When Aya opened her eyes it was light outside.

She sat up, taking in her surroundings in the stark light of day. The room they had given her was modest, but the bed was comfortable. Better than she had slept on in the last one hundred and fifty years, but anything would be better than a lump of rock.

There was no sound coming from the bathroom or the room beyond. It seemed Sam had already left for work. She showered and dressed in the same clothes as she wore yesterday, making a note to get some more later on.

Venturing out into the hallway, she caught the faint hum of Zac's blood somewhere on the manor grounds. Keeping a note of his general location she began to explore the house. The brothers had done a lot of work to it since moving in. The entire place had been wired with electricity with soft tasteful lighting in every room. She wondered how many workmen they had to compel to have this done. Then again, their parents had been rich plantation owners and a hundred years of interest in their bank accounts would have made them even more well off.

She passed the door to the master bedroom she knew to be Zac's and kept walking. She shuddered to think what was in there. That one could remain a mystery. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she wandered to the back of the house, where the kitchen was located. It was attached to a formal dining room with a long mahogany table with twelve chairs and what looked like the original chandelier hanging from the center of the room. Landscape paintings were on each wall, but otherwise it was bare and looked unused.

She wandered back down the hallway, coming to another closed doorway. Running her hand along the frame to the door handle she listened for a moment and turned it quietly, the door creaking inwards. She found herself in a room that served as a study. A large mahogany desk stood to one side, covered in old papers and books. Behind it, the entire wall was lined with bookshelves filled with more books and trinkets. Opposite were floor to ceiling French doors that opened up onto the veranda. Outside, she saw the wisteria that had once been grown in such a manicured fashion had overtaken most of the railings, ventured up to the second floor and probably onto the roof as well. It had been a long time, but she remembered this room as if it were yesterday. Actually, in light of her current predicament, it was only last week.

Approaching the bookshelves, she ran her fingers across the spines, reading the titles as she went. There was a layer of dust, which gave away the fact that no one had moved anything from the shelves in a very long time. They all seemed to be ledgers from the old plantation. Expenditure, profit...until she placed her finger on a copy of Shakespeare’s Julius Cesar. Her heart clenched for a moment. She had known a few very dangerous Romans once upon a time. Pulling it from the shelf she flicked through the pages, finally looking at the inside cover. In a perfect script was written, For Louis, Many happy returns on the day of your birth, Arthur Risom.

Arthur Risom. The name sounded familiar.

“What are you doing?”

Aya turned to find Zac at the door. He was looking at her in a threatening manner as usual, arms crossed over his chest.

She hadn't heard him appear and she should have by the sound of his blood alone. Placing the book back she said nothing, scolding herself internally.

He scowled at her. “Do you always sneak around like that?”

“Pfft. I don't sneak.”

“Then what were you doing?”

She grinned wickedly, biting her lower lip. “Sneaking.”

“I don't know what your looking for, but I don't appreciate you poking about my father's study.”

“Whatever.” She threw her hands up in mock defense. “Touchy this morning, aren't we?”

“Only because you're here.” He sneered, looking her up and down.

“Then perhaps I should go watch the show from the sidelines.” She sauntered over to him and looked into his strange green eyes. “When they come for you, you'll beg me to poke around.” She glared and pushed past his bulky frame into the hallway. Walking down the hall and into the parlor, she heard him following her for round two.

“Aya,” he said, not trying to hide his exasperation. “Just leave that stuff alone. It belonged to my father. I just don't want anyone to touch it, okay?”

She turned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Whatever. If it means that much to you, then I won't go in there again. Satisfied?”

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway and sat on the sofa in a huff.

“You know, this place could really use a duster. It's not as nice as I remember it,” she jabbed. “I pity those with allergies. This place is a death trap.”

“You've been here before?” He sounded surprised.

Nodding, she said, “I never left.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“I was asleep since eighteen sixty-ish.”

Zac didn't mask his surprise. “You've been asleep in Ashburton for the last one hundred and fifty years?”

Aya shrugged, running a finger across the dusty mantelpiece. “If you hadn't summoned me, I probably still would be.” Truthfully, the fact that she had slept so long worried her. Who knows when she would have woken if not for Zac and his impulsiveness. It could only mean she was becoming weaker and she hoped that wasn't true.

“Where?” he asked, not fathoming the mechanics of it.

“The cave. By the lake,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Then you would have been here when Sam and I...”

“Louis Degaud was quite the gentleman,” she said absently.

“My father?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“Did I? Did Sam...”

“I think you would have remembered if you had met me,” she said. “I had quite a dramatic presence back then. I believe Louis' eldest son was away fighting in the war, which was quite the scandal. His youngest... Well, I don't really remember. Mrs. Degaud, what was her name again? Marie. She was as polite as they came in those days, which meant she'd stab you in the back if you were to come between her husband and her money.”

“When did you leave?” he whispered, his expression somewhat shocked.

Aya frowned at his tone. “About the time your parents received word of their sons heroic death.”

“I see.”

Aya sensed there was something he thought she knew, but was uncertain of asking her. “The last I knew of this town and the world was in the eighteen sixties. Whatever came to pass after that is unknown to me, along with the so called massacre.”

Zac was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to decide what to tell her. “I died in the Civil War,” he said finally. “I was shot and left for dead. But, before I died a vampire came. I supposed it was because of all the blood. I was the only one still alive in the pile of corpses. She saw I was a captain and took me for her own gain. When I finally understood that she was using me, I left only to find that she had reached my family before I could.”

He stood and walked to the window opposite with his back to her. She could feel that he was troubled by it, trying to hide his expression from her. Who was his maker? Obviously a callous bitch by the sounds of it. This was the vampire that had massacred every last human at the plantation after all. No wonder Zac was such an asshole.

Aya found herself feeling sorry for him, but stopped herself from saying it out loud. She felt sorry now, but back then would she really have done anything to stop it? Instead she asked, “Did you kill her?”

“Yes,” he declared, still looking out the window, carefully hiding the emotion in his voice.

“Good.” She clapped her hands together, standing up. “Then that problem is solved. The wicked vampire is dead. What was her name?”

Zac turned and frowned at her. “Victoria.”

“Oh! Victoria. Long, curly auburn hair? In America by the way of France? Up-herself English bitch? Are we thinking about the same cold hearted vampire here?”

“How did you...” he whispered, eyes wide with surprise.

“Bitch got what she deserved. I hope you made it slow and extremely painful.”

Zac was looking at her slightly horrified. He'd met his match in her, that was glaringly obvious.

“Well, thanks for the little chit chat.” Aya smiled brightly. ”Paces to go, people to eat. You know how it goes.” And she was gone before he could open his mouth.

Liz was relieved when Gabby came into the coffee house. The previous night was weighing heavily on her and it was all she could do to remain focused on work. Making herself a coffee, she went and sat with her friend in a booth by the window.

Gabby, seeing she was wound up, produced a flask from her bag and handed it to her under the table. Mrs. Greene wouldn't take too kindly to her staff drinking on the clock and at midday, too. She hadn't tested how much it took to make her drunk these days, but she assumed it was a lot.

“To the Irish.” Gabby grinned as Liz dumped the contents of the flask into her coffee.

“Thanks, Gab. I really need this today,” she said with a sigh, relaxing back into the booth, conscious of the customers around them.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn't pick up on these things?” She winked, grinning. “Besides, with the weird shit we have to deal with, a little whiskey never goes astray.”

“Mental, is what it is.” Liz groaned. “But we're in it now, I guess.”

“Up to the eyeballs.”

“What do you make of her?”

“Who, Aya?”

“Yeah.”

Gabby thought for a moment. “Well, she's over two thousand years old. That's gotta screw with your head after a while.”

Liz groaned, letting her head loll backwards. “I don't want to think about age.”

“Sorry.”

“It's okay. I guess thinking about where I'll be in two thousand years is a bit of overkill.” Liz laughed at the idea.

“Well, as for Aya, I believe her. There's a lot she's not saying, though. I'm not sure if we should be wary of that or not.”

“She also implied that Katrin was hunting her as well,” Liz pointed out. “I wonder what she did?”

“And I wonder how long she's been hunted,” Gabby added. “Alistair was looking for her, and he was linked to Katrin.”

“You're right.” Liz took a gulp of her coffee. “Argh! It makes my head hurt.”

Gabby was frowning, her mind having drifted to something else. “What I don't understand is why she would help my ancestor. Vampires and witches don't usually get along. I can understand her hunting them, but forging alliances?”

“You get along with Zac and Sam,” Liz said. “And me.”

“Yeah, but you guys fight your vampire side. You want to be as human as possible. Aya seems like a force all of her own.”

“She's not like vampires are meant to be.”

“No, that's my point. She's not like you, she doesn't hold onto anything that's human. Or doesn't seem to. She's holding onto something else,” Gabby said, frustrated. “I just wish I could figure out what.”

“Maybe she was a witch. Before, I mean,” she offered.

“No. Witches become ordinary vampires when they're turned. All connection with any power and earth sense is lost.”

“How do you know?”

Gabby smiled. “The grimoire is more than a book of spells and potions. It also acts as a kind of journal. A connection to those that have come before.”

“Like a family record, a story?”

“Kind of. More like passing along advice,” she replied. “Which I really need, since I'm on my own.”

“I think we should be on our guard where Aya's concerned. She's obviously got her own agenda.” Liz sighed, catching sight of Alex over Gabby's shoulder. He was frowning at them, clasping his lunch so hard his thumb had dented the sandwich.

She waved at him. “Alex!”

Approaching, he smiled weakly. “Hey Liz, Gabby.”

“Hey.” Gabby turned around, catching the uncertainty in his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking towards the exit. “I'm just running late. I'll see you later.”

Before they could say goodbye, he'd already hurried away and was pushing through the door. Liz glanced at Gabby. “Do you think he heard us?”

“I don't know,” she said, shrugging. “He could have.”

“I feel bad, you know. Keeping all of this from him.”

Gabby sighed. “I know. It's for the best, though. The more people that are involved...”

“The more people that get hurt.” Liz finished her sentence.

“Right.” She smiled reassuringly. “On that note, I have to go back to the office.”

“Thanks for the Irish.” Liz winked heading for her space behind the counter, her thoughts calmed, but no less worried about Aya and now Alex. They were just trying to protect him from all of this, but she wondered how good it was for him to keep pushing him away. Making up stories, excuses. She knew she would have to leave him behind one day, but until then she wanted to hold onto some sense of normality and Alex was a link to her old life. She was being selfish and deep down hoped it wouldn't blow up in her face.

Alex flopped onto the ground heavily beside the garden bed he had been mulching before lunch, his sandwich well and truly mangled. He’d overheard the end of the girls' conversation and it worried the hell out of him. He swore that they had been talking about witches, but that didn't seem right. Then Liz had voiced her distrust over Aya's agenda? What the hell?

He jumped when Aya herself sank down gracefully beside him, her eyebrows raised at the sight of his mangled lunch.

“Nice sandwich,” she said.

He tossed the sandwich aside, suddenly not hungry. “I guess I don't know my own strength.”

Aya frowned at the gesture. “What's up?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, I just heard Gabby and Liz talking about something I shouldn't have overheard.”

“Like what?”

Alex hesitated. “They were talking about you.”

She laughed at this. “I bet they are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know I'm staying with Zac and Sam for the time being,” she said. “Zac and I aren't getting along very well, so I'm sure they all have some colorful things to say about that.”

“You're living at the manor?” He seemed surprised.

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “It was Sam's idea, obviously. Zac's an annoying prat, but it beats the smelly motel.”

“Oh.” Alex fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

Aya, as if sensing his discomfort, stood up and said, “I'll leave you to it, Alex. I've got stuff to do.”

Alex watched her disappear across the street. She seemed happier than when he'd first met her. Something had changed to make her that way. Maybe it was just making some friends. He knew from experience that could do wonders for a person. The more he thought about it the more he couldn't help but wonder if she had an agenda like the girls were talking about. She'd never really told him what she was doing in town and what exactly her job was. The obvious FBI and CIA scenarios ran through his mind, but he snorted at the ridiculousness of it. Like she'd be a spook.

But he couldn't shake what he'd overheard. If Aya really did have an agenda, then what the hell would it be?

When Zac walked into Max's bar that night, he was surprised to see Liz sitting at a table on her own with a glass and bottle of Jack. Something was bothering her big time. Sauntering up behind her, he grabbed the bottle and took a mouthful.

“What's up, beautiful,” he said, sitting down across from her.

Groaning, she snatched the bottle back from him.

“What?” He raised his hands, grinning, waiting for a response.

“Ass,” she hissed.

“Yeah, so what?” Zac laughed, tapping the table top.

She shook her head. “You act like you're not even worried about anything.”

“And you are?”

“Of course I am, Zac!” She kept her voice low, growling at him. “Aren't you afraid of being killed?”

“We've all done it before.”

“But the next time, you won't come back.”

“Afraid you'll miss me?”

Liz sighed heavily, pouring herself another glass of Jack, pushing the bottle towards Zac. “Is everything a joke to you?”

He frowned, the smug smile fading away as he took a long draught straight from the bottle. He played with the idea of telling her what he could hardly admit himself, that he had some semblance of feelings for her. He thought about his brother and that welded his big mouth shut.

“No,” he said, staring into her eyes.

Uncomfortable, she sighed heavily, looking away. “I think Alex overheard Gabby and I talking about Aya today.”

“You think, or you know?” he asked, the most truthful moment he'd had in the past month dissolving into nothing.

“I think,” she said, glaring. “I don't trust her yet. This whole thing scares the hell out of me.”

Zac looked at her for a moment, realizing that he hadn't thought of her safety once in the past two weeks. He had been selfish and impulsive—his best two traits. “You'll always be safe if I have anything to do with it.” He grabbed her hand under the table.

“I know,” she whispered, pulling back awkwardly.

“Liz, I...” he began, but fell short when he caught the unmistakable reek of a werewolf that had just entered the bar.

She looked at him, her expression confused, but turned when she too caught the sent. The man that walked towards them was heavy set, the rough stubble of a new beard covering his chin and he looked pissed off. His rough appearance and plaid shirt made him look like a lumberjack. Except it wasn't the frontier, they were in the middle of a humid, smelly swamp.

“I want to know what happened to my brothers, vamper,” the werewolf spat, pushing Zac roughly as he stood.

He hardly remembered it, even though it was only about two weeks ago. A lot had happened since then. Psycho witches and ancient witch hunting vampires trumped five mutilated werewolves. Only in a vampire’s world.

“What are you implying, dog?” Zac snarled, putting himself in front of Liz.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about you blood sucking piece of shit.”

Aya laughed to herself. Zac was standing face to face with a werewolf, Liz cowering behind him like a little girl. Her eyes met the young vampire’s and it was all she could do not to fall on the floor with laughter. Her silent plea for her help was hilarious.

She’d certainly guessed correctly about Zac, he was always getting himself into trouble. Perhaps this town wouldn't be so boring after all. It was time to send everyone a little message. She'd won this town from the wolves and they needed to keep their hands off for good. It didn’t belong to Zac, either. It was hers.

She stopped beside them, placing her hand on the werewolf’s shoulder, turning him about. “Now, now,” she crooned. “A handsome man like you shouldn't be so angry. I bet you'd rather have a drink with me.” She looked him up and down and smiled wickedly, biting her lip. “That idiot isn't even worth it.”

Without looking back, she could tell they were stunned as she led the wolf by the hand to the bar. Suddenly he didn't seem to care that he had been threatening Zac or even sense she was also a vampire. He was more engrossed in her looks and whatever was in his pants to bother. That, and a little prodding by the way of compulsion. She ordered him the strongest drink she could to curb his bloodlust.

“What's a handsome man like you doing in a shithole like this?” she asked breathlessly. “What's your name?”

The werewolf could hardly contain his elation. “Ralph.”

“Well, Ralph, it sure is a pleasure meeting you.” She ran a finger down the buttons of his plaid shirt. “We're going to have some fun. I hope you're up for it.” Ralph leaned over her shoulder, picking up his drink and inhaling her scent. By the look on his face, she could tell he was in her thrall. He downed the drink in two gulps and slammed the glass down on the bar.

“That's an alluring cologne you're wearing,” she flirted, leaning closer to breathe in his ugly wolf stink. She caught Zac's eye and winked as she led her catch into the bathrooms at the back of the bar.

Checking to see if all the stalls were empty, she locked the bathroom door and turned, looking Ralph up and down. He stepped forward, clutching her around the waist and went to kiss her, but she grabbed the side of his head and smashed it into the basin, the force cracking the porcelain. The wolf fell to the floor, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead.

“What the fuck! You bitch!”

“Listen to me,” Aya soothed, crouching on the floor, shoving him over so he could see her face. “The next time you come into this town and threaten any one of those vampires, I will tear you to shreds and send back the pieces to your pathetic little pack. This town is mine and I do not appreciate the peace being broken by a dog.” She grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. She let her eyes cloud over into two ethereal white pools and licked her fangs. Ralph cried out in horror and put his hands in front of his face. Dropping him back on the tiles she stood over him menacingly.

“I got it! I got it! Fucking hell!” he whimpered. “What the fuck are you?”

“I'm your worst nightmare.” Aya looked up into the mirror, fluffed her hair up and smiled down at him. “You have a nice night now, you hear?” The bathroom door shut heavily behind her.

Zac raised his eyebrows as she approached. ”What the hell did you do to him?”

Aya looked at him nonchalantly and took a sip of his drink. “He won't bother you anymore.”

Suddenly, the bathroom door crashed open and the werewolf stumbled into the walkway. Catching Aya's eye, he visibly stiffened. The gash she had given him had healed and he'd washed most of the blood off, the hair at his temple wet and stringy. She raised her glass and he looked away, totally panic stricken, and made a dash for the exit.

Aya began to laugh and Liz glanced warily at her. ”What exactly did you do to him, Aya?”

She stood and slid her leather jacket from the back of her chair and grabbed their bottle of Jack. Winking at Liz, she left the bar, not really bothered whether she explained herself or not.