Roberto was deep into his research at Cian's bank of computers when Samantha appeared next

to him, setting down a bag full of groceries on the glass desktop. He quickly minimized the

screen. The petite blond was all about saving the environment and carried around the ugliest

bags, made from recycled materials, to do her shopping. Setting her hands on her hips, she

looked at the computer screen, then back at him as he gazed up at her with a blank expression on

his face.

“I'm making you and me dinner,” she declared and eyeballed the tiny button for the

minimized window. "Watcha doing?"

“Research for Cian,” Roberto answered truthfully but did not enlarge the window.

Samantha tossed back her shoulder-length hair and flopped onto the second computer chair

that Cian had bought just for her. She tended to lurk when he was on the computer. Bothered

with her hanging over his shoulder, Cian had bought a chair for her to sit in. Samantha reacted

like it was a sweet gesture, even if it was born out of annoyance. Cian was on the computer a lot

lately. He was taking another online course to get yet another degree. Without a doubt, Roberto's

master and Samantha's fiancé was an information whore. Or maybe he was just bored after being

alive for so long; Roberto wasn't sure which.

“You're hiding something,” she chided Roberto. "Cian does his own homework."

“Not homework. Business-related, ”Roberto answered with a charming smile.

“You do remember the part where I am the Executive Vice President of one of his companies,

right? "

“Of a company with ten people in it,” was his tart response.

“Oh, bosh. Semantics. " She exhaled dramatically, then continued in her Texas twang, “Well,

at least the title makes my parents happy. ” She leaned toward him, her cute little face looking so

innocent and fresh. "Watcha doing?" she asked again.

“I am certainly not telling you,” Roberto said firmly. He was used to this game and growing

more immune to her charms.

“I'm marrying him,” she reminded Roberto, wrinkling her nose.

"I know."

“And you're his best man friend servant thing. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other, ”

she declared with a bright smile. Slowly, she reached out for the mouse. As expected, Roberto

took hold of her wrist and smiled at her charmingly.

"No?"

“No,” he answered. "Secrets are sometimes necessary."

"You are so not fun when you keep secrets."

“I do keep secrets, which is why I have been with him for nearly a hundred years,” Roberto

said firmly and turned off the monitor for good measure. He crossed his arms firmly across his

chest and gave her a terse smile.

Looking toward the enclosed sleeping space Cian spent his days in, Samantha sighed. “A

hundred years. Do you ever wish he could be out during the day? "

“Yes,” Roberto answered simply.

"So you wouldn't have to deal with me?"

"Yes."

"I'm not that bad!" She waved a hand at him and kicked off her shoes.

Roberto tried not to think about the probability that her shoes were from a discount store.

Disgusting imitation leather. But Samantha tended to be cheap. She considered Dillards terribly

expensive and he suspected most of her work clothes were from Target. He plucked at his

Armani trousers and then settled back in the chair waiting for her to retire to the kitchen.

“You're very much you and that is sufficient,” he finally answered.

With a snort, she grabbed up the bags and padded barefoot to the state of the art kitchen. “I'm

making you some enchiladas with verde sauce. ”

“Sounds amazing,” he answered.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

“Me? Sarcastic? " Arching an eyebrow at her, he turned back to the screen.

She was now safely away from him among the teak wood cabinets and stainless steel of the

kitchen, so it was time to get back to work. Maximizing the screen, he returned to his

conversation with a bounty hunter that specialized in the supernatural. Ignoring Samantha's

muttering, he typed in a few short sentences, then watched the scroll.

“You know, we're going to be in each other's lives for a long time. You're going to have to

give in to my Texan charm eventually. " She stomped across the loft and into the bathroom on the

far side. It was the same old routine. He ignored her, she sulked. They were both devoted to Cian

and both were sure they knew what was good for him. Of course, they did not necessarily think

that the other one was good for him.

Sleazydino: THERE WAS A MURDER IN DALLAS AT A MOTEL. I'M ALREADY

SUSPECTING A FLEDGLING.

The bounty hunter always wrote in caps and Roberto wondered if he understood that in

Internet etiquette, it meant he was shouting. Probably not. Bounty hunters of supernatural

creatures were odd humans. They were separated from their own kind and obeyed their own

rules.

Roberto rubbed his chin before typing back and waited for an answer.

Sleazydino: THE MASTER OF DALLAS IS WAITING TO HEAR FROM HIS SPIES

AT THE CORONER'S OFFICE BEFORE ISSUING A BLOODHUNT. BUT THE

SECOND HE DOES, I'M ON IT.

“And it's not like I'm not nice to you,” Samantha barged back into the room wearing what

Roberto regarded as Austin hippy wear. A green, multi-layered skirt hung low on her hips and

swung down around her knees. A tank top, adorned with Bob Marley's face, hugged her small

breasts and fell to just above her navel. Her blond hair was twisted up into two little ponytails on

either side of her head. He was certain that it was very hard for the little blond firecracker to put

on her corporate attire. She could never wait to get it off.

“You're very nice,” he admitted and typed in a few more sentences, then waited.

Sleazydino: I'LL CONTACT CIAN IF I HAVE TO PASS INTO HIS TERRITORY. AS

FOR THE OTHER ONE, NO ONE WILL GO NEAR HIM. THERE IS NO WAY

ANYONE WOULD RISK THAT HIT.

Frowning slightly, Roberto began to type, then saw Samantha on her tiptoes peering down at

the screen. He minimized the window and looked up at her. "Yes?"

"Do you have an online girlfriend?" She raised her eyebrows.

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"Would that make you happy?"

She rolled her eyes and stomped off again.

Roberto opened the window and finished typing.

Sleazydino: I LOVE THE CHALLENGE BUT NO ONE EVER COMES BACK FROM

HUNTING HIM. I HAVE A WIFE AND KID NOW. IF YOU NEED THAT TAKEN

CARE OF, YOU'LL NEED TO GO TO SOMEONE ELSE.

With a sigh, Roberto typed in a few terse comments, then logged off. The summoner's power

was well known in the underworld. The damn creature walked through others' territories with

ease and without fear of reprisals. And if he was once more in the States and in Texas, that meant

Cian could possibly be in danger.

Samantha banged around in the kitchen, mumbling to herself as she waited for the slowly

sinking sun to make its final exit for the evening. Outside the massive windows of the loft, the

sky was a glorious mix of gold, purple and pink.

"Do you think you'll ever like me?" Samantha asked loudly.

“No,” Roberto answered truthfully. "But Cian loves you so that is enough for me." That was a

lie.

Frowning, she waved a knife covered in bits of onion at him. “I'm good for him. I make him

feel human. "

“But he's not human,” Roberto answered, and fixed his cuffs. It was an old argument.

“But he was human. It's at his core. ” She gave him a fierce look and turned on the radio.

With a weary sigh, Roberto stood and moved to the far end of the apartment. Cian kept an

extensive library of books and Roberto looked over them thoughtfully. How could Cian, a man

of such great wealth and intelligence, love such a simple, country bumpkin? She was hopelessly

lower middle class and annoying.

He caught sight of what he was looking for and pulled an old journal from the top shelf. It

was Cian's own recollection of The Summoner. It was time to reacquaint himself with the

creature they had not encountered in nearly forty years.

Outside the tall windows, the sun slipped behind the wooded hills and the last vestiges of the

purple and pink sunset lingered on the horizon.

There was a loud metallic sound, then the steady hum of a motor as the thick walls around

Cian's sleeping chamber rose into the ceiling above. Roberto didn't even look up as he heard the

quick, steady footfalls of Samantha running across the long loft to throw herself into Cian's arms.

Her laughter and their soft voices made him scowl even more. Snapping the book shut, he calmly

ascended the spiral staircase to the floor above, grateful that Cian had two of the lofts remodeled

as one.

It gave him a safe place away from the annoying lovers.

* * *

Reaching Austin had been a huge relief. Amaliya had made it just an hour before sunrise.

Seeing the familiar landmarks of the city had made her feel more hopeful than she had in a long

while.

Austin was still suffering growing pains as it evolved from a college town to a full-blown city.

The capital city of Texas was finally stepping fully into its role. The downtown was growing

rapidly with new high rises being built and the suburbs and surrounding towns were expanding

rapidly. Its high tech industries were still a huge draw to countless people looking not only for a

good place to live but a high paying job. And yet, it was still a music capital, college town, and

magnet for the artistic and wild at heart.

As she had driven past the University of Texas, she had felt a pang of remorse, remembering

her short time there as a student. If any time in her life had actually seemed good, it was the year

she had spent in Austin attending the university.

She loved Austin and the old landmarks welcomed her. The UT Tower was illuminated

orange and the dome of the Capitol Building glowed white in the darkness.

Just as early morning traffic had started up, she had found a hotel near downtown and paid for

three nights in advance. As before, she duct taped the curtains to the wall, then hung another

blanket over it. This time she remembered the sunlight creeping in under the door and laid a

rolled up towel up against the bottom of it.

She slept soundly and without interruption.

Tonight, when she had woken up, she had known she needed to feed soon. Her heart was

beating sluggishly and she felt the growing need in the core of her. Rolling out of bed, she had

wandered past the covered mirror into the bathroom for a shower. Staring at the toilet, she

realized she hadn't used one in days. With a shrug, she closed it and sat down on the cold lid,

contemplating her plans for the night.

Get something...err...someone to eat.

Go to the Goth club.

Find a vampire.

See, Sergio, she thought. I can make a plan.

After a quick shower, she found a black skirt with a skeleton dancing down the side of it

buried at the bottom of her bag. It had a cool look: as if it strips of cloth had been sewn together

just randomly. The skeleton glittered on it with a big grin and she loved it. A black lace tank top,

black bra, and her high-heeled Mary Janes seemed like a good combo for a goth club. People

mistook her for goth anyway with her raven black hair and fetish for black clothing and nail

polish. Normal people never knew the difference between all the subcultures anyway.

Dressing quickly, she decided to try to put on makeup. She immediately realized it would not

be an easy task. The mascara was relatively easy, but the eyeliner was a total bitch. She hoped it

looked okay because it felt wrong. Trying to figure out how much of her rose blush was too

much was another challenge. Staring into the empty compacts was very disconcerting and she

finally tossed the makeup back into her bag and tucked her money into her bra.

After pulling the furniture away from the door, she let herself out of the hotel room and

headed to her car. There were actually quite a lot of people in the parking lot. A lot of them were

young people that were probably in town for a concert or just to party. Walking to the Lincoln,

she pulled out her lipstick from between her breasts and soon her lips were bright red. Tucking

the tube back in her bra, she unlocked her car and got in.

Traffic to downtown Austin was picking up as people headed out to Austin's famous 6th

Street to party away Hump Day. She knew from the past that the clubs had all sorts of specials

throughout the week to keep people coming out even if they did have work in the morning. It

would not be as crazy as it was Friday and Saturday night when the clubs and bars on both 6th

Street and Warehouse District were overwhelmed by throngs of people heading out for fun.

She also knew from experience exactly where the Goth club, Elysium, was. She had hung out

there a few times, when she was in college, with a few friends that skirted between all the

alternative scenes. Pulling into a parking lot a block from the club, she waited for the guy in the

wheelchair to come over. Once she paid, he would hand her the slip of paper to put on her

dashboard that would keep her car from being towed. He had a fistful of money and handed her

the pink slip with a smile. Smiling back, she tucked it into a visible place on the dashboard and

then slid out of the car.

"Busy tonight?"

“Not like Saturday. That's five dollars, ”he answered.

She fished a twenty out of her bra and handed it to him. Nonplussed by this, he counted out

her change and handed it to her. “Be careful.”

“Will do,” she assured him and walked up the cracked sidewalk toward the club. Elysium sat

on the corner a block from 6th Street and was painted entirely black. Ignoring the comments

from the guys lurking outside the Salvation Army homeless shelter, she straightened her

shoulders and prepared herself.

Maybe it was a cliché, but the only place she could think of to find a vampire was the Goth

club. It just seemed like a place an undead fucker would hang out. Of course, she could be

horribly wrong and he could be up at the cowboy club on Burnet street, but Elysium seemed like

a good place to start.

When she reached the large imposing bouncer sitting on his stool outside the club, she gave

him a fierce look, and said, “I'm over twenty-one.”

“Let me see your license,” he answered.

Shit.

Her powers weren't working. And she was getting hungrier.

Sighing, she fished it out of her bra and handed it to him. She was terrified he would

recognize her as the girl who was missing from the supposed Satanic massacre. He glanced at it

and handed it back to her with a bored look on his face. She scurried inside as soon as he tagged

her with a wristband of orange florescent yuckiness and paid a pretty girl behind the counter to

enter the club.

It seemed to be a slow night with only a few people out. Glancing to her left, as she walked

toward the bar, she saw a few people dancing very slowly to Siouxsie and the Banshees. One

tiny black girl with black braids seemed especially captivated by the music and it made Amaliya

feel a pang of jealousy. She wished she could just dance the night away and not give a damn

about what was going on in her life. But she had other things to do. She had to find out what was

going on with her one way or the other.

Then she saw him. A man with long flowing red-blond hair and a reddish goatee leaning

against the bar. He was wearing a red frock coat and black leather pants tucked into boots with

pointy toes. His black poet shirt was dripping with lace and he even wore a jaunty hat that looked

like something the Three Musketeers would have worn. His long nails were painted black and he

had red tinted glasses on. Walking up to the bar, she took the stool next to him and sat waiting

for him to talk to her. She was not the prettiest girl in the world, but she could get attention when

she wanted it.

Crossing her legs, she flashed a length of muscled leg and her tattoo of hearts and roses

wrapped around her ankle. The man in the old-fashioned garb was deep in conversation with a

guy with a simply stunning blue mohawk. Pouting slightly, she reached for the guy's pack of

cigarettes and lighter.

"May I?"

He became aware of her and swung around. “Oh, my lady, of course. Allow me. ” He quickly

handed her a black clove cigarette and lit it with a flourish. "I did not mean to be so rude."

She smiled at him coyly and took a deep drag on the cigarette. It tasted better than she

expected. "Thank you."

The bartender appeared. "So, what will you have?"

“A glass of red wine and whatever the lady wants,” the man answered.

Amaliya now realized he was younger than she originally thought. Maybe mid-twenties. He

was dripping in jewelry, including what looked like a garnet encrusted ankh.

“I'll have a shot of vodka,” she answered.

The bartender nodded and spun away to quickly get their drinks.

“I'm Lord Carfax, my dear lady,” he said and swept his hat off his head to bow to her.

“I'm Liya,” she answered and wondered what his real name was.

“Charmed to meet you.” He took her hand and kissed it.

Amused, Amaliya tried to figure out if his hand was cool because he was nervous or if he was

a vampire.

“Nice to meet you Carfax,” she answered with a sly smile.

Behind her, more people came in and the music switched to Sisters of Mercy.

“It must be an oldies night, huh? Eighties or something?”

"Oh, it is the retro-goth night." Lord Carfax quickly paid for their drinks as they arrived.

“Ah, I don't know much about Goth. Sorry. "

"You're not Goth?" Lord Carfax looked a little shocked. “But your clothes! Your hair! ”

“I'm pretty much a rocker chick. I usually hang with the metalheads, ”she confided.

"I see." He looked a little disappointed but tapped the edge of his wine glass against her shot

glass anyway. "Well, at least you came here and I was able to meet you and enjoy your beauty."

Giving him a bemused look, she downed her vodka and enjoyed the burn all the way down.

“Thanks. I just felt like getting out and meeting people, ”she said to him after a beat.

“Oh, I am so glad you did. You are by far the most lovely woman in the club. Delectable. " He

grinned and licked a fang.

She blinked slowly. She wasn't sure if they were real or not. If they were fake, they were a

masterpiece of craftsmanship. "Nice teeth."

"The better to bite you." Lord Carfax chuckled and sipped more of his wine.

"So you fancy yourself a vampire?"

“My lady, I am a vampire,” he responded and pretended to take a little bite out of her neck.

She could hear his teeth chink together, then he drew away smiling.

"Ah, I see."

“I do enjoy an occasional bite,” he confided. “And you do look tasty.”

Arching an eyebrow, she looked at his clothing, then back into his face. She could see now

that he was wearing base and a bit of powder. “So ... if you're a vampire, why are you dressed like

you are? Wouldn't you want to blend in so you could get your prey? "

“Oh, no, dear lady, I want to embrace the time period from which I came. And by coming to

this club, I can. Besides, I am a seducer, not a monster. I am a hunter of lovely throats and

delicate limbs. "

She lifted her other eyebrow and motioned for another shot. “I see. So, vampires like to hang

out in old-fashioned clothes in Goth bars and pick up women for blood? "

“I'm sure your blood must be the most divine elixir,” Lord Carfax purred leaning toward her.

A short laugh next to her drew Amaliya's gaze to a man next to her. He wasn't any taller than

her, five foot seven possibly, and he had short brownish hair that was a little on the messy side.

Dressed in black jeans and a dress shirt that wasn't tucked in, he looked obscenely normal

compared to Lord Carfax. He was drinking what smelled like Jack Daniels and his keen hazel

eyes regarded her with bemusement.

“Hey, he thinks my blood should taste good,” she said and re-crossed her legs.

“I just don't think a real vampire would be dressed like that and hitting on you, that's all,” the

man answered her, and sipped more of his drink.

"So what would a real vampire be doing?" she asked him. She leaned her elbows on the bar

and gaze at him curiously.

Lord Carfax skirted around her, realizing he had lost her attention. “Telling you of your great

beauty and desiring to see you under the stars. ”

“That's a good one,” the other man said. He paid for Amaliya's new shot of vodka.

Giving him a silent salute, Amaliya downed it and smiled. "He speaks pretty."

“He speaks rubbish,” the newcomer said and winked. He really didn't look like the sort that

would hang out in a Goth club, but then again, she wasn't really sure what Goth was anyway.

“Look here,” Lord Carfax said in a voice that didn't sound so European and cultured now. “I

am having a conversation with her and you need to fuck off. "

"Why don't you take your fake fangs and bugger off?" The man had a light Irish inflection to

his voice.

Amaliya arched both eyebrows and signaled for another drink. She turned around on her stool

so she could lean back against the bar, her elbows propped up on it. It made her cleavage and

legs look outstanding.

Lord Carfax frowned deeply and appealed to Amaliya with his eyes. “Please, my lady, let us

retire to a table where we can be free of this insolent peasant. ”

A light touch on her arm drew her attention to the newcomer with the pretty hazel eyes. He

lightly drew his finger across her skin and gave her the most alluring look. Her skin tingled

where he had touched her and she smiled as she made up her mind.

“Um, I'd rather stay with the peasant,” Amaliya answered and swung around to put her back

to the vampire wannabe. The fangs were fake, as was the accent, and she felt bitterly

disappointed. At least she could spend a few minutes flirting with the new guy. He might be

good to eat. She was getting hungrier.

An angry snort was followed by a tirade of swear words, and then the frock-coated man

stomped off.

“He was amusing,” Amaliya said and gulped her new shot.

Again, the drink was paid for by the young man sitting next to her. He tucked his money clip

away in his jeans and picked up his new drink. “He's a real bloodletter. He hurt a girl pretty bad a

few months ago, but she didn't press charges. "

"Seriously?" She looked over at Carfax. "Takes the vampire stuff too seriously, huh?"

"Not all vampire aficionado are bloodletters, but he is." The man shrugged. “We don't care

much for each other. "

“Well, he does try awfully hard,” Amaliya decided. "I bet some girls fall for it."

“That's why he doesn't like me. I've stopped him on more than one occasion. ”

"He's what gives Goths a bad name."

"I don't care much for stereotypes anyway." He graced her with a slight smile.

“Thanks for rescuing me. I'm Liya, by the way. " She extended her hand to him and was glad

she had painted her nails.

He took it briefly and his skin was slightly cool to her touch. "Cian."

“Huh? Key Inn? What? ”

“Cian. It's Irish. ”

“Oh,” she blushed slightly. "Nice name."

"What are you doing in Austin?" he asked softly.

“I'm visiting. Having fun. Wait. How did you know- "

"I haven't seen you here before." His gaze was steady as he took in her features and seemed to

be reading her very thoughts. “I figured you just moved here or are passing through. Which is

it? "

“I don't know yet,” she said vaguely. She felt uneasy. Great. She had probably gotten rid of

the wannabe vampire boy just to deal with a serial killer man. "I'm figuring it out as I go along."

"Really?"

He was definitely giving her the chills now. She nodded. “Yes, I am. Anyway, nice meeting

you, Cian. Maybe I'll see you around. ”

Sliding off her chair, she headed across the club as quickly as she could without giving herself

away as a vampire. She was almost to the door when it dawned on her that she had nothing to

fear. She could drain Cian dry and he couldn't stop her. Maybe it was good if he did follow her.

She was getting a lot hungrier.

Stepping outside, she was hit by a blast of balmy air. She walked casually down the street

hoping Cian would follow. If she remembered correctly, there was an alley nearby. She could

duck down there and lure him after her if he was really going to give pursuit. Of course, the

homeless would probably be tucked into the back doorways of the clubs. Maybe she could snag

one of them if he didn't follow. She was getting hungry enough not to care if the person was dirty

or smelly.

Turning the corner, she strolled toward I-35. Sensing she was being followed, she turned to

see Cian on the sidewalk about ten feet behind her. Fighting down her unreasonable fear, she cut

across the street and moved toward a more shadowed area. She could overtake him in the

darkness, feed, and be done with this terrible need. Despite all the noise from the surrounding

clubs and the nearby interstate, she could hear his footsteps behind her.

She was behind a small parking lot near a gas station when he caught up to her and grabbed

her arm. Startled at his strength, she cried out as he pulled her close.

“You're in my territory,” he hissed at her.

"Fuck off!" she snapped and tried to break away. To her surprise, she could not. His hold on

her was firm.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Slowly, it dawned on her what was really going on. As her long black hair rippled across her

features, she truly looked at him. He was handsome in a very Celtic sort of way, but there was

something subtly inhuman about him. His eyes flashed red as she stared at them.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

"Who are you?"

“Amaliya Vezorak,” she responded in a trembling voice. He was what she was. She had found

one of her own kind and now she was terrified.

His eyebrows rose slowly. “One of the missing girls from the college campus,” he said softly,

more to himself than to her.

"More like running away and hiding girl from the college campus."

Cian studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “I understand.”

Then he hit her so hard, her head snapped back, and her body went limp.