From: v100ra7t@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (O.G.)
Newsgroups: alt.vampyres
Subject: REPOST (altered):  *** Gothic ***
Keywords: Johann and Marisa, vampires, obsessions
Date: 10 Nov 92 08:34:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41


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_GOTHIC_                                                 by Olivia Granvill

PROLOGUE -- 1989
There was something truly sinister in the air around us, a lingering evil
pervading the night.  It was as tangible as the tall buildings that lined the 
city sidewalks, as the lit streetlamps that stood in the night like giant 
sentries alongside our path to illuminate the blanket of snow covering 
everything from the pavement to the parked cars along the side of the road.  
The snow had yet to be cleared, and we could hear it being crushed underfoot 
with each quickened step we took.  I could neither name the sensed evil, or 
explain it, but nonetheless, I had no doubt it was there.
    "Are you cold?"  Johann asked me softly as we walked holding gloved
hands.  His concern for me warmed me, even as the cold night and the 
lurking danger combined to freeze me to my core.
    "We're almost there."  I answered breathlessly, my teeth chattering.
    Without breaking stride, Johann pulled me closer toward him, into his
welcoming arms.
    "You're freezing, Marisa!"  His hands briskly rubbed my back through my 
black wool coat.
    "It's not me.  It's the weather."
    Spoken lightly, my words had been an attempt to elicit a smile from my
brother, but a glimpse at his countenance revealed to me that Johann's 
expression remained intense as we strode resolutely past endless buildings.  
My gaze returned to our way ahead, where it stayed, but I knew my brother's 
eyes were continuously scanning over the area, warily attuned for any sign 
of trouble.
    We soon reached a corner where the streetsigns told us we were on 
Bleecker Street.  Despite the cold and the late hour, there were automo-
biles and pedestrians enough around us on the streets, as people walked on
the sidewalk, whether in groups, pairs, or alone.  Because I was chilled and 
hurrying, I did not look to see how these people were dressed, or what they 
looked like, though such observations were usually of interest to me, 
especially here.  Greenwich Village was still so alive at night when all the 
rest of the time zone had long since gone to bed for the night.  Perhaps that
was why we stayed there; it was comforting to know that there were so many 
other people who shared our hours, and some of our habits.
    There was little comfort to be derived from the company this night,
however.  For all the people around us on the streets and in the entire
metropolis, we were still very much alone, my brother and I.  Our quickened 
steps was for the large part because, without having to express the thought 
aloud, we both sensed the peril that lay in wait for us, and us alone.  We 
both knew that our there was nothing on this earth that could or would help 
us against the Presence that sought us.  We had only one another.

* BOOK ONE *
CHAPTER I:  JOHANN WILD -- The Nineteenth Century
    Karlsburg was a small village located amidst the mountains of Austria.
Rather desolate in appearance, it was small and sparsely populated, and 
surrounded on all sides by ominously towering mountains and hills.  During the
early part of our lives, before fate was to play her cruel hand against us, we
grew up in a little farm there: my parents, my two uncles, my sister, and 
myself.  In the first two years of my life, I was a quiet child who always 
seemed pensive and sad, and never spoke or expressed happiness; indeed, my 
family first feared I was mute, and drew conjectures as to my melancholia.
Then, my sister Marisa was born two and half years after me in 1856, and one
of the things I remember from my childhood was that in that first moment I 
laid eyes on her, I smiled because I felt such happiness.  In that moment, 
Marisa captured all of my heart.  I adored her when I saw her, and her smiles 
became more precious than all the riches in the world could have been.  It was
then I started to speak, and she was the first person to whom I spoke.  She 
had been sickly as a babe, and I remember sitting near her for almost all of 
her first six years of life, praying for her nightly and entertaining her when
she was awake, hoping to see her face light up, or hear the sound of her 
laughter.  Though my uncles teased me about it, I knew that no one disapproved
of my protective nature over my sister.  Even had they not approved, I could
not have been otherwise.  I loved her too much.
    Marisa was a charming child, cheerful and bright, and she was adored 
by all who met her.  Whereas I was considered the sullen and brooding one,
the reserved brother, she was friendly and a very pleasant sort of person to
know.  And she was also very pretty, having begun as a lovely baby and 
growing and into a beautiful young woman.  We both had fair hair and even-
toned, light complexions.  Both of us had large brown eyes that held innocence
and youth in those days.  The townspeople would compliment my mother on her 
children because we were both considered very attractive, but I believe 
Marisa's personality made her even more beautiful.  I always felt jealousy 
when people were affected by her, not because I wanted the attention to 
myself for I loathed and avoided attention, but because I did not want other 
people to pay her attention, or take up hers.
    In school and Church, there were boys who did notice her, and at first,
my uncles Peter and Andreas had to chase off a few of the more presumptuous
older boys who dared try to peep in at my sister at night.  Though that
pursuit was soon abandoned as the boys matured, I took over the entire role 
of guardian for my sister soon after.  I suppose I became possessive of her
in wanting to be protective.
    Because I was quiet, I had few friends, and was close to no one other
than my sister.  She was the one person I either felt the desire or the will
to speak to, and I knew I had long since earned her trust that she would
confide in no one but me.  She chose to stay with me in the schoolyard and 
churchyard, though at first I told her gruffly to go play with the other 
girls.  Thus, we were devoted to one another our entire lives.
    There was one boy in the town who became quite smitten by Marisa in her
fourteenth year.  His name was Friederich, and he was the son of the mayor.
I saw this before anyone else, but it soon became apparent that he was 
finding any reason to be with Marisa.  He would initiate visits under pretense 
of calling on my parents, but it was always with Marisa that he spent the 
bulk of his time.  Friederich was a bit older than me, and Marisa did not 
know how to respond.  She was flattered, but flustered because she was not 
interested in him.  My family liked him well enough, thinking it a fine
match for my sister with the attractive young mayor's son, but I felt intense 
hatred of him as I had never felt before.  However, even I would not have 
wanted him to receive the blow that fate dealt him.
    One Sunday, he visited after Mass, having arrived in a carriage.  It was
summertime, and he asked Marisa to take a stroll with him nearby.  She
accepted quietly, and they were gone for almost an hour before returning. 
In that time, I sat silently on my bed, staring at the floor and sulking
in my emotions of jealousy, anger, and hatred.  I saw Friederich as an
intruder and a threat to the peaceful life my sister and I had known
together.  We had created our own world of solitude and dreams over the
years in our remote farm with our uncles and parents.  I did not want to
have this world invaded upon.  I knew it was childish rage I felt, but none-
theless, I thought it horrible of him to come and try to take her away.
    When Friederich returned with Marisa, it was getting late, and he said
he thought it best to bid adieu.  I was sullen with Marisa later, and rather
harsh and cynical in my remarks to her when she tried to draw me out.
    We retired in that tensed state that night.  But, by noon the next day,
all my anger toward Marisa, and even to Friederich, had completely dissipated.
News was spreading rapidly in our small village that Friederich had not
returned home that night, and later that his maimed corpse had been found 
near the woods, gruesomely mutilated.  It was rumored that the head had been 
severed from the body.
    Marisa wept, and though I felt a twinge of anger at her for grieving for
Friederich, I was too stunned to be angry for long.  In fact, the entire town 
was shocked and unsettled, and most everyone was dissatisfied with the accounts
of a wild man-eating animal in the vicinity.  But no one could offer any other 
explanation, and nobody else could be blamed for such inexplicable grisliness.
    But Friederich's was not the only murder.  Over the course of the next
two years, there were eleven other such murders, not only in Karlsburg, but 
in two of the neighboring towns, as well.  The victims were for the most
part young men, and it was feared that I should become the next victim, though
this did not concern me nearly so much as it did Marisa.  But besides the
murders, there were also several unexplainable disappearances, and these 
were usually people without families or homes, and as for how many of these 
took place, no one could readily say.  Each incident occurred during the
night and each time brought with it much growing anxiety and greater fear, 
for each crime was even more bizarre and unsettling than the previous one; the
viciousness only increased with each successive murder.  Because of these 
incidents, in which the grisly evidence was always left lying along the road 
near trees, the villages issued serious warnings that no one was to leave 
their homes after dark, and the townspeople took heed, in fear for their 
lives...and their souls.  The few who did not listen were the ones who 
became the next to fall victim.
    The night became a time to fear, and a Presence had made itself felt,
terrorizing the region at night.  Danger and dread became more than merely
words in our vocabulary.  No one could say what the menace was, for it was
clearly not human for some of the feats it was apparently able to accomplish
in its dealings with the victims--one victim was thrown into a tree ten
meters high and another was ripped limb from limb--and this was what truly
frightened us the most.  The more inexplicable and mysterious the crimes 
became, the more terrified we became.
    In the year I was to turn nineteen, more tragedy struck, this time of a
more personal nature.  That winter, both my father and Uncle Peter fell ill 
to pneumonia in the winter, and they soon succumbed after days of wasting
away to coughs and fevers.  In the spring of that year, my heartbroken mother 
too died, passing away peacefully in her sleep.  Those who survived were left 
bereft and deeply grieving.  For months, we were in mourning, and what little 
joy that had been left in our lives was gone.
    But then, reality set in.  We needed to pay for the upkeep of the farm, 
and for our own sustenance.  Because the farm was normally worked by four 
grown men, it was too much work for two, one of whom was still growing.  
Because this was our situation, Uncle Andreas decided to leave for Vienna,
where he hoped to procure work and to be able to summon my sister and myself 
to live with him.
    Meanwhile, with the provisions left on the farm, Marisa and I were left
to fend for ourselves on the farm for what we estimated would be a month or 
so.  This did not please any of us, but for all of us to travel into the
city was impractical, and possibly even more dangerous from the stories we
had heard of urban life.  Marisa had grown extremely frightened of the nights
and looked to me for reassurance, but deep down, I was as frightened as she.
Still, I vowed to myself I would protect her with my life, and with that
vow, I set aside my fears.
    The first few days alone were peaceful, almost pleasant in its calm.  
We established routines for getting chores done.  I took on most of the work.
though she resisted and tried to take on more chores for herself.  Because 
we were not trying to raise a harvest, there were few major chores to be
done.  The minor tasks we took on consisted of tending to the few animals we 
had left after bartering most of our livestock for provisions and money, and 
looking after the upkeep of the small farm; in truth, there were merely little
insignificant chores that we performed more for the purpose of employment than
for any real necessity.  When these were done, the day proceeded at a more 
leasurely pace.  But, as constant reminders of our recent misfortune, we had 
the crosses erected in the back yard that served as headstones for the three 
graves.  Every morning and evening, we went to the gravestones and offered 
each soul a prayer and a handful of wildflowers.
    In those days, I found a melancholy sort of peace.  The threats of the
mysterious murderer were forgotten, and we were sure to retire before 
sundown.  Since our mother had died, Marisa had taken to sharing my bed with
me--
    "I'm afraid you'll leave me in your sleep like Mama did." she told me as
she cuddled against me the first night after having entered my bed as I was
falling asleep.  "I want to be here with you, so that you won't leave me, or 
if you have to go, then you'll take me with you."
    --and, once Uncle Andreas left, we readily sought each other's embraces 
in the night as solace and comfort for the long, dark and lonely nights.  In
one sense, we had become all that we had in the world and we clung to one 
another fervorously.
    Yet, in the middle of one night, I awoke alone in my bed.  The night had 
fully fallen, and the crescent moon was enmeshed in a starlit sky, outside 
my window.  Concerned that she would go off alone during the night, I left 
the bed and set about searching for Marisa, wondering whether she had gone to 
the outhouse, or for a drink of water.  I searched the rooms of the farm-
house, calling her all the while, but she was not in any of the rooms.
    "Marisa!"  My voice grew louder as my concern intensified, and as the 
dreaded image of the gravemarkers struck me, I leapt out the back door.  As
I stood out in the chilly night air, I could discern by the crosses Marisa in 
her frilly white nightgown, her pale blond hair blowing in a breeze that was 
disturbing nothing else.  Beside her stood a tall figure all in black, from 
top hat to cloak to shoes, whose very presence froze me.
    I wanted to scream her name, but my voice stuck in my throat, and as 
chills tore through my body, I was immobilized, helpless before the presence
of the man, whose appearance I could barely see.  
    I had never seen him before in my life, yet there was something start-
lingly familiar about his demeanor, his presence.  He was a tall, thin, and 
elegant figure in black, and I could see his pale handsome face, the ebony
hair with the silvering temples.
    All I could do was watch and listen to what was happening, unable to act.
    "How did you know my name?  Who are you?" she spoke in a soft, trembling 
voice, seemingly oblivious to my presence in the yard.
    "I am known as Valerien."  His voice was deep, and very compelling.
    "What are you doing here?"
    "What are *you* doing here, Marisa?  You should be inside.  It's cold and
very late, and yet you are standing out here in your nightgown."
    I could see the effect he had on her.  His luring voice and gentle words 
were subtly but visibly gathering over her senses, captivating her. 
    Her voice grew softer, dreamy.  "I thought...I thought I would find my 
family.  I...I dreamt..."
    "You dreamt that they would be standing out here by the graves, that they 
had arrived as angels and were calling to you."
    "Yes!  Oh, but how did you know?  How could you have known?"
    "Because, it is my duty to know these things."
    "I don't understand."
    "But you do, Marisa."
    In a naively innocent burst of hope, "Are you an angel?"
    "I am your angel.  I watch over you, and have been since you were born,
Marisa.  I have guarded you, and I know all about you.  Your life was my
destiny."
    "Oh!  Are you really an angel?  Can it be?"
    "It can, because it is."
    "It's as I've prayed all those times."
    "Your prayers were heard, Marisa.  Your family loved you very much; they
wanted the very best for you.  And now I have come to take care of you.  I 
will watch over you forever, and you will always be at my side."
    "And Johann?  Will he be with me, too?"
    "No, my beautiful child.  Only you will come with me."
    "But, I cannot live without him.  What will I do without him?"
    "He will be better off remaining here.  He cannot go where we shall go. 
You will have me, and I will be whatever you want of me: father, brother,
companion, mentor, guardian,..."  She had turned away, but he reached for her
chin to turn her face back toward him.  "I am your angel, Marisa.  You don't
know how long I've watched you, and awaited this moment when you will become
mine.  I saw you in your crib and knew then I would have you at my side.  
Angels weep with joy when they look upon you, Marisa."
    Her voice grew fearful.  "But, what must I do?  What is expected of me?"
    "Trust me, and listen to me.  Give me, and me alone, your soul and heart.
Accept me as your guardian, your safekeeper and master.  Think only of me, 
and banish all other thoughts from your mind.  And when you have given your-
self entirely, then close your eyes."
    And as I watched in agonized horror, Marisa's eyelids slowly lowered in
the moonlight.  She stood with her hands held out before her, as though to
offer them for his taking.
    In a sudden movement, he grasped her hands and pulled her toward him, 
and his mouth descended upon her throat with an animalistic fury that stunned
me in its vigor and passion.
    A vampire!  I blanched at the realization.  She let out a shrill, 
horrified scream of pain and terror, but he grasped her tightly to still her.
    I wanted so much to move, to stop him, hurt him, kill him, but I could 
not even utter a sound and wept in my helplessness.
    Her scream died down.  I could see her swoon, and his hold changed to 
one intended for steadying her.  Long and hard he drank at her, and I could 
see his hunger, his greed, his lust.  He took blood mercilessly from my
sister, as he had killed in our region.  Her voice faded to small whimpers,
as her strength ebbed from her.  She was no longer able to stand, and it
was only from his powerful grip that she remained upright.  Her body was
limp, her breathing grew labored.
    Then, he finally finished and when I thought the horror had ended, he
pulled away only long enough to open his jacket and shirt, and with a
dagger he had on him, stab himself in the chest.  As thick, dark blood 
spurted out, his hand pressed the back of her head, bringing her mouth to 
the open wound on his chest, and my weakened sister drank the blood in 
desperation, knowing only that she needed to restore sustenance into her 
own body.  She drank almost as long and hard as he had, her body starved.
    Oh, the despair that washed over me in drowning waves at that point.  I
cannot even begin to describe the anguish I felt as I saw this happen to her.
I knew what her drinking that blood would do to her.  Everyone knew this, for
we had all grown up with the same tales of monsters and fiends.  Had he only 
drank from her and let her die, she would rest in peace--and given the 
choices, that's what I would much have preferred for her--but now, she was 
doomed to become as he was.  A renewed urge to scream clutched me.  I wanted
to destroy him for polluting her body and damning her soul!
    Sated, she fell back, and collapsed onto the ground, her body exhausted.
    The vampire reached down to lift her, but at that point, as inexplicably
as it had been taken, my will to move came flooding back, no longer re-
strained by hypnosis of the vampire, and powered by desperation and despair, 
rage and loathing as I had never felt before, I sprang at the intruder, who 
had ravaged my poor sister only a few yards away.  I grabbed a shovel that 
lay near me and swung it at the figure in black, hitting him on the shoulder.
    Already weakened by his self-inflicted wound and by Marisa's drinking
from him, his new wound caused him to stagger back.  I struck again, this
time for his chest, causing another wound, though this time much smaller.
    The vampire called Valerien turned to me with the wrath of Hell blazing
in his eyes.  I saw his mesmerizing green eyes, as he grabbed the collar
of my shirt and hurled me against the wall of the farmhouse.  Attacked by
an onslaught of incredible, debilitating agony, I vaguely became aware of 
my skull cracking open, and a gush of liquid spilling from the wound.
    "Marisa!"  I tried to call, before I blacked out.

CHAPTER II -- Promises
    I regained consciousness some time later.  I was still lying against
the wall of the farmhouse, but Marisa was now at my side now.  She was 
sobbing, her hands covering her face as she sat on the ground beside me.
    "'Leez," I called through an extremely dry mouth.
    Startled, she looked to me with joyous surprise on her face.  "Johann!"
    "The vampire...where...?"
    The joy left her expression as she grew somber.  "I don't know.  He was 
gone when I awoke."
    "Remember...?"
    "Yes, I remember what happened.  I know I drank his blood, and I know
what will happen to me."
    There were tears in both our eyes.
    "Marisa,..."  I tried to turn my head away to hide my tears.
    "No, don't move.  You're bleeding so much."
    I knew I was bleeding profusely and had been for a while, for even the 
basic acts of speaking and opening my eyes brought with it great pain and
overwhelming dizziness.  It took inhuman effort merely to keep from succumb-
ing to the oblivion which threatened to engulf me--no, invited itself to 
steal over me, for compared to the present agony, oblivion became more and
more welcoming.  The wound in my head must have been very large and deep.  
I felt my own strength flooding out of me.
    "I don't think,..."  I did not think I would be able to endure for too 
much longer, but I could not find the words to tell her.
    Softly she began, "I know you're dying, Johann.  I could do nothing to
stop the blood flow, and you've lost too much.  But I now have the power to 
keep you from dying.  Ever.  In my blood runs the blood of the Undying, and 
I can give you some to keep you with me, forever."
    She sought my eyes as she continued.  "You promised me you'd never leave 
me when I came to your bed all those nights.  Now, keep to your promise, 
Bruder.  I need you, and I never want you to be without you.  I love you!"
    "I would keep you with me forever if I could."  I moved my lips to form
the words, no longer able to speak.  "I would make you mine forever."
    "You can, Johann.  I implore you: do it."
    "For you, anything."
    And as I watched, she took from her side a knife which she must have
brought out from the kitchen and with hardened resolve, slashed the palm
of one of her hands.  As the blood flowed freely, I used the last of my
strength--for I knew this would be the last movement I would otherwise have
been able to make--and brought her hand to my mouth.
    The blood tasted sweet and warm, not as bitter and salty as I remem-
bered blood to be.  The cut she had made was deep, though not so deep that 
the flow of the liquid would be strong enough to choke me.  My sips began 
gently, tentatively, before I found the strength and will to drink harder.  
It's very difficult for me to try to put into words how it felt that first
time I was drinking blood.  It was as though a vicious and longfelt thirst
that I had not even realized I felt was finally being quenched, as though
my body were receiving something it had yearned for since I was born.  The
taste was bittersweet, the liquid smooth descending my throat.  I felt
strength return to me, and felt the pains subside.  I felt dizziness, but
this time it was more of a euphoria, an overwhelming delight.  And all the
while, I was drinking from my sister's veins.
    Even when I felt sated, I held her hand, bringing it down to my chest
where I held it.  I breathed deeply and closed my eyes as strange but not
unpleasant sensations possessed me.  Marisa cradled my upper body in her
embrace as she moved closer to me.  The sensations died down, but I still
had not strength to rise.
    "I don't know what will happen.  We can only wait, because what happens
to me will most probably happen to you, too." she told me.
    We sat there in the cool night air, she and I.  It had become decidedly
warmer since Valerien had left the yard, and there was only the faintest
chill, which I welcomed to keep me conscious.  All night, we remained as
thus, listening to the wolves howling and the dogs barking, the owls
screeching, and the myriad of other nocturnal beings carry on with their
endless rituals of survival.  For a long time, we were quiet, becoming one
with the creatures of the night.
    When she spoke, her voice sounded removed, as though it were reaching me
from a great distance.
    "I did dream that Papa and Mater and Uncle Peter had come as angels.
They were calling to me, and I had to see why.  I thought it was real."
    "I know, Marisa.  It was Valerien's spell over you."
    "What will happen to us now, Johann?"
    "No matter what, we will be together."
    "Did you feel the sensations right after you had drank from me?"
    "Yes."
    "Did it feel as though you were at once hot and cold, excited and energetic
yet exhausted and listless?  Did you feel that all the veins in your body were
singing?  I thought I heard a heavenly choir, did you?"
    "Organs and humming.  It sounded to me like organs and low humming."
    "And now?  Do you still hear it?"
    "Faintly."
    "The sensations have passed with me.  Do you suppose it has happened?
Are we...vampires?"  And she burst into sobs.  "Oh, Johann!  What have I
done?  I've ruined us both, cursed us to be condemned!  If I had any mercy,
I would have let you die, but I was so afraid to have you suffer and die, 
afraid to be left alone.  How weak I was!  How foolish to have come out
here in the night!"
    I rose up onto my elbows and put one of my arms around her, bringing
her head down onto my chest.
    "And now, we are monsters, you and I.  Our existences will be unholy,
and unclean...we will kill others, yet never die.  Oh, to think, Johann!
We will have to kill people to exist!  We will grow hungry and need to
kill to drink blood.  And this will be our eternity together."
    I did not know what to say, and offered only my embrace as solace. 
    "What will we do?  What will become of us?"
    Quietly, I considered what she had said.  Had we become immortal?  If
so, then the prospects were not all that unpleasant.  To be able to live
forever.  Then Death would no longer be a threat to us, and our lives
would be led by different values and rules.  Our entire existences had
changed...or rather, our mortal lives had ended and our immortal ones had
just begun.
    My voice was impassioned, and I could see that the intensity in my eyes
must have startled Marisa.
    "The thought of spending eternity with you far from appalls me, Marisa.
Now, you will always be mine, as I have always wanted you to be.  I will 
guard you and love you, and no other man will be able to have you.  You
told me before that you needed me.  I have always needed you and wanted you.
You are a part of me in my flesh, my soul, and my mind.  I've always loved
you more than anyone could have known.  While people wondered whether my not
finding interest in any other girl was due to my brooding nature, I always
knew that it was because you were the only girl I ever wanted.  I used to
dream of having you to myself, and now I finally have you.  For eternity. 
If in fact we are immortal, then why are you crying?  Perhaps we would not
have sought this state of immortality voluntarily, but what is done is done,
and there is no reason to weep.  We will kill, but did we not always kill?
Before we killed chickens and pigs and cattle.  Now, we kill people.  We
will choose people whose lives and souls are no better than pigs and cows,
who have as little value as chickens: thieves and murderers and plunderers.
But, just think on it, Marisa.  We will have the ages to do anything we 
like; we can see the world and learn all there is to know.  It will all 
be ours.  In this we are bound together."
    "You speak as though it's all a dream.  This is reality."
    "It was a dream of mine, and it has now become reality."
    "It doesn't frighten you?"
    "Of course, it does.  But, not as it did before.  Before, what frightened
us and cast a shadow on our lives was impending Death.  Now, Death is no
longer a concern of ours because it is over.  I don't know whether we are
dead and living corpses, or immortal and never dying, but either way, the
future no longer holds the threat of non-existence, for we will always exist
if we are immortal.  There is time aplenty on our hands, and we will never
have to consider living each day as if it were our last, because there will
always be a tomorrow.  Consider the glory of it, Marisa.  What is there to
weep at?  What is there to fear?  The greatest fear to any mortal is the
threat of Death.  We are not mortal and we haven't Death to fear.  We have
only one another and time: time to learn and see and do."
    "Oh, Johann.  When did you ever become such an idealist?  You were 
always the stoic."
    "Since my views of the world have been altered, since I've been altered."
    "But,...vampires?"
    "As myths, they were feared and abhorred.  They were among the creatures
used to threaten misbehaving children with when they were bad.  We fear what
we do not know and understand, what is imminent but has not yet occured to
affect you.  Once it has, it becomes known and understood, experienced.  If we 
are indeed now vampires, what has changed?  We still look as we did before, 
sense, speak and feel as we did before.  We are still the same inside.  Per-
haps our thoughts have been changed, but they haven't become evil.  Are we the 
horrific monsters we feared them to be?  Was Valerien?  He looked to me like 
a man, nothing else, but with a hunger for blood and certain powers beyond 
that of other men.  Perhaps we will be in possession of such powers."
    "He will return for me.  I sense it.  He means to have me, and will 
never let me go."
    "Marisa, I always will protect you.  I will not let him have you."
    "Oh, what is to become of us?" she asked yet again.  "The prospect of
an eternity staggers me.  I never lived toward Tomorrows, Johann.  And now,
that is all I have, besides you.  I much prefer having you to having time.
At least with you, I have an idea of what I can expect."
    I laughed softly.
    "But, what has become of Valerien?"
    "I attacked him when he tried to carry you off.  Perhaps I wounded him
that he has had to retreat for the time.  I don't know how seriously I hurt
him, but I believe he was left bleeding.  You had also drank heavily from
him, so perhaps that weakened him as well.  But as to where he's gone, I
have no more idea than you.  It was speculated that the murderer lived in
the mountains.  It's possible that that is where Valerien resides."
    "How long will it take him to return?"
    "Not tonight, I suppose."  I reached behind my head with a hand to feel
the wound.  Though I had been certain it must have been huge and critical
before, the wound beneath my hand was almost healed.  "But, perhaps tomorrow,
he will be back."
    "Why do you say that?"
    "Look at my wound.  It is almost better, I think.  It has only been a 
matter of hours, perhaps six.  The wound healed miraculously fast, and in a
few nights, you won't even know it was there.  I suspect he heals this
rapidly, too."
    Shifting to see the back of my head, she quickly gasped to see what 
remained of a once-mortal wound.
    "Oh, we are immortal." she said breathily.
    I took her into my arms, sitting up as my head cleared itself of all
the previous dizziness and pain and pulling away from her only enough to
be able to look into her eyes.  "Immortal.  You and I."

TO BE CONTINUED