The Child of the Races, Book One: The Princess of Mnerecros, Part One

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

I think I will die soon.

I have my freedom back, which others might say is all they would want, but I left something behind that is dearer to me than self. Sometimes this is called the heart, or true love. Once it was called by the derogatory term of idiocy. I have my freedom back, and an overload of memories, some blissful, others terrifying. I think, perhaps, it is better that I merely lost my heart with no hope of regaining it. It would be better that happened than letting it be torn, either figuratively or literally. The memories will serve in its place. I pray that they will. They have to.

This is, I hope, an accurate account of the past five and one half years of my life as I witnessed it. When I started this account, I was just beginning to feel the depression that would so soon weigh heavily upon me. I needed something to escape, and this account was the best that offered itself to me. Perhaps I should not torment myself with memories. I know I should not, yet I want to leave something behind for people to remember me by. Now, as I am finished with this document up to this date, November 20, 1467, I am prepared to set it aside and allow the depression to settle in again. I must delay that for as long as possible. I must! I am a human being, not an insane animal. I am still lost in the growing darkness of my own life and mind, and the endless love for a girl I could not have, but I will not let myself go entirely insane. I will not! I must escape! I need to escape, somehow, some way, as soon as possible, no matter how horrible and complicated the route to freedom.

My life before the horrors started is a safe subject. I will discuss that. Yes, yes, I will discuss that. Perhaps I may even be able to give a rational telling. At the least, I will try. And then after I have read it again, perhaps I will be able to tell whether or not there is still any coherent thought left in the deep, dark wishing well that was once my mind.

At my christening I was named Michael York. I was of mixed English blood, or so I thought. I was born on April 15, 1449, in York, England, son of the Earl of York. Actually, I was possibly illegitimate, my parents being uncertain of whether or not they had conceived me out of wedlock, although I was definitely born after my parents were married. Perhaps that is why my parents were willing to send me away over the seas instead of an estate nearer to home, even if they thought it would only be for a short while. They were, perhaps, ashamed of their own act whenever they looked at me, although they tried their best to keep me happy. I might even have been happy, if it had not been for that girl.

That girl, that woman who is still a child. How I miss her! And now, and now I'll never see her again. She never loved me. I think I always knew that mine was a hopeless love. Still, when she was happy, it made me happy, and it made me so miserable when she lost her freedom. I do not believe I truly cared about my loss, but I will always hate the night. I may soon return home, to England. Or I may stay here forever. I do not care. My life, in essence, is over. There is nothing left for me to do in this world. The next holds more promise.

The people of this other world, the one that lives alongside the world I was born and raised to, they are very kind and seem willing to bear my weight forever. But it is too near to her for me to be comfortable. Too near, without ever a chance of being with her again. A great loss indeed, one that weighs on my soul and leaves a hollow feeling inside my body. I do not know that I can bear it. No more could I have had the heart torn out of my body than loosing her forever. I will be very lonely, I know, but it is more than loneliness, more an inescapable longing for the distant, fiery sun. Living day to day, knowing I must inevitably see her again, yet never being able to look at, to actually see her true personality, to feel it, if indeed she is her own mistress any longer. Perhaps I may, one time before I die. That is all I pray for. To see her, as herself, as free as she always was before. May it not be too much, even for the great God of England.

I have looked this over and noted that my mind wanders without reason. I do still have some control over my thoughts, I think, I hope, but I seem doomed to self torture until God claims my soul. No one can truly free me but her, and I will certainly never be able to do it on my own.

I must go. Roumlie left the room a short while ago to answer the door and is now calling for me to come to see the visitor. Of course it would not do for him to lose his head!

But Cherry. . . .

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

I had all of twelve years' experience behind me when I was first formally introduced to Cherry, and was immediately forced to revise some of my ideas about her. For instance, I had before thought she was simply an unusually unreserved peasant my parents disdained more than the others. That had been the main reason I had gone to so much trouble to meet her when I was seven. To make mischief, to deliberately disobey. I escaped from my tutors and was introduced to a whole world beyond the confining walls of my house, although we did have a great deal of trouble getting over my ideals. She was a girl and a peasant, I was the son of the Earl of York, therefore I should be the leader. Cherry refused to allow that, but I still harbored ideas of 'proper places' for some time. The moment I met Cherry with all the dignity of her rank to back her up was the moment I began to truly treat her as an equal.

Not that her father was so very powerful, either. It was her uncles who, so far without an heir, were two of the most powerful men in England.

I had always known that the girl could be mischievous, temperamental, furious, mysterious, gleeful, and stubborn. Now I saw her with a proud grace, gowned in glistening white of simple style instead of a usual plain gray frock. Her wildly curly hair, generally unruly, was contained in a thin net of gold thread and tiny diamonds. Now, transformed from the meanest in the kingdom into an elegant noblewoman, she curtsied regally before their Royal Majesties and left, accompanied by a man I overheard was her father.

The throne room of King Edward IV's London palace was vast, the walls hung with tapestries, the aisle lined with people, and the whole lit with hundreds of candles in scrolled, golden candelabrum. For the banquet, huge tables were placed precise locations about the room, places set and servants ready to make certain that everyone went to their proper place and to serve the multi-course meal. Once finished greeting the King and Queen before the banquet began, my parents became engaged in discussing my servitude with several nobles, late to start because of my unusual dedication to my studies but necessary now that I had been presented at court in London.

"I already have enough squires," the Earl of Richmond was saying, shaking his head in apology. "But wait, here is my brother. Maybe he has some room. Sam! Come over here!" A sandy haired young man with laughing hazel eyes turned and approached at a lazy stroll. My mother began appraising Cherry instantly. "These are my brother, Ambassador Samuel Tudor, and my niece, his daughter Cherry."

Samuel Tudor bowed extravagantly. Cherry curtsied to a medium degree, staying in position only a few seconds before rising again. She looked at all the people surrounding her, judged them to not be paying attention, then rolled her eyes at me. I instantly understood that this was all a game to her. Cherry was just seeing how well she could act and finding it disgustingly easy. I gaped at her.

Cherry usually was clean, but now she actually looked pretty. She could never be a classic beauty, not with bright red hair, too-pink skin, and violet eyes that really were purple, but anyone could appreciate her comeliness. I could barely get my mind around the idea that she had a last name at all, much less so prestigious a one as Tudor, a Welsh house who had married the Lancasters whose red rose was fighting the white rose of York, my relations. This perfection at less than a woman was the peasant who had taught me to climb trees? At least I did not have to change my ideas about her intelligence, which had always been high. I could only doubt the wisdom of passing herself as a peasant and going off unescorted.

"Sam, this is the head of the house of York. His first son's just been presented, but he doesn't have a place yet. Do you think you could find room?"

"Oh, undoubtedly," he said cheerfully, "as long as he doesn't mind going abroad. We are going off in a week, that's the only reason I brought Cherry with me. What's one more person but less chance for trouble?" And the two brothers exchanged a very significant glance.

I looked at Cherry narrowly. She frowned, then jerked her head slightly towards one wall and caught her father's attention, standing up on tiptoe and pulling down on one shoulder so she could reach his ear. The Ambassador nodded, and Cherry excused herself. Mother instantly suggested I follow her, and I didn't much object to complying.

She moved easily through the crowd despite the awkwardness of fashion and etiquette, arriving in front of a tapestry of a unicorn hunt well before I did. When I arrived there, I placed myself squarely in front of her and met her eyes directly, saying in an irritated tone, "I think you owe me an explanation. . . ." I stopped abruptly, remembering who she was, and thinking that she was likely higher in rank than I was. Only then did she look irritated, so I continued down the middle way between what was proper and what we were used to. "My Lady, and I want it now."

She glanced at me and adopted a prim expression. "I am not responsible for those things you simply assume. I never said I was not a member of the nobility." The pose dropped along with her voice, and she became more like herself again. "Besides, I would never have been able to climb trees in this dress." She shook the skirt. The white embroidery on it shone with a darker luster than the fabric, which was itself less bright than her hair. The jewels of the net, the only ones she was wearing, seemed to me to be less bright than her eyes.

I became abruptly and embarrassingly aware that I was not, after all, too young to appreciate the charms of a lovely young lady. "You look very nice, my Lady," I said honestly.

She glared at me, tapping her slippered toe on the floor in annoyance. I wondered why I still thought her feet would be bare. "Keep your thoughts to yourself. I don't want to hear them."

"Yes, my Lady," I said, giving her the bow my decorum teacher had made me practice so extensively.

"I refuse to be a noblewoman!" Cherry said suddenly, her fists clenching. "I'd rather be a nun."

I raised my eyebrows in what I hoped was a questioning look of mild surprise.

Cherry abruptly whirled around, skirts swirling, to clap her hands over her mouth with shaking shoulders. "Stop that, Michael, you look ridiculous trying to adopt court expressions." When she turned back to me, her lips were still twitching.

Somewhat disgruntled, I relaxed my facial features. "I suppose I should call you Cherry, no matter what."

"If your sense of pride won't let you do that, don't talk to me at all," she retorted snappishly. I remembered suddenly that irritating her too much would not be advisable.

"Cherry." I hesitated, licking my lips, and my voice turned somewhat bitter as I continued. "Cherry, there are too many witnesses here for you to kill me safely." I was referring to an incident some years before, when she had been showing off a pretty pair of field mice she had caught. Walter and Waldemar were a merry twosome, fascinating creatures. A well-dressed lord on a fancy horse had come up and, seeing only Cherry, had shoved her aside disdainfully, then continued on. Cherry had dropped one of her precious pets, and the lord had deliberately ridden over them, laughing. For a moment she had trembled with rage, a rage I had assumed to be helpless, and then she leaped. Thank God I could never remember it properly. What I do recall was myself retching, a trail of blood, and a foul smell in the air, but I never saw a body. Cherry had quite simply said that she had killed him, adding she trusted that I could and would keep a secret, and then left at a lazy run without bothering to extract a promise. Deciding anything was better than having that much blood pouring out of my own vessels, although nothing in her bearing had indicated a threat, I kept the secret.

Cherry grimaced at me. Sometimes I wondered if she even remembered the incident. "Oh, good, Michael, you are still able to identify with me as you could before. I was worried you wouldn't be able to recognize me, all dressed up." The first sentence began sarcastic and the last sentence ended in a sneer. She had never had as high opinion of my intelligence as I had of hers.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. "Cherry, anyone with red hair and purple eyes would be treated pretty much the same as anyone else with the same color hair until a person had solid proof that they were two different people. Your dress can't hide your coloring."

"Hmmpf," she commented, or something much like it, and turned her back on me to stalk away.

"Cherry." She turned back around. "You are pretty."

She looked annoyed and made a slashing motion with her hand, then impudently snapped her fingers under my nose. "That for pretty!" She glanced at her father, and her eyes beginning to become somewhat glazed when she abruptly turned away from me. "I don't think I'll come back to England."

"Why not?" She ignored me. I grabbed her arm to make her look at me. "Why not?"

Her head was regally poised, her shoulders unbowed, and her now stormy purple eyes promised the destruction of whatever next stood in her way. "Michael, you are looking for a broken limb." She paused, waiting for me to let go, then squeezed her eyes shut in a twisting grimace that made me wonder if she was about to cry. "Call it prophecy, irreverence, what you will. Even blasphemy, but," she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, "I do not think I shall be coming back to England for several years after I next leave it." Looking right at me, her purple eyes shining with pity and something else, something indescribable but that chilled me to the marrow just the same, she added, "And given the present circumstances, if the wrong things happen during the time between that which I leave and the deciding point, neither will you."

A shiver ran down my spine, and my stomach turned queasy. I gulped, nodded, and backed away, edging along the wall until I arrived outside in the palace gardens. Then I turned to watch where I was going and began to run, keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen and questioned. The night air was cool, and the late summer flowers were beginning to fold up. Hurriedly finding a secluded spot surrounded by a row of shrubbery, with no one nearby and no one likely to come, I knelt down on the grass, and began throwing up.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

As I approached the correct room at the Golden Eagle, an inn more usually frequented by merchants of a moderately high standing, even outside I could hear low voices inside talking very quickly. The moment I knocked on the door, the talk stopped and a maid opened it. She looked me over quickly, bobbed a brief courtesy, and stood aside for me to come in. "Yessir, Master Michael, my Lord," she said with a certain lack of the proper respect, but somehow at the same time acknowledging my superiority. "The master happen to be a-waitin' for ye. Go on to the next room." She cocked her head in the general direction of a door.

"Thank you," I said, feeling uncomfortable and walking through both open doors. Neither she nor the manservant who was the only other servant I could sense in the vicinity bothered to announce me.

The table Ambassador Tudor had been sitting at was covered with papers, maps, bills, notes, testimonies, vouchsafes, certificates, records, and documents. His chair was facing the wall opposite the one I had come in through. "Michael!" exclaimed Ambassador Tudor, standing up to greet me and shake my hand. "Have a seat." I stood beside the chair next to my new lord. I could see Cherry sitting in another chair, one with a high back. It only half faced the window opposite me, and was a bit too close to the table, a position which made me think it had occupied another space just recently and had been rather hastily moved. Her dress was something of a cross between the one I usually saw her wear and the one she had worn the previous night.

"Are you going to instruct me in my duties, my Lord?" I asked timidly, twisting my hands behind my back after I had made my initial bow.

"What?" He raised his head from his hand. Apparently he had been thinking, and had forgotten about me. I would have to remember that in the future and not disturb him again, but for the moment I repeated my question. "Oh, no, you're not my squire! You're Cherry's." I blinked. "I gave you to her as a birthday present," he explained without explaining it to me. I couldn't quite understand what he meant by that. "She'll instruct you eventually, and until she does, you're essentially free."

I glanced at Cherry again, or rather, Cherry's red hair. It was all I could really see of her. As far as I could tell, she was ignoring us. "Is something wrong with my Lady?" I inquired, just to see if I could get a reaction of her.

"She's a little indisposed just now," replied her father absently, waving one hand while picking up a quill with the other and hunting through the mass of mess of the table.

Placing the various pieces of information together, I came to a reasonable conclusion, even more so knowing Cherry, and put forth my guess. "Don't you mean angry and trying not to show it too much in front of me? My Lord?"

Sir Samuel Tudor gave me a sharp look, almost cutting, then waved my comment away. "Same thing. Having to be polite indisposes Cherry. So you've met her before," he added casually.

"Yes, my Lord."

"What did you think of her disguise?"

I blinked again. That was not the kind of question I would have expected a father to ask. I suppose I had expected him to not know of Cherry's and my adventures together outside of our estates. Certainly my parents would never have approved. I opened my mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say.

"Never mind, don't answer that. Just look at this." He shuffled through the papers, then produced a map of an area. "Romania, in the Germanic Empire, its major city being Bucharest. I am the official ambassador from England. Of course, there are several unofficial ones, but, well, that's politics for you. I have to negotiate a peace treaty. For the good of the world, of course, and the Glory of God, which means I'm to try to bleed their coffers dry for England's benefit."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, determined to think before I dedicated myself to a line of conversation which might involve the dressing-down of Michael York. "It sounds like a worthy cause," I remarked.

He gave me another sharp look, this time disdainful. "You're English."

"Aren't you?"

"Cherry's mother was Romanian," he equivocated, not answering my question as he slipped back into his reverie. This time I had the wisdom to keep my mouth shut. The father was nearly as odd in my views as the daughter. Ambassador Tudor stirred again only to inform me of where my room was and when we would leave. I nodded, bowed again, and left.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

When we left port on the Water Fairy, a large sailing ship capable of holding up to twenty-three passengers, about fifteen other ships and half the poorer population of London saw us off, more because that was where they lived and made their money than out of any desire to see a grand ship set out. It was a grand ship, too, but the only reason we had the use of it was because His Majesty did not need it for anything else. Besides, it paid to be polite to one's half-brother, who might try to usurp the throne, and whose immediate brothers had been pacified by being made two of the most powerful nobles in the Kingdom. Cherry refused to be on deck when we left, promptly retiring to her private cabin, saying that all the noise gave her a headache. When I next saw her, she seemed to be having an argument with her father.

They were below deck, in a sort of dining chamber. The door was open, and I walked in on them. The crew seemed to have vacated that portion of the ship. Ambassador Tudor was sitting, leaning away from his daughter, the angle a little too far back for him to be comfortable in that position. Another chair was laying on its side on the floor. Cherry was standing, her back to me. They were among a lot of candles, within a little circle of light in the dark of a foggy English night. I hid behind a potted plant in a corner of the room, ignoring my conscience, which was screaming at me that a gentleman did not eavesdrop. I told it that I was only twelve years old, a pitiful swordsman, and besides, I was curious.

"Why did you have to invite Michael to come with us?" screamed Cherry. I wondered if that should insult me. "If I ever marry, which I never will, I will like to have chosen my own husband!"

"Cherry, love," said Cherry's father in a much softer tone than his daughter, "I am choosing your husband for you because you will never choose one for yourself. A woman can never be ambassador to Romania. You wouldn't want to be ambassador to Romania even if you could. If it were possible, I would let you choose your own husband, but you refuse to. Anyway, you might find you like Michael."

"I already like Michael, but I don't love him and never will!" Cherry was still screaming, not quite at the top of her lungs. "It is almost impossible for me to love! You know that I do not love you! I didn't love Mother!" Cherry seemed distinctly short of breath, now. She stopped, breathing quickly, but only for a short amount of time. When she started again, it was at a quieter level, each word bit off precisely. "The closest I have ever come to feeling love was with the mice," Cherry said in an almost reasonable voice. "That was why you let me keep them. I can care for them, at least until their funerals are over. I do not care when they have died. If you could find someone who I can love, then I'll marry. I do not want to live with a person that I can't love, and I can't love. So I won't marry! Ever!"

"Cherry . . . " began her father, taking a deep breath for patience.

Cherry, drawing herself up to her full height, which was rather tall for her age, which I guessed was about the same as mine, cut him off saying, "I will not hear it!" with a wave of her hand. In that, Cherry played the imperious noblewoman to perfection, but then ruined it by abruptly becoming, for no apparent reason, mad with fury. She took a step towards him, as though she might even be insane enough to attack her own father, fists clenching and shoulders back. She probably would have if he had not called out.

"Michael!" called Ambassador Tudor in a firm tone. He knew I had been listening. I guiltily came out from behind the plant. Cherry whirled around, with a flushed face. When she saw me, she flushed even more. "Would you kindly take Cherry for a walk? She needs to . . . cool down . . . a mite." Then, putting a hand on my shoulder, he bent down and whispered in my ear, "I would advise you not to talk to her. If she wants to talk, she'll start the conversation." I did not need to be told why I should not to talk to her. Cherry was prone to hysterics. Her father thought I did not know much of Cherry's personality and would say the wrong thing.

Cherry sullenly followed me out of the bright light. In hopes that I should get her to communicate with me, I led her to a map in the prow of the ship and asked her if she knew where we were going. After a few moments, she jabbed at a southern place in the Germanic Empire. It looked as though we should be going there by stagecoach, not ship. The journey would be quicker that way. "How will we get there?" I asked Cherry.

She grimaced at me, answering surlily but in a lecturing manner. "We are only going across the English Channel by boat. When we dock, we will take a stage across France, Switzerland, Austria and Hungary. After Hungary we will be in Romania. We will need to go to Bucharest, which is the capital city of Romania. It may be that we go into the Yugoslavian territory in order to avoid entering the Carpathians. It's a long journey. Father plans to go at approximately one hundred miles each day. So the journey should take about thirteen days. Unless we meet with witches, vampires, or ghosts!" Cherry said these last words maliciously, as if she meant to scare me. I had already found that if she wanted a person scared, she would not use a single word. Luckily, it was not from personal experience.

Just then, I saw a flash of light from a lighthouse, and close to it, the dock lights. A quarter of an hour later we docked. When we, Cherry, Cherry's father, and I, got off, a carriage was waiting for us. When our belongings were securely tied down, the horses took us to a nearby inn, the Golden Eagle, where we bedded down for the night.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Our journey lasted fourteen days, for Cherry had been a little off in her calculations. We were not assaulted by robbers, which is what I suppose Cherry meant by witches, vampires, or ghosts. There we stayed, not at an inn, but at a rather large house reserved for Ambassador Tudor and whatever company he brought with him, namely us. Cherry herself was half Romanian and her mother seemed to have been a Romanian peasant or gypsy. Cherry's father assigned both Cherry and me suites in the west wing, only a short distance apart, while he himself took one in the east wing.

On the day following our arrival, Cherry's father asked us, "Would you care to go for a walk in the woods?" and sent us out together, Cherry wearing her deepest scowl.

After a while, Cherry got over her grouchiness. She hired a goat cart to take us out to the nearest forest and to come back and pick us up again about an hour before sunset. When Cherry got there, she took her shoes off and started to run. She was wearing a short spring green frock and its shortness may have made it easier to run, but I had never seen a girl run as fast as that, and very few men. The trees seemed to make no difference to her. I could not quite tell whether she was dodging the trees or running through them. Not wanting to be separated from her in this area which I did not know well, I took off after Cherry.

When Cherry slowed down, quite out of breath, she seemed to have forgotten me entirely. I then had a chance to catch up. When she came to a complete stop, it was beside a stream. She seemed to know the country well, for the stop came by a pool with many multi-colored fish. I found this when I caught up with her all the way. Cherry was crooning a song in Latin and the fish would cluster around her. Cherry sprinkled crumbs of bread on the surface. The fish would wait until the bread had sunk to the bottom before diving after it. She ignored me, except when I happened to get so close as to let my shadow scare off the fish. Then she rounded on me, angrily ordering me to keep my distance. I backed away warily.

When the fish proved their inner nature too strong for even her magic, and they refused to come back near the surface, she began heading back towards where the goat cart had dropped us off. The goat cart picked us up and took us back to town.

Several days passed in this manner. Cherry made an arrangement with the owner of the goat cart to pick us up at seven each morning and drive us home by sunset. Cherry would ignore me entirely. I believe that Cherry would have liked to leave me in the woods, simply because her father wished for us to marry. If I could convince her that I would not ask her to marry me, then perhaps we could have our old friendship back.

It did not take me long to figure out that she was on good terms with the animals of the forest. Deer would come up to her. Chipmunks, squirrels and rabbits would become extraordinarily tame when she passed near them. Raccoons would push against each other to get near her, yet when I came near, they would quickly scurry away. No carnivorous creature was ever among the crowd of animals near her. The animals would only come when she sang her little Latin song. Translated to English, it goes as follows:

"Come, my pets, sing with me.

Walk through water and trees.

Come, my pets, walk with me,

And I will protect you from

Meat eaters and evil beings."

Cherry started staying out later and later. The goat cart would not pick us up at the same time, by her orders. Her father grew increasingly worried about her and would sometimes have long talks with me about what she did while she was out riding her horse, an occupation of which she was fond. Cherry would stay in the woods until shortly after sunset, never very long. She made friends with mice and flying squirrels. In addition, she started ignoring me even more. She was polite enough to me, but unless I reminded her, Cherry would simply forget I was there. I am sure it was unintentional, but at times, to her mind I did not exist. And she would stay out later than ever.

Once the driver of the goat cart did not arrive on schedule, (which was now about an hour past sunset), so Cherry and I started walking home. About halfway there, we came upon the body of the driver of the goat cart, his neck torn out. The cart itself was in splinters and the carcasses of the goats were half eaten. "Wolves," breathed Cherry and the cry of one rang out in the stillness.

The figure of either a man or a boy appeared a short distance away from us. I hailed him and the figure started towards us.

"Michael," said Cherry, looking uncertainly at the advancing figure of a human as she hugged her arms close around her, "I would not do that if I were you."

However, it was too late. The figure was very close now, close enough so that even in the dim moonlight I could make out his features. He was a young boy of about my own age. His face was as white and as cold as the stars. His eyes, perhaps black, the same as the color of his hair, glittered as he looked upon us.

"Are you in need of assistance?" he asked, disregarding the body laying near us as much as and in the same manner as Cherry had been disregarding me for the past month. His voice and manner did not suit his age. They would have been more seemly on an adult.

"Yes," replied Cherry coldly. "We are lost. I think we are going in the wrong direction back to Bucharest."

"I will take you there. I am a native of these parts," he said, stepping forward and caught Cherry's hand as she attempted to step away from him. Cherry gave a short, sharp cry, as though she had been stung. Her entire body grew tense as she looked at him fearfully, but she followed him meekly. I noticed that this was unusual behavior for her and also that we were not going in the right direction back to town.

"Are you not coming?" asked the boy. I hurried after Cherry and the boy, reluctant to leave the former in the latter's power.

"My name is Baslon," said the boy. Then he looked at Cherry expectantly.

Cherry swallowed, turning her head away from him, yet held it high. "I am Cherry Amano Tudor. This is Michael York."

I glanced behind me, and suddenly I felt as though I had to do something. We were going farther away from the city of Bucharest and if we went much farther, even in the daylight we would not be able to see it. "Where are you taking us?" I yelled.

"Michael!" screamed Cherry, not with concern, but with irritation. Baslon's cold face grew distorted with cold anger. He raised his fist. He seemed to grow before me. Even as I raised my arms to ward off the blow, I fell unconscious.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

I woke up on a soft surface. I tried to sit up and found that I could with only a small amount of dizziness. I looked around the room I was in. There was only the bed I was sitting on, a small desk/dresser, a candle glass lamp on a hook on the wall and a chair. There were two doors. One led to a shower room. The other was locked. There were no windows. I was locked in.

I heard voices in another room. I believed that they belonged to Cherry and Baslon, and was soon proved to be correct.

"I think Michael should be awake by now," said Cherry.

"I don't doubt it. Why think on him, though? What concern is he of yours?" asked Baslon, whom by now I no longer thought human, but a madman or maniac.

"I feel responsible for him. Why did you take us both?"

"He is to be your serving boy, as I have already told you. Usually the process takes only one week. However, for a mate, special treatment is involved."

"It's not the custom of the vampire to bring his victim to his home, is it?"

A laugh. "No, but your father is to leave for England soon and I don't think he would have left you here, even if he knew you would receive the gift of eternal life."

"The sun will soon rise."

"Then I must leave you now, but first, here is the key to the servant's quarters."

"I wish that you would not call Michael a servant."

Baslon laughed. "That is exactly what he is. Or what he will be. I will call him just what I like. I do not think that you will argue with me. It will be but a few months before you cannot argue with me. You will not know how to. I'll leave you now." I heard a door open and close. Shortly afterwards there came a sigh. There was a rustling of skirts and a scraping sound, as of metal on polished wood. I assumed that it was the key to open my quarters scraping across a table.

My presumptions were soon to be proved correct, for my door was opened by Cherry, looking very tired, but as she had no doubt not slept for a while, I thought nothing of it. She did not look harmed in any other way.

"Michael," she said with a heavy sigh as she first opened the door, not even bothering to give me a chance to greet her, "I do not think you should act like you are not a servant while night reigns. You might even rather not to be seen during the night time. It could get you killed."

I was not exactly in the mood for being told that not being submitting would kill me. "Why did that . . . person . . . bring us here?" I demanded instead. "And where is here?"

"Here is a fairly large castle rather high up in the Transylvanian Alps. 'That person,' as you so aptly named him, is a vampire. When a vampire sees something he wants, he takes it, unless a more powerful force keeps him from it. Baslon wanted me." I could feel the puzzlement forming on my face. Cherry paused, as if thinking, then looked faintly surprised. "Don't you know what a vampire is, Michael?"

"No," I replied, "but I am sure it must be something horrible."

Cherry shrugged. "Then I will explain. A vampire is . . . not human, for a start. Not entirely mortal, either. They are creatures of the night. They suck the blood from human victims over a period of days, in order to survive. Sometimes no one notices what happens, but when enough blood has been taken for the victim to die, the victim becomes a vampire in the power of the vampire who made him or her a vampire."

"He is not going to do that to you!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, he is. He has not started quite yet, though. You will be able to tell when he has begun when there are two small wounds on the side of my neck. They will be the marks of his teeth." Cherry was now sitting in an elegant maroon chair of the kind that is comfortable as well as decorative. She had signaled me to a nearly identical one.

"Would you let him do such a thing to you? Why would anyone wish to kill another creature?"

"Why does the human hunter kill the deer? For food and for sport. The vampire rarely kills for sport. And the victim lives on after death. In many ways, the vampire is less cruel than the human." Cherry sighed. "In response to your first question, a vampire has the power of hypnosis. If you look into a vampire's eyes, the vampire will have you in his complete power." Cherry's brow furrowed, as if thinking. "A vampire will live forever," she half chanted, as if reciting a lesson. "He can turn into any kind of animal. A vampire's senses are unnaturally keen. They are very strong and very swift, and probably cleverer than the average human. Anyway, if you think that we will be able to escape, you are incorrect. All doors in the castle are kept locked invariably, and all windows near the ground are too small for even an infant to fit through."

I thought for a moment. "Do you think that you can show me about the house?"

"Of course I can, Michael. I am going to have to. You must act like a serving boy during the night and if I should need something outside of the room during the night, you must get it. I shall have my meals in the daytime, as I do not think you can cook. Baslon would think it strange that a person with a servant and not much for the servant to do should cook. Now come. The house is large and I have not seen much of it. We must be able to find our way through several of the rooms ere night falls." Saying this, Cherry got up and led me through many passageways to the door of the house. It was large and could not have been moved by ten people, even if it were not locked. The room Cherry now lived in was far from the front door and all of the way there was very richly furnished, although very old fashioned.

"Cherry, what did Baslon mean by 'special treatment for a mate'?" I asked.

"I think that for a mate it takes longer, maybe so the mate will be more powerful, or more obedient, or have a more vivid personality. I am not sure." Such was Cherry's reply.

"No, that is not what I meant. What did he mean by a mate?" I asked again.

"A bride," said Cherry softly. "Baslon intends to make me his bride."

"I thought that you would not marry against your will!" I exclaimed.

"I have no choice. When a vampire sees something he wants, he takes it. That includes whoever he wishes for a bride. Of course, a vampire can usually make it seem that the bride to be truly loves him, even to the bride. Not yet with me, though." She paused. "I am not sure, but I think that it may be near sundown. If that is the case, then we should return to our rooms." Cherry started walking quickly back the way that we had come. I followed her as best I could.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

When we got to the rooms, Cherry pulled back the red velvet curtains from a window in her living room, the only window in her suite and peeked out. It had real glass in it, instead of paper.

"The sun is near the horizon and halfway gone," she stated flatly.

"That means that Baslon will be coming soon?" I asked.

"Yes. I do not know if he will start the process tonight or not."

"What process?"

"The process of turning me into a vampire."

I took a nervously deep breath and looked out of the window in my turn. The sun was lower in the sky than Cherry had said it was and was slowly going lower. Shortly after the last rays went out, there came a knock on the door.

Cherry collapsed into a chair at the sound. "Michael," she begged, "please open the door for me." Her face was ashen gray. I was startled at the change that had come over her, so I did as she asked.

It was Baslon and Cherry probably knew it was so and dreaded him. As soon as I opened the door he stepped inside. "Lead me to her," he said gently, but it was the gentleness that comes with hate. I think it was me he hated. I was able to quickly do as he asked, as Cherry's dining room (which was the room that opened to the hall door) was directly next to the living room. Baslon smiled when he saw Cherry. She rose to greet him, although when he came toward her she stepped away. I could tell full well that she was afraid of him, by this action and the look on her face. Baslon acted very gently towards her, trying to help her to sit down, (although she refused this assistance) asking her questions and giving her time to answer them before he asked another. I think that he truly was in love with her.

"Who is your mother?" was one of the questions Baslon asked. "She is from Romania. I think that she came back here soon after my third birthday." Cherry seemed afraid even to not answer his questions. Her voice trembled.

"What was she? What was her position in life?"

Cherry made a garbled sound in her throat. "I don't know. I think she may have been a gypsy of some sort."

"What talents do you have?"

"I am not sure what you consider talents."

"I consider anything that you care to tell me a talent. Of course, perhaps you do not wish to boast about yourself. Perhaps I should ask your servant," and here he looked very hard at me, "about your talents. What talents does your mistress possess?" he asked me. I stared back at him, fascinated.

"Answer him, Michael," said Cherry absently, after I had not done so for a few moments.

"She is a swift runner," I said without willing myself to. My voice went on while I listened to it, listing things that I had not actually thought of. "Cherry can sing beautifully and play a good many musical instruments. She is a powerful swimmer and an excellent horsewoman." Most of these things I had found out about Cherry while I had stayed with her and her father. But her humming was much better, if in a different way, than her singing.

"We have several good horses here," said Baslon to Cherry. "I hope to see how well you can ride. Would you care to show me now?"

I could not help but see the excitement in Cherry's face. "Yes," she said. Baslon took her hand. Cherry gave a sharp cry and snatched her hand away. Baslon looked surprised.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Your hand," Cherry replied, backing away. "You're too cold. It hurts to touch you." Baslon smiled, with a queer gleam in his eye. "I think I know how to fix that," he said.

"How?" inquired Cherry.

"Look at me."

Cherry recoiled from him, aghast. Baslon grabbed her arm, taking care that he should touch her sleeve and not her skin.

"Come, now," he said. "Surely you are not afraid! It would be better for you. I would not have to force you and that might harm you."

Cherry bit her lip. She fixed her eyes on his collar, so that she might watch him without looking at his face. Cherry twisted her hand around, trying to free herself.

"Come, come. It would end your misery here. You will forget your family and friends. You will know only this house. Soon you will have to do it, so why not now?" Baslon was speaking in a gentle, firm voice, as one might use when speaking to a favorite dog. He would step toward Cherry and she would step back, turning a little so as to avoid the wall.

"Yes, why not?" he continued. "Why will you not come now? Look at me. Look into my eyes. You will find happiness there. Why do you hesitate? You are only harming yourself. An intelligent person would do it instantly. Are you not an intelligent person? Hurry, I am getting impatient! I might leave and then you would not get to ride the horses."

Now Baslon changed his form of speech. He began talking to Cherry as if she were an infant. "Don't you want to ride the horses, little one? Lots of horses. All colors, all sizes. Lots and lots of pretty horses. And some not so pretty. Don't you want to see the horses? Don't you want to ride the horses? I want you to ride the horses. Won't you show me how well you can ride, little one? Just look into my eyes and you can ride the pretty horses."

"No," said Cherry and that one word seemed to end everything. Baslon let go of her arm. Cherry sat down and closed her eyes.

"All right," said Baslon. "You win. For tonight. Perhaps tomorrow you will get to ride. Or perhaps not. That depends on what kind of mood I am in and on how stubborn you are."

Cherry did not give a reply. Perhaps Baslon did not expect one. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek and then, perhaps thinking better of it, he drew it back and departed the room. Before he left, he grabbed my sleeve roughly said to me in and angry voice, "Tomorrow you will be required to get a horse ready to ride. Choose the horse and equipment you think is best for your mistress. The front door will be unlocked. You will not be able to escape." So he left.

"Is he gone yet?" asked Cherry in a barely audible whisper. Her eyes were still closed.

"Yes," I told her.

Cherry opened her eyes. The violet seemed unnatural. "I think," she said, "that you should try to avoid Baslon's path for a while. He is angry. He will not harm me, I think, but he may take it out on you."

"What did he mean when he said we would not be able to escape?"

"It doesn't matter. If he said it, it will probably be true."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

The next day, Cherry led me to the doors. As long as daylight lasted, Cherry had the run of the place. We found the doors already open enough, and that was good, as we would not have been able to open it ourselves. They were only open a slight crack. Cherry squeezed through first, for she had the slimmer body, and then I went.

The courtyard was vast. It was chilly, but not so much that many types of plants could not grow there. There was a high wall all around it, with only one gate as far as I could see. Most plants were trees or shrubberies. There were few flowers and little or no grass. Cherry looked around in awe, then seeming to pull herself together, started to walk in a wandering fashion.

"Come on, Michael," she called over her shoulder. "We have to search for the stables. It may be a long search." Needless to say, I hurried after her.

Cherry walked briskly, her neck arched slightly so as to hear any neighs or other such sound that might lead us to the stables. Her red hair flowed behind her like a mane. She lifted her feet up rather farther off the ground than was usual for a human and on the whole looked very much like a horse herself.

We had gone halfway around the castle before we found the stables and tack room. There was a wide corral just outside. When we looked in the stables, we found that Baslon had lied by saying that he had all colors of horses. There were nine horses, all the same color. That color was black. All were of a different variety. The first four were Arabian and then came four thoroughbreds. The last one was not exactly a horse. It was a black Shetland pony.

"Which one do you want?" I asked Cherry.

"I think I prefer an Arabian horse with a hunting saddle," said Cherry.

I looked rather skeptically at her long green dress with full skirts. "Would you rather have a side saddle? Or should I saddle her. . . ."

"Him," corrected Cherry. "He's a gelding. They're all geldings."

I continued. "Should I saddle him while you change?"

"Just a second, please," said Cherry. She half turned and, suddenly, she was wearing a white linen blouse with woolen yellow breeches and a black velvet riding jacket. Instead of the velvet brocade slippers she had been wearing, on her feet were black knee high leather riding boots. Her head, which before had sported a neat bonnet, was now bare. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a braid with a large white ribbon.

Cherry laughed at my gawking. "Michael, I think you had better sit down somewhere and rest."

Not knowing what else to do, I did, right in the dust outside of the stable.

"I can saddle a horse by myself, you know. I know that you have never seen me ride side saddle before. It is uncomfortable and unnecessary, since there are no laws that say women and girls must to wear dresses."

"Sorry," I remarked. I thought that it might be dangerous to disagree with her, since I had seen an example of what she might be able to do.

"Don't be," said Cherry. "Anyway, it might be a long while before I get to ride a horse again, or even go outside. I should make the best of it, and you should as well."

Cherry went into the tack room. She returned carrying a black saddle and bridle, which she set upon one of the lower branches of the many trees around us. She went into the stables and led out the high-spirited Arabian. Cherry then draped the lead rope over a low hanging branch. Although the horse pranced and whinnied nervously, it did not run away. Cherry carefully inserted her middle and index finger into the horses mouth, pressing its teeth apart. She then quickly pushed the bit in, slipping the halter on at the same time. The reins went over the branch as Cherry took the lead rope off. The saddle went over the horse's back. Cherry fastened the girth before adjusting the stirrups to the right length. Then she rechecked the girth, tightening it again. She grasped the saddle, put her left leg into the left stirrup and quickly pulled herself up and swung her right leg over.

Before starting the true riding, Cherry began to test the horse for its paces. She had it walk, trot and canter in both left and right figure eights. Finally Cherry set off at a goodly paced gallop around the castle and came back looking fairly pleased.

"This is a good horse," she said to me. "He goes at a fast pace and seems to have good endurance, and he turns at the slightest touch of the reins. A good carriage horse. Very likely is a carriage horse. There was very little choice for riding tack, although much driving tack." She sounded pleased.

"I'm glad you like him," I muttered, looking at the sun. It was getting low in the sky, meaning day was almost over and night would soon come. That meant Baslon would soon come.

Cherry also glanced at the sky and the pleased expression left her face. In fact, all expression left her face. It was a complete blank. This meant that she was not pleased. She wheeled the horse around and trotted into the foliage of the garden.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

A short while later, Baslon appeared. He was carrying a small candle glass lamp. He looked disdainfully at me, asking at the same time, "Where is Cherry?"

Cherry must have been hiding a very short distance away, for she came almost immediately. "Come down off of the horse," Baslon ordered.

Cherry looked ready to disobey, but she slipped off obediently. "What do you want?" she asked him defiantly. "I'm quite ready to show you my riding skills, but if that had been what you came for, I'd still be on the horse." She shook the reigns at him.

Baslon smiled ironically. "I think you know the answer to that question," he said. "If you don't, then it is the same thing I wanted last night."

Cherry started at this. She instantly put her hands on the saddle and hoisted herself back onto her horse. "If that is all, then the answer is no." She backed the horse up a few steps and sat tall in the seat, looking down at Baslon. "It's a useless request, so why bother asking at all?"

"Because," said Baslon, "I want to have your love in return for mine when I start the process. I know of no other way to make you love me. Do you? Do you know of a way to make a girl love who has sworn never to do so? Or to make her even like a person whom everyone hates? Answer me that."

Cherry looked surprised at this response. She might not have noticed that Baslon loved her, as I did. "I...I," she stammered, taken aback. She flushed, struggling to get her tongue back under her own control.

"Come down," ordered Baslon.

Cherry refused and looked down at him straight into his eyes for a moment before her eyes slightly glazed over from sharp amethyst to soft lilac. When this happened she quickly pulled her face away and swayed a little in her seat. The horse reared up, pawing at the air with his hooves, neighing viciously. I smiled grimly.

Cherry had often displayed this trick at the ambassador's house back in Bucharest, in order to cause someone worry over her. It had been several weeks before the stablemen figured out she was a better rider than they thought. Sometimes she had even fallen off. She knew how to handle a horse and it was largely this trick I had been referring to when I had mentioned how well she could ride to Baslon.

Baslon obviously either doubted Cherry's riding prowess or knew little of horses, for he instantly came forward to grasp the Arabian's reins, which Cherry had let go to make her act seem more realistic. Cherry let the horse drop just before Baslon was under the horses hooves. Baslon jumped back and looked at Cherry in a admonishing manner.

"I warn you," he said, "don't try that again. It won't work."

"How would you manage that?" asked Cherry. "You can't untrain a horse. A horse acts on instinct, not reason, so you can't hypnotize him. If you plan to avoid it, I just might catch you outside with your back turned to me. So how will you do that?"

"I might hypnotize the rider of the horse," replied Baslon, his voice almost deadly soft.

Cherry looked at him and their gazes locked for about one and a quarter minutes before Cherry's eyes began to glaze over and she looked away. "How will you do that?" she asked. "How long can you keep me looking at you for one time? Not long enough, I think. Unless I am willing for you to, there is very little chance that you will hypnotize me. No, you won't force me to look at you. It would be useless."

Baslon considered this for a moment. Then he asked, "How much human blood is there in you?"

Cherry looked alarmed at this question. She carefully chose her next words, saying them slowly and in a low voice. "What causes you to ask this question?"

"What human do you know that can hold my gaze for even a short amount of time?" retorted Baslon. "Surely not your servant!" he added scornfully.

"Do not call Michael that," she snapped, to the obvious displeasure of Baslon.

"I also know," continued Baslon, perhaps in an attempt to avoid answering her, "that I gave you no change of clothes, yet each day you wear something different! Do you think me foolish enough not to notice that?"

"Michael has not noticed it and he is no fool." Cherry's voice trembled and she backed her horse up a few paces. Her glance at me was doubtful. Either she had lied of her true opinion of my intelligence, or was hoping for protection and doubted it would come from the source that would try to give it. Either way, I was a bit insulted.

Baslon looked annoyed. Cherry was disobeying him and trying to refute his authority over her, and he could not permit that. "Stop stalling! Yes, your servant has not noticed, but a common human boy might not be observant enough to see. Are you human or witch? Are you a sorceress? Answer me quickly now!"

"I am. . . . Your guess is correct," said Cherry, her voice hard with anger. Wincing, I expected her at any time to leap upon Baslon and bear him to the earth, kicking and scratching. She had done this at home when anyone tormented her, in a certain fashion, that is, and generally there were several broken bones, none of which had belonged to Cherry. Although her gaze was frosty, she avoided his dangerous black eyes and remained where she was, to my surprise, and that increased when she answered him instead of infuriating him by refusing. I would never have called her wise before that moment. "My mother was neither a peasant nor a gypsy, as many thought, but the Queen of the elf tribe Mnerecros. I have . . . inherited some of her skills."

"But," said Baslon, "I know that no witch or warlock can hold his or her own against a vampire for very long."

"No true witch against a powerful vampire," corrected Cherry, with a scowl. "I am half witch and half human. I may have powers no witch has ever had and powers that I have not yet discovered."

"Then again," said Baslon, taunting, "with only half the proper blood, there is more likely to be some deficiencies, or a taint somewhere. Do not get overconfident. I may be forced use it against you." He stared directly at her. Cherry carefully observed the pommel of her saddle. Satisfied that he had browbeaten her back into a form of submission and probably making a resolve to continue grinding her slowly down, he switched tactics. "Now, to our reason for being her. You may commence your demonstration of your riding skills. Start at a walk."

Cherry walked her horse in several figure eights and then suddenly switched to a quick posting trot. She enlarged it when it came to cantering and continued the pattern into a gallop. Then, with a mischievous glance at Baslon, which I recognized from her worst pranks, she pressed the horse to go faster and faster until, changing direction, she charged straight at Baslon and jumped over his head! He ducked instinctively, then turned to scowl at her furiously. She ignored that rashly. "There," said Cherry with the faintest of smiles as she brought her horse to a walk, "I have tried it again and it worked. You see that I make my own opportunities now, don't you? You shouldn't say anything around me without being sure of what you are saying. I can twist it, or turn it into a lie."

Throughout this speech of Cherry's, Baslon had been growing more stiff and angry. When Cherry finished speaking he remained frozen for a moment, then jumped forward and in one swift motion grabbed Cherry's arm and pulled her off the horse. Cherry screamed in pain, fear, anger and surprise.

"Let go!" she shrieked, struggling and wiggling like an earthworm.

"Be quiet!" said Baslon fiercely, and his hand went to her neck, putting pressure on the spot in an attempt to get her to obey him. "And be still!"

Cherry grew rigid with Baslon's hand at her throat. She bit her lip, while I could see unshed tears standing bright in her eyes. "Let go," she whispered.

Baslon circled her until he was standing directly in front of her. He cupped his free hand gently under her chin, carefully forcing it up. She looked at him unwillingly.

I was stunned by the contrast, with their faces so close, ruddy skin against deathly white, red hair and black hair, somewhat fearful violet eyes looking into proud black ones. There was very little difference in their heights, Cherry being but an inch or two shorter, but that was the only similarity. Cherry's eyes began to slightly glaze over. She tried now to move her head away, but Baslon held it there. His strength was greater than hers, enough greater that she could not get loose. As Cherry's eyes clouded over even more, her struggles gradually subsided. Her eyes began turning white and watery. With a last struggle that nearly worked, she closed her eyes, this I imagine being quite relieving to them, and slumped and nearly fell to the ground.

Baslon caught her before she reached the ground, although he did not right her, and Cherry moaned. Her riding outfit was wrinkled, her helmet had fallen off. "You can feel nothing," he said softly. "You can feel neither cold, nor pain, nor heat. You can feel nothing and never will be able to feel again. You are completely deprived of your sense of touch." Cherry moaned again and nodded slightly. Baslon bent over and picked her up in both his arms, where she lay like a limp doll. The ribbon keeping her hair in a braid fell out, letting her hair fall in gentle curls, like rubies and gold in a miser's hands, over Baslon's arm. Altogether, the pose was striking and rather romantic, but fear swallowed any sensation I might have had about this at that time. I squeaked, drawing Baslon's attention, but he was fortunately too occupied with Cherry to decide to harm me. "Take care of the horse, boy," he ordered me as he rounded the corner of the castle.

Half of me wanted to obey him, if only for the chance not to see what was going to happen to Cherry and half of me wanted to follow, to protect Cherry. My reason said that Cherry would not want help even if it would save her life and her soul and I could not help her even if she did want me to. I decided to take care of the horse, since I might be able to help her, eventually, if I stayed alive.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

When I left the stables, the sun was rising. I may have unconsciously planned it this way, to avoid seeing Baslon, or it could have just happened that I finished cleaning and putting away the tack at this time. I wandered along the corridors dismally, getting lost twice, wishing I knew what could be done, if something could be done, and what should be done. When I got to Cherry's rooms, Cherry was sitting in a chair by the fireplace in the living room with her face turned away from me. Her right hand was fingering the side of her neck nervously. The white dress she was wearing was cut low at the neck. Her neck was rather pink and, as far as I could see, no wound marked it. There was a small fire burning in the fireplace and the curtains were drawn close. There was no other light.

"Michael."

The unexpected noise, however soft, startled me. Cherry sounded hopeless, as though there was nothing left worth living for. That rather unnerved me. It took a moment before I could answer her. "Yes?"

She stood up slowly, with a great sigh, turning around so as to look at me. I could now see all of her neck and it appeared that Baslon had not yet bitten her. As far as I could tell with my limited experience, the occasion could still have been much better than it was.

There was a commanding air about her and the usual laughing air was gone. She stood tall and straight, looking me directly in the eye, almost daring me to comment. There was also an immeasurable sadness, and for a moment, while she held my eyes, I almost thought my heart would break. Then we both looked away from each other, her over my head, I at the ground. I think I would have preferred puncture holes on her neck than this strange, awful new form of Cherry.

She looked me over and laid a reddish hand with long, unkempt nails on my shoulder. Those nails, which I had seen tear chunks out of human bodies, were possibly the only imperfection about her. I do not know that Cherry generally took much care over her appearance, but just now, to my eyes, she was gorgeous. On the middle finger lay a single ring of plain gold. I probably would not have noticed this if it were not for the fact that Cherry never wore jewelry and did not like dresses. "Good," said she suddenly, turning away to sit back down in her chair. "Your neck is stainless."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Cherry stood up, turning back to me briefly, and looked me over again, then shook her head sadly and looked away. "Michael, you didn't think that Baslon was the only vampire in the castle did you?" was her only response. She moved and sat down in her chair again, this time facing me. The chair had somehow turned around while Cherry was out of it. I sat in a wicker chair nearby and awkwardly patted her hand. Her purple eyes were luminous as she regarded me. "Anyway, it won't matter now if you die. I'll be dying too." Her head drooped slightly and her eyes closed. She jerked it up. "You should get some sleep. It's morning, and you have been awake for almost twenty four hours."

"All right," I said uncertainly, standing up and turning to go.

"No," said Cherry with a sudden snap, "all is not right. I'm dying. Does that seem right to you?"

"You are not yet bitten, are you?" I cried, turning back abruptly.

"No." Her face was bitter. "I am dying of misery and loneliness. It will not be long now before the vampire bites me, but I figure that if I can die before then, then I may possibly save my soul." She bit her lip. "You may leave, now, Michael." Cherry sighed as I left the room.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

I went back to my small room and laid down on the hard bed, thinking morose thoughts. If Cherry was so different now, after a strange hypnosis and a few months' imprisonment, then what would she be like when Baslon finally turned her into a vampire? I envisioned several pictures of her throwing me across the room whenever I displeased her. She was strong even as a human, or rather, as a half human. How strong would she be once a vampire? Her magical power would probably also increase, if I understood anything correctly. She would become very dangerous then, perhaps the most dangerous thing that had ever come out of England. There was at least one thing, perhaps only one thing, that I did know beyond a doubt, though. That was that if Cherry was turned into a vampire, then I would definitely die, either of blood loss or broken heart.

I was a hostage, of course, Baslon's guarantee of her good behavior. Cherry held me in at least some esteem, or she might have let me be killed long ago, but that might just have been her morality and conscience. Certainly I might not survive long when Baslon became more and more demanding, wanting things the little girl was not prepared to give, things that might shock her to the depths of her soul. Poor Cherry. And poor me, too. The two of us, with only each other in imprisonment, and only a horror met every night as relief from the monotony of the days. There was very little to look forward to. Only slight possibilities of escape, many strong probabilities of losing our souls. If I hadn't been lied to, played by a clever actress, but I truly believed Baslon had very little in the way of good planned for either of us. Loss of life and soul, and what else was there, but earth, hell, heaven, and God? Nothing, no hope, no happiness, only a prolonged misery and the downfall of all.

My God! what was I thinking? No, I must resist that! No man must embrace the devil, was the doctrine of the church. And Cherry, she seemed to be resisting complete depression, with all her might, perhaps, but she was doing it. If Cherry refused to give in all the way, could I do any less? What if she needed me, needed my support to lean on as long as she was to keep free of utter dejection? Then I must not give in, must keep going, if only for her sake. And for her sake, I could do it.

While thinking these thoughts, I realized that I felt a sort of possession over Cherry, although Cherry would not like it if she knew I felt that way. At home, I had sometimes been able to prevent Cherry from growing angry when someone insulted her in a certain way. She had a hot temper, when she was angry, but only certain things could make her angry. You could be throwing stones at her while she was rereading one of the few books I would occasionally smuggled to her, and she wouldn't even notice it, much less pay attention, but some things could cause you your health if you talked about it in Cherry's presence. One young man had died of open wounds after a few days. To be a vampire fitted Cherry's personality's side that was rather over-aggressive, but in her normal state, she was so gentle and innocent, it was hard to see her angry at all. The lion can hide behind the dove, but will come out to protect it, I suppose would be one way of expressing Cherry's personality. Another would be, remember that Lucifer himself was once an angel.

But if she were a vampire, I wouldn't be able to restrain her from growing angry, and everyone would die. Of course, some people would live on after death, but some people would also die for no reason. I would lose any power I had over Cherry. I did not want her to become a vampire, regardless of how greedy and selfish some of my intentions were. If I could save her, then knew that I would. But just then I could not think of any way to save her other than killing Baslon, and I did not know how one went about killing a vampire. There must be a way, I thought determinedly, and fell asleep.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

A few days later, Cherry led me through some of the more beautiful rooms in the castle. Actually, Cherry went through them and I just tagged along. Occasionally she would make some offhand remark to me, but all in all, she acted almost exactly like she had in the woods. The main dining room had scenes of an Egyptian hunt on the walls of this octagon shaped room. Not that I was especially interested in them, but any archaeologist or collector of antiques would have found them fascinating. The table was long and made of polished oak. Not just the legs and corners, as in most tables, but the top as well was intricately carved. The chairs around the table were much the same, with high, thin backs and red velvet seats. There were about fifteen on each side and one at each end, so approximately thirty two people could be seated there. Cherry ran her fingers through the dust in the table and examined the art work on the chairs. She glanced at the walls, all eight of them and stroked the strings of a harp in one corner before leaving.

The next room Cherry went to was a ball room. It was immense. Cherry measured the walls with her feet and told me to remember the dimensions. They were one hundred paces by five hundred paces. As each of Cherry's steps was about three feet, or a yard in length, the room would be about six hundred feet by three thousand feet. Cherry's measuring took up the space of one hour, as she had walked around instead of run. The walls were painted in bright colors. Portraits of several famous personages adorned them, such as the Caesar. There was an organ in one corner and near it a harp. There were several boxes of instruments lying around. Cherry opened all of them and tried a bassoon, a cornet, a flute, a lyre, a violin, a recorder, a guitar, a clarinet and a set of bagpipes. She also played a waltz on the organ, which had five keyboards and a large assortment of stops.

Cherry walked to the middle of the floor and looked up. The ceiling was high but flat. It was painted in dark colors with no specific pattern or picture, just a combination of swirls, dots and lines. The dark wood of the floor was so well polished that it reflected this strange ceiling. Cherry tried a few dance steps and called to me.

"Michael," said Cherry, still looking up. "Would you please come here?"

I came to her and with a sweet, mischievous smile at me, she took my hands in hers and started to dance. I simply followed her lead, altogether too astonished for the moment to do anything else, watching her feet for a while before recognizing the dance. When I did, Cherry smiled at me again and pursed her lips in a high whistle. When she lowered the whistle, the instruments in the corner that she had played began to play on their own. I recognized the music, remembered the steps that went with it and swept Cherry around in a circle. We continued the dance for a while and when the song ended, Cherry fell back laughing.

"Well, Michael, am I still like I was yesterday?" she asked me, lavender eyes dancing.

"You knew that I thought you were different?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course," said Cherry. "I am a mind reader as well as a fortune teller. You did not seem to be surprised when the instruments began to play."

"That's because I was surprised you were dancing with me. You didn't dance much at the ambassador's house, or at home in England. I thought you didn't like me any more." I ended on a plaintive note.

"Baslon ordered me to be different. He did not say for how long and that usually means forever, but my better side resisted, so I set my own time limit. You may have noticed that my first remark had to do with your health?" She did not specify how Baslon had ordered her.

"I didn't notice. I was too upset at the change. You are not like you were yesterday, you understand. That is to answer your question." I stepped forward on impulse to kiss her.

Cherry stepped back, holding her hands up, saying, "Oh, no, you don't." She smiled at me again, but with a rather wary look in her eyes, and I smiled back warmly. "The reason I didn't talk to you much today was because I was fighting to get control of myself, instead of letting Baslon control me." She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "I think we should be getting back to our rooms, though. I'm a bit tired."

In our rooms, Cherry sat down at the dining room table. We did not need to cook (anyway, we had never found the kitchen) because each time we slept at night, food had been placed on the table, enough to feed two for a day. Occasionally we had not had the chance to sleep or go out of the room and had gone hungry.

Now we enjoyed a delicious supper and Cherry afterwards retired to her room. I wandered around the suite awhile and glanced out the window in the living room, the only window in the suite. It was only noon and I was rather tired. Therefore I went to my room and lay down, not intending to sleep, but doing so anyway.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

When I woke up and exited my room, it was just in time to answer the door when Baslon knocked. He always did, although I could not see why he should need to. I opened the door.

"I expect that Cherry is in the living room, as usual?" he asked me.

I bit my lip to keep myself from trying to attack him. "Actually, sir, I think she's in bed, although I'm not sure. I just woke up myself."

"Oh?" Baslon raised an eyebrow. "It is dangerous to sleep in this castle," he said. "Go and wake her up." I went and knocked softly on Cherry's bedroom door, leaving Baslon in the dining room. "Come in," said Cherry softly. I opened the door. Cherry was not in her bed at all, but sitting in a chair by an empty fireplace. She looked thoughtful.

"Cherry," I said, "Baslon is here."

Cherry groaned and got up. Her hair brushed against the high back of the chair and caught. It took her a few moments to work it loose. The dress she was wearing was as red as her hair, with a high collar. "Escort him into the living room, please, Michael," she said.

I went back to the dining room. "Cherry is awake and is waiting for you," I told him, feeling like a butler. He looked at me in a strange way, so I added, "Sir."

"Good," he grunted and went directly to the living room, where Cherry was. "Good evening, my Lady," he said to her. "Hopefully you are well?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Cherry, looking at him, but not in the eye. "If you mean, am I ready to do whatever you tell me to, then no. If you mean, am I healthy in body, then yes. If you mean, am I healthy in mind and spirit, then no."

"You are impertinent," said Baslon crossly. "Come here and let me fix it."

"I have already told you that I will not do whatever you say. My willpower is much stronger than you seem to think it is." Cherry smiled mischievously up him.

Baslon frowned. "Behave yourself. Tonight I am going to honor you greatly. I could change my mind."

"I don't like being honored. I never have. Isn't that right Michael?" I was standing by her chair, but she did not look at me. I nodded slightly, altering my glance as much as Cherry. Like her, I was watching Baslon.

Baslon offered his hand to Cherry, though she did not take it. "What did you do today?" he asked.

"Today, I explored the castle," responded Cherry wearily but obediently. "I went to the main dining room, the ballroom and the west tower."

"Ah. What did you do there?"

"I played some of the instruments and measured the ball room. I tried to dance, but it is hard with no partner." I started to open my mouth, then thought better of it and held my peace.

"Would you care to dance with me, then?"

Cherry stood up with a rustling of skirts. She looked at him quizzically, tilting her head a little to one side. "I do not like being teased," she stated simply, although I think that she only did not care and was only groping for an excuse not to.

"I am not teasing you," said Baslon. "I am in earnest. Would you care to dance with me?"

"No," said Cherry, turning her back to him. She walked around to the other side of the low stool. "It might hurt," she added in explanation.

"How strong is your willpower?" asked Baslon. "Did you disregard everything I said? I pity your parents. I must have done them a favor to rid them of such a disobedient child."

"I surely hope so," said Cherry in response to his second question.

"Well, then, I will test it to make sure." Baslon reached forward and grabbed her hand just as she was pulling it away. The result was that she stumbled closer to him, knocking the stool over. Now nothing separated them.

Cherry looked up at him, frightened. There was no pain in her face, so part, at least, of Baslon's command, or spell, had worked. Cherry could feel no pain.

"You will dance with me," Baslon said in a low, commanding, voice, while trying to make her look at him.

Cherry gave a little gasp and nodded, although she had not looked into his eyes. Baslon smiled and led Cherry out of the room. In the hallway he paused and called back to me, "I would advise you to come. It is not healthy for you to be alone and I want to keep you whole."

I followed them.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Down the corridor we went, through the dining room and to the ball room with its many instruments and large dance floor. I took up my position among these instruments, behind the harp. Baslon took Cherry's left hand with his right hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist. It appeared that he was no amateur of the art. Cherry lifted her skirt and followed his movements almost exactly. If you will notice that I said almost, the changes were only for the better. I was watching two experts of the art and although one was unwilling, a good dancer cannot help but dance well when on the dance floor. The grace, the beauty of it, was so exquisite that it nearly took my breath away, nearly swallowed my fear.

Cherry was tall for her age, but not so tall as to stand out in a crowd because of it. Baslon, slightly taller, was in much the same position. Cherry did not have to look up to look into his eyes, so instead of looking straight ahead, her eyes were pointing down, so she would not go under his spell. This was the reason that she did not have knowledge beforehand of what happened.

Baslon bent down, so as, it looked to me, to whisper something into Cherry's ear. They both stopped dancing. Cherry stood stricken a moment and then screamed. The scream was piercing and I think my eardrums would have shattered if she had not stopped when she did. When she did stop, she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Baslon glanced at me, the glance of a young boy when something terrible has happened that he does not understand. It only lasted a moment, and when he looked away from me he stooped down and picked up Cherry. Cherry stirred, wiggled and tried to stand up. Baslon lowered her back to the ground. She stood up slowly and then half fell again. She caught Baslon's shoulder as she went down and leaned heavily on it, breathing deeply. She looked helplessly at me, softly calling my name. "Michael."

"Boy," called Baslon as well, motioning slightly for me to come closer. He did not seem to know what he had done to Cherry, although he did not lose his contempt for me.

I approached. "Yes, sir?" I asked tentatively.

"Your mistress needs help getting to her room. Please escort her thither. I will not be able to accompany you." I could feel Cherry's weight on me as she switched from Baslon's shoulder to my own. She walked hesitantly. I glanced at her neck. There, sure enough, were two puncture holes, one above and to the left of the other. I could feel Baslon watching us as we walked out of the room. I glanced behind, and his worried gaze lingered on Cherry.

In Cherry's suite, I lowered her into a chair in the dining room, the closest one to the door. She rested there a moment, breathing as heavily as if she had just been heavily exercising. She looked up at me, pleading.

"Michael, take me to my room." Cherry's voice was nearly a whisper.

I took her to her room and helped her into her bed. She slipped under the covers slowly. Then she glanced up at me again and in the same manner.

"Michael," said she, holding my hand, "please don't let Baslon do that again. Please, save me from him. Keep him away from me." I was sitting in a chair by her bed and tried to stroke her hand in a reassuring manner. I was painfully conscious of my hand trembling.

Cherry seemed to notice it also. She glanced at my hand, then at my face and burst into tears.

I was stunned. I had never seen Cherry cry before. When she was hurt, she would simply bite her lip and go on with whatever she was doing. If it was her feelings that were hurt, then she would either look hurt or go off into some secluded area and pout. In this castle, she had simply borne what came. "There, there," I said and tried to think of what my father had said to me when something dreadful had happened to me. I had never had to comfort anyone myself, before. The country which my father had overlordship over had never had any serious problems yet and my parents had a happy marriage. I had many followers and servants, but no friends other than Cherry, or even relatives anywhere close to my own age.

"Cherry, don't cry, please." Then it came to me, what no friends other than Cherry meant. It meant that Cherry was my only friend. And friends could not let other friends die. My reason said that I could not help her, not in the way she wanted me to, or at all if I died. I might be able to help her, eventually, in a different way, if I stayed alive.

"Cherry, you know I can't prevent Baslon from approaching you." In my mind, I thought, not just approaching, but killing. "Oh,Cherry, how can I stop him? He very likely has you in his power." At this thought I nearly started crying myself. "If he is near you, you will not want him to go away! Why did you ever look into his eyes?"

She snuffled a bit and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "Because I couldn't help it, remember? He forced me to look into his eyes." She laughed tremorously. "I'm sorry I did that, Michael. I've been under a lot of stress lately."

I believed her. We both had been. "But . . . then why didn't you close your eyes?"

"Because, to close ones eyes is to give in to the vampires spell. If you close your eyes after looking into a vampires eyes and before looking away, then you can not disobey the vampire. You will have noticed that I did not blink while I was looking into Baslon's eyes." Cherry closed her eyes as if talking about it had made her want to do it and her head rolled to the side away from me. She slowly turned it so she was facing the ceiling with her eyes closed and lay breathing heavily for several minutes. "You were correct about the fact that he has me in his power. He could make me change my mind, or even forget what I had just said, without saying anything. In fact, by just thinking it!"

"How can that be?" I wondered aloud.

Cherry heard me. "It is because a vampire can read his victims mind and send thoughts into the victim's mind as well. This can be accomplished from either a long or short distance. I'm surprised Baslon has not done so already. He said he wished me to love him." Cherry's voice held a sarcastic note, as of disbelief. I did not share this feeling, although all others, with Cherry of Baslon. I had noticed how Baslon looked at her.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

A few days, or rather nights, later, Baslon came again. He came every day. The difference was, he did not knock this time. He simply came into the dining room without any sign beforehand that he was coming. My being in that room at the time, he startled me and I backed up against the wall.

He gave me a cold look of disdain, only the briefest of glances, before breezing along into living room and from there into Cherry's room, across from my own.

I followed him in and placed myself by the open door. The fire that I had lit earlier in the day was burning low, casting eerie shadows on the walls, making the following scene even more terrifying for me. "Good evening, my Lady," said Baslon to Cherry, who was sitting in a chair at a desk, drawing or writing something. "How do you fare?"

Cherry turned around. "I am as well as can be expected, under the circumstances."

"What are the circumstances, dear Cherry?" asked Baslon patronizingly.

"You know that quite well. Imprisonment, a wound that is not being treated properly, being on the verge of dying, soon to lose my soul and sanity. Only the first is not usual when dealing with vampires."

"You are still impertinent. I thought a dose of the proper medicine would fix it. Come here." At the last command, which I had thought Cherry would refuse, Cherry's feet moved automatically. Cherry looked as if she had no idea of what she was doing and I gave a little gasp. Baslon grinned diabolically at me, as if to say, 'I have her in my power, she will do anything I say and she cannot disobey without great strength of will, so it will be no use you trying to interfere.' "Kindly dismiss your servant," he said to Cherry, as if to prove to me the truth of what his eyes said. I am afraid Cherry's response to him was not quite what he expected.

"I . . . I wish that you would not call Michael a servant," she said, as she had often done before. Only this time she did not sound quite so sure of herself.

Baslon only laughed at this. "I will call him just what I like," he said. "You cannot argue with me. You are helpless and you are nearly worthless, except as entertainment. Let me kiss you," he said and kissed her, again and again. Cherry looked as though she were trying to object, but could not.

At length Baslon stopped kissing her. Cherry sat down on the bed, a little too low for him to start up again. She passed her had over her eyes, looking a little giddy. "Baslon, don't do that again, please." Her eyes grew wide with fright as he looked at her sternly. "I mean, not yet! I can tell that you love me without any more. Please, no more."

Baslon patted her shoulder gently, although she half flinched away. "You do not need to be frightened. I would not harm you, not for all the world."

"Would you promise not to harm Michael?" asked Cherry hopefully.

"I will not harm him for what you do. I am fair, even if you can attribute nothing else to me." Baslon sat on the bed next to Cherry, a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from edging away. Cherry squirmed slightly, but only slightly.

Baslon glanced in my direction. "My servants are tired of bringing the food to you. Your servant must go for it now. It will be placed in the main dining room, so he will not have to go to far. With your permission, Lady Cherry, we will start tomorrow."

"Michael, is that arrangement all right with you? I can send you after sunrise, for safety, but . . . " Cherry was cut off.

"He should go just before sunrise," said Baslon. "I can not ensure his complete safety, but I may have a message for you. He can take it."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Not alone! Please, I beg you!"

Baslon stood up. "Michael!" This caught my attention, as it was the first time he had called me by name. He walked over to me swiftly and wrapped an icy hand around my neck before I had time to scream. "You will do as I say," he muttered through his teeth.

"Baslon, let him go!" ordered Cherry, also standing up.

Baslon uttered no words, nor did he alter his glare from me, yet Cherry fell to the floor, the blue skirt to her dress flowing around her, held her head in her hands and began to moan.

I myself was gasping for breath, my throat being frozen and crushed simultaneously. I mouthed a 'yes sir,' and he let me go. The blood swiftly rushing to my head made me very dizzy all of a sudden.

I rubbed my neck to warm it. The first time I touched my throat I pulled my hand away because of the cold. Cherry noticed it and called to me.

"Michael, come here." I knelt down beside her. She tipped my head back and breathed on my neck, her head close. The cold sensation left it instantly and the pain was greatly lessened. Baslon snorted.

"Your trusting of her will one day be your undoing," he commented.

"What do you mean?" asked Cherry and I at the same time.

Baslon stared at me. I stared at the floor. "The vampire bites at the neck," he said. "Following her death, Cherry will become a vampire. Her first victim has already been provided."

"No!" exclaimed Cherry angrily, standing up and throwing herself at Baslon. Apparently, the thought of her killing me appalled her.

"He will die, one way or another. This way is the kindest." Baslon held Cherry's wrists at arm distance. She was straining against him, her fingers twitching. "Anyway, some vampire will reach him sooner or later and he would prefer that you take him, if any."

Baslon threw Cherry on the bed nonchalantly. She stood up instantly, the light of battle in her eye.

"Sit down." Baslon's words stung me and even more so did the fact that Cherry obeyed. His voice was sharp and he seemed sure of his power over Cherry and of her power over me. Now his voice gentled. "I have a present for you, Cherry. If you promise to behave, I will give it to you"

"I . . . I promise."

"Of course, you realize that I don't have to bribe you to get you to do what I want. You will do it. Follow me."

He held the bedroom door open for Cherry. We followed him out and he signalled us to some chairs in the living room. He went briefly into the dining room and returned with a rather large parcel, which was handed to Cherry. She opened it slowly and inside was a bolt of dark green velvet cloth, a bolt of dark green taffeta cloth, five spools of gold thread and five spools of dark green thread. She looked curiously up at Baslon.

"You can make a dress out of it," explained Baslon. "You must get bored during the day, so you can use this to keep yourself occupied. Do you like it?"

Cherry examined the material. Her face was a complete blank, impossible to read. She set the package on the chair and looked up at Baslon.

He looked crestfallen. It seemed that he had hoped Cherry would like it and now he thought she didn't.

Cherry noticed this, looked thoughtful and acted in the way she thought best for the situation.

Cherry threw her arms around his neck. "I love it!" she said. "Thank you!"

"Good!" said Baslon, a little surprised. I wasn't. She was acting. Cherry had never been so exuberant about anything before. "If there is anything else you want, all you have to do is ask. The entire castle is at your disposal." Baslon paused. "Oh, yes, there's just one more thing. Perhaps you should send your servant away."

"Michael," said Cherry, abruptly solemn, "I think you should go now. You might . . . not wish to see what follows." She looked rather anxious herself, as though wishing that nothing would follow.

"Go and retrieve your dinner," suggested Baslon with a faint smile of amusement. And small helpfulness, in my opinion. "It should be ready by now."

As I left the room, I heard Baslon saying to Cherry, "Now, close your eyes. This should hurt just a little bit, my precious little foal."

"I'd rather you didn't refer to me in that manner. I'm not your precious little foal. Or am I?" asked Cherry.

"Of course you are," responded Baslon. "You are precious and you are mine. You may debate about the foal, but you are young . . . ."

At this point I was to far away to hear. Now I needed to think. Cherry was Baslon's, in a sense. She and I were his prisoners and Baslon could now control her mind. Of course what was happening was Baslon biting Cherry and taking her blood. I shuddered. And Cherry would soon take my own blood! I decided that if I couldn't think of happy thoughts, I wouldn't think at all. Unfortunately, happy thoughts were almost impossible to think in this dreary place. So, I enjoyed the fact that I was alive and retrieved our food.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

When I finished my dinner one night, Cherry promptly sent me to bed.

"You look tired, Michael. You're so pale and drawn. I wonder what's come over you?" These were exactly the words I would have used to describe her. Whenever I brought up the subject of what had happened last night, Cherry had been very confused. She did not even seem to remember anything, but later that day she had started sewing.

When I fell asleep, the dream I had terrified me.

It was dark. I had no sensation of falling, or of my feet touching the ground, or of wind in my face. I ran, or tried to run, with no sensation of moving, from what or to what I did not know.

Suddenly, I saw Cherry's slender figure and red hair ahead of me. I ran closer to her, or she floated closer to me, I do not know which. She was just standing still, her back towards me. I reached her and put a hand on her shoulder and said her name, but I did not hear my voice. She turned around. Her skin was usually ruddy from the many fights and other kinds of exercises she had, but now her face was deathly white. Cherry smiled. Her teeth were sharp and pointed. "Hello, Michael," she said, her breath chilling me to the marrow. She took a step towards me. Cherry leaned forward and . . . .

I sat up in bed, breathing hard. "No," I whispered. "No." I looked about wildly, even though it was too dark to see. Then I lay back down. I felt my throat, as though I expected there to be holes in it. There were none. I couldn't see Cherry as a vampire. When she was angry, she seemed almost insane. Cherry as a vampire would have perfect presence of mind, yet still causing harm. No, Cherry could not be a vampire. Her personality would not permit it.

There was a knocking at my door. "Michael," called Cherry, "are you all right?"

I stumbled to the door and groped for the handle. "Just a nightmare," I mumbled.

"I heard you scream," said Cherry, in explanation. "I think you had better come out here. You would feel better. I have thrown back the curtain. You can see the outside of the walls that way and there are many leaves on the ground. It is autumn. We have been here almost four months!"

"Four months in captivity. A long time to endure," I said bitterly, walking toward the living room. "Why can't he just let us go?"

"The vampire rarely lets his possessions go, unless a stronger force takes them away. In this case, I am the possession and there are very few stronger than Baslon. Have a seat." Cherry sat in her usual chair and picked up her sewing. The pieces had already been cut out and a few stitches made, but no more. I held no interest in sewing, (but, being a child and often not allowed to talk, I watched the fingers of the ladies of court and was therefore familiar with some of the movements) and was used to my mother talking while she sewed, so I paid it no mind. What was interesting was that Cherry did not talk while she sewed, rather, she gave her answer after she had finished the stitch. She concentrated on the task at hand and, in general, Cherry has a many track mind rather than a one track mind.

"Cherry, do you love him?"

A stitch. A pricked finger. She rubbed the blood off and continued. After a few moments she completed it and it looked like a stitch my mother was familiar with. "Love who? I hate sewing."

"Baslon, of course."

Cherry bent closer to the cloth, trying to hold her finger out of the way. The needle went through and soon after followed the thread. "Baslon? Well . . . perhaps." Before, she would have denied it, whether it was true or not. A stitch went through the fabric. This one was too wide and Cherry corrected it carefully.

"Don't you know how to sew?"

"No. I prefer almost anything to sewing. Of course, there are things that I haven't tried, but I doubt I could like them worse." A stitch. This one had no problems to it. "In fact, the most I've ever sewed is to help the household seamstress cut out patterns. That's why I had no trouble with the cutting part." Another fairly well made stitch.

"I bet I could sew better than you," I said.

"I bet you wouldn't say that in public, or even to me if you thought there was a chance I could get away to tell someone," taunted Cherry. "They think boys should shoot arrows and plow and till and girls should sew and weave and be nice little ladies."

"Boys need to have good manners too." I defended myself. "Father has always stressed me on that point."

"You're a court boy and you'll often be talking with the King and Queen when you grow up. If you aren't polite, they'll cut off your head. Or worse."

"The block has been forbidden."

"Yes, but the guillotine hasn't."

"Slaves are illegal." That was not strictly true, but close enough for me to say it.

"You could be strangled. They'd hang you slowly. Slowly dying, slowly, slowly . . . ."

"You should talk about slowly dying."

Cherry jerked and looked at me sharply, running the needle through her right palm while not appearing to notice. She usually didn't notice anything, but this time I stared, wincing and rubbing my own palm surreptitiously. "Let's not talk about that. Anyway, the same thing will happen to you." Cherry followed my gaze to her hand. She looked startled to find it, but she pulled the needle out. It began bleeding immediately, dripping blood. Cherry stared at it herself for a few moments, then laughed shortly. "Bloody fingers," she muttered, "Caught red handed." She laughed again, and suddenly began singing.

"The midnight sun protects the world

"From the seeds and from the blood;

"From both the evil and the good;

"From those who ran and those who stood.

"Angel and phantoms, the small ones.

"Wraiths, elves, all and none."

When Cherry finished, for no apparent reason, I had a headache. She looked at me expectantly. I didn't respond. "I'm going to leave a mess on the carpet," she added abruptly, flicking her fingers, and I flinched back from the spraying blood. Cherry met my eyes with a wry smile. "Slowly dying, indeed! Is something wrong?" I don't know what my face looked like just then, and I don't want to.

"Sorry. Why won't you talk about Baslon?"

That stitch would not go through. The fabric was ruined anyway, with all that blood. She tugged on the thread. "Baslon? I don't know."

"Did he make you forget about him? I pity you, having to obey him."

"I have magic to protect me. Otherwise, I could not disobey him, or do anything that he disliked." The thread came through.

"Then why don't you use magic to sew your dress?" I teased.

"Because I'd have to direct the needle. If I can't sew with my fingers, then who knows what would happen if I tried to do it by magic. It would be levitating magic if I did that, not sewing magic. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Oh, yes, humans. Well, I can direct all right, but not these tiny stitches." Cherry bent over closer to her work. The needle went through the fabric.

"Maybe you'd sew better if I didn't talk."

"Maybe. Here." She reached into the air and pulled out a book as if off of a bookshelf. "You should like it. If you can understand it." Ignoring the magic which went against God's law, I took both the book and the insult without comment. She continued sewing, or rather, trying to sew, while I opened the book and began to read.

After several hours, Cherry seemed to not be having so much trouble with her sewing. She had done a full yard, which I supposed was good for a beginner. Now she set it down, saying, "Wake me up when he comes. Above all, do not let him see me sleeping," and went to her room. As the sun was already almost down, I wondered if I should simply tell her to stay up. Considering, I realized she might have a half hour to herself, and I decided against it and pulled the curtains close.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Half an hour later, I heard Baslon opening the door. I poked my head into her room and woke her up. She pushed the bed clothes aside and rose from the bed, exiting the room.

"Good day, Cherry," said Baslon.

"Bonjour, Baslon," replied Cherry, in French.

Baslon's mouth tightened. "We will speak either Romanian, elven or English in this house. Up until now, the residents have known no other language." Baslon frowned. "Although, if you persist, I think I can follow your meaning, well enough."

"I will not persist." She grinned suddenly. "Now I will know how to converse with Michael."

"Can you speak Romanian?"

"Of course. My language skills include English, Romanian, Latin, French, elven, German and Italian. Did I miss any, Michael?" Cherry curved her neck around to see me at my place at the back of the chair.

"I thought you knew Spanish?"

"Of course. Baslon tiene los calificaciones d'un monstruo, si no esta' uno ahora.

"I don't," I said. From the tone of Cherry's voice, I think it was an insult.

"Sorry." She flashed me a wicked, mischievous smile before turning back to Baslon. "I will forbear translation," she said.

"I think I can guess well enough at your meaning," said Baslon. "I heard my name in it and monstruo, I think, would be monster. I will not correct you, since it is true."

"I know it's true. Of course, you should understand it, since both the Spanish and Romanian languages are descended directly from Latin. You can't fool me easily."

"Still impertinent, I see," Baslon said, with a trace of a smile. "You are amusing. How are you doing on your sewing?"

"Fairly well, considering I don't know how to sew." She made a face, then checked. He didn't seem to notice. "Why do you keep us locked up in here all the time? Surely exploring would keep us occupied."

"I keep you here, at least at night, so that my brother won't see you and want you. He is often trying to take what is mine and, being older than I, often succeeds. Here, I will try to give you a picture of what he is like. You must clear your mind of all things." Hitherto Baslon had been standing, but now he sat down in a chair opposite her and took Cherry's hands in one of his own. He placed the other on Cherry's forehead. She looked directly into his eyes willingly. Then, slowly, uncertainly, her eyes closed.

"Cherry, no! Don't!" I cried.

Baslon looked up. "I'll have to deal with you sooner or later," he said mildly. I involuntarily stepped back.

Baslon looked intently at Cherry. "Do you see it now?" he asked.

"I do," Cherry replied. Baslon nodded. "He is cruel to you."

"Vampires are cruel also, are they not?" asked Baslon.

"Except for pain and a slow death, which some humans also inflict, I say no, they are not cruel."

"Oh!" exclaimed Baslon. "You have reminded me of something I nearly forgot." He leaned closer to her. "You feel no pain, my lovely pet. You feel no pain or weakness. No pain . . . no pain . . . no pain." I could not see what happened over the high back of the chair and counted myself lucky that I could not.

"Open your eyes," commanded Baslon. "My brother would be worse than this to you. He is not as gentle as I, nor is he used to being crossed. If you should ever meet him, obey his commands as much as and as little as is possible at the same time. His demands can be unreasonable."

"I know. I read your mind, even though you did not show it to me. I should not like to belong to him." Cherry shuddered. "Then, I should not like to belong to you or anyone. You are not used to being crossed either. I am, or was, an extremely independent person."

"I know. That is why I will not let you go," said Baslon. "Because you would run away from me for your freedom. I think I can trust you to go outside the walls now, in the daytime. At night, it is dangerous to be one of the closest thousand people."

"As you wish. You are giving me much freedom, more than I had expected to get from a vampire."

"A vampire is in many ways better than a human."

"If you say so. I'll take your word for it. May I expect the gates to be open tomorrow?"

"This morning. Do not go out until the sun has gone all the way up. Michael may go also. I will give trust to his devotion to you. Fare you well, my Lady." Baslon bent and kissed Cherry's hand. Then, nodding his head to her, the vampire exited the apartments.

"You may as well get our food now. I don't think you will be hurt. We will want to go out as soon as possible." I was not certain of that, but I trusted Cherry's judgement. So, taking a deep breath, I went out in the halls alone and fetched our breakfast.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

After breakfast, we went outside. The sun was already partially up and we assumed it was safe. Both the front door and the gate stood open, ready for us to pass through. Or squeeze through, as was more likely, for they were only open a little bit. The ground outside of the castle was covered with red, yellow, green and brown leaves. The trees were mostly bare, saving only the pines, firs and hemlocks.

Outside the walls there seemed no chance of escape. We were mostly on a plateau with steep sides and a forest next to us, on the left coming out of the castle gates, mixed with the sounds of wolves, kept us from going in that direction. A fairly deep, swift flowing river also blocked us from the edge.

Even if there had not been all these problems, Cherry seemed to have no intention of escaping. She put her hand to her head and swayed. Afraid that she would fall, I grabbed her arm.

'Michael, I need to sit down,' she said. Then I realized she hadn't moved her lips. I looked at her usually red face, worried. She shouldn't have lost this much blood. It was already to much for her to bear. "I'm all right, Michael. Just a little dizzy. I'll be fine."

"You need to sit down," I said.

"No I don't," she started to say, but I stopped her.

"Yes you do," I argued, "and you know it. You have lost too much blood already. You need some time without any interruptions, not to name any names." I lowered her gently to the ground. She did not get back up.

"Michael, don't let this get in the way of your freedom, scant though it may be. You are freer than I am, even now. I could not escape, not even if I wanted to. Baslon is just too strong. He could just make me die, right here, right now. Why he does not, I do not know." Cherry's head fell to her breast. She sat there, breathing heavily. I sat down beside her. She seemed to be asleep. I looked out across the meadow. 'So peaceful here,' I thought. Who would have known that such a beautiful place could harbor such a dreadful monster.

"Cherry," a soft voice flickered across the meadow. I looked around quickly. There was nothing in sight other than Cherry and I that could have said that. My voice was too deep and Cherry was asleep.

"Cherry," the voice came louder. "Cherry, where are you?"

"Cherry," I said, touching her arm. "Cherry, do you know what is making that sound?"

She shook my hand off her arm. "What sound?" she murmured sleepily.

"Cherry," came the voice again, soft and enticing. Cherry jerked her head quickly up. "Cherry," said the voice, bringing Cherry's entire body up with it. All trace of sleepiness was gone from her face.

"Mother?" Cherry whispered. Then louder, "Mother! Where are you?"

"That's your mother?" I asked.

In response, Cherry only cried out "Mother!" again in a slightly more irritated tone. This time, a woman came out of the woods. "Cherry!" she cried, running towards her. "Oh, my darling," she said when she reached us and was hugging Cherry, "let me take you away from this accursed place."

"Mother, let go of me," said Cherry, trying to wiggle out of her mother embrace.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, even if you aren't glad to see me," Cherry's mother beamed, letting her daughter go. The smile lit up her whole face, which looked very little like her daughters. Other than height, which might have come from either side of the family, Cherry had not inherited any looks from either side. Her father's hair was sandy and his eyes were hazel, and her mother's hair and eyes were black. A light complexion and a dark complexion were nothing like Cherry's usually ruddy face. "Even if you refuse to come permanently, you must come for now, for your initiation. It must take place within five days to a week."

"Mother, Baslon would not let me go."

Cherry's mother beamed brighter. "A vampire. That means that you will soon be a vampire as well. This will be a marvelous thing. Half witch, half vampire. The most powerful being on earth! And you are my daughter!" Instead of being distraught, as I had expected, Cherry's mother was exuberant. "Which one did you say it was?"

The daughter sneered. "Baslon. I had no intention of pleasing you when I took up with him. I am glad you approve," said Cherry sarcastically.

"Apparently you are not quite pleased with this turn of events," said Cherry's mother, with a somewhat less joyful tone and more puzzled tone, and with impressive understatement. "Why, Cherry? He is the Lord of Darkness's second son, and a true vampire, unlike the first. He'll rule, one day. The King of the Supernatural. That is no position for any to scorn, and you seem to be determined to. Why?"

"Because you should not be either," replied Cherry ironically. "You seem to have taken it for granted that I came of my own free will. You thought me more powerful than that."

"Oh. I had thought you more powerful than that. A curse on that terrible kidnapper! Taking my own flesh and blood away from me!" This time she did not sound happy at all. She seemed to be acting.

"You left me, remember?" I blinked at Cherry. Her voice was bitter and angry. "You left Father, too, right when we really needed you. You complain about vampires when I have no choice, and you didn't stay around long enough to teach me anything!"

She did not respond this time. Instead, the lady reached out to touch Cherry's forehead. Cherry ducked away.

"If you want to do that, you had better do it when I have no watch over me."

"You wouldn't have a watch on you if you would let me."

"What is she trying to do, Cherry?" I whispered.

"I am trying to give her mind back to her," said Cherry's mother. She bent her knees to look me curiously in the face. "Who are you? Not a vampire, or you would be dead. Not bitten, either, I assume?"

"No, ma'am," I said.

Cherry said, "He was taken to be my servant. Mother, this is Michael York. Michael, this is my mother, Vrenkley."

Vrenkley nodded to me. Then she uttered a few strange words, something like ". . . uthero mefhed haetor . . . ." causing Cherry to cry out.

"Mother, no! Mirange, il rord me . . . ." The last of the sentence was lost when Cherry fell to the ground, asleep.

"She was ever weak," said her mother. "By the ring on her finger, though, I would say she has not completely forgotten her art."

"What art? What has the ring to do with it?"

"That's right. You were raised as a human. The art of willpower, or, as you might say, magic. The ring keeps herself whole, gives her the ability to disobey the vampire at least some of the time." She put an arm around me. "You can be the path to her entire freedom of the mind, if not the body. Here, take this. Her own mind, what little is left of it, will be glad of it." Vrenkley handed me a string of garlic wrapped around some wood. "Tell me, how much is my daughter lost?"

"We came here about four months ago, in the summer." I hesitated. "I think she was bitten about one month ago, if that is what you want to know."

"It is." Vrenkley sighed. "I would rather take her with me, but the vampires can travel so swiftly. Here, you must be hungry." She picked up a few blades of grass, mumbled something under her breath and, blowing on them, threw them into the air. Upon landing, they turned into a rather scanty luncheon, but it was food and we would not have to go back into the castle for it. "She will not be, though."

"How can you know that?" I asked, hastily swallowing a piece of chicken that had already found it's way into my mouth.

"Witches can go long without food." Her lips twitched with amusement at something. "Eat all you want. I will tell you some things about vampires."

"Thank you," said I, and set to.

"What do you already know?"

"Only what Cherry told me."

"What did my daughter tell you?"

"She said that vampires have the ability of hypnosis and a few other things that have to do with the basic procedure, but I saw it happening."

"You poor boy! To have to see someone you love go through such a trial! Go on."

I looked at her sharply. How had she known that I loved Cherry? More important, I did love Cherry, although I had not really thought about it in my struggle to try to keep her alive, or at least happy most of the time. "She also said that vampires have unusually keen senses, that they can turn into different types of animals that they were very strong and swift, that vampires would live forever and that they could pass through locked doors."

"Only two things seem to have been missed and one more inaccurate," said Vrenkley. "Vampires can sense the use of certain types of magic, but that's not important to you. Vampires do live forever, unless they are killed, which is possible. They can also be repelled. She left out the means of protecting oneself from vampires. A sharp stake of rowan wood, such as I have given you, at least long enough to pass all the way through the body, driven through the heart will kill them, vile beasts, to so maltreat the daughter of the most powerful . . . !" Her voice rose and then suddenly stopped, as if she had forgotten I was here and then remembered. "I apologize. I am boasting."

I stared at her. "The most powerful what?" I asked in an awed voice.

"Never mind. Rowan in any form will keep away those creatures and you will notice that the garlic is fastened to a fine and sharp stake of that wood." I looked and it was as she said. "Garlic also keeps them away, but will not kill them, no matter what shape it is in. Sunlight is dangerous, but how would you get them there?"

"I don't know," I said. "I do not even know where Baslon stays the night."

"Very few do. Their lairs are usually hidden and, although they usually take no great pains to keep them that way, they stay that way. Mirrors can be used to identify a vampire, giving no reflection and they hate them, but mirrors present no harm. Also, magic can be found in this world that can kill all but the most powerful. I think that this is such a one. Since he is not yet fully grown, there is doubt that he can resist for as long as I can hold out, but a possibility. We would be well matched." There was admiration in her voice. "Are you finished?"

The question caught me off my guard. It was several minutes before I could decide answer, although it was obvious what it should be. "Yes."

She raised her hand over the food, what remained of it and hummed a little tune that I was unfamiliar with. The remains and containers vanished. "Do you have the garlic?" asked Cherry's mother.

"Yes," I said, although I didn't know how I could have lost it. "I attached it to my belt." This made it difficult to walk, but I didn't say so. It was about four o'clock and, the days being short, there was about an hour of daylight left.

"The light will last longer than that," said Vrenkley, perhaps know."

"You said that the ring helped Cherry disobey the reading my mind. "Unless I am mistaken, Cherry will be free at least to come to her initiation. After that, I do not vampire. Why does she still obey some of the time, if that is true?" I was sitting by Cherry, absent mindedly stroking her hand.

"It helps her. The ring does not protect Cherry entirely. I do not know what effect the garlic may have on her, but it will help protect her also. She may be so far gone that nothing will help much. Monsters! When I next see her, she may not know me. Such is the power of these vile creatures." A tear glistened on her cheek. She touched my forehead gently. "Help her. You will know how. You have some of this blood in you also." The lady gestured towards herself. "Take Cherry to her room now. Make sure she is there before the sun starts to go below the horizon." I bent over to pick Cherry up. She was almost taller than me and I was not unusually strong, therefore I had trouble carrying her. As I took her in, Vrenkley called after me, "Watch over her! Protect her! You will know how!"

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

I carried Cherry to her room, put her to bed and when she woke up, I told her nearly all that had passed, but kept some things to myself. This was mainly because of the hurried entrance of Baslon.

Baslon came into the room rather quickly this time, looking anxious. When he saw Cherry, this look left his face. "I thought you would not return."

"Why would I choose not do that?" asked Cherry. She had a worried look on her own face, as though she were fighting some great battle within herself. When I had shown her the garlic, a queer look had crossed her face and, although she had locked it away in her drawer, she seemed ready to fight for her life as she was used to doing. "Is it possible to escape from a vampire?"

"From only one vampire, though I regret to say it, yes. I would rather not enlist the help of others. My brother might take you away."

"I look forward to meeting your brother."

"I think you have not returned. You have changed."

"No, sir," I piped up, wondering that I dared to say something, yet frightened as well, "I think she has returned. You were the one who took her away."

Baslon started towards me with death in his eyes and Cherry stood up, pushing me down and putting herself between me and that monster in human form. I squealed a little. Cherry had pushed me a little too hard. "You will not harm him," said Cherry in a warning manner. "After all, he is only, as you have so many times pointed out, a servant. Anyway, isn't there something else you should be doing?" She added this last remark with a shake of her head, throwing her hair back from her neck and revealing the gruesome picture of the two holes in her neck.

"Of course." The vampire sat down and took Cherry's hands, looking straight into her eyes. She started to close them before long and he made the mistake of looking away before they were fully shut. They were instantly open again. She smiled at me, that smile which she had used when jumping over Baslon with the horse, the smile that had gotten her into so much trouble. Baslon did not notice this. Instead, he leaned forward, placed his teeth on the holes and . . . .

Suddenly, Cherry broke away from his grasp. She bounded to the far corner of the room, in a whirl of red hair, light red skin and lavender gingham. Baslon was not expecting rebellion and it took him a moment to realize that Cherry was not going to let him willingly take her blood. Once he did, he was upon her. Cherry was the strongest person I know, yet this foul thing was stronger still. Even though I knew it might kill me, I couldn't let Cherry be hurt. I jumped upon the monster. Baslon turned around, giving Cherry the chance to gather her strength and collect her wits. I was seized by the throat.

"Michael!" Cherry yelled. I realized immediately what a foolish thing I was doing. Baslon would enjoy killing me, but would try at all costs to keep from harming Cherry. He was a hundred times stronger than I and there was no way I could break through the vampire's powerful grip. I felt Cherry's delicate fingers prying at the ones around my throat. Once free, I was thrown on the bed by Cherry. She wouldn't let Baslon attack me again. Yet I had given her the chance she needed. Cherry backed toward the door with Baslon following. Her actions were similar to those of the rabbit cornered by the hunter, the difference being, the rabbit might this time escape. I instantly, instinctively, knew what would come next. Once Baslon was out of the room, Cherry would slip back in somehow and I would close the door and turn the latch. Baslon would not want to ruin his castle, else he would break the door down. It happened exactly that way. She was able to get back in when she had led him out only a little ways. She sort of blinked in existence. One minute she was outside, the next she was not. Somehow, Cherry had run right through Baslon! Then she collapsed.

Once I put Cherry in her bed, I looked at her pale features. I thought about how beautiful she looked with her resplendent red hair forming a fiery halo around her head. I stooped and kissed her before leaving the room.

The next day, when I brought her breakfast in bed, she was a little stronger and had a tiny bit more blood in her cheeks. Baslon had caught me by the ear and ordered me to tell 'her Ladyship that I won't be up tonight', which I did. This news brought a half smile to Cherry's lips.

"It will take a little time, but I believe I won't be bothered for long enough to get my strength back. I can see that you are a mind reader also."

This brought to mind Vrenkley's saying that I was partially a witch. I did not like the feeling that gave me, so I gave an excuse. "Mind reading is the art of understanding. In a way, all people are mind readers. I know your personality better than your parents did. Therefore, I knew what you had in mind. In addition, you wanted me to understand. That could have helped, also."

"You are young, Michael, but you are wise. Experience is the best way to gain knowledge. We have much the same personality in some ways. You would have done the same thing in the same position. No, when you are in the same position, you will never complain. You like me too much to harm me." Here Cherry tried to get out of bed. I pushed her gently back down. She sank without a word. I looked at her face and saw sadness there. "I wanted a change. The days are so monotonous, and I was losing my willpower. My willpower is stronger than Baslon's. At the first sign of trouble he gave up."

Cherry was quiet a moment. I thought of days back in England. If we were there right now, Cherry would probably either be telling fortunes, coming up with ideas on how to raise England's profits, reading, or searching through coral and wrecks of boats. I didn't exactly know, though. I had no idea what Cherry did in her free time in England, other than playing tricks. I would probably be getting bored at one of my parents' political meetings, and worrying about getting bored when I became Earl of York. Cherry didn't have to worry about becoming Ambassador to Romania. She was a girl. Whoever she married would worry about it.

Her father had occasionally taken her to Romania, and that had led to her capture and slavery.

Suddenly I realized that Cherry was not speaking. I glanced anxiously in her direction. She was asleep. I tucked her in a little more snugly and left the room.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

It was some few days before Baslon chose to come again to visit Cherry, and then it was to bring a message only, which shows just how much he had been alarmed, although he did not show any fear while in her presence. It was a message of some import to Cherry, though.

"Your mother has asked that you should come to your initiation. If you want to go, you may."

"I do wish to go," replied Cherry, examining her work. She was sewing again and already she had most of her blood back. This gave me the impression that witches make swift recoveries. "I no longer need your permission to do so."

"You need some way to exit the castle. I will provide transportation as well. I think that I also have means of ensuring your return." He nodded in my direction.

"Of course you do," said Cherry, affecting not to realize what he meant. "Mother sees this as a great opportunity to make up for my human blood. Michael will be coming with me, of course. I'll provide my own transportation."

"How do I know you will come back? Disobedience has long marked your personality."

Cherry scrutinized him for a moment, putting down her sewing to do so. She still could not sew without looking. Then she said, in a solemn, low voice, "I will swear by my true name, if you will take that promise."

"You don't have a true name yet."

"True, but I will after the formalities are over. If I promise anything by my name, as soon as I have it, it takes effect. If you will take the promise, I will give it to you." Still, Baslon hesitated. "I am not a liar."

"If you will allow me to provide a carriage for you and to come with you, then I'll take your promise. Will you take my offer?"

"How would you get us there, Cherry?" I asked. "I don't like magic."

"Oh." Cherry looked at me for a moment and then looked at Baslon, dropping her needle to do so. "Would you prefer to travel with Baslon?"

"I . . . guess." This wasn't the truth, but with Baslon so close, I chose not to rely on Cherry's prowess.

"The initiation will be tomorrow," said Baslon, "and I believe I know the place that is customary for these meetings. Mt. Negoi?"

"Your information is correct, however you got it." Cherry had not as yet picked up her sewing.

"I believe you know."

"No, I don't."

"Then I will tell you. My father is king. He must know when any meetings are to take place, of vampires, witches, or werepeople. Of any of the supernatural but humans, and he usually knows of those as well. He has permission to go to any he chooses, taking any guests he chooses. Being a witch, I had thought you would know that."

"Being a witch. I said I was a witch. You act as though you know all about witches." Here Cherry almost snorted. "What is an initiation, Baslon?"

He took a deep breath. "Oh. I see what you mean. Because you are not a witch yet, you would not know all that you are expected to do and know? It will be your birthday, won't it? Which one? The eighteenth is the most common. Never under fourteen."

"Twelfth. I am an exception. If you continue to plague me with useless questions, I shall rip out what heart you have."

'Twelfth?' I thought. Being in the same grade, I had thought we were the same age. Now I found that Cherry was three years my junior.

"Patience, patience. Soon you will be bound by oath, if not to me, to my father, and then you shall soon return." This last sentence caused Cherry to grimace. "Then I will make you pay for what you have done, if the initiation trials are not enough."

Cherry stood up, causing her yellow dress to fall in folds about her. She looked as though she had orange hair, with the way it reflected her dress. "Leave. Now. You have said enough. I can stand no more of this type of courtship. Leave now, or I'll resort to other powers than my powers of speech, of which I have many."

Baslon looked at her in a way that said 'if you want, but I am not subjected to do all you command.' "As my Lady wishes," was all he said though, and bowing, he went out.

Cherry gave a low growl deep in her throat. "Well, Michael, what do you think of this turn of affairs?" asked she.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, just as I break free, I find that I will become his subject. I did hope that my initiation would cheer me up. Now I won't ever have a chance to escape." She did not sound as though she felt any self pity, rather pity for me instead. "Poor boy. What can this feel like for you? Mind reading is just one of my many skills, but it is not given to me to feel what you think, to truly know it, but only the vaguest of ideas can I have. Or, perhaps, you are able to hide your feelings behind a mask and you loathe me for what I am." I stared at Cherry. What was she talking about?

"I cannot feel." She shook her head. "I have a poor sense of touch, I always have, even before Baslon's interference, so anything that can hurt me must seer you. That's not exactly what I meant. I have no feelings. No pity, no love, no sadness, no happiness. I am only beginning to know fear. I have always known anger, anger against the world, who once threw me out. My fighting is instinctive, not showing my anger, but I am still capable of feeling it."

"You can laugh." My voice was strangely weak.

"I can laugh, yes, I can act, I can hide behind a mask. If I should throw off this false disguise, take it all off, then who could pity me anything that has happened? I am really more of a monster than any vampire could be. I deserve all that is happening, but you don't. You really should have your freedom. You will have it, before I dissolve away, before my true personality can never come out. Centuries will come and pass before I can reform, even if I have the chance."

"Cherry, are you feeling all right?" She had never confided in anyone like this before, but I did not doubt that she was telling the truth.

"You have seen me, Michael, when I am angry. You have noticed my marked fierceness when aroused. For no reason at all! I killed a person once, Michael, you saw me do it. I know you did."

"There must be a reason . . . ." I began.

Cherry cut me off. "Oh, indeed, there is a reason for everything," she said sarcastically. "The reason he died was open wounds. How did he receive these open wounds? I gave them to him. I am very generous with that sort of thing. Why did I give them to him? I do not know and neither do you. The Bible says, according to the fifth commandment, 'You shall not kill,' in the exact words of God." Here she was becoming more sarcastic and ironic. "Oh, it is a good law, but with my temperament it is impossible for me to stand by it. Anyway, I'm not Christian."

"You're not?" I was incredulous.

"Oh, no, indeed," she went along breezily as well as sardonically, "but don't tell anyone in Europe that, or they'll have me burned at the stake for it and I wouldn't like that. Witches have their own religion and, as my mother had the care of me for the first three or so years of my life, that is the one which I follow. Should I go on?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well. It is called 'Mnerecros,' and everyone but humans celebrates it. The tribe that tomorrow night I shall be made a part of is called the 'Mnerecros' coven, or 'Near Home' coven. They are a wandering tribe and have gone to almost every land possible on foot or wagon. Unless I miss my guess, the master of this castle, (not Baslon, I am sure,) only rules them, or us, I should say, when they are within his domains, that is, the Carpatii Sudici (the Transylvanian Alps), the Carpathians and between these two mountain ranges."

"Cherry," I asked, "why did you change the subject so suddenly?"

"Because it was so easy to do, because you helped lead me to do it and because I was getting tired of the old subject."

"How did I lead you to it?"

"You encouraged me by asking me about my not being Christian. I believe your very words were 'you're not?' They were a good choice." She was laughing at me.

"Cherry, please don't tease me."

"You can tease me, if you want. I need something to lift my spirits up."

"How would I do that? You might get angry with me and then you wouldn't have any more servant."

"You are teasing me right now," she laughed.

"No, I'm not. I'm whining." I had been whining and now I drew my face straight hurriedly.

Cherry only laughed some more. "Michael, you poor thing, don't you know anything? Anyone can be a jester, provided the audience is willing to laugh. Do you think the sun will be rising soon?" she asked, pulling her face straight. Our rooms faced west and we had to guess until the sun was a fair ways up. Even so, we did not know what the time was until late in the day, when we were often napping.

"I guess it will be. The light isn't quite so dim as it was." I glanced out of the window. It was very dark, so dark that even a slight change could be noticed.

"There are no stars. It will be cloudy today, unless it is an early morning mist." Cherry had pulled back the other side of the curtain and was looking out also. "And I doubt it. The clouds have come over the world, and they will likely remain."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Did you know, Michael, that you are the only person who likes me for who I am?" Cherry placed this question in such a manner that it seemed to have a hidden, secret meaning behind it, yet the question itself was such that nothing could be secret or hidden within it, at least as far as I could tell.

"No," I responded, untruthfully. Cherry wanted a conversation and should have it, to keep herself occupied. At home I had been the only child in the neighborhood to talk to her about other things than her oddities, of which she had many, and it was perhaps these that attracted me to her.

"It is true. No one my own age liked me when we were at home. Of course my parents would like me, although whenever I asked them about it they were not able to give me a satisfactory reason. My high position makes me agreeable to those who know of it." I looked at her quizzically. An ambassadors position was not a high one and this small, almost unheard of country made a lower one. Anyway, the daughter of such a low person would surely never be recognized for any political advantage. "I am a favorite with my uncle, the Earl of Richmond. My father has no chance of yet succeeding to it, being the younger son of two. My uncle has not yet any sons or daughters, so my," she twisted her lip bitterly around the next two words, "marriage partner will so far succeed to both offices." I kept silent as Cherry glared at me furiously until she added, "That is why my father is so eager for me to marry and probably why you are here at all." She scowled deeper and savagely growled something under her breath.

"I have no intention of taking away your freedom," I said, almost under my breath. This was the kind of thing that could get me killed.

"No," said Cherry fretfully, "it has already been taken away and no hope of ever getting it back. Curse the vampire and all of his kind, for what has been done to me."

At that moment she sounded remarkably like Vrenkley. "Why was your mother so very happy that you should soon marry Baslon?" I asked. I posed the question so that Cherry should not begin to rant and rave about the wrongs that had been done to her. It was like her to never forget an injury.

"Because in most cases," explained Cherry, "vampires are dominant over witches. You heard what Baslon said about his father being the ruler of Romania. With my mother's daughter the wife (or slave, as is more likely) of a very prominent vampire, she would gain more power and there would be less people, animals and creatures willing to assault her. It was a matter of power, to her. I really don't care for Baslon and I enjoy provoking those who think they have power over me."

"I have seen as much," I commented.

"I am afraid," resumed Cherry, "I have been provoking to both my mother and Baslon. If my mother finds out about it, her confidence in me will be lessened. I thought rebellion would lessen Baslon's power over me and it did, for a while. He'll get it back tonight."

"Don't worry. You said that if you could go out of the area that Baslon's father ruled, you would not be subject to his commands."

"Yes, but he could order me not to leave," pouted Cherry. "Then he could order me to do anything and everything. I haven't the slightest idea to what extent I must obey and if I disobey, then my license could be suspended."

"What license?"

"Oh, I meant I wouldn't be recognized as a witch any longer, for a while at least. It's supposed to be a mortification, but I really can't see why it would be objectionable. The benefits are not taken away and the limitations are taken off. I suppose the only drawback would be that I would be shunned by all witches, but being half human, the human race would accept me. A true witch would have nowhere to go."

"You . . . " I stopped to clear my throat. "Your mother said that I was part witch." I watched Cherry closely to see what her reaction would be to this.

"Oh. Well, you should be bewailing your misfortune to have so little of it in you that I should not be able to tell that it is there. A witch can always recognize another witch. Humans can recognize true witches, if they know what to look for and have sharp eyes, but not half witches, or even three quarter witches. Maybe there is only enough witch blood in you to count at only the most dire of circumstances. I bet you could read my mind, if I gave you a bit of help."

"I'd rather not try. I don't mind you being a witch, as long as you don't show it too often, but I don't wish to have any reminders that I'm part witch."

"As you wish. I don't care." I could tell that she was really very eager to have me learn.

"If tonight is going to be your initiation, shouldn't you rest? You don't want to be tired."

"Of course, Michael. I will also want to be fresh if Baslon tries any new tactics before I gain new friends. I really do suspect him, but I don't know why he would do anything. He has no reason. Good night. Or should I say good day?" So saying, she left for her room, and I did the same, going to sleep almost immediately.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Cherry was up before I was, wearing very elegant clothes. Her hair was arranged loosely, intertwined with semi precious stones, with a thin circlet of platinum on top of it. The dress she was wearing was colored red violet, about the color of her hair and eyes mixed together. The fine silk had been extremely carefully embroidered with blue and gold thread around the edges, in the shape of hundreds and thousands of tiny roses, daisies, daffodils, crocuses, irises and other types of flowers. A silver, fur lined cloak, with a deep hood of velvet was upon her shoulders. The gold ring that might have saved her life shone brightly and it was accompanied by a wrist band of a similar metal. Around her neck was an elaborate diamond necklace, partially covering the holes in it.

I must confess that I stared when I saw her, looking like she did. There was a faint radiance about her, making her look like an angel. Her skin had a rosy tinge to it, and although not at all like she used to have, all flushed and healthy, it showed that her blood was coming back. Cherry caught me staring and stared back for a moment to unnerve me before averting her glance to the window, from which she had pulled the curtains away.

"Well, Michael, what do you think of my ceremonial robes?" she asked sullenly.

I swallowed. "You . . . ." I couldn't quite finish.

"I know. What I'm thinking is I might have overdone it," she almost snapped. "Seeing me like this might give Baslon reason to try to get me back as soon as possible, and it would be his father I have sworn loyalty to, not himself. I think I might be in danger and you as well. The longer I stay alive, the longer you will stay alive and Baslon thinks that I would not have as much reason to stay alive if you were not in danger, or the danger was already passed."

"You are beautiful," I whispered.

"Stop staring." She scowled.

"What is wrong?" I asked, sitting down in a high backed chair which was facing away from Cherry. She didn't answer for a few moments so I repeated the question. "What's wrong?"

"My mother's form of transportation. I could never create these clothes with magic, at least, not yet. She gave me these and they were already on me when I woke up. I would have preferred to dress myself, and I would have preferred something less elaborate." Her voice became less tense.

"I can see why you might be upset." I didn't turn around. I was afraid to look at Cherry. "What do you think Baslon's response will be?"

"The same as yours, most likely. Only he will let his raptures go on longer and they will be less hidden."

"And if you tell him to stop, he will either ignore you or tell you that you are worthless except for that." I imagined Cherry smiling.

"You have been very observant." She came around and sat in the chair in front of me. I was careful not to let her see that I was still watching her closely. Since I had already had time for my astonishment to give way, I did not watch her every second. She was still shining and that didn't come from the dress. When she opened her eyes all the way, the room flashed with amethyst fire which she didn't seem to notice it. Whenever that happened, I had to close my eyes as looking the other way wouldn't have been quite enough. Her eyes were half closed for most of the time though, which might have made her look like a lizard had her features not been so bright. The jewels in her hair shone, as did her hair itself. Luckily the sun was mostly down, or I would not have been able to bear the reflection of the light.

Lovely was she, but I no longer had to rest my eyes on her always. Brooding, I thought of how much she looked like her name. Slightly flushed, with her red hair and robes her color was cherry like and only remembrance of her temper and her slim, delicate looking figure saved me from teasing her of the resemblance, which might have been fatal. Her half closed eyes showed that she was in one of her meditating moods and to break her from thought was, to her, showing a desire to meet the Creator in person. So I let her think until she chose to come out, or Baslon chose to take a chance at disturbing her. The latter was what happened, when Baslon opened the door.

Cherry groaned but got up from her chair, turning to face Baslon just as he came into the living room. I got up also, eager to see Baslon's reaction. It was more than Cherry had anticipated.

What happened was this. Baslon came through the door, wearing his usual black attire with a scarlet cummerbund and great black cape. When he saw her, he stopped short, his mouth agape. There was adoration, awe and admiration, as I had expected, but there was also fear of two different kinds. Fear of her and fear for her. He worked his mouth open and closed a few times, not able to get any sounds out. He started to take a step back, but the door was closed and he was standing up against it. Finally, Baslon gasped out in a weak voice;

"Who are you?"

"I am Cherry. Are you all right, Baslon?"

"Lady, lady . . . ." His voice trailed off, shaking his head and Cherry's face showed concern that it did not often show. Even if Cherry could feel no happiness or sadness, she could feel pity, even for her enemy. Her eyes opened with her concern and, accompanying the purple flash of fire, there came a scream from Baslon, causing Cherry to close her eyes and cover her ears. The scream stopped. Baslon was crouching on the floor, his face shielded with his arms and cape.

"Who are you?" he asked again, cautiously lowering the cape while Cherry partially opened her eyes. "What are you?"

"I am Cherry, half witch, sometimes called the heir to the throne of Mnerecros, the child princess." This must have been her full title. "Also called rosig stern, the rose star and elven, the all seer and immortal, I call myself ill named. Does that answer your question?"

Baslon wasn't paying attention. "It won't do, it just won't do," he muttered. "I'll lose her, and after what I've seen tonight, I'll be able to bear it less." He peered up at Cherry, her eyes open with none of the fire left in them that had been there. Baslon stood up and with a gracious bow, said, "The carriage is outside. There has been a slight inconvenience. My brother . . . ." He stopped short, glancing longingly at Cherry.

"Your brother has decided he wants to come with us?" asked Cherry innocently.

"Yes," said Baslon sourly, "and if he sees you, I don't know how long I'll have you."

"You forget. I won my freedom a few days past."

"I remember. You won your freedom of mind, but not of body. I still have you, although you do not belong to me. A little mouse in a trap, rather than a loyal dog, but still not a deer in the woods."

At the first part of the last sentence, a spasm of anger passed over Cherry's face and a low hiss broke through her lips. Afraid that Cherry might attack Baslon and get hurt, (I had reason to believe Baslon stronger than Cherry) I pulled her down to a chair directly behind her. She let me do it, otherwise it would not have been done.

"Why this sudden outburst of fury?" asked Baslon, looking curiously at Cherry, not without some respect "Cherry used to keep pet mice and they were better trained than most dogs in the district," I hastened to explain before Cherry could give way to one of her pert answers. "She took a good deal of pride in them and if she could feel love, it would be for them rather than the closest of her relatives. The time she killed someone was in revenge for the person killing one of them . . . "

"It was Ranna," broke in Cherry. "Her sixth birthday would have been the next day."

" . . . and she does not like to be reminded of her death."

"I can see why that would make you unhappy," remarked Baslon, "but if we do not go soon, we will be late and my brother unhappy. My Lady, if you will be so kind . . . ?" He offered his arm to Cherry and after a slight deliberation, she took it.

"This once, but it may be never again. Michael, hurry up!" She grabbed my hand with her free one.

"Did you know, Cherry," said Baslon as we walked down the corridor, "that you could attribute all your troubles to your great beauty and all my troubles to your stubbornness? Soon another will be added to my problems. I do not know if you would consider it a problem of yours."

"I know, but if you had been fully grown when you wer made a vampire, you would have found a fully grown woman instead of a child for a mate."

Baslon raised an eyebrow. "You do not know? You should be told." Baslon was deterred from telling her whatever it was by opening the front door, which was quite heavy enough for him even with his supernatural strength. When it had been opened enough, he did not speak any more.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

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