Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

Author's Note: I am not a Latin scholar, so the Latin phrase comes from Dio....someone who kindly reviewed the story *S*. A heartfelt THANK YOU from me!
psyche b.


4. Invitations and Opportunities

Kathryn thought that she must have tried on just about everything she owned before finally settling on a dark green skirt that was slightly longer than the black dress she wore the first night. It had a fullness that moved nicely around her legs. The cream-colored blouse draped gracefully around her neck, forming a modest “V”. The double strand of pearls nestled against her throat and in the heels she had chosen she just about manage to be 5'4”. If he was as tall as she remembered, she would still feel very short, but that was nothing new. She checked her hair one last time and was satisfied with the smooth, soft waves that fell nearly to the middle of her back. She was, in her own opinion, presentable.

A car arrived for her promptly at eight. Kathryn tried to be calm but her heart was pounding by the time she entered the club. He was waiting for her in the shadows of the small entry and Kathryn was glad the dim lighting hid her flush when he kissed her hand.

“So glad you accepted my invitation.” He led her through the club itself with his hand in the small of her back.

“I thank you for extending it.” He led her through a concealed door with a smile. Once it was closed behind them, the noise of the club was gone and the gentle strains of classical music floated through the air. The room was lit by the fire in the hearth and candles glowing from the corners of the room.

“Beethoven.” Kathryn said after listening a moment. She felt herself relaxing.

“You appreciate classical music.” He stood behind her, taking the cloak from her shoulders when she unfastened it. Kathryn realized that he was not only tall, but his shoulders were broad as well.

“Very much so, I suppose I'm still a little surprised when I find someone else who does.” Kathryn stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the book-lined walls with the appreciation of a keen-eyed scholar. She noticed even in the candlelight that many of the volumes were quite old.

“Please, sit.” He indicated a large sofa in front of the fire. “Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine perhaps?”

“Yes, thank you.” She sat, her legs crossed, still taking in the room. It was well-appointed and comfortable but understated. Masculine wood tones were underscored with touches of burgundy and golden brown leather.

“Perhaps you associate with the wrong people.” Her fingers brushed his as he handed her the cool glass of white wine. He smiled slightly and sat close to her.

“You mean Corey.” Kathryn's voice was matter of fact. She took a sip and set the glass on the side table.

“If I offend you Miss Paige - “

“No, and please, call me Kathryn.”

“If you will call me Lucien.” Kathryn smiled and nodded.

“Anyway,” She continued. “I know what people think of Corey and I hope you know how sorry I am for running out like that the other night. I'm sure that she would be very embarrassed too, if she could remember anything.” Kathryn found that she couldn't meet his eyes as she said it. She had apologized for something Corey said or did too many times to count, but this time seemed especially embarrassing.

“No need for apologies from you. She must have qualities that are not immediately apparent.” He took a long drink of his red wine before setting it aside.

“I'll put it this way, I was one of those weird kids who skipped grades. Corey was the only high school senior who wanted to be friends with a fourteen year old. She has a good heart.” She turned to face him a bit more, one foot drawn up under her. His arm rested along the back of the sofa.

“Strange, of the two of you I would have said that you were the eldest.” His fingertips brushed against her hair and Kathryn shivered slightly, she looked down at her hands for a moment before lifting her eyes again.

“Everyone thinks that, I chalk it up to having an old soul. I wanted to thank you for the letter. You must have gone to a great deal of trouble for it.”

“Not as much as you might think.” He smiled slightly. “I'm a student of languages myself so I dusted off one I thought you might appreciate.”

“And I do, though there was one thing I didn't quite understand. I'm sure it's because I haven't been studying as much as I should. Would you mind explaining it?” Kathryn knew she should have looked it up before now, but it at least filled a gap in conversation.

“Not at all, do you have it here with you?”

“Of course.” Kathryn pulled the envelope out of her bag and drew out the sheets. She scanned the text quickly. “This line here. 'In spe sum potest fieri, ut amicam sine te tempori vespertino conterere' I'm sure that you're expressing a hope about the evening, but I'm not sure what it is.”

He smiled a bit. “Perhaps it's not a very nice thing to say, but I said I hoped that your friend could be without you for the evening.”

“Honest is sometimes more important than nice.” She laughed softly and read the line to herself, committing it to memory.

“Not quite.” He repeated the correct pronunciations. Kathryn watched his lips as he spoke, carefully repeating the words and intonations.

“Perfect.” He said softly, with a small smile.

The sudden silence made Kathryn keenly aware of how close they were and how intensely he was looking at her. She looked away, fumbling with putting the pages away.

“Thank you, but I'm sure you didn't intend this to be a language lesson.” She backed away again until she felt the arm of the sofa against her back, letting her hair fall over her face a little.

“I intended to get to know you better.” He moved her hair from her face gently. “And thus far you have made me very curious to know more.”

“That's very kind, but really, I'm so plain I don't know what more there could be to tell.” Kathryn found herself wanting to lean into his touch, but she resisted the impulse.

“Maybe you could tell me why you hide from your fans.” His fingers moved lightly through her hair.

“I never thought I would have fans. Even after the book was accepted I had no idea it would become so successful. Maybe that sounds naïve, but it's really what I believed. 'Unrepentant' was just kind of an experiment that took on a life of its own.”

“Surely you knew you had talent.” His voice was soft but the statement was powerful.

“I knew I had skill, but so do millions of other people. I was just lucky enough to be pushed into writing at the time that I was.” Kathryn didn't like the word talent. She could turn a phrase, but she had learned how to do it and she was certain that most people could learn the same thing.

“Yes, you mentioned a bet.”

“It sounds very Mary Shelley, I know.”

“So you bet someone that you had the most frightening nightmare?” She could feel his intense curiosity about her work and she squirmed a little. His fingertip stroked her cheek lightly, sending pleasant shivers chasing after each other down her spine. She looked at him strangely for a moment.

“Funny, I never thought of 'Unrepentant' as nightmarish.” Kathryn thought. “I guess you could look at it that way, but the point of the bet was for me to show a group of men with big mouths that just because a woman writes a story about an immortal person doesn't mean that it's automatically overly romantic fluff. Of course I made that statement before I had any ideas at all, so it was pure chance that I wrote anything.” She laughed softly.

“I've read your book. All three of them in fact.” He stated simply and Kathryn felt herself blush deeply. “How did you go from no ideas to 'Unrepentant'?”

“You actually read them?” Kathryn was surprised and a bit embarrassed. She felt a nervous restlessness under his close scrutiny and she walked over to the shelves to catch her breath. She stayed close to the pools of candlelight to better read the titles, she noticed there were a number of different languages represented. “You don't strike me as the kind who spends much time on fiction, especially my kind of silly ravings.” She held her hands crossed over her tummy as much to calm herself as to keep from touching some of the tempting books.

“True, I tend to prefer the reality of history, or at least the reality as view through the distortions of morality, prejudice and imagination. This is only part of my collection.” He stood behind her, his hands moving up her arms to rest softly on her shoulders. “Your first book was a gift. I hadn't intended to read it but I was flipping the pages and happened upon one of your character's historical reminiscences. You paint the past in bold, accurate strokes Kathryn. That left me quite impressed and wanting to read more, so I picked up the other two.” His index fingers stroked either side of her neck. She shivered a bit against him.

“Thank you.” She could feel the little quiver in her voice.

“So to hear you had no ideas is a bit surprising, and perhaps a bit hard to believe.” His thumbs worked soft against her neck and Kathryn felt her knees weaken a bit. She clasped his hands to steady herself.

“If I tell you the story, you will think I'm a very cruel person.” A blush touched her cheeks.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He pressed his thumbs in a little harder and Kathryn had to stifle a moan.

“Alright, but my mouth is so dry all of a sudden. Let me get something to drink.” She took a sip of the wine and sat down again, her legs drawn up under her she rested on one hip. He sat closer this time and she had to force herself not to squirm. “My father wanted me to meet someone he had been seeing, so we all went to dinner. Within thirty seconds I learned that her name was Jenna, she was a vegan and I was a horrible human being because I do eat meat and other animal products.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “I will presume that your father was not charmed by her manners. What did you say?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Kathryn smiled a cold little smile and met his gaze. “I enjoyed a wonderful steak tartar and watched Jenna go from white to gray to a most unexpected shade of green. Then, for some reason she left.”

His look of surprise was as pleasant as his rich, warm laughter. Kathryn felt her cheeks flush with pleasure as she laughed.

“I told you I had a cruel streak. Anyway, as I was tuning out my father's lecture I thought, food is food. The cow didn't feel sorry for the grass it ate; I didn't feel sorry for the cow. Why should a person like Paul feel any guiltier for surviving in his own way than any other living thing feels? I wrote ten pages that night and the rest is history, so to speak.” Kathryn smoothed the hem of her skirt over her knees, waiting for his reaction.

“You never use the word, do you?” It was a statement more than it was a question. One cool finger traced designs on the back of her hand, his eyes on her face.

“What word is that?” Kathryn looked into the fire, letting her hair fall over her face.

“Vampire.” He moved her hair aside again, turning her to face him.

“Haven't I said it?” She tried to sound casual, but Kathryn could feel panic rising for some reason. “Strange, I thought I had.”

“No. Say it.” There was a distinct note of command again.

“I write it all the time.” She said. She felt the pressure against her mind beginning again. His thumb stroking her jaw.

“But I want to hear it from your lips.” His eyes were locked on his, her mind struggling against the increasingly uncomfortable pressure.

“Why? It's just a word.” Somehow she knew he wasn't going to be deterred but the conversation seemed trivial to the battle raging inside her head.

“If it's just a word why do you resist saying it?” His voice had taken on a harsh tone that would have sent her running immediately, if she hadn't felt rooted to the spot. The pressure turned to bright pain.

“You're hurting me!” She whimpered, tears squeezing from the corner of her eyes.

“Hush, Kathryn.” He drew her head against his shoulder and she found she had no energy to struggle, his voice soothing again. “Stop resisting me.” He brushed away her tears and she felt her resolve slipping. “Resisting will only bring you more pain.”

Kathryn couldn't hold him back anymore. The crushing pain was gone instantly, replaced with swirling warmth and the sound of her own heartbeat. Her body went limp against him and she got a sense of the power of his will.

“There now, just one word.” His voice resonated inside her head, soothing her further.

“Vampire.” She whispered against his shoulder, her body trembling.

“Hush.” He soothed again, his fingers stroking through her hair. “If I should require your surrender like this again, you won't resist me, will you?”

“I'll....try not to.” Her consciousness was fighting and caught up at the same time.

“Then I will teach you not to, but at another time. For now, it will be as if this exchange never happened. Do you understand?” Kathryn nodded and he brushed away the last of her tears. He helped her to sit up again and Kathryn found herself staring at the softly glowing fire, feeling as though something was missing.

“Kathryn?” He smiled and stroked her cheek lightly.

“I'm sorry.” She blushed softly. “It seems the music and the wine put me in a rather dreamy state for a moment.”

“I asked about your new book, but if you would rather not talk about it, I understand.” She was getting used to his closeness, finding it comfortable.

“I don't mind, though I don't have much to tell right now. It's number four in the 'Unrepentant' line. It's the last one I'm under contract for and while I've been playing around with a few ideas, nothing is crystallizing yet.”

“You sound as if you'd rather not do it.” His arm rested along the back of the sofa and she leaned her head against it for a moment.

“If I wasn't under contract I wouldn't. It sounds very whiny, but I'm tired of getting stacks of letters ranting about how the word is spelled with a “y” not an “i”. Other people tell me my character secretly feels guilty and I should focus on that, but if he does it's a secret from me too. A lot of them complain that I make up my own folklore and that I break all the rules. It doesn't seem to occur that I just do what fits in the story. All of those would be fine and I might even be able to deal with them face to face, but then there are the very strange ones who frankly scare me. They’re why I hide and why I’m glad the series is ending. Sounds whiny doesn’t it?”

“Maybe honest would be a better word.”

“Thanks, but you're being nice.” She laughed softly. “Still, I'm glad I thought to use a pen name. I've been so secretive that Anna can just disappear when the series ends.” Kathryn was smiling, relaxed in the dying firelight.

“Ah yes, Anna Perenna.” He drew closer to her. Kathryn tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. Her fingers fidgeted until he grasped them lightly. “Why that name?”

“From the Roman legend.” Kathryn generally didn't like to explain her choice of name. It usually led to a long discussion and her sounding rather like a stodgy old professor lecturing a bored class. That was a sure conversation killer.

“Of course, but there are several about her. But which one?” She looked at him closely for a moment, a little surprised by the question. Finally she realized she was staring and looked away.

“I'm sorry, no one I've met who knows Anna and I are the same person knew there was more than one. The one where the plebeians wanted representation in the government so they holed up in the Mons Sacer intending to secede.” She laughed softly. “Something about her supporting the revolutionaries appealed to my American spirit I guess, it was the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking about a pen name. I found out later that her feast day and my birthday are the same day.”

“The first thing? The stories must have made an impression on you.” His thumb rubbed her wrist lightly. Kathryn blushed and shrugged a little.

“I grew up reading Greek and Roman myths. I have a cousin about my age and when we had sleepovers we would fight over what story to have at bedtime. I thought Cinderella was silly and she thought Persephone was weird.” Kathryn laughed softly at the memory. His closeness and the touch of those cool fingers were making it hard to be still though. She bit her lip softly.

“And that interest has followed you.” His fingers moved up her arm very lightly. Kathryn trembled slightly and hoped he didn't notice.

“You might say that.” She could hear the catch in her own voice.

“Do I make you nervous?” He seemed to be just inches from her face now.

“Oh god yes.” She replied without even thinking. She blushed deeply when she realized how it sounded. She was glad to see only amused surprise on his face. “I mean, I've spent an awful lot of time buried in dusty old books and none in candlelit rooms with intense gentlemen.”

“Something I will have to remedy.” There was no hint of a question in his voice, but Kathryn found that she didn't mind. Nor did she mind the soft lips that barely brushed hers, making her heart flutter pleasantly.

“This is going to sound like I'm trying to run away, but it feels like it's very late. I'm sorry.” He checked his watch and his eyebrows rose slightly.

“It is very late, nearly five-thirty.” He stroked her cheek softly and got up to get her cloak.

“Do you like the opera?” He held it for her and Kathryn stepped into it.

“I don't know. I've never actually been to one.” She let him wrap the fabric around her shoulders. She noticed that he held her a bit closer than he had the first night.

“Then you'll join me Friday night for La Traviata.” He waited for her to fasten the cloak and then moved her hair gently to the outside of the collar.

“I'd like that, thank you.” Kathryn shivered softly as his fingertips made light contact with the back of her neck.

“I’ll call for you Friday night at seven. If you should need to reach me,” He handed her a card. “The numbers on the front will suffice, but the number on the back is my cell.”

He waited with her for the car. Kathryn hugged herself beneath the cloak and tried not to smile too obviously on the way home.

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LaCroix was restless. It had been a simple plan, silence the writer. She was, after all, just a girl. A girl who smelled of fruit and flowers and heady innocence that brought him as close to losing control as he had been in more lifetimes than he cared to count. It would have been a simple matter to finish it when he finally established connection with her mind, but her strength intrigued him again. She had fought him even after he had overwhelmed her will. Now he was certain she didn't know the rarity of her abilities, or that she was using them. He was also certain that she knew nothing about his kind that would compromise the community. She had blundered dangerously close to the periphery, but not close enough to absolutely require her elimination. At least, not right now.

He blamed Nicholas for this hesitation, this willingness to supplant his nature. He had ordered decimations and the torture of innocents all without a flutter of conscience. He had fed freely with all the gusto of a mortal glutton and still did without a single twinge of guilt. His son's relationship with the doctor had angered him. Part of that anger was the loss of Fleur, but part of it was envy. The comfortable closeness Nicholas had found was something he wanted for himself, though he never would have admitted it.

That was the past now. This girl was the present. He had been indulging himself for close to 2,000 years now; he would look at this as another temporary indulgence. Perhaps he would bring her across; perhaps he would simply kill her when her company palled. Time would tell.

LaCroix had settled into bed and was on the edge of his dreamless sleep when he felt a slight but deliberate tug at the fragile connection he had established with her mind. What shocked him back to full wakefulness was that it had come from her to him.

This would bear further investigation. After a few keystrokes on his computer he settled back in bed and tried to find sleep again.