Sounds on the other side of the drapes drew her 
attention and she peeked through the heavy lace. He 
was here finally. She smiled, sweet pink lips curling 
up in a delightful manner. Oh she was pleased so very 
pleased. It was a stroke of good fortune that she?d 
decided to visit St. Louis.  She'd heard about one 
Anita Blake, and as the time was drawing near, she had 
decided finally to investigate. She'd been at a club 
when she'd seen him, and felt the pull. She smiled 
again, what wonderful luck, and he'd been so easy to 
take. A pity that, she faced so few real challenges 
these days. Still, now she had him, and she was going 
to make very good use of him. It was unfortunate what 
she had learned upon her arrival. Ms. Blake was part 
of a triumvirate, tied to a vampire and a werewolf and 
while that would still have meant longevity. She had 
no intention of being chained to any man, whatever 
power it might give her. 

  "Is he ready." She asked, her voice a sweet bell- 
like sound. Well she preferred to think it was, 
whatever others thought, they learned to agree or 
else. She could have clapped her hands in delight. Oh 
this was going to be so much fun. She was going to 
use him, then send him back to his precious Ms. Blake, 
and her vampire master and werewolf lover, to die in 
their arms. It was a gesture worthy of the old days. 
She missed the old days, there simply wasn?t enough 
blood shed in these sterile times. Oh but soon that 
would change. Soon, she'd have chaos reigning once 
again, and he was just the first domino in a long 
chain. Oh yes this was going to be so very enjoyable. 

  Asher's eyes snapped open, with a suddenness that 
most would have found very disconcerting. It was how 
he always awoke. He looked around quickly taking 
stock of his surroundings. He'd already healed from 
the wounds he'd taken last night. They hadn?t been 
all that severe. They'd managed to keep him pinned in 
a corner fighting until daybreak. If he'd had time, 
perhaps he would have beaten them off, unfortunately 
at sunrise he'd, gone out like a light, to quote 
Jason. Now he was chained, with silver of course, to a 
chair, in what appeared to be a very luxurious 
bathroom. It was done very tastefully in white and 
Wedgwood blue, very feminine. A head peeked from 
behind drapes that he assumed concealed a bathtub. It 
was a very attractive head. Soft wisps of white 
blonde hair curled charmingly around a perfectly 
symmetrical face, with huge eyes that glowed like 
emeralds. Long dark lashes curled around those eyes, 
giving them a sultry look. He wondered who she was.

  He was attracted. She could sense it. She smiled 
coyly at him. Men were so very easy. They so seldom 
looked beyond the surface. Foolish, but a very nice 
weakness, when one wanted to exploit them. This one 
was beautiful, she supposed. Well there were the 
scars, but she'd seen so much worse. A secret smile 
glowed in her eyes.  She'd caused so much worse, and of 
course she could heal that torn flesh so easily. 
Reality was so easy to manipulate if one just knew 
how. "Hello, little vampire." She said still smiling 
at him. "What pretty eyes you have." She added. 
Flattery of course was another way to a man's heart, 
well maybe lower actually. 

  Asher didn't like her voice; there was something very 
cruel in it. Not overtly, but he had heard enough 
voices that delighted in the fear and pain of others 
to recognize that soft sadistic joy in one. The only way 
to deal with someone like that was to give them 
nothing. "Thank you" He said very smoothly. She 
obviously had plans for him, plans he probably wasn't 
going to like. 

  "You seem very at ease here little vampire. Have you 
learned to play these games already." She was 
taunting him. Of course he knew these games, the 
vampire council delighted in playing them. He kept his 
silence, as a good little vampire should. She smiled 
again."I am Reagan, though I doubt that means 
anything to you." She said. It didn't bother her, 
that her name was no longer feared, it had changed 
some many times over the years, that it didn't matter 
anymore. Of course soon that would all change. Soon, 
she would have her rightful place back. "It shall 
come to mean a great deal though. You see you are going 
to help me in oh so many ways." Laughter rolled off 
the end of her tongue, washing over him. Now the only 
question was how much to explain. Oh she did so want 
to tell someone of her brilliant plan, but if he knew, 
why then he might rebel, and be harder to manipulate. 
She'd have to expend too much energy coercing him if 
she used magic. Creatures like vampires were ever so 
much more difficult to control then humans and 
animals. She wasn't quite sure why, it probably had 
something to do with them being dead. 

  That was why her first choice of body had been Ms. 
Blake. She was a Necromancer, one of the first the 
world had seen in countless ages. She wanted that 
power over the dead. She disliked that there was an 
aspect of the world that she could not control at her 
ease. Oh of course there were others too, creatures 
as old as she was, creatures of pure magic, the fey. 
They did not concern her over much, of course neither 
had vampires until recently. It was all this nonsense 
about making them citizens and giving them rights. It 
gave them power; more then they were entitled to by her 
reckoning. She didn't like it at all. If they grew 
in power, they might become true adversaries. She didn't 
need that. She liked being the biggest fish in her pond. 
She nodded to the guard. There was no time for 
dawdling; the solstice was in four nights. Everything 
had to be ready by then. It would be ready too, or 
heads would roll. She smiled. Heads would roll in any 
event, but if things didn't go as she wanted, well 
then, that was a different matter altogether. 

  Stefan returned with the Vessel. She was a lovely 
thing; of course, she would not spend countless 
centuries in a hideous container. She had found this 
one in London, in a library of all places. She didn't 
look at all like the present body she inhabited. She 
had such soft silky hair; thick and glossy, of the 
darkest midnight black and eyes like glowing topaz. 
Not brown, but a glowing warm topaz that seemed to 
hold trapped fire within. She had a striking face, 
not precisely pretty, but something in the planes and 
angles caught and held the eye, making one wish to 
study it. She was also taller then most the bodies 
she had lived in. 5'10", and built like a ballet 
dancer. She even moved like one, gracefully flowing. 
That is what had drawn her eye in the first place. 
The girls name was Chrysanthemum, a most peculiar 
name.  She had explained though that her parents had 
been involved in a movement when they were younger and 
she'd had the misfortune of being born during that 
time. She preferred to go by Chrys. 

  Asher looked at the girl; she didn't appear well, 
beyond the obvious fright. She was very pale and 
appeared sick. It didn't surprise him that Reagan 
hadn't taken care of her "guest". She stumbled and 
fell at his feet, and he could hear her mumbling 
something very lightly, he listened carefully for a 
moment and frowned. It was the Jabberwocky by Lewis 
Carol. Not an entirely inappropriate poem considering 
she was among monsters, but it had been his experience 
that most people didn't recite poetry in these kinds 
of situations. The girl suddenly stopped and looked 
up at him. He caught a flash of fire in the depths of 
her eyes, what ever she had been through; it hadn't 
broken her spirit yet. Perhaps poetry wasn't such a 
bad idea. 

  Chrys, looked up at the golden-haired man. She 
dreaded whatever was going to happen next. When Reagan 
brought new "toys" home, they were inevitably broken 
before dawn. Broken and bleeding, usually covered in 
their own vomit, missing limbs or other appendages, 
missing vital organs. It was never a pretty sight, 
and each night she was made to watch. They hadn't 
harmed her physically; although she was beginning to 
suspect that she was being poisoned. What she didn't 
understand was why. Reagan could make her die in much 
more painful inventive ways then mere poison, so maybe 
it was just the stress, maybe she was just willing 
herself to die. She didn't really believe that. She 
didn't want to die, she had no intention of dying, not 
if she had a say in the matter, and if it came down to 
stubbornness she sure as hell did have a say. She'd 
survive, somehow. 

  She turned to look up at Reagan.  She hadn't tried to 
get up off the floor.  Truth to tell, she wasn't sure 
she could get up. Each breath seemed to be harder to 
catch then the last, but at least sitting, well half 
lying on the floor, she could concentrate just on 
that, and on the poems of course. She'd never figured 
that memorizing poetry would come in this handy, but it 
seemed that if you concentrated hard enough of the 
poem then your surroundings sort of faded around the 
edges. They didn't go away completely, but it made it 
easier to pretend that she was fine. She wasn't fine. 
She was sick and scared and emotionally drained of 
everything even resembling hope or any other redeeming 
emotion. She was working on hate and anger and pure 
stubbornness, and whatever else you could say, she was 
managing.  Maybe not coping, but at least she was being 
as strong as she was capable of being. Whatever the 
hell that meant. 

  Reagan watched Asher look at the girl. Oh poor, poor 
vampire, he worried for the child. How touching. 
That would make it so much more entertaining. She 
looked at him, catching his eyes. "She's dying, but 
you could save her you know. You could make her a 
vampire. It would be a huge favor to me." She smiled 
gently with motherly concern.  Perhaps he would think 
that she and this girl shared some bond, they 
didn't, but they would. 

  Asher kept his face impassive. Chrys, he refused to 
think of her as the girl, she was sick and dying. He 
could smell the death on her skin; hear it in each 
labored breath. Perhaps she wished to become a 
vampire. He looked again at her. He did not think 
that was her wish exactly. She had tensed at Reagan's 
words, but she didn't exude fear. After a few 
moments, she looked up at him one eyebrow lifting 
slightly. She was not adverse to the idea. He, however, 
did not like this situation, nor was he a fool. Reagan 
was up to something, and this girl played some part in it,
at least an unwitting part, perhaps she knew all, whatever 
the case. He did not make vampires, he never had. It was not a 
responsibility he wished to burden himself with. 
"No." He said very simply. 


  Reagan smiled. She'd known that would be the way of 
things. It was just as well. She would have what she 
wanted. "You shall do as I ask, or you both shall 
die.  Well, actually nothing so nice as that for you 
little vampire. You shall spend eternity in a 
box, with her rotting corpse as company." She nodded 
to Stefan again. He stepped to the door and gave the 
order for the coffin to be brought in. Oh she would 
so enjoy this. Of course if he didn't comply, well 
there was always next year. 

  Taylor and Benjamin brought the long coffin in.  It 
was wider then most. She'd had it custom made once upon
a time, but that was another story. Taylor stabbed 
a syringe into the vampire's neck and depressed the 
plunger. It was a combination of morphine, codeine, and 
a few other heavy narcotics; the vampire's head drooped 
almost immediately. It was enough drugs to kill a herd of 
full-grown elephants; it should give them enough time 
to move the vampire from the chair to the coffin. He 
lifted the vampire easily in his arms as Benjamin 
opened the coffin. He laid him gently in the thing 
then turned back to collect Chrys. She looked back at 
Reagan. "Why?" She asked very simply.
 
Reagan laughed. "Why? Because I can, of course 
darling.  Because I can." She laughed then. "When he 
wakes tell him, that I've bound the coffin, not with 
crosses. Tell him it is bound with laurel, see if he 
knows what to make of that." She nodded to Taylor, 
who laid Chrys next to the vampire. What a lovely 
couple they made. Beauty and the beast. She laughed 
again as the coffin was being sealed. Now she had but 
to wait and see what would happen. Oh the 
anticipation just might force her to kill someone. 
She smiled. That was as good a reason as any. It was 
time for a spot of hunting. She could already taste 
blood. Laughter filled the room as she climbed from 
her bath.