand over her skin.

    I know, she thought to me, but you need the practice.  

    I continued to bathe her, running the wash cloth over her skin, washing her body with the wet rag.  The rag ran with my mind from her feet to her neck.  Very slowly and cautiously I ran the cloth over face, washing her gentle features with the blue cloth.  I was staring at the washcloth, watching its progress as I guided it with my thoughts.  I was worried of accidentally poking her in the eye or getting soap in them, and as such I was cautious.

    You are doing well, she eased my fears.  

    I set the wash cloth aside, draping it gently next to the tub.  It does take some concentration, I admitted.

    It will get easier, she thought back.  Collette stood up and stepped out of the sunken tub.  She grabbed a towel and quickly dried her body.  Come, she thought to me walking naked toward the door of the bedroom.  We need to feed and then send Nathaniel and Keith back to town.  Friar Essex will find his task harder than he thought.  She smiled weakly.

    You don't want to send them back do you?

    No.  It is the best thing to do.  I wasn't, she paused, searching for the words.  Finally, it is too soon.  

    What is?

    Friar Essex coming here.  I knew he would eventually seek me out, that he would not be trapped in the walls of the church forever.  I actually think it is for the best, his hunt for vengeance will prevent him from harming a lot of people.  It is a good thing that he is coming and that we can fight him.  I am just surprised that it is now, and I am not used to being surprised.

    You expected it?  I asked with my thoughts.  How long have you expected it?

    Since the day I trapped him in the walls of that now leveled cathedral.  The church was built by the hand of man and therefore fallible.  In time I knew it would wither away, be torn down or neglected.  It was inevitable.  I felt it when he was released, it has less than a year.  That is what I feel is too soon; the fact that he is coming so soon after being freed.  His rage must be driving him, and for him to seek me out this soon after his freedom just illustrates that rage.

    Us, I thought to her.  He is seeking us out.  I smiled at her.

    She turned to look at me, yes, she thought, us.  Come, let us feed.  I followed Collette from the bedroom, the doors swinging open uncommanded.  She had explained the obedience of the castle and its origin, but seeing the castle bend its form to Collette's will still amazed me, the power she exuded, her will expressed in the motion of inanimate objects.  We turned left and walked the short distance to the dining room.

    Linus was eating a small bowl of scrambled eggs when the doors opened for us.  "Good morning, Linus," Collette said as we entered.  She had seen him sitting at the large table in her mind and had greeted him instantly.  "Please bare your throat, we need to feed."

    It was a command and he knew it.  He swallowed heavily and pulled the T-shirt he was wearing over his head.  He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling.  "I am ready," he said sounding scared.  

    Nathaniel, Brian, get in here, Collette called out with her mind.  I could hear the words in my head as clearly as if she had spoken aloud.  Good, her thoughts said to me.  She crossed the room, thinking to me, come, feed.  

    I acknowledged her with a thought and crossed the room. I stood on the right side of Linus, Collette on the left.  Together we bent forward to feed on his blood.  I sank my teeth into his neck, tasting the coppery flavor of his blood exploding over my tongue.  The taste was sweeter than any wine I had ever drunk, the flavor an intoxicating nectar the Gods called Ambrosia.  I had fed before, but never had it tasted so robust and flavorful.  It was as if the blood was the perfect mixture of fluids resulting in the perfect drink.  It was heavenly.

    It gets better, Collette thought to me and I was hard pressed to believe her words with the flavor dancing on my tongue.  

    We drank deeply, taking our fill of Linus' blood.  I could feel myself growing stronger as I savored the blood that filled my senses.  I pulled my mouth off of the warm throat of my host and thanked him with soft words, "thank you, Linus," I said to him, "that was amazing."

    "You're welcome," he said weakly.  

    Collette stood and crossed the room to take a seat at the head of the table.  "Linus," she said, "something substantial, please.  Please make some eggs with tomatoes for four of us.  We will eat it here."

    Linus climbed onto unsteady feet and replied, "yes, mistress."

    Collette and I sat in comfortable silence until Keith and Nathaniel entered.  "Have a seat," Collette directed, indicating the empty seats at the table.  Keith and Nathaniel obeyed, sitting quickly and sitting in rapt attention.  "I think you two can help me," she began.  "I will explain the situation and let you know my plan.  Okay?"

    Both Nathaniel and Keith agreed with a muted nod.

    "Centuries ago I fought a vampire," she explained, "he attacked me and I defeated him by trapping him within the walls of a beautiful cathedral.  He escaped when the building was destroyed and is on the way to the town that you two are from.  He will infiltrate the town by killing the preacher and assuming the role."

    They were looking at her, fascinated by the short explanation.  I could read their thoughts, wonder at how they could help, their imaginations running on what would happen when he did take over the town.  

    Collette continued, "I need to send you to town.  I need you to hinder his activities.  I know you will not be able to stop him completely.  However, any hindrance will help me greatly. Can you help?"

    Nathaniel spoke first, "is it wise to send us back.  The town knows you won, won't the residents be suspicious?"

    "Possibly, at first," Collette admitted, "I expect my assailant to arrive in just over a week, possibly two.  This will give you time to tell the story of how you weren't fitting in and how I let you go.  Then, when the vampire arrives, you can sew your discontent and express your distrust of him.  I will be in contact with you in your thoughts.  Just ask me any questions, or ask for my guidance, and I will help you with whatever you need.  Can you do this?"

    Keith spoke next, "I don't want to leave."

    Collette smiled, elated at the honesty in which he spoke.  I had to admit, the thought of leaving after being accepted did not sound appealing, "you won't be gone forever," she explained, "when he is defeated, you can come back.  I need this as an aid in the fight, not as a means to send you away."

    Satisfied with the answer, Keith said, "I want to help you any way I can."

    "As do I," Nathaniel agreed.

    Collette smiled, "good.  You should leave right after breakfast, get back before the sun goes down."

    As if on cue Linus emerged from the kitchen with four plates of scrambled eggs. The eggs were covered with freshly cut tomatoes.  Linus set a plate before each of us and hastened to retrieve some silverware for us.  We ate the eggs and I found the tomatoes to perfectly compliment the flavor of the eggs, it was a great match.  It was silent at the table as we ate, Keith and Nathaniel thinking of returning to town and Collette and I eavesdropping on their thoughts.

    Keith was thinking of how he could fight the vampire for Collette, how he would do all he can to vocally abject to the new priest arrival.  Nathaniel was thinking along more subtle lines, how he would discuss his concerns with others under the concealed cover of darkness.  

    Perfect, Collette thought, two different styles for the same fight.  She was smiling in elation.

    It isn't perfect, I thought to her.  

    No?

    Not quite.  If what you tell us is correct, this vampire will be very powerful.  It seems to me that he will know he is being thwarted and will be able to tell who is hindering his efforts.  Is there a way to hide their activities? I agree that they could help you by their efforts, but I feel that they would be placing themselves in jeopardy.  

    She was quiet for a moment, I have thought of that, she informed me with her thoughts.  I will be watching over them from here, and I will be helping them.  I should be able to hide them from his sight, to block their activities in a shroud.  He will see them physically, but their actions will be hidden from his gaze.  She turned her attention to both Nathaniel and Keith, "if it gets dangerous, contact me and I will come get you.  Understood?"

    In unison, "yes."  Keith added, "mistress," while Nathaniel said, "ma'am."

    I could see soft tears welling in Collette's brown eyes.  She was saddened to be sending them into the path of the approaching storm no matter how needed it was that she do so.  She pushed her empty plate away and stood slowly.  She crossed over to Keith and kissed him on his cheek, "remember, call for me if you need help."

    "I will," he said, standing to embrace her.

    They hugged for almost two minutes before Collette pushed away and crossed over to Nathaniel.  "Take care of him," she indicated his grandson, "I expect both of you back unharmed."

    It struck me that Collette was saying her good-byes; almost as if she was not expecting their return.  Here words were comforting, but the way she enveloped them in her arms, pulling them to her breast like a mother with a child, appeared more final than the words would indicate.  Did she suspect that they would not return? I wondered.  I knew she could read my thoughts and had heard the question, but she did not answer it.  I crossed the room and shaking their hands bid them a safe journey and good luck in their tasks.

    "Thank you," Keith said waiting for Collette to release his grandfather.  

    Collette stepped aside and I wished Nathaniel a safe journey, as I had Keith.  He thanked me, shaking my hand with strength hidden beyond his years.  Nathaniel watched Keith as he walked from the dining room into the hall.  He turned and looked at Collette. The look was as Collette's words were, like a finality, "I was wrong about you," he said, his head slightly bowed, "and I'm sorry."

    "Thank you," Collette said, drying her eyes with the palm of her hands.  She smiled weakly and waved, her wrist limp, "take care."

    Nathaniel turned and he and Keith spun to the left and walked away from us and towards the main door leading from the castle.  I could hear the drawbridge lowering to allow their departure.  A moment later the sound returned as the large, wooden span rose and returned to its normal position.  As easily as that they were gone.  

    I don't know, Collette finally answered my question.  I can not see the outcome of our confrontation with Friar Essex.  I know he is coming, and that he is heading to town. I can't see the foothold he gets on the town.  I know Keith and Nathaniel will hinder his efforts, but I can not tell by how much.  It will not be easy.  Her thoughts trailed off and she sighed in frustration.  Sometimes, she admitted, the not knowing is the hardest thing of all.

    She had been excited earlier about the not knowing, when the town had come, led by Nathaniel to hunt her down.  During that fight she was being hunted by mortals without the powers she possessed; this was different.  Now she was being actively hunted by another vampire with revenge bubbling in his black heart.  He was angry and bitter, hatred seething from him and he wanted vengeance.  The fight would not be easy and she knew it was possible for her to lose the fight.  It was this fact that prompted her discomfort.

    We will win, I thought to her.  I was not confident, her unease was as evident as mine was, but she smiled nonetheless. 

    Yes, she thought, I suppose we will.  She emphasized the word we and I felt a surge of confidence.  The inclusive tone of her thoughts resurged me with a feeling that we would be triumphant, no matter the disconcerting thoughts we currently held.  Collette grabbed her dirty plate and carried it into the kitchen and I followed suit; grabbing Keith's and Nathaniel's as well.  Linus was washing the dishes and we gave him the ones we had grabbed and he took them merrily.  He washed them and soon had the kitchen spotless.  

    Collette bade me to follow her and I did.  We turned into the greenhouse and she said, "read to me," as a thick, leather bound book appeared in her hand.

    I took the book from her hands, it was heavy and smelled vaguely of lilacs.  We relaxed on an expanse of grass and unsurprisingly a gentle wind kicked up to dance across our bodies and tussle our hair.  I flipped through the book and saw Collette's neat writing again.  It was more pages of a lengthy journal that had begun centuries ago.  

    Do you still keep a diary, I thought to her as she lowered her body against the ground, resting her head on my thigh.

    Yes.

    When do you have time to write? I asked her.

    Collette blinked.

    When do you have time to write? I asked her.  

    She giggled.  

    What's so funny?

    You, and suddenly she couldn't contain her mirth.  She rolled to her left, her check on my leg, and began to laugh uncontrollably.  

    What?  I was confused as to the cause of her merriment, though her laughter was a delightful sound.  It was the sound of the ocean waves cresting in the moonlight, the happy cooing of a new born child.  It was the freedom of an eagles flight and the color of eternity.  The sound was beautiful.  I enjoyed the sound of her musical laughter, but I could not pinpoint the cause.  

    I watched as she rolled on the grass and listened to her laugh.  She looked at me and blinked again.

     When do you have time to write? I asked her.

    She was laughing and I tilted my head in confusion.  What's so funny?  

    Her breasts heaved as she laughed until she began to cough.  Her body shook as her coughing escalated.  She took a few deep breaths and slowly her coughing fit slowed and then stopped.  That, she thought to me, then she began giggling.  That, she repeated and laughed a bit more.  "I can't," she said to me.

    What?  Then, "what?"

    She sat up and I smiled at her.  She looked beautiful.  Her face had a faint glow from her laughter and strands of grass was stuck in her dark hair.  Now, I thought to her, what is so funny?

    Breathing heavily she thought to me, her words broken by the soft laughter that remained, you, she repeated.  You are what is so funny.  

    How so? I asked, still perplexed.

    Do you realize, she paused, giggled, and continued, that you asked me three times when I have time to write?

    The blank look on my face turned into one or slowly dawning comprehension.  She wrote in her journal whenever she required.  Time was not a hindrance.  But a moment could pass and for her it could be enough time to write a novel.  She controlled time well enough to write at her leisure, when she desired, how she desired.  The power amazed me and I shook my head in amazement.  Wow, was all I could think, and she giggled.

    She had demonstrated her prowess of her control of time, causing me to repeat myself thrice.  The fact that I had not realized it and had gone on undaunted had caused her laughter to erupt and her face was glowing in happiness.  I smiled at her and was still shaking my head when I said simply, "oh."

    She giggled again, suppressed it, and then thought to me, read to me.

    Still sitting on the ground, Collette lowered her body to rest her head on my calves.  I rested the heavy tome in my lap just inches from her hair, stray blades of grass still decorating her scalp.  I opened the book and began to read.

* * * * *

    It's funny if you think about it.  For the last three weeks I have been pondering finding a replacement and today, as if willed by my unconscious thoughts, I met her.  She is an attractive woman with fiery red hair.  I first spotted her engaged in a heated argument over the cost of some produce from the market.  She had made a mistake in her calculations, but would not  succumb to the belittling man arguing with her.  She knew she had erred, but the belligerent tone of the shopkeeper had sent her hackles up.  Her spunk was delightful.

    To be honest, I guess, I have been thinking of finding my replacement for the last few years.  Odd how life gets repetitive after a few centuries.  I have seen so many changes come and go and it seems that each new advance is just a rehash of the things that have come before.  I don't know anybody anymore; it is impossible to maintain relationships with the living, knowing that they will be dead and gone and you will go on.  

    Yes, perhaps it is time.

    I listened in as she demanded an apology for the clerks rude attitude before she would make up the difference in her simple math error.  When her refused she pelted him with one of the ripe tomatoes sitting in a bin next to her.  The tomato stained his shirt and with a calm tone she demanded again that he apologize.

   Stunned by her actions, the shop keeper did apologize, his tone one of shock mingled with fear, "sor...sorry," he had stammered.

    "Very well," I heard her say, "here is your money."  She handed him the coins that made up the difference in her bill.

    I watched as she stormed away from the kiosk, her purchases gripped tightly in her hand.  I followed behind her, watching her as she walked briskly through the crowded streets of the city.  Her head was held high, pride evident in her strong features.  She turned into a crowd of people and for a brief moment I lost her.  Then she was standing next to me, her voice dripping in anger, though I could see that she was frightened, "why are you following me?"

    Why indeed?  We were standing next to a run down building, home to three peasant families.  Could I tell her?  Yes, I suppose I should.

    "To give you something," I said and her face contorted into a look of doubt, the fear still dancing in her eyes.  

    "Look," she said, grabbing my arm, spinning me to face her, "I don't know what you want, but I want no part of it.  Just leave me alone and stop following me.  Got it?"  Her voice was thick with her ire, her words contemptuous.

    I want to give you something, I thought, willing the words into her head.

    "What?" she asked weakly, her voice tight.  Her fear climbed, threatening to overwhelm her; the terror on her face escalated as my thoughts reached her.  "What is going on?"  Her voice was child-like, frail and soft, almost a whisper.  The feigned bravado of grabbing my arm not evident in her tone.  

    "I want to give you power," I said.  I did not want her terror to climb any higher, and so I spoke the words aloud, my voice gentle.  "I want to train you."

    "Why?"  

    "You are strong," I answered.  

    I could read her thoughts.  The denial of hearing my words in her mind was loud.  Not possible, she thought, I imagined it.  It isn't possible.  "Leave me alone," she said in that child voice.

    It is possible, I thought to her.  In her mind I planted a vision of her riding the wind, floating on a mist.  I showed her men kneeling at her feet, begging to do her bidding.  As she witnessed the thoughts I planted in her frightened mind, I could sense her doubt fading like the endless night giving way to morning.  "You can do this?" Her voice still held the hint of fear, but now interest was there as well, a tangible desire to have what was offered.

    Yes, I thought to her.  

    "You can talk to me in my head?" she said, sounding confused.  Her fear was dropping and she released my arm.  

    Yes, I thought to her.  And I can read your thoughts.  We can speak in this fashion and I will teach you how to communicate with others.  Will you come with me?

    Doubt clutched at her thoughts.  She debated if she should believe me, but the vision I had planted in her mind convinced her I was telling the truth.  Finally, "yes," she whispered with a slight nod of her head.

    Good, and I smiled.

    I led her away from the busy streets.  Her fingers were white knuckles as she gripped the basket that held her purchase from the market.  Her grip was tight and I could still detect the doubt and fear dancing just behind her eyes.  It's okay, I thought to her, trust me.

    She nodded weakly.

    We turned away from the crowded streets into an empty alleyway.  "Take my hand," I said, holding my arm out to her.

    Tentatively she raised her arm, paused, exhaled sharply and then before she could change her mind she grabbed my outstretched hand.  Together we faded into a mist and I carried us in the wind away from the town and into a deserted farmhouse miles away.  As quickly as we became the mist I resolidified our bodies.  

    "H...how?" she squeaked.

    "I will teach you," I said, my voice kind.  "You have much to learn.  I need to make sure you understand what it will cost you to accept my gifts.  Please," I indicated a small wooden table that dominated the room we were in.  

    She sat, keeping her eyes on me as I crossed the room to sit opposite her.

    I took a deep breath, exhaled, and slowly spoke, "I offer you immortality," I began.  I explained how I wanted her to be my replacement.  I told her how I would train her until her abilities surpassed my own and then it would be her responsibility to end my life.  I explained how we were immortals as far as most people were concerned.  However, I informed her, our lives could be taken by a stake through the heart.

    "So you are a vampire?" she asked, her eyes deep orbs of concentration.

    I nodded, "yes."

    She did not seem surprised or shocked by the idea.  Her voice, when she spoke, was surprisingly calm, "I suspected as much.  Is it easy?"

    I read the depths of her question, was it easy, she was asking, to live for centuries?  I could see her father sitting alone in his bedroom of their three room house.  He was rocking in a chair that squeaked loudly with each forward movement.  He was smoking a pipe and tell a tale to a young girl about a mouse that talked when you held some cheese for it.  She was giggling with the tale he was weaving and clapping her hands at the antics of the clever mouse.

    The scene in her mind shifted to the same young girl, four years later. She was wearing a black dress and stood, tear-faced, above a hole in the ground with a wooden casket resting within.  Her father had died and I could feel the remorse and loss she felt.  Her question spoke volumes, was it easy to give up the past for centuries of the future?

    "No," I replied honestly.  

    "Tell me?"

   How could I explain the anguish that runs rampant through your soul as you live to watch every person you have ever loved fade away and become a memory?   How could I relay the depth of despair you feel when you visit the graves of long-dead loved ones; staring at the cold marble stone?  Was it possible to express the loss, the darkness that is despair, colder than the blackness of space?

   The question reminded me of my parents and how they had let Robert into our home.  I recalled my mother's soft face and my father's warm hands.  Thinking of the past, Isabelle climbed into the forefront of my thoughts.  She has been dead for countless ages and yet thoughts of her still brings tears to my eyes.  I wrote before in my diary as a child about her death, the words simple.   I miss her more than words could express, I wrote then.  It's like a craving that you just can't sate, or a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, the feeling that she will walk up my driveway as she has done for years and ring the bell.  

    It is that feeling that remains, the felling that perhaps fate is just being cruel and that your loved ones will return from the grave as if they had never passed.  They never do, of course, just staying just out of reach of your conscious thoughts.  Could I explain the depth of that despair?  With words I could not.  "Let me show you," I said.  I held my hand to her, "take my hand."

    She stood from her chair and clasped my hand in hers.  

    Together we stood viewing a funeral.  A younger form of myself was standing, my face tear-streaked as I stared into an open grave.  A small casket was slowly being lowered into the cold ground as Isabelle's dead form was lowered into the earth.  The ground accepted her willingly, swallowing the coffin like a pill, hole and unbroken.

    The little girl I was fell to her knees and cried, her face in her hands.  

    We stood staring at my form as I cried into a pillow clutched to my breast.  My right hand caressed an old, worn doll that had at one time belonged to Isabelle.  We watched as I rocked back and forth, seeking comfort in the past.  "I miss you," I wailed, watching the tears fall like a stream down my much younger face.

    We were standing in a large chateau, staring at my form less than a century ago.  I was staring up at a stained-glass window adorned with colorful fish, "why," I cried softly, "why did you leave me?"  My voice was the same, the tears were the same, only the time had changed.  "Isabelle," I whimpered, "I'm sorry."

    Standing back in the small room the young woman with me once again took a seat, "what are you sorry for?"  There were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

    I ran my wrist over my eyes, "Isabelle's death," I said, my voice sounding frail and old, "she died because of me."

    "You?"

    I crossed the room and sat opposite the attractive woman that had so willingly accepted my invitation.  Her face was soft, concern and curiosity flashing in her blue eyes.   I nodded, "Isabelle and her family were killed by a vampire named Robert.  He had sought me out as his replacement, his offspring, you could say.  I had confessed so much to Isabelle that Robert felt she would somehow hinder my acceptance.  I did not know that he had done it," I paused.  "No, that's not exactly true.  I suspected.  It wasn't until years later when my training was complete and I found it difficult to end Robert's life that he confessed."

    The young woman nodded.  "And?"

    I took a deep breath, pausing briefly to gather my thoughts.  "When he confessed, admitting that he had killed Isabelle, he had taunted me with words.  'Her blood was so sweet,' he had said, urging me to strike.  'Her body so giving.'  The rage welled in my heart and I killed him.  I drove a wooden stake through his black heart so hard it shattered his spine.  I remember him staring up at me, blood dripping from his mouth as he whispered, "good bye."  His last word was, 'daughter.'

    "I had suspected the truth, but had denied it, willing the thought away as a hand dismisses a butterfly; a gesture and it was gone.  He admitted the truth to prompt me into action and I had completed the beginning of my legacy.  I replaced him as he had predicted; that was centuries ago."

    "And I am to replace you?"

    I nodded, "yes."

    "So I will have to kill you as you killed Robert?"

    Again I nodded, "yes."

    She held her hand to me, "it's a pleasure to meet you.  My name is Catalina."  She was smiling her acceptance.

    I took her hand, feeling the warmth of her blood coursing through her body.  "Collette," I greeted her.  "Are you ready to become?"

     She understood my meaning.  "Yes," she exhaled once.  Her eyes were fluttering, anticipating the pain and transcendence to come.  

    I stood up and held my hand to her, rise, I thought to her.  Hearing my voice in her mind she stood.  She was trembling.  She had accepted but fear of the unknown still clasped her heart.  Raise your throat to me, I bade her with my thoughts and she obeyed.  I stepped up and planted my mouth on her throat, my teeth penetrating her skin.  I could taste her life on my tongue and I shuddered in excitement.  I drank deep, pulling the very essence of her into my mouth.  I swallowed and felt her growing weaker.  Now, I thought to her, bite my throat.  Feed off of me.

    She had not fangs to puncture my skin and I winced in pain as her teeth tore my neck.  My blood seeped like a trickle of a brook from my neck and Catalina savored my dark blood.  She drank deep, each heavy swallow adding strength to her weakening form until the essence of my blood transformed her.  She pulled her mouth off of my throat and I release her.  "Wow," she said, "that was...."  Her voice trailed off, she was unsure how to describe the sensation.

    I read her thoughts.  I could sense her feeling of power, the feeling that she was invincible, able to take on the world.  Her body was changing, I could hear her heart slowing, taking on the agonizing pace of a vampire.  Her will grew stronger as the dominant tendencies I had first detected as I watched her interact with the produce seller emerge from her subconscious to take reins of her conscious thoughts.  

    How do you feel? I thought to her.

    Like I can take on the world.  

    I remember her answer so well, the confidence, the power in her thoughts.  Sadly, it was not enough to save her.  

    Behind her the door to the small building flew in off of its hinges.  Splintered wood clattered noisily as it slid with the force of an explosion across the wooden floor.  A tall man, his ashen skin shining in the flickering torch light leapt into the room, landing behind Catalina, just beyond my reach.  "So," he hissed, poison dripping in his tone, "you have found a replacement."  He stepped forward and grabbed Catalina, the nails of his right hand digging into the soft flesh of her throat.

    "Friar Essex!" I spat at him, "release her!"

    He shifted Catalina's head in his taloned hands and licked her cheek.  "A tasty morsel," he taunted.  Holding her in his tight grip he continued, his voice a taut string of hatred, "do you think I am going to let you die so easily?  Do you really believe I would allow you to choose how you meet your demise?"  He laughed, shaking his head.  "No, you will die as I choose.  I have chased you from one end of the earth to the other and you will not find your release that easily."  His words were contemptuous.

    "Release her!"  I shouted, my voice echoing in the small chamber.

    "Very well."

    I screamed as I watched him tear her throat open with his taloned hand.  Blood spilled from the wound, running down her skin to collect in a growing puddle at her throat.  He released her limp body and she fell lifeless to the dirty floor.  "As you requested."  He licked her blood off of his fingers, "yes," he commented dryly, "a tasty morsel indeed."

    I stepped forward my eyes twin orbs of hatred, "you will pay for that," I hissed.

    "Perhaps," he smiled a victorious grin, "in time.  However, I will not allow you to chose when and how you die.  When I allow it, you will suffer."

    A flash of light and he vanished, leaving me to wallow in hatred and denial.  I fell to my knees and held Catalina's lifeless body in my hands.  "I'm sorry," I whispered, rocking her dead form in my arms.  

    A thought came to me.  Could I reverse Friar Essex's intervention?  I shut my eyes, visualizing how I wanted things to be, willing time to revert to an earlier point.  My breathing escalated as I willed time to return.  I could feel my body growing weak, my will power waning.  I had never attempted such a feat, never have I tried to reverse the course of time. Was it possible? I wondered.

    I opened my eyes and found myself standing above Catalina's dead body.  I witnessed a bright flash of light as Friar Essex once again disappeared on a moonbeam.  It was a hollow victory, at best.  I had, I realized, willed time backwards.  The sad reality was that the small moment of time had drained me, I was not strong enough to will time as easily as sending my thoughts into another person's head.  The magnitude of the willpower to bend time was, at present, beneath me.  I knew I would have to learn to master the feat.

    Breathing heavily I fell to the hard wood floor.  I sat and stared at Catalina's lifeless body until I heard the roosters crow and the dark shack fill with light.  "I'm sorry," I said again.  She had almost become a vampire, only Friar Essex's attack had prevented my blood from taking hold and aiding her in maintaining her life.  He had to have been watching me, I realized; standing just out of reach, waiting for the time to attack.    He was clever, and I knew then I would have to deal with him cautiously.

    I sat there, motionless, as the day progressed.  I tried to understand why he had done it, could it be hatred for me alone that spurred his actions?  We had crossed paths before and would again.  He had not assaulted me directly, he was not ready for such a confrontation, he had simply attacked Catalina as I had begun her transformation into my replacement.  

    My replacement.  Again the desire to husk this immortal shell was strong in my thoughts.  Friar Essex had attacked immediately as I had chosen my successor.  He was not prepared to deal with me directly, but he wanted to obviously.  He had prevented me from creating my successor, his actions preventing me from yielding my life, such as it was.  I needed a replacement before I could give my life and that was taken from me.  

    He had guaranteed I would be around longer as I searched for another replacement.  But would I be able to train my replacement without Friar Essex from interfering in the act?  I doubted it.  I would need to rid myself of Friar Essex, I realized, before I would be able to settle into the task of death.  I knew he was watching, waiting in the shadows that conceal a man's heart, until I chose another to take my place.  Sitting there on the hard floor with Catalina's cold body lying inches away I realized I would need to grow stronger and confront Friar Essex before he was strong enough to confront me.

    I had felt the first glimmer of the power I would need to wield in order to defeat him.  The first stirring of the ability to control time.  I had indeed willed time backwards, and even though it was but for a moment, it comforted me.  I would retain my life and practice the most difficult tasks I could imagine until I was strong enough to confront Friar Essex.  Until he was defeated I would not be able to forgo my life.

    I stood up and bid Catalina goodbye.  "I'm sorry, Catalina.  I was unprepared.  I won't make that mistake again.  For showing me how unprepared I was I thank you.  I know it isn't a consolation, but I am sorry."  My eyes were moist as I exhaled and became a mist to be taken on a wind and whisked away.

* * * * *

    I shut the book and looked down at Collette resting between my slightly parted thighs.  Her head was resting on my chest and I noticed her eyes were damp with the memory of Catalina.  "How long ago was that?" I asked gently.

    "A long time," she replied weakly.  "Almost two hundred years."

    Was it the last time you searched for a replacement until me?  I thought the words to her, remembering her earlier directive to think when we were alone.

    No, she thought,  even her thoughts sounded heavy, I tried one other time... her thoughts trailed off.

     Is it written down?

     Yes.

     Can I read it?

    Not yet, she exhaled, sounding exhausted.  The light in the greenhouse was fading as the day progressed to night.  Another day closer to the inevitable confrontation with Friar Essex.  Collette was tired and suddenly I realized how exhausted I was.  It was like the weight of Collette's past was weighing down on my shoulders, and I suppose it was.  She had accepted me and now we were preparing for the final assault that would allow Collette to finally end her existence.  Together we would face Friar Essex and the thought of the upcoming fight was tiring.  

    Collette stood and pulled me to my feet.  I'm tired, she thought to me, let's go to bed.

    Sounds good, I said, stifling a yawn.

    Together we walked through the candlelit halls of the castle, found the bed, and drifted to sleep without another word.    

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