Some days are bound to start out badly.

The instant she caught sight of the strange shadow which passed over the sun, blocking the bright rays from reaching the ground, Sekua turned on the spot and ran. As she twisted through a side door of the Association's building, dark hair tossing about, she caught a glimpse of a darkly clad figure striding toward the main entrance with purpose.

"Lock the doors!" she cried as she entered, causing her friends and associates to start in alarm. A couple of the swifter ones leapt to their feet, running to slide the metal bar across the massive steel doors.

Sekua herself dashed through the work floor, scattering her fellow workers, to the office, where the computers and safe were kept. The office itself was always kept locked and had no knob on this side, so rather than try to enter there, she went around to one of the windows which was carelessly left open.

With a twist of her slight body, she was through the window. The few people there stood, surprised. They hadn't heard her calling to lock their doors.

"He'll want what's in here," she gasped out. Without questioning who, or why, one of the managers shut the extra door to the safe, spinning the combination.

"Help me lock the windows," Sekua ordered, short of breath--more from fear than from running. They closed shutters and turned the locks, which seemed terribly weak.

There was one window left, the one through which she'd entered. Sekua turned to it--and nearly screamed. How she managed to swallow her shriek, she didn't know, but what she saw nearly froze her to the spot.

He was there. A small smile played about his lips, which were crimson dark in his pale face. Indolently he bent forward and whispered, "So nice of you to lead me here." His voice was velvety and mesmerizing, but Sekua jerked back. He shrugged, turning his attention on the others.

She took the opportunity to drop beneath a desk, out of his line of sight, though she wasn't sure if it would do any good; his kind were notoriously good at finding people.

Upon seeing him, her friends had been working furiously to undo the locks on the office door, but it was difficult to open so many when they were so hurried.

Suddenly, he was there. One woman let out a little whimper just as the last bolt was flung back, and they backed away hurriedly. Sekua was still under the desk, fervently wishing she could get to the door, too. But he was blocking the way. The window, maybe?

He moved to the safe and casually opened it. The ease of his action, unfazed by the complicated locks, annoyed her, but she made no noise. If he moved just a little more, she could rush by and easily get through the door.

As if obedient to her wishes, he stepped a bit farther to the side, and she took her chance, bolting from beneath the desk, out the door. She tried to close it behind her, to create a barrier against him, but it wouldn't budge. Risking a glance, she saw that he held the door, staring straight at her, an amused look in his dark, feral eyes.

Her heart stopped momentarily, then resumed its beat at a furious pace. She ran, expecting at any moment to feel that viselike grip around her throat.

She continued out the front door, noticing as she passed that it had been torn rather dramatically from its hinges. That was all the time she had to note anything, however, because in the next moment she was somehow facing him again. Her legs failed to obey her command to run very fast in the other direction, and she found she couldn't move at all.

"Sekua," he murmured, his tone nearly reprimanding. Certainly offended.

At the sound of her name, the one thing you should never, ever tell one of them, her volition deserted her. His hypnotic eyes caught her own, and she stared, helpless, caught. She tried to speak, but couldn't even open her mouth. A squeak came from the back of her throat, which immediately shamed her. That released her enough to let her respond to him.

"Bastard," she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, turning to regard her askance. "That remains to be seen," he said, and reached for her.

Move, she commanded herself, but her muscles would not answer. His fingers lightly brushed her forehead, caressing, and she fell unconscious to the ground.

Coward, was Sekua's first accusing thought as she came to.

Some vampire hunter you are, she continued to berate herself. Faced with one and you nearly collapse. She paused her mental dialogue, confused. Wait, I did collapse. Though I think it was something he did.

Glancing out the window, she saw that it was well after sunset. She was alone, caught, in the dark, in a vampire's home.

They called them vampires for lack of a better word. Well, also because they drank blood. But they hadn't risen from the ground, as folktales from older times told; they were impervious to garlic, crosses, running water, fire, beheading, and stakes through the heart. The only thing which killed them was sunlight--real sunlight: not reflected, not synthesized. They hadn't originated from Earth, but arrived one day in a flashing golden starship, which had set down in Chicago. They had spread from there, feeding on and changing humans.

Not much was understood about the vampires, except that they looked human but had powers gained, presumably, by drinking blood. Rumors as to what these powers were, exactly, were vague. But it was possible that they were immortal, or at least aged slowly; they'd been said to be able to control humans and animals; perhaps they could shapeshift, or read minds, or had any number of super powers. It was sometimes whispered that they were once human, but had been cursed to leave the world, and only recently found a way to terrorize their home once more.

They were so poorly understood because it was nearly impossible to get close to one without being fed upon or changed. Sekua had never needed to actually face a vampire before; all the hunting her association did was from a distance, luring vampires into the sun and giving them a quick--if fiery--death. Though now, their work was over. Their base had been found, their lure stolen. Sekua wondered briefly who had betrayed them, but decided that such considerations would be worthless if she didn't figure out how to get away from here.

She assumed the vampire had taken her to his home, or one of them. The room she was in was furnished with a dark leather couch, a mahogany table, shelves full of books, and a potted plant in the corner. She briefly considered taking one of the weighty books as a weapon, but discarded the idea on the basis that a creature which could survive having its head removed likely wouldn't be fazed by an object merely colliding with it.

Rising from the couch that had served as her bed, she tried the door--locked, of course. If only it were daytime; she could break the window and escape into the sunlight, where he couldn't follow. But breaking glass would be as loud as an alarm, and dawn was a while away--how far away, she didn't know; she had no watch, and there was no clock here. But she didn't expect he'd leave her alone until the sun rose. And she really didn't want to discover why he had stolen her away. So she would have to find a better means of escape.

Sekua tested the doorknob again, looking at the keyhole. Now she knew she was in the vampire's home. Who else would have rooms that lock from both sides? She bent and removed two pins that she kept in her left boot and went to work on the lock. Luckily lockpicking was part of her training; vampire hunters, while accepted by society in theory, were often forced to resort to other means to get food and supplies. No one wanted to be associated with vampire killers lest they run into an angry vampire.

After a few minutes' effort, the lock slid free with a barely audible click. She opened the door a sliver, seeking anyone nearby. But happily the hall looked deserted.

Slipping out the door, she padded silently down the hall, glancing around corners and into open rooms. The complete absence of anything alive, save a few decorative plants, only served to make her more uncomfortable. The place seemed hollow, and she feared that any noise she made would be echoed and intensified.

Her explorations began to indicate to her that searching this house was frustrating. She could find no exit, only more corridors and more rooms. There were windows in some of the rooms, but as before, they were bolted shut--and she had already discarded the idea of smashing one. She continued her search, but there had been so many turns in her exploration that she was starting to feel a little lost.

Eventually she rounded a corner and found the entrance hall, which was lit with a glass chandelier overhead. There was a great door, wooden and tall, and blocked with a heavy iron bar. She touched the bar, which was cool and definitely too heavy to lift. Even if she could lift it, she wouldn't be able to set it down quietly. Anyhow, the hinges probably squealed. It seemed appropriate.

Discouraged, she turned around and noticed a tall staircase. It rose right above the exit to the hallway she'd used, which was why she hadn't seen it before. Well, she thought, why not? Maybe there are open windows up there. And if he discovers I'm missing, he'll probably start searching the ground floor.

Aware that she was committing a sin present in every horror movie she'd ever seen, she crept up the stairs, her hand on the shiny silver banister rail. Soft carpeting muffled her footsteps, and the only sound she heard was the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the entrance hall.

At the top of the staircase there was a short hall and three rooms. The first turned out to be a bathroom--did vampires need those? It was lavishly decorated with marble and silver, and Sekua was suddenly uncomfortably aware that she hadn't used a bathroom in several hours. She closed the door firmly behind her as she left. Flushing a toilet in this empty house would draw as much attention as standing at the top of the stairs and shouting for him to come get her.

The second door was tinted black with several locks visible on it, and she hesitated to try opening it, even if it was unlocked. She went to the third door instead, intending to open the black door only if this room held nothing worthwhile.

This door led to a bedroom, which seemed overly cheerful, given the owner of the place. Stuffed animals lined a window seat, and the bed had a soft yellow comforter. Framed pictures of sunlit scenes graced the walls, and the window itself was large and easily opened to let the air in.

Or to let Sekua out. She opened the window and glanced down--the roof sloped toward the ground, and stopped about fifteen feet away. She could make that drop.

She straightened and prepared to climb out, but a soft voice stopped her.

"My mother's room. Do you like it?"

Her breath caught, and she turned, wide-eyed, to see him. His short black hair was ruffled, as if from sleep, but his clothes were perfectly straight: a simple black shirt over black dress pants.

It had often been noted that vampires favored the darker colors.

Sekua was terrified but also very, very angry. "Nice clothes," she muttered. "A bit cliched, though."

He glanced down at himself, amused. "Perhaps, but it's such an easy wardrobe to manage. Everything matches." He turned his gaze back upon her, looking at her from beneath long lashes. "Intending to leave, are you?"

"Why, do you have something against it?" she asked, glaring at him defiantly.

His lips turned up at the corners. "I think so," he commented and lifted a hand. The window behind her swung shut, startling her with its slam.

Irritation overcame a bit more of her fear, and though part of her was screaming at her to shut up and stop annoying him, the other part of her was thoroughly disgusted with having been kidnapped. "What right do you have to keep me here?"

He looked vaguely surprised. "The right of power. You have no power against me. So I can do as I will with you." He stepped closer, lifting a hand against her cheek. Without meaning to, she leaned into the soft, cool touch, but then her eyes widened and she pressed back against the window.

"I have no power over you? So why haven't you killed me yet?" she demanded, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, trying to rub away the memory of his touch.

He regarded her in silence for a moment, and she feared she had pushed him just a bit too far. Eventually, he spoke, his silky voice a mere whisper of sound. "You could have power. I could give you power."

Sekua nearly choked, astonished at the insinuation. "I am a vampire hunter! You can't possibly expect to offer me--to force me to--become like you!"

"You would be surprised at what I could expect, Sekua."

"Stop saying my name!" she cried, angry. "You make it sound--sound--" she faltered. "You're evil," she said flatly. "Don't call me by name."

She suddenly pushed by him and ran out the door, amazed that he didn't stop her, and kept running down the stairs. She crossed the entrance hall and went into one of the corridors leading away, following it past closed doors, taking every turn she could find, until she was hopelessly lost.

She slowed and listened for any sign that he was following her, but the silence was not reassuring. The next door she came to was open, so she ducked into that room.

It was dark, nearly pitch black, but after a moment of blinking, she could make out vague shapes. The room was a study or office, with a computer on a large desk. Curious, she moved around it, quietly riffling through papers--it was too dark to make them out--and opening drawers. Faint light from the doorway caught on something in one of the drawers, causing it to glint slightly. Sekua picked it up and moved back to the hall to examine it. It resembled a computer chip, though it was round and red; wires wrapped around it in a strange pattern.

Weird, she thought. But something about it interested her, so she slipped it into the pocket on the side of her boot and closed the office door behind her.

She continued on, looking for a closet or small, unused room to hide in until morning. But the corridor she was moving through ended in a large kitchen, marble countertops shining in the overhead light.

Sekua glanced nervously over her shoulder. She could backtrack and search more rooms, but if he was following her. . . . The kitchen had many cabinets; maybe she could find a pantry to hide in. Why did he have a kitchen, anyhow, she suddenly wondered? The house had probably come with it and he'd never bothered to remodel, she decided.

Slowly she realized something. There was a door beside the refrigerator.

She tried it. It was unlocked.

Astonished by this stroke of luck, she looked about cautiously before opening the door and stepping through.

She paused a moment. Nothing happened.

Sekua ran. There was a huge yard behind the house and trees lining it; she made for the thickest stand of woods she could see. The grass she crushed indicated her path, but she didn't care--she was almost free.

Ten feet from the woods, she heard his voice behind her.

"Sekua."

Damn it, damn him, damn it, she thought as she slowed unwillingly. She turned to face him, glaring.

"Stop saying my name!"

He strode across the lawn to her, covering the distance swiftly. "Perhaps you are so disturbed by my saying your lovely name, Sekua, because you don't know mine."

"I don't care!" she spat at him.

"Delightful," he murmured, so quietly that she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. He raised his dark brown eyes to hers, his stare so direct that she shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't want to know," she insisted. Vampires didn't tell their names. Names were power--if she knew his, he would have even more reason to destroy her. However he had found her name, it gave him the chance to control her. It had made her stop running. It made her wait here, watching him under the lightening sky.

Dawn was coming soon. She remembered glancing at the grandfather clock in the entrance hall and seeing that there was less than an hour until sunrise.

"Revyn." His voice was soft and oddly gentle. For just a moment, she forgot how powerful and dangerous he was, and only thought of his sad gaze.

She was silent for a moment. Then, tiredly, she said, "Why are you keeping me here?"

He glanced to the east, to the sky that was growing brighter with each passing moment. His jaw clenched, and he turned back to the house. "I'm not keeping you. You can go."

Sekua was stunned. She could go? He must have gone crazy. "You told me your name!" she exclaimed.

He turned his head to regard her. "Perhaps," he said wryly, "I've gone crazy." He walked back into his home, shutting the door silently.

She blinked, expecting him to return and steal her away again, but all was silent. A bird called nearby, startling her. She turned back to the woods, considering. If she left, if he was telling the truth, she could go anywhere she pleased--once she figured out where here was. But . . . he had stolen their lure. Without that, vampires would be unstoppable. She had to do something to prevent him from giving the information to others of his kind. She must get it back, if possible. Perhaps it was hidden somewhere in his house.

If she went back, she could look for it.

If she went back . . . he might never let her go again. He might change her. She shuddered and rubbed her eyes.

Turning again, she faced the house, which seemed to stare back at her. Was he inside, watching?

Well, she told herself, what good is my life if I can't be a vampire hunter?

Sekua slowly crossed the lawn, feeling a weight pressing down on her with every step. It was foolish to go back, she knew, but she had to. For more than just the lure. Had he done something to her? This vampire was so unusual. . . .

The door which led into the kitchen, into the house and its maze of corridors, opened. She bit her lip and walked in, heart pounding.

"Revyn," she said.

He stood by the far wall, waiting. He regarded her with a stony gaze, face blank. His lips parted as though to speak, but he said nothing.

She confronted him warily. "Can I leave later, if I want?"

He nodded.

"Will you try to change me?"

"Only if you wish it."

"I don't!"

He nodded. "I won't try, if you don't want me to."

She paused, considering him. "I don't know what's going on here. I don't understand you. But I . . . I'd like to." The truth of that surprised her, though he took it with grace, nodding once more.

"I will show you your room, and have food brought to you, if you are hungry. This is my father's house; you can go anywhere you wish, though if a door is locked, I ask that you leave it that way."

He placed a hand on her arm to escort her, but she shrugged him away without thinking. After a minute, he moved away, gesturing her to follow.

She complied, and they moved through the kitchen. The curtains over the windows were drawn, but they first rays of light struck them and illuminated the room slightly. At the doorway to the hall, he paused and turned his head to her, speaking softly, his voice like shadows at midnight.

"Thank you for choosing to stay with me, Sekua."

She shivered and continued to follow him through the labyrinth of hallways.