"Unlock the door," Rach says in a low voice, and then he pushes me off the roof.

My scream tears through the tense silence that settled over the graveyard now that the fighting has stopped. While I fly backwards through the swirling mist, I brace myself for the shattering impact with the gravestones far below.

As much as I now fear Ransford, I wish he would snatch me from the air like he'd grabbed the girl earlier when she was trying to jump on me from a boulder. Then again, I'd rather not have a big chunk of my neck torn out and be flung into a tree.

When my fall is arrested by strong arms hugging me tightly to a muscular chest, I look up, horrified to see Deaglan's clenched jaw and gleaming eyes. I can feel his racing heartbeat, and his eyes are black pools filled with anguish.

No! This is not good!

I'm given no chance to resist. I've barely landed when the horse he's sitting on takes off at breakneck speed, dodging trees and leaping over obstacles. Some wolves are flanking us like guards, trying but failing to keep up with the horse. Angelica Sprinkles gallops past us and disappears in the ever-thickening mist. How can they race like this when the visibility is becoming this bad? Any second now, the horse could collide with a tree.

Where is Deaglan taking me?

Is he working with Rach? This 'rescue' felt a bit too coordinated to be just luck or coincidence. I cannot go anywhere with this man. I will die if he loses the thin veneer of self-control that I can feel him battling to keep in place. Even worse, I'll willingly give myself up to him to drain me of my blood. Though I'm terrified, I still struggle not to lean into him submissively.

Why is that?

I need to jump. I'll probably get badly hurt, and after seeing how he can move, I know I stand no chance of escaping him unless he allows me, as he did this morning when he let me go. He was the one running away. Still, I have to try at least. I need to break out of the warm spell weaving around me, binding me to him.

Alaric!

He is no longer hanging around in my head; all I get in response to my heart crying out to him is silence. Either sensing my plan or hearing my thoughts, Deaglan leans over me, trapping me between his body and the horse's neck. I can feel him trembling against me, and I shut my eyes, blocking out the distorted tree ghosts flashing past dizzyingly fast. Feeling slightly queasy, I curl my fingers into the long, coarse hair of the horse's beautiful mane.

When the atmosphere changes subtly, I peek between my eyelashes to see we're leaving the forest and the thick mist behind and heading towards Slaughtaverty Manor. Gasping in fright, I hold on tighter when the horse effortlessly clears the stone wall bordering the mansion's grounds. I've never been on horseback before. I would've preferred my first ride to be a calm walk with a guide leading the horse, ready to catch me if I fell off.

Deaglan expertly steers the animal where he wants it to go, and I'm both relieved and filled with dread when I see Slaughtaverty Manor grow in size as we speed towards it. Though it probably spells safety - for now - I don't know if I can live in that mansion anymore. It's all become too strange and terrifying.

It is not home anymore.

As soon as Deaglan has slowed the horse down enough, I will jump off and run... if I survive the fall... I might steal the limo or one of the motorcycles or something, but I'm heading for Drohidskay Harbour. I'm done with this island. I'll go to Professor Griffiths and ask him if I can sleep on his couch until I get a job and a place of my own. I hate the idea of asking that of him after everything he's done for me, but what choice do I have?

Part of me still hopes I will wake up right now and feel like an idiot.

Deaglan doesn't slow his horse down; instead, he speeds up, racing towards the front of the mansion. I pinch my eyes shut again, my heart beating in time with the horse's pounding hooves. My breath catches in shock when I'm suddenly airborne as we near the front patio, and Deaglan flings me off the horse without even pausing for a moment.

Before I can utter as much as a squeak, I'm caught in gentle arms, and this time, I fling my arms around the neck of my saviour, crying like a little girl into his shoulder. Relief and distress blend into an emotional broth while the staccato of the horse's hooves fades away.

I will not be able to explain it... ever... but one moment, Alaric is standing outside the manor, cradling me to his heart, and the next, he is making himself comfortable on a couch in a private drawing room with me in his lap. I've never seen this room before and have no idea which part of the mansion we're in, and I don't care.

Alaric is here, and he's holding me. I'm safe!

"For a moment there, I thought I'd lost you," Alaric says, covering my face with kisses while he runs his hands over my arms, my neck and the back of my head. His eyes, when he looks into mine, are black pools of misery. "I thought I'd lost you," he says again, his voice thick and husky with emotion as he gently wipes the tears from my cheeks with the heel of his hand.

"Are you hurt? Is anything broken?" he asks, taking the hand clutching at his shirt in his. "I'm sorry I took so long. I called the knights out to save you and ran as fast as I could. I'm so sorry."

He ran from the harbour?!

That should take many hours. How is he already here? He's not even out of breath or drenched in sweat. Then again, he travelled from the front door to wherever 'here' is in only a few seconds. Running to the mansion from Drohidskay in less than an hour should not be too surprising.

He runs fast... too fast...

Visions of Ransford ripping heads off bodies and jumping meters into the air to grab a vampire from the lip of the mausoleum roof suddenly fill my head, and new panic chases away the peace that has started to lull my senses into comfort.

Reaching out, I lift the side of Alaric's upper lip, and he stops talking, pulling away to frown at me, half amused and half concerned.

"What are you doing?" he asks with a soft laugh.

"R-Ransford... t-teeth," I try to speak, only now realising how much I'm shaking and how scattered and chaotic my thoughts are. All my muscles are cramping, and I'm barely able to unclench the hand I'm using to touch his mouth with trembling fingers. "Rip... he just r-ripped... and B-Billy..." When my words fail me, I revert to using the hand not trapped between us to gesture frantically, trying to illustrate the frightening things I saw today.

"I'm sorry, Aubrey," Alaric smiles, stroking a hand over my hair and pressing his forehead against mine. "I truly thought you were safer now... I'm not sure what happened."

"R-Ransford is a m-monster..." I try again, sticking my finger into Alaric's mouth to feel if he has fangs too. My heart breaks hearing my words. I like Ransford.

I don't want him to be a monster.

"He's not a monster, my love," Alaric sighs, taking my hand to stop me from inspecting his teeth; his eyes are burning in mine. They are no longer black; they've regained their silver-grey now that he has his emotions under control. "Please try to remember what I told you about the curse. Please open that door."

Open that door... unlock the door...

I suck in a startled breath, reliving the terrifying moment I realized that I was falling from the mausoleum roof, and I reached for Rach. I grabbed his necklace, and the chain broke... he said something to me when he shoved me.

Unlock the door.

What door did he mean? Does he want me to smuggle him into the mansion? Is he going to visit me in my bedroom? I hope not, but still, my heart excitedly picks up speed at the thought, and I grab hold of Alaric's sleeve, closing my eyes against the confusing emotions.

"Aubrey?" Alaric prompts, looking concerned again when I open my eyes.

"I remember what you told me," I say, trying to focus on the memories trickling into freedom. "We were... uhm... lying in your bed?"

That cannot be right! Can it?

"Yes."

At Alaric's confirmation, the wall around that specific memory breaks, and my brain floods with disorderly pieces of information on everything he told me.

"The curse took Ransford!" I finally exclaim as understanding hits me, and my throat closes up with sorrow. "Why now? Why did it take him now? Surely, he went through puberty years ago. The man is almost 30... right?"

My heart breaks at the thought of Ransford becoming mindlessly cruel and impossible to communicate with. I'll never see his mischievous smile again or hear his shameless flirting. His kindness... How is Saoirse going to take it? She is especially fond of him.

"Maybe there's still hope for him," I say, looking up into Alaric's eyes, begging for reassurance. "I felt his emotions, real emotions that had nothing to do with blood lust. There must be hope!"

"No, no, Aubrey, Ransford is fine," Alaric assures me, laying the palm of his hand against my cheek, calming my erratic breathing with a whisper-soft kiss. "Yes, he went through puberty years ago. He had a rough time of it, but he made it through."

I'm trying to recall everything Alaric told me, but the memory is fuzzy and disjointed. Still, I like hearing that Ransford is fine, though he definitely didn't look fine to me.

"Remember, I told you that when the curse kicks in, some children die, some remain completely normal, just with a few enhancements, while others - for lack of a better term - turn."

"Yes, I remember." I do... bits and pieces. I wouldn't want to write an exam on it.

"Some of those who turn loose everything that makes them who they are..." he swallows, closing his eyes against memories that are clearly breaking his heart, and when I let go of his sleeve to touch his cheek, he opens his eyes. The lost look in his eyes breaks my heart. "They become like feral animals. Others lose their conscience and  become ruthless and cunning, driven by a desire to dominate and conquer."

"Ransford..."

"Oh, no, love. Sure, in many ways, he is a feral animal, but only because he is untamable and annoying," he smiles fondly. "But he is still Ransford. He is compassionate and dedicated. He turned, but he retained all the qualities that make him who he is, including his conscience. He is naturally passionate, so when he is angry... well... I suppose you had a demonstration of that today. He will do anything to protect the people he cares about, and he cares about you."

Yes, Ransford spoke to me. I heard him, but I was too freaked out to listen to what he said.

He didn't feel feral or cold-hearted despite the things he did. He talked to Rach and Billy. I saw that; I heard that. The vampire creatures didn't talk. They didn't even have a range of emotions. I should've realised that Ransford was not like them, but his sudden change blew my mind to such an extent that I wasn't thinking clearly.

Ransford isn't a monster.

Like the other knights, he only attacked the feral vampires... Weren't they his family? If he could tear his own family members apart like that, he might be a monster after all...

"It must be upsetting to slaughter your own family like that." I think I understand the deep sorrow I experienced coming from Ransford. His hands might've been cruel, but his heart wasn't. I have too many questions about this, and they all try to spill from my lips at the same time. "How did they escape? You said they could not stand the light; it wasn't even night yet. I also didn't expect there to be so many of them. How are there so many of them? Did they survive through all the ages? Surely, they're not all your children or siblings?"

None of them seemed older than their late 20s.

"No, Aubrey, those poor souls were not our family. They're not quite the same as our feral family members. They're wilder, not as sensitive to light, and they're also - fortunately - not as strong. Until recently, they were people. They were deliberately turned into... that... by draining them to near death and then feeding them blood from-"

"Am I going to become like that?!" I gasp in horror, grabbing hold of Alaric's shirt again, bunching the material in my fist, as fear twists in my gut."

"No!" he hurries to calm my anxieties. "No, love."

"But I drank your blood... didn't I?"

"Yes, but my blood is healthy, and so is Ransford's," he explains patiently. "It has to be blood from one of our lost children."

"One  of them got out and turned a bunch of people?" I wince at the thought, my toes curling with fear. A girl got into my room once; surely, it could happen again.

"No. Someone with intelligence and control who knows exactly what they're doing made them," Alaric says, his words causing my throat to close up. "Our lost ones kill; they don't turn people."

The idea of someone going around doing that to people terrifies me, and I lower my head against Alaric's shoulder, drawing comfort from his closeness.

"Yes, a girl did make it into your room and almost killed you," he addresses my silent concern, his honesty startling me. "She wasn't one of ours," he swallows, struggling to tell me about this. He is probably afraid that I will lose the last shred of calm I have left.

He is not wrong to worry; I am barely holding on.

"Liam immediately injected you with the serum we use on the Knight members to place you under my protection. The feral members of our family won't go near you... the others won't be able to bite you."

"You're bound to all the members of the Knight?"

"No, they're just under our protection," he says, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable. "Unfortunately, the serum made it easier for the bond to happen when it was initiated."

I don't understand, but my head is too full of conflicting and confusing information to handle more right now. I need a bath and a bed... probably in that order, but I never want to leave Alaric's arms.

"How did she get in?" I ask the one question I cannot stand without knowing the answer. "Did someone let her in?"

"They find their way into the mansion's walls from time to time," Alaric swallows. "We don't normally care about that. If they're here, they're not out there where they can harm people. We care now. We've been clearing the walls, locking it all down at the sources."

Sources?

"She spoke to me," I tell him, pulling my head away from the shoulder it had collapsed on to look up at him in confusion. "If she was feral, how could she speak?"

"I'm sorry, Aubrey," Alaric sighs, his grey eyes growing black again with sadness. "What you heard was her last coherent thoughts. That girl was freshly turned. Once they're given the tainted blood, they start to turn, but it doesn't complete until they bite someone and feed off their blood."

I just wanted to hold him, but I am so hungry.

"She killed a baby," I say, my voice breaking on a sob. "Roisin's little boy. I saw him, and I couldn't do anything to help him."

Alaric doesn't say anything; he simply folds his arms around me, making comforting sounds while he strokes my hair and pats my back, and I cry fresh tears into his shoulder.

I cannot stand it when children are harmed.

"They can still hurt me," I mutter when I finally manage to get my emotions under control again. I'm thinking about the girl I ran into in the secret corridor and the one dragging me by my hair.

"For now," he agrees. "Until we finalize the bond. You should continue training with us."

I should, and from now on, I'll take it a lot more seriously. I'm not Tomb Raider or some fictional female with the strength of two men and a horse, like all the females in modern movies. I'm a normal garden-variety woman. I'm comfortable reading a book or appraising an antique desk.

I'm an antiquarian, not an Amazon.

I don't want to wield weapons and kick butt; I want to lie here, safely in Alaric's arms forever. I'll do what I have to do, though. I don't ever want to feel as helpless again as I did today running through the forest. It will take years of training for me to be able to fight like the Knight women I saw today. I want to be able to move like Alaric's son.

"Cianán..." I whisper. I have no idea what I should say or how to ask the many questions I have about the son I didn't know Alaric had, so I just leave the name hanging between us.

"He didn't turn," Alaric states, answering at least one of my most important questions. "He is like Aine. They emerged from the puberty battles with enhanced speed, strength, and a few other changes, but they don't have fangs, rage, or the occasional blood-lust."

Vegetarian compared to the rest of them... I would laugh, but...

"You do, though... you have them..." I saw his fangs. I'm sure I did. He was threatening Deaglan, the brother he loves more than he loves himself, for my sake.

"Yes."

"You haven't bitten me." I'm just as sure of that fact.

"No."

"Do you want to? Like D-Deaglan."

"Yes... and no. I can control it, as can Ransford. Deaglan has been weakened for a very long time," he says, brushing a hand through his hair, thinking about it. "It's similar to an addiction. You know how sometimes people are badly injured and are prescribed strong painkillers, then when they're healed and no longer need it, they are sometimes addicted to the medication and have to battle to overcome it? It's something like that."

Great, now I'm a narcotic for a vampire with a raging addiction.

"He will overcome it. He is tough and determined. He might be a shadow of his former self right now, but he'll find his way back."

Alaric falls silent, holding me cradled against his roughly beating heart for a while, and I can feel the longing for his brother pulsing with every beat. When he speaks again, his voice is once again thick with suppressed emotion.

"I'm sorry he hurt you, Aubrey. He is a good man. Much nicer than I am."

I push myself up straighter and stroke my quivering fingertips over his cheek.

"How can anybody be nicer than you?" I hear myself ask a question I never thought I would ask the man who greeted me with such coldness on my arrival on the island. Alaric laughs softly, pulling a couple of stray leaves from my hair, and when he pulls me closer, and his lips find mine over and over, seeking and giving comfort, I melt against him, tangling my fingers in his thick hair.

Feeling the softness of his lips on mine and his gentle hands stroking my hair, I realise one thing more clearly than anything I've experienced today.

This is home.

Home is in Alaric's arms. All the pain and fear melt away in the taste of his lips and the fragrance of his skin. Bit by bit, I stop shaking with terror. I'm now trembling with the delicious vibrations of comfort and well-being... the kind of contentment and bliss that will get me killed if I don't snap out of it.

I don't want to snap out of it.

I do, however, because Alaric tears his lips from mine when someone clears their throat near us, and there is Leopold, balancing his silver tray in one hand and carrying a blanket folded neatly over his other arm. He hands Alaric the blanket and places the tray on a small table.

"Thank you, Leopold," Alaric says, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, making me momentarily acutely aware of my state of undress. I've been so out of it that I forgot that my shirt is in tatters, barely covering me.

"Have some tea to warm you up," Alaric coaxes me gently, holding the cup to my trembling lips, and I carefully take a sip. I'm grateful for the help because my right hand is barely functional, holding onto the blanket to the best of its abilities. My left hand is buried in the warm folds, and unwilling even to relax the fist it's curled in.

"This is Moira's tea," I say after a few careful sips, enjoying the warmth spreading through my battered body. I'm surprised to have this tea here in the Manor.

"Yes, Mrs. Doyle's tea is very good for nerves," Leopold tells me. "Is there anything else, Your Grace?"

"No, thank you, Leopold," Alaric nods. "Liam is on his way."

"Indeed he is, Sir," with that, Leopold gives a tight bow and leaves the room while Alaric continues to help me drink the tea.

The comforting, warm liquid goes a long way to calm my raging nerves, but it will be a long time before the unsettling events fade into the background enough for me to stop shaking completely. I can feel more tears well up in my throat as I remember being dragged and men playing ball with a human head. I only feel better when Alaric puts the cup on the tray and wraps his arms around me, rocking me like a baby.

"Diarmuid is evil," I mutter, thinking about all the nonsense he told me. I'm not being fair, I know, because a lot of what he told me was true, just in different ways than the actual words he used. He couldn't exactly just say: 'Alaric wanted a man for the job because he and his brothers like blood, and yours is specifically yummy.'

Don't they like male blood?

"Yes, I'm afraid he is a bit evil," Alaric chuckles. "It comes with the territory."

I'm unaware of Liam entering the room until he kneels beside me, puts his medical bag on the floor next to him, and pulls out a syringe. I automatically check his warm smile for fangs, even though I know that they would not always be present.

I should've checked Leopold as well. It's good to know who might want to bite me and who won't... even if they can't. From now on, I'm only hanging out with Aine and Cianán... and Alaric... even if he could bite me too.

"I would like to give you something to help with the shock," Liam tells me, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I don't want to forget again," I protest, glaring at the syringe in his hands. "I need to remember these things, even if they scare me, or I'll run into trouble again."

Technically, I would've run into today's trouble whether I remembered the curse or not. Perhaps I wouldn't have gone to the village alone. I could tell that Billy was nervous about letting me leave, and I now understand why.

"It's not me or the medication that makes you forget, Aubrey," Liam tells me patiently. "It's you. You need to let the memories out. Don't shut them in."

Unlock the door.

Surely, that was not what Rach meant. He just met me today; he wouldn't know that I keep forgetting everything. Well, Cianán knew, so the news seemed to travel fast through the Slatherty grapevine.

Alaric has been so patient with me. I kissed him into oblivion and slept in his arms just to forget all about it by morning. That was the ultimate in ghosting someone, and all he broke was a pencil.

"It's a mild sedative, all-natural ingredients; I promise," Liam explains and looking at his face and the concern in his eyes, I let my right arm out of the blanket for him to inject me. I could use something to make my racing thoughts calm down and stop the tremors that keep running through my muscles at intervals.

"Do... do you also have t-teeth," I ask him, frustrated that I'm shivering almost too much to hold still for the injection. The air feels too cold on my bare arm now that I've been snuggled in the blanket for a few minutes.

"Do you mean my own as opposed to false?" he asks, grinning widely, showing off his set of healthy teeth.

"She means fangs," Alaric explains, tucking my arm back into the blanket when Liam is finished.

"Oh! No," Liam says. "When I was younger, I thought they were really cool and wanted some too, but... uhm... I'm over it now."

"You didn't turn during puberty?"

"What?" he frowns, and then his face clears up, but his eyes become veiled. "No, I'm not a Slatherty by blood."

"Oh! Of course! I'm sorry," I mutter, feeling heat flush my cheeks. I don't know how Liam feels about the fact that he was adopted. Not even a feral vampire could drag my ability to blab things and poke other people's pain out of me, and she tried really hard to pull out all my hair, at least.

I now remember Alaric telling me that Liam was adopted when we were talking about the curse.

"No, nothing to be sorry about," Liam smiles, giving me an affectionate pat on the head. "Becoming a proxy Slatherty was the best thing ever to happen to me. May I give you a quick once-over to check your vitals? Do you have any injuries you want me to take care of?"

I'm about to say I'm fine and don't need any care when I catch the distraught look in his eyes and how they slide away from mine, unable to look at me in the direct way they usually do. I can tell that he is upset. His hands are trembling very slightly. Not enough to hamper him in his work or to be too obvious; I almost didn't notice it.

"I think I'm fine, but please take a look," I tell him, allowing him to set his mind at ease. "I don't think I have any broken bones," I assure him when he pulls his stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from the medical bag. "The only thing that hurts a bit is my ankle, but it's not too bad."

While Liam listens to my heartbeat and lungs and takes my blood pressure, I almost laugh, thinking about how absurd it is to sit in my employer's lap while his adopted brother gives me a medical examination. There are probably some smutty scenes in books and porn movies that start off like this.

I swallow the threatening laughter with a wince when he declares my vitals acceptable and moves his attention to my ankle.

"This could've been a bad sprain," he tells me, gently lowering my dirty foot onto a cushion he placed beside Alaric on the couch. Seeing it makes me wince again, this time, for the cushion. "It's a little swollen, but nothing that some ice won't take care of. Besides, it should be fine in an hour or so at the rate your injuries heal."

"I think we got all of them. How is she?"

I look up, startled at the voice speaking from the doorway and involuntarily shrink against Alaric when I see Ransford standing at the door, looking every bit as blood-stained and dishevelled as he did in the forest. He is not showing his fangs, and he is just standing there like a normal human being, but I can never un-feel the power oozing from his every pore.

"Physically, she's fine," Liam assures him. "She just needs to rest."

"Perhaps you should get cleaned up first," Alaric suggests, taking the hand, clawing at his shirt and giving it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. Seeing the hurt on Ransford's face when I glance at him again, I wish I could undo my reaction, but I know that he could walk in here a hundred times looking like that, and I will react the same way each time.

Well, until I get used to it.

I'm about to call out to him, but he is already gone, and I regret that I'm mostly relieved about that. I'm struggling to figure out what exactly it is that I feel because whatever Liam injected me with, combined with exhaustion, is dragging my eyes closed, and I have to fight to stay awake.

I'm too scared to fall asleep!

Liam carefully packs all his instruments back in the bag and rises from the floor with it, looking down at me sombrely, his handsome features a mask of melancholy.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt, Aubrey," he breathes. "You're safe now, I promise. Ransford will never hurt you."

I feel safe in Alaric's arms, but that feeling of well-being is in jeopardy when his body tenses against mine and his heartbeat speeds up.

"Liam?" he says in a low, suspicious voice.

"She might become drowsy," Liam tells him.

I'm already extremely drowsy, but I'm too sleepy to tell him that.

"We should get her cleaned up and settled in for the night," he continues, sounding like an actual doctor. All business. "I would like to run an IV with electrolytes and glucose to give her a boost. I'll get it ready."

Alaric doesn't try to question him again, his arms tightening around me as we watch Liam cross the floor to the door with shoulders bowed as if he is carrying a weight too heavy to bear.

At the door, he stops, lowers his bag to the ground and, turning back, hurries over to me to throw himself on his knees again.

"I am so sorry, Aubrey," he chokes. "I care about you so much. I never meant you harm, but I did this to you. It was me. I'm the reason you're here. I brought you to Peace Haven."

~~~