Sorry for this being a long chapter. It's a quick read, though, I promise.

In the night, Henry held close Veronica's arm intertwining her with his elbow as they strolled up the winding roadway.

"A new moon," Veronica breathed, relaxing at the thought of no light able to touch him. Not even the soft rays of the sun reflecting off the moon.

"The moonlight never bothered me as much as the sun," Henry noted.

Veronica lovingly sighed, "Yes, but now there's no fear of your skin being damaged further."

Henry, holding a thin black cigarette holder in his mouth, took it out and rested it between his fingers. He pressed the smoke out through a thin opening of his lips. "Why do you care so much about my condition?" He looked down at her.

Veronica paused knowing she had to be careful answering. I can't bear to see your face in such a tormented state—"I put so much effort into keeping it clean." She stated instead.

"But why?"

"Is it too much to ask to be arrogant enough to think my master's complexion is dangerously handsome?"

Henry smiled—damn you, stop smiling—He dropped his face. Feeling how close Veronica was, he gently let his arm drop from hers. "It's midnight and no light of day shall ever reach me. I don't need you so close by."

Veronica's face visibly sank along with her heart. Whenever Henry was so close to her, he could feel her heart beating—always steady—always strong. When he held his arm against hers, he could feel her heart swelling when it filled, and contract with force when the first heart sound resonated. The second heart sound reverberated in his arm when he felt her heart swell again.

So rhythmic. So steady. He could feel the beating hammer into his body.

He imagined what it would feel like to have the only organ a human could constantly feel while alive, feeling the pulse in several locations of the body including the stomach, the neck, temples, inner thigh, back of the knee, right above the elbow, the top of the foot, inside the ankle and in your wrist. Henry breathed, what a wonderfully intricate thing humans are.

He imagined his touch following the flow of her blood. Henry shook his head in contempt for himself. You fool!

"I'll go on ahead and meet you at his residence." Glowering, Henry trekked onwards.
Alone, he felt the emptiness of where Veronica once stood beside him—where her warm and soft body imprinted onto his was now cold and bare.

It's not right to have her.

When Henry reached the house, he stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at the darkened mansion. He watched as Veronica climbed the long concrete staircase to the front door.

Veronica knocked, hearing it fill the foyer.

The door opened with a cracking sound, and a young man not much younger than when Veronica's village was burned, peered outside.

"Good evening, sir." Veronica nodded her head. "My car broke down just yonder's way—" she turned and pointed up the hill "—I was wondering if I could use your telephone to ring up a friend to help us."

His big green eyes the size of the moon innocently gaped at her. "Of course. Right this way, miss."

Henry watched her walk in.

"My telephone is down this way." The young man led her down a dark hallway with the old wooden floors creaking under his weight. Veronica, however, was quite stealthy.

"Right here." He motioned to the phone box on the wall.

Veronica leaned into the nape of his neck. "Thank you, darling."

The young man flushed before turning away. Veronica looked out the French doors into a forest filled with secrets. The back porch lighting illuminated the first row of trees, darkening the rest of the forest to a black hole. She imagined herself getting lost and Henry having to go find her.

A droplet appeared on the window, and slowly, one by one, it began to rain.

Henry appeared at the door, dripping wet from the water. He pointed for her to open the back door.

"What's taking so long?" He growled.

"Just give me a minute! I have to go and ask now if you can come in because of the weather!" She whispered.

"See to it you do." He simply said. Veronica huffed as she closed the doors, pivoting towards the front hall.

"Excuse me?" Her voice bounced across the wooden entryway.

The young man in a luxurious red robe walked back into the room from behind the grand stairway. It was obvious he was coming back from his library for he still had his glasses on and a thin book between his hands.

"Yes, miss?"

"My friend is out by the car—I'm afraid he'll get wet and catch a terrible cold if he's to stay out there." Veronica managed to waver her tone just like the women in the talkies.

"Very well. Then. Where is he?" The young man strutted to the door, opening it to find Henry staring over him, dripping with water.

His clothes clung to his body, rounding all his immaculate curves and stuck up at the perfect edges accentuating them. In the light, the water allowed for a glance at his thin muscles and sparked light onto the tips of his long and lush lashes.

"May I come in?" He asked carefully. His voice was exacting but mellow with a deep root in his chest. Flicking the water from his eyelashes with several hard blinks, Henry kept his eyes squinted to keep the water out.

Water dripped from his face, streaking down like rivers across his sculpted cheeks.

The man nodded, "Yes, of course." Henry immediately filed in, pushing past the man. Together, the two of them followed the young man to his drawing room. It was dark and voided of any furniture except for a cardboard box and two chairs.

"You'll have to excuse the appearance. I'm just not much of a person to own anything—especially after my brother died in the war." He waited for a response, but when he didn't get any, he continued: "I'll see to get you something to dry off with." Henry sat down at the cardboard box table.

"Thank you, sir." Veronica nodded.

The young boy smiled and turned towards the staircase. His footsteps were audible as Henry spoke, "You do understand you don't have to regard everyone else as 'sir,' don't you?"

Veronica did so only to be polite, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for the man to get back.

"Here you go," he handed one to Veronica and the rest to Henry who ignored him. Veronica reached to grab the towels and proceeded to dry Henry off, rubbing it across his neck and into his hair.

The man sat across from Henry, staring at his scars. "May I ask what happened to you?"

Henry snarled, "Mind your own business." The light from the study flickered, sending a shadow of light down the doorway covering Henry and the man. Veronica kept rubbing the towel into Henry's hair.

"Why don't you start a fire in the fireplace, sir?" Veronica asked the boy—Henry grimaced at the way she called him sir.

"I'm Francesco," he nodded, slicking back his hair. He started the fire quite fast, inviting both Henry and Veronica over.

"The world is a mindless place. So many sinners and people with ill morals. People often expect me to have ill morals, but what do they know about me?" Henry stiffened as Veronica dropped the sopping towel into his lap. He felt the heavy garment meld into his wet pants—clothing that was plastered to his body, hanging tightly around his figure.

"Nothing, I suppose, sir," Veronica whispered to Henry as she guided him to the edge of the fireplace.

Henry and Francesco came eye to eye, and, although the young man was ecstatic for commotion, Henry held a gaze of scorn, peering down at him. The fire lit his face from below, shadowing his brow in the most hideous of ways. A dark shadow covered half his face menacingly.

"You don't have anyone to attend to you, do you, Francesco?"

He shook his head, "not anyone here, no."

"Good."

Henry lunged at Francesco, pushing him to the floor where he straddled him, placing a knee into his pelvis to hold him down. Barring his fangs, Henry sunk them deep into Francesco's neck, digging his hands into his hair and shoulder so as to hold the young man down.

Francesco groaned in pain. Wrapping his arms around his back, the young man tried squirming underneath Henry's heavy body. His body visibly stiffened as Henry sank his fangs deeper into the skin.

"Ahhhhh..."

There was a wince etched into his face which Henry shoved with the palm of his hand upwards from the edge of Francesco's jaw. The wince held steady on his face.

To move the venom from his fangs around, Henry rocked his shoulders and upper body to reinsert his teeth multiple times.

It was all rather steadily and on pace.

Henry pulled out to lick his teeth. He felt the young boy gain a new sense of freedom under his grip, forcing Henry to compress his legs and wrap them tightly around the young man. Henry smiled.

"Oh, Veronica~" He lovingly summoned her. His voice was almost seductive. "Hold him down, will you while I take hold of the rest of his blood." Sighing, Veronica shyly walked over to the boy's head and held him down.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into his ear. The boy was crying now, shaking from the venom that was now coursing through his veins. Clasping her hands gently around his head, she laid him in her lap where she ran her fingers through the thick of his hair.

His eyes raised and closed in ecstasy, reaching his lips to her chest.

When Henry finally pulled his fangs out, he got up from the young man and walked to the towels, grabbed one, and walked up the stairs to the master bedroom. Veronica followed closely behind, carrying the man in her arms with ease.

In the bathroom, Henry brushed his teeth, letting the water run red.

Gently, Veronica set Francesco down on his bed, caressing him with tenderly love. "I'm sorry." She kept repeating. The boy couldn't stop crying.

"Leave him alone!" Henry called from the bathroom.

"Why don't you put him out of his misery?" Veronica yelled.

"Put him out of his misery?" Henry questioned mockingly. "Why would I go about doing that? Do you hear yourself?" He spat out more blood.

"You've injected your venom into him! There's a monster growing inside of him as we speak, and it's because of your doing!"

Henry shrugged. "And? Is it so much in my need to worry?"

"Yes! It's your venom! Your monster!"

Henry huffed disparagingly towards the idea. "I'll have you know, some people actually want to be immortal. Some people wish they could be immortal. Immortality is a gift. You're accepting of your life aren't you?"

Veronica fumed, "yes! But it was my decision to give up my soul!" She pushed Henry out into the dark bedroom. "This man should have a decision too!"

"It's not the way of life!"

"Life?!" Veronica gasped amazingly. "Life? What does life have to do with forcing something onto someone which they can't handle?"

"The fact that the monster growing inside of him now deserves to live!"

"At the expense of his mortal life? You've your morals backwards, sir!" Veronica laughed, "what?" She mocked as Henry walked to stand over Francesco, "are you going to argue that the unborn monster has more of a life than the boy already living his life perfectly fine with a one way ticket to heaven? Are you going to strip away his freedom for innocence for your idea of morality? Because you were fully satiated, you're going to throw away the rest of his used up body?"

Henry snarled, placing his hand over the boys forehead. "It's not my fault my fangs release venom—" He threw his arms, "And besides, transformation begins the moment of impalement! There's a vampire in him, and sucking the venom out would kill it!"

He admitted to his thirst, saying it was a basic need to drink blood and that releasing the venom into the boy was not of his doing.

"The least you could do is suck the venom out so he doesn't turn!"

"No! Aren't you hearing me? I'm not sucking the venom out, It'll killing the vampire!"

Veronica began to pace.

"He's not a vampire yet! He's still mortal! Save this kids life and remove the venom!"

"ITS NOT VENOM! IT'S A LIVING VAMPIRE!" Henry spat, feeling the blood he sucked splatter from his lips. His voice rang across the room, briefly vibrating the glass and furniture.

"Why are you so bent on saving this vampire's life? Why? You don't know him! You don't care for the future of the vampire! Why?"

"Because I need to spread my seeds!" He sucked his lips, keeping the blood from dripping. "Because I would loose the power that I had over you measly fucking rodents!" He stared into Veronica's shocked look.

"Because if they had the power to prevent what I can do to them, they'll loose their fear in me." He gasped, taking in a hurried breath. "If they no longer fear me or see the power which I hold, then I would be nothing."

Weakly, Henry began to cry as he muttered:
"They would see how false a personsa I own."

Veronica, with her arms still crossed and disgust littering her face, shook her head disapprovingly, "What a sad man you are. Suck the venom out of him. Don't play with power you don't own."

"A vampire has to eat." He motioned before he turned, licking the venom out of Francisco's wound.

"And a boy shouldn't suffer!"

Muttering, Henry noted, "maybe we should ask Mr. Tweaking what he thinks about the cocoon developing inside of him. Maybe he wants to keep it!"

Henry exaggerated him wiping his mouth from the venom he purged, scrunching his nose in distaste. "I hope that makes you happy—I was planning on turning him for the past several years since his brother was sent to war, but now, I don't think he even deserves to live."

Henry passed Veronica, spitting in her ear, "I'm leaving!"

"Good!" Veronica spat back. Although she cared for his life, Veronica was more pressed about her own morals being tested, and because of that, the matter of the subject was blown far beyond the patient of the problem.