Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2009 21:24:42 -0800
From: Tom Creekmur <tcreekmur@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Chapter 15

* * *

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Nine

The Saga of Hunts-by-night

* * *

     Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon
one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic
depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of
age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

     Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in
a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or
promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned.
Especially in this day and age.

     Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal
characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is
coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be
reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the
author.

     Historical Note: This chapter happens during a single night in May of
1868, in the valley of the heron, but describes the adventures of the
immortal being the Elxa called Hunts-by-night from the early 7th century
CE on.

     And now, on with the story!

* * *

THE SAGA OF HUNTS-BY-NIGHT

     A lost brother of the Elxa returns after many years, and his coming
is the prelude to a fabulous story...

     A tale of the supernatural that spans the centuries, of love and
death, mystery and loss, trials and triumphs. Such is...

THE SAGA OF HUNTS-BY-NIGHT

* * *

     Zack Weir whistled happily to himself as he strolled along a narrow
forest track, somewhere to the southeast of the Elxa settlement of Roman
Rock. He was on his way to the home he shared with his lover, Eben Hale.
As he came to his goal he paused to admire the ornately carved cedar board
mounted over the door.

     It had been a gift from his heron brother Yves Rebour, who was a
skilled woodworker. It read: 'Sun Bear & Laughing Wolf', his and Eben's
tribal names, in fancy lettering. Zack smiled and reached for the door
handle, calling out for his partner as he did so.

     "Eben? You here?"

     Zack had not needed to speak. The heightened awareness of his
surroundings, one of the powers he possessed due to his werebeast persona,
would have told him if Eben were around. Silence greeted his words, as he
already expected.

     The afternoon sunlight seemed to push almost violently past the big
man, through the open doorway, sweeping the shuddering shadows away ahead
of it and illuminating the interior of the isolated cabin. There was no one
inside. Mildly disappointed, Zack glanced around as he laid a small bundle
of supplies he had brought with him on the table.

     As he wondered where Eben was, his eye fell on the reason. A calendar
on the wall had that particular May day in 1868 circled in red. Zack went
to a window and looked out into the green wilderness that closely
surrounded the home he shared with Eben.

     "Have a good run, little buddy," he whispered into the trees.

     Zack knew what his lover was doing. Like himself, Eben was inhabited
by a power neither man had asked for nor could rid themselves of. But with
the help of their friends among the Elxa, whose way of life gave them
special insight into supernatural phenomena, Eben and Zack had learned to
live with it.

     That meant having to give in to the power, at least one day in a week.
By doing that, they stayed in control of their abilities so that no one
would be harmed by them. Zack glanced at the calendar again and saw his own
days indicated there as well, circled in blue.

     With a sigh, Zack addressed himself to a few chores. He brought in
some wood and water, and swept the floor. As he was jabbing the broom
upwards into the rafters, clearing away some cobwebs, the sound of a
distant gunshot came to his ears.

     He judged it to be too far away to pay any great heed to, though it
did remind him of another task he had to see to. Gathering the tools he
needed, Zack began to inspect and clean his firearms. Like his brother
Elxa who called the valley of the heron home, Zack depended on his guns
far too much to be complacent about what shape they were in, for the
wilderness could be as surprising as it was unforgiving to those who
lived in its midst.

     At one point, Zack was hefting the barrel of his Winchester, aiming
it towards the sunlight that poured through one window and eyeing the fine,
twisting lines of rifling that spiraled along its inside length. He was
looking for any stubborn spots of dirt or corrosion that might have
resisted his first cleaning. Then the source of his light dimmed, and Zack
looked to see why.

     "Hello," came a voice from the other side of the window.

     "Asa!" Zack exclaimed as his friend came around to the open door.
"Come in! What brings you here?"

     "I was hunting south of here," he answered, wiping sweat from his
forehead.

     "I see," Zack said as he eyed the blood that discolored the man's
clothes. "I hope that isn't yours."

     "Nope, I bagged a young buck and carried it as far as the edge of your
pond yonder," Asa gestured. "Would you and Eben be up for an impromptu
barbecue?"

     "Eben's not here, but I'm game. I haven't even thought about makin'
dinner."

     "Okay, I'll start butchering then."

     Zack turned back to his guns, wondering. The Elxa shaman Falling Star
had told him more than once that coincidences were seldom without meaning,
especially in the valley of the heron, usually caused by the activities of
the spirits that guided and protected the Elxa tribe. And Zack had to admit
he had been thinking of Asa recently.

     When he had found his partner gone, Zack's thoughts had gone to the
five other members of the Elxa with whom he could talk freely. He had
thought they were all far away, at their homes near the tribe's main
sacred site, the cave of mysteries. The images of Falling Star and his
lover, Red Hand passed sweetly through his mind.

     Then there was the heron elder, Xaculi. He had been the one who had
found Eben and brought him to the Elxa. His death had been a hard blow to
Zack's lover. But with the power raised by the Heart Call, Falling Star
had brought the elder back to life, and he now lived as he did before, at
the cave of mysteries with the heron shaman and his lover. Lastly there
was Falling Star's apprentice, Zeke Barnet, whose Elxa name was Nizano,
and his lover, Asa Sykes. Asa, also known as Sees Far.

     Asa was another who knew what it was to be different, to possess an
unusual power that made others who knew of it leery of him. Among the heron
men, he had found a way to control his ability, acceptance and a refuge,
just as Zack and Eben had. Zack was glad Asa had turned up now.

     Beginning shortly after the first Heart Call ritual, Zack had been
experiencing odd dreams. He saw strange places, quite unlike the forests
of the valley of the heron, and unusual peoples. And he wanted to speak
about the uncanny visions to someone.

     Later, when Zack had finished with his guns, he went out to see how
Asa was faring. The afternoon sun hovered low in the west, glowing red as
a mad bull's eye. By its light Zack could see that a portion of the pond
beside where Asa worked was darkened by the deer's blood. Asa looked up
from his task and smiled wanly at the blonde-haired man who approached,
displaying his darkly dripping hands.

     "I'm afraid I'm better at hunting than butchering," he admitted. "I
guess I'm still a townsman in some ways."

     "Here," Zack said, squatting beside him. "Let me help."

     Asa handed Zack his knife in silence, eyeing the bulge that showed in
the tightened crotch of the big man's pants. Zack pretended not to notice
Asa's interest as he finished the job, a skill he had learned as a boy on
his parent's homestead. Then together they kindled a fire in an open pit
near the house and set the carcass on a spit over it.

     While Zack settled down to keep an eye on their meal, Asa washed the
blood off his hands. Then he rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a
small journal. Sitting near Zack, he began to write.

     "What're you doin'?" Zack asked.

     "Falling Star suggested that I'd remember my dreams better if I wrote
them down. And I've been having some very strange ones lately." Asa
confided.

     "Oh? So have I."

     "Really?"

     "Yes. And I've been wantin' to talk about them to someone else,
someone whom I could trust."

     "Someone like me?"

     "Well, Eben's not here... and we do have things in common... "

     "Yes."

     A solemn look passed across Asa's face as he thought of his ability
to foresee the future of anyone he touched and Zack's power of becoming a
werebeast, a great blonde-furred bear, known as the Ghost-Bear by the
Elxa. Zack's lover Eben was another of that sort, only he could become a
reddish-brown pelted wolf, the Spirit-Wolf. Only a few of the heron men
knew of their talents. Most of the tribe knew only that two 'spirit
animals', a wolf and a bear, roamed the valley of the heron, protecting
it and the Elxa, and that they were not to be hunted or shot at.

     "Then I guess it's lucky I came along," Asa finished.

     "I seem to recall that Falling Star doesn't believe in luck."

     "So, you think the spirits guided me here?"

     "Why not? We both know they exist."

     Asa nodded, thinking of the many proofs the Elxa's shaman had shown
him of the invisible powers that dwelt in the valley of the heron, before
he laid aside his journal and spoke to Zack. "Now, what kind of dreams are
you having?"

     "I keep seein' this strange house, set in an orchard of unfamiliar,
dark green trees... "

     Asa stiffened before interrupting. "A white stone house? With
columns?"

     "Yes," blinked Zack. "How'd you know?"

     "If I'm right, we've been having the same dream!"

     "How could that be?"

     "I don't know. But let's tell each other what we've seen. Maybe we'll
learn something."

* * *

     A reddish-brown furred wolf padded silently through the forest as the
sun disappeared beyond the western horizon. Eben Hale had wandered far in
his Spirit-Wolf persona, following a familiar track he had laid down for
himself to patrol whenever he traveled through this part of the valley of
the heron. Just then he was nearing the old, isolated cabin of Dan Epps
and Yves Rebour, somewhere to the north of the native encampment of Roman
Rock.

     Already Eben could smell the scents of the men who lived there, two
elders of the Elxa tribe and close friends of his. But the supernatural
creature froze at the edge of the pond near the cabin when he detected the
slightest of movements in the gathering darkness. Something was approaching
his friends' home with incredible stealth. The Spirit-Wolf was momentarily
confused as he watched the intruder come on. His sensitive nose would
normally have detected any presence that crossed his path long before he
would had seen it.

     Then Eben belatedly caught the scent of the silent presence on the
cool night air. The odor was unusual. Faint and musty, suggestive of a
house that had not been lived in for a long time, and not quite human.

     The fur on the Spirit-Wolf's back bristled in alarm as the singular
odor tickled his nose. It was like nothing Eben had ever sensed before.
He was not sure what it was. Nevertheless he continued to scrutinize the
strange figure closely.

     The man-shaped shadow moved absolutely, impossibly soundlessly,
gliding through the darkened woods like a ghost, drawing ever closer to
the old cabin. The intruder appeared to be dressed entirely in black,
momentarily alarming Eben even more as he recalled his fearful encounter
with the evil shaman Blood Wind the year before. The werewolf held his
breath as he watched this strangely clad being stop before one of the
windows and peer inside. The two old men who lived there were sitting
together before their fireplace, holding one another and talking quietly.

     The light from the fire lit the stranger's face as he watched Dan and
Yves for a few moments. Eben could see the man's features were those of a
metiff, an Indian-white hybrid who looked to be in his mid-twenties. As
the breeze stirred his loose, long dark hair, it glinted red sparks in the
reflected light while his dark eyes shone with a cold glitter the werewolf
had never seen before in any other human eye.

     At last the stranger turned away from the window, unknowingly facing
the spot where the werewolf was hidden. Eben noted the mixture of regret
and sadness that marred the man's handsome, lightly bearded face. It had
been so long since he had last seen the pair within the cabin, friends of
his from many years before.

     The man looked at his hands. Though he was nearly the same age as Dan
and Yves, he did not look it. His hands, and the rest of him as well, still
appeared young.

     Outwardly, he had not changed. The years had passed without marking
him. He realized there could be no joy in a reunion with his old comrades.
He could only now bring them shock, and fear.

     'Oh, Basil,' he thought sadly as he turned to retrace his steps into
the nightdark woods. 'You were so right. You tried to tell me going back
to the valley of the heron would be hard... '

     The Spirit-Wolf was momentarily stunned. Not only had Eben felt the
stranger's emotions, he had heard his thoughts! Eben had only been able to
do that with two other persons, with the shaman Falling Star and his lover
Zack, before that moment.

     Even as that startling realization flew through his brain, the
werewolf stiffened. Alarmingly, the strange being had stopped in his
tracks and was looking back, towards the spot where the Spirit-Wolf was
hiding. The werebeast realized the man had heard his thoughts as well!

     'Who's there?' The thought went silently out into the darkened woods,
projected by a powerful mind.

     Along with the mental challenge the Spirit-Wolf received several other
emotional impressions. This being was wary of meeting others of his kind,
whatever they were, because of conflicts he had experienced with them in
the past. The stranger had a companion, but thought he was far, far away.
Obviously, the man's senses were supernaturally heightened, like the
werewolf's.

     The stranger had learned the hard way that not all of his kind could
be trusted and tensed as if he expected to fight. But he was confused as
well, and the Spirit-Wolf soon realized why. He was busily scanning the
benighted forest for another human form.

     Apparently, this man had never encountered a being like the
Spirit-Wolf before. Curious, and unable to retreat without giving himself
away, the werewolf decided to be bold and stepped out of his cover,
showing himself. The stranger was quite taken aback when the animal began
to telepathically converse with him.

     'You are trespassing on the lands of the Elxa!' Eben challenged.

     'I am an Elxa!' the man responded mentally after a moment or two of
sheer astonishment. 'My name is Jack Ramsey. My tribal name is Takonxa.'

     'Son of the mountain ram,' translated the Spirit-Wolf, musing.

     Then Eben felt Jack's mind attempting to probe his. Eben tried to
shield his thoughts, just as Falling Star had taught him, imagining his
mind closing like a flower at twilight. But Jack's power burrowed past
the obstacles, like a determined bee, extracting Eben's memories for
examination.

     Jack's next words showed up his surprise. 'You... Eben Hale... are a
werewolf!?'

     'Yes!' the upset creature said, advancing as menacingly as he could.
'And I'm warning you, don't do that again! If you wanna know something
from me, ask, don't just yank it out of my head!'

     'I apologize. I'm used to speaking like this with my lover, opening
up my mind to share my thoughts and feelings with him. But you don't, do
you?'

     'I can only speak like this when I'm in my wolf form, and then only
with two others. What are you, that you can do the same?'

     'That would be a long story,' Jack began, looking thoughtfully at the
Spirit-Wolf. 'Yes, a long story. And you might be able to comprehend it.
You see, I've been away from the Elxa for a very long time... '

     Eben's jaw dropped, exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth. 'It can't be!
Are you the one the legends call Hunts-by-night?!'

     'Ah, the Elxa still remember. No. I'm not Hunts-by-night, though I am
his friend and lover.'

     'Is Hunts-by-night here?'

     'No. He's not.'

     Eben caught a hint of apprehension as Jack thought those last words
and chose not to respond. Jack went on.

     'I've returned to the valley of the heron, though Hunts-by-night
warned me I would find no rest here. I was beginning to think he was
right, that all I could do was frighten my old friends, like Dan and Yves
in there, whom I first met almost forty years ago, when they were young,
vital men,' Jack said, motioning towards the old cabin. 'But if there are
beings like you here, who are different like me and could understand what
I am, I might be able to make a home here again, with new friends. Listen,
can you bring me to the others you spoke of?'

     'Why?'

     'Well, then I could tell you my story and let you be the judges of
whether or not I should stay.'

     'Alright,' Eben telepathed. 'My home is not too far... '

     'Lead the way then,' Jack answered. 'And go as fast as you like. I'll
be able to keep up.'

     Eben laughed to himself. 'If it's a race you want... '

     The Spirit-Wolf turned, preparing to launch himself into the forest.
To his intense surprise, Eben found the black clad being barring his path.
The werewolf fell back from Jack in consternation.

     'How'd you do that?'

     'The same way anyone might, by using their legs,' Jack smiled. 'I just
did it faster than you could see.' He stretched out a hand towards the
Spirit-Wolf. 'May I touch you?'

     Eben responded by coming closer and Jack slowly lowered his hand to
the werebeast's back. Eben wondered at the coldness of Jack's hand as it
sank into the soft reddish fur, stroking it gently. Then Jack straightened
up.

     'Thank you for indulging my curiosity. I've never encountered a being
like you, outside of certain, curious old legends I've read.' Jack
admitted. 'Shall we go now?'

* * *

     Zack was standing on the path again, a carefully maintained path of
dark flagstones surrounded by colored gravel and lined with unfamiliar
trees. These latter had oddly twisted limbs and deep green leaves. The
path led up to the doors of a building he had seen before. It was
constructed of some type of white stone, marble, perhaps, with slim
columns ornamenting its outer facade. Up until then, that was all Zack
had seen in his recurring dreams.

     But now, the door of the house opened and a man stepped out. He was
tall and appeared in to be in his early thirties. His long blonde hair
was tied back with a green cord and his long fair beard fell into the
folds of an odd sort of mantle, which he wore over a skirtlike tunic of
fine linen. Dark leather sandals completed his costume. His clothing was
unlike any Zack had ever seen before.

     But he also saw something in the stranger's blue eyes that Zack had
seen often enough, usually in the eyes of his Elxa brothers. An interest,
a desire, that Zack had learned to recognize and respond to. The handsome
stranger beckoned to Zack and the heron man stepped towards the open
doorway, licking his lips in anticipation.

     The blonde man opened his arms and embraced Zack. Zack hugged back
enthusiastically, seeking the stranger's lips. But instead of moist
softness, he found his lips moving through thick hair.

     "Hmmm... " he heard a familiar voice mutter. "Well, hello to you,
too... "

     "What... " Zack whispered before he realized he had woken up.

     His newly opened eyes looked through the nearest window and saw the
stars shining in the night sky; the last purple tinges of evening twilight
were fading fast. Zack found himself hugging his bedmate from behind, his
face pressed into long brown hair. Then he remembered the love he had
shared with Asa after they had eaten, and falling asleep together
afterwards.

     "Wow, what a dream."

     "Another one?" Asa asked, turning over to face Zack.

     "Yeah."

     Asa reached over to ruffle the fair fur covering Zack's chest. Zack
gave a little snort of amusement and started to kiss his friend. They could
talk about dreams later. Just as their lips touched however, the sound of
the cabin door opening interrupted them.

     With a heartfelt groan the men separated. Zack rolled out of the bed
intending to find and pull on his pants. Instead he stopped when he saw his
naked lover framed in the doorway, the softly starlit night silvering the
hairs on his furry body. Eben came to embrace Zack in a bear hug, kissing
him deeply before speaking.

     "Brace yourself," Eben began. "We have a visitor, a friend of
Hunts-by-night."

     "What?" both Zack and Asa said together, drawing Eben's attention to
Asa.

     "Oh! Hello Asa. I'm glad you're here." Eben went to a chair where he
had left his clothes draped and started putting them on, reminding the
others of their nakedness. They began dressing too as Eben called towards
the open door. "Come in, Jack."

     As Jack entered, Zack knew at once that their oddly clad visitor was
not human, for his senses were as keen as Eben's. As Eben introduced Jack,
Asa looked the stranger over in unconcealed awe. He wondered if Jack really
had seen Hunts-by-night, the legendary protector of the Elxa celebrated in
many of the native myths he had heard since joining the tribe.

     "Yes, I have, prophet," he said, letting Asa and Zack know he could
read their thoughts. "I see you're wondering about my clothes," Jack added,
running a hand down the front of the black garb he wore. "I picked these
up in China. They are the usual uniform of spies and assassins in the East.
The rough, raw silk is very tough and the dull, dark color helps me conceal
myself at night, though I can do that without it very well." Then Jack's
expression changed, echoing his listeners' surprise as he looked from one
to the other. "You've both seen him too, in your dreams!"

     "We've had some unusual dreams lately," Zack confessed. "But we didn't
know the strangely dressed blonde man we saw in them was Hunts-by-night!"

     "Yeah," added Asa, "especially since we saw him in a very odd sort of
house... "

     "...built of marble," Jack finished. "I know of it because he told me
of it. It was his home, a long, long time ago."

     "Why have we had these dreams?"

     "I'm not sure. Perhaps because you're different too, you sensed my
presence and thoughts, which came through to you in your dreams. Or else,
the spirits that protect the tribe were trying to alert you to my return.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if the chief shaman... Falling Star is it
now? If he already knows I am back in the valley of the heron."

     "Tell us about your friend, Hunts-by-night," Eben asked quietly.

     "Sure, if you'll let me tell my story in my own way. I can send my
thoughts directly to your minds and you'll see it as if you were an
audience in a playhouse. May I?"

     The three men agreed and sat at the table with Jack. At his request,
they relaxed and soon felt an eldritch radiance emanating from their
visitor, touching their minds and bringing them in sync with his own. The
heron men's surroundings, or so it seemed, faded into a gray void, where
time and distance were obliterated and gradually recomposed into a scene
set beside the sandy banks of a wilderness stream in the early summer of
1832. They saw Jack there, looking merely human, more than a bit haggard,
and worried.

* * *

     Jack was in trouble and he knew it. Little more than a month had
passed since he had bid farewell to Fort Vancouver and plunged into the
wild interior of the Oregon country alone. In the last few days of his
hard trek his only companion had been ill luck.

     The young metiff had seen no sign of game at all in the lands he had
passed through. No animals whose valuable pelts he was in search of, nor
ones that might have provided him a meal. The food he had carried with him
was long gone and hunger was beginning to pinch at him.

     'At least I found a safe place to sleep,' mused Jack, looking over his
camp.

     A spring flood of unusual violence must have come down out of the
surrounding highlands to so leave its mark upon the place. The raging
waters had uprooted and carried several trees to the point where Jack
rested, somewhere along the sandy banks of a nameless tributary of the
Umatilla River. There the logs had piled and packed themselves together,
forming a low, irregular cul-de-sac.

     The dry and battered trunks were firmly imbedded in gritty layers
of dark sediment. The whole lay somewhat parallel to the base of an
overhanging cliff. It was a defensive work that would serve as well as
any military abattis against attack.

     Jack sat within this natural fort as the last light of day slipped
away beyond the jagged western horizon. He sighed at it and turned his
attention back to the small construct at his feet, regarding it ruefully.
It was a stack of dry sticks he had piled neatly amid a carefully laid
circle of stones brought from the banks of the nearby stream.

     Having gone to such trouble, Jack was somewhat chagrined when he
realized - after he was done working on it - that he had nothing to cook
over the fine campfire he had constructed with such care. He pushed his
long hair back out of his eyes, reconsidering his situation for the
dozenth time. Suddenly the sharp sound of wood snapping came to his ears,
jarring the distracted man back to reality.

     Someone or something had stepped on a dry twig not too far away. With
admirable speed, Jack moved to press himself against the bulwark of logs
and peered cautiously in the direction of the noise, holding his rifle at
the ready. After a suspenseful minute of waiting and watching he perceived
a vague shape moving closer.

     As Jack strained his eyes to see in the gathering darkness, he made
out a human form approaching his position. He blinked in consternation,
wondering if hunger was beginning to affect his mind. For he could clearly
see a blonde-headed white man strolling easily along the riverbank,
seemingly without a care in the world.

     The stranger's clothes were another source of puzzlement to Jack;
though the man was clad in the ubiquitous buckskin garments of the
frontier, the leathers had been dyed a deep red color, unlike any such
clothing Jack had ever seen before. The man carried a fine Hawken rifle in
one hand and a pack slung carelessly across his shoulder. He looked to be
only a little older than Jack, of medium height, and his long, fair hair
hung loose from beneath the broad rim of a dark red felt hat. He was also
possessed of an impressive full beard that fell in golden waves from his
cheeks and chin, swaying gently against his chest as he came nearer Jack's
camp in the twilight.

     "You almost got yourself shot, mister," Jack challenged as he rose
from his cover, shaking off his initial shock.

     "That would've been a bad idea," the red clad stranger returned
companionably, setting his pack and rifle down inside the log walls of
Jack's little fort. His lack of surprise showed he had known where Jack
was all along. "There's no telling how many hostile Indians you might be
giving the position of your camp away to."

     "You're right of course," Jack admitted, mad at himself for appearing
like such a greenhorn before the man.

     "My name's Basil," the man said affably, offering his hand.

     "I'm Jack, Jack Ramsey."

     As Jack replied he gripped Basil's hand, surprised by how cold it was,
and looked intently into the man's face. His most arresting feature was his
eyes. The only thing Jack could think of to compare them to was the sky
over the mountains after a storm had passed, wonderfully, almost
preternaturally, clear and blue. But he was soon quite sure he had not
seen the man before, at Fort Vancouver or anywhere else in the Oregon
country.

     As for Basil, he found himself admiring the dark good looks of the
man whose hand he grasped, in whom the best of native and white blood had
seemed to conspire in the making of a handsome metiff male. His full beard
was short and the same color as his hair, a unique red-brown, while sharp
and shiny dark brown eyes radiated intelligence and curiosity. Jack was
about to pose the first of many questions to the newcomer when Basil spoke
up first.

     "That's a nice fire you've built. It'd be a shame to waste it," Basil
observed amiably. "I'll go scare up some meat."

     "But you just said... "

     Jack had begun to remind Basil of what he himself had admitted
earlier, about what the sound of a rifle shot might lead to, when he was
silenced by the sight of Basil drawing a short bow out of his pack. Next,
the man produced a quiver of arrows. The quiver was of dogskin, and
carefully made. It was obviously native handiwork.

     Then Jack thought about the scarcity of game he had observed in the
area. He was preparing to dissuade Basil from hunting. But Basil looked
up at him at that exact moment and spoke.

     "I'm sure I can find something. I saw deersign on my way here."

     "You must have sharper eyes than me then," Jack scoffed, speaking
more harshly than was warranted. He was annoyed more with himself, for his
appearance of helplessness, than with Basil, but it did not come out
sounding that way. "I may only be half Clatsop Indian, but I was trained
to track game by the best hunters in my tribe."

     Basil looked the younger man in the eye. A shadow seemed to pass over
his face, as if he were about to speak sharply. But when he did, it was in
the same friendly tone as before.

     "I thought as much. I'd heard the voyageurs speak of a metiff who fit
your description before I saw you, at Fort Vancouver."

     "I don't remember ever seeing you there," Jack muttered, thinking he
surely would have remembered hearing people talking about Basil's red
outfit if nothing else.

     "People don't see me, unless I want them to," Basil replied
cryptically as he turned away and dug into his kit. He fished out a
parfleche and continued. "Look, my young, hardheaded friend, there's no
denying that you're in need of a meal. And since you don't seem to think
I have any chance of finding game around here, you'd better dine on this
until I get back, in anticipation of my failure!"

     Jack caught the deerskin pouch his companion tossed him and looked
inside. A musty scent smote his nose as he pulled out a strip of jerked
venison, as dry and brown as old leather. After he had pared a bite sized
portion of it off with his knife and begun to chew on it, he found it was
nearly as tough as old leather as well.

     "Wait here. And don't light the fire until I get back."

     Before Jack could reply, Basil had already vanished into the forest.
Jack wondered at his stealth, hearing but the faintest of rustlings in the
surrounding brush as he left. It dawned on him then that Basil must have
deliberately made noise when he had approached the campsite earlier, so as
not to alarm Jack too much, and possibly provoke him into shooting.

     As the silence of the wilderness returned to his camp, Jack had the
leisure to wonder about what had just happened as he savored his first
taste of food in two days. The last few minutes almost seemed like a
delusion spawned by his fasting, a mirage of some sort. But Basil's sack
and rifle continued to sit opposite him, their quiet reality confirming
the two men's meeting.

     Twenty minutes or so later, just as Jack was done chewing the
remarkably durable bit of jerky, Basil returned and dropped a bundle at
the feet of his astonished companion. While Basil put his bow and arrows
away, Jack unfolded the bloody deerskin parcel and found some choice cuts
of venison inside, ready to be cooked. He lit the fire at once and made
short work of the meat, eating most of it burnt on the outside and raw on
the inside. Basil excused himself and sat nearby, watching the younger
man eat.

     "Tell me about Robert McGyre," Basil murmured, after Jack had assuaged
his hunger.

     "Wha... " Jack choked, gagging on a half-chewed piece of meat. "How do
you know that name?"

     "I said I'd been in Fort Vancouver, remember? I saw you and made some
inquiries. You and Robert, or Rob as he prefers to go by, were trapping
partners for a couple of years, were you not?"

     "Why is that any of your business?"

     "Perhaps I'm in need of a trapping partner," shrugged Basil. "And so I
ask the kinds of questions one might ask of a prospective partner."

     "Who says I need a partner?"

     Basil chuckled, rolled his eyes and lifted his hands palms up to the
starlit sky, as if he were supplicating the god of patience before he
responded again.

     "Friend, it seems to me you need all the help you can get!"

     Jack began to sputter indignantly but Basil cut him off.

     "I find you here in the middle of nowhere, starving, and miles from
where you might find food. Now, would you ally yourself with such a
distinguished backwoodsman?"

     Jack glowered at Basil as he hovered between feelings of insult and
gratitude, for the metiff could not deny that Basil was right. What tipped
the balance at last, he could never say. But he made his choice and,
tossing an empty meat skewer back on the fire with a grimace of disgust
and resignation, began to speak.

     "Rob," he began miserably. "I don't know what I can tell you that you
haven't already heard, if you were at the fort as you say. It was common
knowledge around there about what went on between him and me, because of
that loudmouthed voyageur, Voux."

     "Henri Voux? I know of him."

     "Yes. He got Rob drunk and wormed the story out of him. Then Voux
babbled all about Rob and I to anyone who would listen. You're not gonna
make me repeat the whole story, are you?"

     "No. Not if you don't want to."

     "I don't."

     "I understand."

     "And I don't need any more ridicule or condescension, if that's what
you're implying. Rob and I... we shared everything. I loved him better
than a brother could have, but there was honor in that love. I'm not
ashamed of what happened between us. And I'm still a man, no matter what
the other trappers or anyone else thinks of the way I choose to express
my love!"

     "When I say I understand," Basil whispered, surprising Jack by
reaching out to caress the younger man's shoulder gently, "I mean I
understand because my nature is the same as yours."

     Startled, Jack looked into Basil's eyes, searching them. But he saw no
danger lurking there, none of the cruel hardness he had seen in the eyes of
Robert McGyre, when his partner's harsh denial of the special bond they had
shared broke Jack's heart and drove him away from Fort Vancouver, out into
the Oregon wilderness with only vague, half-formed plans, little beyond a
desire to escape the pain Rob had inflicted upon him. But now Jack reached
for the pure desire he saw burning there in Basil's eyes, leaving thoughts
of food or beaver skins or his old lover McGyre to fade along with the
unattended campfire.

* * *

     Time passed, though it seemed to have moved the wrong way. Jack found
himself standing on the wide steps of a great temple, built from cyclopean
blocks of stone. The carefully cut and fitted slabs of dark rock seemed too
big for mere humans to have quarried or moved, calling to mind the tales of
Biblical times when 'There were giants in the earth.'

     Similarly constructed buildings stood nearby. With the temple, they
defined a large open space or plaza. Beyond this clearing stood clumps of
primitive huts, looking fragile next to the stone monuments.

     All these had been erected in what seemed to be the midst of a
trackless jungle. A huge full moon dogged by unfamiliar stars hovered in
the tropical sky overhead, silvering the leaves and flowers of strange
plants whose fantastic blossoms seemed to nod knowingly at Jack with every
warm breeze. Jack dimly realized he was dreaming, but that realization did
not seem to effect how physically real everything felt to him as he climbed
the steps, passed through the massive stone portal and entered the temple.

     The vast crowd of people Jack found within were bathed in the light
of dozens of torches and gathered before a low dais supporting an odd
sort of stone monolith, its three tall sides covered with ornate and
incomprehensible symbols. The softly murmuring crowd appeared to be of
the same race as Jack's mother: short, coppery-skinned, dark haired and
eyed men and women, all clad alike in colorfully woven cotton breechclouts.
As he drew closer to them, Jack saw they were engaged in some sort of
ritual.

     Several men, securely bound with ropes, had been made to kneel before
the dais. Each was attended by a guard. Then a hush fell over the crowd as
the haunting sound of a conch trumpet echoed from somewhere deeper within
the temple. Shortly thereafter, a new figure appeared, a man of a race
unknown to Jack and obviously the master of that place. His strangely pale
skin tended to enhance his imperious aspect. Swiftly, he passed along the
row of prisoners, pausing briefly before each to stare oddly at them and
mutter a phrase or two in what Jack assumed was the language of the people
who watched in awed silence.

     When in the course of this performance the master of the temple
beckoned others to come forward and release a couple of the prisoners,
Jack realized that he was witnessing a trial of some sort. As soon as the
innocent had been parted from the guilty, he waited breathlessly to see
what the punishment for those who remained would be. The crowd roared as
it began.

     Jack was surprised to see that the judge was also the executioner in
that place. As the spectators began a strange, monotonous chanting, the
ruler of the temple suddenly sprang with inhuman ferocity upon the nearest
prisoner with all the lithe fury of a jungle animal. Indeed, his manner
suggested nothing less than that of a bloodthirsty beast, with only his
outward form to remind one of his humanity. To Jack's horror, he sank his
teeth - too abnormally long and sharp to have belonged to an ordinary
human - into the man's neck.

     In seconds his victim was dead, the paleness of the corpse's skin
showing plainly the manner of death. The lethal godling continued to kill,
draining the blood of the guilty men as the people chanted, falling into
an eerie sort of religious ecstasy that chilled one's spine. One word
reverberated throughout the vast stone temple, again and again. Even
Jack's lips were moved to repeat that word, that name, adding his voice
to the hundreds who adored their deadly god of justice with a booming,
heathen noise that arose from the brilliantly moonlit temple to the
unfamiliar stars above...

* * *

     "Vatha! Vatha!" Jack cried out.

     He opened his eyes to starlit darkness. A gibbous moon hung huge and
low on the very crests of the mountains to the east. Jack inhaled,
shuddering as he took in a deep breath of the chill night air.

     At once he felt Basil's arms tighten around him. After they had made
love, sharing themselves eagerly, completely and sweetly, a sated and weary
Jack had gratefully fallen asleep in Basil's embrace. Now he looked up into
his bedmate's eyes and saw them wide with concern.

     "What did you say?" Basil asked in a shocked whisper.

     Jack began to tell Basil about his dream. The look of intent attention
upon Basil's face became pervaded with awe and fear as Jack spoke, making
Jack wonder. He was about to get to the part where Vatha drank the blood
of the bound men when his eye wandered.

     As some listeners do, Basil's lips were slightly parted in
expectation as Jack told his story. It was enough to reveal his teeth,
and the fanglike canines. They were remarkably long and sharp, and so
white, like Basil's skin. In fact, Jack realized, they were just the same
as Vatha's teeth and skin...

     "My God!" Jack gasped in fear and began to struggle, attempting to
escape from the unknown that held him.

     He might as well have tried to free himself from the embrace of a
great constricting snake or a living iron statue. Basil's eyes held an
infinite sadness now, so heavy and compelling that once Jack looked into
them again he stopped trying to get away. Jack forced himself to become
calm again and once he had succeeded, Basil relaxed his grip and spoke.

     "I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to frighten you. Please believe me
when I say I mean you no harm. As much as it might pain me to do so, I'll
leave you, if that is what you want."

     "No, don't go... I... " Jack stammered, as the tender feelings that
had only begun to grow in him for Basil fought with the fear engendered by
the images he had seen, of Vatha's inhuman power and hunger, and the
frightening knowledge that Basil shared some part of that nature. "Tell
me please, what are you?"

     Basil sighed and began to declaim, in a low, deliberate voice.

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul,
freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars,
start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine!

     Jack just stared, unable to respond to Basil's articulate words.

     "Shakespeare. Hamlet. From the first act, as I recall," Basil smiled
wanly. "It just seemed appropriate."

     Jack had heard of Shakespeare. He had seen a book in the chief
factor's office at Fort Vancouver with that famous man's name on it. But
his scanty education had not exactly been steeped in the classics and the
Bard's name was all he knew of that great poet. That Jack could read and
write English at all was in itself an accomplishment that not many other
men of that time and place could match. Nevertheless, the poetic lines
were lost on him.

     "My story would take a long time to tell," Basil continued as he shot
a glance upward at the starry sky, "and I'll have to leave you at dawn."

     "Why?"

     "You'll understand if you listen to all of my story. Will you? Even
if it takes the rest of this night and the next?"

     "Then you don't intend to... ah... "

     "Kill you? Drink your blood? No."

     "Then why did you seek me out?"

     "I thought I made that clear earlier, Jack. I was attracted to you.
Your loneliness cried out to mine, and I hoped together we might find ways
to ease our pain."

     "You've been in love?"

     "Oh yes, and lost those I've loved as well, in ways that left me as
devastated as McGyre left you. Your misfortune mirrors mine, in a way. I
thought that might help forge a bond between us."

     "I already feel something for you, Basil, but if that feeling is to
grow, I must know you, know what you are. After seeing what I saw... it
was incredible!"

     "And words fail you. I know. What you saw was a vision from long ago.
I don't know how long ago it was, two or three thousand years, perhaps. I
can only guess, for I experienced it myself only once, and then under
conditions that weren't suitable for calm analysis of its mysteries.

     "Why you saw it, I can't explain. Perhaps we already share a deeper
connection, as they say those do who remember one another from previous
lifetimes. All I can tell you is what I've learned from others of my kind,
the few who have crossed my path during my long, unnatural life."

     "Who are 'your kind'?"

     "Every nation has myths about us and the common name we are grouped
under is 'vampire'. We are active at night, drinking the blood of the
living in order to survive. From the deaths of our victims we draw
unending life, an immortality bound inextricably to death. And we hide
from sunlight, for it can utterly destroy us."

     "Where can you go to escape the sun in this place?"

     "I have my ways. I've had a long time to perfect them."

     "How long?"

     "It's been about twelve hundred years since I was 'born to darkness',
as some of us so poetically put it."

     "But... you don't... "

     "Look that old?"

     "Yes."

     "When one becomes a vampire, he or she remains just as they were on
the night they were transformed. But before I can tell you of the fateful
night that changed me forever, I have to tell you something about the
mortal man I was and the life that I once led."

     Basil paused, collecting his thoughts. Jack sat up and pulled his
blanket closer around his bare shoulders, shifting into a more comfortable
position for listening to the tale the vampire proposed to tell. Basil
smiled at him apologetically.

     "I haven't told this story to anyone for a very long time," he
explained. "And more has happened since then. I'm just finding it a bit
difficult to begin."

     "Well," considered Jack, "do you have a last name?"

     "Ah yes. My name would be a good place to start, wouldn't it? My full
name is Basil Justin Anicius. I was born in the year 607 AD, as people
reckon time nowadays, the youngest son of a wealthy senatorial family of
old Roman stock, the Anicii, whose pedigree was studded with emperors and
consuls, senators and generals.

     "When the barbarian Ostrogoths established their kingdom in Italy
nearly two centuries before my birth, the head of my family at that time
decided to move his clan from the doomed province to the Imperial city of
Constantinople. They became part of the nobility of the new Rome that grew
in importance even as the old Rome waned. As a rich nobleman's son, I was
assured of all the things one needed to survive and thrive in that time
and place.

     "My education was a thorough and wide-ranging one. Though it was no
longer necessary, my siblings and I were taught Latin as well as Greek, so
we could read the old classics in their original forms. You must understand
that by this time, Greek had become the official language of the Roman
Empire. Indeed, most of the common people of my city thought of themselves
as Greeks.

     "You may note that I don't call my home 'the Eastern Roman Empire' or
'Byzantium' as modern historians do. This is because that, as far as my
peers and I in the ruling class were concerned, we were still Romans, even
though the original Rome was by this time a far-off ruin that the Vandals,
Goths and other barbarians had picked clean and its last Emperor deposed
over a century before my birth. Despite all that, we still considered
ourselves to be the heirs of the glory that was Rome and we proudly bore
her name.

     "Much to the pleasure of my father, I turned out to be the most
scholarly of his children, which might have foreordained me to a career
in the church had I been born in some later time or place. As it was, the
secular empire at that time still required capable men if it was to be
run properly and Constantinople, being its nexus, provided ample
opportunities. Besides, as my story goes on you will see that I was not
exactly cut out for the religious life.

     "Around the several palaces of our emperor, Heraclius, stood the
offices of the bureaucracy, hives of activity regulating our still
considerable empire, a realm stretching from the Danube to Egypt, and
from Libya to Syria. My father found a position for me in one of these
bureaus when I came of age. But I didn't settle down to a quiet life of
supervising a legion of paper shufflers. Constantinople was far too
exciting a place to lead such a mundane existence.

     "Constantinople. How can I make you understand the kind of place it
was, Jack? Do justice to its grandeur and its glory?

     "Most historians seem to want to dismiss my magnificent city as a sort
of decadent aberration, a rogue remnant of antiquity that didn't have the
good manners to vanish along with the rest of the 'ancient' world when its
time came, preventing the placing of a neat dividing line between one era
and the next. They act as if Constantinople's survival was an unforgivable
sin against the gods of history! Those pedants refuse to acknowledge the
greatness of my city.

     "Constantinople was a vibrant place, full of life. Every condition of
humanity might have been found in its crowded streets: monk and whore,
soldier and beggar, innkeeper and thief, men and women from Norway to
India and all points in between. And oh, so many merchants, so much
merchandise!

     "We seemed to be the depot of the world's trade, the point at which
all the eastern and western world came to meet and exchange their goods.
It was the most populous and wealthy city in the world, perhaps. It
certainly was the largest in Europe at the time and continued to be so
for centuries thereafter.

     "This great metropolis had everything anyone could imagine or want.
And I too found my pleasures there, pleasures frowned upon by the church
and the polite society I had been reared in. As you already know," Basil
smiled as he gave Jack's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, "I was a lover
of men and in Constantinople, as in every other time and place, those
like myself found ways to connect with their fellows.

     "Only from the Orthodox priesthood would you hear any disparagement of
our 'sins', but that was to be expected. Especially since a minor scandal
earlier in the reign of the Emperor Heraclius had been seized upon as an
excuse to purge the capital of priests who were like us. As usual in such
situations, it was a smoke screen: the real crime of many of those banished
for 'unnatural practices' was their support for unpopular religious tenets.
Fortunately the church's opinions on how people should spend their spare
time were, by and large, ignored by the vast majority of the hedonistic
inhabitants of Constantinople.

     "I quickly became an ardent supporter of the Greens, under whose color
it was well known that most man loving men met and socialized. I suppose
I'd better explain this more clearly, so bear with me: the old gladiatorial
blood-sports of classical Rome were no more, but spectacular shows and
contests were still held for the amusement of the male citizens - the right
of women to watch the games had been abolished - in the great Hippodrome,
Constantinople's answer to Rome's Coliseum. The various participants in the
games wore different colors so the crowd could tell them apart. It was only
a matter of time before the spectators began wearing the colors of their
favorite athletes.

     "There were several different factions, but the deepest rivalry
existed between the largest clubs: the Blues and the Greens. At the
Hippodrome, entire sections of its marble tiers would seem to be massive,
undulating wedges of green or blue, alternatively cheering or booing as
the contests went back and forth. It was not uncommon for full scale riots
to break out, especially after hard fought competitions. As a member of
the aristocracy though, such brawls were naturally beneath me. However,
my fellow nobles and I didn't hesitate to cheer our plebeian brothers on
when such fights occurred.

     "It would be anachronistic to call these organizations political
parties, but they did fulfill those roles in some ways. Wise emperors
used them to gauge public opinion on a variety of matters. And the clubs
had a considerable say in the way the Hippodrome was run and in the
appointing of the many officials needed to keep it operating smoothly.

     "By the time I was twenty-two, I was old in the ways of the world. I
knew the location of every boy brothel and Green-friendly wineshop and
tavern in the city. The best Green households with their nightly feasts
and novel entertainments were open to me and the clique of fashionable
young noblemen I associated with.

     "In short, I had arraigned my life so that my government job didn't
interfere with my pleasures, but not all of those pleasures were of the
fleshy variety. As I mentioned earlier, I had a scholarly bent that led
me into literary and philosophical circles as well. As a token of those
interests, it was customary to grow one's hair and beard long like the
philosophers of old, and I followed the tradition.

     "It was about that time that I first met the vampire Marcus at one
of the scholarly discussions sponsored by my learned friends, though of
course I didn't know his true nature then. I was told that he was a
wealthy philosopher who had but recently come to Constantinople from
Rhodes. His manly beauty attracted me at once. And, as I came to realize
the depth and scope of his knowledge of classical literature, my
admiration for him only increased.

     "Marcus appeared to be in his early forty's, brown haired and fully
bearded. His piercing green eyes seemed to have the power of looking right
through people. Marcus appeared to be tightly muscled and fit. I imagined
he must have been athletically inclined in his youth and continued to work
out.

     "I was gladdened when Marcus seemed to favor me with his attention,
posing questions that challenged my wits. Answering him correctly seemed a
test of some sort and I strove to pass it, hoping my reward would be a
night with him in his bed. But he soon made it clear that his interest in
me was that of a mentor, who sensed in me an intellect worth cultivating
for the pleasure of watching it grow and bloom.

     "I sighed much at this, but accepted his guidance on his terms. As
time passed he never ceased to find some new artifice to stimulate my mind
and challenge my preconceptions. Some months passed in this way before I
noticed that we only met at night. Discreet inquiries on my part failed to
locate any of our mutual acquaintances who had seen him in daylight.

     "But I thought this neither odd nor unnatural. People then didn't pay
any great heed to time, not having ways to measure it as exactly as we can
nowadays. Also, as it still is today, the wealthy could always afford to
live by whatever schedule that pleased them.

     "Sometimes several days passed when I didn't see the sun myself.
Between the boy brothels and my friends, the festive banquets and the hours
of nocturnal conversation with Marcus, it was a wonder I got any real work
done. When my father passed away and left me a small portion of our
family's riches for my own, Marcus advised me so wisely that, through
shrewd investments here and there, I no longer needed to work at all.

     "But I knew I had to retain my job because of the status it conferred
upon me as a government official, which reflected upon my family. With
Marcus' help, I managed to find and employ an intelligent, trustworthy
proxy to whom I could contract the job out to. Thus I freed myself from
the drudgery of work altogether and began to look forward to a life devoted
to a pleasant combination of hedonism and philosophy.

     "I ought to mention here that despite the wide range of literature I
was acquainted with, I'd come upon few writings that mentioned vampirism.
I was familiar with the various demonologies produced by the church, and
stories of the blood rites of primitive and barbaric peoples. But the
concept of immortal beings neither alive nor dead who sustained themselves
by drinking the blood of the living and had to hide from the light of day
was merely another strange and curious legend to me, one only ignorant and
superstitious people would ever believe in.

     "In time, our empire was troubled by new problems from an old enemy.
The Persians, after many years of peace, were showing signs of aggression
once more. Preparations against them were begun. The size of our army was
swelled by a general conscription, camps formed outside the city walls and
soldiers began to be a common sight on the streets of Constantinople. In
the meantime, embassies and ambassadors came and went, trying to keep the
issue from coming to blows.

     "From this time, Marcus, who had found little to say about politics
in general before, began to voice worries to me about the potential for
serious trouble arising from this impending conflict between empires. I
for my part refused to take his warnings seriously. The possibility that
effete Persians could defeat the legions of Rome on the field of battle
was a notion repugnant to my patriotic mind.

     "As I later learned, from history and from experience, such concepts
were a sort of 'blind spot' that afflicted all European thought: the notion
that Easterners, and indeed, all non-Westerners, were inferior and had to
be looked after, like children. It was as if Western society had deluded
itself into thinking it was the font of all wisdom and its leaders had
decided that the rest of humanity had to be forced to drink from it for
their own good, at swordpoint at first, coercing them later with guns.

     "Soon thereafter, and for the first time, Marcus invited me to visit
his home. I was surprised and delighted, for he'd brought me books from his
library from time to time, allowing me to peruse rare texts that I'd never
seen outside of the Imperial archives. To say I was looking forward to his
invitation was an understatement.

     "The home Marcus had purchased for himself was an old estate, lost
amid a orchard of mature olive trees planted hard by the less frequented
northernmost quarter of the city, in the very shadow of the massive stone
fortifications named for the emperor Theodosius. The place was rendered
quite private by high brick walls and a sturdy iron gate. To judge by the
reactions of his small staff of servants when we arrived, long after
sunset, of course, one would think I was the first guest they had ever
been asked by Marcus to entertain, which I only later learned was indeed
the case.

     "He gave me a tour of the villa, which had been built of stone
overlaid with fine marble. It was constructed in the classical Roman
manner, two stories of rectangular rooms grouped around a rectangular
courtyard. Later, Marcus surprised all present by commanding his
household to consider me a second master in that place and to admit me
at any time of the day or night, which apparently was a great concession
to me, judging by the stunned expressions of the servants.

     "Sensing the gravity of the privilege Marcus had granted me, I never
abused it, but the times when I did enjoy the comforts of his home were
memorable. There were five servants, all lovers of men, a steward and four
boys, luscious and eager to please their beloved master by pleasing me. The
steward, a good looking native of Alexandria named Philip, had an enviable
job, reigning over this sweet crew of youngsters and seemed more pleased
than otherwise to share them with me.

     "Many a time when I visited, and the days were warm and bright, we
would take our meals beside a marble edged pool shaded by olive trees and
the boys would beg to bathe me in it, leading more often than not to
orgiastic exercises in the sunshine. Philip too would join in, once he
realized I appreciated mature men as well as boys." Basil paused to sigh
at the pleasant memory. "Ah, how I enjoyed myself there! It was, as a poet
once said:

...a private, golden world!
A place most meet,
and peaceful to fleet
time carelessly away in...

     "The library Marcus had collected in his home was another wonder,
being everything I'd imagined it to be. In it I found rare books on almost
every subject, lovingly kept in order by Philip whose family I learned had
been associated with the famous library of his native city. Once or twice
I became so engrossed in some manuscript that I never noticed the sunset
and then there would be Marcus, ready to discuss the subject of my study
with me. Needless to say, I never saw him whenever I visited during the
daylight hours.

     "Two years passed thus, one of the most contented periods in my life
I'd ever known up until then. My social life continued to revolve around
banquets given by my Green friends and Marcus' home became a refuge
whenever I felt the need for peace and quiet. I continued to live in my
family's palace, occupying a remote suite of rooms that allowed me minimal
contact with my eldest brother, Arcadius.

     "In my opinion, he'd come to take his duties as head of the family a
little too seriously. Whereas my father had been proud of my intellectual
prowess, my brother had little use for philosophers. He dismissed them as
dreamers who wasted their time 'constantly searching in dark rooms for
black cats that weren't there', in his words.

     "Also, I'm afraid Arcadius was more than a little embarrassed by the
gay, hedonistic lifestyle my Green friends and I indulged in. But we had
both been too genteelly raised to waste time fighting over such a personal
subject. By this point in our lives, we'd settled into a mutually
respectful avoidance of one another.

     "Then the evening came that altered my life forever. Like many before
it, I was engaged in preparing to attend a banquet at a friend's home and
was about to take my leave when I heard a voice calling my name. At first I
thought it was one of the palace servants and began to respond to whomever
it was. But before I could speak, the voice came to me again.

     "'Basil, friend of Marcus... ' it seemed to croon in my ear.

     "'Hello?' I asked thin air, turning around and seeing no one.

     "'Tell Marcus we demand to see him.'

     "'Where are you? Who are you? Why do you want to see him?'

     "'We await him in the church of St. Anne,' the voice continued,
ignoring my questions. 'He will regret it immensely if he does not come
to us tonight... '

     "I gasped as dark images suddenly flooded into my mind. Horrible
visions of Marcus' servants being slain and his villa despoiled by black
robed and hooded figures who displayed superhuman strength and speed. And
I too was threatened with a similar fate, but this disembodied voice also
offered a cryptic invitation.

     "'Turn, Basil! Turn from your life of wasteful reveling and pointless
luxury! Turn and you can join us, the eternal Children of the Fallen Ones,
who exist to punish evildoers in the One God's name!'

     "And with that, the eerie communication ended. I immediately turned
and dug into a nearby chest, retrieving and buckling on a spatha, a Roman
legionnaire's sword. It was an heirloom that had belonged to a distant
ancestor.

     "Family lore said he'd carried it in the battle of Chalons against the
Huns long ago, as an officer in Rome's legions, under the command of the
legendary general, Aetius. The weapon might have been an antique, but it
was still capable of dealing out death and I gripped the hilt confidently.
My father had seen to it that the education of his sons included knowing
how to defend themselves.

     "I hired a quartet of burly torchbearers against trouble and went
directly to Marcus' villa, but we hadn't even come within sight of the
entrance when Marcus appeared on the road, looking quite worried. Producing
a lavish amount of gold, he quickly paid off my bodyguards and dismissed
them before rushing me along to the gate. Once we were inside, Philip
barred it, looking as concerned as his master. I noticed then that both of
them were also armed with swords.

     "'Get inside the house! Hurry!'

     "'Marcus, what's happened? I came to warn you... ' I managed to gasp
out as he fairly dragged me into his villa. I caught a pitiful glimpse of
his boy servants huddled together in a corner, looking terrified.

     "'I know already,' Marcus replied. 'They knew I would know as soon as
they contacted you.'

     "'But how... '

     "I must have looked as bewildered as I felt, for he went on quickly,
cutting me off.

     "'Listen to me and trust me, Basil. Stay here and under no conditions
leave my home before sunrise. If anyone attempts to force their way in, use
those weapons. Don't waste time stabbing, but try to cut off the head of
anyone who attacks you. It's the only way to stop those who threatened
you... '

     "'You mean the Children of the Fallen Ones?' I interrupted.

     "'Yes.'

     "'Who are these people?'

     "'There's no time for explanations now, Basil,' Marcus frowned. 'I'll
return as soon as I can.'

     "'But... '

     "It was no use to speak. Marcus had already vanished before my eyes. I
gasped and muttered a prayer, wondering if I had become the victim of some
sort of black magic.

     "However, I wasn't the sort of person to let a friend face an enemy
alone. To the horror of everyone present I informed them of my intention of
following Marcus. Philip pleaded and the boys wept even harder, but I was
adamant.

     "As Philip absolutely refused to leave the villa to unlock the gate
for me, I ended up clambering over the wall. As quickly as I could I made
my way to St. Anne's. It wasn't a large church, so I was a little surprised
to see its chapel doors open so late at night. I entered the candlelit
sanctuary, looking for someone to question.

     "A priest was kneeling at the altar in an attitude of prayer. I was
loath to disturb his worship but my mission was urgent and I tried to
approach in a noisy manner, to rouse him. But he continued in his silent
pose.

     "Annoyed at being ignored by him, my aristocratic impatience got the
better of me. I placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly as I
demanded his attention. I never got it. As soon as I released him, the
priest fell backwards to lie at my feet and I saw he was dead.

     "The man's lolling head revealed a terrible wound on his throat, that
looked like the bite mark of some ravenous animal unknown to me. I watched
transfixed with horror as a thin stream of blood ran from the corpse to
streak the face of Christ depicted on the church's mosaic floor.
Irreligious as I was, I was momentarily frozen as I beheld the terrible
sight of our Savior's placid expression looking up at me from beneath that
gory desecration.

     "Before I had a chance to recover from the shock of what I was seeing,
two figures dressed in black robes appeared as if from nowhere and seized
me. Their strength was far superior to mine and despite my violent
struggles against them I was lifted and swiftly carried like a helpless
child into the recesses of the church and then down into its crypt. There
must have been an entrance down there leading to a larger system of
catacombs, for it seemed to me that we traveled far beyond anything
allowed by the dimensions of the upper part of the church of St. Anne.

     "At last they threw me down in a torchlit chamber before another of
their kind. He was seated on an ornate throne of variegated wood, brought
from God knows where and totally out of place amid the old tombs and
niches. Vague movements in the darkness beyond the range of the torchlight
told me there were others in that place, waiting and watching. The seated
one was also hooded and robed completely in black, obscuring his features.

     "All that I could see clearly of him in the torchlight were his hands
and a little of his face, but that was quite enough. They were a revolting
sight to behold. The man's skin had been terribly scarred by a fire, or so
it seemed. The flesh was raw and red in blistered patches. I wondered at
once what had happened to him and an unexpected response buzzed curiously
in my head.

     "'Oh, there was a time when I looked far worse than this.'

     "He hadn't spoken aloud and I wondered as his words sounded within my
mind, like an itch beneath my skull that couldn't be scratched. I was sure
that his was the voice that had spoken to me earlier. And like then, mental
pictures accompanied his telepathy, showing me something similar to what
you must have seen in your dream, Jack.

     "I saw the image of a strangely garbed man. His race was unfamiliar. I
had never seen his like before.

     "He was the master of a great temple built of massive stone blocks,
set in the midst of some sweltering tropical wilderness. There, a
copper-skinned tribe came by night to pray and worship at his feet. He was
their living god, immune to death, the one who had dwelt amongst them for
a hundred generations of men and more, from a time before they'd learned
to keep any written records.

     "He was also their judge. I witnessed the criminals brought before him
and their guilt was exposed by his ability to read minds. There was only
one punishment for wrongdoers: they died as he drank their blood in the
presence of the adoring crowds who chanted his name in a heathen ecstasy
until it echoed throughout the nightdark jungle!"

     "Vatha!" exclaimed Jack.

     "Yes, Vatha," Basil confirmed, nodding. "The same ancient being you
saw in your dream earlier."

     "What did he want?"

     "I'll tell you. At that point, there was a pause in this stream of
vivid mental imagery Vatha was sending me. For a split second I was back
in the catacombs and again I sensed movement in the darkness. At least two
of the unseen watchers disappeared, withdrawing abruptly into deeper
shadow, but I had no leisure to wonder what this meant, for Vatha's mind
overwhelmed mine again as he continued his wordless tale.

     "Abruptly I saw him in his sanctum at some later date, luxuriating in
the worship of his people. In the midst of that rite, Vatha heard a mental
call that astonished him. He had been alone in that place for centuries,
had not seen another of his kind in an even longer time, but now, another
vampire was calling to him!

     "He moved to the roof of the temple in a heartbeat, seeming to vanish
from amid his adoring worshippers. Vatha was all attention, straining every
sense to catch the call again. He had the impression that he was not the
only one who was listening so intently, that others of his kind throughout
the entire world had heard the same thing simultaneously and were also
searching for the one whose call had come to them wherever they happened to
be, even to those in their places of safety wherever the sun shone.

     "The signal they all awaited began with an awful suddenness. It
carried pain and death to those whose curiosity had been attracted by it.
Vatha howled in agony as his body burst into flame. He plummeted back into
the temple like a falling star amid his shocked followers, burning as
though he were a bundle of dry sticks in a furnace. He shriveled into a
blackened, withered thing that scarcely had the strength to move or drink
the blood he needed to heal himself.

     "But Vatha's people remained loyal and continued to bring victims to
him. Over the course of half a millennium the blood he imbibed healed
Vatha slowly, until he finally became strong enough to go forth on his
own. Vatha was determined to find the reason why this awful thing had
happened to him and, as he discovered later, to all his kind who'd opened
their minds to that deadly call, destroying all but the oldest among them.

     "But in the more than six hundred years that had passed since this
catastrophe, Vatha had learned little besides vague stories told by
vampires much younger than himself. They spoke of a rogue vampire who had
somehow tapped into the source of all vampires' power, with deadly
results. The few survivors of that holocaust searched for him in vain,
for the rouge vanished without a trace, and none knew where he hid from
the certain vengeance of his fellow night-creatures.

     "'I have learned the history of your friend Marcus,' Vatha's thoughts
hissed in my mind as the images faded and I found myself back in the
catacomb. 'When he was a mortal, he was the slave of this traitorous
vampire, and Marcus will tell me what he knows about his former master's
secrets.'

     "'Why?' I asked as Vatha pulled back his hood, revealing a face that
could easily provoke nightmares.

     "'Because I believe that this rogue can heal me. If he knows the
source from whence all vampires' powers come, he can use its magic to make
me whole again.'

     "'What is this 'source' you speak of?'

     "'None but the rogue knows. And Marcus will help me find him.' Vatha
suddenly snorted in contempt. 'To think that an elder one like myself must
deal with mere fledglings in order to gain my ends! And Marcus! He
foolishly wastes his divine power, pretending to be mortal and consorting
with intellectuals and philosophers, who question endlessly and accomplish
nothing!'

     "'He and I, all of our kind, we were meant to be the judges of mortal
men. I am an elder, but I know of our beginning only through legends told
me by my maker, long ago. It is said angels abandoned heaven to live on
earth and had giant children by the daughters of men, to whom they taught
the forbidden wisdom of God. The activities of these fallen ones were but
one of the things that provoked the flood.'

     "'Though all wicked mortals were washed away in the flood, no amount
of water could kill an angel. The fallen ones survived, and seeing this,
God gave them a choice: death or eternal service to Him. Not wishing to
die, they agreed and God cast them into a deep sleep, which lasted until
the fall of the Tower of Babel.'

     "'Not satisfied with scattering mankind and confusing their tongues,
God in His vengeance awakened the survivors who found themselves
transformed during their long slumber into vampires. God gave them the
ability to read the minds of mortals, to tell the innocent from the guilty
and punish those wrongdoers by taking their corrupt blood to slake the
vampires' ceaseless thirst and transform it into the superhuman strength
and immortality they required to carry out the sacred charge He gave them.
Since then, we, the Children of the Fallen Ones, have been the scourge and
punishers of all those who do evil.'

     "'But this rogue, who it is said may be one of the fallen ones, has
learned some secret that threatens to destroy all vampires, everywhere. He
must be found and killed, lest God's will be undone and our sacred mission
on earth be ended.' Vatha went on, with all the ardor of someone who
believes utterly in their purpose. 'You too will join us in this holy work,
Basil Anicius, become another immortal dark angel of retribution to
chastise this corrupt and evil world, or you will die to pay for your own
sins, here, tonight!'

     "Swiftly, so swiftly that I didn't have time to be startled, or for
Vatha's revelation that my friend Marcus was a vampire to sink in, Vatha
seized me, pulled me to him and bit into my neck. I was paralyzed at once
as the shock of his fangs entering my throat seemed to thunder through the
fibers of my entire body. And every bit of myself seemed irresistibly drawn
towards the wound along with my blood, through it, and into Vatha.

     "Simultaneously I heard screams as torches were snatched and thrown
with uncanny accuracy, causing the robes of the two vampires who had
brought me there to burst into flame. Vatha lifted his head and looked
daggers at Marcus, who emerged from the shadows and swiftly decapitated
the hapless pair while they were distracted by their burning clothes. Then
he stopped and returned Vatha's stare. I had no doubt they were locked in
a telepathic exchange I couldn't hear.

     "Neither vampire seemed concerned with Vatha's followers. I wondered
that no others appeared to fight Marcus. We three seemed suddenly to be
alone in the dank chamber.

     "In the meantime, once Vatha withdrew his fangs from me, I regained
some control over myself. I could feel how weak I'd become and with the
blood still oozing from the gash in my throat I knew I didn't have much
time to act. Thanks to his being distracted by Marcus, I was able to
surprise the ancient vampire.

     "I managed to draw my weapon and drive it as hard as I could through
Vatha's chest. I heard and felt the spatha's sharp point penetrate through
the back of the ornate chair the ancient vampire sat in, splintering the
wood and pinning Vatha to it like a butterfly on a collector's board. He
released me and I rolled to the floor at his feet.

     "At first I was convinced that I'd wounded Vatha mortally. I tried to
get up but my weakness prevented it. Then Vatha's hellish laughter suddenly
filled the darkness of the catacombs, permeating it like the stench of a
mouldering corpse.

     "'I will kill you with your own sword, you foolish mortal,' the
ancient vampire vowed, blood spilling from his mouth as he gripped the
hilt of the spatha with both hands, preparing to free it.

     "But it was Marcus' turn to act while Vatha was engrossed with me. His
sword was already out and his vampire abilities allowed him to move with a
supernatural speed, striking while Vatha was stuck to his throne, unable to
avoid the blow that was aimed at him. All I saw was a blur as Marcus
attacked.

     "With astonishing suddenness, the edge of Marcus' sword was imbedded
in the back of the high throne, having first passed through Vatha's neck.
The ancient vampire's expression went blank just before his head tottered
and fell, rolling forward to strike the floor with a sickening, hollow
crack, drenching me with a spray of his blood. In the process I
accidentally received a mouthful of it.

     "The hot, thick fluid shocked and seared my tongue. The taste was
indescribable, at once revolting and intoxicating. In order to take a
breath I had to swallow it.

     "At once I could feel some mysterious force spreading itself
inexorably throughout my weakened body, pounding through my veins and
restoring me. I looked at Vatha's headless body and realized that I could
hear the heart beating within it. The organ was still alive and seemed to
call to me in some unknown and inexplicable manner. Somehow I found the
strength to rise up and throw myself onto the still bleeding corpse.

     "Unable to stop myself, driven by some force that had utterly
possessed me, I greedily drank the blood that continued to well up and
spill from the stump of Vatha's severed neck. And all the while I felt
my body changing, becoming different and stronger. My mind too was
effected and though I fed in a daze of bloodlust, some part of my
conscious mind was strangely detached and observant, memorizing
everything that was happening.

     "There was so much blood in Vatha's body! But when the source I drank
from finally failed, I freed my sword and used it to hack the still beating
heart from his body. I sucked upon the organ like some ghastly crimson
fruit until it was bloodless and still, and the ancient being called Vatha
finally died, after thousands of years of unnatural life."

     Basil paused. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but he found he could
not find the words to express what he felt then. Basil nodded
sympathetically at him and went on.

     "I licked the blood from my hands and squeezed out what had soaked
into my fouled beard, but my newborn thirst for blood still churned
relentlessly within me. Turning away from Vatha's mutilated corpse in a
daze of thirst, I saw Marcus. He had watched me drink with concern in his
eyes, but had not interfered. For he knew I'd been dying and that Vatha's
blood was my only chance for survival.

     "He understood what I did not, that my transformation from mortal to
vampire had begun and that the hunger for blood had started to burn in me,
as it does in all our kind. But there was no one left in that place whom I
could have used to slake my newborn thirst. Then his thoughts flooded my
mind.

     "The gift of mindreading was mine now and I saw in Marcus' mind what
he'd done. How he'd closed his mind to Vatha and his small following, a
trick he'd learned long ago to prevent other vampires from eavesdropping
on his thoughts. Thus he'd been able to kill Vatha's minions, none of whom
were as old or powerful as he, hunting them down one by one in the dank
catacombs with supernatural speed while Vatha had been diverted by my
capture.

     "'Marcus,' I managed, stumbling towards him.

     "Marcus caught me in his arms. My thirst was almost unbearable and I
looked hungrily at my friend's throat, hardly able to resist the impulse to
lunge and bite and drink. Marcus grabbed my jaw and forced me to look into
his gleaming eyes. Had I still been mortal, my neck would have been broken
by the force he used.

     "'Sleep,' he commanded.

     "At his word reality abruptly faded away to black. For an unknown
length of time I was looking at nothing, feeling nothing. Then tiny lights
appeared in the darkness and a delightful coolness rustled under my
fingers and limbs.

     "I continued to look until I recognized the stars. I sat up. I saw I
had been lying in a patch of longish grass, wet with dew.

     "'How do you feel?' a familiar voice spoke from the surrounding
darkness.

     "It was a good question, and a hard one to answer. As I stood and
looked around myself, I wondered at how my senses had changed. Despite
the darkness, I could see we were in a private park. An ornamental fountain
spewed merrily nearby and on an impulse, I reached out and let the water
flow over my hands. The sensations evoked by that simple gesture were
another revelation of how much my nature had changed. I felt... more, so
much more. I'm sorry Jack, but it's hard to describe to a mortal."

     "Don't worry about it. What happened next?"

     "Marcus touched my shoulder. I shook off the fascination of everything
my newly heightened senses were showing me. I turned to him.

     "'Where are we?'

     "'An isolated part of the Imperial gardens. I carried you here. How do
you feel now?'

     "'I think I'm alright,' I said as the memories of what had happened to
me came back in a rush. 'But I'm still... '

     "'Thirsty,' Marcus finished gravely.

     "'Yes, but why? I drank so much from Vatha. And then I wanted to drink
from you... oh, Marcus, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but... '

     "'I know, Basil. Don't worry. If you drink again tonight, your thirst
should abate. When I was newly made, I had to drink every night. It was a
long time before I could go without blood for an entire night.'

     "'How old are you?'

     "'I was born during the reign of the divine Augustus Caesar.' Marcus
replied, speaking in the pure, classical and almost forgotten Latin of an
earlier time, over half a millennia before. He smiled, seeming to enjoy the
look of shock on my face.

     "'Was Vatha right?' I managed then. 'Do you know this rogue and his
secrets? Is he a fallen angel, cursed by God to be a vampire? And what is
this 'source' Vatha spoke of?'

     "'I knew him, yes, but I know nothing of his secrets!' Marcus said
emphatically. 'And you must try to forget about that mystery. Don't speak
of it or think on it. That was what drew Vatha here: my unguarded musings
about dangerous legends I've heard. And he isn't the only vampire in the
world who foolishly seeks that which is better left alone and forgotten.'

     "'You mean the 'source'? Could it be the power of God Himself? If
this rogue was a fallen angel, he would know the secrets of heaven... '

     "'Forget all that, Basil. If you want to live at least a semblance of
a normal life, keep what you know buried deep. I'll teach you what I know,
how to guard your thoughts against other vampires' probing minds.'

     "'But I have so many questions. Are we the inheritors of angelic
powers and agents of God?'

     "'Those are legends that I personally doubt. However, I promise I'll
tell you what I know later, when we are safe. But for now... '

     "Marcus' voice trailed off. I concentrated, trying to see into his
mind again, to learn what he knew, but he'd closed himself off to me.
Still, I could feel the power of his mind at work, like a barely tangible
physical thing, whirling around us in the dark air, casting about,
searching for something.

     "'Good,' he murmured, half to himself.

     "'What?'

     "'A pair of murderers, not far away.'

     "'Murderers?!'

     "'I take only the blood of the evildoer, or those who are dying or
will not be missed, and you must do the same from now on. Only in this
way can we exist among mortals, anonymous, but safe.'

     "'We can drink the blood of people who are dying of disease?'

     "'Disease and old age can no longer touch you, Basil. You will stay as
you are right now for as long as your immortal life lasts. And how long it
will last is entirely up to you. If you follow my advice, you may live as
long as I have, or longer. Wait here.'

     "Before I could object, Marcus was gone. But now, despite the amazing
speed he demonstrated, my eyes had the power to follow his movements
easily. I watched as he raced across the carefully manicured lawns of the
imperial park and leapt over a high brick wall effortlessly.

     "Then I sensed the thoughts of the criminals Marcus was hunting. I saw
all their darkest secrets in a moment. They were thieves and murderers many
times over, hardened against pity for their victims, old in their craft.
That night saw the end of their criminal careers.

     "I found I could see as if through their eyes. Marcus descended on the
pair like the angel of death himself. He rendered one unconscious before he
took the other, draining his blood in less than a minute.

     "Soon after that I felt the criminal's terrified mind fade out and
die. It was a curious sensation, to be sure. And despite the man's guilt,
I was unsure if he deserved to leave life in the grip of such overwhelming
fear.

     "Some books held that it was in such ways that unhappy and earthbound
ghosts were born. For a terrible moment, I contemplated with horror the
crowds of restless spirits that must follow after Marcus, his many victims,
clamoring for vengeance. Such a spectral crew might ultimately attend me as
well someday, I thought uneasily. Marcus quickly returned to me, carrying
the second, still living criminal.

     "Ripping the man's shirt away, Marcus exposed a muscular torso that
would have once inspired lustful thoughts in me. But now all my attention
was on the criminal's neck. I looked at the gently pulsing arteries under
his skin and felt the hunger in me rise, like a living thing, like some
bestial predator that salivates at the sight of raw meat. My guide into
this dark semblance of life I now lived held the malefactor towards me
and spoke.

     "'I heard your thoughts, Basil. Don't worry about ghosts. Either they
don't exist or they have no power to affect us in any way. I myself have
never seen one.' Marcus informed me. 'He's unconscious. Go ahead and
drink.'

     "Despite my burning thirst, I lowered myself gingerly on the man.
Clumsily I clamped my newborn fangs down on the throbbing jugular and felt
again the rush of hot, thick blood flowing into me. But this was not the
transcendental experience that I'd felt while drinking Vatha's ancient
ichor. It was a pale reflection, like the difference between drinking wine
and water. This was simply feeding, giving in to a need that could not be
denied.

     "Yet I became lost in it. I was barely conscious of time passing.
Unexpectedly, Marcus spoke, pulling my attention away from what I was
doing.

     "'Can you hear his heartbeat slowing, flagging?'

     "'Yes,' I responded mentally, unwilling to release my victim.

     "'He's about to die,' Marcus explained. 'Don't drink from your victims
after they die. Do you understand?'

     "'Yes.'

     "I stopped sucking on the wound I had made and allowed the last few
feeble heartbeats to push a trickle of blood into my mouth. As the man's
heart shuddered to a stop, I was suddenly and unexpectedly possessed by
tender feelings for him. Marcus patted my shoulder.

     "'I too feel pity for my victims. So I do not take killing lightly,
though it is something I must do to survive. How do you feel?'

     "'Full. Satisfied, I think.'

     "'Good. Now we have to get rid of the bodies. That's another rule, by
the way. Never leave your victims' bodies where they can be easily found.
It attracts attention and we don't want that.'

     "'Yes, I understand.'

     "'Here,' Marcus said, unsheathing his sword, 'let me show you another
trick. Sometimes I cannot hide the body for some reason, lack of time or
whatever, so I do this.'

     "He cut his wrist. Even though I'd just fed, the sight of his blood
running almost made me lose my composure. But I held myself in check and
Marcus nodded at me in approval.

     "Marcus allowed his blood to drip onto the wound I'd made on the
thief's neck. As if by magic, the torn flesh mended before my eyes. In
seconds you couldn't tell that I'd bit him and the gash in Marcus' arm
closed just as swiftly.

     "'You see? No one can tell how he died now.'

     "'Yes.'

     "'Any wounds you suffer will heal as mine did, quickly and without
scars. And if an arm or leg is severed, all you have to do is hold the
limb to the spot it was cut from and the pieces will join again and
function perfectly. Your head however is another matter. Lose it, and you
will die, just as Vatha did,' Marcus explained as he resheathed his sword.
'Now, pick up the corpse and come with me.'

     "Carrying the thief's body, I followed Marcus as we returned to where
he'd left my victim's companion. I was surprised by the extent of my new
strength and agility, how easily and quickly and silently I could move now,
over walls and through alleyways, even while carrying the weight of a man.
Returning to the catacombs below St. Anne's, we placed the bodies inside
old tombs, as Marcus had done with Vatha and his followers while I slept.
I chose a particularly ornate grave to inter my first victim in, burying
my own mortality there as well as I came to realize everything had changed
for me. Marcus patted my shoulder reassuringly as I turned to him.

     "'Now we must return to my home. Philip and the boys shouldn't be left
in suspense about us.'

     "I agreed and we made our way back easily through the dark and
deserted streets. No shadow was black enough to hide anything from our
eyes. We didn't need to speak as we went back to Marcus' villa. Our minds
were open to one another and Marcus answered my many questions as soon as
I thought of them. He promised to teach me all he knew, so that I would be
able to survive in my new life.

     "Of the fallen ones, he knew little beyond the legend Vatha had told
me. He comfirmed that he had been a slave to another vampire, long ago, who
needed mortals to see after her villa and estates. She had a companion, the
'rogue' Vatha had spoken of. Though he appeared to be human to the casual
observer, Marcus was sure he was not.

     "'It was his eyes that gave him away,' Marcus explained. I saw those
eyes through Marcus' memories and shuddered at their alien appearence.

     "As soon as we reached his home, Marcus saw to calming his servants.
Their minds were open to me as well and it was fascinating to see myself
through their eyes. My overall physical appearance had changed subtly: the
paleness of my skin, the way the marks of age and debauchery had been
smoothed from my face, announced the transformation Vatha's ancient blood
had wrought in me.

     "So the servants weren't at all surprised when Marcus told them I'd
be living there with them from now on. We'd already agreed on that point
during our return to Marcus' villa. It would've been out of the question
for me to return to my family's palace now.

     "As dawn approached, Marcus took me into an interior room of his
villa and down a twisting, light-baffling flight of stairs that led to
the crypt where he passed his days. I found I could move the massive
stone that blocked the way to his refuge with ease, so strong had I
become. While Marcus replaced the stone, sealing us safely beyond the
reach of curious - or hostile - mortals, I looked around.

     "As I said before, darkness no longer mattered to my eyes. I could
see everything in the crypt without light. A number of strongboxes were
stacked at one end of the room, which I already knew contained Marcus'
accumulated wealth, the means with which to buy safety and seclusion from
the mortal world. I saw tiny spiders moving in the spaces between the
boxes and in the corners, spinning fruitless webs.

     "On the opposite side of the crypt was a wide and comfortable bed. We
undressed and fell eagerly into it, embracing and striving to touch at all
points. Though I had dreamed of making love to Marcus, the actual act,
when it happened, paled in comparison to the ecstasy I felt later when, by
mutual consent, our lips fell to one another's throats and we fed on each
other. I was lost in the exchange, my blood flowing into him, his blood
flowing into me, mixing and mingling, bringing us closer than I ever
thought it possible for two beings to become.

     "Then a sudden physical weakness washed over me. I pulled away from
Marcus in alarm, but his whispered words in the darkness calmed me. As I
listened, my senses still alert, my body relaxed and fell into a strange,
vague lassitude.

     "'The sun has just risen, my friend,' he cooed. 'Even here, shut away
from its light, we can feel its presence, and our bodies will be numb and
sluggish as long as it shines on the world outside. Rest in my arms now,
Basil, and when the sun sets, a new night will be waiting for us... '

     "Thus began my new life, or imitation thereof. As time passed I
learned the extent of my powers, more advanced than most fledglings
because of the ancient blood I had imbibed from Vatha. Marcus was as
strong as half a millennium could make a vampire. Between the two of us,
we felt well able to defend ourselves if any other ancient like Vatha
appeared again to trouble us."

     "Wait," Jack asked. "What about your family?"

     "All they knew was that I had moved out of their palace, Jack. My
brother Arcadius in particular was glad to be rid of me, and the move
made it easier for me to keep up the pretense of being alive in order to
continue my employment with the imperial bureaucracy and thereby do my
part in the upholding of my family's social prominence."

     "So they had no idea what had happened to you?"

     "No, and it was better that way. I no longer went to formal banquets
of course, but familiarized myself with the worse parts of the city, the
lowest dens of crime where evildoers gathered. In those places I was able
to hunt for the blood I needed with a clear conscience, choosing victims
whose guilty thoughts betrayed crimes deserving of death."

     "So you ended up doing as Vatha had," murmured Jack.

     "And Marcus, yes, but he and I never went around pretending to be
angels or gods or claiming to be the agents of any particular god, acting
in the interests of 'divine justice'. It was merely the easiest way to get
the blood we needed without attracting undue attention. Marcus and I
continued to mingle with mortals, attending lectures on philosophy and
encouraging any students we met who appeared promising. We seemed to the
world to be merely two wealthy gentlemen interested in the promotion of
education.

     "Our lives were rich and full of diversion. But one of those
diversions we indulged in ended up giving us both quite a scare. It
happened only a couple of months after Vatha's death, when we encountered
another ancient vampire in Constantinople.

     "We were taken by surprise because of our overconfidence. It was not
until after this event that we realized we had been very lucky to overcome
Vatha as easily as we had and that we could be tricked as easily as he had
been. We had gone to see a new church that the whole city seemed to be
talking about. The artwork that decorated it was said to be like nothing
ever seen before.

     "It was called the basilica of St. Matthew, and our expectations were
not disappointed. The artwork we saw there was amazing. In fact, it was
centuries ahead of its time with its use of perspective, so amazingly
different to us and the rest of the public, who were used to seeing only
the flat technique of the time. Nothing like it would be seen by the world
again until the Italian Renaissance, nearly eight hundred years later.

     "But like everyone else, Marcus and I were surprised and delighted by
the paintings. We especially appreciated the subtle pains the clever artist
had taken so that his works would appear more natural by candlelight than
daylight. You must understand that our churches then had no great windows
and their interiors were always gloomy and torchlit. As we were admiring
the art, a feminine voice whispered to our minds.

     "'The artwork is marvelous, is it not?'

     "We looked and saw a woman standing at the opposite end of the church,
watching us intently. Her pale face, like some exotic nocturnal orchid,
seemed to glow in the semidarkness. We recognized her as another vampire
at once, but her mind was closed against our probing thoughts. Marcus
frowned and sent his questions silently at her.

     "'What do you mean?'

     "'But of course, you couldn't know,' she answered gently. 'Your old
master painted these pictures.'

     "From Marcus' startled mind I caught a cavalcade of images from a
story he had already told me, of his former life as a mortal slave some
six hundred years earlier. Then he had been the trusted overseer of a
large estate in Gaul owned by two vampires, whose names he kept from me
for my own safety, lest my unguarded thoughts of them be picked up by
other vampires. I saw the woman who had made him immortal against the
wishes of her companion, the non-human rogue whom Vatha had been seeking.
And now another vampire who apparently knew them both was standing only
a few paces away, eyeing us calmly from the opposite side of St. Matthew's.

     "'My old master... ' Marcus murmured distractedly.

     "'But,' I responded automatically, 'wasn't he the one who... '

     "'Yes,' the woman's voice sounded in both our minds, cutting me off.
'Come outside and speak with me, Marcus. And bring your knowledgeable
fledgling with you.'

     "'Be careful,' Marcus warned me. 'I sense that she is very old, like
Vatha was. She may be more powerful than the two of us combined. Keep your
mind closed as I taught you and only speak aloud.'

     "'Yes, but if she's an ancient one, like Vatha, why isn't she scarred
the same as he was?'

     "'I don't know. Our powers do grow stronger as we age. Perhaps she is
so old that fire cannot harm her. At any rate, follow my lead, and don't
provoke her.'

     "I agreed. We followed her from the church and into the street.
Because of the lateness of the hour, there were few mortals about. The
stranger stopped a little way from the church and faced us.

     "'So Marcus, you have survived the past six hundred years or so.
But I shouldn't be too surprised at that, should I? After all, you have
Cornelia's blood in you. She was a strong woman.'

     "'You know of my lady? Is she well?' he asked cautiously. At last I
knew the name of the vampire who had made Marcus.

     "'I honestly don't know,' she responded frankly. 'The last time I saw
her was about four hundred years ago. She was well then, but I haven't seen
her since.'

     "'Who are you?' he asked.

     "'My name is unimportant,' she shrugged. 'But you may call me... the
Councilor.'

     "I thought the name unusual, but Marcus nodded before he answered.
'If... he was here,' he began, meaning the mysterious rogue of whom I had
heard so much, yet knew so little about, 'why didn't he contact me? Does he
bear me ill will?'

     "The Councilor smiled indulgently, showing her fangs.

     "'If he did, we wouldn't be speaking now, for he would have killed you
and your fledgling, probably before either of you could have known who was
attacking.'

     "Marcus nodded again in understanding.

     "'And you, do you mean us harm?' he asked.

     "'No.'

     "'Ah,' Marcus said, sounding relieved.

     "'Why are you here then?' I asked, rather impudently.

     "Marcus stiffened and reached out to squeeze my shoulder in an attempt
to silence me. Our visitor chuckled indulgently, turning her strange eyes
on me. For the first time I realized that there was something wrong with
them, or rather, alarmingly different. The pupils of the Councilor's eyes
were not round, but X-shaped. Then I remembered what Marcus had shown me
of his memories, of the rogue's eyes. They were the same! The crossed slits
widened, then narrowed as she studied me. I was in shock, wondering if I
was indeed in the presence of a heavenly being. Though I'm sure she heard
my thoughts, she ignored them.

     "'Curiosity brought me,' she replied after a few moments. 'I came here
following Marcus' old master, and he came because he'd sensed the presence
of a vampire who was seeking for something that no one, especially overly
curious fledglings, should even think of. But when the thoughts of the old
one he sought abruptly ceased I had to come and see what had happened for
myself. You both took care of him, didn't you?'

     "'Yes. Vatha and his followers are dead,' Marcus confessed. She nodded
at him.

     "'Good. From your old master's thoughts I know that he hopes Vatha
will be the last of the ancient burnt ones he ever has to deal with, though
I doubt he'll be so lucky. He has made a lot of enemies.'

     "'Will he do it again?' Marcus asked. 'Try to kill us all?'

     "'No. There are forces who will prevent him from repeating his rash
act. I cannot tell you how he did it, but I will tell you why. He believed
there were too many vampires on earth. His solution to the problem was...
not well recieved by his fellows." The Councilor looked at me again. 'And
by the way, there is a good reason why I survived intact when Vatha and so
many others were scarred or killed by flame, but that is not a story for
light telling.'

     "'So,' I began casually, hoping to worm some more information out of
the Councilor, 'I suppose when the rogue left here he returned to... '

     "'His home, yes,' she finished, cutting me off.

     "'Please, my friend didn't mean... '

     "'I know exactly what he meant, Marcus. So I'll come to the main
reason why we are here. I want to give you both this single warning: don't
meddle with things that don't concern you. Farewell. If you both are very
lucky, you'll never see me or your old master again.'

     "And then the Councilor appeared to vanish into thin air. Even with
our heightened vampire senses we were never able to tell how she did it
either, which gave greater weight to her threats. She obviously knew a
few more tricks than we did."

     "And you never saw the Councilor again?" asked Jack.

     "Well, yes, I did," Basil admitted. "But how and where that happened
will have to come in its proper place, later on in my story. Several more
years passed. Then one evening in the year 641 we emerged from our crypt
and were called outside by our anxious servants. From an upper porch of our
villa we could see fires burning throughout the city. From out of the
pandemonium of thoughts we picked up from the panicked and rioting mortals,
we learned that what Marcus had feared had indeed come to pass.

     "The war with the Persians had finally begun and after some initial
border skirmishes, the emperor had left to personally lead his troops into
battle. Heraclius was an experienced commander and all of Constantinople
had turned out to see him off with rejoicing, believing victory was a
God-ordained certainty. Thus it had come as a stunning blow to all when
the news arrived that our army had been utterly crushed in a disastrous
rout and the emperor slain.

     "Already, rival candidates for the throne had appeared and civil war
was in the offing. Renegade troops and criminals were looting the city with
impunity. I was at once concerned for my family and I intended to go and
see to it that they were alright, but Marcus tried to dissuade me from my
purpose.

     "'Don't go Basil,' he warned. 'Even our powers are no match for a city
in chaos.'

     "But I shook him off and went anyway. I was still young to eternity,
you see, and hadn't yet learned its harsh lessons."

     "That everything changes," Jack murmured, placing a hand on Basil's
shoulder and rubbing the blonde haired flesh.

     "Yes. You understand. But at that time, I didn't."

     Basil lapsed into silence, staring into the dull red embers of the
dying campfire broodingly. Jack watched him uneasily, guessing the worst
had happened to his family. He put his arms around Basil and drew him
closer, suddenly feeling sick of this story he was hearing.

     "Don't tell me any more of it," Jack whispered. "I can see I'm causing
you pain and I don't want that."

     "No, I believe it's important that you know all of it. Especially if
you're going to stay with me. Are you?"

     "Yes, Basil," Jack answered softly. "For as long as the changing world
allows."

     Basil straightened up and gave his friend a significant look, but when
he spoke again, he did not go on with his story.

     "I'm sorry my friend, but I must stop now," said Basil, looking away.

     Jack twisted around to glance in the same direction, already guessing
what he would see. The barest tinges of dawn-light were playing on the
eastern horizon, taking some of the glitter out of the stars. The men rose
and dressed, Jack following Basil's lead.

     Basil reached to pick up a half-burnt stick from the remains of their
campfire. Jack watched in puzzlement as Basil used its carbonized tip to
write upon the face of the nearby cliff. The five odd, scrawling marks he
made looked like no writing Jack had ever seen before.

     Then he paused, unsure. The symbols reminded Jack of something, but
he could not quite remember what it was. When Basil finished his task, he
turned and smiled at his companion.

     "You're trying to remember a story your grandfather told you, long
ago when you were a boy, about a demon called Hunts-by-night who is said
to haunt this country, and the sign of that entity. That's why those
symbols seem familiar to you."

     "What do they mean?"

     "It's my name, written in Greek. But it's also a sign that both my
friends and my enemies recognize. It means this place is under my
protection."

     "You mean others know of you, what you are?"

     "Except for my friends, all anyone else knows is a myth, a legend
I've promoted for a long time. For all intents and purposes, I am the
supernatural being known to many of the native tribes of the Oregon
country as Hunts-by-night."

     "But the stories also say Hunts-by-night protected a tribe of men like
us, man-loving men, a group called the heron men," Jack pointed out.

     "That's right," replied Basil. "They're also known as the Elxa."

     "The heron men are real?!"

     "Yes. I've been a member of the tribe for a long time. I'll tell you
more about them tomorrow night, Jack."

     Leaving Jack's camp they walked a few dozen yards upstream. Soon they
reached a point where the small valley widened. A thick copse of trees,
mostly cottonwoods and mountain mahogany, stood directly in the path of the
two men.

     The trees rose skyward from a dense base of undergrowth. The straight
shoots of arrow-wood bushes thrust up like porcupine quills, forming a
fragrant tangle with the other low shrubs there, that hugged the sandy
soil. Basil pushed through the interwoven scrubs to get among the trees
within and Jack followed.

     "I slept here yesterday," Basil began when they reached a clearing
with dimensions not much larger than his body, "and I will again. But what
about you?"

     "I'll stay here and wait for you, until nightfall."

     "If you do, I think you'd be safer if you didn't stay in the same
place."

     Basil turned and pointed. Peering between the trees, Jack saw a pair
of gnarled junipers clinging to and almost obscuring a break in the rocks
that defined the little valley, just wide enough for someone to squeeze
through. Even as the question formed in Jack's mind as to where the
opening led to, Basil began to tell him.

     "Beyond that crevasse is a path that will lead you up to a rock ledge
where you'll have a good view of this valley, but not be easily seen by
others. You can take our gear up there and get yourself some sleep in
relative safety. And to be on the safe side, I'd try to erase any tracks
you make between the camp and that crevasse."

     "Thank you. I will."

     Basil looked as if he was preparing to say something more, but checked
himself and merely smiled. He stepped closer and gave Jack a kiss that said
more to his newfound friend than any words could have. Then he turned and
in a blur of flailing limbs Basil tore up the ground, sinking into it
rapidly before Jack's wondering eyes. In moments only an innocent mound of
forest litter lay where the vampire had been standing, leaving no trace
that even the canniest Indian tracker might have found suspicious.

     Jack returned to the camp and gathered up his and Basil's belongings.
The path Basil had pointed out was narrow at first, but eventually opened
wide enough for a man to follow upward easily. He found the ledge to be
spacious enough for him to spread out the buffalo robes he and Basil had
shared the night before. After going back to carefully efface their tracks
with a leafy branch, Jack settled down in the refuge. He placed the rifles
within easy reach and laid down in the false light of dawn. Jack was asleep
within a minute's time.

* * *

     Not surprisingly, Jack dreamt of Constantinople.

     He stood in the colonnade lined streets of that legendary city,
thronged with men and women of all colors and descriptions, speaking in a
hundred tongues, dressed in all manner of furs and linens and silks. Jack
looked about himself in bewilderment, feeling lost in the crowd, until he
saw Basil.

     But he was no longer a clad in scarlet buckskin. Basil was a man of
obvious importance, arrayed richly in silk and gold trimmed garments, his
long fair hair bound with a broad green ribbon. Thus he made his way
through the streets as the people deferred to him as they would have to a
prince of the imperial family.

     Jack followed Basil. The men passed ornate churches, their outer walls
stained green where the rain sluiced off the great bronze domes that topped
them. They walked in the shadows of angular marble palaces, their rich
facades masking the secret dramas and devious intrigues for power that went
on within them.

     At intervals, the patterned brick pavements they trod widened into
spacious plazas, crowded with merchants' stalls. Many varicolored awnings
hung over the tables, shading an amazing variety of goods. Eventually the
pair came to the edge of a vast and lofty barrier of stone, and Jack
craned his neck, looking up at the great wall in awe. It was the inner
side of a massive fortification that defended the city against barbarian
attack.

     Basil turned and smiled as he embraced Jack. Then he led the metiff
to a flight of steps that took the pair up onto the crenellated summit of
the awesome defenses. Green countryside, dotted here and there by a domed
church or a marble villa, rolled away to the north and west.

     Jack turned and looked back. His gaze stretched across the vast
cityscape of gilded tile roofs and slender spires and stout towers as he
admired the works of ancient craftsmen. Basil leaned close to his ear and
whispered a warning, to stay alert and silent. Then voices, rising from
the streets below, began to speak.

     Looking down, Jack saw a merchant standing before his stall of goods.
He was engaged in haggling with a pair of Tartar warriors. The barbarians
were resplendent in their dark ratskin cloaks and furs and brilliant chain
mail, ornamented with bits of gold and silver jewelry taken by them in some
raid on the outer fringes of the empire. But, very oddly, Jack realized the
men were speaking English. As he listened, he was surprised to hear they
were not discussing just any ordinary business: they were arguing about
him!

     "Dammit, Tall Bear!" the merchant was exclaiming in a voice that
sounded strangely familiar, "We had a deal! You said you'd track down
Jack Ramsey for me!"

     "No more," one of the Tartars grumped, apparently Tall Bear, as he
pointed towards an object which Jack was surprised to see was the rock
Basil had marked earlier. "We have seen the sign of Hunts-by-night. This
trail you follow, for revenge on the half-breed you say harmed you, is
bad medicine. We are leaving it now. If you are wise, you will leave it
also."

     "Hunts-by-night?! He isn't real! That's just a redskin fairy tale!"

     Jack blinked, watching in amazement from the edge of the ledge above
this queer scene as his dream images, superimposed on reality, dissolved.
The Tartars became mounted Indian braves, Shoshone by their costumes and
the tokens they carried. And the merchant became Rob McGyre, his erstwhile
partner, standing before Jack's camp of the night before!

     Jack froze, knowing that the least sound would alert the wary braves
and lead them to his hiding place. But it was the sight of his ex-lover
that really raised the hairs on the back of Jack's neck. What in the hell
was McGyre talking about, wanting revenge? Revenge for what?

     "A myth does not leave marks upon stone." Tall Bear calmly pointed
out, turning his stallion's head to leave.

     "Wait, why are you afraid?"

     Jack was amazed that Rob would be so foolhardy as to call a Shoshone
brave a coward to his face. But his wonder increased when he heard the mild
manner in which Tall Bear answered. It was like the tone one used with an
impatient child who wants the impossible.

     "If my grandfather were here, who remembers things from a time long
before the white men came to our lands, he could tell you much of that
sign, for he had seen it when he was a child and heard the legends of
Hunts-by-night from his own grandfather's lips. Hunts-by-night is no idle
tale, nor a mere man to be trifled with, but a deathless demon in human
form. You may pursue your trail, McGyre," he said, giving his horse's ribs
a gentle kick to get it going, "but I shall not go with you, for it leads
to certain death."

     Tall Bear's companion followed after him wordlessly, leaving an
enraged McGyre alone, staring helplessly after them. Then with an explosion
of profanity he scooped up some mud from the edge of the stream and flung
it wrathfully at Basil's mark, covering it with a wide spatter. Mounting
his horse Rob wheeled about, taking a good last look around before spurring
off to catch up with the retreating warriors.

     Jack sat up to get a better view as he watched the three riders move
off downstream. He was astounded by what he had just heard and seen. Rob
McGyre wanted to kill him!

     He was at a loss to understand why Rob would want to hurt him now. If
Rob had wanted to, he could have done it at the fort. Unless he was afraid
of the authorities there, but that was unlikely.

     The Hudson Bay Company was the only white institution in the Oregon
country, but its main thrust was commerce, not governance. It did what it
could to keep the Indian tribes tranquil, so its factors could trade in
peace. But when it came to governing the white inhabitants of the country,
the Bay was at a disadvantage.

     British subjects did as they were told, by and large. Otherwise, they
would not have been allowed to conduct business there. But others,
especially Americans like McGyre, absolutely refused to be ruled by
English authorities. And the fact that the Oregon country was supposed to
be shared by Great Britain and the United States, while neither had
bothered to establish any official or military presence in the area to
enforce law and order, did little to help.

     Once the trio had ridden out of sight, Jack repositioned himself,
lying further back in the shadow of the rocks. He pondered what to do next.
Before his encounter with Basil, he had intended to go into the Blue
Mountains to search out likely places to spend the winter trapping beaver.

     But now his plans were upset. So long as he was a hunted man, Jack
could not afford to let his guard down. Perhaps Basil might have a solution
to this new problem, he mused, as sleep reclaimed him.

* * *

     "Don't worry Jack," a strange, sibilant voice spoke from the midst of
a remarkably thick blackness. "You have more than Hunts-by-night to protect
you now, much more... "

     Jack wondered why the voice reminded him of the music of flutes as he
responded.

     "Who are you?"

     "I am the one who protects and guides men like yourself: gentle,
man-loving men. I have done so as long as such men have existed. Go with
Hunts-by-night to meet the heron men. They are your brothers and will
welcome you."

     "Why can't I see you?"

     "Look."

     Jack turned in the direction he thought was meant. Two points of
lavender light shone in the darkness before more was revealed. The lights
became rolling spheres of flame, eyes in the skull of a huge bird, a heron,
which towered over Jack.

     "I am the Heron Spirit. I protect the Elxa. And I will protect you as
well, my brother, for you share their man-loving nature... "

* * *

     Jack awoke with the words of the Heron Spirit still echoing in his
ears. The position of the sun told the metiff it was late afternoon. After
carefully scouting the area from his perch to make sure he was alone, he
descended to the stream to drink and bathe.

     Despite the heat of the sun, the water was bracing. Jack was grateful
for the warm, sunny day as he stretched out on a flat rock to dry off.
Afterwards, he decided against trying to hunt, settling instead for some
more of the venison jerky Basil had brought.

     At last the sun fell beyond the far off western horizon. No sooner had
that happened than Jack heard rustlings among the bushes in the copse of
trees near the stream. Soon afterward, Basil pushed his way out of the
thicket, looking grave in the twilight.

     "Are you alright?" he asked.

     "Yes," Jack responded, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

     "When those strangers came into the valley... "

     "What?! How do you know about that?"

     "I don't really 'sleep' during the day," explained Basil. "My mind
remains alert. I heard the sound of their horses approaching as well as
every word they said. I could also read their thoughts."

     "As Marcus could?"

     "Exactly."

     "Then maybe you can tell me why McGyre wants to kill me!"

     "I should have told you about him earlier," conceded Basil, looking
regretful.

     "You mean you knew I was in danger?"

     "Yes. That was another reason why I followed you from Fort Vancouver,
obscuring your trail as I went and planting false leads for McGyre to
follow. Obviously I wasn't as successful as I thought. I couldn't fool
those Shoshone trackers. I didn't think and it almost got you killed. I'm
so sorry, my friend."

     "That mark you left sure spooked the Shoshone," Jack said, trying to
cheer Basil up. "Anybody'd think they'd seen the devil's hoofprints, the
way they carried on."

     "Yes, a devil they know well. As I told you earlier, Hunts-by-night is
the name I'm known by to many tribes."

     "McGyre thought you were a myth."

     "The more fool he. I've been in this country a long time, long enough
for legends of the 'deathless white god' to grow up and circulate among the
natives. But to get back to McGyre... "

     "Yes?"

     "After you left the fort, he found opinions of himself among the other
trappers to be, well, not flattering. They thought he'd treated you pretty
shabbily, to be honest."

     "Really? I thought they disapproved of me as much as McGyre did."

     "Publicly, perhaps. But they're all as human as you are, and if they
had to share a cabin with another man all winter, they'd sooner have a man
like you to share it with than not. But few of them would admit to having
feelings like that."

     Jack did not reply, so Basil forged on.

     "McGyre has somehow gotten it into his head that his manhood was
'compromised' by his liaison with you. And that only by killing you will he
prove to the world that he's a 'real' man. It would be pitifully funny if
it wasn't so dangerous for you."

     "If that strange dream I had was true, I don't have anything to worry
about from McGyre."

     "A dream?" Basil asked. "May I look into your mind and see it?"

     "Sure."

     Basil looked at Jack probingly for a few moments.

     "The Heron Spirit... " he murmured. "You've had a medicine dream."

     "A vision?" Jack replied.

     "Yes. A powerful one. You must tell our chief shaman, Ikukua, about it
when you meet him."

     "Do you know this spirit?"

     "Yes, though I've only experienced it through the memories of my
fellow heron men's medicine dreams. It cannot talk to me directly. My
nature is too different, it seems. May I look into your mind again and see
all of what you did?'

     "Sure" Jack replied. Basil gazed at his companion silently for a few
moments. Then he smiled.

     "I'm glad it welcomed you, Jack. It means my estimation of you was
right and you are worthy of joining the Elxa. But now, we need to leave
this place."

     "I have our gear over here," Jack indicated, slinging his pack and
rifle across his back as Basil did likewise. "I had thought of striking
up into the Blue Mountains, but if you have a better suggestion... "

     "As a matter of fact, I do," rejoined Basil, stepping closer. "Put
your arms around me and hold on tightly."

     "Why?"

     "You'll see."

     Jack shrugged and did as Basil had asked. Then the vampire left the
ground, rising into the sky as easily as if an enormous invisible balloon
were attached to them both. Jack gasped and looked at the receding earth
in alarm. Basil's grip tightened on his friend's body as he murmured in
Jack's ear, trying to reassure him.

     "This is another of the powers I possess. Put your feet on top of mine
if it helps." Basil allowed himself a smile. "It'll be rather hard for
McGyre to follow a trail through the air, don't you think?"

     "Where... where are we going?" Jack managed, forcing himself not to
look down as he felt their speed increase.

     "Southeast, roughly. There's a pleasant place I know of where we can
camp tonight, in La Grande Vallee."

     "That's a hard day's ride away from where we were, if my sense of the
country isn't too far off."

     "It's not, but this way you'll agree is a lot faster." No sooner had
he ceased speaking, Basil's smile faltered as his attention shifted away
to something not apparent to Jack. "Well, well. What have we here?"

     "What?"

     "I'm sensing the thoughts of a Paiute war party."

     "A war party?."

     "Raiders." Basil muttered, still distracted.

     "What's wrong? Are they a threat to us, too close to the camp you
wanted to take us to?"

     Basil gave a little snort of laughter.

     "I'm not worried about us," he reassured Jack. "But I have friends who
live in La Grande Vallee."

     "The Elxa?"

     "Yes. It's them I'm concerned for."

     "What can we do?"

     "'We' do nothing," Basil corrected, as the vector of their flight
took a downward turn. "You will wait here for me while I take care of the
raiders. Besides, I... need to feed. And I'm sure that's not something
you'd care to see."

     Jack did not reply as the pair came to earth again on a lightly wooded
hilltop. Full darkness had fallen by then, and while Jack settled down to
wait, Basil shed his gear and rummaged in his sack, drawing forth the short
sword he had mentioned in his story the night before. He hooked the
scabbard to his belt and, after giving Jack a reassuring kiss, took off. He
passed overhead like a shadow against the stars, traveling southward.

     It did not seem to Jack that any considerable length of time had
passed before the distant sound of a gunshot jolted him up from the log
where he was sitting. He strained his ears in the direction of the noise,
certain it had come from the south. But he heard nothing more, only the
whirr and chirp of nocturnal insects, an owl hooting and a coyote calling
far off.

     Long minutes went by. Finally, after half an hour or so, Jack heard
someone approaching on foot, along with other noises that told him Basil,
if it was he, was not alone. Gripping his rifle, he peered nervously around
the trunk of a tree toward the sounds and waited. Sweet relief flooded his
veins as his companion appeared, leading what appeared to be a string of
horses, carrying baggage.

     "Waste not, want not," he commented to Jack's questioning stare.

     "What? Don't tell me you've got a Paiute slung over one of those
horses to snack on later!"

     "That's not funny, Jack," Basil frowned.

     "Sorry."

     "Pick up our gear and follow me," the vampire went on, rather crossly.
"We're close to that campsite I told you about."

     Jack did as he was told without replying. The walk to the campsite was
uncomfortably silent. But at length Jack's subdued thoughts were distracted
by a sulfurous scent in the air.

     Even by starlight, he could see mists rising and hear the murmuring of
the waters that were the source of those mists. A hot spring! A few minutes
later, Basil led the horses into the midst of a natural fort, through the
only, easily defensible gap in a large circle of enormous boulders,
standing a mere stone's throw from the steaming waters. Then he turned and
faced Jack in the darkness.

     "I apologize for being short with you back there Jack," he began
contritely, "but I don't take killing lightly. I've always tried my best to
take only those who won't be missed, or deserve death, or who were already
dying."

     "Why didn't you kill McGyre then?"

     "You're not so vindictive that you'd want him to die, even if he has
hurt you. You're a bigger man than that."

     Jack took the time to ponder Basil's words while they set up camp,
eventually deciding that Basil was right. It was better to let go of Rob
and look to the future. The metiff thought about all this as he built a
campfire in a well-used hearth, finding dry wood ready stacked nearby.
Basil had been busying himself seeing to the horses, then by laying out
their buffalo robes before the firepit. He paused to watch Jack trying to
strike a spark from his tinderbox to start the fire.

     "Here," he said with a mischievous grin. "Let me help."

     Jack looked up in time to get a vague impression of something powerful
and invisible leaping from Basil's brain to touch the wood, striking like a
whip. He felt heat radiating, building up quickly, and managed to fall back
from it before the sticks burst into flame. He stared in amazement at the
vampire.

     "Another one of my abilities," shrugged Basil.

     "You could've warned me first!"

     "Sorry," he said, helping Jack up. "I won't surprise you again, I
promise."

     With that, Basil turned his attention to other things. Spreading out
a beautiful scarlet and violet Hudson's Bay Four Point trade blanket from
one of the bundles he'd brought back, he disposed his spoils upon it. Jack
came over to join him.

     "What do you have there?"

     "The raiders' equipment."

     As they sat down to examine the belongings of four Paiute braves, Jack
noticed that the firelight revealed Basil's complexion to be darker and
ruddier. He forced himself not to dwell too deeply on the source of that
healthy glow by picking up and examining a keen skinning knife. The handle
was of elkhorn, cunningly worked.

     "If you see anything here you like, you can have first choice."

     "Well, in that case... "

     Jack did not wait for a second invitation. He went directly to where
the horses were tied and inspected each of them with a critical eye.
Eventually he selected a fine bay stallion for his own.

     "I think I'll call you 'Bristol'," he cooed, stroking the horse's nose
affectionately.

     "Why 'Bristol'?"

     "My father was an English sailor," explained Jack. "He was the only
survivor of a shipwreck and was found and nursed back to health by my
mother's people, the Clatsop. 'Bristol' was the name of the ship he sailed
on. If it hadn't sunk, I would never have been born."

     "Well, let's hope your horse has better luck with that name than the
ship did!" Basil chuckled, turning back to continue sorting through the
items on the blanket. "The Elxa will be able to put all this to good use
when they get to the Rendezvous."

     "The heron men?" Jack asked as he rejoined his friend.

     "Yes." Basil replied, hefting a rifle and sighting down its length.
"I've been the protector of that tribe for over two hundred years. But I
don't know how much longer I can go on protecting them."

     "Why?"

     "Because the world is changing," sighed Basil. "While there were only
superstitious natives living in this country, all I needed to do was
project the image of a supernatural creature that protected the Elxa and
let fear do most of my work for me. But now that more and more skeptical
white men are coming into Oregon, the old ways won't work anymore. Sooner
or later, the whites will come and take the Elxa's lands here in La Grande
Vallee, in spite of all the bogeymen that they might be threatened with.
Even I can't stop them.

     "That's been a recurring problem in my long life, Jack: the world
around me changes while I do not. No matter how hard I try to find refuges
that offer me a home with a stable existence, time eventually undoes them
and sends me off to search for another place where I try to hide from time.
All the signs I can see tell me that I'm going to lose another home I've
loved and built with such care, and I don't like it. I suppose I was a bit
spoiled, considering where I came from."

     "Constantinople?"

     "Yes. It endured for so many centuries, basically unchanged, that had
I not traveled I would've been woefully unprepared for how dynamic and
turbulent life could be beyond the city walls when I was finally forced to
leave Constantinople."

     "And how did that happen?" asked Jack eagerly, anticipating more of
the vampire's story.

     "Aren't you hungry?" Basil asked, dashing his friend's hopes by
changing the subject as he opened up another bundle. "Our Paiute friends
seem to have had a bit of luck today shooting rabbits."

     To emphasize his point, Basil lifted three of the animals out of the
parcel, bound by their heels. Admitting to himself that he was hungry, Jack
resigned himself to further waiting and took them gratefully. Soon, the
cleaned carcasses were positioned on forked sticks over the fire to roast,
filling the air all around with a mouthwatering aroma.

     But Jack was distracted from his cooking meal when Basil rose and
began doffing his clothing. The metiff just watched, frozen in place beside
the fire, drinking in the sight. The flickering firelight played over his
companion's hard, compact body, revealing a form worthy of a classical
statue.

     But this was flesh that stood before Jack, a body adorned with a
thick, fleecy pelt of body fur only slightly darker than the hair of his
head, the color of honey. Basil's cock and balls hung pendulously, swaying
slightly with his every movement. Basil smiled at the lust he saw rising
in Jack's eyes and extended his hand to the man.

     "Come, my friend."

     He led Jack to the edge of the steaming pool and dove in. As Basil
swam off, Jack struggled out of his own clothes and followed. The water
held a warmth that penetrated to one's core, dissolving and washing away
tension and care in an almost magical way. Basil led Jack to some shallows
on the opposite side of the pond and the pair stretched out so that only
their faces showed above the misting surface.

     "The Romans were famous for building baths like these, where one could
get 'Roman clean': that meant having one's body shaved and the skin scraped
with special knives," Basil began. "But by my time, between irrational
Christian prejudices against bathing and the influence of barbarian
customs, the body shaving part of the bathing ritual had fallen out of
fashion. So when I became a vampire, this is how I was."

     "I'm glad," murmured Jack, running a hand across Basil's chest to feel
the blond tangle there. "I like it. If it weren't for my white father, I
wouldn't have the little body hair that I do."

     "You are beautiful, my friend," Basil sighed, returning the touch. A
sparse scattering of dark hairs grew across Jack's chest and Basil fingered
those that guarded one dark nipple, making Jack shudder as he replied.

     "I'm puzzled by one thing though."

     "What?"

     "What did the Christians have against bathing? None of the
missionaries I've ever met had that on their long list of forbidden
things."

     "It was more about the public nature of Roman baths, Jack. The
Christians were concerned that crowding nude people together would
encourage 'sinful practices'."

     "I think they might have been right," Jack smiled wryly as his hands
continued to move, exploring more of Basil's body.

     Basil grinned back and sat up before leading Jack out of the water and
onto a grassy bank. There they made love again, each yielding his body to
the other, feeling one another's rampant cocks thrusting deep into their
willing, wanting bodies until their juices spasmed forth, along with gasps
and half articulate words of love. Afterwards they returned to relax in the
warm shallows until their noses told them that the rabbits were dangerously
close to burning. Returning to the fire, they sat naked in its light as
Jack ate with his knife and fingers, listening as Basil resumed his
incredible story.

     "Where was I when I stopped yesterday?"

     "The emperor had died in battle and there was rioting in the city,"
Jack reminded his friend. "Marcus tried to stop you from going to your
family, but you went anyway."

     "Ah, yes. Well, I found the streets of the city packed with looters
and panicked refugees from the burning quarters. With my vampire abilities
it was the work of a moment to scan the minds of the seething throng of
humanity, find a criminal, pluck him from the crowd and slake my thirst so
I would be sure to have the strength to do whatever might be needed. Then
I climbed and passed above the mob, moving easily over the rooftops and
leaping across the alleys and streets between them, as Marcus had shown me.

     "At last I reached a church close to my family's home and climbed up
to the roofridge. I stood and looked to where the palace of the Anicii
ought to have been and my heart sank. That entire section of the city was
engulfed in flames.

     "It was impossible for me to go into that inferno. As you know from
Vatha's story, fire is one of few ways we vampires can be destroyed, and
for a few seconds I was at a loss. Then I remembered that my brother
always kept a ship ready for his use at a private quay. I headed for the
waterfront at once, hoping he had gotten our family there.

     "The chaos I saw in the streets was nothing compared to the panicked
crowds massed along the docks, desperately struggling for a place on a
boat, any boat, which would take them away from the burning city. Here and
there cordons of private soldiers held the surging crowds back while ship's
masters auctioned off places on board, asking and getting a prince's ransom
from those who could afford it. As I traveled across the roofs of the
warehouses and wineshops that lined the wharves I finally came to the pier
where I remembered my brother's ship was supposed to be docked, but there
was nothing there.

     "I scanned the area as Marcus had taught me and picked up the 'sound'
of someone thinking about the Anicii. Dropping to the ground in a shadowed
alley, I pushed my way into the milling crowd, which was thinner in that
place because there were no boats nearby to attract people. I went towards
the source of the thoughts I had felt. At the very end of the dock I found
the object of my search.

     "I was surprised to find a young man, in his late teens perhaps,
slumped in an attitude of despair, bent forward and gently rocking back and
forth with both hands pressed to his face. With all the deafening noise
being generated by the chaos around us, only my sensitive ears could hear
the low moaning that came from him. His mind was dimmed by grief and
because of that I could not see into it clearly, but the livery he wore,
though torn and dirty, was still recognizable as that the servants of the
Anicii wore.

     "'Here, boy,' I began as gently as I could, touching his shoulder.
'You belong to the House of the Anicii, do you not?'

     "The startled teenager looked up at me. He recognized me, though I
was not quite sure why. I was certain I had never seen him before. But
then that was not to be wondered at overmuch, seeing as there was a
veritable army of servants in residence at the palace and he could have
observed me at any of the few times a year I visited it.

     "'My lord Basil, why are you still here?' he managed.

     "'I should be asking you that, son. But what of my family? Are they
safe?'

     "'I didn't see them get away, my lord. I left the palace with them,
but was separated from their party by the crowd. By the time I got here,
the boat was gone.'

     "I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that, and the young man wiped
at his nose, seemingly ready to burst into tears again. Despite that, my
presence had calmed him enough to allow me to read his mind. He knew only
what he had told me.

     "Beyond that, I was a little taken aback. I learned he had indeed seen
me from afar on one or two occasions at the palace, as I guessed earlier.
But those glimpses had been enough to cause him to fall hopelessly in love
with me!"

     "He was... like us?"

     "Yes, Jack," Basil nodded. "His name was Cedric, a native of distant
Britain, captured and brought to the great slave markets of Constantinople,
like any other article of commerce. Bought to serve in our palace, he soon
came to hear the gossip about me from his fellow servants, who knew I was a
man who preferred men, the same as he.

     "He kept on the outlook for me, half in despair, knowing he had little
chance of attracting my attention. Unfortunately for Cedric, his despair
deepened when he did see me and fell in love. A love cursed by fate because
he knew the odds were against him ever being able to express it. Now that
we had been brought together by chance, he found himself overawed by my
presence and unable to think of how to make his feelings known to me, but
that wasn't a problem to be solved there and then.

     "'Get up, Cedric, you're coming with me.'

     "The effect of hearing me say his name was astonishing. He leapt up
and grasped my hand in sheer gratitude, unable to speak. But his thoughts
were a veritable rolling boil of joy and love and desire to serve me in any
way he could. It was quite intoxicating to know I could inspire another man
with feelings like that and I promised him he would be safe with me.

     "We made our way back into the city with little difficulty, as I used
my powers to read the minds of the passersby and find out where the fires
were not burning. By a combination of luck and my vampire senses, we made
it back to Marcus' villa without further incident. I took Cedric to the
pool in the garden and told him to take off his dirty livery and wash. He
did as I asked, looking thoughtful as he stepped into the water.

     "'My lord, you too are soiled by your work this night.' he observed.
'Let me wash you, please.'

     "'Very well,' I said, stripping off my smoke fouled clothing, knowing
full well the ulterior motives that were prompting the young man's zeal for
cleanliness, 'but you must listen carefully to me, Cedric, because what I
have to say affects our safety.'

     "'Yes, my lord,' he breathed, seeing the body of the man he had
dreamed of for so long bared to his eyes and available to his hands.

     "'You'll have to stay here in this villa for the time being,' I said
as I sat in the shallow pond. 'Those who live here with me will welcome
you and treat you well. You can trust them to protect you.'

     "'Yes, my lord,' he replied, taking a scrap of wet cloth and rubbing
my bare shoulders with it. I could tell Cedric was trying valiantly to obey
me despite his rising desire.

     "'When I locate my family, I'll have to send you back to them... '

     "'Must you, my lord?' he asked in barely concealed anguish. 'I wish
only to serve you now, until my death!'

     "'My dear boy,' I murmured, touched by his devotion. 'The house of the
Anicii may have fallen. We both must be careful and live in hiding for a
time, until I can find out what has happened to them. Why, I may find we
have all been proscribed as traitors and our property appropriated by
whoever has seized the throne. That would include you. Do you understand?'

     "'I understand, my lord.'

     "'You may call me by my name, Cedric,' I said, taking his hand and
bringing it to my lips, kissing it gently.

     "He nearly wept with joy as he hugged me. I gathered Cedric's
unresisting body into my arms and carried him to a nearby spot among the
olive trees. We made love there and I let him indulge in every curiosity
he had as we explored each other's bodies. He was a true son of Britain,
with skin of a paleness to rival my own and hair of a ebullient
reddish-gold color that would shine with splendor in the sunlight.

     "A ruddy moustache had already appeared on Cedric's face, and there
were signs that a beard of that same glorious color would soon follow. From
the coppery hairs that peppered his body I surmised he would grow a fine
pelt of body hair that would not be unattractive to me or other men of our
nature. His dark red pubic hair was an aureole surrounding a delectable
cock and set of balls that were a joy to smell and taste and suck."

     "Hmmm... " Jack sighed as his hand slipped down to his crotch,
adjusting his genitals and distracting Basil from his story.

     "What is it?"

     "If you keep on talking like that, I'll have to make love to you
again!"

     "That sounds wonderful. But can you wait?"

     "It won't be easy, but I'll try."

     "Anyway," Basil snorted in amusement, "suffice it to say Cedric was a
handsome teenager, well on his way to becoming a magnificent specimen of
manhood. Marcus was delighted with him as well when they met and placed him
under Philip's care with the other boys. Cedric soon accepted the fact that
his masters never appeared in the daylight without question."

     "Wait, what about your family?" Jack asked.

     "I never heard from any of them ever again, after that night."

     "Oh. I'm sorry."

     Basil acknowledged Jack's sympathy with a grateful look and went on.

     "Since it was possible my family had fled the city because of some
political entanglement that might have proved fatal, I followed their
example and 'died' as well. Marcus approved of my caution. We did not want
to attract attention to ourselves or our sanctuary.

     "It was difficult at first, cutting myself off from all I had known
and enjoyed in Constantinople, but I had the others to keep me company.
Marcus could still go out into society, of course, and he brought me word
of whatever was happening in our city. And then there was his fine library,
a mass of writing that would have taken two or three human lifetimes to
peruse fully.

     "When I did go out, I wore a hooded mantle that concealed my face.
Then I would prowl through the deserted markets and the slums. I became an
anonymous shadow that hunted the criminals who preyed on the wretched poor
who were always plentiful and never missed.

     "I often visited a certain tavern favored by the criminal element of
the city, where those worthy of my attentions resorted. The place had one
particularly dark corner, where I could sit mostly unnoticed. I would order
a mug of hot, spiced ale, enjoying its curious aroma while scanning the
minds there and comparing villainies, seeking the greatest sinner in the
place to be my victim for that night. I seldom was disappointed there.

     "Cedric was at first confined to the villa for his own good, lest
someone recognize him and ask awkward questions about the family he once
served. His love for me never flagged and I was pleased to find that my
first estimate of his intelligence was accurate. I saw to it that he
received a careful education, for I intended to see that he got to live a
full, rich and free life beyond the villa when he came of age. I felt the
same solicitude for him as Marcus had for me when I was mortal.

     "Five more years passed and Cedric had matured and grown. He was well
bearded and furred, just as I'd foreseen, and we considered him to be
disguised enough to be able to leave the villa to run errands, but always
at first in Philip's company. Nothing untoward happened during these
initial outings and gradually we loosened his leash. Soon he was visiting
all the best boy-brothels of the city, at my insistence... "

     "You insisted?" Jack asked in surprise.

     "Yes," was the calm reply. "I felt Cedric was too young to be
concentrating all his desire upon me and that he ought to indulge his
body's urges while he was young... "

     "You mean 'sow his wild oats'."

     "Yes," Basil smiled. "I suppose you could put it that way. The same
went for the other boy servants, who were also growing into young men. It
seemed that nothing could trouble our peaceful lives, until Marcus
surprised me one evening. I'd just returned from hunting and I found him
waiting for me, just inside the villa's gates.

     "As we walked among the olive trees, he informed me he had decided
to go on an extended trip. Marcus had a longing to see Athens and perhaps
Antioch and Egypt as well. When I asked how he planned to protect himself
during the day, he showed me how we could sleep covered by the earth, as
you saw me do last night.

     "He also revealed to me another wonder: Marcus had recently discovered
that his age had allowed him to develop the power to fly. That was how he
proposed to travel. I had to admit that flying would make his journey a lot
easier, but you know that already, don't you?" he asked Jack with a wink.

     Jack replied with a smile and Basil went on.

     "Marcus did not know how long he would be gone. My friend guessed his
journey would take a year or so, but thought he would be tempted to stay
away for longer than that. I promised to keep everything just as it was
against his return and he said his goodbyes to the servants, reminding
them to obey me just as they had him.

     "During the evening before Marcus left, we lay together in the crypt
for the last time. We made love with a tender urgency, not knowing when we
might do so again, until the sun rose and we slept in each other's arms.
After sunset, we both climbed to the battlements of Constantinople's
Theodosian walls. Marcus embraced me, said farewell and, turning to the
southwest, lifted himself into the air and flew away.

     "I watched my friend and mentor's form dwindle away into the distance
until it disappeared. But still I stayed where I was, until the sounds of
the nightwatch roused me from my sad reverie. I returned to the villa and
walked aimlessly through its elegant rooms under the gaze of the muted
servants, who were already missing Marcus, as keenly as I was.

     "Only a few days passed and we were all still adjusting to the change
when tragedy struck. One ill-omened evening I found Cyril waiting for me
as I left the crypt. He was one of the former serving boys who had grown
into a young man, becoming Philip's lieutenant in helping run the
household. He looked wasted with grief as he blurted out his shocking story
to me.

     "Philip, Cedric and another boy, Paul, had gone to one of the many
public markets where a riot had broken out. A thief had been caught in the
act of lifting a merchant's goods, a hue and cry went forth and in an
instant the plaza was in pandemonium as other thieves who always lurked
in such crowds took advantage of the situation to ply their trade under
cover of the chaos. In the ensuing fracas, Philip and Paul had suffered
some cuts and bruises, but were not badly hurt.

     "'And Cedric?' I asked.

     "'He was struck down by a soldier. Philip brought him back home, but
the doctor we summoned said he could do nothing... '

     "'Where is he? Take me to him at once!'

     "Cyril showed me where they had laid Cedric and I ordered the grieving
servants out of the room. Cedric was still alive, though barely. He had
lost a great amount of blood and some was still oozing from a wound on his
head. I knew from reading the servants' minds that the doctor had found
Cedric's skull fractured. I could scarcely hear his heart beating as I cut
my wrist and let my blood flow over Cedric's torn scalp. The skin and bone
beneath absorbed it, knitting and healing in a few seconds.

     "I gave no thought to what I did then, I only acted out of fear that I
would lose Cedric, for he had become more than dear to me. Marcus had told
me how to create another of our kind, though I had never tried to do it
before. I drained what little blood Cedric had, bringing him to the very
brink of death before I pressed my cut and bleeding wrist to his mouth. As
soon as he tasted my blood, his body quickened.

     "Cedric clamped his mouth upon the wound in my wrist and began sucking
ferociously. In recent years I had found few things to be painful to me
since I had become a vampire. But as I felt my blood being taken from me in
this way, I learned a new definition of pain.

     "I stood it for as long as I could, then wrenched my hand out of
Cedric's grasp. He gasped and fell back onto his bed, his body contorting
in pain as the transformation began. As I cradled my wrist and felt the
wound heal in a matter of seconds, I tried to comfort Cedric as he became
a vampire before my eyes.

     "Very soon, he sat up from his death bed, a new being. His beauty was
both enhanced and altered by the magic of the blood I had given him. His
skin was only a little paler than before, but Cedric's blue eyes had taken
on an icy quality that suggested a cold aloofness as well as power. He
boldly looked me in the eye and demanded more blood as he donned clean
clothing.

     "A little taken aback by his manner, I led Cedric out of the villa,
past the nonplussed servants and into the city. I knew he would have to
feed and was distracted, using my mental abilities to search for a
criminal. Thus I was taken by surprise when Cedric attacked the first
lone person we came upon.

     "I knew there was nothing I could do to save the mortal, so I waited
as Cedric fed. When I could tell the man was close to death, I warned
Cedric not to drink after his heart stopped, as Marcus had warned me. My
admonition was greeted by a harsh snarl, like that of a beast whose meal
is threatened by another predator.

     "By now I was thoroughly alarmed. In Cedric's case, the transformation
had affected his mind as well as his body, and not in a positive way. I
looked into his mind and found chaotic, savage thoughts, as if the heritage
of his wild Gael ancestors, the savage barbarians who painted themselves
blue and went into battle nude, the same men who had fought the great
Julius Caesar himself to a standstill so long ago, had been released
uncontrollably in Cedric. I tried to speak to him as he dropped the corpse,
hoping that his bloodlust had abated enough for him to listen to reason.

     "'Cedric,' I said evenly, trying not to show how much he was beginning
to unnerve me, 'we must hunt as anonymously as possible. Take only the
evildoers, the ones who won't be missed. And dispose of the bodies after
the kill. We must do this if we are to continue to live in peace here in
the midst of this great city.'

     "'Why?' he demanded. 'We are strong, powerful! Why must we hide from
these mortal cattle? We could conquer and rule them, then force them to
supply us with victims!'

     "'During the day we are vulnerable,' I said, trying to assert my
authority over him. 'Sooner or later the mortals would find our resting
places and kill us.'

     "'Why do you always have to stay at the villa? We could sleep
anywhere, change our resting places nightly! And there are mortals we
could trust, as you well know!'

     "'Enough!' I roared, finally losing patience with him. 'Pick up that
body and follow me!'

     "'You pick it up!' he roared back, before running off, vanishing into
the darkness with a speed equal to my own.

     "I was left there alone in the narrow street with the corpse,
astonished and chagrined. Too late, I realized Cedric's mind was unhinged.
I did not know it then, but later learned that sometimes the transformation
caused madness, and I was seeing it for the first time.

     "You can imagine how I felt at that moment. My rash act of mercy, my
selfish desire to save Cedric from death and keep him with me, had loosed
an insane vampire upon Constantinople. As much as I loved him, I had no
choice but to hunt him down and kill him before he caused a panic and
exposed our existence.

     "After disposing of the body of the man Cedric had killed, I returned
to the villa as quickly as I could. I looked for and found a victim to feed
on as I went, for I realized I would need all my strength to find and deal
with Cedric. As I entered my home I told one of the servants to bring
Philip to me as I went down to the crypt to get my sword, the same one I
had used to fight Vatha with."

     "That one?" Jack asked, pointing to the sheathed sword that lay atop
the pile of clothing Basil had shed earlier.

     "Yes, I still carry it. It's practically the only link I have left to
my mortal past. And it has served me well." Basil admitted, patting the
weapon before returning to his story. "I emerged to find Cyril waiting for
me, looking worried. I felt a sickening flash of deja vu as I asked him
what was wrong. He told me that Philip was gone.

     "'Gone?' I repeated.

     "'Yes,' he told me. 'We've looked all through the house and I was
going to send out two others to search the grounds... '

     "But I was not listening to Cyril by then. I had cast my mind forth,
to search for Philip's thoughts. If he were anywhere in the city, I would
soon find him.

     "'Oh my God!' I exclaimed, startling Cyril, 'Get all the servants
inside the house and bolt the doors! Then arm yourselves! If you see
Cedric, try to kill him, or he'll kill you! I'll try to stop him!'"

     "What did you see?" asked Jack.

     "Cedric had returned to the villa before me and abducted Philip,"
Basil informed Jack. "I left the house and sped towards Philip's
frightened and confused thoughts, through the olive grove that covered
most of the property. I arrived in time to see Philip convulsing on the
ground and Cedric standing over him, cradling a wound on his arm.

     "I did not hesitate, but attacked Cedric with every bit of my vampire
strength and speed, lest he escape me again. Fortunately, Cedric was not
expecting violence from me. From his earlier rantings, I gathered he
thought me weak and irresolute, which gave me the edge I needed.

     "Too fast for mortal eyes to follow, my sword arced in the darkness
and Cedric's head flew from his shoulders. Knowing he was dead, I dropped
beside Philip to see how badly hurt he was. He struggled to speak, then
abruptly I felt his words in my own mind.

     "'Basil, what... what's happening to me... '"

     "Cedric made him a vampire?" Jack guessed.

     "Yes," nodded Basil. "I learned from Philip later that Cedric told
him he wanted to make all of his fellow servants vampires, to create a
following as Vatha had, so that they might rule the city. Again I found
myself watching as mortal flesh was transformed by the mystery that dwelt
in our blood. To say I was apprehensive was an understatement. Cedric had
brought Philip over to this dark imitation of life in the full fury of his
madness and I was on my guard, lest Philip show the same signs of
irrationality.

     "But I saw only disorientation and pain in Philip's mind as his body
changed. I helped him up and led him to a bench beside the pool in the
garden. Philip's clothing was torn and dirtied by his abduction by Cedric,
so I called upon Cyril to bring Philip a new change of garments. When he
brought them, I uneasily noted the way Philip gazed hungrily at Cyril's
throat.

     "'Leave us,' I ordered Cyril, stepping between him and Philip for good
measure. Cyril fairly fled from us.

     "'I'm sorry, Basil,' Philip said, seeing the disapproval in my mind as
he struggled to restrain his newborn thirst.

     "'Come with me,' I beckoned, breathing a sigh of relief. At least
Philip seemed to have more self control than Cedric.

     "We went into the city and I taught him everything Marcus had taught
me, everything I would have taught Cedric. I quickly was assured that
there was no taint of madness in Philip, for he allowed himself to be
guided by me and agreed to keep the rules Marcus had laid down for us. I
did not look forward to returning to the villa, because of the unfinished
business there waiting for me.

     "Philip saw my sadness and volunteered to bury Cedric's corpse
himself, but I refused to excuse myself from the task. I had saved him,
first from the rioting mob and fire and then from death, but had been
forced to deliver him back into death's grasp. It seemed only right that
I do this last thing for him.

     "We picked up two spades from the house and went back to the spot
where I had left his body. We buried it at the foot of a particularly
gnarled olive tree. I buried Cedric's head separately, despite what
Marcus had told me. I didn't want to take any chances. The mere thought
of Cedric's severed parts knitting back together and returning to life
horrified me. I mourned Cedric sincerely, but I had to think of Philip
and try to guide him as well as Marcus had guided me.

     "Philip and I slept together in the crypt at first. But eventually the
knowledge that Marcus would soon be returning moved us to make an addition
to the villa. We had two more underground chambers built, interconnected
and with secret passages that led out into the olive groves so that we
would not have to go in or out of the chambers through the house, if for
some reason that were inconvenient.

     "As time passed, Philip and I settled into a mutually satisfying
relationship. Philip continued to care for and add to Marcus' already
extensive library, which he enjoyed as much as I did. We were
intellectually compatible and we found each other physically attractive.
Our lovemaking was gentle and fulfilling, not a grand passion by any
means, but more than most beings, mortal or immortal, have the luck to
find in this world."

     Jack sighed in assent, knowing exactly what Basil meant. He hoped he
could be that lucky with Basil, then reddened as he remembered his thoughts
were an open book to his companion. Basil chuckled and reached over to hug
Jack affectionately, letting the man know how Basil felt about him before
he continued on with his story.

     "Days and weeks passed, and turned to months. Cyril proved to be loyal
and hard working, an apt replacement for Philip. I saw to the purchase of
two new servants, lovely boys of course, whose natures were in tune with
ours. It was a simple matter for me to scan the minds of the 'merchandise'
at the slave markets to find them. They thought it a miracle that they had
come to serve a house filled with men who wanted the same things they did,
and showed their gratitude by happily obeying all Cyril's orders."

     "Wait," interrupted Jack. "What about Marcus?"

     "After a year passed, we looked daily for his return, but when another
year had passed, we began sending discreet agents to inquire after him in
Athens. When they drew blanks, we tried the other places he had mentioned,
Antioch and Alexandria. But no one could be found who knew of him or had
seen him.

     "Philip and I agreed to conduct ourselves as if Marcus would return
to us one day, but he never did. Or, at least, he never did while I
remained in Constantinople. It was another mystery... "

     "I'm sorry you lost your friend," Jack murmured.

     "It was only one of many changes I had to endure," replied Basil. "The
years continued to pass and while Philip and I remained as we were, the
generation aged and died that had known us as mortal men. New emperors and
dynasties reigned over the empire.

     "I found I could go out again and mingle with the nobility at night. I
listened to the teachers in the schools. And occasionally I found an
intellect worth engaging in conversation, one that spoke the eternal
language of philosophy.

     "Such contacts kept me abreast of the little things that always change
in society, like the scenery in a play, keeping me from seeming like a
relic of the past. But the grand stage, Constantinople itself, was
comfortingly constant. Emperors changed, barbarian hoards came and went,
but still the city went on."

     "And no other vampires ever appeared to bother you?" Jack asked.

     "Philip and I would sense the presence of fledglings who from time to
time found their way to our city, but most of them were frightened away
when they realized how powerful I was. Having the blood of Vatha in me, I
was as close to an 'ancient' as they had ever seen. Those who were not
easily frightened we hunted down and killed. Philip always took their blood
first, considering it a way of sparing our mortal victims, even if it was
only for a single night.

     "We were so harsh with these interlopers because we came to learn that
in most other European cities there were covens of vampires living as
Vatha's followers had. Knowing nothing of their true origins, they wallowed
in an ignorant, superstitious belief like Vatha's, that they were God's
special creation, descendants of the antediluvian fallen angels spared in
order to chastise sinful mortals. Such a deluded coven would have been
established in Constantinople long ago if Philip and I had not prevented
it.

     "By the middle of the eleventh century, I found I had developed the
same power to fly as Marcus had and I almost immediately determined to go
and look for him myself. I knew Philip did not want to be left alone, so
we agreed that a companion would be made for him. And fortunately we had
a suitable candidate available.

     "At that time we had a servant who loved Philip, a young man named
Leo, of mixed blood such as are thrown up by the ferment of different
races in great cities. His body and features were like those of the
Russian barbarians who served in the emperor's Vanagrian guard, but his
hair and skin coloration were dark, like the Arabs who had arisen in
recent centuries to annex all of Byzantium's southern provinces, except
for Asia Minor, to their new Caliphate of Baghdad.

     "As Leo had been with us for some years, he already knew more about us
than he let on. After Philip spent an evening with him, explaining what we
were and what we were offering to Leo, Philip descended to the crypt just
before dawn to sleep with me. I waited until he joined me in the bed to ask
what had happened.

     "'Leo has gone into the city to see it in the sunlight one last time,'
Philip responded.

     "'So, he accepted our offer?'

     "'Yes.'

     "'I'm glad for you,' I murmured. 'We both know he loves you.'

     "'Yes, but... '

     "'What?'

     "'I can't help but think about Cedric and what happened to him. You
know he loved you when you made him, but... '

     "'Did you tell Leo about Cedric?'

     "'Yes.'

     "'Then he knows the risks. He has the right to choose.'

     "'I know, but if the worst happens, I don't think I could do to Leo
what you did to Cedric.'

     "'You won't have to,' I whispered after a few moments, drawing Philip
comfortingly closer. Our lips touched as outside the dawn broke, firing the
sky, and our bodies relaxed into their daytime torpor.

     "The next evening, we found Leo seated in the garden, waiting for us.
It was his favorite place and I looked around, remembering it was where
Cedric and I had first made love. The olive trees were more gnarled, the
marble lining the pool was worn and cracked, but still the water sparkled
brightly and the flowers spread their sweet fragrance through the air. As
I mused about the past, Philip went to Leo and they spoke for a little
while before he brought Leo to me.

     "I took Leo as gently as I could, draining him to the point of death,
then giving him my blood to drink. The transformation took hold of him, and
Leo and I waited anxiously to see it through, concerned as to whether Leo's
mind would survive it. Again I was amazed by the enhancements our blood
gave to those who received it.

     "When Leo recovered, he went into the pool, as if to wash away the
last traces of his mortality. He stepped out of it looking like a young
god newly emerged from the sea, shaking the water out of his long black
hair and beard. We helped him dress and led him into the city, to teach
him what he needed to know to survive. I led my companions through all my
best hunting grounds, taking my last look at the city by night as Leo had
earlier by daylight.

     "Seeing that Leo's mind had survived my 'immortal kiss' as he so
poetically put it, I prepared to leave. I bid farewell to my friends and
left Constantinople the very next night, flying first to Athens. I explored
the Parthenon by moonlight, its pagan beauty unimpaired by its conversion
to an Orthodox Christian monastery. I stood upon the ancient temple's roof
and called to Marcus with my mind as I used to long ago. But I received no
answer.

     "It was the same in Antioch and Alexandria. I stood in the shadows of
time-blasted granite monuments that were old when Rome was a mere village
of mud huts and called to my friend, but always in vain. I traveled on,
into Libya, saw the remnants of old Carthage, then crossed the sea to
Italy, a sad land, pockmarked with ruins."

     "Did you meet any other vampires as you traveled?" asked Jack.

     "Yes, but they were all younger than I and none of them knew anything
of Marcus. Most of them fled in abject fear from me when I approached and
I soon learned to move without sound and cloak my thoughts in order to get
close enough to read their minds, to learn what I wanted from them. All of
the vampires I encountered belonged to one or another of the misguided
covens I mentioned earlier."

     "Eventually I reached Rome, but that city bore no resemblance to the
grand images conjured by the old epics or the classical stories I knew.
Only the faintest shadow of glory remained to lie across its gloomy,
broken ruins, inhabited mostly by servants of the Catholic church. I was
horrified to see the destruction of Rome continuing as ignorant peasants
smashed the marble remnants of ancient statues and temples to burn and
turn into lime to fertilize their fields. I found nothing to keep me there,
so I went on.

     "I crossed the Alps and came into what was once Gaul. I sought for
and paced the benighted plain of Chalons. That was where Attila the Hun's
dreams of the conquest of Europe had been smashed in an epic battle, one
all the old authorities described as an orgy of crimson carnage.

     "I held my ancestor's sword before me in a salute to the Roman dead
whose bones rested there as I walked across the battlefield. I tried to
imagine how the legions had fought the savage Huns there six centuries
earlier. I thought it a mercy that those men had not known that their
hard won victory ultimately proved futile in preventing the fall of the
empire.

     "I pressed on, to Paris, through Normandy and across the narrow sea to
England, to see the land of Cedric's birth. It was a tranquil realm, the
happiest I had yet seen since I began my travels. I journeyed through it
from south to north and eventually passed into Scotland. At a remote
monastery in the extreme north of that land I came upon two curiosities
that caused me to pause there.

     "The first was a legend of a 'green man', a wild godling of the woods.
The Christian brothers oddly did not regard it as an evil spirit, but
believed it protected their home. I at once suspected this was another
vampire and that intrigued me. Those of our kind who lived alone seemed to
be a great rarity.

     "For the next few days I slept near the monastery and at every sunset
when I rose I would call out mentally, inviting the green man to come and
speak with me. While I waited, the monks allowed me to read the records
they kept in their scriptorium. They accepted me as a rather eccentric
wandering scholar who could recite classical Latin epics that their scribes
had never heard of and eagerly jotted down my words as I regaled them with
ancient stories and myths.

     "They repaid me with the second curiosity: tales they had preserved of
the seafarers who came from the furthest north of Europe, the Vikings. The
Norse legends and sagas fascinated me. Especially the stories of the new
lands some of their mariners had discovered, far to the west, across the
Atlantic, an ocean that we Romans thought defined the edge of the world.

     "One evening as I was rereading those stories and dreaming of what
wonders this new world might hold, I became aware of a presence in the
library with me. I looked up and into the eyes of another vampire. He was
a blond giant, bushy haired and bearded, clad in the roughest of leather
garments, unlike anything the Scottish natives wore.

     "'Are you the green man these monks believe in?' I asked silently.

     "He nodded and sent the mental image of another vampire to me. Though
I had never actually seen him, I recognized him. I had glimpsed his image
in Marcus' mind many times. The rogue.

     "'Do you know him?' he queried mentally.

     "'I don't know his name,' I answered, 'but I know of him. The friend
whom I am seeking knew him well.'

     "'Come,' he commanded curtly, turning to leave.

     "I followed him out of the monastery and into the dense woods that
surrounded it. Out of respect for him, for I sensed he was older than I,
I did not try to shield my mind from him or attempt to read his thoughts.
When we reached a rude camp with a small fire burning in the midst of it,
he motioned for me to sit.

     "He refused to give me any name other than the 'green man'.
Nevertheless, at his request, I told him of my life, as I am telling it
to you now, Jack. My mortal life and death and dark rebirth, my nighttime
existence in Constantinople, and how I was questing in search of my missing
friend, Marcus. He grunted noncommittally when I finished.

     "'I wish you luck in your search, Basil,' he said, speaking old Latin
with a barbarous accent. 'Those of us who wander the earth alone are the
most vulnerable of our kind, and only the oldest dare do so. I am over a
thousand years old and have seen few of our kind visit this land.'

     "'I'm glad you answered my call,' I began cautiously. 'I was used to
speaking with my friends... our kind, I mean, all the time. I miss it.'

     "'Loneliness, I have found, is the one constant of our existence,' he
replied. 'But it was not just curiosity that prompted me to speak with you.
It was the mysteries you knew that attracted me, what you learned from
Marcus and Vatha, concerning the catastrophe the rouge loosed upon his own
kind, long ago.'

     "'I have been warned that it is dangerous to speak about that
subject.'

     "'Perhaps,' he shrugged. 'And then there was the idea I saw in your
mind, a desire to travel across the sea and visit the lands the Norsemen
have discovered.'

     "'Yes. But not a very practical idea I fear. The ocean is wide, and if
the sun should rise while I was flying above it... '

     "'Indeed. But you need not go so far in one night. There are islands
to the north and west. By traveling from one to another, the passage can
be made in relative safety for such as we.'

     "'I did not know that. The maps the monks have are so vague. Do you
think it can really be done?'

     "'I have done it. Twice.'

     "I was too stunned to speak, despite the questions about the western
lands that cropped up immediately in my mind. The green man grinned at my
astonishment and let me see what he knew about those lands in a flashing
kaleidoscope of mental images that he sent to me. I saw dense forests that
had never seen the axe, strange animals and the coppery skinned folk who
inhabited that new world, a people who knew nothing of iron or the wheel.
Even as I accepted his gifts, an unexpected sound startled all thoughts
of travel out of my head.

     "It was a woman's tinkling laughter. I stood and turned towards it,
as did the green man. Before the female vampire came into view, I sensed
unusual power in her, the kind of presence that Marcus and the green man
had because they were older than I, only much greater. You can imagine my
surprise when I recognized her."

     "The Councilor?" Jack guessed.

     "Yes." confirmed Basil. "The one who had confronted Marcus and myself
in Constantinople long ago. She looked me up and down with the strangely
pupiled eyes I remembered, smiling disarmingly. The green man, who was
obviously her companion in that place, watched me closely from the corner
of his eye, as if he expected me to do something untoward, while I
exclaimed in utter amazement.

     "'You!'

     "'Relax,' she cooed to her companion, reaching out familiarly to
stroke his hairy cheek lightly with pale fingers. 'This fledgling does
not scare easily.'

     "I wondered why she called me a fledgling. Or why she thought I would
be scared of her. And why the green man had implied that he was alone in
that place. The Councilor merely looked at me, plucked the questions from
my mind and answered them out of order.

     "'To me, my thousand plus year old friend here is a fledgling. I am
not a traveler like you, Basil, I have lived here for a long time now.
And I am much older than you can possibly imagine. Some find that by
itself to be frightening, though there are other good reasons for you to
be afraid, such as... '

     "She turned her gaze from me to the small campfire. Incredibly, I
felt a palpable emanation proceeding from her mind, directed at the fire.
With a sudden rush of heat and light, it blazed up, consuming half the
wood in an instant. I jumped away hastily as her gentle laugh filled the
clearing.

     "'As we age, we develop many powers. I am old enough to be able to
imagine a mental fire that will destroy physical objects and make it so. I
could annililate you with a thought, Basil, but you need not be concerned
about that. Had I wished you dead, you would have been so long before now.
My friend here has little interest in the outside world, but I wanted to
hear your story, learn how you had fared since we last met, so I had him
bring you here.'

     "'How old are you?' I breathed in awe. She waved her hand
nonchalantly.

     "'Let us just say I have been on earth for well over ten thousand
years.'

     "'Then... ' I managed, staggered by her words, 'you must know how it
all started... I mean... where we came from... '

     "'Yes, I do. But as you say, it is dangerous knowledge and I do not
intend to tell that story to you now. Perhaps in another thousand years, if
you're still around.'

     "The green man chuckled at that and she went on.

     "'Besides, I suppose you would much rather I told you where you could
find your lost friend, Marcus.'

     "'That's true,' I sighed.

     "'Well, I do not know where Marcus is, but,' she began, moving closer
towards me, 'there is another sort of help I could give you... '

     "'No!' the green man growled abruptly, taking a step in our direction.

     "I was amazed by what happened next. The Councilor merely glanced at
her suddenly upset companion and he was pushed several feet away from us,
as if by a giant, invisible hand. He stared at her in a mixture of
bafflement and displeasure, but made no more objections to whatever it was
she proposed to do.

     "She took me in her arms and embraced me. A hand came up to the back
of my head and gently pushed, guiding my lips to her throat. I felt her
breath caress my neck and knew what she wanted me to do.

     "As I had so long ago with Marcus, I shared my blood with her. But the
archaic ichor that flowed in her veins was as intoxicating as I remembered
Vatha's to be. If anything, more so. I felt as if I were drinking liquid
fire, felt it burning through my arteries and heart and brain, making me
lightheaded.

     "I lost all track of time in the Councilor's embrace. I did not even
notice when we stopped and separated. When I finally became aware of my
surroundings again, I was seated by the fire, staring distractedly into
the flames as newly made fledglings sometimes do, fascinated by patterns
unseen by mortal eyes.

     "I could still feel her blood churning in me. It was making me
stronger, faster. In short, I was a vastly more powerful vampire than I
had been only an hour before.

     "I looked up. The vampyric pair were sitting together opposite me. The
green man appeared to be thoroughly irate and had been speaking to the
Councilor. I caught a few of his last words.

     "'...have you found yourself another companion?" he grumped. "Are you
going to go off with Basil now, abandon me as you did...'

     "'No,' she cut him off. 'And you know I did not abandon him. He left
of his own accord because he was jealous of the attention I gave you. The
same sort of childish jealousy you're showing now towards Basil!'

     "As she said that, the Councilor let the green man know with a warning
thought that I was aware again. They both turned to me. She smiled.

     "'My blood will help you in your quest to find Marcus.'

     "'I don't know how to repay you,' I managed.

     "'Time will solve that mystery,' she murmured cryptically. 'What will
you do now?'

     "'I'm tempted to make the journey your companion has, to the far
western country. Perhaps I shall, after I've found Marcus.'

     "'The better part of the night is past already,' she observed
offhandedly, looking up at the sky. 'If you need to hunt, you had best go
do it now.'

     "I assumed the abrupt change of subject was a hint for me to leave. I
thanked them both for all they had shared with me and returned to the
monastery. I had not felt the need to hunt that night, and certainly did
not have to after drinking the Councilor's potent blood, but I decided it
would be wise to do as she had suggested. I realized it was no coincidence
when I encountered a pair of thieves whose thoughts told me they were
planning to rob the monastery. I made short work of them and slept in the
forest that day, next to where I buried their corpses.

     "Though my body is relaxed during its daytime torpor, my mind, as I
have told you, Jack, is fully aware of what goes on around me. So I knew
it at once when the Councilor's mind touched mine. She began to speak with
me from her daytime refuge, far away.

     "She warned me that her companion was so displeased by what she had
done, the act of sharing her blood with me, that he planned to try and
kill me. It was partly jealousy that motivated him, and partly fear that
I would misuse my new power. She asked me to forgive him, for he could not
help being what he was at heart, a wild barbarian warrior who as a mortal
had helped his people resist the invading legions of Julius Caesar. There
was nothing else to do, she told me, but leave that place as soon as I
could.

     "I agreed with her and as soon as the sun set, I took to the air and
returned to the south as quickly as I could, discovering in the process I
could fly much faster than before. I found things very different in England
from the last time I was there, only a few months earlier. The Normans were
in the process of conquering that country, bringing all of war's attendant
horrors in their train.

     "I recrossed the channel and wandered the lands of northern Europe,
continuing to search for Marcus, but found only mortals struggling to
survive in the violence and ignorance and filth of what a later time would
call the Middle Ages. In the scattered monasteries I encountered men who
could converse with me in Latin and, rarely, Greek. But most of them could
only speak of church dogma and regarded my allusions to the classical
learning of the 'pagan Romans' with deep suspicion.

     "At last I returned to Constantinople, weary of seeing everything
except the sophistication I was used to in my native city. Philip and Leo
were overjoyed to see me again after three years and the feeling was quite
mutual. We settled back into the routine that Marcus had established for us
and we three lived happily in our sanctuary.

     "There was one change I made in way we lived however. After seeing so
many whom I regarded as unworthy of immortality loose in the world, I vowed
I would do my small part to correct that. From that time we began to reward
our most faithful and deserving servants with the magic of our blood, and,
sometimes, other mortals we knew of whose good qualities deserved to be
perpetuated in the world. Most of those were men who shared our nature,
fellow man lovers.

     "We always gave them the choice of course. And we told them of
Cedric's fate, warning them what we would have to do if the transformation
caused them to fall into madness. But very few refused us, and fewer still
were afflicted by the madness that forced us to destroy them.

     "Constantinople was large enough to support a number of vampires, but
some of those whom we created left to live in other cities of the world. We
urged them to stay in touch with us, should they fall afoul of the covens
and need our help or - always a hope I cherished - one of them should
discover what had become of Marcus. I continued to travel on occasion,
visiting these distant friends and investigating any rumor of Marcus, no
matter how vague.

     "Time and life and change continued around us as we watched,
untouched by any of them. A series of quixotic Crusades passed through
Constantinople, supporting ephemeral Christian kingdoms that eventually
vanished like water into the desert sands they had been built upon. The
Fourth Crusade was the worst of these."

     "Why?" Jack asked.

     "Because this particular 'sacred mission' became merely an excuse for
the Venetians to sack Constantinople. Through base betrayal, the city was
given over to the looters for three days and our villa only avoided being
despoiled because of our mental powers. We could not just read thoughts
you see, but plant them as well. We cast the suggestion of worthless,
uninteresting olive groves around our home and that kept most of the
mortal pillagers away. Those who came anyway were easily dealt with by
our servants or ourselves.

     "Later, the Black Death entered Europe through Constantinople. We
watched in disbelief as the epidemic decimated our city and spread on to
become the pandemic that changed the course of European history. But at
the time, even we immortals were convinced that we were witnessing the
end of all human life on earth and feared we would be left alone to starve
amid a wilderness of mortal graves.

     "By the end of the fourteenth century, it was becoming painfully
obvious that the empire was beginning to falter and die. The Turks,
successors of the Arabs, seemed to roam and loot at will across Asia Minor
and the Balkans. Little by little, the authority of our emperors shrank
and was restricted at last to Constantinople itself and the lands
immediately around it. Only our great walls kept my beloved city safe.

     "But those barriers were not proof against folly nor the decay that
proceeded apace within the palace. At a time when our emperors should have
been conserving their strength and making alliances with the Christian
nations of Western Europe, plots and coups multiplied, sapping what little
vitality our people had left. With a heavy heart, I prepared to leave
Constantinople, not wanting to be there when she fell and be a witness to
the extinction of the last flickering light of antiquity.

     "I bid my friends there goodbye and good luck, letting them all know
where I was headed in case the worst happened and they needed to find me.
Again I wandered through Europe, finding little had really changed since
the last time I had been there. Kings ruled, priests prayed, and the poor
toiled to support them, as always.

     "At last I reached England and found a new home in London. There were
vampires there already of course, some of them part of the group I had
helped create. These helped me find a safe place to hide during the day
and the others gave me a wide berth, for I was the oldest vampire among
them, more powerful than any they had ever seen.

     "Soon we were joined by other refugees from the east and I heard of
the fall of my beloved city, rechristened Istanbul by the conquering Turks.
London became the center of my world and in it I witnessed the twilight of
the Plantagenets, the antics of the Tudor court and the astonishing
matrimonial follies of the eighth Henry. The material splendor of his
daughter Elizabeth's court was matched only by its devotion to learning
and intellectual prowess.

     "I was privileged to interact with some of the great men who were
attracted to and inspired by the virgin queen. Posing as a minor nobleman
with a scholarly bent, I used my knowledge of ancient literature to point
them towards whatever sources I thought could feed their restless minds.
I wept and cheered with the crowds at the playhouses, astonished by the
sheer genius of Marlowe and Shakespeare. And I eagerly studied all I
could find that was written about the New World.

     "First Spain and Portugal, then France and at last England too planted
colonies there. Those who returned brought back intriguing stories of new
races of men and the ancient, non-Christian civilizations the natives had
built, as well as species of plants and animals unlike any found in Europe.
My old desire to see the New World for myself resurfaced, especially after
Elizabeth's death, when England fell under the bleak rule of the Stuarts.

     "The change that came over my adopted country saddened me, but it was
not until many years later that I read an apt description of that change. A
perceptive historian said: 'The 'merry old England' of faeries and
buffoons, of magicians and drink-loving sages, that Shakespeare
immortalized, went under in the storm of religious controversies that
broke after Queen Elizabeth's death and vanished forever in the Civil War
which cost King Charles his head.' Long before all that happened though,
I decided it was time to fulfill my dream of seeing the world beyond the
Atlantic. Once more I said my goodbyes to those I loved and let them know
where I was going.

     "As I had been told by the green man long ago, it was a simple matter
for me to fly from Scotland to Iceland to Greenland and at last reach the
New World. I explored the eastern coast of that continent, going as far
south as the jungles of Central America. In a dead city I found lost amid
trackless rainforests I came upon the ruins of a great temple that was
strangely familiar to me.

     "As I paced its broken remnants, following the contours that still
showed through the jungle growth, I realized that this was the very temple
I had seen in Vatha's thoughts centuries ago, where he had presided as a
god of justice over the people who lived there. I looked at the ruins
around me and wondered if the city had died because Vatha had left it. I
imagined his leaderless people falling into anarchy and chaos, because they
did not know how to handle crime amongst themselves. But no matter what the
reason, it was plain they had abandoned the site, left it to be swallowed
whole by the tropical jungle.

     "I found this all so unsettling, like a bad omen, that I decided to
turn back to the north. I traveled along the Pacific coast and passed from
dense jungles to bleak deserts, which gave way in their turn to grasslands
and conifer forests. Eventually I came into the country that Europeans
would one day call Oregon.

     "There I found the Elxa, or heron men, a tribe of Indians unlike any I
had encountered so far. The group was made up of men like ourselves, who
had left the tribes they were born into, gathering together to create a
band of man-loving brothers. They were perforce a small tribe, and despite
the impressive and easily defended stronghold they lived in, an adobe cliff
dwelling hidden away in a secluded canyon, they were constantly on their
guard against their larger, more powerful neighbors.

     "It was the Elxa's open acceptance of men who loved men that drew me
to them. And then there were their beliefs in the supernatural energies
that mansex could raise and the spirits who were attracted to it, a concept
I found quite intriguing. Wanting to learn more of the heron men's ways, I
found a refuge near their city and intended to study them for awhile from a
distance, feeling secure in my abilities to conceal myself from mortal
eyes, a skill honed over many centuries.

     "You may imagine my surprise when I found a few whose thoughts told me
their totems had revealed my presence to them, and told them what I was.
Further, they did not fear me. Cautiously, I revealed myself at first only
to those visionaries, who brought me before the tribal elders of the heron
men. They welcomed me warmly and as we sat beside low fires, they told me
what their guardian spirits had communicated to them in sacred dreams,
about myself.

     "They named me Hunts-by-night, a very apt appellation. Through the
tribesmen's thoughts I saw the spirits they consorted with, experiencing
the heron men's visions of the spirit world they were allied with, existing
invisibly all around us. It proved to be the only way I could know those
beneficent powers. I have tried many times to induce a sacred dream,
following the rituals of the Elxa, but it seems my nature is too different.

     "Because of that, I never did as I had elsewhere, offering my gifts to
the worthy men of the Elxa. In their case, it would have cut them off from
the intimate communion they shared with their gods. That was too hard a
thing to ask of such a spiritual people, for whom death held not terrors,
but a certainty of continuing life and manlove in the place where their
totems dwelt, along with every heron man who had preceded them.

     "Eventually, the whole tribe came to know and accept me and freely
share their love with me, in despite of what I was. I became the Elxa's
defender, not that they were in any great need of my help, you understand.
The spirits who commune with the Elxa act as an early warning system and
no enemy has ever penetrated into their cliff city. Still, I did my part,
warding off the heron men's enemies and making this valley safe for their
hunting parties. And, when the shamen received visions of new brothers
coming to join the heron men, I would go out to meet them and escort them
through the dangers of the wilderness to our hidden city. I have been here
for over two centuries now."

     Jack sat back as the spell of Basil's storytelling ended.

     "So now you've heard it all, Jack, my life up to this point. What do
you think?"

     "I think," he murmured earnestly, reaching out to gather Basil into
his arms and pull him down in the soft nest of buffalo robes and blankets
they had built to rest in, "that I've fallen in love with you!"

* * *

     Dawn came and went gently. It was not until the sun was high enough to
shine down into the circular rock formation that its light urged Jack to
wake up. He stretched and rolled over in the all-encompassing warmth and
comfort of the huge buffalo robe, reaching for the body of the man who had
shared it and his love in the night. But his hands found nothing and he
opened his eyes.

     Of course, he was alone in the bedding. Jack sat up and looked around,
yawning and trying to focus on his surroundings. The only movements in the
camp came from a thin streamer of smoke rising lazily from the remnants of
the campfire and the horses as they grazed.

     In the bright morning sunlight washing over the natural fortress, Jack
could see Basil's rifle and pack still resting where he had placed them the
night before. Then Jack's eye fell on a scrap of paper. It had been left
near his head, pinned down with a stone. Retrieving it, he began to read.

     My Dearest Jack,

     You looked to be at such peace when morning approached that I could
not bring myself to wake you, so I left this note to tell you that you will
be safe here until I return at nightfall. You might have visitors during
the day. Welcome them, for the Elxa are my friends and shall be yours as
well. They will know of our friendship by my sign which I left upon the
stones. If no one comes, wait for me here. We will go on to the Elxa's
hidden city, which is ordinarily two days' journey to the west from this
hot spring, but only a few minutes' flight away for myself.

     The note was signed 'With All My Heart, Basil'. Jack slowly traced
the letters with one finger, wondering at the feelings Basil's signature
inspired in him. They had met only two days ago, and already Jack had
forgotten...

     ...McGyre. Again the sadness and the anger, a bitter pang of emotion,
rose within the metiff. But they could not overcome the positive feelings
that had grown from the seed of hope Basil's freely given love had planted
in Jack's wounded heart.

     Jack noticed more writing under Basil's signature, composed of a
series of odd characters. It was the sign of Hunts-by-night, the same mark
Basil had left in their camp. He recalled what Basil had told him as he
studied the Greek writing, briefly trying to imagine the ancient
civilization that had once used it.

     Carefully folding up the note, he put it in his pack. Then Jack got up
and went over to the misting pool for a morning swim. After lazing about in
the warm water for a sinfully indulgent amount of time, he emerged with the
intention of rekindling the fire and warming up some of the leftover rabbit
for his breakfast.

     "Hello."

     Jack froze at the entrance of the camp, water still dripping from his
nude body, a thousand unpleasant thoughts about ambushes roiling in his
mind like the steam that rose from the hot springs behind him. A stranger,
a quite handsome Indian who looked to be in his early twenties, like Jack,
was squatting beside the fire, busily rebuilding it. Without interrupting
his task, nor with hardly a glance in the direction of the nonplussed,
naked metiff who was studying the newcomer, he spoke again.

     "I mean you no harm, friend of Hunts-by-night," he murmured. "My name
is Xaculi. I am a scout of the Elxa."

     "I'm Jack, Jack Ramsey," managed Jack in relief as he searched out and
donned his clothing.

     Xaculi smiled at the metiff as he poked one damp leg into his pants,
his cock and balls dangling openly before the Elxa brave's sharp eyes.
Jack was feeling an attraction to Xaculi, and it seemed Xaculi was
interested in return. Pushing his stiffening pecker down one pantleg, Jack
buttoned himself up. He deliberately stopped at his pants and knelt beside
the heron man as he continued to work on the fire.

     "Ba... I mean, Hunts-by-night told me I might have visitors today. I
ought to have kept a sharper lookout."

     "There was no need. You have no enemies within a day's ride of here,"
Xaculi replied confidently.

     "A Paiute war party might count as a danger, wouldn't it?"

     Xaculi finally got the fire to start. He sat up and looked at Jack,
smiling indulgently. Then he gestured towards the horses and the bundles of
goods offhandedly as he spoke.

     "Yes. But Hunts-by-night has taken care of them. Unless of course it
was you who was the mighty warrior who killed them and took all their
belongings!"

     "No, you were right the first time. Hunts-by-night said something
about these goods being of use to the Elxa, when they go to the
Rendezvous."

     "Ah. That is good. A party of our people headed for Rendezvous is on
their way here."

     "Oh?"

     "They might be here by noon. Since Hunts-by-night is nearby, we will
camp here tonight and see what he advises us to do."

     "You speak English well."

     "Our tribe has had many white members and they have taught us their
tongues. Perhaps you will stay long enough to learn our tongue as well."

     "Well, I haven't really thought that far ahead, but I thank you for
the offer."

     "Are you hungry?"

     "Yes. I think there's some rabbit left over from last night... " Jack
began, looking for the raw skin he had wrapped the cooked meat in.

     "And afterwards, perhaps," Xaculi murmured, "we might swim in the hot
spring." The brave's hand stroked the bare skin of Jack's side gently. "You
are a handsome man, my friend. My eyes would delight in seeing your
nakedness again. And perhaps you will find me pleasant to look upon as
well, once my clothing is removed... "

     "Yes... I mean I think I would, very much... " Jack stammered, feeling
his sex harden in his pants as he handed the heron man the leftovers.
Xaculi could not help but notice his reaction and smiled, but did not speak
again until after he had skewered the cold meat and suspended it over the
fire to warm up.

     "I do not know how much Hunts-by-night has told you about the ways of
our tribe, Jack, but if we decide to make love later, it will not upset
your friend. To the Elxa, love is a blessing that is meant to be shared
with all our brothers."

     "So... your partner wouldn't be jealous either?"

     "Jealousy is a concept foreign to the Elxa, Jack. No, my lover, Many
Stars, would not be jealous." Xaculi chuckled and looked slyly at Jack. "In
fact, knowing his tastes, he will probably want to make love to you also.
He becomes... er... quite aroused by bearded men." Jack looked a bit
perplexed and Xaculi went on. "Are you wondering why, if that is the case,
he would love me, a beardless man?"

     "It did occur to me."

     "Love - true love - between two friends has nothing to do with outward
appearances. It is something that calls to that which is invisible, their
spirits. Many Stars and I share such a bond. But perhaps you know this
already?"

     "I never really thought about it much. I've only been in love... "

     Jack's voice trailed off. He was going to say 'once', with McGyre, but
with Basil he felt much the same. And now Xaculi was inflaming him with the
same good feelings.

     "Jack?"

     "Xaculi, do your elders believe if it is possible to love - really
love, as you just said - more than one person at the same time?"

     "I love all my Elxa brothers, Jack. I hope someday you will too and
share the joy that sacred feeling of shared love brings me, everyday."

     "But Many Stars is special to you, isn't he?"

     "Of course. But our bond does not keep us from loving others of our
kind."

     "I think I'll need more time before I really understand the ways of
the Elxa, Xaculi."

     "There is no reason for you to hurry yourself to an understanding of
the Way of the Heron, my brother."

     "The Way of the Heron?"

     "It is our name for the path of power our tribe walks. A journey
towards a deep understanding of our man-loving natures, and the energy our
lovemaking generates. We learn how to use it to benefit ourselves and all
our brothers, human and animal and spirit."

     "Hunts-by-night mentioned the spirits who aid the Elxa," Jack
confessed. "I saw one in a dream the other day who said he was the Heron
Spirit."

     "Ah! He is the mightiest of those who guide and protect us from his
home in the spirit realm. You must tell your dream to our shaman, Ikukua,"
Xaculi murmured as he reached out to turn the rabbits. "But as I said
before, do not worry if you lack understanding of our ways. Let your
man-loving male heart open to us, as ours will open to you and the
knowledge will come. Love is many things, my new friend. One of them is
patience."

     Jack watched the native and felt his desire for Xaculi rise. He looked
back at the hot spring and imagined how it would be, caressing Xaculi's
smooth dark skin in the water... Jack closed his eyes and wondered how
Basil might feel about that. To his surprise, the vampire's voice whispered
in his mind.

     'Xaculi is right, Jack. I know many heron men who will want to make
love to a man as handsome as you. And I will never love you less than I do
now, even if you were to accept the advances of every man in the tribe!'

     'What sort of man do you think I am?!' Jack thought in surprise.

     'The man I have fallen in love with,' answered Basil.

     "Basil... " Jack muttered under his breath, his heart full of longing
for the man.

     "The rabbit is ready, Jack," interrupted Xaculi, offering his
companion a skewer.

     Jack bit into the steaming meat, enjoying the taste. Maybe what the
heron men were offering him was as simple as that, something to be simply
enjoyed and not thought about too much. Jack glanced at Xaculi and decided
to let things happen as they happened.

     He reached over with a free hand and caressed the brave's bare
shoulder gently. Xaculi sighed and returned the touch, running his fingers
up Jack's side. Neither man spoke, but continued to eat and think about
what the future might bring.

* * *

     The sun had passed its zenith by the time the Elxa party that Xaculi
expected reached the hot springs. At least, Jack thought wryly as he and
Xaculi picked up and donned their clothing, he would not be caught naked
again. The men had swam and washed before retiring to the grassy banks of
the steaming pond.

     There, they had spent unhurried, golden sunlit time, gently exploring
each other's bodies. A shudder of pleasure went through Jack as he recalled
the gentle love he shared with Xaculi, the memory of the brave's strong
body above his, the man's dark cock thrusting deeply into Jack with steady,
sensuous strokes, stimulating the firespot within him until Jack shot his
hot juices all over both of them, as Xaculi's essence pulsed and filled him
with equal warmth, their conjoined bodies writhing and their breathing
labored like two men who had just run a marathon. And afterwards, lying
exhausted in each other's arms, listening to one another's heartbeats and
not wanting to move. At least not until they spotted the cloud of dust
being kicked up by the approaching party of heron men.

     Separating reluctantly, the men promised each other they would get
together again, soon. Not too long afterwards, Xaculi greeted his brother
tribesmen joyfully, including his lover Many Stars. Jack saw that it was
not a large party, but he had to admit its members were hard workers. Soon,
with the help of Xaculi and Jack, a modest, but intricately decorated
structure was raised beside the pool of steaming waters. Its outer sheaf
of painted buffalo skins was hung over a conical frame of timbers, forming
a lodge of a type the French-Canadian voyageurs called 'tepis'.

     As Basil had told him, Jack learned that the Elxa were a mixed
society, made up of man-loving males from many tribes, as well as some
similarly inclined white men. He noted the antics of two of those white
tribesmen, Yves Rebour and Dan Epps, with particular amusement as they
sparred verbally while setting up their camp. The trappers were obviously
partners by the bantering way they traded insults as they worked.

     "Yves, you son of a snake, hand me your knife!"

     "Bois de vache!" Yves exclaimed, in the midst of a task of his own.
"Get it yourself, Dan, you lazy donc!"

     "Okay, I will." As Dan said that, he reached for the knife in the
sheath that hung from Yves' belt, but deliberately overreached and grasped
the man's cock through his buckskin britches.

     "Oops! Sorry!" Dan grinned his apology as insincerely as possible as
he quickly released Yves, grabbed the hilt and took the knife. Yves
glowered at him.

     "Maybe tonight I stab you in your sleep, you miserable joker!"

     "Promise to use that weapon in your pants," Dan winked, "and you can
stab me with it all night if you want!"

     "I promise!" returned Yves. "I promise to nail you to the ground with
it!"

     "I can't wait!" Dan sighed in an exaggerated way as he blew his
partner a kiss.

     Jack was looking forward to an uninterrupted afternoon nap as he
passed the noisy pair and lugged his and Basil's gear inside the lodge. So
he was unprepared when he found the place already occupied. Several
inhabitants looked at him with as much undisguised surprise as Jack was
feeling.

     Five of these lay nestled in a basket close at hand. A litter of
fat black puppies lifted their snouts in unison to try and size up the
intruder. Apparently finding Jack acceptable, they snuggled back into
their crowded bed and went back to sleep.

     One of the other two there, a young and pretty metiff woman, leapt up
at once to help Jack find a place for his belongings. She introduced
herself in a flurry of French Canadian patois as Fleur. Fortunately she
also knew a little English, for Jack's understanding of Quebecois was poor
despite the many voyageurs he knew from Fort Vancouver.

     The last resident of the lodge was a tiny infant. He seemed to be no
more than a few months old and lay gurgling happily in Fleur's part of the
lodge, bound to a cradleboard. A glance told Jack that the reddish-haired
child was white, or mostly so.

     "You like little Marcus, no?" she asked, adding: "Basil has nice son,
no?"

     Jack agreed, thanked Fleur for her help and, choosing a spot opposite
to hers, stripped and wrapped himself up in one of the fine Paiute blankets
he had chosen to keep for himself. He could not miss Fleur's apprising
glances at his body as he did so and felt a little apprehensive. Jack
wondered if Fleur would follow a hospitable custom widely practiced in the
northwest, to offer him the use of her body as long as he sojourned in her
lodge.

     Jack touched himself beneath the covers, wondering what it might be
like, for he had never had a woman before. Added to that were not a few
questions about the things he had heard during his short conversation with
Fleur, making him wonder what exactly her connection to Basil was. Did the
vampire have a wife and son and want Jack as his lover as well? But at last
Jack decided he could question Basil about Fleur and her child later and
addressed himself to sleep.

* * *

     "Jack Ramsey."

     "Yes?"

     As Jack answered to his name he opened his eyes. He was confused by
what he saw. The lodge he had gone to sleep in had disappeared and the
metiff found himself lying naked in a vast field of tall, sweet-smelling
grass. A golden sun shone its gloriously splendid warmth down upon him.

     "Do not be afraid, my son," the voice spoke again. "You are having a
medicine dream."

     Jack looked for the person who was speaking to him. He saw a native
elder seated nearby. The man's long, unbound hair, streaked with white, was
tossed playfully by a gentle breeze. Jack sat up and looked at the expanse
of rippling grass around them. Unfamiliar distant mountains purpled the
horizon.

     "Where are we?"

     "This place has many names, but the Elxa call it the spirit realm,"
the elder smiled. "Those who have physical bodies can only visit it in
their dreams, though few dreamers remember what they see and hear here,
unless they have guidance. If you will accept it, the world you live in is
only a shadow of this one, which is more 'real', for lack of a better
word."

     "It sure feels real," Jack began, shaking his head as if to clear it.
"Who are you?"

     "I am Aya'qa, an Elxa shaman who long ago shed my flesh. Now I am a
spirit, one of many who watch over the heron men, my spiritual descendants.
I am happy to claim you as one of them, my son. That is why you are here.
I wish to welcome you to the Elxa and let Basil know, through you, that he
did the right thing in bringing you to us."

     "Why can't you tell him that yourself?"

     "As Basil told you, his nature is too different. He cannot see or hear
his brothers who have passed beyond the life you know, which is sad, but it
is a fact we must all live with. So let him know the spirits of the Elxa
are still with him, and love him, as he loves his brother heron men."

     "I will... " Jack began, but stopped when Aya'qa reached out. His
fingers brushed through the hairs of Jack's beard, stirring and caressing
them sensuously.

     "You are a handsome man, my new brother... "

     Jack was surprised by how real the spirit's hand felt. He touched the
heron man in return, felt the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart.
Looking into the elder's eyes he saw a gentle desire sparkling in them. It
was not long before the pair were sharing their bodies in the tall,
fragrant grass, flattening a patch of it as they sensuously grappled and
sweated together under the ebullient sun that shone so joyously in the
perfectly blue sky. Afterwards, as he lay in Aya'qa's strong arms, slipping
back into slumber, Jack heard the Elxa spirit murmur.

     "Your love is strong, my brother, like Konxa, the mountain ram... "

* * *

     Jack did not know how much time had passed when he was awakened by a
whispered conversation. He lifted his head to see Fleur sitting by the
hearth at the center of the lodge, deep in conversation with a member of
the Elxa party Jack had noticed earlier. The man had been conspicuous
because of the women's garb he wore.

     Jack was familiar with the men who chose to dress so. Almost every
native band in the Oregon country - and beyond, or so he had heard - had
at least one berdache, a sort of cross-dressing shaman, credited with great
spiritual powers. And they, like Jack and Basil, were lovers of their own
sex.

     Jack attempted to eavesdrop on them, but the pair were speaking in the
tongue of the Elxa. So he made a great show of stretching and yawning to
let them know he was awake. Fleur and the berdache immediately turned to
face Jack.

     "This is Ikukua," the woman said as Jack rose from his blankets and
pulled on his pants. The berdache's eyes were as intent as Fleur's as they
studied Jack's lithe form. "She was hoping she could speak with you."

     "I'm honored by her visit," replied Jack, falling in with Fleur's
gender bending as he finished dressing and joined them by the fire. "Fleur,
do you have anything to eat?"

     "Of course."

     With those words, Fleur picked up a mallet, the stone head of which
was bound to its forked wooden handle with thin strips of rawhide. It
looked no less primitive than some tool a caveman might have used long ago.
In less time than it took to tell, she reached into the basket and yanked
out one of its inhabitants by its hind paws.

     Dragging the startled animal to the hearth at the center of the lodge,
she dispatched it with a swift blow to the head. With an expertise born of
long practice, she skinned and gutted the puppy, cut it up into small
chunks and dropped them into a pot of boiling water. It was not long before
dishes of seethed dog meat were served all around and devoured before the
eyes of the victim's siblings, who peered over the edge of their basket in
apparent dismay at the fate of their littermate.

     This was not the first time Jack had eaten dog meat, of course. It
was a staple of the country, commonly eaten by natives and white men alike,
like the buffalo, the antelope or the salmon. Indeed, some tribes
considered dog a delicacy, worthy of being served to honored guests. As
the trio finished the last of the surprisingly fat and succulent meat,
Ikukua set his dish aside and looked at Jack.

     "I had a medicine dream some nights ago," Ikukua began without any
preamble, switching easily to English, "and I believe it concerns you, so
I have come to see if it was so."

     "I'm not sure what I can tell you about your own dream," Jack puzzled,
stroking his beard.

     "I was told your last name is Ramsey. Is that so?"

     "Yes."

     "Ah. Then it may be so."

     "What?"

     "In my dream I saw Konxa, the big-horned sheep, standing in the
heights of his mountain domain, proud and majestic against the sky. Then
he came down from the cliffs and into our city, bringing his power to
dwell among us. And now you have come, a man whose name is like the animal
I dreamt of. I believe you have a great medicine to offer the Elxa. If you
like, your name among us shall be Takonxa, son of the mountain ram."

     "I'm flattered," Jack managed, remembering his medicine dream. Though
it meshed in part with Ikukua's, Jack did not want to repeat his erotic
encounter with Aya'qa in front of Fleur and decided to wait until he could
be alone with the berdache before telling it to Ikukua. "I hope I can live
up to your expectations," he finished instead.

     "I know you shall. My guiding spirits have shown it to me."

     "Ikukua says there will be a feast tonight," Fleur interjected.

     "In my honor?"

     "No." Ikukua began, deflating Jack's ego a bit. "It is to celebrate
our reunion with Hunts-by-night. He has been away from our city for almost
two moons."

     "Is that unusual?"

     "It used to be. But in the past few years, Hunts-by-night has begun
traveling more widely throughout the surrounding lands, from the coast to
the great dividing mountains far to the east. But he has not told us why.
Nor have our totems spoken regarding his actions when we have asked."

     Jack thought back to the things Basil had told him during the previous
evenings. About the changes he saw coming and the danger to the Elxa. He
guessed Basil was searching for a new home for the Elxa, one remote enough
to keep them out of the way of the coming white invasion he foresaw.

     "Do you know why he travels, Takonxa?" asked Ikukua.

     "Huh? Oh, no, not really," Jack managed.

     The metiff had been momentarily caught off guard by the question. But
at once Basil's voice came to whisper in his head, just as it had earlier
that day, cautioning Jack not to tell Ikukua about the vampire's fears for
the future of the Elxa. Jack obeyed the suggestion and continued
noncommittally.

     "I only know he was following me from Fort Vancouver, when we met two
nights ago."

     "What's going on in here? It looks like you're all holding a regular
powwow!"

     "Basil!" Jack exclaimed, as his friend entered the lodge. Beyond the
entrance flap Jack could see that night had fallen.

     "Hunts-by-night!" Ikukua echoed Jack's greeting, as they all stood up.
"It is good to see you again, my brother."

     "And you too, my friend." Basil hugged Ikukua and then Fleur. "Hello,
Fleur, how's little Marcus?"

     "He is very fine."

     "And you, Jack, how are you?" he asked, encircling the metiff's body
with his arms, giving Jack a much more intimate hug.

     "I can't complain. I've been well taken care of."

     "Indeed."

     "Ikukua says the Elxa are holding a feast in your honor tonight."

     "Would you give my regrets to Wolf-killer, Ikukua? I have other
concerns that I must see to."

     "Who is Wolf-killer?" Jack asked.

     "He shares the chieftainship of the heron men with Ikukua," returned
Basil. "He sees to the practical, everyday concerns of the tribe, leaving
Ikukua free to commune with the Elxa spirits and teach the younger men
about the Way of the Heron."

     Ikukua murmured something in the Elxa tongue, which Basil responded
to. Apparently satisfied, the berdache left. Gathering up her child, Fleur
exited as well to attend the feast, leaving Jack alone with Basil.

     "No, Jack, I'm not his father," Basil said once they had sat down.
"And Fleur's not my wife, though she keeps my lodge like one."

     "You read my mind," smiled Jack, wondering at the relief that he felt
upon hearing Basil's answers to his unspoken questions.

     "But still you would like to know who Fleur is and what she's doing
here, am I right?"

     "Yes," admitted Jack.

     "Fleur was the metiff wife of a friend of mine, Jules LaTour. Have you
ever heard of him?"

     "No."

     "Well, he was a traveling trader who was ambushed and slain by the
Blackfeet some six months ago. Fleur was expecting his child and I took her
in. She's been very grateful to me of course, even asking me to name the
little one."

     "For your old friend, Marcus."

     "Yes." The vampire hesitated a bit before going on. "I never mean to
pry into anyone's private thoughts, Jack, especially yours, but I cannot
help but read your curiosity about Fleur, and hers for you. If you two want
to make love, I have no objections. Indeed, I would encourage you to."

     "I... " Jack blushed.

     "Just as the Elxa believe that love is meant to be shared, I believe
that life is meant to be lived. Both are precious, and not to be wasted.
Sometimes I think that even all the centuries I have had are not enough for
the exploration of my human desires. Don't pass up any opportunities that
come your way, my friend."

     "I... alright," managed Jack, "but, have you... "

     "No, not with Fleur. I learned long ago that sex with women held none
of the enjoyment I find with men."

     "Oh."

     "Now on to other matters," Basil smiled. "By now you know that this
group is going on to the Rendezvous. I believe it is being held at Pierre's
Hole this year. I intended to accompany them, but not if you don't want
to."

     "Why, I'd like to go," Jack began. "But how can you travel with us?"

     "I won't, strictly speaking. I'll scout ahead by night and rest during
the day near the next campsite. You take charge of the horses and equipment
I took from the Paiutes for the trip, okay?"

     "Alright. Um, Basil?"

     "Yes?"

     "I had another medicine dream."

     "I know. I sensed you thinking about it. May I look into your mind and
see it?"

     "Sure. Part of it was a message for you."

     Basil stared silently at Jack for a few moments.

     "Thank you, Jack," he began, "I'm glad to know the spirits of the
heron men approve of you."

     "They do more than that, if you saw what Aya'qa and I did!"

     "Come," Basil chuckled, standing.

     He led Jack out of the lodge. They could see their fellow travelers
carousing within the natural fort, around a large fire. Yves was playing a
lively tune on a fiddle while others danced, throwing fantastic shadows on
the cyclopean stones that surrounded them. But Basil took his friend around
the edge of the steaming pond to a spot sheltered by overhanging rocks.
Blankets had been spread out at the place and Basil stripped off his
clothing and reclined upon them, beckoning for Jack to join him, which he
did.

     "If you're going to go on ahead of us... " began Jack.

     "We'll have time to be together tonight," Basil said, placing a hand
gently on Jack's bearded lips to quiet him, "and every night, during our
journey... " Basil replaced his fingers with his own lips and the night
wrapped itself protectively around the lovers.

* * *

     Early the next morning the Elxa party got underway. Jack was riding
Bristol, with the other three Paiute horses strung along on a lead rope
behind him, carrying saddle packs. Yves gave his cart, a Quebecois trader's
vehicle, known familiarly on the frontier as a 'mule killer', one last look
over and jumped into the driver's seat.

     "Avance donc!" he sang out, as he cracked his whip in the air above
the mules' hindquarters. Knowing what was expected of them, the sturdy
animals strained at their harness in unison. The cart rolled off, following
the native riders, led by Wolf-killer. Somewhere in advance, Xaculi and
Many Stars scouted ahead.

     Wolf-killer wore a unique garment with an air of one born to rule. It
was the pelt of a wolf that had been worked into a voluminous hooded cloak.
The sheer size of it astounded Jack.

     The monstrous beast that had once worn that skin had been unusually
huge, as large as a common sized buffalo! Jack had also heard the story of
how Wolf-killer had slain this demon wolf single handedly. The heroic deed
had entered Elxa legend and the tale had been repeated at the campfire the
night before.

     The journey south-southeastward across La Grande Vallee was a delight
for the senses. The camash root plants were in flower and the land the
party traversed seemed to be tinted blue by the countless blossoms, waving
in the wind. Altogether, the scene reminded Jack of what the ocean looked
like, when it was overcast by storm clouds.

     Also strewn along the way were the ivory bell-like blossoms of the
soapweed. Red loco weed blossoms and blue lupine added more color the land,
as did the occasional madrone, or strawberry tree. Its warm-colored bark
would hang from its trunk in shreds, looking as if the tree were peeling
from sunburn.

     Antelope were abundant, and a few buffalo and elk were spotted from
time to time as well. There was no danger of the Elxa party going hungry.
That is if Yves and Dan could somehow be prevented from scaring the game
away with their gay banter as they traveled along.

     The couple seemed to curse at the slightest provocation, filling the
air with calumnies of both Gallic and English flavor upon the land, their
animals, and each other. The rest of the Elxa seemed to find them as
amusing as Jack did. He would often catch snatches of their verbal
jousting.

     "Sacre enfant de garce, Dan!" Yves called to his lover. "Don't you
ride so far ahead of me! I can't see you!"

     "Then keep up with the rest of us, Yves!" Dan yelled back. "You son
of a skunk!"

     But despite all the adversarial sound and fury, Jack soon came to
realize they were a devoted couple. More than once in the nights
thereafter, the two men's noisy lovemaking, proof of their passion, would
wake him up. And Jack would smile to himself, thinking of Basil, and go
back to sleep.

     There were nights when the pair invited Jack to share their blankets,
and he accepted gladly. Yves and Dan were both experienced and attentive
lovers, but Yves was by far the more aggressive of the two. As Jack told
an amused Basil later, sleeping with the red headed voyageur was like
wrestling with a horny grizzly bear who pawed and kissed instead of clawed
and bit. Yves always left Jack exhausted from the struggle, but also very
satisfied.

     As the days passed and the party progressed into the valley of the
Snake River, the land became arid, with little more than a scattering of
scrubby bushes to cover the bare bones of its hills. Basil came to them
after each sundown bringing game, water and fodder for the animals from
beyond the barren zone. After giving his news of the road ahead to
Wolf-killer and the others, would seek out Jack and retire to some private
spot to talk and make love for a few hours before he would leave to scout
ahead to the next night's resting place. On one such evening, Jack could
tell something was bothering his friend and asked him what was wrong.

     "I'm not sure," Basil began, shaking his head. "It's almost as if I
can sense someone shadowing us, but no matter how hard I look, I can't
find a trace of anyone."

     "Maybe you're imagining it."

     "I don't think so. I've asked Wolf-killer to keep an extra sharp
lookout from now on."

     "I will too, then."

     "Good. I... "

     "Hssst!"

     Both men started and looked in the direction of the noise. They had
gone some distance away from the main camp's fire for privacy. Basil's
supernatural eyesight easily saw Dan approaching. The man was staying low,
as if he were afraid of being seen.

     "What is it?" Basil whispered.

     "Yves thinks there's someone out there," Dan pointed, away from the
camp and beyond where Basil and Jack sat. "His mules are acting like they
sense something in that direction."

     Jack recalled how canny the voyageur's mules had proved themselves in
the recent past. Whenever anything approached the Elxa's camps or resting
spots, the mules would invariably turn in the direction of the intruder,
holding their heads erect with their ears tilted forward, staying in that
fixed and attentive attitude until they knew what was coming. Until now,
they had only alerted the party to a stray coyote or two, but everyone
knew it was almost certain that they would run into a war party before
they reached the Rendezvous. At that time of the year, some warriors would
band together and try to steal any load of furs they could find from unwary
trappers on their way to the annual trading fair.

     After hearing Dan's report, Basil turned his head, as if distracted by
something. Jack peered into the darkness as well, but saw nothing. He was
about to ask what the matter was when Basil suddenly gasped and moved with
supernatural speed.

     As he did, Jack heard a zipping sort of noise, one he associated with
flying arrows. Even as he made the connection, Basil's hands shot out,
faster than any mortal eye could follow. In the dim light, Dan and Jack
could see the vampire had caught two arrows in mid-flight, stopping them
mere inches from the chests of his companions. A third arrow struck Basil
in his side, but the wound was only a mere annoyance to the vampire.

     "Get down!"

     As Basil unnecessarily ordered his comrades to take cover, he removed
the arrow from his ribs, leapt up and vanished into the night. The sounds
of voices raised in a violent struggle came to Jack as he and Dan crouched
behind a rock. Soon afterwards, some of the Elxa braves ran up to join
them, attracted by the commotion.

     Before Jack could fully explain what was going on, Basil returned.
There was blood on his crimson clothes, stains of a deeper red against the
dyed buckskin, but it was not his. Some horse thieves had chosen the wrong
party to molest, he told them. They would not be bothering anyone again.

     As the others went to find the bodies and deal with them, Basil sat
down with Jack again. He still seemed distracted though. As last he turned
to his lover.

     "This shouldn't have happened, Jack," he began. "I ought to have
sensed those raiders a mile away. I think it has something to do with
whatever it was I feel is following us. I think I'd better spend the rest
of the night patrolling the area, just in case."

     Jack agreed and they kissed before taking leave of each other.
Returning to the camp, Jack passed up an invitation to sit by the fire
and retired to Basil's lodge. Fleur was there, putting more wood on the
fire, and looked up the moment he entered.

     "I heard what happened. Are you hurt?"

     "No," Jack answered as he went to his blankets and began to strip.
"I'm okay, thanks to Basil."

     Fleur glanced at her son, who was sleeping peacefully.

     "I too have much to thank him for."

     Jack's hands were tugging at the knots that held up his pants as she
spoke. Something in her voice made him turn to look at Fleur. Their eyes
locked and they knew the time had come. The woman came over to Jack,
reaching up to loosen the knots at the shoulders of the garment of soft
skins she wore.

     Jack watched in fascination as she let the top part of her dress fall,
exposing her breasts. He reached out to touch them, wondering at their
fullness and warmth, as Fleur's fingers finished what his had begun. Jack's
pants fell and he stepped out of them as Fleur gently stroked his genitals.

     "You are a handsome man, Jack Ramsey... " she breathed.

     "Fleur... I... I've never done this before... with a woman I mean... "

     "Shhh. Lie down with me. We have all night... "

* * *

     Despite Basil's worries, the incident with the horse thieves proved
to be the only time the Elxa party was attacked as they continued on their
way to the Rendezvous. At one point, the group left off following the
Snake, to make a detour through a land of fir and cedar covered hills.
Many natural springs charged with carbonic acid gas bubbled and hissed to
the surface in that area, inviting the travelers to stop beside them and
drink the sparkling waters.

     Well known to the earliest inhabitants of that country, the first
trappers had given these natural wells names like Soda or Beer or Champagne
Springs. One of them, Boiling Spring, looked exactly as its name implied,
as bubbles roiled its surface. But the constantly troubled waters were
found to be delightfully cool and refreshing.

     One day they stopped for a noon rest beside a very large spring.
Finding that the overflow from it fell into a pond a short distance away,
Jack stripped and went in to cool off. As he sat under the downpour, Jack
heard splashing and looked to see who was causing it.

     Xaculi and Many Stars had joined him in the pool. Jack grinned at the
wood the pair were sporting, and soon he was in the same state. Knowing
they did not have a lot of time before the rest of the party was ready to
move on, they did not waste time, but got down to it.

     The pair of Elxa braves began to work on Jack in tandem. Jack
reciprocated their passion, all three giving and receiving at once. Jack
did what he could to pleasure the two lovers in return as they urged him
to stand up.

     Producing a bar of soap that Jack thought he recognized as belonging
to Dan and Yves, Many Stars washed Jack from the front, apparently
delighted as he ran his fingers through Jack's beard and tantalized his
hard nipples. Meanwhile, Xaculi lathered Jack's back. Then he slowly worked
his way down, murmuring as he did so.

     "I am glad to see you still have desire for your brothers, Takonxa,"
Xaculi grinned wryly as his fingers slipped into the hairy crack of Jack's
ass.

     "Yes," added Many Stars as he stroked Jack's soapy hardon. "Some of us
were worried that Fleur had turned you from us!"

     "No, no... " Jack gasped as he felt Xaculi's fingers probe and slicken
up his asshole. "It was different... good, but...  but the touch of men is
what I want... what I need... " Then Jack was silenced as the heron man
behind him eased his stiff prong into him.

     The initial pain of Xaculi's entry soon faded and the familiar
pleasure of being filled by another man soon overrode everything else. In
short order Jack found himself bent over, sucking on Many Stars' manhood
as Xaculi energetically road his ass. At length, Jack felt the small
explosion of warmth within him as Xaculi went past the point of no return
and blasted his innards with hot cum.

     The native had been stroking Jack's stiff cock as they fucked and
Xaculi quickly moved around to kneel in the pool and take the man's rampant
organ into his mouth. Xaculi slurped and licked, caressing with his tongue,
until he felt Jack's rod jerking as it began to spew thick pulses of slimy
goop down his gullet. As he swallowed the savory gouts of nutjuice, Xaculi
heard Many Stars growl and groan as he too went over the edge, feeding Jack
a man-sized mouthful of native seed.

     Soon all three were lying in the warm water together, exhausted,
satisfied and feeling close. Until another member of the party came looking
for them. Pulling their clothes on over damp skins they hurried to rejoin
the march to the Rendezvous.

     In the surrounding area there happened to be a great number of eagle's
nests. A few of the Elxa hunters climbed the trees and took a number of
young squabs. They were relished by everyone at dinner that evening.

     Everyone but Dan, that is. As an American citizen, he did not think it
right to eat his nation's symbol. His fellow heron men thought him quite
wise for not wanting to offend the spirit of his people's totem. But Yves
could not resist nettling his friend by asking for seconds and remarking at
length about what good eating the 'buzzards' made.

     The next day the group regained the valley of the Snake, making their
way closer to that year's Rendezvous site, a mountain vale called Pierre's
Hole. The night before they expected to arrive there, Basil appeared with
news of the trappers' gathering. After giving the Elxa his report, he took
Jack aside, leading him to a more private spot of their own. Jack was
looking forward to being alone with Basil that night and eagerly pulled
him down into their shared bed of blankets.

     "Jack... " Basil managed around his lover's kisses.

     "What?"

     "I want you to be careful at Rendezvous."

     "I've been there before," said Jack, a trifle indignantly. "I'm not a
greenhorn, you know."

     "Then you know that whiskey circulates more freely than is altogether
safe there, where every man carries guns and knives."

     "I can take care of myself."

     "There's more I have to tell you."

     "What?"

     "Jack," Basil said somberly. "McGyre is there."

     Hearing those words was like being dowsed with ice water. Jack had not
thought of his ex-lover for a long time, it seemed. And now here he was in
his life again, perhaps ready to end it...

     "Jack? Did you hear me?"

     "Yes. Clearly," answered Jack. "What do you want me to do? Not go?"

     "It's not for me to tell you what to do, Jack."

     "Well," Jack began, after thinking for a moment, "I'll have to face
him sooner or later. And you have to admit that it'd be better for me to
be the one who chooses the time and place."

     "Yes, that would be wise."

     "Did you see him yourself?"

     "Yes, I did."

     "Does he still want to kill me?"

     "He knows you're with the Elxa now, and that has him worried. He knows
how the heron men feel about people like him... "

     "Like him? What do you mean?"

     "Men like McGyre, who enjoy being with men, but only as long as they
can hide it, keep it quiet," Basil explained. "The Elxa hold such men in
utter contempt, and would gladly kill him for you if you asked them to."

     "No!" exclaimed Jack. "I mean, I can handle him myself."

     "Anyway," Basil went on, "he's afraid you might be after him now."

     "Good. Let him sweat for awhile."

     "Jack, are you sure you don't feel anything for him?"

     "Why should I? He wanted to kill me!"

     "True, but... "

     "But what?"

     "You two were very close once. That's not the sort of thing you can
forget about easily. I know."

     "You've been helping me to forget," Jack returned, reaching for his
lover, "and you ought to get back to work doing that, don't you think?"

* * *

     "I too wish for you to be careful, my brother," Aya'qa whispered in
Jack's dreams that night, as the Heron Spirit hovered silently in the
background, looking on. "There are more things to be wary of at Rendezvous
than just Robert McGyre... "

* * *

     The next day, once they reached the valley where the Rendezvous was
being held, the heron men set up camp at a site somewhat remote from it.
They wanted a modicum of privacy for themselves. What Jack wanted was to
go look for McGyre at once, but he was forced to take some chaperones with
him. Yves, Dan, Many Stars and Xaculi accompanied him as they dove into the
center of the activities.

     Though the Rendezvous was invented to solve a purely business problem,
that of bringing free trappers together with the agents of eastern fur
companies in order to exchange animal pelts for their value in supplies, it
soon became legendary for its magnificent excesses. For a few weeks of the
year, a city of tents would rise as if by magic in the wilderness. Then all
hell would break loose.

     It was a barbaric trade fair, as exotic as any bazaar from the Arabian
Nights, where Indians from both sides of the Great Divide, and white
trappers whose civilized veneers had long ago been stripped away, mingled
to barter their pelts for supplies. And, of course, liquor. It was the
crudest of alcoholic spirits, nicknamed 'popskull rum' by the trappers that
drank it, but it did its job.

     Steeped in this questionable brew, the men engaged in all manner of
improvised sports. A circus and a rodeo together could not compete with the
feats of horsemanship and trick shooting the trappers indulged in. And
neither could offer the kind of diversions served up by the lissome young
native girls who hung around the camp, selling their favors for fees as
scandalous as their behavior.

     Jack and his friends had not waded far into this fantastic frontier
bacchanal when Jack spotted McGyre. As Jack began to move towards him, with
the heron men trailing behind, McGyre saw Jack. Jack could tell his
erstwhile trapping partner had been drinking, for he blinked his bleary
eyes and stared at Jack as he approached without any change in expression.

     "Hello, Rob," Jack said evenly when they were face to face.

     "Jack?" McGyre managed at last. "Jack! Man, it's so good to see you
again!"

     The drunken trapper slapped Jack on the back affably and made more
comments that sounded like he was very pleased. But Yves and Dan exchanged
significant, knowing looks. Many Stars and Xaculi, for their part, did not
take their eyes off McGyre, ready for anything.

     Jack went along with McGyre's routine, joking and laughing. But he too
was studying the man closely. He was not about to forget what he had seen
and heard in the camp where he first met Basil.

     Eventually McGyre ran out of pleasantries and took his leave. But not
before he had wrung a promise from Jack to meet again. As soon as McGyre
was out of earshot, Dan spoke up.

     "He's the type of guy who'd dig up his grandmother's bones to make
jackknife handles!" he observed emphatically.

     "Oui," added Yves. "Queue le diable! That's one wicked snake in the
bush if I ever saw one!"

     "You mean 'snake in the grass'!"

     As Yves turned to curse his partner in French, Xaculi opened his mouth
to add his opinion about McGyre, but was distracted by a fresh commotion. A
horseman riding hell for leather galloped into the camp, raised a cloud of
dust as he reigned up to a group of trappers nearby and gasped out his
news. Whatever it was, it caused them to scatter, dashing to grab their
guns, mount their horses and take off, all of them heading south in a big
hurry.

     "Jack! Jack!" McGyre called, running up to him. "There's a group of
trappers being attacked by Atsina Indians south of here! We're all going to
help them! C'mon!"

     "This is not our fight," Many Stars observed.

     "I expected to hear something like that from a heathen redskin!" said
McGyre provocatively, emboldened by liquor. "But the you three," he said,
indicating Jack, Dan and Yves, "can't stand by idle and watch while white
men fight and die!"

     "Alright, I'll go," Jack said, as Yves and Dan nodded in agreement
with his decision.

     "And this redskin will also go," Xaculi added, looking straight into
McGyre's face, "to make sure you are in front of Jack when the shooting
starts, lest any of your bullets find his back!"

* * *

     When the reinforcements from the Rendezvous reached the battlefield,
they found the Atsina warriors had taken their stand in a boggy willow
thicket. The commander of the trappers had been wounded and was directing
the battle while propped up against a convenient tree while a friend
treated his wounds. In the course of the fighting, Jack was separated
from his companions.

     A frontal assault on the Atsina defenses failed and the trappers had
to withdraw with several casualties. Over the din of battle, Jack heard
Xaculi calling to him. He looked and saw the Indian was gesturing
frantically. Jack turned his head in the direction Xaculi seemed to be
indicating and his heart almost stopped.

     A trapper was down, wounded near the Atsina front line. Already the
savages were hauling him behind their defenses. Jack knew what that meant,
a slow death at the hands of the Atsina women, who would butcher him alive
with their skinning knives.

     Xaculi made another motion that Jack recognized as the name-sign the
Elxa had given his ex-lover, McGyre. Then he pointed emphatically at the
doomed man. Jack gasped.

     It was McGyre they were dragging away to a grisly death! Jack never
knew if it was some spark of love he still held for the man or pity that
moved him then. Without thought he jumped up from his cover and fired,
vainly trying to stop what he knew could not be stopped by any power on
earth.

     Almost at the same instant a world of pain exploded in his left side.
Jack was flung violently to the ground, as if from the kick of a mule. The
confused sounds of the battle died away, as if it had been muted, but Jack
could still see puffs of smoke coming from the rifles and the contorted
faces of the men working their jaws as they cried out quietly. He wondered
how this could be.

     Jack remembered little after that. He had a vague impression of Many
Stars and Xaculi carrying him from the battlefield on an improvised litter.
As it happened, he watched the clouds drifting above him in a perfectly
blue sky, drifting along in silence, like him. Then he saw only one small
spot of blue, surrounded by the converging poles of an Indian lodge.

     Darkness came and went. Jack soon realized he was lapsing in and out
of consciousness. When his eyes closed, he saw the Heron Spirit and Aya'qa.
He found he could hear clearly again as those two began to talk to him.

     The Heron Spirit promised Jack his protection if he wanted to let go,
leave his broken body and enter the realm of the godling, a place were the
spirits of gentle man-loving men could continue in peace and happiness.
Jack welcomed the offer, but could not go, not yet. He held on to his life
stubbornly, waiting for nightfall so he could say farewell to his lover,
knowing Basil would never hear or see him as an Elxa spirit.

     When he was aware he saw worried faces that hovered over his: Many
Stars, Xaculi, Ikukua, Fleur, Yves, Dan, Wolf-killer. They were speaking,
their mouths moved, but Jack could only hear their words faintly. And the
pain was distracting, constant and unending. It came and went with a
terrible, tidal regularity. Time was marked for him by this painful
pulsing as Jack watched the spot of blue above him deepen into a pure
indigo and then a star-flecked black.

     'Jack.'

     At last, another voice he could hear! But confusingly, it buzzed
strangely in his head, like a lazy bee bumping up against the insides of
his skull. It sounded again.

     'Jack, it's Basil. Speak to me.'

     'Basil... Basil?'

     Jack responded to his lover without speaking, for he could not seem
to move his lips. He focused on the vampire's face, seeing something was
wrong. There was blood on his cheeks.

     As he looked closer, he realized Basil was shedding bloody tears.
They dropped from his eyes and discolored his handsome beard. Jack wanted
to reach up and wipe them away, but for some reason he found he could not.

     'You are badly hurt, Jack. If we do nothing, you will die.'

     'I once told you I'd stay with you as long as the changing world
allowed,' Jack reminded him. 'I'm just glad that I could last long enough
to say goodbye, my love. Now I can go... the Heron Spirit has promised to
take me to his world... a place you cannot see... I promise I will watch
over you from there... '

     'Jack, Jack! We don't have to say goodbye! You know that. Tell me you
want to live and I'll give you eternal life!' Basil's thoughts carried his
anguish plainly to Jack.

     'Your 'immortal kiss'? I... Ahh!'

     A wave of pain coursed through Jack's broken body and Basil felt it
like a burst of mental static that cut off the wounded man's thoughts. The
pain caused Jack to waver on the edge of consciousness. He saw the Heron
Spirit again, and Aya'qa as well, both looking expectantly at him.

     "If you accept Basil's offer, you will never see us directly again, my
son," warned Aya'qa. "Only through others' thoughts will you know us."

     "I want to stay with Basil," Jack replied. "I promise I'll help him
protect your tribe anyway I can."

     "Be my defender then, Jack, in the physical world," the Heron Spirit
almost sang in its flutelike voice. "And I shall continue to protect you
and your brothers from the spirit realm."

     Before Jack could respond, the pain abated. He came to himself and
looked at Basil. His lover went on, unaware of Jack's momentary medicine
vision.

     'The world can go on changing, but we can stay together, always.'

     'How can you say that? What happened to Marcus? Where is he now?'

     'I don't know, Jack. I only know I'm losing you and I don't want that
to happen!'

     'What if I go mad? I don't want to become like Cedric. Promise me you
won't let me live like that.'

     'I promise,' Basil said, holding his sword before Jack's eyes as a
pledge of his word. 'But there is another problem. I have to try and heal
your body. It would be truly inhuman to make you a vampire as you are now,
with a body so crippled you would not be able to survive on your own.'

     'But how... '

     'It was one of the first lessons Marcus taught me. I told you about
it. Do you remember?'

     'Marcus healed the bite marks on your first victim's neck with his
blood,' Jack recalled, 'but you said my injuries were so bad... '

     'I know. It will take a lot of my blood to heal you. I was afraid I
wouldn't have enough left to transform you. But that's not a problem now.'

     'Why?'

     'Because another will give you the final blood.'

     'Who?'

     'Remember my discomfort as we traveled here? It was because I felt the
presence of an old friend of mine as she shadowed us. How she knew I would
need her help, I don't know, but the Councilor is here, now.'

     'The Councilor... '

     'First though, I have to try and heal your body.'

     As Basil said that, he sliced one of his wrists open with the heirloom
sword he carried and let the blood fall onto Jack's injuries. Jack became
aware of an itchy feeling playing in his side. Somehow - was it the magic
in Basil's blood? - Jack found the strength to move again and reached out
tentatively with one hand to explore the spot Basil was pouring his blood
out upon.

     His questing fingers were shocked by the feel of a gaping wound, the
sharp ends of broken ribs and a concavity suggestive of massive tissue
loss. Dimly Jack realized an old fashioned musket ball, with the caliber of
a small cannon, must have shattered the ribcage on that side of his body.
It was a miracle he had not died on the spot. But already the damage done
to him seemed to be healing even as he felt it.

     Jack could feel the slickness of Basil's blood as it fell between his
fingers and was absorbed into the tissues of his shredded organs as they
regenerated and swelled to fill the hole in his side. At least he could
until the shattered ribs knitted and reborn muscles covered them. Within a
short time he felt smooth, unbroken skin spread across his side. But Jack
was still extremely weak. Basil's actions had not replaced the blood he had
lost, nor done anything to stem the host of deadly infections that had set
in and were already working assiduously to kill Jack.

     Seeing there was nothing more he could do, Basil turned away and a
woman's face appeared above Jack's. It was too perfect, her skin. Smooth,
very pale and almost luminous in the gloom of the Indian lodge, making her
look like a marble sculpture in moonlight. Her strange eyes, with pupils
shaped like an X, showed that she was no statue though. The Councilor
fixed her mysterious orbs on Jack and her thoughts sounded solemnly in his
mind.

     'I will give you my blood now, Jack, and a new life with it, so you
and Basil can continue to be together. This I do so you can both survive.'

     Even as Jack wondered why this mysterious, archaic being would care
about his and Basil's happiness, she lowered herself to Jack's throat and
he felt the sharp pain of her fangs breaking his skin. Over her shoulder
he could see Basil watching and felt his lover's hand gripping his, silent
and comforting. Much sooner than he had expected, Jack felt what little
strength he had left draining away, along with his lifeblood.

     As his heart flagged, thumping dully on the very edge of death, the
Councilor drew away. Borrowing Basil's sword, she cut her wrist and let her
blood drip onto Jack's lips. His first attempt to move his tongue and force
the muscles of his throat to swallow seemed to be the hardest thing Jack
had ever done.

     But in that instant he felt something incredible thunder throughout
his body, resonating in his flesh and sinews and bones. The mystery smote
Jack's faltering heart and it strengthened at once, commencing to beat to
a new rhythm. One that seemed to do more than just circulate blood. It
began to generate an almost magical energy, a force that quickened his
numbed form.

     It gave him the strength to reach up for the Councilor's wounded
wrist, grasp it hard and press it to his mouth. Her blood flowed into Jack
and he drank the burning savor, feeling his heart's new rhythm strengthen
and spread. Feeling returned to his arms and legs, and his mind cleared.
But as this transforming force penetrated deeper to affect his vital
organs, the Councilor wrenched her wrist from his grasp.

     "Enough," she shuddered. Jack remembered the pain Basil had told him
of, when he gave his blood to Cedric, and forced himself not to try and
take more of the Councilor's blood, though he wanted to, desperately. She
knew his thoughts and nodded in sympathy. Though she said nothing, Jack
caught the vaguest intimation of regret from her, at having created another
hungry hunter of humankind.

     Jack had no time to dwell on that as Basil helped his lover up from
his fouled blankets, stiff with dried gore, threw another clean one over
him and led him out to a nearby stream. No one else was around and Jack
fell naked into the icy water, hardly noticing any discomfort as he washed
himself. When he waded to the bank, he found Basil waiting with his clothes.

     'How do you feel?' Basil asked mentally, his thought-words carrying an
anxious concern as they sounded in Jack's mind.

     "Different. Thirsty." Jack replied aloud as he quickly pulled on his
clothing. Though the desire for blood burned in him, it did not stop a sly
look from creeping across his face, and he added, "Crazy."

     "What?" Basil flinched.

     "About you," he grinned, embracing his lover.

     Basil laughed out loud and returned the hug.

     "Hold on," he said, rising into the air.

     "Where are we going?"

     "The Atsina camp," answered Basil. "I figure those bastards owe you a
meal, seeing as they nearly killed you!"

* * *

     Once Jack's newborn thirst had been appeased, the pair returned to the
Elxa encampment. They found the Councilor waiting for them some distance
away. They approached her, feeling great gratitude.

     "Madam," began Basil respectfully, "I don't know how to thank you."

     "Once, long ago, I told you that in time I would find a way for you to
repay me. Do you remember?"

     "Of course. And now I am doubly in your debt," Basil said, taking
Jack's hand. Both vampires could feel his love for Jack like a warm fire, a
comforting thing to be near. "Has the time for repayment come at last?"

     "Perhaps. Come with me," she said, holding out her arms as if she
intended to embrace the pair. "There are a couple of things I want to show
you both."

     Jack felt something he could not see wrapping itself around his body.
From Basil's surprised expression he could tell the same thing was
happening to his friend. The Councilor rose into the air and the two men
came with her, supported by the power of her mind as she flew to the west
with a velocity that amazed Jack.

     Despite the speed she attained through the air, the force that upheld
her companions also acted as a shield against the wind, allowing them to
comfortably see where they were going. The Snake River valley flew by
beneath them, then La Grande Vallee and the arid plateaux of central
Oregon. At last the icy spine of the southern Cascades came into view.

     As they swerved around the massive flank of one particularly tall and
sharp peaked, snow-capped mountain, an idyllic highland valley on its
western side came into view. Further to the west they could see the calm
surface of a broad lake, silvered by moonlight. The Councilor glided easily
to a hovering stop and pointed to the mountain they had just passed.

     "The coastal Indians call that mountain Zoraxte. This land, bounded on
the east by the mountains and the west by a large lake, is fertile, teeming
with game and quite isolated. The Elxa should find it admirably suited to
their needs."

     "If it's all you say it is, then it's exactly what I've been searching
for!" Basil exclaimed, taking in the scenery.

     "Now that you know where it is, you can return some other time for a
closer inspection," she told him. "Come, there's more I want to show you."

     Again, the force of the Councilor's mind transported them all swiftly
across the sky. Within only a few minutes, they landed on a hill
overlooking a Spanish mission, not far from the ocean. She began walking
towards it and her companions followed. Two dark-robed monks stood sentry
by the gate, or rather snored there. Basil frowned at the indolent friars'
lack of discipline and the Councilor responded to his unspoken thoughts.

     "Do not blame them, Basil," she began as the group entered the
compound and made their way to the darkened chapel, "I put them to sleep
as we approached. A useful talent at times, as you well know."

     Basil nodded and looked around the courtyard of the mission. "I
recognize this place," he began as he and Jack followed the ancient
vampire into the church building. "This is the mission of San Tomas."

     "But you haven't been here lately, I take it?" asked the Councilor
as she glanced at some nearby candles and lit them with the pyrotic power
of her mind.

     "No, I haven't been in this part of California for years."

     "Then this ought to be a surprise to you," she began as she easily
moved a heavy iron candlestand closer to one decorated wall and gestured
at the picture upon it. "This was recently painted by a wandering Italian
artist, or so the brothers here told me."

     The light revealed a wall painting. It showed a fairly standard
religious scene, of the type one would expect to find in a church. Jack
was no judge of art, so he looked to Basil to tell him if the painting
was good or not. But from Basil's expression he could tell something was
wrong.

     "You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

     "He has, Jack," smiled the Councilor.

     "Is it possible?" Basil managed at last, turning to her.

     "Oh yes."

     "What are you talking about?" asked Jack.

     "I've seen painting in that style before," Basil explained, "in the
basilica of St. Matthew!"

     "I remember, that was part of your life story. But then, that must
mean... "

     "Correct," the Councilor murmured. "Marcus' former master was here."

     "The rogue... " breathed Jack.

     "Why?" Basil asked.

     "You both are on similar missions. You seek a new home for the Elxa
and he is searching for a new refuge also."

     "Here?!"

     "There are no more isolated places left in Europe where he can hide,"
she explained, "so he has come to the New World."

     "Who is this vampire?" Jack asked.

     "If I told you more, he might sense it in your thoughts and learn of
me through you. And I cannot have him know that I am following him, not
yet. Trust me, Jack, I mean no one ill, but I cannot explain my plans to
you or Basil, not yet. Besides, you have work of your own to do, helping
your Elxa friends move to the valley I showed you. Once you have done this,
then we will meet again and speak further of what I expect from you."

* * *

     The Councilor returned Basil and Jack to the Rendezvous. The men
thanked her again and left to talk to Wolf-killer. There would be much to
plan and do before the Elxa would be ready to move to the valley they had
been shown. And there was much for Basil to teach Jack concerning his new
vampyric nature before the dawn broke.

     "I still think this is foolishness," a harsh male voice said from the
shadows behind the Councilor, watching Basil and Jack walk happily away,
hand in hand, and into what promised to be an eternal relationship of love
and trust.

     "Don't be such a grump," she gently chided as she turned to face her
barbarous companion, the green man Basil had met long ago. "I've already
explained to you how advantageous it would be for us to have allies."

     "But they don't even know what we expect of them!" he objected. "And
one of them is a mere fledgling!"

     "A fledgling with my blood in him, don't forget that," the Councilor
returned. "Jack's abilities will be formidable, far more developed than the
average fledgling. Besides, they don't have to know anything, for the time
being."

* * *

     After hearing Basil's news, Wolf-killer saw to it that the heron men
concluded their business at Rendezvous quickly and returned to their old
stronghold. They were eager to begin planning their migration to the new
sanctuary. Jack wondered at this when he heard of it, but soon learned that
the tribe's guardian spirits had spoken to many in medicine dreams, warning
the Elxa of the very things Basil was concerned about, though they did not
mention that Basil was searching for a new refuge.

     As Basil had feared, the spirits predicted a time very soon when La
Grande Vallee would become a veritable thoroughfare for the white race.
Thousands upon thousands of them would push through it into Oregon. At that
time, Jack could not conceive of it, but he later came to learn that a
section of the great Oregon Trail had been established through the very
heart of the Elxa's lands.

     As they traveled back, Basil taught Jack more about his new nature.
Jack learned to move without making noise or being seen. They encountered
more war parties during that journey and Jack helped subdue them. In the
process he learned he had little to fear any more from mortals or their
weapons.

     Ikukua led Jack through the Elxa rite of initiation, but like Basil,
Jack neither saw nor heard spirits. He experienced them only through the
mental imagery of his fellow heron men, seeing the memories of their own
medicine dreams. But Jack was already convinced of the spirits' reality.
His encounters with the Heron Spirit and Aya'qa were memories Jack
treasured.

     Jack was glad to find that his transformation did not frighten his
Elxa friends. Unlike most mortals, they knew what Basil and Jack were, and
accepted it, knowing they would not harm the heron men and that the
vampires' man-loving spirits were bonded to theirs in tribal brotherhood.
They also knew Basil and Jack had become more truly a couple, bonded by
their similar natures, and were happy for them, but that did not stop any
of the tribesmen from sharing their bodies freely with them.

     The last night of the trek, when they were only a day's travel away
from the Elxa's hidden city, Basil led Jack to the lodge Fleur kept, saying
he had another lesson to teach. Jack felt a little guilty, for he had
avoided Fleur since his dark rebirth. Jack had caught stray thoughts from
her that told Jack she loved him, but as a man-lover Jack knew he could
never return that love in a way that would make her truly happy. And Jack
was all too aware that he was no longer a man, which was what Fleur needed.

     "Jack," Basil began quietly as they stopped outside the lodge, "look
inside with your mind, look at Fleur, and tell me what you see."

     Jack did as Basil asked, a little relieved that he did not have to
confront Fleur directly. Jack sent his thoughts ahead of him and saw the
interior, lit by firelight. Fleur was asleep, little Marcus by her side.

     "They are sleeping," Jack murmured.

     "Look closer," urged Basil. "Listen."

     Jack concentrated. Slowly he realized something was not right about
Fleur. Jack looked at Basil in concern.

     "Is Fleur ill?"

     "No," Basil smiled, reaching to embrace his lover. He held Jack
lovingly and whispered in his ear. "Can you not hear their heartbeats?"

     "Four!" Jack gasped after listening intently for a few seconds. "I
can hear four hearts beating inside the lodge! But how can that be?"

     "You are going to be a father, my love," Basil smiled. "Two little
ones are growing in Fleur's womb, the fruit of the seed you sowed there
before we reached the Rendezvous."

     Jack was too shocked to respond.

     "Oh my love," Basil all but wept, "I am so happy! I will love and
cherish them as if they were my own, as much as you will."

     "Of course... "

     Basil caught his companion's troubled thoughts and sobered. Jack would
love them, of course, it would be an easy thing to do, but was it enough?
For the first time Jack fully realized that he was a dead thing, utterly
and permanently removed from the life these innocents would have. Basil
objected at once.

     "No, Jack, it doesn't have to be like that. Our intellects can help us
rise above our limitations. We can live, even though we are what we are.
Especially with mortals like the heron men. Their friendship, their love,
has sustained me for two centuries. It can sustain you too, if you give it
a chance."

     "I will. It's just that, before this, I was thinking Fleur needed a
man, a mortal lover."

     "I see." Basil released him, looking thoughtful. "You're right, of
course."

     "I respect Fleur. My children will never lack for anything as long as
I live. But I love you, Basil. You are the one I want to build a life with,
or as close to a life as two vampires can have."

     "Yes. I want that too, Jack." Basil said, kissing him. "But what of
Fleur?"

     "I know a man at Fort Vancouver, a close friend, who likes to lie with
both men and women. The heron men and he will get along well, and I know he
would take care of Fleur and her children. I'll go and see him soon about
this."

     Basil looked into Jack's mind. It took only a few seconds for him to
scan his lover's thoughts about the man in question, a blacksmith whose
skills would be welcome among the Elxa. He nodded in agreement.

     "I will go and patrol the area. I'll be back soon."

     Basil rose into the air and flew off. Jack turned and scanned the camp
with his mind, checking to see that everything was alright. He smiled to
himself as he touched two minds in particular.

     He went to the edge of the camp. He needed no light to see the spot
where two mules grazed peacefully next to a small wagon. Blankets were
spread out beneath it and two men lay there, holding each other as they
came down from a shared bout of sex.

     "Who's there?" one challenged as Jack came closer.

     "It's me, Jack."

     "Jack! Join us!"

     "I was hoping you'd invite me," Jack smiled, stripping and crawling in
between Dan and Yves, who hugged him lovingly from both sides.

     The men fell easily into a bout of three way sex. But Jack thought he
would try something new, a mind trick Basil had shown him. Jack knew Yves
preferred to dominate his partners and surprised him with a taste of
something totally opposite.

     Jack had mounted Yves and was fucking the man while Dan straddled the
red furred chest and fed Yves his hard cock. Jack closed his eyes and sent
Yves a vision. The man gasped.

     Suddenly, it seemed to Yves, he was bound with silk cords to a plush
bed, face down and spread-eagled. His heron brothers stood all around,
fisting their hard pricks, looking at Yves, their eyes glazed over with
untrammeled lust. Dan stepped forward and plugged Yves' mouth with his
cock.

     As he began to suck hungrily on his partner's tool, the others moved
at last. One after another they took turns mounting Yves' ass and riding it
hard, shooting their hot sperm into the man as he twisted helplessly in his
bonds, unable to stop the gang bang. But Yves was shocked by the
realization that he did not want to escape, that he enjoyed what was
happening to him.

     Jack was the last one to take his pleasure with Yves and as he shot
off, the vision dissolved. Yves found himself free again, back under the
cart, his mouth filling with a spouting, spurting charge of Dan's creamy
cum, a liquid that rushed and choked, repeating itself with every movement
of Yves' lips and tongue. He also felt Jack thrusting hard, driving his
spasming manhood deep into Yves, and the unique sensation of being filled,
pumped full of the man's seed.

     "Jack," Yves gasped as the sated pair rolled off of him to lie on
either side, "what... what did you do to me... "

     "I planted an illusion in your mind. It was something Basil taught me.
I know I should have asked you if I could, first. I'm sorry if I frightened
you."

     "No, I... I liked it... "

     "What did you see?" Dan asked. Yves told him. Dan looked at Jack.

     "What an imagination you have! I hope you'll do that to me sometime.
I'm sure I'll like it more than Yves did!"

     "Don't be too sure of that," muttered Yves, surprising his lover.

     "Oh." Jack breathed, turning his head away and looking out into the
darkness.

     "What is it?"

     "Basil is calling me. I have to go."

     "Oh. Well, thanks for stoppin' by. We enjoyed it," Dan winked.

     "Not as much as you'll enjoy this," vowed Yves as he turned Dan over,
greased his ass and sank his ready shaft into his lover's body.

     As the sounds of their energetic coupling filled the air, Jack put his
clothes on and went to Basil.

     "Is everything alright?"

     "Yes. I was just playing with Dan and Yves."

     "I know," grinned Basil. "Shall we go? Or are there others you want to
make love to before the night is over?"

     "Well, you too, of course," Jack chuckled. "Where are we going?"

     "To my home in the Elxa's city. Our home, now." Basil smiled. "I've
spoken to Wolf-killer. The party won't need our protection anymore, now
that we're this close to home."

     Basil opened his arms. Jack willingly embraced his man. Then Basil
rose from the ground.

     They did not fly very far. Jack saw an upthrust of stone rising
abruptly from the grassy prairie, its face much worn by erosion. There
were great gaps in the rock, one of which, Jack knew by then, led to a
hidden, spacious canyon and the secret refuge of the heron men within it,
an abode cliff dwelling.

     But Basil did not head for any of the gaps. He landed at the foot of a
sheer cliff. When Jack looked at him in puzzlement, Basil gestured upwards.

     "Can you see it?"

     Jack looked up. He made out a patch of darkness high above where they
stood. It seemed roughly rectangular in shape.

     "It's the 'back door' to my home." Basil explained. "Do you think you
can jump up to it?"

     Jack tried. His first attempt ended a few feet shy of his goal. But
on the second try, Jack made it, gripping the edge. He pulled himself up
easily and stood.

     He found himself at the beginning of a tunnel. Jack peered into its
black recesses. Then Basil floated up to the opening behind him.

     "Follow me," he said, taking the lead.

     After a double hairpin turn that baffled any daylight from the
outside, the tunnel ran straight on into a fair sized room. Basil glanced
at some candles and they lit.

     Jack saw a spartan chamber. A bed to one side, a desk on the other.
Books were stacked along the walls, lots of books.

     Jack picked one up at random and found it was a journal, written by
Basil, whose handwriting Jack recognized. Under the heading '1680' Jack
found a list of the notable things that had happened that year to the
Elxa. They included the arrival of six new men, refugees from an native
rebellion in New Mexico, who joined the tribe.

     He put the journal down and selected another at random. Opening it to
the year 1772 he read: '...this year, at the great age of 102, the mighty
shaman Blue Badger, born Denys de Ulloa, passed from this world into the
spirit realm. His medicine was powerful and he understood many mysteries of
the supernatural. He walked in the Way of the Heron with a spiritual
strength that few have ever achieved and wielded the mystic might of the
Sky-Spear and Bluefang easily and with great wisdom. He is already sorely
missed by his heron brothers.'

     "I have been chronicling the history of the Elxa since I began living
with them," Basil said, caressing Jack's shoulders.

     "What are the Sky-Spear and Bluefang?"

     "They are powerful totems of the Elxa, handed down from a time long
before I joined the tribe. I'll tell you the legends associated with them
sometime," replied Basil. "By the way, be careful of the hole over there."

     Jack looked where Basil indicated and saw an opening in the floor.

     "That leads to another room below us, which can only be reached
through another light baffling corridor, that leads into the Elxa's hidden
city."

     "I see," Jack said as he put the journal down and glanced around.
"What's that?"

     A folded piece of paper had been left standing on Basil's desk. It
looked like a small tent, set atop a number of other papers. Basil was
puzzled as he picked the paper up and scanned it. A look of shock abruptly
spread across his face.

     "Jack," he whispered urgently. "Use your mind! Listen! Do you feel a
presence here? Like that of the Councilor?"

     "No," answered Jack after several tense moments. In that short period,
he had touched many minds in the Elxa's city and seen it for the first time
through their eyes, but felt nothing like what he had in the Councilor's
presence. "What's wrong? What's in that letter?" Jack asked. Basil began to
read from it.

     "'To Basil Anicius and his new fledgling: The Councilor thinks she is
very clever, but I know of her spying, just as I have long known of your
sojourn among the Elxa. I could threaten you both with death, to prevent
you from joining with her, but I am not a violent man at heart. So instead
I give you a peace offering, something that I hope you will find very
interesting.'" Basil raised his eyes to Jack's. "It's signed 'the Rogue'."

     "Him!?"

     As Jack exclaimed, Basil turned to look at the other papers. Jack
waited as Basil read through them. At last Basil lifted his eyes to his
lover. His expression was pained.

     "He says he knows where Marcus was last seen. It's all here, detailed
directions to guide me to where he was. By God, if he's lying to me,
I'll... " Basil paused and looked at Jack, seeing his thoughts. "Yes,
you're right. The Rogue would have nothing to gain by lying about
something so important to me." He looked at the papers again. "As soon as
we have finished helping the Elxa to move, I will go and see if I can find
Marcus."

     "Where is he supposed to be?"

     "In China, in a city called Foochow."

     "I'll go with you." Jack vowed at once.

     "You don't have to... "

     "Yes I do, because I love you."

     They kissed gently. As it ended, Jack felt an odd sensation. He
glanced towards the tunnel. He did not know why, but Basil did.

     "Come, my love," he said as he stripped off his clothes and went to
lie on his bed. Jack followed suit and allowed himself to be gathered into
Basil's strong embrace. "You feel the dawn approaching. Let me hold you
like this, safely in my arms, in the dark, until another night calls to
us."

* * *

     At that point, the scene faded into gray and vanished, leaving Asa,
Zack and Eben where they had begun, sitting at the cabin's single table
and looking in astonishment at Jack. He returned their gazes calmly.
Finally, Asa spoke.

     "I don't know what to say."

     "I do," said Eben, getting up and going to Jack. The vampire arose in
uncertainty, until Eben embraced him. "Welcome home, brother."

     The others quickly echoed the sentiment, touching Jack deeply. He
wiped away a bloody tear that had formed from one eye as he thanked them.
Then Zack asked a question, voicing the curiosity they shared.

     "Did Basil ever find Marcus?"

     "And what did the Councilor want with the Rogue?"

     "That's another story, my friends," Jack murmured. "And I'll have to
leave soon." A glance out the windows told them the night was waning. "But
I can show you a little of our wanderings."

     "Great," said Asa, as the others took their seats again.

     "We have to skip ahead a couple of years, after Basil and I helped
lead the Elxa to the valley of the heron and assisted while the tribe
settled there." Again the familiar foglike gray surrounded Jack's
listeners, opening their minds' eyes upon a moonlit seashore.

     Basil stood on the beach near the town of Port Bolon, gazing out to
sea. The sun had only just set and he was waiting. Soon his preternatural
hearing told him Jack had risen from his daytime resting place and was
coming to him.

     "It's not too late to change your mind about coming with me," Basil
said over his shoulder, without looking at his lover as Jack approached
him from behind. "We both know your friend Jakob would be more than happy
to love and take care of you for me while I'm gone."

     "He's going to be busy taking care of Fleur and her children," began
Jack, "not to mention running his new forge in False Pass. And I want to
come with you."

     "Then let us go and hunt now. I must be at full strength when we leave
here, if I am to fly across the Pacific with you, and stay ahead of the
sun, which will be chasing us."

     The scene faded and Jack's voice spoke to his fellow heron men through
a series of images that took its place, things he had witnessed. "We
crossed the Pacific in a single night, without incident, and came to the
coast of China, just to the north of the great port city of Foochow. We
met a remarkable mortal there, named I Fei, who knew what we were and was
not afraid of us. We also searched the city and found others of our kind.

     "None of them were as old as Basil, but they knew of Marcus through
old legends. It seemed as if he had come to China a long time before and
done some deed that made him notorious among his fellow vampires, though
no record of his adventures remained. His exact whereabouts were not known
either, so Basil and I set off to search for him."

     "So," Asa began after the images of distant China had passed. "Did you
ever find Marcus?"

     "No. We wandered the East for nearly forty years, following vague
clues and encountering more vampires, but we found no trace of Marcus
himself. Finally I grew weary of the search and decided to return to
Oregon. As far as I know, Basil is still in China, looking for Marcus."
Jack sighed. "Basil told me I would find no rest in our former home, but
I went anyway."

     "We'll do whatever we can to help you feel at home here, Jack," Eben
vowed, reaching over to take his hand.

     "You'll need a safe place to stay during the daytime," began Zack.
"Our home has a small cellar. We can enlarge it, make it more livable.
And with two werebeasts to guard you, it'll be very secure!"

     "Thank you, but I believe our old lair here still exists. I'll go and
see if I can still use it."

     Asa started to ask where that was, but stopped himself. Jack smiled at
the man.

     "Sooner or later you'll find out where I sleep, since it happens to be
so close to your home. There's more than one cave in the area where Falling
Star lives, you know."

     "Oh."

     "I should see the shaman as well, let him know I've returned, if he
doesn't know it already. Though I can't see them, the spirits around here
are probably in an uproar at my return!"

     "They're as happy as we are about it Jack, I'm sure." smiled Eben.

     "And I ought to go and do that now," Jack said, glancing out the
window at the night sky, judging the time by the position of the stars.

     "Well, come back and see us whenever you feel like it," invited Eben.
"People like us need to stick together."

     "Yes," Zack added. "You can help us protect our home, just as
Hunts-by-night did."

     "I intended to do that if I stayed. And I'll be glad to have your
help. Thank you," Jack said as he got up. "That means a lot to me."

     "Do you want us to keep your return a secret?" asked Zack.

     "I think," Jack began after a moment's reflection, "it would be all
right to let the Elxa know that Hunts-by-night has returned. Since I'll be
doing Basil's job, I might as well take his name, at least until Basil
comes back, if ever."

     "We'll let the others know. And visit us again," Eben added as Zack
and Asa nodded their approval.

     "Goodbye, my friends. We'll meet again."

     Without a sound, Jack vanished from before their eyes. Only the open
door of the cabin marked his leaving. All the three men could see beyond
it was the night sky, sparkling with an eternity of stars.

* * *

THE END

* * *

of The Saga Of Hunts-by-night

the ninth story in the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org 1/23/2009