Amelia walked into the room and stared unblinking into Scarlett’s flashlight.  Her eyes reflected fire in the glow of its beam. 

            She pointed the gun at Lazarus and Scarlett, who stood off to the side and said, “I need you to leave now.  You are in my way.”

            Scarlett grabbed Lazarus’s hand.  In the darkness, he heard the boards behind and left of him shift as Pyrle moved his body weight.  There was another growl.

            “I have to kill that man, that monster, that pig,” Amelia said, “before anybody else gets hurt.”

            Lazarus replied, “No one has died so far and no one has to.  We can send him to jail.  That way you won’t have to go to jail either.”

            Amelia huffed and cocked the gun, “Yeah?  On what proof?  He’s a lawyer and from what you told me, Lazarus, he is supported by lawyers who are willing to do anything because of their depraved state of being.”

            A whisper behind them, “Lazarus.  You should not have spoken.”

            Lazarus shifted from foot to foot.  Scarlett took a step forward in front of Lazarus. 

            “You can’t do this Amelia.  We’re trained to prosecute by the law.  There’s no room for vigilantes.”

            “Shut up, witch.  As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got Lazarus brainwashed and are brainwashed yourself.”

            Then the night lit up, and there was the sound of thunder, followed by a wet slap on the floor.  The flashlight’s beam spun madly as it fell to the ground.  Scarlett charged Amelia and pushed her through the room and into the glass doors of the balcony, using the gun to push against her chest.  The two of them crashed through the glass and onto the floor.  The boards shrieked in protest.  Scarlett pushed herself up, one hand on Amelia’s chest and the other digging into the broken glass next to her.  Amelia laid still but moaning, a trickle of blood emerging as a black shiny stream in the moonlight from under her back.   Scarlett kicked the gun through the railings beams, and it clattered through them to land on the ground below. 

            The wind blew Scarlett’s hair into her eyes.  She pushed it out and then rain back inside into the now pitch black room.  Scarlett squatted down and pulled the limp form of Lazarus into her arms.

            She whispered, “Baby.  Why did you do that?  Why did you jump in front of the gun?  You don’t even like Pyrle.  I was supposed to protect him.  We are all supposed to protect each other at the firm.”

            Lazarus did not respond but lay falling away from her.  She buried her head in his bloody chest inhaling the coppery scent of blood and Lazarus’s own particular scent of Old Spice and dry autumn leaves. 

            Scarlett pulled her head up, half of her face smeared with blood, “Pyrle, where are you?  I know you are here.  I can feel it.”

            “Quite,” he said, from within the darkness.

            “Save him,” she cried, “He saved you.”

            “No.”

            Scarlett’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of his voice, “Pyrle!”

            “You save him.”

            It was a whisper, but it was right behind her.  The boards had not shifted when he had moved.  The wind now kicked up, making the sheets on the furniture dance to invisible music.

            “Give him your blood.”

            “What?” she asked.

            “Give him your blood as Surn gave you his.”

            “And turn him into this?” she asked, putting a hand on her chest but still not turning around, “He would hate that.”

            “You won’t.  It’s the only way to save him.  Now, I must feed.”

            Scarlett did not hear him leave the room until something shifted on the broken glass and the wood groaned on the balcony.  A piece of glass landed next to Scarlett in the room, just barely catching the moonlight.  She laid Lazarus down, ignoring the muffled cries coming in from the balcony and straddled him.  Leaning down on his wet chest, the blood immediately began to soak into her clothes.  It was still warm against her skin.  Without taking her eyes off Lazarus’s face, she groped around for the piece of glass and brought it up to her neck. 

            “Baby,” she said, “I love you.  You have to drink.”

            He did not respond, so she opened his mouth.  She put her neck as close to his mouth as possible and used the glass to open up her carotid artery.  Using the control she learned from Surn, she allowed the blood to flow in a steady but controlled stream into his mouth.  At first it began to pool, but then his throat started working and swallowing.  Scarlett stopped it after about a pint of blood, so as not to kill him, and a clot formed over her wound, scabbing up.  He began breathing more steadily, and she felt his stomach moving against hers.  Slow up and down. 

            Scarlett tried to push herself off of him, but she was unable.  Giving the blood had made her weak.  She kissed him on the lips.  Scarlett rested on top of him.

            As her breathing slowed to a resting pace and just before she fell asleep, she whispered, “Pyrle will leave us alone now.”

            The seven-thirty sunbeams pierced through the remaining bits of broken glass and came to rest on the still figures of Scarlett and Lazarus.  They were caked in blood, dust, and dirt.  Around them lay perforated sheets on the furniture and the broken glass from the balcony doors.  The light revealed the utter decrepitude of the interior of the house, cracked walls and peeling paint as well as rotted floors and disintegrating furniture.  It was a house left to die on its own. 

            Lazarus stirred and woke Scarlett.  She sat up on top of him and smiled.  Unbuttoning his shirt, Scarlett felt the newly healed skin on the right side of his chest, where the bullet had removed a large chunk of his bone and flesh.  He glanced down at it, a look of confusion on his face. 

            “I got a promotion,” she said, “Need to know.”

            “I dreamed of you,” he croaked.

            “I know.”

                        Chapter 19

Don’t go away!  The next book is in the works.  check out the site.  different style-different taste.  GO

            “Let’s do this,” Amelia said, “Grab the sack.”

            Lazarus did and asked, “What’s the duffel for anyway?”

            Outside the truck, she came around to his side, carrying the shotgun low at the waist, and she whispered to him, “It’s for his heart when I carve it out.  I brought some stakes and a wooden box filled with garlic.  I want this bastard dead.”

            Lazarus dry heaved.

            “Hey,” Amelia said, “Do that quietly.  Come on.”

            They crept towards Pyrle’s house, past his empty neighbor’s driveway and immaculate lawn.  The two approached Pyrle’s car and crept to the front door.  The porch light was off.  Then headlights appeared down the road.  Lazarus looked back as the car parked next to Amelia’s truck.  He could not make out the model of the car despite the moonlight.

            “Ignore it,” Amelia said.

            “Do we knock?” he asked.

            “Fuck you,” she said, and turned the knob.

            It was unlocked and they walked in to the apparently empty house.  They stood in the uncluttered hall looking into the living room they had seen earlier and to their right a neat bedroom.  The hardwood floors reflected their faces.  Farther back to the right, there was a closed door with the light shining from behind the plain door.  Amelia nodded to the door, and she padded over to it with Lazarus following close behind.

            Amelia tested the knob, and it turned.  She threw open the door and fired the gun into the room.  The blast lit up the room in an artificial glare, throwing the crammed bookshelves and crowded desk.  Bits of books went flying across the room, and the noise reverberated throughout the house. 

            “Where did he go?” she asked, “There are no windows in this room, and his cigarette is still burning in the ashtray.”

            “You are so crazy,” Lazarus said, clutching the bulky duffel to his chest.

            “Out of my way,” she said. 

            Amelia stepped out into the hall just as the motion detector in the back yard set off the flood light. 

            “Aha!” she yelled and went charging towards the back door. 

            She went flying headfirst as she raced towards the door.  Between the two walls which created a small hallway to the back door, Pyrle had tied a string at ankle level.  Amelia tumbled into the pane of glass of the back door.  It was shatterproof, so all that Amelia did was grunt and collapse on the ground.  Lazarus rushed over to her, but she pushed him away.  Hauling herself with the foul smelling gun, Amelia pushed open the door and ran after Pyrle, and Lazarus followed. 

            The two of them turned the corner of the house and were now in between Pyrle and his neighbor’s house.  Pyrle’s dark figure was in the middle street, heading towards the forest behind the Victorian house.

            “Drop dead, you conniving bastard!” she yelled and fired again.

            The night lit up again like a violent flash of a photograph.  As the sound traveled into the woods, Pyrle collapsed.  He pulled himself up, gripping the lower left section of his back, but he still kept running. 

            Amelia took off after him, and Lazarus followed after a moment’s hesitation.  Amelia ran with the spirit of a blind rage, and Lazarus struggled to keep up, the black duffel banging against his thigh.  Pyrle changed direction and instead of heading to the woods, he bolted up the stairs of the Victorian house.  Amelia was already across the street when Lazarus noticed another figure running down the road.  He moved to intercept it, and stopped in shock when he saw that it was Scarlett.  The flashlight she was carrying blinded him, temporarily robbing of his night vision.

            He grabbed her by the shoulders and asked, “What are you doing here?!”

            She shrugged him off and pushed him on the chest, “What do you mean what am I doing here?  You are running around with some crazy girl who likes to shoot professors.  I am coming to save you!”

            Lazarus hugged her and said, “Thanks.”

            Let’s get out of here,” Scarlett said, “I’ll call the police.”

            Then they heard an enraged scream and another burst from the shotgun.  It was muffled from inside the house even with one of the windows shattering on the first floor.

            “We can’t,” he said, “I’ve got to stop her.  This is all my fault.”

            “I’ll come with you.”

            They took off for the house.  Up the rickety stairs, they burst through the screen door which dangled on one hinge. There was no solid wooden door present.  The two stood and gaped in the hallway of the large house.  The hallway opened up into an immense two story ceiling.  There was a double staircase leading up to the second floor, and to the left and the right were hallways which opened up into rooms haunted by irregular and boxy draped pieces of furniture.  Lazarus turned around.  The wall behind them hosted a huge picture of a dapper looking man wearing a pinstripe suit and a monocle; however, the picture was overwhelmed by rips, a thick layer of dust, and an empty bird nest. 

            “Who is that man?” Lazarus asked, “And why did he build a house out here?”

            Scarlett replied, “Pyrle is the caretaker of the house.  Truste, Loade, and Surn had it built many years ago, and purposefully let it decay, to keep people out.”

            He looked at her, “How do you know these things?”

            She smiled and said, “Need to know.”

            Any further conversation was cut off by another boom. 

            “It came from the third floor,” Lazarus said.

            Reaching the third floor, they heard heavy breathing and walked towards it.  In the room off the hallway, they saw Pyrle crouching behind a drape covered sofa.  He resembled an animal, hair a mess and wild eyes.  He growled at them, revealing unnaturally sharp but did not move. 

            “Pyrle?  Where are you?!” Amelia yelled from another room. 

            They heard her footsteps approaching closer, and Lazarus and Scarlett froze in fear, unwilling to move towards either Pyrle or Amelia.

                                  Chapter 18                                             Chapter 20

           “Holy crap.  That was a scary movie,” Lazarus said.

            “Yep.  I don’t think I can take a shower with my eyes closed for a while.”

            Lazarus shuddered, and he said, “It’s the worst when monsters come out of the night and chase people.  I’m glad they don’t exist, except for Pyrle, of course.”

            “Pyrle’s not a monster,” Scarlett said.

            He turned and looked at her, putting the wine glass down.

            “What?  Yes he is.  He sucks the blood of students and then sends them off to Truste, Loade, and Surn to do God knows what.”

            “We suck blood too, you know.”

            Lazarus rubbed his cheeks, “Oh.  Yeah.  Well he’s still a monster.”

            She shook her head, and kissed him taking his face in both her hands.

            “Babe,” she said, “There’s something I have to tell you.  Pyrle offered me a chance to start early at the law firm.  He told me it has never been offered or approved by the high ups for someone who hasn’t finished law school.  I think this could be my big break—”

            “Or the loss of your life,” Lazarus interrupted.

            “Hey.  I need you to be supportive of me.  I was there for you at every single part of this relationship.  From the ugly beginning to this beautiful end—middle, I mean.”

            “End?” Lazarus asked, “I really hope you don’t mean that.  Besides, I don’t see Pyrle lasting much longer.”

            He got up and started cleaning up the untouched dinner and wine glasses set out before the movie.  The crumbs on the coffee table made a smiley face.  When he walked back in from the kitchen, Scarlett had bundled up and was getting ready to leave.

            “Why do you say that?” she asked, “What’s going to happen to him?”

            “Nothing that I know of.  He just leads a destructive and evil life.  Something sooner or later is going to get him.  Where are you going?  Aren’t you going to spend the night?”

            She shook her head, “I have to finish unpacking and get ready for classes.  I’ll call you for breakfast?  I would love some more eggs.”

            He came over, and they shared an awkward kiss.  Lazarus sighed.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, “I do support you.  I just think Pyrle is bad news, and who knows?  I’m gonna end up at the same law firm.  Maybe I’ll drop out and come with you.”

            “Thanks,” she said, “Call you tomorrow.  Love you.”

            “Love you, too.”

            Lazarus closed the door behind her, and went back to the couch.  He reached for his book, but his hand stopped as he saw her phone lying on the cover.  Then his phone rang, playing the Imperial March from Star Wars.

            “Yea?”

            “Hey it’s me,” Amelia said, “You ready?”

            “I am.”

            “Come over and we’ll go over to his house.  Wear black.”

            Amelia cut off the phone.  Lazarus sighed again.  He just wanted it over and for everything to go back to normal with Scarlett.  He was scared of what was coming down the pipe because he did not know what was going to come out the end.  Lazarus was pretty sure it was going to involve blood, and he did not want it to be his.

            A half hour later pulled up at Amelia’s apartment.  She let him in, dressed in all black.

            “Are you ready to do this?” she asked.

            “I guess.  Do you have any liquor?”

            “It’s in the truck, for our celebration.”

            “Celebration of what?” he asked.

            She shook her head and closed the door.  They walked to the truck, and Lazarus admired the way the moonlight shone on the hood of her vehicle.  It seemed to make it shimmer as if it were a pane of glass.  The doors creaked open, and small but visible dust mites shot into the air as they climbed into the seats.  Lazarus looked around, aside from the cracked windshield and sun rotted seats, there was a black duffel bag behind the passenger seat and something that did not reflect the moonlight.  It was long, cylindrical, and a dull black.  He reached behind the seat and touched it; it was cold, like ice water.

            “Is that a-?”

            “A gun?  Yes.  A shotgun, in fact.  My father bought it for me when I was twelve and taught me how to shoot.”

            “You’re related to Jessica right?  The girliest girl I knew in college?”

            “Sadly, we are.” Amelia said, “Although she grew up with just living with my mom.  I guess I should have said my step-dad taught me how to shoot.  He was a gun nut.  He and Jessica didn’t get along, so even for being only two years apart, we had radically different lives.”

            Lazarus quickly opened the door, and vomited the little bit of dinner he had ingested earlier while with Scarlett. 

            “This just got real for me,” he said, wiping his mouth, “I can’t do this.”

            “Mmm.  Smells like lasagna.  Man up.  You won’t have to do anything except help me get in the house.  Don’t you hate this guy?  For what he did to you and Scarlett?  For what he made you do to me?”

            “I hate him but not enough to kill him.  You’re crazy by the way.”

            “Well, too bad.”

            She pulled away from the house, and Lazarus felt like he had stepped through the looking glass.  In the distance, another car started its engine.  The small blue Jetta followed Amelia’s truck as it cruised towards the outskirts of the town.  Lazarus felt every bump as they went over the rough roads.

            “I don’t understand how you can be like this,” he said to Amelia.

            She replied without taking her eyes off the road, “You hardly even know me.”

            “Well, I know that, but I got the impression that you were a sweet bird-loving girl who kept to herself.”

            They rounded a curve and swerved to avoid an oncoming police car.  Lazarus swallowed, but Amelia just grinned. 

            “That part is true,” Amelia replied, taking her eyes off the road for a second, “But can’t a girl have multiple interests.”

            “Scarlett did say you had a wild side.”

            Lazarus sensed he had struck a nerve, although it had been unintentional.  Amelia’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel, and the truck picked up speed.  The bumps got rougher.

            “Woah, woah,” Lazarus said, “Slow down.  I don’t want you to get upset.”

            “It’s too late for that.  Can’t you see that I am upset?  I am barely holding it together.”

            “What do you mean?” he asked, “You seemed perfectly normal until a few days ago.”

            Amelia glared daggers at him, and then looked back at the road.

            “Why do you think I watch birds all the time?  It’s to stay away from people,” she said without giving him time to answer, “I had a bad experience with a boyfriend in high school who cheated on me, and when I confronted him about it, he put me in the hospital.  You’re lucky I am not taking this out on you.  I know that Pyrle did it.  I believe you, so that’s why we’re riding to his house.”

            Lazarus gulped.

            “Are you happy with that explanation?” she asked.

            “I didn’t realize,” he said.

            “No, you didn’t, but it doesn’t matter because we’re here.”

            The truck had come to a stop at the end of Pyrle’s street.  It was a short street with only four houses on either side, but to Lazarus it seemed to stretch on like an eternity.

            “Do I have a choice?” he asked.

            “No and neither does your girlfriend.  Get out of the car.”

                         Chapter 17                                                    Chapter 19

            Lazarus jumped out of bed, “Hold on one second, babe.  I know we have an important conversation coming.  Just give me two minutes.”

            “Uhh, okay,” Jessica said and pulled the covers up around her waist. 

            He dashed out of the room half dressed and into the cold rain of the last days of November.  It was a dreary morning, with any hope of nice weather crushed by the presence of overbearing grey stratus clouds.  The rain raised gooseflesh all over his exposed torso. 

            Using Scarlett’s keys that he had grabbed on the way out, he fumbled with door locks, muttering, “Come on.  Come on.”

            Lazarus opened the door and when a quick visual scan did not reveal the journal, he started a more rigorous search.  There was nothing in the glove box, except an owner’s manual and some old looking pens.  Under the passenger seat were a crushed of box of tissues and a pink umbrella.  The space under the driver’s seat was empty. 

            “Damn, I know I left it in the car.”

            He slumped back to the apartment, where Scarlett was waiting with a towel.

            “What were you looking for?” she asked, as she guided him back inside to the living room sofa. 

            “It was Harry’s journal.  Remember when you found it in your car.  It was a beat up looking thing, Harry left after I dropped him off at the airport.”

            “Oh yeah, that thing.  I put it in the glove compartment.”

            Lazarus pulled down the comforter resting on the top of the sofa and wrapped it around Scarlett and himself.

            “Well,” he said, “it’s gone now.”

            She stroked his head, “Was it important?”

            “Yeah, Harry called asking about it.  He sounded scared, and I’ve never heard him be scared before.  Harry asked about the journal and mentioned a guy named Benjamin.”

            Scarlett paled, but Lazarus was too busy looking at his hands.

            “After that,” he continued, “there was a crash and the line went dead.  I tried to call it back, but it didn’t work.”

            “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said, “From what you have told me about him, he always is okay and manages to pop in and out of your life at unexpected times.”

            “Yea, I guess so.”

            Underneath the covers, Scarlett stretched her legs out crossing them at the ankles and laid them across Lazarus’s lap.

            “Remember how we were going to have that important conversation this morning before you ran out into the rain?  I think we should still have it.”

            Lazarus stared at her.  He started to wring his hands.

            “I’ll save you the trouble of going first,” she said, “I forgive you for going into my apartment without asking me.  I really shouldn’t need to, since I gave you a key.  It was also kind of absurd that we had never gone there before.  I mean, let’s see.  How do I put this?”

            He watched and waited.  Scarlett uncrossed and crossed her legs again, making the covers squirm like snakes.

            “Okay.  We never went to my place because it reminded me too much of Samantha.  Every time I went in there, I would see her on the sofa or the bed or in the kitchen.  It was a relationship which I had never experienced before.  When she left, she didn’t even say good-bye, and then I met you.  It was only a year later, when Pyrle suggested that I start early and find a “mentee,” so when I found you, I was not in a good place emotionally.”

            “You never showed it,” Lazarus said.

            “I know.  You have no idea how hard that was.  Plus, you weren’t the easiest person to get along with.”

            Lazarus blushed.

            “But I started sleeping better at night,” Scarlett continued, “And started even to like you.  Now that we’ve been together for a while, those feelings I have for you are as strong, if not stronger, than what I had with Samantha.  It’s like a patch was put over my heart.  It is healed, but I will always feel the outline of the patch.  Does that make sense?”

            Lazarus nodded, “I’m sorry about going to your place uninvited.”

            “It’s okay,” she said, “It was good to finally get everything off my chest for once.”

            “Yeah.  Do you want breakfast?  I’ll make you some eggs, after I get out of the shower.  I need to warm up.”

            “Sure,” she said.

            Lazarus got up and disappeared into the bedroom.  She then heard the water running.  Lazarus’s phone beeped on the kitchen table, and Scarlett got up to get a glass of orange juice.  She looked down at the phone as she passed and stopped.  It said there was a new text message from Amelia.  Looking over to the bedroom, she picked up the phone and read the message.  It said, “Let’s do it tonight.  11 a.m.  My place.”

            “I’m glad I got everything off my chest,” she said to herself, “Well almost, and I guess you didn’t either.  I wish I had told you about the offer Pyrle made to start at the firm a semester early.  Perhaps it’s best I didn’t.”

            She closed the phone and poured herself a glass of orange juice.

                      Chapter 16                                                            Chapter 18

-tim

            Scarlett had given him the keys to her apartment in case he had ever needed them, but for some unspoken reason, they had never gone to her apartment for anything.  What he admired the most about this place was the rose petal pattern on the ceiling.  To him, it seemed that someone had tried to throw petals all over the floor, bed, kitchen table, and furniture but that gravity had stopped working and they had gone to rest on the ceiling.

            Lazarus smiled.  This was his woman.  He glanced over at the door, nervous that Scarlett would catch him in the act of infiltrating her domain, even though she was not due back for another day.  He wanted to get any last information about Pyrle before Amelia and he paid a visit to his house.  Lazarus’s stomach hurt for doing this, but Amelia had convinced him there was no other way.

            He padded over to the dresser and picked up the photo of the two of them.  It was not a particularly flattering one as they were covered in mud.  He guessed she kept it because of the smiles.  Lazarus had tripped after a particularly rainy day and fallen into a large mud pit next to the sidewalk.  She had been laughing at him until he had pulled her into the mud as well.  Lazarus snorted and put the photo down.

            As he did, the photo in the loose frame shifted revealing the corner of another picture behind it.  Lazarus turned the frame over, undid the plastic clasps, and removed the back.  Two pictures fell onto the floor.  One was the one he had just seen, but the other was of two girls.  The date said the picture was taken four years ago.  It was Scarlett; he recognized her figure but not the other girl.  He guessed it must be Samantha, Scarlett’s sponsor.  Someone else had taken the photo of them and had captured a warm fall day on the campus.  Lazarus recognized the Cuppaccino store where Amelia worked.  The two girls were walking away from the camera holding hands.  Unseen wind blew their hair to the left and three leaves had been forever captured in flight in the bottom lower left.  Shafts of light pierced through the branches of the trees and landed on the sidewalk.  Lazarus looked up at the light on Scarlett’s bed.  He suddenly felt sick.  With shaking hands, he put the photo of Scarlett and him back.  Closing the door, he left the apartment almost the same as he found it, minus one picture.

            In the darkening twilight, Amelia and Lazarus sat in the cab of her truck on the city limits of Masonville, the small town near Falhorn.  It wasn’t quite the one horse town, but it was close.  Pyrle’s house was on the outskirts of town; it was a rancher.  They were waiting until nightfall so that they could sneak a peek into the windows, and according to Amelia, have a look around inside. 

            “Let’s go,” she said, “It’s dark enough.”

            Lazarus looked outside and without a word he got out of the truck, his mind still on earlier today.

            “Okay.  Now don’t make too much noise or set off any motion detectors.  Otherwise the neighbors will be out looking for wild animals.”

            He nodded.

            They snuck across the lawn and went up to the side window.  The house stood on the end of the block with one house on its left, woods on the other two sides, and an abandoned house across the street.  Covered by the woods, they peered into what turned out to be the living room window.  It looked like something out of a magazine.  There was a spotless coffee table, smooth leather sofa, and lots of books crammed neatly on floor to ceiling shelves. 

            “Guy likes to read,” Amelia whispered.

            For lack of anything better to say, Lazarus whispered back, “He’s really smart.”

            “Let’s go check out the next room, and then look for a back door,” she said.

            The next window exposed the kitchen which definitely occupied.  There were pans and dishes stacked in the sink, crumbs and food on the counter.  The table was the most interesting.  It was a beaten up looking thing with an empty glass and a bowl with a spoon in it.  In the dark, they could see the top of the table was discolored.  Without lights, they could not see what caused the stains, but Lazarus automatically jumped to blood.

            Seeing this, he said, “Let’s get inside.”

            He back away from the edge of the house and ran around the corner of the house disregarding Amelia’s whispered exhortation to stop.  A motion sensor went off tripping a floodlight around back.  It lit up the backyard like daylight, and Lazarus froze as if a deer in the headlights.  Amelia came and got him, pulling him back to the car.  She dropped him off at his apartment without a word.

            “We’ll try again?” he said.

            She looked at him and drove off.  Lazarus sighed and went into the apartment.  After showering he climbed into bed, holding the picture of Scarlett and Samantha to his chest as he fell asleep. 

            The door to his bedroom opened sometime later and Scarlett walked in back from her trip.  She dropped off her bag and changed into her pajamas, her shadowing dancing on the bed.  Scarlett climbed under the covers and cuddled up next to Lazarus.  She snaked her arm over his chest and stopped when she felt the picture.  Pulling it out of his loose grasp, she simply stared.  Then she put the photo on the nightstand in front of Lazarus’s sleeping form.  Scarlett put her arm back under the covers and pressed even closer to him.  After giving him a light peck on the back of the head, she closed her eyes.

            Lazarus woke up with an unfamiliar presence in the bed.  He had gone to bed alone and now had an arm on his stomach.  Then he smelled the light scent of strawberries.  His heart bounced, and he rolled to face Scarlett.  In the morning light, her face was relaxed and unworried.  Picture forgotten, he stared at her until she woke a little bit later. 

            “Hey,” he said.

            She smiled and croaked out a ‘hey’ in return.

            “Glad to have you back.” he said, “Unharmed?”

            She nodded.

            In a quick motion she had wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tight Lazarus could not breathe for a second.  She let go, and they studied each other as if meeting for the first time.  Then they both spoke at once.

            “There’s something I need to tell you.”

            “I have to get something off my chest.”

            “One word,” Lazarus said, “Apartment.”

            “Samantha,” she said.

            Lazarus started and sat upright, “Harry’s journal.”

            She shoved him playfully, “Hey, that’s two.”

                  Chapter 15                         Chapter 17

            “Ohh, what a dream.”

            Pyrle had been visiting him in his dreams again, though now that he had shared blood with Scarlett; she was appearing as well, often competing for space and time in his dreamscape.  He could never remember much of what he had been in these dreams, but they always involved Pyrle towering over him.  The feelings of fear and arousal created a weird mix of emotion that he had to deal with in the young hours of the night.  This often made it hard to get back to sleep.

            Later that morning hunched over coffee and dry toast with jam on a dirty plate, he realized that with Scarlett out of town, he could reconcile with Amelia and set everything straight.  He could not get Amelia out of his thoughts.  Lazarus was not sure why she was so prevalent in his thoughts as he had only talked to her a couple of times.  He felt that it had something to do with his dreams.  

            Lazarus decided to confront Amelia and was about to leave when the apartment’s phone rang.  He picked it up and heard heavy but suppressed breathing on the other end.

            “Hello?” he said.

            There was more heavy breathing, and then he said, “Hello?”

            The voice spoke back, “Laz, it’s me.  Do you have my journal?”

            “Harry?  Is this you?”

            “Yea, do you have my journal?”

            Lazarus leaned against the wall and sank to the ground twirling the phone cord in his hands. 

            “Harry, it’s so good to hear from you?  Where are-”

            “Laz, do you have my journal?”

            “What?  No, I never had it.  Oh wait, the book you left here?”

            “Yeah.”

            “What of it.”

            Lazarus heard Harry grunt and heard glass crunching on the other line.

            “Dude, it’s kind of important.  Do you have it, or did you read it?”

            “Uh, no.  Where are you calling from?”

            “That’s not important,” Harry said, “Can you get it?”

            Lazarus got up and started to pace back and forth, trying not to trip on the phone cord.

            “No man.  I don’t have it.  It’s in Scarlett’s car, which is currently in New York.”

            “Oh shit.”

            The inflection in Harry’s voice gave Lazarus the chills.  He looked out through the window in the living room and saw dry November leaves blowing about in the wind beating against the windows and falling to the ground.

            “Harry?” he asked, “What is going on?”

            Harry had descended into fast mad sounding uttered syllables.

            “Harry!”

            “Sorry, man.  I have to go.  Benjamin is going to kill me.”

            “What?”

            The line went dead.  Lazarus was shaking a little bit from the strange encounter on the phone, and immediately dialed star 69.  He got the number and dialed.  It rang seven times before Lazarus decided to hang up.  Lazarus did not know what else to do.  He could not call the police and could not call Scarlett, so he decided to go out and see Amelia and finish what he had started.  Lazarus walked out of his apartment, shutting the door with a purpose. 

–

            “Hey,” he said walking into her room, “You here?”

            “Yea, come on in.  Just getting out of the shower.”

            Lazarus came in and sat on the purple love seat in the bright living room.  The room smelled like flowers.

            She came in and sat down next to him tense like deer about to flee, “Are you single?”

            There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

            “What” she asked, “You’re pregnant?”

            Lazarus grabbed her hands,” No, I’m serious.  Pay attention.”

             She withdrew her hands and crossed her arms, “Sorry, when I’m nervous I joke.  Okay, I’m listening.”

            “Well, you’re not going to believe this,” he started.

            “Come on, now,” Amelia said kicking him lightly in the shin, “You can’t tell me to be serious and then start off saying something like that.”

            She flounced away to the kitchen and got a drink.  When she got back Lazarus continued.

            “You know Pyrle, right?  One of my professors.  He’s a demi-vampire.  Hey!  Don’t start laughing.  His class is really a grooming process for the lawyers at the Truste, Loade, and Surn, who I guess, but don’t know for sure work for vampires or are vampires themselves.  Every student of his is required to find another and recruit them.  I know we were from the same town, but I didn’t choose you.  Pyrle did.”

            “So all this,” she said, looking pale.

            “Let me finish.  It wasn’t my choice to pick anyone.  I was—am in love with Scarlett.  You know, but I was compelled to do this.  Trust me when I say this, it wasn’t my choice.”

            “But why me?” Amelia asked, pulling away from him.

            “I don’t know,” Lazarus replied, “My guess is because it would destroy the link between me and Scarlett.  It was getting too strong and threatening her allegiance to Pyrle and his master.”

            She was quiet for a minute.  Quiet and drawn into herself in a way he had not noticed before.  Amelia seemed to become smaller, wrapping herself around a single point in her body.  Lazarus was about to say something when she shook herself and reappeared as her normal self.

            “Well,” she said, “Let’s try and break the cycle.”

            “What?” Lazarus said, surprised.

            “What do you want me to do?  Go all fainty and have you rescue me or Scarlett or whatever?  I’m a practical girl.  Let’s kill the fucker.”

            “What? Murder a professor?  Are you crazy?”

            Amelia stood up and put her hands on her hips emphasizing her curves by accident, “Listen to me, he won’t be expecting it, and if his is evil we will be doing some good.”

                 Chapter 14                                             Chapter 16

            The next day in Lazarus’ mind, his cell phone burned in his pants pocket.  He had received a straight to voicemail message from a number he did not recognize until he heard the voice.  It was Pyrle.  The smooth lilt of the voice belied the threat present in it, which is why he now felt the wind whipping his and Amelia’s hair as they walked side by side skirting the river that flowed leisurely alongside them in the marsh.  It was surprisingly warm for the middle of November, and they listened to the birds cooing in the brush.  Amelia took Lazarus’s hand, and he jumped but did not immediately pull away.

            “This is so nice,” she said, “and romantic, especially for a bird watching girl like me.”

            “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

            She was wearing a blue pea coat, a superman shirt, and green corduroys.

            “I like it here when the sun goes down right by this tree.”

            “Yeah, it’s pretty,” he said, “It’s a nice day, too.  I think that helps make the dead brush and trees look a little better.”

            “Yes,” she said and stopped so they were rubbing shoulders. 

            She leaned in turning and moving closer to Lazarus’s face.  He leaned in trying to conceal the look of panic on his face. Based on his discussions with Scarlett, he knew that as a mentor he needed to seduce Amelia and create a bond with her, even though he felt that she was seducing him.  Lazarus leaned in further, feeling a pit in his stomach.  Then his phone rang.  The bright chirping of his phone shattered the silence and quiet breath of the wind.  They both stepped back, he pulling out his phone, and she turning away red in the face fixing her hair.

            “Hello?” he said, turning his back to Amelia, “Oh hey, Scarlett.  Yeah, I can come by in a half hour.  I’m out running errands.  Yeah, see you soon.”

            He hung up.

            “Who was that?” Amelia asked.

            “My study partner,” Lazarus said, looking out into the marsh, “She’s leaving for break, and we’re trying to get all our notes together for this week while we are apart.”

            “Really?” she said,” I’m not stupid.  You’re not out running errands, and you hang out with Scarlett all the time.”

            “It’s not like that, I just—” Lazarus stopped.

            “I won’t be anyone’s mistress,” Amelia said, “I knew these past couple days were too good to be true.  Call me when you’re single.”

            She stalked off, leaving him standing in the middle of the marsh.  The sun set in front of her, creating a burning halo of fire around her figure as she walked away.  Lazarus’ phone rang again.

            Before he answered it, he said to himself, “That could have gone better,” and then into his phone, “Hey, Scarlett.  Yep, I can get some eggs from the store before I come over.  I’ll be there sooner than I thought.”

            It was dark by the time he walked back from the marsh to his beat-up car.  The engine started, resisting a little in turning over, and then sputtered to life.  He was worried because Scarlett’s tone was not normal.  Lazarus imagined that Pyrle was over there waiting for him to come home.  His parting with Amelia was also weighing down on him.  He hadn’t expected her to catch on so quickly.  It didn’t help that he was still with Scarlett.  Lazarus’ gut burned as he knew that Pyrle had done that on purpose in order to break up Scarlett and Lazarus. 

            After the stop at the store, he went into his apartment, blue plastic shopping bad in hand.  Lazarus stopped when he found Scarlett sitting in the living room with a large knife resting on the coffee counter. 

            “Hey, babe.  How’s it going?” she asked.

            “What’s with the knife?” he asked, not coming into the room.

            “I’ve been doing some thinking.  I think that we should try and do something against what Pyrle is doing to us.”

            Lazarus put the bag down and sat next to her on the couch, taking her hand.  She pulled her hand away from his and picked up the knife.  He tensed.

            “What is Pyrle doing to us?” he asked.

            “Remember how I had Samantha as my mentor.”

            “Yes,” said Lazarus, shifting in his seat. 

            He began to get warm and felt his stomach dropping.  Lazarus could see where this conversation was going.

            “Well I think Pyrle has done the same to us.”

            “What do mean?” Lazarus asked.

            “Oh come on,” Scarlett said. 

            She got up and glided over into his kitchen still holding the knife.  She came back with a towel.

            “Don’t think I’ve seen you with Amelia and not heard others talking about you and her.”

            “Nothing happened,” he said.

            “I know,” she said, “I’ve been keeping close tabs on her.  She’s a wild one.”

            “So then, what’s with the knife?”

            She looked down at the knife and placed it with a clink on the unblemished coffee table.  The wind whistled outside, and the lights inside flickered from some unseen power surge at a nearby generator.  They both looked up at the ceiling light which returned to its steady glow.

            “This knife,” she said, “could help keep us together, especially because I have to leave tomorrow for New York.”

            Lazarus swallowed.

            “You know how we get our blood sucked, “she continued, “and then dream about Pyrle almost every night.  Don’t look ashamed or surprised, I know you do.  We all do.  Anyway, I don’t want to lose you.  So I thought we could suck each other’s blood.”

            “What?!  We would die from a cut artery.”

            “No, we wouldn’t cut the artery, but the skin so that we bleed.  Hence, the towel.”

            “Why don’t we just stop him?” he asked.

            “I don’t think I can or want to.  He is the answer to our success as a lawyer.  I could never hurt him.”

            Lazarus wilted a little inside.  He figured that his attraction to Pyrle was not as strong because he had only given his life blood once.

            “You’re crazy you know,” he said, taking off his shirt.

            “You’re just as crazy for letting me cut you up.”

            She pulled off her shirt too and straddled him on the couch.  The scent of strawberries wafted over him.  Scarlett leaned into kiss him, her lips caressing his for an instant.  Her left hand traced up his bare skin on his stomach to his chest to his neck.  She raised goose bumps.  With his eyes closed he did not see her raise the blade in her right hand.  Scarlett leaned back and then with a short swift stroke opened up a shallow cut on his neck.  Lazarus winced.  The blood welled up in the cut almost immediately.  With a sigh, Scarlett leaned in and put her mouth on the wound.  He could hear her sucking the blood into her mouth.  Unlike with Pyrle, this hurt.  Every time she touched the wound with her lips and tongue, a stinging pain lanced his neck.  After a minute she sat back and pressed the towel on the cut.

            “That felt wonderful,” she said with a smile.

            Lazarus looked up at her, “Really?”

            Scarlett began to grind against him, “I’m actually kind of turned on by it.”

            Lazarus looked at her again, “Really?”

            “My turn,” she said, looking into his eyes and handing him the knife.

            With little pretext, he put the knife up to her neck on the left side and made a small incision.  She made a small gasp of pain.  Lazarus hesitated to bring his mouth to the wound.  In that span of time, enough blood worked itself out of the wound and made a small rivulet down past her collarbone.

            “Babe, get that.  It’s too precious to waste.”

            Lazarus grimaced and licked up the blood.  He felt Scarlett shiver.  Then he put his mouth on the wound and began to work blood from it.  Every time his lips touched the wound, she would jump but did not make any sound.  When he felt that he had gone an equivalent amount of time as she had, he stopped and blotted the wound. 

            “How do you feel?” she asked.

            “Kind of sick,” he replied.

            “That’ll pass.  It always does the first time.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            Lazarus was able to ignore the metallic taste in her mouth as they kissed.  He was also aroused by this carnal and sanguinary exchange. 

            “I guess I won’t worry about it then,” he said into her ear, as he leaned in to kiss the other side of her neck.

                   Chapter 13                                          Chapter 15

This is a double post 13 and 14 because I suck at posting on time.

            Lazarus woke up with a start and reached for Scarlett who was sleeping next to him.

            “Amel—Scarlett?”

            “Hmm?”

            She rolled over and put an arm on top of him.  Her hair fell in front of his face, and he inhaled the smell of strawberries.  He remembered the first time he had woken up next to her.  Lazarus rested his hand on her soft arm and smiled into the darkness. 

            “Uh, nothing.  Go back to sleep,” he said.

            Lazarus closed his eyes again and saw the last image of his dream: Pyrle.

            The dream had begun as they had in the past couple of days.  Pyrle stood in his office facing away from Lazarus, who was standing in the corner of the room in the shadows.  He could hear Pyrle speaking but could not understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. 

            Lazarus realized he could see the words.  The words were flowing out of his mouth.  He could see them, and they were hanging against the wall.  Seeing them did not make it easier to understand them, in fact, it made it worse.  They were not in the Latin alphabet but were strange symbols, similar to the tattoos on his arms.  Lazarus could hear the words buzzing softly and quivering with what seemed like anticipation

            Pyrle turned around, and his face was distorted.  It was not the smooth polished face that Lazarus was used to in class.  Instead, it was pulled tight, exposing his teeth, and his hair was not black with silver but all white and stringy.  Hanging down in tatters, stringy, and wasted, it looked like greasy moldering spaghetti.  As Pyrle spoke, his teeth grew larger until they all developed elongated points.

            “Yes,” Pyrle said, now speaking English but looking at his door, “Come in.”

            Scarlett walked into the dark empty room.  Lazarus wanted to step out of his shadow in the corner but couldn’t move.  She was wearing the cotton t-shirt she slept in with the big smiley face on the front and her sleep shorts.  Her hair was mussed as if she had just gotten up from bed.  There was no expression on her face, no fear, no joy.

            “Yes,” Pyrle said, the clothes on his body rotting into strips of old dirty cloth.

            He opened his mouth unnaturally wide and a moan issued forth.  The moan grew stuttered and clogged as bright red blood poured forth.  Out of this gushing torrent, the naked figure of Amelia fell onto the floor with a loud slap.  She did not move.  Scarlett screamed and joined Amelia on the floor in a state of collapse.  Then they both began bleeding from punctures and lacerations and pieces of flesh which appeared without apparent cause on their bodies. 

            Lazarus started screaming, still unable to move, and Pyrle turned and said, “Now you”.

            That’s when Lazarus had woken up.  Scarlett shifted again in her sleep, drawing her arm back to her side.  Lazarus closed the space between them, and held her tight, worried that she would disappear in the next couple of days in the bowels of a powerful law firm.

          Chapter 12                                              Chapter 14

            Seeing her looking at him, he smiled and said, “Okay, now what is this all about.  Why are we having this fancy dinner?”

            He watched her face get sad and saw a year’s worth of apprehension descend upon it. 

            “Uh-oh,” he said, “Unless I am interpreting this wrong, something bad is coming.  Let’s make this a happy dinner and talk afterwards, especially after the wine had been flowing.”

            She smiled, and they started eating.  After the dinner was done, Lazarus poured them each another glass of wine, and they retired to the couch right behind the table and sat facing the fireplace.   Scarlett put her legs across his lap, and he stroked her legs. 

            “Babe,” she said, “I have to go to Truste, Loade, and Surn.”

            Lazarus choked on his wine, spilling a little on the black but already stained couch.

            “What?  Why?”

            “It’s part of the requirements.  Pyrle says it is just for the week.  Trust me when I say that I didn’t know about it until today.”

            “And he expects you to drop everything and go there during break?”

            She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder.  Then she put her wine glass on the table and leaned in and hugged him hard.  He could hear her crying into his shoulder, and it turned into huge rocking sobs.  Lazarus put his arms around her and hugged her back, his stomach dropping out at high velocity.  She pulled back and the tears were running down her cheeks, little rivers of fear. 

            “I’m scared too,” he said. 

            They slept that night clinging to each other, trying, at least until they fell asleep, to minimize the space between them as if that could erase the physical gulf between them which was coming in the following week. 

            Lazarus woke to his phone beeping that he had a new text message.  Scarlett groaned and rolled over away from him.  Bleary eyed he grabbed his phone.  The time was 11:15 a.m., and the message was from a number he did not recognize.  He opened the text message and read it.  He did not need to know who had sent it.

            It said, “Go now to the marsh, and follow Amelia.  Learn more about her.  Now.”

            Glancing over at Scarlett who had gone back to sleep, he pulled the covers off, got dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and left.

            The marsh was steaming as the fog burned off from the morning sun.  He found a truck parked at the edge and saw Amelia off in the distance, a mere speck of humanity in the totality of nature.  The marsh consisted of brown and green, waist high plants, and plenty of muckiness.  As soon as he stepped into the marsh, his tennis shoes started sinking into the mud, making small squishing sounds.

            “She’s in the middle of nowhere on a Saturday morning,” he grumbled, “What the hell is she doing here?”

            He snuck close and saw that she was wearing thick wading boots, dirty jeans, and a brown pullover.  To top it off, she stored her brown hair under a beret cap.  Amelia stood in the marsh with a small spiral notebook pad in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other.  Every so often she would snap the binoculars up to her eyes and scan the skies or trees for birds that she saw.  Lazarus was impressed with the speed of her snap.  He was close enough to hear her mutter to herself as she watched and wrote down the birds she saw.

            “A flock of black ducks, spectacular.  Twelve.”

            Lazarus rolled his eyes.  His legs were growing stiff from crouching in the reeds.

            “Ohh,” she said not looking in her binoculars, “One poorly dressed idiot hiding in the plants.”

            Lazarus tensed, cracking a stick.

            “Who can’t stalk worth a damn,” she continued, “Why don’t you come out and introduce yourself.”

            Lazarus stood up as red as the windbreaker he was wearing.

            “My name’s Amelia,” she said.

            He looked at her proffered hand and shook it.

            “So, what are you doing out here?  Aside from watching me?”

            “Uhh.”

            “Well spit it out.  I haven’t got all day.”

            “I was, uh, watching you,” he said.

            “Not shit, Sherlock.  What do you-”

            She stopped, cocked her head, and then snapped her binoculars up to the sky as a miniscule bird flew by.

            “Want?” she said, turning back to him.

            Lazarus was unsure how to continue.

            “Well,” he said as he scratched his arm, “I was hoping I could take you out for coffee.”

            There was a silence for a second and then as Lazarus was about to leave, Amelia burst out laughing.

            “Just like you took my sister to your room for a beer.  The argument she got into with Todd over you.  From the way she tells it, nothing even happened.

            “Nothing did happen.  We both passed out.”

            “Well that’s a relief.  I knew she wouldn’t cheat on her fiancé, though they broke up.”

            “I guess she should have seen that coming,” he said, “He’s gay, right?”

            “Yea, so why do you want to take me out for coffee.  I work at a coffeehouse.”

            “Uh, right,” Lazarus said, “Well then how about a beer.”

            “I don’t drink,” she said,” but I always wanted try.  Don’t worry I’m 18 and over 21.”

            “What?”

            “You don’t think your reputation doesn’t precede you?”

            “Oh, yeah,” he said, “That reputation.  I’m a changed man now.”

            “Sure, that’s why you’re out stalking girls in the middle of a marsh on a Saturday morning. Who’s responsible for that?”

            Lazarus stood still for a second, almost saying Scarlett, then he said, “Me.”

            “Hmmph,” she said, giving him another once over, “Here’s my number, now get out of here.  You’re scaring all the birds away with that red blazer.”

            He took the paper, “It’s a wind breaker, and I’ll see you around.”

            “Well, yeah.  I’m giving you another chance.”

            She turned away from him and went back to watching birds.  Lazarus left, feeling he had nothing else to say, mostly just grateful to get out of there.

              Chapter 11                                                 Chapter 13