Another Saturday, and my 'guest' was still playing her strange game. Wherever I went, she followed, gaze unwavering. It was a predator's stare, so out of place on that little wisp of a girl, but I was used to it by now, and I barely noticed anymore. It's amazing what you can get used to, given enough time. It had been more than a month since she'd levered herself into my home and life, and she had yet to speak a single word. Having seen what I had, I was inclined to let her keep her silence. Living without conversation was no great burden for me, so I'd eventually managed to regain some sense of normalcy. I gave each task my full attention, pouring my focus into every action. I made a ritual of yet another mundane task as I made us both eggs and french toast, as we ate in silence, as I cleaned up after. I didn't notice at all how my shirt's too-big collar slipped, careless, down one slender, pale shoulder. I didn't watch as she licked daintily at a spot of syrup on her delicate finger, her eyes never leaving me as she slid it between her lips. I pointedly avoided noticing the way a lock of her hair, dark and straight and silky smooth, only slightly mussed despite the night's sleep, fell across her cheek in a way the begged my fingers to brush it back behind her ear. I was so busy not noticing that I damn near missed my mouth with my next bite, and the laughter danced behind those deep dark eyes, so deep you could drown in them, so dark they might as well be black.

I finished quickly, then stood, taking my plate. I could do just as good a job not noticing at the sink as anywhere. I didn't take her plate for the same reason one does not take an antelope from a feeding lion. She'd leave it when she chose, syrup and powdered sugar scattered like blood and offal, but I'd deal with that when the time came.

I spent the morning in the studio, along with my exra shadow. I'd packed up everything but the old Bride of Frankenstein to ship out on Monday. To tell the truth, I didn't really have anything left to do, but it was a grand old poster, and I enjoyed looking at it. Ray had sent it to me faded, folded, and dog-eared, but it had still been a beautiful poster for all that. God knows where he'd found it, but that was his business. I just made her pretty again. She'd fetch $200,000 at the very least, if I didn't miss my guess. The way the market had picked up lately, and with Ray running the auction I wouldn't be surprised at all if she went for double that. I spent an hour or two making a few final touches, but I was mostly running on force of habit. It had been done for a few days now, I just liked looking at it.

On the way out, I passed an empty canvas. That was for my own work. I hadn't done a project of my own in months now. I kept meaning to, but it never seemed like the right time. None of my originals had ever garnered any real interest at the gallery viewings. A few critics liked my work, more didn't. It was fine. I wasn't exactly a starving artist or anything. My restoration work payed the bills. I mostly just painted fanart these days, or portraits for friends. It was enough. I didn't realize I'd sighed until she caught my eye and smirked.

"Shut up." I said, without any real conviction.

I fixed lunch and she watched from the table, resting her head on her arms. I cleaned the dishes and she watched from the counter, arms around her smooth, slender legs, her cheek resting on her knees. She joined me in the shower, and as usual, hogged all the hot water. I used to enjoy long hot showers, now I just wash up as quick as possible and have done. Her wet, naked skin had its usual effect, stronger now than ever. Almost a month and and a half now since I'd had any form of release, and an embarrassingly long time before that since I'd had any partner besides Rosie Palm and her five frisky sisters. So far I'd managed to keep myself from doing anything truly stupid, but I still kept things as quick and businesslike as possible, given the circumstances. The hardest thing to get used to had been the shitting. I'd damn near gotten myself constipated, waiting for her to give up her little game, but eventually I'd lost that battle too, along with every other. I'd still never seen her use the toilet, but then I'd never seen her sleep either, so I guess she had plenty of time during . We dressed, and she followed me out to the living room, where I turned on some college football and sat in my recliner to take a quick nap, she sprawled on the couch, legs over the back, head lolling from the cushions. Just another lazy Saturday afternoon in my strange new life.

*** *** *****

A party, a necessary evil. I am not a social butterfly, but I must make a showing. My tuxedo itches, the night air is humid and still too hot. A millionaire introduces me to a friend even richer than he, then leads us both inside so he can show off his hoards of obscure crap. They fluff up their feathers and crow about their collections, bragging about each acquisition as though it were some battlefield conquest. I despise them, but I'm more than willing to whore myself out for their money, so I laugh at their jokes, feign interest in their stories, and generally flatter them shamelessly. I dislike the social games, but I can play them when I need to, which is a big part of why I stay in business. Sure I'm good at my job, but there are plenty of restoration guys who were as good or better who couldn't make it through the rough economy. So I play their game as long as needed, then bow out at the first opportunity. A voice tells me I've been here before, I ignore it. I'm outside at last, digging for my keys, in the wrong pocket. Of course.

A wisp of a thing in wisps of silk and lace. Someone brought their daughter here, in that? Dressed to suggest things she shouldn't know yet, but her eyes say she does. Nine, ten perhaps? She's gorgeous. If only. I'm staring, shouldn't stare, no matter how much she invites it. She's got to belong to someone, someone important. How can he flaunt her like that. Must be nice to have money, to have people look the other way. Still, who would be that brazen? Even millionaires aren't immune to statutory. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe she just wanted to play princess, go to the ball. Cinderella never had a dress like that. She moves with more confidence than any girl that age ought. Up past her bedtime and giving me ideas. She sees me. Those eyes! Nothing to be done. I should go. Where's she going? The party's over there. There's no one over there, is there? None of my business, time to go. It's strange how rich and poor are so close in the city. She really shouldn't be going there. Is that her dad? He's not wearing a tux. She can't have three dads, can she? They don't look like the hob-nobbing sort. This is stupid, I shouldn't get involved.

I'll just make sure she's ok, then I'll head home. There's probably some back entrance. Something tells me I know what I'll find, but I ignore it. I'll just say... Was that a scream? Damnit, who the hell let her wander around the city alone, and this late at night. I should run more, I'm already winded. Those guys looked pretty big. I wonder if they had a knife, or a gun. I'm going to get myself killed. That'll be embarrassing. Some rescue. I slip and damn near fall, fucking leather soles. I guess traction isn't fashionable. I should yell, let them know I'm coming. Might distract them, let her get away. Yup, definitely gonna get myself killed. Here's the alley, moment of truth. Can't die till she's safe. Time to do something worthwhile. You know, that didn't sound all that much like a girl's scream.

That is a lot of blood. How much blood would it take to pool like that? It's got to be more than a few gallons, no, liters. God, it's hard to go metric. How many liters to a gallon? Can't remember. How many gallons in the human body? Stupid public schools, how can I have graduated and not remember anything. This is why America is going down the shitter. Still, that is a whole hell of a lot of blood, and there aren't any bodies, just pieces. No thugs, just her, and the pieces. What did this? What the fuck is she? She's laughing, at me. She's the one covered in blood, yet she's giggling. I wish she'd stop walking this way. That can't be a good thing. Well, I was right about one thing. I am going to die. I should move. I was moving a second ago, if I could just remember how I did it. Such a small hand, how could it have made all this blood? Oh, that's right, little girls like to hold hands. Why is hers so cold? Why am I still alive? Where are we going? Oh right, I was heading to my car. Why do I always forget which pocket my keys are in? How did she know where I was parked? I guess we're going. I wonder if I'll be able to get the bloodstains out of the seats?

*** *** *****

"What if he wakes up?" asked an unfamiliar voice. Female, young, uncertain, no one I knew. and it came from the couch to my left.

"You worry too much." Another voice I'd never heard, yet this one was familiar somehow. It sounded the same as her eyes looked. "Maybe I'll have him join in." The voices vanished, and a wet sound replaced them. I hadn't heard that in way too long. I cracked my eyes. Orange light poured through the windows. I must have been sleepy.

"I need to get back home before dark, or my dad will kill me." And me, shortly after, I had no dobut.

"There's plenty of time." More quiet, wet sounds. My unexpected roomate was just full of surprises it seemed, and I wasn't the only one getting frustrated. That made me smile a bit. How fast kids grow up these days. One second they're taking their first steps, the next they're murdering thugs in alleys and seducing other children in a strange man's house, and doing a better job than I'd ever managed. I've had some moderate success with seduction, not always, strictly speaking, above the legal age of consent. Twice, not, strictly speaking, yet in the double digits, but I'd never had any complaints. Seemed like I still had a lot to learn.

"Ow, that hurts." Something new. She was still trying to sound playful, but was that fear?

"Don't be such a baby."

"I'm bleeding, you bitch."

"I know, it's delicious." Jesus Christ. A vampire? Really? I mean, they're so overdone, and she certainly hadn't needed an invitation to come inside. No, no, this was all wrong. Still, I needed to put a stop to this. Undead creature of the night or no, nobody sucks blood on my couch. I'd just redone the upholstery, for god's sake!

I was gathering my courage and my snark for an epic battle of harsh words with the immortal fiend when I heard the snarl. I don't really know how else to describe it, it was like the sound a giant cat would make, deep and feral, and not at all the sound of an aroused little girl. I wasn't the only one who heard it. When the screaming started, I wasn't sure where hers ended and mine began.

I jumped up, or I would have. The damn recliner didn't like sudden movements, and it fought me as I clambered out awkwardly. My dark-haired maybe-vampire was latched on to a gorgeous little redhead who looked absolutely terrified at this point. The ginger looked none-too-pleased about the situation, but my usually-taciturn companion had her arms and legs pinned, and had had her mouth clamped onto that freckled neck. Neither was naked, and a small part of me still managed to be disappointed by that fact, but they'd been heading that way, and loose clothing shifted wildly with all the thrashing, largely uninhibited by buttons and clasps.

With speed and decisiveness that shocked me, I reached down, grabbed the leg of my cheap ikea coffee table, and kicked at the top, wrenching it free. Buffy would have broken off a pointed stake, perfect for dispatching all manner of demonic fiends. I got a club, which would have to do. I swung my makeshift weapon right between the vampire's(?) shoulderblades, and noticed as I did that I'd unconsciously positioned it so that the smooth outer edge would make contact, rather than the jagged inner mess, with the splinters and screws. I figured that was probably a bad idea, but based on the mess she'd made of those three gangbangers in the alley, I doubted it'd matter much.

The impact successfully distracted my little monster, and she turned her eyes, along with her bloodstained jaws, on me. And she was still cute, damnit!

She leaped at me, and I again surprised myself by sidestepping and swinging the club like a baseball bat, connecting with the base of her skull and adding to her momentum as she flew by. Even more shocking, I didn't waste time congratulating myself, and immediately scooped up the bleeding girl, and made a beeline for the front door. I almost made it, but right as I rounded the final corner, something swiped my legs out from under me, and I fell in a jumble of arms and legs, barely managing to keep my body between the girl and all the hard, uncomfortable objects in our trajectory. That didn't do my body any favors, but I didn't look to have long to live anyway, so I told it to go fuck itself, and scrambled to set the girl on her feet while still keeping myself between her and the lovely demon who'd eaten french toast with me that morning.

I turned to face my doom, and said. "Go! Get outside and keep running!" I heard nothing behind me except ragged breathing, so I added. "Look, the whole noble sacrifice thing doesn't mean dick unless you get away, so run goddamnit!" Why hadn't she attacked yet? She was just crouching there, on all fours. Could I even delay her? She was so freaking strong! I Tried to fill as much of the hall as possible, my body trying to remember everything my old high-school football coach had told me about angles of attack and center of balance. Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms grab me around my waist.

I was about to yell something, I'm not quite sure what, but then I heard the bloody beauty at my hip say, "Oh my GOD! He's adorable!"

"I told you, didn't I? I just want to put him in my pocket and take him home!"

"And his manly bravado! Get him to do it some more!"

"I know, you should have seen him in that alley, when he came to my 'rescue.' I could've just eaten him up."

"And an artist, too? This is too much!" My brain seemed to have frozen. Adrenaline was still pouring into my system, but I didn't have a clue what to do with it. I realized the club was still raised in my trembling fist, and I lowered it, with some difficulty, to my side. This seemed to amuse the redhead. "Oh, he's so confused. He's like a great big puppy! Can I keep him?"

"Back off Lea, he's mine. I haven't found one this fun since dear, sweet Charlie."

"It's no fair, showing him to me like this if you're not going to share." The redhead, who was apparently named Lea, pouted. "I want some!" At this, her hands began to roam around my hips, and my body decided it had found a use for my adrenaline after all.

"Jesus Tittyfucking Christ on a crutch!" I yelled, jumping out of her grip like a scared jackrabbit. I backed into a wall where I could watch both of them staring at me with inhuman intensity. "What. The fuck! Is going on?"

"He hasn't asked before now?"

"Nope, I was waiting to see how long it would take, but I couldn't resist showing him off."

"You are such a bitch."

"Pot, meet kettle. Now get out of here, I want him all to myself tonight."

"I hate you so much." Then, speaking to me, Lea said, "I'll be in touch, darling. Ciao" And she just walked out the door, hips swaying in ways most supermodels would envy.

The door closed behind her, and I was left alone with my tiny beast.

"She's right" she said, conversationally. "This really was cruel of me, but I had to show her what I'd won. For the record, I'm sorry." She said, grinning. She didn't look very sorry. She stepped closer to me, fluid, graceful, terrifying. Her gaze held me pinned like a bug on a board. "You have been good to me." Step. "You have sheltered me." Step. "You have fed me." Step. "And I have not been kind." She was very close now. She reached out, took the hand holding the club. I hadn't realized, but I'd been gripping it so tight that the corners had cut into my palm, and I'd begun to bleed. She gently, delicately, unwrapped my fingers until I dropped it, then she kissed it. Her tongue traced the cuts, one by one, and when she was done, she laid her cheek in my palm. "One of my names is Andra. I would give it to you. For a time, I am yours." She moved my hand, down her neck, beneath her unbuttoned shirt, to her chest, smooth and flat but for the engorged nipple. Then down further, over her stomach, her mons, and finally between her legs, a wet fire against my skin. her other hand reached up behind my neck, and brought me down so she could whisper in my ear. "What would you have of me, my host?"