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“Very well,” the vampire said. He began to walk away over the tall peaks of the rooftops; his long coat fluttering around him as his hair flowed on the wind.

“Wait, wait!” I stumbled after him. “My name is Lady Glynis Wright. Who are you?”

He turned back to gaze upon me. I could feel his desire to return to me, but he fought it, a bitter sweetness tingeing his features.

“Lady Glynis, it does not matter,” he answered, then the night seemed to enfold him and he was gone.

“No, you cannot merely leave and not let me know your name. You kissed me, sir! I deserve to know your name. ”

But there was no response.

He was gone.

Needless to say, I was quite upset. Never had I been kissed in such a fashion that I forgot the entire world around me save the man holding me close. Never had I felt such intense passion. Had he not felt the intense emotional surge that had encompassed us when he had kissed me? Did he not know that in those few short moments he had made me love him?

Oh, how I yearned to see him again! To touch him again! To feel his kiss once more!

My girlish infatuation with Lord Byron dimmed in comparison to what I now felt.

And I did not even know his name.

Hungry, weary, and furious, I stomped across the peaked roof, feeling quite put out. How could he kiss me then leave?

Tugging my hood over my head, I stormed across the rooftops of the houses of Pesth. Finally, I dropped into the street and walked toward the caleche. It was just where it was supposed to be. The driver appeared to be asleep, fallen over in his seat.

“Let us go now,” I said.

He did not stir.

Frustrated, I shook him and he fell over. His eyes were wide and staring. His throat was slit from ear to ear.

I felt my skin began to prickle. I whirled about, sensing the swirl of power nearby. This was no ordinary murder. No criminal had taken the driver’s life to steal his money.

My teeth slid downward as I felt my eyes burn as my gaze sharpened. Someone or something was nearby and it was watching me.

I sank back from the carriage, pushing up the shadows around me, drawing my powers up around me as protection. Instinctively, I knew that whatever was watching me, was now aware that I knew it was there.

Before me, the shadows gave birth to a tall, wiry man. His countenance was very, very pale, albino apparently, with white hair and eyes as pale as frozen water. Dressed all in black, he was an imposing figure. His gaunt face seemed to hover in the darkness around him. He felt like great power, but not quite vampire, not quite mortal.

He bowed deeply. “Good evening, madam. Let me introduce myself. I am Gregor. I am a dhamphir and it is my greatest pleasure to bring your Satanic existence to an end tonight. ”

I raised my chin, my eyes widening as I gazed at him. “I do not know what you are, but I can assure you I am not Satanic. ”

“Really? Are you not a vampire?” He smiled at me, flashing, to my surprise, sharp little fangs. “Your kind gave birth to my kind. I can smell you, feel you, like a pulse in my head. ”

I drew myself up and tried to look as aristocratic and imposing as possible. “Be gone with you. ”

He threw back his head and laughed, then cut the laughter off as he fastened his deadly gaze on me. “No. ”

It was then that I saw the tiny silver daggers tucked into the sleeves of his long black coat. He raised one hand, his long fingers twitching over one.

“Come now, devil’s bride, the time of your salvation draws near,” Gregor said with a taunting smile.

I turned and ran.

“I do so enjoy it when your kind runs. It makes the hunt that much more exciting,” his voice taunted on the night wind.

I dashed down the road, my feet barely touching the ground. Frantic to escape, I tried to pull my power up, but found it waning. I had yet to feed and my power was diminished.