Andreas closed the door of his inner bedchamber, his face drawn and pensive as he stepped down into the sunken opulence. He dropped onto a chaise upholstered with brushed suede and raked his hands through his thick black hair and tugged it loose from its customary tie at the base of his neck. He had hidden his worry from Anansi, putting forth a bold front, and now that he was in his private chamber, dark wings of concern fluttered around in his mind. The girl could be anywhere, she might have told dozens of humans of her experience, and among them, at least one would believe. He tried to follow this imaginary pathway to its unpleasant conclusion, but stopped himself. As a human, Andreas wished and fought for an end to abominations in his beautiful home, and he would do what he could now as a vampire to keep his misstep from wreaking another. The girl with the fiery hair and azure eyes had sought him specifically; she did not seem to be a groupie, craving attention from any vampire that might send attention her way. In his mind, he saw the horrified look on her pale face when he accused her of being a sycophant wishing to have notoriety by his notice. No, he had sent her away because in truth, he knew that she desired only his attentions, to share her mind with him alone. Her innocence and naiveté had appealed as much as her beauty, and when he realized the depth of his desire for her, he had violently thrust her away, hoping he would be able to demean her and reduce his interest. In reality, he had only guaranteed that he would see her again. Raising his head from his hands, a wry smile on his long, handsome face, a glitter of light caught his eye.

On the carpet by the side table lay the crystal ruins of the glass the girl had dropped. He had neglected to clean them up, perhaps trying to ignore the possibility that she had even been here. He stood and walked to the place where the shards lay, his eyes quick to find the hooked and wickedly sharp piece that had penetrated her palm. He plucked it from the floor and held it up to the light. It no longer flickered with its prism of scattered candle flame. Blood smeared the cruel edge. He laid the jagged sliver on his palm and snapped his fist closed around it, driving its sharp hook beneath the skin of his hand. His thin, tainted blood flowed and mingled with hers. He could sense her being within the tiny smear of blood and pursued it, following her essence like a trail. His consciousness clouded, he saw visions within a mist: a pall that swirled and eddied, thoughts and memories mixing colorlessly on the edges beyond the clouded path. He felt her nearness and sent his consciousness diving for her like a hawk upon a trembling mouse, doomed by its unavoidable role in the circle of survival.

He called to her, wordlessly and namelessly. The fog continued to eddy and swirl for a moment, then he saw her, clothed in blue and silver, her deep red hair an exclamation of color against her shoulders. She walked to him, her feet bare and her eyes clear and sweetly wondering. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, feeling clarity and reprieve in this dream place.

'Andreas, forgive me,'� she whispered. 'I wanted only to bring you peace, and these cluttered emotions and desires have ruled me.'�

Guilt flooded him. 'I will not forgive a non-existent transgression, Bellezza.'� He sighed. 'I have placed these barriers around my existence. I would bring you into my heart and give you my thoughts. We haven't much time in this place,'� he told her of the council and their decision. 'I have broken their laws and my own personal beliefs, Bellezza.'� Even in the natural whiteness of her fair skin, Andreas could see the pallor caused by his words. 'These directives are inviolate. I cannot change the council's verdict, and yet I am hesitant to obey knowing that your conversion is not my decision. I will protect you; there is more to their directive than they have said, else, the source of their information would have been clear, and my defense ignored. He brought her close within the circle of his embrace. 'I would have you beside me, Bellezza.'� She nodded against his shoulder.

'I am incomplete, Andreas.'� She began, drawing away to look up into his face. Her eyes, even in this nebulous place were stunningly blue. 'I have never experienced love or desire. I am nameless, adrift. I wish for your hand to guide me, your voice to touch me, perhaps even your love to shape me.'�
In spite of the pressing need to conclude this discussion and find her, Andreas paused, searching the strength of her face mutely.

'In the rebellion of my countrymen against tyranny I watched many fall, some with dignity and some begging on their knees. The most brave I witnessed was a slip of a girl, barely seventeen years old, who stood defiant in the face of a rifle squad. Her name was Chiara; I could never forget her valiant stand. If truly you are nameless, let me christen you with her memory.'� Andreas brought her close, knowing his connection to her in this ethereal place was fleeting. 'Let me see through your eyes, Chiara.'�

She nodded and immediately opened her mind with the absolute trust of one truly unused and unstained. The mist of the nebulous place their connection had created swirled away. In its stead, harsh reality intruded. The rough blacktop of an alleyway was beneath her cold skin, the stench of garbage all around. The first cold of autumn was biting through thin garments, and the brick of the wall she leaned against was rough at her back. Shocked, Andreas took in the girl's refuge, the place to which she had gone when he had thrust her away from his presence. Yet, her mind was clean of blame; she held him completely unaccountable for her situation. She had said that she was nameless and adrift. If this were her sanctuary when he had rejected her, that was truly so. Through his access to her mind, he felt the rough brick of the wall behind her, scratching at her arms as he made her body stand. Fully intending to take her body to the loft where he made his lair, he was directing her to walk to the mouth of the alleyway when he saw a figure approaching through her eyes.

The cool, thick mist was swirling in the draft of an open grate, foul smelling steam ejected into the air, making shadows dance and threaten. In spite of his calming strength within her mind, Andreas felt a prickle of fear from Chiara. In his loft, Andreas gripped the shard of glass more tightly, trying to extend his time with her. Then Chiara stopped walking. The figure in the mist loomed dysmorphically, and he felt her fear grow, weakening his contact. He called to her, trying to help her focus, to allow him to ease her crumbling control. In her circling panic, Andreas recognized the power of a vampire, and he knew that a predator hunted.

Their connection snapped, and when he found himself in his loft, he swore. He still knelt, his long black hair framing his face as he crouched over the fist that now throbbed with the insult of the glass driven into it.

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