By L. Crystal Michallet-Romero

Disclaimers: None needed. This is an original piece written by me back in the middle 80’s, and since revised for 2004. Since reworking this little tale, I have signed a contract with Limitless Dare 2 Dream Publishing (http://www.limitlessd2d.net/) and look forward to turning the entire tale over to them as soon it is completely edited.
Rated: NC-17, not intended, or suitable for children.
Violence: Yep, there is some vampire revenge in this chapter.

Sexual Content: There is a heterosexual, bisexual as well as lesbian scenes hinted at in this chapter.

Sexual Violence: None in this chapter.

Vampire Violence: Yep, vampire’s can be just as angry at each other as we mortals.

Subtext:  Of course.

All feedback welcomed at: CrystalMichallet@aol.com

Crystal’s web site at: http: //www.charani.org/XenaFanFicMichallet.html

V. Tamara

Tamara believed that vampires were inherently good. She did not think, as some have written, that immortals were soulless creatures that wandered through the darkness stalking their prey. Nor did she feel they were a part of the devil’s henchmen mainly because she did not believe in a devil, or heaven or hell. Instead she held to the conviction that within every nightwalker was the heart of a compassionate soul. True, they did require blood for survival, but human blood was not the only source of sustenance. Vampires were quite capable of surviving for many years on the blood of other animals, as she had done. Once an immortal acknowledged the goodness within then it would flourish.

This is how Tamara felt about Aurore. There was never a doubt in her mind that somewhere within the young immortal was a good heart. Tamara used to watch the child when she was mortal. She could not have explained her attraction to the girl except to say that there was a certain sparkle within the child. It was a charisma that was noticed by all. Aurore was like a shinning light, and every person who came to know the girl wanted to be around her. Not immune to her light, the African woman was always near the child, and this was the reason she had chosen to leave the hospitality of her friend’s abode.

The stately woman knew that her own attraction to the then twelve-year-old girl was growing every day but could not explain it. Tamara had spent many days meditating on the lure of the girl, all to no avail. Never before had she found herself so physically attracted to another, either mortal or immortal, and this feeling concerned her. Rather than act out her immoral desires with a mere child and jeopardize the long friendship she had with Madame Tuscany, Tamara chose to return to her travels of the world.

For five years Tamara traveled the world. She spent her nights in studies and meditation. Occasionally she found other vampire clans to spend time with. A few of the vampires she had cared for enough to make love with, but none had ever captured her heart like the mortal child Aurore. During one of her journeys she felt a deep foreboding fear and instantly knew that something was wrong with the mortal. Leaving everything behind, she began to make her way back to San Madrone and the little girl she once knew. Halfway toward her destination she received a message of Aurore’s illness and hoped that she would not be too late. Thankfully she had arrived in time to sit next to the girl’s bed. The medicine did little to ease Aurore’s suffering and her pale, sweaty features were constantly screwed up in pain.

"T-Tamara," the girl’s weak voice called to her.

"Yes Aurore, I’m here," the black woman spoke softly as she held the girl’s hand.

"Y-You left me," the accusation cut deeply into the vampire’s heart. "W-Why did you leave?"

"Aurore.…" Tamara found it hard to explain the depth of her love. While a part of her mind told her it was wrong to love a child, another part refused to fight the urges. With a sad smile the tall African sighed deeply as she turned away from the girl’s dying form.

"Y-You love me, don’t you?" the weakness sounded in every word that Aurore spoke. The gentle grip of her hand told Tamara that her strength was dwindling. Speechless, the African could only smile as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"More than I think even you know," the black woman spoke softly to the girl, her fingertips lightly brushing away the teen’s pain. She reached within her powers and took as much of the mortal’s pain that she could as her own. The combination of her touch and words brought a smile to the girl who was suffering terribly.

"I love you too, Tamara. I’ve missed you," the dull whisper was almost hard to hear.

If anyone had asked her, Tamara was certain that she would have initiated Aurore on that very night. Despite the strict rules that she lived by, and the followed guidelines regarding who could or could not be initiated into the dark side, the African woman would have set it all aside for the sake of this single human. Yes, she was fully aware that no human in her order was ever taken at such a young age. Sixteen was certainly old enough to be a bearer of children, but not to live in the world of the immortals. To be an immortal one had to be both physically and mentally ready to face the challenges ahead. Initiating someone who was too old, as Madame Tuscany had been, was far too cruel. Yet taking a mortal who was too young and had yet to form their full mental capabilities was only asking for trouble. But if anyone had queried her on that fateful day, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have brought Aurore over rather than see her die a slow and painful death.

The option of bringing over Aurore was never given to Tamara. Although she knew that there was some turmoil occurring with the mortals, she did not pay attention. Instead, she stayed by the girl’s side day and night holding her hand, administering the medicine that would take away the pain and cleaning the girl whenever she soiled herself. Occasionally when Aurore was out of her drugged stupor, she asked Tamara to hold her close and tell her stories, and the African woman freely complied. Most of the time she would lay on her back with the mortal wrapped in her arms. Sometimes Tamara would stretch out beside the girl, the smaller, frail body holding her close. At times like this Tamara would listen closely to the human heartbeat, afraid that at any moment it would stop. But it never did. Instead, it continued to beat even as the cancer ate the most precious person that Tamara had ever known.

As she remembered that time from long ago, Tamara brushed away an errant tear and heard a snickering laugh next to her. When she glanced up in the darkened hallway she caught the smirk on Shannon’s face. Before a single word could come from his lips she was on him, her grip firm around his neck as she called upon all of her immortal powers. "Mark my words, man-child, I put up with you for only one reason," Tamara hissed close to his face, as her lips snarled to reveal her sharp vampire teeth.

"Careful," Shannon gasped as he tried in vain to pry her fingers loose, "A vampire can not kill a vampire." Even as a captive, his wry sense of humor rose to the fore. Tamara thought about his words for only a moment before her grip tightened as she slammed him harder against the wall.

"Man-child, what would you, a young pup, know of such things? I lived the days when vampires killed vampires. I saw the earth covered with the ashes of our kind. Oh yes, boy, I’ve seen what it is like to kill our kind," Tamara’s words grew low and menacing. "Do not think for one minute that I am above reliving those days."

Shannon’s eyes grew big as her threat registered. When she squeezed her grip tighter, Tamara watched in fascination as his skin began to turn a ruddy shade of blue. With each passing moment a silent glee entered her soul. She heard the clock ticking in the distance, the voices behind the closed door were a muffled rumble, and then the shout of Madame Tuscany rose in the air. Tamara instantly dropped Shannon and turned toward the closed door. The sound of his gasping barely registered as she turned to Fernando.

"Lock him up in a secure place," Tamara ordered and then took two long strides toward the closed door. The minute she opened it, she looked around the now quiet room. When she saw the aged matriarch sitting on the floor, her shoulders heaving, she ran to the woman.

"Grandmother, Madame Tuscany are you well?" Tamara asked as she reached out and touched the woman’s cold forehead. She quickly glanced around the empty room in search of Aurore.

"My hija," the old woman moaned as Tamara helped her to her feet. "My poor hija," the clan matriarch mumbled, a dazed and confused expression on her face.

"Madame, where is…?" Tamara grew silent when she saw the look of pain in the aged woman’s brown eyes.

"She…is gone," the grande dame spoke softly as her eyes were in a fogged haze.

Tamara helped Madame Tuscany to the sofa, then looked around the study and found a soft blanket. She took it and covered the clan matriarch. When a noise was heard behind her she turned and saw the look of concern on the mortal servant’s features.

"Magdalena, please, bring something for grandmother to drink," Tamara ordered softly, and then returned her attention back to the old woman.

"Tamara, I was wrong, so wrong," the strangled cry escaped the older woman’s lips.

"I don’t understand," the African spoke softly as she moved to cradle the small, frail body in her arms.

"You warned me long ago that Aurore was too young. Do you remember?" the old woman looked at her imploringly. "I do," Madame Tuscany nodded. "I remembered you said that Aurore was too young to bring over, that her mind was not yet mature."

Tamara grimaced at this reminder as she closed her eyes to that conversation from long ago. With a shake of her head, she sighed deeply as she wrapped a protective arm around the old woman’s bony shoulders.

At the stark reminder of her own words, the African shook her head. "I-I was wrong, grandmother. I was just afraid. You were right to do what you did. If you had not, I would have done it myself," Tamara spoke solemnly as she looked at the open patio door.

Madame Tuscany did not even have to mention what transpired between her and her granddaughter. From the slight sounds that she heard in the hallway and disheveled look of the grande dame, Tamara knew that a fight had ensued. Although unhurt the older woman was shaken up, and Aurore was nowhere to be found.

"No, Tamara, you were not wrong. I was the one who erred in bringing over my hija," the elder shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks. "She was not ready. Her mind was not prepared for such a life, and I foolishly brought her over anyway."

"Shush, Grandmother, it will be well. All will be well," Tamara spoke softly as she held the small woman close. Her fingers tenderly brushed through the woman’s thin, graying hair. She felt the elder’s grief as keenly as if it were her own. The guilt of bringing Aurore over weighed heavily on the African’s shoulders because although she had not been the one to do it, she knew deep down inside that, if asked, she would not have hesitated. For Tamara, it was an automatic response to warn against initiating one as young as Aurore. Despite this she knew that she would have initiated the girl into their dark world because, in her own way, she felt that Aurore was her heart and soul.

As the African woman comforted the clan matriarch, she thought to that time from long ago. Even when she had left Aurore for nearly a decade, after the teen was initiated and they had become lovers, Tamara never stopped thinking about her. Throughout her travels, her mind always returned to the sweet innocent girl she once knew. Everyday she wondered how Aurore was doing and if she was all right. A part of Tamara even held guilt for leaving her lover in the hands of that despicable man, but at the time she felt that she had no other choice.

Initially when Aurore became a vampire, it was just the two of them and their lives seemed perfect. As an immortal there were a great many lessons that Aurore needed to learn. Since Madame Tuscany was too old to teach many of the lessons, Tamara stepped in to tutor the young vampire about how to live in the night. Tamara had first been her friend and then her mentor. Being so close, it felt natural when they later became lovers. Just as she had taught the teen how to survive, Tamara taught her how to make love to a woman. In time their love seemed as natural as the air that surrounded them. True, the African had to become accustomed to the looks of those nearby who saw her with a mere teenager. Soon even those suspicious looks did not bother her and what only mattered was their shared love. But this quickly changed.

Tamara was not certain when Aurore began to grow restless. All she knew was that the teen longed to make love with others. Aurore yearned to venture out to find other women, and Tamara gave her the freedom she needed. Each time the teen made love to another woman, the African waited patiently in the mansion. When the girl returned home with the scent of another upon her, Tamara would lovingly bathe her and then reclaim her as her own. For a while this arrangement was satisfactory until the arrival of the young immortal man.

The tall African had seen men like Shannon before. Young and pretentious, he was overconfident in his own wiles. He swaggered around the home as if he were a prince waiting to be crowned king. Although Tamara wasn’t fooled by his flattery, Aurore fell for him deeply. Despite her words of caution, the young vampire took the newcomer to her bed, and this was when Tamara knew that she was losing her lover.

Initially, the African woman brushed off her feelings as petty jealousy. She tried to persuade herself that Shannon was like the numerous women whom Aurore had bedded. He was only a plaything, something of which the teen would grow weary. But Tamara should have known when she was invited into their love play that this was no ordinary amusement for Aurore. At first the black woman kept away from the two lovers. But when she realized that the teen was spending more time with Shannon than with her, she soon accepted their invitation.

Making love with more than one person was nothing new to Tamara. When she was a new initiate, their order often held large gatherings that would result in massive orgies. On smaller scales, the African woman was accustomed to making love with two or three partners at a time, so joining Aurore and Shannon meant little to her. Once she began to join them, Tamara was soon grateful for her decision. Never before had she thought her little bird would want to experience pain during her sex. But with Shannon it seemed that this was the only way that Aurore received her pleasure.

Even as Aurore’s sexual appetite metamorphosed into something that Tamara had not expected, her personality began to change. It had not happened overnight, but it gradually changed. One moment the teen was that sweet child that Tamara remembered, and the next moment she had become a vampire who took pleasure from another creature’s pain. Aurore had become like Shannon, a fiend who was only seeking out the next soul to torture.

Tamara tried to reason with Aurore. From reasoning, to cajoling and even ordering, nothing worked to change the teen back to the sweet girl she once was. No matter how hard she tried to impart the need for compassion to the girl, everything Tamara said made Aurore angry. On the final day when she gave the girl an ultimatum she had no idea that this was to be her last battle.

"Choose little bird, me or Shannon," Tamara remembered saying. As soon as the words left her mouth, the black woman knew that she had forced Aurore into a corner, but it was too late. Once said, it could not be taken back. The girl’s eyes turned dark as her frown grew.

"Don’t make me choose," Aurore had hissed even as Tamara tried to frantically think of a way out of this mess.

"Aurore listen to me, he’s not good for you. You are not like him!"

"How would you know what I am like? I’m not a child anymore…I’m not your child!" the teen growled as she turned away. "Go!"

"Aurore?" Tamara called to her student and lover, but the teenager did not give up the man. There was no amount of reason that would sway Aurore’s mind, and the African woman felt that she had little choice. So she left and traveled alone for nearly ten years. Just as before, when she felt a deep foreboding feeling, she feared that her little bird was in trouble and she returned quickly to find the two still together. She would have left again had it not been for Madame Tuscany, and yes, even Aurore. Although her protégée was unwilling to give up Shannon, she had begged for Tamara to stay. Despite her better judgment, Tamara stayed and returned to their old routine as if the split had never happened.

After the recent events, Tamara began to wonder if she was meant to return. If I had not been here, and they had done this to Briannon’s servant, then surely there would be nothing to stand between Briannon’s fury and Aurore, she thought as she turned her attention back to the clan matriarch. As it is, I’m not certain what can be done to fix this mess.

When Magdalena entered the room, Tamara smiled up at the mortal and waved the woman down to her. Once they switched places, the tall black woman knelt in front of the clan matriarch. Her gaze was steady as she held the old woman’s hands.

"Grandmother…Madame Tuscany, rest and regain your strength. I promise, I will see to everything. Do not fear for your grandchild," Tamara smiled reassurance as she squeezed the old woman’s hands. The grande dame gazed at her as if to search her sincerity. Once assured, she nodded as she accepted the cup of warm blood that Magdalena held to her lips.

Tamara rose from her place and moved with quick strides from the room. When she was in the open foyer she glanced down at Fernando. His eyes remained glued on her as he awaited her next command. With a slight sigh she lowered her head as she spoke softly to him. "Put out a call; let everyone know that Aurore is to be returned to us safely," Tamara ordered then quickly turned and made her way through the house. From somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Fernando reaching out with his vampire powers.

With a single purpose in mind she walked down a little used staircase that was located in the farthest part of the house. With a lantern in hand, she quickly skipped down the cold slabs until she reached the bottom. The sounds of the rodents and the cobwebs on the walls were the only evidence that this part of the house was seldom used. When she finally reached the long corridor, she heard the slight sounds of footsteps behind a thick metal door. As she opened the squeaky door, the grating sound of metal on stone echoed through the corridor.

The empty cell was covered with dirt and dust. Two short manacles that were embedded into cement hung from the wall. The rusty metal’s reddish hue glinted off the diffused light.

Tamara turned her attention away from the prison trappings to her captive. Shannon stood leaning against the farthest wall. A slight smile crossed his lips as he stared at her. With arms folded defiantly in front of him, he looked away with disgust. "Have you come for a private party then?" his familiar voice echoed in the chamber.

Tamara’s features remained neutral as she moved into the room. Her eyes gazed over his form. Even as her thoughts churned over the past events, she wondered what it was that Aurore had seen in this man. It’s true, he is a good fuck, but then, a woman with a strap on can also be a good fuck, she thought as she stepped closer to the man. What, little bird, did you see in him? She wondered.

As if hearing Tamara’s thoughts, Shannon smiled as he stood up and stared at her defiantly. "I gave her what she wanted," his voice echoed in the room.

"She never wanted that; she never wanted to be like you," Tamara spoke quickly. "I’ve known her longer than you. I knew her when she was a mortal."

"Ahhhh, but how well did you really know her?" Shannon smiled. He bit his lower lip as if to keep a secret and then tilted his head slightly at an angle as he toyed with her. "You see, I knew her as an immortal, and they always say that an immortal can never hide their true nature. Aurore wanted everything that I had to give her, and more. Why, I seem to remember even you crying out in pleasure more than a few times."

"I’ll grant you, you are good at fucking, but making love," Tamara shook her head as she moved slightly away from him.

"And you think that little girl knew how to ‘make love’?" a slight chuckle rose from Shannon. Angered by his insinuation, Tamara growled as she reached out with her powers. With only a flick of her wrist, she sent a massive force that slammed him into the cold wall. Grunting in pain, Shannon landed in a heap on the floor below the crack that his body had just made in the cement.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Shannon chuckled as he grunted in pain.

At his audaciousness, Tamara frowned as she moved to him. Her sandaled foot rested lightly between his legs. When she applied a slight pressure against his groin Shannon gasped as he looked up at her.

"It’s too late; you already are," Tamara hissed as she leaned down toward him. His eyes grew big when he saw the full wrath of her emotions rising. When she heard a noise outside of the prison cell, she growled once before pushing with all her strength down into Shannon. A scream of pain echoed off the ceiling and down the corridor. She heard Fernando’s gasp of sympathy behind her. By the time Tamara turned, she saw a slight smile on the immortal servant’s lips as he gave her a nod of approval.

"Do not give him any blood to drink. I want to make his life as uncomfortable as possible," Tamara instructed as she looked down at Shannon. Wailing in pain, the blond vampire cupped his injured parts as he rolled around on the dirty floor. "And while we have him where we want him, use those chains and hang him from the wall. We wouldn’t want him to be able to get his hands on any rat blood, now would we?"

"Oh no, rat blood is too good for this bastard," Fernando agreed as he moved past her quickly and manacled Shannon to the wall. Although in pain, their captive tried to fight against the taller immortal, but was quickly subdued.

"You damn poofer! I bet this is what you wanted all along!" Shannon spat as he tried to kick Fernando.

"Honey, you would be so lucky to have me want you like this," with a flick of his wrist, the tall, flamboyant vampire snapped his fingers as he shook his head.

Assured that Shannon was not going anywhere, Tamara walked from his cell. Behind her, she heard Fernando’s curses as he closed the large door on the prisoner. As the African woman made her way back up the stairs she contemplated all the possible outcomes. Only when she was back on the main floor did she release a tired sigh. Following close behind, Fernando lightly touched her shoulder as he gave her a concerned look.

"Aye, mami, look at you; you’re a bundle of nerves. Come on, mami, I know what can help," Fernando said as he led her to the kitchen. Once he had Tamara sitting in a chair, he began to knead her tense muscles. With each touch, the African felt her stiffness loosening. As the time seemed to slip away, she listened to his non-stop chatter and relished his attention. At one point he stopped massaging her shoulders and removed the silk turban on her hair. Just as he had done in the past, Tamara felt Fernando’s fingers working quickly with her hair. With a tired sigh, she adjusted herself in the stiff kitchen chair. The melancholy of the current events mingled freely with her memories of days gone by.

Tamara thought about Aurore and worried about her. She was afraid that the teen would get into trouble when she was out alone. Yet another part feared that Aurore would try to hurt herself. Tamara, more than anyone, knew of the teenager’s feelings of inadequacy. Long before Shannon had entered their lives, the two would lie together in their shared bed. Many days Tamara would hold the smaller body in her arms and offer words of comfort. Never a day went by that Aurore did not crave her grandmother’s approval. Although Madame Tuscany loved the girl dearly, what the teenager needed the most was what she would never receive from the matriarch. Aurore would never receive unconditional confidence from her grandmother and perhaps this was because the old woman knew what Tamara had always suspected. Aurore would never be capable of ruling the clan. There was nothing that could change the fact that the moment the teen was initiated into the darkness, her mind was not mature. She would forever be a teenager, trapped for eternity in a mind and body that would never age or learn from her mistakes. Aurore would never be capable of the traits needed to rule the clan. Despite Tamara’s feelings that all vampires were basically good, she had to admit to herself that sometimes, if they are taken too young, an immortal would be forever trapped in the angst of their era. Aurore was the prime example of such a creature.

At this thought, Tamara sighed deeply as she tried to sort through the mess. Her mind continually churned over the events that had just transpired. The black woman thought of her immortal friend, Briannon, and wondered what this would do to her. But most importantly she wondered what this would do to the clan of San Madrone. They were not her clan and not even her blood relations. As a nomad Tamara preferred to have ties to only herself. However, despite this she was concerned with the repercussions that Aurore’s actions would have.

In all of her immortal life Tamara had learned that there were very few rules that governed their lives. The first and foremost rule was that a vampire could never kill another vampire. Not only did it avoid power struggles, but it also prevented the messy consequences that could result from a blood feud. The second most important rule was that no vampire could touch or harm a mortal that was already marked. Before this rule, such minor squabbles of coveting another’s mortal led to struggles between the immortals. By the time the warring factions had ceased their fighting, the mortals they originally fought over were long gone and buried, their bodies either rotting or turned to dust. Thankfully the original ruling predecessors had realized the strife that envy could cause and had developed the second rule. Yes, there were other rules to follow, but they were mostly minor tenets - conduct that could be considered along the lines of good manners, and not as severe as breaking the two main rules.

With a sigh, Tamara closed her eyes to the migraine that threatened to take hold. As she pressed her fingers against her temples she wondered if it was even possible for a vampire to experience the pain of a migraine. After all, aren’t I technically dead and immune from all pain? The thought crossed her mind but was quickly wiped away by the memories of all of the various battles that she had lived through. Yes, for the most part, vampires were immune from the pain that mortals experienced, but this did not mean that they could not feel pain. It was simply a different type of pain.

"Calm down honey, or you’re going to give yourself wrinkles," Fernando admonished. Glancing over her shoulder, Tamara cast him a harsh gaze. When she saw a look of innocence on his face, she smiled as she shook her head.

"What mujer? You know I’m right, ahuh," the tall man nodded sagely as he returned his attention to braiding her hair. "You just listen to your girlfriend, cuz chica, when it comes to beauty secrets, I know what I’m talking about!" Fernando said with flair and then continued to braid her thick hair. As his fingers worked deftly over her cornrows, he continued his non-stop chatter while Tamara’s thoughts continued to ponder the recent events. When his voice suddenly grew quiet, she glanced up at him and noticed him staring at her.

"Well?" his brow hiked up inquisitively. When Tamara realized that Fernando had asked her a question, she frowned as she tried to remember what he was rambling about.

"Aw jou aren’t even listening to me, are jou?" Fernando’s accent grew thicker, an indication of his own rising level of stress. When the African woman didn’t respond, he frowned as he gently shoved her shoulder, "And dis is the fine thanks I get for fixing jour hair!"

"What Fernando, I’m sorry," Tamara apologized as she lightly tapped his hand.

"I asked jou, why do they call it French braids when the French didn’t even invent it?"

His question left Tamara momentarily speechless as she tried to fathom his train of thoughts. When this failed, she blinked as she shook her head. The migraine between her eyes increased in volume.

"Aie, jou aren’t even listening to me!" Fernando’s voice squeaked.

"I’m sorry, Fernando, I am listening to you but I simply do not understand what you’re asking? Honey, can you blame me with the way that you’re just prattling on?" exasperation showed in her voice.

"Aie, mami, I can’t help it!" Fernando squealed as he sat in the chair in front of her. He crossed his legs daintily as he held out his hands in front of her. "Just look at what dis whole mess is doing to me. Chica, look, look at my hands!" Fernando said as his hands were shaking like leaves in an autumn wind. "And jou think jou got it bad with jour migraine, just look what it does to me! I’m a nervous wreck, and when I’m a nervous wreck, my hands get all shaky, my accent gets thicker, and I get all emotional," his voice turned into a sob as the tears began to form. Removing a dainty handkerchief from his waistband, Fernando delicately wiped at the tears that threatened to fall. His face was a mask of anguished pain as he shook his head slightly, "This is a mess, just a mess!"

"I know Fernando, I know," Tamara sympathized with her friend as she took his shaky hands in hers.

"Mami, what’s going to happen? Do jou remember if something like dis has ever happened before?" the young vampire turned to her for words of comfort.

Tamara recalled the history of her people. She remembered the times of the Pharaohs when wars raged between immortal clans. In the beginning each side felt they were in the right. A concubine had been violated, a slave drained of blood. The faces and names never made a difference because in the end, no one was able to remember the exact cause of the wars.

With a shake of her head, a deep sigh escaped Tamara’s control. She looked down at the gentle immortal’s hands as she tried to find the words to say. As if understanding her thoughts, a slight sigh escaped Fernando’s control.

"Aye, dios mio, dis is bad…dis is very, very bad," Fernando whispered as he shook his head. He removed a string of Tibetan prayer beads from his pocket and began to nervously twirl them between his fingers.

"It all depends on how grandmother resolves it," Tamara stated as she leaned back in the chair, her gaze moved to the darkness of the kitchen windows.

"Oh, when it comes to that brat, Madame is not strong," Fernando shook his head as he returned the beads to his pocket, and then moved behind Tamara again while his hands continued to work on her hair. "For so long Aurore was allowed to run wild. I always said, ‘someday she will get into a big mess.’ Haven’t I said that, Magdalena?" he asked the servant girl who was cleaning the kitchen. The girl only looked at him, gave a sympathetic smile and nodded agreement. "Verdad, I always said that child would cause a big mess. And now look, we have a big mess!"

"What will happen?" Magdalena stepped forward, her eyes moving between the two immortals.

"Briannon could literally raise hell," Fernando explained as he tied off one of the tight cornrows and then continued on the next. "And she’d be within her rights! Why, the chica isn’t mine, and I wanted to rip that good for nothing’s head off," he shook his head as he finished braiding Tamara’s hair.

"Hopefully, depending on how grandmother responds, and if I can talk with Briannon beforehand, we can stave off some trouble," Tamara added.

"And if there is trouble?" the girl asked nervously.

Both immortals looked at each other, and their worried expressions answered her question. Before either one could speak, a muffled weeping came from Fernando’s room. Like a mother hen, the peacock moved instantly to the open doorway and ran down the cellar stairs. Rising from her chair, Tamara followed closely. The sound of their shoes echoed with their footfalls as they ran the short distance down the wooden stairs.

Below the estate and off from the kitchen was a large basement that Fernando had turned into his own living quarters. Unlike the old school of immortals, the young Hispanic vampire chose to live his life differently. While Tamara may not have understood his strange lifestyle choices she knew that many young vampires felt as he did. Rather than choosing to sleep in the protective confines of a coffin, the man had a large bed that was more suitable for a mortal than the un-dead. Around his room were the creature comforts that would have been found within any mortal home and this, more than anything, made Fernando a unique creature.

When they moved down into his room the first thing Tamara saw was the huddled mass of the newborn immortal. Although the poor creature was a mess when they first found her upstairs, since then Fernando had bathed and clothed the girl. He tended and cared for her as if he had been the one to bring her over. As the newborn wept uncontrollably, the young man sat upon the bed and pulled her into a close embrace.

"Que, hija? There, there, everything is alright now," Fernando cooed as he held her close. The new immortal’s eyes were shut tightly against the new vision that she had as she wept uncontrollably. Her pale arms seemed dwarfed within the borrowed nightshirt that she wore. As she watched Fernando with the girl, Tamara remembered what her own initiation was like those many years ago.…

Tamara was one of many daughters who were born to a concubine of a Pharaoh. Under normal circumstances she would have been forgotten amongst the daughters until a suitable marriage age was reached. But at an early age the Priests had ordained that she was special, so unlike her sisters her childhood lessons followed a different path. While her sisters were destined for arranged marriages, Tamara was groomed for the day when she would enter a secret sect. Just as the gods demanded their sacrifices, so too did they require initiates, which is what she would one day become.

While her many sisters spent their days learning wifely duties, Tamara was sent to the Priests to learn their special lessons. The African girl was taught how to read and write her people’s script and became well versed in the hieroglyphic writing system. When not studying, she was taught the Kushite martial arts. The black woman was not only an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but she also became a deadly foe with the numerous weapons which her people forged.

In addition to the traditional lessons of a scholar Tamara was taught the secret lessons of the Priestesses’ sect. Late into the night she would recite the verses to Amenta, the great god of darkness. Although she may not have understood the full ramifications of her position she knew that one day her destiny would be fulfilled. So while her sisters reached the age of marriage and left their home for distant lands, Tamara was left with her studies. Sometimes she felt jealous of her sisters’ abilities to leave the strict confines of their home. When they began to have children and Tamara was still a virgin, she envied their positions. But she did not voice it because she knew that her purpose was not to have mortal progeny. Her purpose was to follow a different path.

After living as a mortal for twenty-two years Tamara was taken below the earth and initiated into the sect. Although she knew that her own blood had to be spilt, and that pain would be involved, she had not been told how pleasurable the pain could be. Thankfully for her, her mentor was a gentle and kind woman. Tamara had not seen her before that day, and in following with the strict rules, she had never seen her initiator again. In that fleeting moment, when the African balanced on the cusp of immortality, this woman, this Priestess, had been the most tender and loving woman whom Tamara had ever met. Not only was she kind, but her loving touch made certain that Tamara experienced the full pleasure of the initiation during her last moment of mortal life.

Although Tamara had been with many lovers since that time, a part of her subconsciousness knew that no other would be the same. Yes, she would receive pleasure, and perhaps even amuse herself for a time, but the complete and total union of both body and mind would never be felt again. But because she had never seen her initiator again, the feelings of longing were muted behind her duties to the temple.

When Tamara had become accustomed to immortality, she quickly assumed her role as one of the Priestesses. While some were destined to be leaders and others followers, there were still others who were given the duties of maintaining the sect, and this is where Tamara fell in. She performed the rituals, spoke the ancient words and at every opportunity she studied the religious scrolls in order to gain a better understanding of her place in the world. During the few seasons when it was time for her to initiate another, she followed the instructions and brought over the men and women who were laid before her. Each time Tamara brought over a mortal, she remembered her own first time and strove to bring to the initiates as much pleasure as possible. Like her own experience, she would never see her immortal children again.

Being cloistered, she and her fellow immortals were immune to the politics of the outside world. Although her father was a Pharaoh, she paid little attention to status. All that mattered was that she and her sibling immortals were together to perform the rituals placed in their care. In time, the days turned to years and decades flew by like sand in the wind. While their mortal caretakers aged and grew old, the Priests and Priestesses of the order remained forever young. For Tamara there was nothing outside of her temple that would take her attention away from her studies, but that was about to change.

Just as Pharaohs battled for dominance, so too did the religious orders. One night as Tamara slowly awakened she became aware of a distant sound. Before she could waken completely the lid of her sarcophagus was opened, a blinding light of a torch scorched the air and the hushed whispers of her mortal servants beckoned her to rise. At first she was angry at the disturbance and flew in one smooth motion into the air. With arms held before her, a growl on her face and barring her teeth, Tamara glared at the mortals who were suddenly on their knees, their heads bowed in subservience.

"My Priestess, please forgive our disturbance but it could not be helped," Shu, her longest living mortal servant was the first to speak up.

Tamara heard the voices of mortals pleading for their lives from the distant corridor. Their pitiful screams echoed through the tomb. What followed next was a sound that would remain with Tamara for the rest of eternity. The shrilling cries of the immortals’ pain rose and mingled until it sounded like a hideous choir of voices. If she had only heard them, she might have been able to mute out the sounds. But each time an immortal died, she felt like a part of her was dying.

"Please, we must go!" Shu’s voice grew urgent as the others rose and moved to the farthest corridor. "Come now, quickly before they cut off the passage!" the mortal ordered even as he was pulling his mistress down next to him. From somewhere nearby Tamara felt a different human throw a cape over her shoulders before they whisked her from the tomb.

Although Tamara was fully awake when she made her escape, it was like a hazy dream. She remembered hearing and feeling the deaths of her immortal siblings. A few times her group bumped into other immortals and their servants. Just as dazed as she was, they were led down the labyrinth of the tomb. When the walls grew cold and the passage narrowed she knew that they were deep under the earth. Only when the path began an incline did she realize that they would soon be out in the open air.

The first time Tamara was pushed out of the secret passageway, she felt a moment of awe as she stared up at the canopy of stars. It had been so long since she had seen the night sky that she almost forgot how beautiful it was. But she did not have time to take in the beauty because the moment she turned and saw the distant fires, she knew what had happened. The immortals glanced at each other, momentarily stunned that such a thing could have occurred, but then they quickly moved into action. They were small in numbers and too weak to fight. Some had discussed feeding on their mortal caretakers in order that they could return to the temple and battle the savages, but this suggestion was quickly set aside. No, the reward for saving their lives could not be death, the majority had decided. So instead they made a pact to disperse through the lands. With their faithful servants, they would continue the practices in secret and wait until the day when their sect returned to life. But that never happened. As with many traditions, after a few centuries and the generation of faithful servants gave way to their offspring, the memories of their customs were lost. As Tamara watched the changes in humanity around her she knew that she could have kept them alive. But she also soon realized that as with all things, change was inevitable.

From that day forward Tamara survived by moving from place to place. In the beginning she remained close to the land of the pharaohs, but when even they became extinct, she began to wander through distant lands. From time to time, a mortal servant left her services until all that remained was one. Tamara always remembered the woman with fondness because out of all of her servants, she was the only mortal who had stayed with her to the bitter end of her own life. It was a life that even for Tamara was all but a fading memory.…

As the tall black woman watched Fernando with the new initiate, she remembered her own life that was filled with the turmoil of the immortals. Mirroring the squabbles of the mortals, her brethren vampires waged their own senseless battles against each other. The only difference between human and immortal wars was that one left the world covered in human blood, and the other, ashes. Either way, the killing and strife made no sense to Tamara.

The sudden sound of shattering glass caught the African’s attention. With a look of surprise, Fernando glanced up at her. His soft words of comfort for Sahar never stopped as he hugged the newborn close. Nodding at him, Tamara turned and bounded up the steps.

By the time she reached the main house, Tamara found Briannon standing in the middle of the main hall. When the front panel of glass shattered when the Irish woman broke through it, the human servants screamed as they ran for cover. If it were any other circumstances Tamara would have taken the time to admire the way that Briannon’s blue jeans hugged her body. She would have noticed the delicate curves under her camel colored blouse. But right now, with the sound of the exploding glass still ringing in her ears, the African only saw how the smaller woman’s short black cape billowed out around her body as her long hair fell in a gentle cascade over her shoulders. With the lights of the manor on, Briannon’s hair flowed like flames of fire. Alert for any trouble, the Irish woman crouch low ready to strike out at any attackers. When she turned and saw Tamara standing at the entry of the corridor, the smaller woman’s face screwed into a hideous scowl as she took a step toward her.

"Where is she?" something like a growl escaped Briannon’s lips.

"Briannon, my friend, calm down," Tamara tried to reason with the woman.

"Calm down?" the ruby red lips hissed as she glower and took a step toward her. "I want what is mine!" Briannon ran toward Tamara, but the taller woman easily deflected her.

"Listen to me! Briannon get a hold of yourself, please!" the black woman screamed and shook her friend. At this physical contact, Briannon gasped as she closed her eyes, then leaned heavily into the African woman’s arms.

"Oh Tamara," something like a moan escaped the woman’s control. "I-I…" she shook her head.

"Shush now, calm yourself," Tamara felt compassion for her friend as she led her toward a chair.

"When I heard…I-I mean…I just want to.…" Briannon sighed as she buried her face in her hands.

"Shush now, I know, but calm yourself. Your servant," Tamara began to say, then, remembering the woman’s new status, she gulped as she inhaled deeply. "Sahar needs you. She will need your understanding. Can you give it to her, Briannon?" she asked, and noticed the woman’s blank stare.

"W-What do you mean?" Briannon’s eyes were misty, her brows creased in thought.

"Come and you will see," Tamara said as she led the woman through the house and down the stairs. She felt the total hopelessness within her friend. Never before had she seen Briannon looking so despondent. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, the shorter vampire looked at Sahar, her eyes grew misty as she took a step toward the weeping woman.

"W-What has happened?" Briannon whispered, as her eyes remained glued on the new immortal. She looked upon the pale flesh, the once bruised and beaten body now held a radiant glow. Before Tamara could answer, a growl escaped the woman’s control as her fiery temper surfaced once more. Within the blink of an eye, Briannon’s palms wrapped around Fernando’s neck as she slammed him against the wall.

"How dare you touch my servant!" the Irish woman growled even as Tamara moved to pull her from the man. The African woman grabbed her friend with a mighty force and threw her from the immortal servant. Gasping for air, Fernando rubbed his bruising neck while Sahar wailed loudly. The newborn immortal cowered in the corner and covered her ears against the oppressive noise. Her new, sensitive hearing made everything within the room amplified.

"Briannon, stop!" Tamara stood between her two friends.

"He touched what was mine! I deserve to have satisfaction!" the Irish woman growled, her eyes never leaving Fernando.

"It wasn’t Fernando!" Tamara quickly stated and saw the look of shock in her friend’s eyes.

"Usted estan loca!" Fernando spat as he stood up, the painful grip once around his neck slowly subsiding. "And you got some nerve, loca! After you go and beat the poor chica so badly!" he screamed back. At their rising volume, Sahar closed her eyes tightly, buried her head in her arms as she released a blood-curdling scream. "Aye, see what you did?" Fernando admonished Briannon. "There, there, hija, it’s all right now, come to Papi, everything will be alright now," he cooed as Sahar went into his arms. She held on to him as if her very life depended on his touch.

"Both of you, if you cannot keep your voices down around the baby, then leave!" Fernando ordered in a no-nonsense voice.

Ordinarily Tamara would not have stood for such admonishment. But under the circumstances, with Sahar still adjusting to her changes and Briannon’s hot temper, the African felt it was prudent to take her friend away. As they walked back up the stairs, she spoke softly to the Irish woman.

"Briannon, I know how this looks, but trust me Fernando is not the one who turned Sahar," Tamara explained as she took her into the kitchen and sat her down. Magdalena stood still for only a moment before she began to move around the kitchen. Ignoring the mortal’s presence, the black woman spoke softly to Briannon. "Listen, it all happened so fast, not even I expected it. Had I known beforehand what they were going to do.…" Tamara shook her head as sadness crossed her features. "I hope you trust me, my friend. I would never have allowed them to touch your servant like this. Never!"

"I don’t understand," the redhead closed her eyes as she leaned heavily against a table.

When Magdalena nudged her and held out a cup of warm liquid, Tamara thanked the woman and offered the drink to Briannon. "Here, drink," she ordered as the Irish woman took the warm cup of blood and slowly drank it as if oblivious to its taste.

"But if Fernando didn’t turn Sahar," Briannon’s gaze fell on her, "who did?"

Tamara felt the silence growing in the room. With a deep breath she lowered her eyes. Throughout this whole event, the guilt of what she could have and should have done, weighed heavy on her heart. She knew that her precocious lover and Shannon were capable of great mischief. Usually she was at ease whenever she joined them and kept an eye on their antics. Although she did not approve of the torment they caused their prey, she had let their antics go and now Tamara wondered if she had played a part in this mess.

"Tamara?" Briannon’s voice pulled her from her self-reflecting. "What are you afraid to say?"

"Briannon," the tall woman looked away from her friend, then down at her own hands. "It was Aurore who turned her, and Shannon.…" she shook her head, too ashamed to speak openly of the barbarity that he displayed in this theatre of errors. When Tamara looked into her friend’s eyes she knew that she could not keep it quiet. After releasing a deep sigh, she leaned forward and took her friend’s hand. In a soft voice Tamara outlined the incident. She described what Sahar looked liked when they first found her and what Shannon had been doing when they entered the room. Although much of what had transpired behind the closed door was a mystery even to her, she guessed at what the poor mortal had experienced in the hands of the two lovers.

"Oh," was all Briannon could say as she set the half-empty teacup on the table.

"Briannon, listen to me. You cannot blame Sahar for this. I saw her in the parlor earlier today. Fernando is right, she was so badly beaten. I don’t believe she could have gone to them of her own volition. Aurore.…" Tamara shook her head as she lowered her eyes, "Aurore can be quite compelling."

"And Shannon…?" the Irish woman’s voice drifted into a whisper. "H-He.…" she shook her head as if attempting to wipe away the images that floated through her mind, "What happens now?"

Tamara felt like time had stopped moving. She did not know how to answer her friend, because she was unsure of what Madame Tuscany would do or if she would do anything against her own grandchild. When the African thought of Aurore, she felt a sorrow in her heart. She remembered all of the sweet times that they had shared together, the days when it was just the two of them making love to pass the days away. Yet the love she felt in her heart for the girl could not excuse what had happened to Sahar.

"Briannon.…" Tamara shook her head, unable to voice her fears.

"No," her friend’s voice held disbelief, "You can’t tell me that she’s going to let them get away with this?"

"I don’t know, Briannon," Tamara tried to soothe the woman’s anger.

"This can’t be happening," Briannon shook her head as her brows creased in thought. "How can they get away with what they did? How dare they touch my property like this! They disrespected me, ignored my claim, my rights and now they’re going to get away with it?" the redhead stood up and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

"Briannon, I don’t know what is going to happen. The decision has not been made, but I assure you, Madame Tuscany will not let this transgression go," Tamara said.

"She had better not! Why, how will I ever be able to hold my head up at clan gatherings if everyone knows what they did to me?" the look of disbelief crossed the Irish woman’s features. "This is an outrage! I demand satisfaction!" Briannon stopped her pacing as she stared at Tamara, "Where are they? I want them now!"

"Briannon, please, this is not the way," Tamara tried to reason with her friend, but Briannon would hear none of it. With a look of anger Briannon brushed by the tall woman and walked with deliberate steps through the mansion. Rather than climbing the spiral staircase, the small redhead leapt up to the second floor in a single bound.

"Where are they?" Briannon screamed as she began to search from room to room. "Damn you Aurore! Get out here and face me you no good fucking whore!" the vampire screamed as she ran through the house. "You fucking little bitch, I’m going to pull your goddamn cunt over your head and fuck you!" she promised and then continued her tirade against Shannon, "Shannon, you little dirty, no good mother fucking, cock sucking son of a bitch!" Her shouts echoed through the mansion, "I’m going to fuck you over good, you fucking asshole! I’m going to ream you good and then I’m gonna rip your fucking head off and shit down your goddamn neck before I’m done!" Her rage grew with each door she slammed and piece of furniture she broke.

Tamara remained silent to the anger and rage exploding from Briannon. The expletives seemed to grow worse each time she failed to find the couple. With a tired sigh, the African watched as her friend was opening the doors and laying the rooms in ruins.

"Where are they, Tamara? Don’t try to hide them from me!" Briannon screamed down the stairs turned and ran to Aurore’s room. Without even touching it, Briannon waved toward the door and sent it flying from its hinges, the shards of splinted wood landing throughout the empty room. "How dare they disrespect me! The fucking piles of shit! I’ll teach them not to go against me! I’ll teach those fucking whores to lay a hand on my property!" her voice echoed from the room.

Tamara stood at the bottom of the steps, her head bent as she tried to think of a way to calm her friend. She wondered if giving her Shannon would appease her. Before Tamara could make up her mind, Briannon flew down the stairs, her flowing red hair in disarray as she pushed her way past Tamara.

"This is bullshit! I want those bastards, and I want them now!" the Irish woman screamed as she ran toward the grande dame’s office.

"Briannon stop!" Tamara was quickly on her heels. Before Briannon could reach the door, the taller woman grabbed her arm and subdued her. In a forceful manner she pushed the smaller body against the wall as she tried to reason with her, "Briannon, listen to me. Madame Tuscany is not going to let this go unpunished. She realizes how severe this is and she will not let it go. Please believe me, a solution that will appease all will be found."

Briannon stared up at her through the darkness. Her eyes attempted to gauge Tamara’s sincerity. With a nod of understanding, the smaller woman inhaled deeply and then pried Tamara’s hand off of her. "If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear that for myself," the Irish woman hissed before opening the door to Madame Tuscany’s study.

Tamara followed close behind. She noticed the old woman sitting like a stone statue in her high-backed chair. All previous weakness had vanished and what remained was the white puff of pipe smoke that hovered precariously above the desk. Unlike earlier, the old woman’s features seemed impervious to outside forces.

"This is an outrage!" Briannon screamed as she leaned on the large desk.

Madame Tuscany gazed up at her with a stony glare. Her lips perched on the tip of her pipe. With a casual air of authority, the aged matriarch inhaled the smoke; her eyes never wavering from Briannon before she withdrew the pipe from her lips and leaned back in her chair. "I have never experienced such rudeness from you, hija," Madame Tuscany’s slow, controlled voice stated. With a wave of her bony hand she looked away from Briannon as a slight frown formed on her features, "Under the circumstances I will, of course, overlook it this one time."

Briannon’s eyes grew large with surprise. She glanced at Tamara, who could only look away, before she returned her attention to the clan matriarch. In a move to control her anger, Briannon sighed deeply. When her rage appeared under control, the Irish woman sat in a chair across from the old woman’s desk. "Madame Tuscany.…" she began to say, but when the clan matriarch glanced sharply at her, Briannon sighed as she sat back in the chair, "Grandmother, what has happened…what they did…."

"It’s despicable even for them!" Madame Tuscany agreed; her voice held nothing but contempt.

"I deserve satisfaction," Briannon added.

"And so you shall get it, hija," the clan matriarch nodded, her lips returning to the pipe. With each puff she took, a clear aromatic mixture of roses and mint filled the room.

"Grandmother, to protect them…to protect your granddaughter is unworthy of someone of your stature. Surely you understand this," Briannon’s voice was low and controlled.

"I had no intentions of protecting them, hija. What they did.…" Madame Tuscany shook her head as a sigh escaped her control. The pipe was held loosely on the palm of her hand that now rested on her lap, "No hija, I know what you fear. But rest assured this will not go unpunished."

"I have a right to stand before those who wronged me. It is my right to wage a claim over them in order to exact my revenge," Briannon moved close to the edge of the chair.

"Yes hija, it is your right," the old woman agreed. "A clan gathering has been called. In forty-two hours you can lay forth your claim and exact your revenge, as it is outlined for all clans. When you feel satisfied that your revenge has been met, I shall decree their punishment because we both know that death is not an option for Aurore and Shannon."

"I know that grandmother, and as much as I’d like it, I am not asking for their deaths. I simply want them to pay for what they have done to me!" Briannon hissed.

Madame Tuscany’s gaze did not waver. Her eyes remained fastened on the Irish woman. The old woman’s body was unmoving as her eyes seemed to examine Briannon. When the grande dame began to nod, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes growing vacant as she got a far away look. Tamara was almost ready to step forward but stopped herself when the older woman looked up at her.

"Unfortunately Aurore is not here at the moment," at the grande dame’s words, Briannon’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. Her suspicious gaze fell on Tamara.

"Are you hiding the slut?" came Briannon’s accusation. The harshness of her words caused Madame Tuscany to flinch.

"Briannon, I understand full well your anger. But mark my words, Aurore was once my lover, and she is still Madame Tuscany’s grandchild. I will ask that you curb your tongue and show some respect," Tamara felt her anger boiling. She had not planned on defending Aurore, but she would not stand by and allow this level of disrespect in the presence of the clan matriarch. As if sensing her resolve, the Irish woman frowned as she nodded acceptance. When calmness seemed to return, she glanced down at the older woman.

"Forgive me," it came from under Briannon’s breath. "Aurore has wronged me. She has not only touched my servant, but she also brought her over without my knowledge. And what Shannon did…what he…he.…" Briannon looked as if she was ready to lose control again.

Before she could continue, the aged matriarch raised her hand to silence her. "We have Shannon. I believe that forty-two hours will be long enough to exact your revenge?" the old woman asked, but did not wait for a response. Instead, she turned to the black woman, her words clear and controlled. "Tamara, you may turn over Shannon into Briannon’s care. I trust that you will bring him to the clan gathering, alive," she emphasized.

"Oh trust me, he’ll be alive. Barely, but he’ll be alive" the Irish woman hissed as she stood up.

Out of respect, Tamara waited for the dismissal. When she received the slight nod from Madame Tuscany, she looked at Briannon and then led the way down the hall. She noticed Fernando standing in a hallway, his inquisitive gaze turned from her to Briannon.

"Grandmother has turned over custody of Shannon to…our friend," Tamara spoke the words that would free her of the responsibility for the wretched man.

"Ahhh," Fernando gave a toothy smile as he turned and ran ahead of them. "I couldn’t have thought of a better plan!" he seemed to giggle as he fished the key from his pocket and led them down the hallway toward the secret staircase. "Jou know, if I didn’t have the baby to look after, I would ask if I could help you. But with the baby and all.…" his voice trailed off as he took a nearby lantern and began to lead the way down the circular stone stairwell.

"I have my own plans for the bastard," Briannon hissed as she followed close on Fernando’s heels.

When Tamara glanced at her friend, she wondered if the Irish woman had even heard Fernando. For the first time she realized that she truly did not know the redhead well. Seeing Briannon acting in such an atypical manner caused her think about their friendship. Ever since they met, Tamara always saw Briannon as a gentle caring person when it came to her servant Sahar. There was never a time when the immortal did not dote over the human or make certain that she was well clothed and fed. But now, with Sahar recuperating from the emotional, physical and psychological abuse, Briannon didn’t seem to notice the woman’s suffering. This, more than anything, disturbed Tamara.

Is this the woman whom Madame Tuscany wanted to pass the clan to? Tamara wondered as she followed behind Fernando and Briannon. How can she care more for herself than for what the poor mortal went through? She didn’t even seem to care that her former servant was suffering terribly from the experience. If such a person lacks empathy, how then can she be the next clan leader? And if she thinks I would hide Aurore, then perhaps I don’t know Briannon all that well, Tamara thought as she followed the two figures.

As the tall black woman moved down the stone staircase she thought over her friend’s reaction. Through the entire event, Tamara kept her anger at bay. Next to Madame Tuscany, in this little town of San Madrone, she had known Briannon the longest. She always had been under the impression that the Irish woman knew her well, yet after Briannon’s earlier outburst the African realized how little they really knew each other. Yes, it was true that she loved Aurore and would have protected her against anything. Tamara fully admitted that she cared for the teenager more than even she understood. But her love and affection for the girl would not have hindered justice from being served, and she was a bit disappointed that Briannon did not believe this.

When they reached the end of the dark corridor Tamara looked down at the smaller woman. She noticed the deep burning hatred in the Irish woman’s eyes and instantly understood that it was not directed at her. Nodding, the African stepped away from the iron door

"I have put up with their impertinence for far too long now," Briannon’s words echoed through the corridor.

"Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything to the bastard. Not that I didn’t want to, mind you, but we held off," Fernando explained as he moved to the last iron door, "He’s in here, safe and snug."

"Good, let me at him," the Irish woman growled as she stood back and let the door fly open.

Shannon remained hanging on the wall with the manacles firmly around his wrists. When the light from the lantern entered the cell, he momentarily blinked as he gazed at them. Once his eyes became adjusted to the light, a wry smile formed on his lips. "So Bree, have you come for some fun? Did your little pet tell you what a good ride I was?" a snicker came forth from the man.

Although small in stature, Briannon’s entire frame seemed to take up the cell. The Irish woman remained silent as she stood in front of the man. From her body language she seemed the epitome of calmness, but in a split second, a growl escaped her control as she shoved her fist into Shannon’s smiling face. Blood instantly spurt from his nose and teeth caved in from the gums as the smaller woman’s fist made contact. The sound of his skull hitting the cement wall reverberated in the cold confinement before the rattling of the manacles on the chains jingled in the air. In an instant, Shannon’s body was slack and the only thing holding him were the chains around his wrists. Pulling away from him, Briannon held a look of disgust. While she wiped off the blood from her knuckles her glare remained fastened on the man’s form.

"My name is Briannon, shit for brains!" the Irish woman hissed to the unconscious man, and then glanced up at Fernando.

Tamara and Fernando knew that if Shannon had been mortal, this single blow would have ended his life. But as an immortal, it only knocked him out. Without needing any prompting the tall servant moved toward Shannon’s dangling form and began to release him from the manacles.

"Wait!" Briannon stopped the immortal servant. "Those might come in handy," she stated, almost to herself. In a single swift move she grabbed a hold of the chain that was embedded in the wall and yanked with all her might. The grating sound of breaking concrete rang through the air before the jingling of the manacle was heard. Using her superior strength, Briannon freed the second chain, then, taking both in her hand, she began to drag the vampire behind her.

"Never have I thought I would see this day!" Fernando was filled with glee as they began to follow behind the smaller woman. "Let me tell you, this bastard is going to get his just deserts!"

Tamara followed close behind the figures. Halfway up the stairs Shannon regained a semblance of consciousness and began to groan with the pain of the stairs slamming into his head. By the time they reached the main floor, his bare feet were trying to scramble to stand up, but Briannon’s pace was too quick and she continued through the house unabated. When they reached the main hall, Shannon yanked on the chains in a feeble attempt to regain his freedom. The small Irish woman seemed to pay him no mind as she dragged him through the shattered glass.

"You bitch!" Shannon howled as his bloody feet left drag marks across the wooden floor. With all his strength, he yanked on his chains and caused the woman to stop in her tracks. Filled with a never before seen rage, Briannon turned on the lithe man. Her glare seemed to hold him captive as she stared down at him.

"Now you listen to me, boy, your ass is mine for the next forty-two hours!" Briannon growled before her sharp fingernails dug into his eyes and the blood began to ooze from the sockets. At the sounds of the vampire’s screams, Fernando moved instinctively behind Tamara, his gaze ever watchful over the unfolding scene. When Briannon stood up, she glared down at the writhing man as she wiped the mess from her hands on Shannon’s white shirt.

"Before I’m finished with you, you’re going to wish that vampires can kill vampires," the whispered promise came forth right before Briannon turned abruptly away and continued to drag the man behind her. His body slammed into the wooden windowsill, as the jagged edges of the broken glass cut shreds into his shirt and elicited more screams.

"No, please! For the love of.…" Shannon wept as he tried to hold onto the windowsill, "It was all Aurore’s idea, please, I beg of you!"

"Shut up you fucking cocksucker! By the time I get through with you nancy boy, you’re going to be begging for a lot more than just mercy! And trust me, your little slut will get what’s coming to her as soon as I’m through with you!" Briannon shouted as she stomped on Shannon’s hands, and then continued to drag the screaming, wailing man from the house.

From inside of the broken window the two immortals stood and watched as Briannon dragged the man behind her. They witnessed her magical powers begin to take hold and in a single, fluid motion, the shorter woman took a single step and began to soar into the air. Apparently choosing not to change into a bird form, Briannon maintained her shape. Tamara and Fernando leaned out of the broken window and watched her disappearing into the darkness. Shannon’s legs were thrashing in the air, kicking out at the night sky. His arms were held over his head by the manacled chains. When the two forms disappeared from view, Tamara gazed at Fernando and noticed his look of fear. Although they hated Shannon, neither one envied the position he was now in. Pulling away from the scene, Tamara looked down at the broken glass.

"Fernando, supervise the clean up of this mess and make certain that the shutters are in working order before the sun rises," Tamara’s weary voice instructed as she made her way toward the grande dame’s study. When she opened the door, she noticed the old woman still sitting in her chair, as her eyes stared at the open door.

"Grandmother," Tamara slowly entered the room. She waited and watched the woman closely.

"You heard?" the old woman’s voice sounded weary. Not certain of the question, the African woman remained silent. Only when Madame Tuscany turned to her and waved her to a chair did she move closer. With a tired sigh the aged matriarch set her pipe on a silver tray as she leaned back in her chair, "Aye, hija, what am I to do?"

"Grandmother?" Tamara’s brow hiked upward in a question.

"You heard her; Briannon is only concerned about one thing," the old woman shook her head in sadness.

"Herself," Tamara agreed.

"Yes. She knows what happened to Sahar, the barbarity and abuse that the mortal went through, yet, hija, she is only concerned for herself," Madame Tuscany’s voice held a tinge of surprised disappointment. "A leader must have empathy. They must care more for their clan than themselves. I have placed all of my hopes and desires on the wrong person," she said as she rose from the chair and walked to the open door, "Yet, Aurore was never suited for such a task. Her age, her maturity level, I thought was too young. But now Briannon.…"

"Has not the virtue needed to rule, Grandmother," Tamara agreed as she leaned back in the chair. Her elbows rested easily on the chairs arms, "There is still Anecita."

"Yes…Anecita," the grande dame’s voice was but a whisper. "But how do I know that she is the right choice? What will happen if.…" the old woman’s voice drifted into a whisper.

Tamara remained silent. She knew what frightened the old woman yet did not know how to appease her. Unlike the majority of the immortals, Madame Tuscany was brought over by a cruel man who thought it was sporting to take her just when her life was near its end. The constant aches and pains that she held in life remained with her throughout eternity. This alone would be enough to send any immortal to walk into the sun. Yet if the grande dame chose this avenue, then who would she leave in charge of her clan? For a woman like Madame Tuscany the continuation of her familia, as she called them, was her paramount concern.

"Tamara, I need to speak with someone," the aged matriarch began to look around the room. Instantly alert, the African was on her feet and by the elderly woman’s side.

"Grandmother, surely it can wait," Tamara lightly touched the woman’s arm. With a look of confusion, the haggard old woman glanced at her. Her eyes grew vacant as if lost in her own world. Wrinkled lips that once smiled creased into a frown before a light returned to Madame Tuscany’s eyes.

"What, hija?" the woman seemed dazed and confused.

"Madame…Grandmother, you were going to go and talk with someone, but please, can it not wait? The sunrise is but a few hours away, hardly enough time for you to return," Tamara gently reminded as she smiled at the older woman.

Madame Tuscany appeared confused and then afraid. Understanding the aged woman’s condition, Tamara wrapped her arm protectively around the matriarch and began to walk with her from the office. Just as she had done when Mr. Tuscany was still alive, Tamara felt protectiveness come over her for the old woman.

"Grandmother, it is late and you need your rest. Why don’t you settle in for the day and tonight, as soon as sunset is upon us, I will go with you wherever you wish," Tamara promised as the woman was obediently following her down the hall.

"Yes, rest first and then we will go to the circus. You will come with me, Tamara?" the older woman looked up at her. With a smile, Tamara gently brushed the woman’s arm as she nodded.

"Yes, Grandmother, if it is the circus you wish to attend, then so be it. I will go with you to the circus," the African promised as a mortal servant moved to help the clan matriarch to her sleeping chambers.

"Good…good. I must have words with the Gypsy Queen. It is important that we speak," Madame Tuscany muttered under her breath, her frail body seemed to cave in upon itself as a servant led her down the hallway toward the cellar that housed her coffin. With each step that she took, the tiredness seemed to pour from her body.

"A circus?" a soft whisper came from Tamara’s side. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed Fernando moving from the shadows. His gaze remained glued on the old woman who was now mumbling to herself.

"Apparently so," Tamara replied.

"Well…I guess it’s a circus we go to then," Fernando shrugged his shoulders then turned his full attention on her. "I hate to make a situation worse, but I believe we’ve found the trail that Aurore left," his features turned grim.

With a tired sigh, Tamara held her fingers to her temples as she shook her head, "How many mortals did Aurore hurt?"

"At best guess, two. One police officer was murdered, another one raped. The officer who was raped was taken to the emergency room, rambling about vampires," Fernando’s gaze grew solemn, "They’re putting her in the psyche ward, but still.…"

Tamara shook her head as she turned away from him. She began to pace the length of the room as the full ramifications of Aurore’s actions settled in. Not only did the immortal teen break a covenant within the vampire clan, but she also jeopardized all immortals by attacking humans. In the past such an action had led to the hunting and persecution of all immortals.

"There is some good news," Fernando added as he stepped closer to her, his eyes glued on her.

"Please, tell me what can be good in this entire situation?" Tamara felt hopelessness cover her soul.

"Aurore is contained. Destiny and her girls have her and will keep her…occupied for the day. They promise to return her by nightfall," his words caused Tamara to sigh.

Tamara knew that of all the vampire clan, perhaps only Destiny and her girls would be able to keep Aurore contained. Between their notions of sex play, their sheer number of women, and their vast amounts of energy, they could keep Aurore from hurting anyone else and would indeed keep her safe for the day. As the images of what they would do with the immortal teen filtered past her thoughts, Tamara could only release a tired sigh.

"So she will have one last night to have her…fun," Tamara spoke out loud.

"Yes, but at least she will be returned to us," Fernando answered her.

"And then what?" Tamara asked, but did not expect an answer. With a slight smile, she looked at the immortal servant. Her eyes became misty as she thought of the depths of her love for Aurore.

"Aye, mami, you know that you were meant for so much better!" Fernando tried to wipe away her melancholy.

"Perhaps so, Fernando, but I think I finally realize something," the African woman spoke softly as she glanced at the workers who were repairing the large window. "For the first time I realize that I need her more than she needs me," she answered his unspoken question. When she looked at him, she saw the sadness in his eyes. Fernando was not worried about Aurore, as no love was lost between them. But he was genuinely concerned for Tamara. Seeing this warmed her heart. With a slight smile, she reached out and lightly patted the vampire’s shoulder.

"It’s all right Fernando. I tried my best to take care of her, to keep her from harm and out of trouble," Tamara spoke softly and then shook her head as if to pull herself from her melancholy, "I can do no more for the little bird. This is a problem that I cannot fix."

Fernando watched her carefully. His eyes scanned her as his hand reached out and lightly touched her arm. With an understanding smile, he only nodded before she turned and made her way tiredly to her room.

There was a part of Tamara that wanted to believe that all vampires were inherently good. Yet after so many years with Aurore and then Shannon, she was finding it hard to be optimistic. She could no longer claim that vampires simply needed to see the goodness within and they would be good, because she had always told Aurore how precious and gentle she was, all to no avail. As for Shannon, she could not begin to lay claim to understanding such a man. If evil was a creature, then she would have to admit that it resided in Shannon. Nothing he ever said or did made her believe otherwise, and whereas it was true that she had participated in their antics, she could not even begin to explain why she did. Perhaps this was her personal hell. She would be forever condemned to try to understand how goodness could not be found in two immortal souls and how she had allowed herself to be swayed into their folly.

Tired beyond belief, Tamara, the daughter of a pharaoh, priestess of a long gone order, made her way to her sarcophagus. As she lay down to sleep for the day, her mind continued to churn on the past events. Through it all, her heart wept for the little girl she had once known. She wept for the woman she had come to love because she knew that Aurore was now lost to her. As the stone lid closed out the morning sun, she closed her eyes to the silent tears that slowly trickled down her black, ashen cheeks.

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