Candlelight

I see the headliners now: hacker found dead at the end of the night, dried up of blood. Why such a horrible crime was committed? Because the foolish girl had challenged the Master Vampire of the City for the life of her adopted brother. Well, un-life, to be correct.

My brother had died sixteen years ago when I was just a wee kid. And he really wasn't my brother. Just a childhood friend that had decided to follow me like a little lost puppy dog, ready to lick a hand for not getting kicked. That was Robinson for ya. Big, bald-headed, looked and acted like a bouncer that had two many whiskeys under his belt.

Imagine my mother's surprise when she saw her baby girl and a twenty-nine-year-old drunk that just so happened to be a ghost playing at the kitchen table. I've yet to see her stop smoking. She really hates my gift for seeing and controlling spirits and on bad days, sometimes I agree with her.

But now, staring at a new restaurant called, "Candlelight," I got the feeling that I was about to join my dead buddies.

"Half-wit," I angrily mumbled to myself and walked in and stopped with my hand still holding the door. I was frozen like an ice cube.

It was beautiful. Candles, small, medium, and large, were everywhere, lit with flickering flames that decorated the walls with shadows. It was utterly amazing, a dream come true.

I let go of the door, took for granted the "please-seat-yourself" sign and sat at a booth overlooking the establishment. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. My stomach growled in protest. I was hungry, deliberately forgetting to eat breakfast, lunch and now dinner. When you're going to school, work as a hacker for hire, and support twenty-three ghosts (yes, that's how many I have now. My house is a mess), money doesn't exactly grow on trees.

So I ignored the growls and waited for the big man to make himself known. I didn't wait long. A fox-what the devil?-jumped up on my table and sat there, staring at me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw people glance at me and at my visitor with frank curiosity.

On top of that, a waiter came by and placed a plate of food before me, petting the fox as he told me what the odd shapes on the dish were.

"Lightly grilled catfish," he pointed to it with glee, "double-cheese potato pie," call it a mountain of white snow with melted cheese painting the top of it and you'll get the image I was looking at, "and baked red-skinned apples with chopped walnuts for dessert."

"I didn't order this," I said to the attendant's back. And even if I had the money, I still wouldn't have ordered it.

Oh. "Couldn't I just have a salad?" It was worth the try, but it didn't work. The waiter had already left, leaving me behind with a fox and a heap of steaming food.

The fox in question quickly snatched a piece of the catfish, and munched down. This was so unreal. "Fine, but touch the potatoes and we'll have a problem." I couldn't believe I was actually talking to a fox.

That voice. Velvet on skin, soft rose petals twirling in a soapy sea of water, nothing could do it justice. It was perfect. It was everything and my god, what was I doing sitting here like a lump on a log? Say something, girl!

"She's fine." All right, so I don't deal well with pressure. Trust me, if you were sitting with a fox and a god came up to sit beside you, what would you say? Take me, I'm yours? Get real. I rarely throw myself on a guy on the first date. On the second one, maybe but rarely on the first.

And would you listen to me? I was already thinking of him as a date! Good lord, the world was coming to an end!

"As you wish. Tell me, how do you like my candlelight?" At that statement, he had sat himself down, holding the fox with one hand and feeding what was left of the catfish to her with the other.

I'm the type of girl that when a handsome boy walks in the room and everyone yells it out, I go "where?"

I notice the little things, like nice eyes, nice voice, nice butt, you get the picture. So, don't degrade me for not noticing quickly that he was utterly the most praiseworthy man alive, err, un-alive, that this world will ever see.

Yes, indeed, trouble was brewing. I knew he was a vampire by the way he felt. I am an expert on the dead, remember. And although he wasn't a ghost, part of me still responded to him. He was powerful, a master, surely but was he the big one?

He laughed. I won't say what the sound of it did to my body. Let's just say I was tingling, leave it at that.

"We don't have him," he repeated, so smoothly that for some reason I felt myself hanging on his every word. That's not me. I'm never weak. What the hell was happening here? "I believe a man by the name of Carpenter does."

The darn fox followed me home, despite my dramatic, but pitiful play to get rid of her. No matter what I did, funny faces, knifes, playing my music as loud as the neighbors would allow, she stayed, even gave me the big I'm-not-going-to-leave-so-don't-even-try-whacking-me-with-that-newspaper-I-know-you're-hiding-behind-your-back smile.

I really was beginning to hate animals, which was bad, because I am one of those that can't pass a pet store without dreaming of getting that bad mouth bird or rabbit that loves to hiss because it thinks it's a snake.

First thing she did was pick a rug by the fireplace (my favorite spot to grab a horror book and read) and yawn. I was tried and fighting it and that yawn certainly didn't help matters any. It made me what to crawl in my bed and give up my upcoming history class.

And after the exhausting experiment to try and get the fox out of my house, she had the courage to jump up on my lap and fall asleep.

My fingers itched to grab her neck and pull to see if it would come off, but for some reason something inside me broke. Sensing this, she trustingly placed her head on my arm and snuggled closer.

"I'm going soft," I whispered, watching the warm bundle in my arms sleep. Broke and crumbled, my heart never stood a chance against the critter and her very pleasing master.

Asher; his name was enough to make me close my eyes and dream of summer nights and moonlight reflecting off his fair hair. It reminded me of hay, thin strands of straw waiting to be fingered and gathered in your hand. My, what a thought.

I shifted, uncomfortable. I always made my own rules and followed them with an iron will. One of my most respected rules was never to fall in love so quickly.

He had been the perfect gentleman during dinner. Asking if I needed anything, and would I like another dessert such as chocolate? I nearly choked on the image that came to mind. Asher covered in chocolate with only me to save him. I didn't say it out loud, but I was sure by the way his eyes sparkled he was thinking the same, except with me in his place. The thought of me covered in chocolate, with him-I had to stop it or my heart wasn't going to make it another minute.

He didn't even say a word when his fox jumped down and began to follow me. In fact, he looked as much puzzled by it as I was. I wonder why. I had thought he had commanded the fox to follow me, but apparently he didn't. Didn't vampires possess animals to call?

I glanced longingly at my computer. One thing about being a hacker, information was easy to get. It wouldn't take me long to find stuff about vampires and by the looks of things, I had no choice. It was better to be prepared than to die with someone sucking me dry. Someone other than Asher, that is. Oh lord, where did that thought come from?

Finally I was able to locate stuff about Carpenter, and although my hands shook like crazy on the keyboard, I managed to discover that he was still alive. Asher had been right, the scamp.

"I'll like to thank the Federal Bureau of Investigation and its inability to keep me out of their roughly unbreakable system. Without them, I would go broke," I whispered as information flew magically across the screen. It didn't take long for me to find out the real meat on the bone, and although, I was good, I got out as soon as the files started printing.

Never press your luck if you want to stay in the hacker business. I learned that lesson the hard way.

I swallowed, not wanting to answer. Stacy was a good soul. She didn't deserve finding out that the man that had raped and murdered her was still alive, but I couldn't lie to her. She was one of my own, one of my ghosts.

"He's lives." It was all I could say. The rest just wouldn't come out of my mouth no matter how many times I opened it.

Stacy floated up to me and I was struck again on how attractive she was despite the dark cosmetics coloring her face hard. "And?"

Stacy smoothed wrinkles out of her transparent clothing nervously. I don't have a clue where the creases were and in all reality, I really didn't want to know.

With her high-cut black satin shorts and matching spandex shirt that only served to cover her breasts, she still dressed like a hooker.

Old habits die hard, I guess. But she acted so girlish at times that sometimes I catch myself overlooking her old profession and thinking of her as a normal kid that was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Except she selected to be on the streets and had paid the price for her choice with her life.

It's an unspoken rule between the spirits and myself. Don't ask the specters about the past and they'll be your friends forever.

"And this vamp says he has Robinson?" She choked up on the last word and I flinched. Another good reason to get the bald guy back. Stacy loved him. She never would admit it, but she did. You could see it in her eyes.

My day was shot after that. Call it whatever you want, but I admit it was fear that had me driving to places I would never dream about going just a couple days ago, but damn it, I needed some answers and I was going to get some. Besides, I wasn't alone. The fox decided to keep me company, tarrying behind me with her tail swaying back and forth.

"Conceited little devil, aren't you," I muttered The fox only waved her tail again in answer. "I bet you knock all the male foxes for a loop."

She probably did too. She had kept to the shadows all day as if she was afraid that the sun might ruin her looks or something. Vain, indeed.

After traveling to three biker bars, two 24-hour dance clubs (the only way to go) and even one trailer park close to the District (close enough for little comfort, in my opinion) I was stomped. No one knew where Carpenter was. Only that he was alive and dealing drugs somewhere, but not here. Rats! I was going to have to go to Asher.

"I don't suppose you know where to find your master?" I asked the small creature, laughing inwardly at myself for even doing such a thing.

No, people, I'm not nuts, I'm just talking to a four-legged beast, waiting for an answer, that's all.

That four-legged creature in question took off like a bat out of hell, leaving me to stare at where she had been. I blinked.

I turned around, surprised to find myself staring at familiar icy blue eyes, but it wasn't Asher. Unless Asher had turned himself into a girl, which could be, given to how much I know about vampires and given to the fact that this girl could have been his twin, well, younger version twin.

"My master has sent me to find you. He wishes to know if you would be so kind as to join him for an early supper?"

She nodded as her blond hair glistened from the sunlight. She had a soft Irish accent, not enough to make her a full blood, but well, it was flattering to the ears, almost like Asher's voice, although his was a French accent.

"Please tell your master that the answer is no. I'll meet him on my own terms," I replied stubbornly and started walking away, wondering if I should mention that I had lost Asher's fox. I was about to stop and tell her so when my senses started flashing red.

I looked towards the girl for help, but realized with sudden dread that it was her doing. She took a hold of my arm, steering me to a waiting car nearby.

"Stop," I said weakly, even began to send a SOS in the back of my mind to my ghosts but hit a brick wall.

The girl had thought of everything. She was using some sort of spell, I thought. But she wasn't a witch. Another must be helping her, but where? Feebly, I looked around for the source, but couldn't find the person responsible.

I fought the darkness as long as my strength allowed, but it was useless, utterly useless.

When my eyes opened, I screamed. Not because I was afraid, but because I had the strangest dream of my life. It started out pretty pleasant with Asher holding me tightly and whispering words too soft to hear, but were comforting nevertheless.

And then ants, millions of them, appeared out of nowhere and ate at my flesh as Asher held onto me. I cried out for help, but no one heard me. Only Asher, but he was too busy trying to keep me calm and trying to heal my wounds. It was at that moment I woke up.

"Sometimes, in our dreams, we see the future. `Tis could be news of happiness or a warning of what could happen. But from that scream, it must be the latter. Was it bad? "

I quickly sat up, which was a mistake considering how much my head roared in protest and stared. It was that girl! Anger burned deep. She seemed to sense it and backed up.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my idea, nor was it my father's plan either, so I will not have you blaming him. Uncle wanted to see you."

"Uncle?" I asked, glancing around for possible escapes. We were in a room, filled with coffins.

"No, don't worry, the coffins are empty, except one, the one father's sleeping in. I put you here for I could keep in eye on you both," she said sheepishly.

"Are you some sort of bodyguard or something?" I asked, calming down somewhat, although the anger was still there.

"Would you like something to eat? I'm afraid all I have is fish, but I can have someone get you something."

"I can't believe you asked me that! Here I am, taken against my will, and you ask me if I want something to eat? No! I don't want anything! I want out! Let me go!"

In my anger, I didn't realize until it was too late that I was backing the poor girl up against the wall. On top of that, I was frightening her. You must realize that what happened next was something I will never forget as long as I live.

It took moments, but I never saw it coming. And all I have to say, never, EVER corner a kid when her father's sleeping just inches away.

Asher came tearing out of his coffin in movements my poor human eyes could not follow and backed ME up against the wall beside his daughter. God, I can't describe what he looked like. Only that if I had said the wrong word, I was dead.

The voice was soft, but there was steel to it that left both of us girls trembling. Cyder was the lucky one. She got to leave.

If I wasn't so afraid, I would be kissing him senseless because damn he looked good angry.

Even I knew that the price tag would have been way too high if I had and I'm the one that doesn't know much about vampires.

I didn't dare move a muscle for what seemed like hours until he slowly lifted a hand and caressed my cheek. I take that back; I would have gladly paid the fuddy-duddy price tag than feel what I was experiencing at that moment.

The touch sent shivers beneath my skin and butterflies, not the delicate kind, but the ones that bite until you bleed kind, in my stomach. My eyes began to water and my throat tightened.

Once, when I was a little girl, I had fallen off my favorite bike. It hurt. It hurt badly enough that I cried out in my mind, and ghosts from blocks away answered. So many surrounded me and daringly, I tried touching the swirl of ghoulish colors and felt the power. It was mine and I wanted to be a part of it, to join with them, be one with them forever.

I almost did, my fingers lightly brushing, but Robinson picked me up out of nowhere before I could even make full contact. He hugged as close as he dared and he cried wet-free tears.

Cried so much that I thought he would never stop. I knew it cost him. Cost him dearly because the living and dead weren't supposed to mix. Weren't supposed to touch.

Had I made that contact, had Robinson not kept the control he had when I was a child, I would have become something more, something evil, because any ghost, good or bad, including Robinson, would of been able to jump within me and control me fully.

Just like Carpenter. Oh, he's alive, but he's alive in somebody else's body. I pity the poor soul he had chosen.

If there's one thing that gives me the creeps, it's Carpenter. The fact that he had once been a friend plays a huge role in it.

The dead ones, deep down within themselves, want to live again and it's that pull that proves to be unstoppable.

It's the pull towards the living that makes them come night after night to lean over our beds, or walk the stairs, up and down, until someone wakes up and realizes that they are not alone.

And now, feeling Asher's touch against my skin, I understand my ghosts better than ever before because I feel the same pull towards someone other than myself.

Did Asher have any idea of it? Does he have any idea of how I wanted so much to take the lines from his face, and lift his lips and see his smile?

No, of course not. Like the living, he could never be aware of the storm spinning inside me, unless he felt the same pull for me. That thought was too much even for me to handle, so I ignored it as best I could.

I swallowed quickly and tugged away, my back pressing even further against the wall. He tensed suddenly. Was he hurt?

No, no it couldn't be. He couldn't possibly be hurt by my reaction. It just wasn't possible or was it? Once again, I disregarded my thoughts.

"Forgive me, my daughter means everything to me. I fear I am not the most sensible person to be around when I feel she is threatened."

"I know that now. That is why I asked for your forgiveness. Tell me, Carla, why are you here?"

I blinked. He couldn't be serious! "That's what I wanted to know. First, your daughter tells me you've invited me over for supper, takes me hostage, and now tells me her uncle, whoever he is, wants to meet me and wait a minute-you called that girl Cyder!"

Asher smiled. Breathtaking smile that it was. "You are beginning to understand. That is good. Understanding will help you to work with my daughter in the future and yes, Cyder and the fox are one and the same."

My surprise seemed to make his smile grow wider. "I forget sometimes that others might find this strange. Perhaps you will find it even stranger to know that my daughter is half-vampire as well. She is a part of me. Part of my mind. Part of my blood. She shares my likes and dislikes, willingly or not. I am her father. She is my child. Together, we are whole. That is why when you look at her, you see me."

I had never heard a father and daughter relationship put so bluntly before, but it fit them. Like I said, they looked like twins.

"Half-vampire. Isn't that impossible? I mean, if she was the fox, she was in daylight with me. Oh," I said, remembering, "Is that why she stayed in the shadows?"

"Indeed. My daughter doesn't share some of the conditions of being a vampire. Sunlight hurts her but does not kill. Crosses makes her uncomfortable but does not burn. Most of all hunger for blood surges through her but is not required. Only when she is hurt or if I am wounded, will the need overwhelm her."

"We are one." He wouldn't go any further than that. All right, the guy could keep some secrets, but darn it, I was finding this fascinating, although I tried not to be that careless. Finding Asher and Cyder interesting could mean a lifetime friendship deal. A deal I was not quite ready to shake on, at least not at that moment.

Asher gazed at me until I felt like a board being drilled into. "What?" I asked, uncomfortable.

He shook his head. Startled, I blinked, something that's becoming a habit these days. One moment he had been standing beside me, the next sitting on one of the coffins, a cigarette flaring in between his hand. He lifted it to his lips, smoke flowing out as he puffed.

"Jean-Claude, the Master of the City you've wanted so badly to meet and yes he does want to meet you as well, but he gave me no order to bring you here. My daughter and her friend, Camilla, did that for reasons I have yet to understand. Trust me, I will find out why, but for now, let me just say you are here because it is in my best interest as well my daughter's interest to help you find Carpenter."

"We have someone like Carpenter within our vampire ranks. He is called the Traveler. Carpenter is a threat to this city. We wished him stopped."

Again, what's a second? But I didn't voice it. The door opened before I could say anything else, and Cyder walked in. No, that's not right. Drifted across the floor was more like it.

"Yes, Papa. Am I getting any better?" Cyder said it with such hopefulness that I had to smile. Like any child, I guess, she wanted to make her parent proud.

Asher put out his cigarette (pity, I was actually enjoying watching him smoke) and I kid you not, elevated himself up until his head lightly brushed the ceiling. He held out a hand, inviting his daughter to join him. She did, not as quickly as Asher, but still, you had to give the girl credit, she was learning.

Cyder curled up in his lap, which she could do since Asher was tall and she so tiny. Childlike, I thought. Not that much younger than me, perhaps, but I realized compared to other full-blooded vampires, she was just a toddler.

He began to rock her gently and I realized with a start what he was intending to do, which was weird, since I wasn't a parent by any means. He was putting her to sleep. It dawned on me what Cyder had on was a nightgown. It made sense. If she was only half-vampire, she needed sleep like the rest of us, or at least I guessed.

"Yes. She was once as old as you, and as tall, but my blood changed her. Made her look and act like the child I have always wanted during my mortal days."

"What I can do, she will be able to do once she learns. She is already a master," he said this with so much pride that I matched his grin in response.

We talked. Not about Carpenter, but about Cyder. I even found myself teasing him about what he was going to do when she was ready (she was already old enough to have such thoughts but I wasn't about to tell him that) to date. He somberly replied that he would rip out their unmentionables and break each bone in the poor suitor's body.

I believed him. Nothing like a father being threatened by the possibility of losing his daughter to a boy. The fact that the father was a vampire didn't change the reaction. In fact, it intensified it, I think. I suddenly doubted that Cyder would ever find someone to meet Asher's standards and if she did, lord help the poor guy.

I left Asher still holding Cyder. Was I still mad at them? Hell yeah. Was I going to let them help? No, I don't think so. Despite their growing appeal, Asher alone represented too much trouble to take the risk.

No, I was on my own. Carpenter was about to be sorry, because he did the unthinkable. He got me into this mess. And if he harmed one ghostly hair off Robinson's head, oh, he couldn't run fast enough. He couldn't hide. I'll find him and make him wish he never decided to come back in the first place. What can I say? I protect my own.

White light encircled me. I propelled it with my power, lashing out to anything close enough to reach. Dirty cups in the kitchen (I have been meaning to clean them) were lightly picked up as well as some vampire books I've been meaning to read.

The cups went first. One after another I vanquished them using the power of my mind. Each one were either crushed or burned by the white light. Ghost light, to be exact.

"Die, buggers, die," I chanted, enjoying the small, but critical game. If I was to defeat Carpenter, I needed to be the best.

Call it a moment of rage because damn it, why wasn't I born when vampires were nothing but fiction, mythical creatures to dream about? Life would have been so much simpler.

I sighed. Waved my hand and would you know it?-the cups were back to normal, and books ready to be read. I decided to go for larger prey.

He appeared, wearing an apron and holding a mop in one hand. Well, why not? The ghosts were the ones to make the clutter in the first place, why not make them clean the house?

"Arm the mop and let's do it," I got up and posed in my combat mode with feet slightly apart, hand glowing softly with my power and eyes firmly planted on Taylor's mop. He wasn't about to pull the nasty trick he did last time.

Stacy let out a squeak that would have knocked anyone off the ground, but I was used to the ghostly routines my boys and girl liked to perform. I won't even begin to tell you how many times I hear chains rattling at night.

"Come on, Casper, take your best shot," I taunted, knowing how much Taylor hated to be reminded that he wasn't exactly three-dimensional anymore. He looked at me, smiled.

And boom! I was on the floor seeing little birdies twirling above my head. Who said Casper was the friendly ghost anyway?

Easing my tall frame back up, I once again called power to me, watched as the white light coiled in the air and settle, waiting for me to direct it.

When Taylor tried to use the same move on me again, his mop met a firm and unyielding invisible sword that went where I told it to go. Taylor grunted from the impact. I faintly smiled and concentrated. I was all business now. Taylor, the poor guy, symbolized my frustrations and boy, did I take it out on him.

Thank the heavens above he was already dead or I would have had to rush him to the hospital. As it was, when I was finished, he looked beat, fading in and out, like a light not knowing which way to snap.

Taylor smiled weakly and I waved my hand, thanking him by bestowing upon him some of my strength. I would have to sleep for an extra hour but it was worth the price. Taylor had been the best opponent. He deserved it.

But I wished I hadn't been so hasty when my head began to pound without warning. I looked around, noticing that almost all my ghosts were onto the alarm, each and every one present at the house visible and ready to fight.

I still don't know which ghost pushed me down first, but I was faced down on the floor before I even knew it. Bullets riddled the house, getting dangerously close to my computer and stereo.

Luckily Stacy beat me to it and dropped my costly disks in a shopping bag, slugs going right through her as she worked. Taylor, bless the boy, stronger because of the extra power that I had given him, immediately shielded the computer, building a wall around it with his momentarily solid body. I watched with morbid fascination as holes began to appear on his back. He didn't seem to notice.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a spot of red coming towards me. A fox-FOX!- surfaced beside my arm, her eyes looking so calmly into mine I think I was mesmerized. She surveyed the scene around us, and swayed, her head stooping low to the ground. A blur, like clay being molded and she was back in human form, unafraid still.

"Papa's coming," she bent low to my ear to be heard over the racket above us. I nodded, paralyzed and yes, this was the first time I had been shot at in my short and hopefully continuing years of life.

I may be a hacker, ghost friendly hacker at that, but I wasn't one to stir attention, at least until a couple days ago.

Damn Asher, damn Carpenter, damn Robinson, and damn them all for getting me into this pickle!

I must of looked puzzled because she took my hand, cold, it was like ice, and showed me why it could never hurt her. I felt Asher's presence swallow me up, my headache dulling, my fear growing dim because he was there, perhaps in spirit, but he was within Cyder, there for us both.

Cyder smiled, a tear falling from her eye, making me think that she HAD been hurt, but she whispered something so softly I could barely hear her. "I choose you."

I was about to ask her what she had meant, but at that moment, everything went wild. Have you ever seen a witch and a vampire fight pitiful mortals with toy guns? Boy, it was entertaining. I wished I had a bowl of popcorn to go along with the show.

A girl, not that much older than me, stepped into the room, her hair whipping back and forth from the winds she had called. She nodded to Cyder.

Cyder quickly changed back to fox form, gave me a lick on the nose and dashed to Camilla's side, acting almost like a familiar. Camilla raised her hand, blue fire, brighter than my ghost light, (I was envious), spurted out and she used it to knock out the last remaining gunman beside the now shattered window. That's going to cost a bundle, I thought.

Cyder looked at me, alarmed, as if she sensed my increasing anger. She jumped in my arms, giving me no choice but to catch her and burrowed close, one ear up, most likely finding comfort by listening to my heartbeat, although I hadn't a clue why I thought that.

Both the fox's ears lifted when Asher strolled in, holding two very scared rabbits, one looking as if he was going to pee his pants.

"Why attack?" Camilla, the witch, she had to be a witch in order to call that much power, asked. None of the guys seemed inclined to answer. She placed a glowing hand on the nearest scoundrel's forehead. His lips moved against his will.

Asher glanced at me and I knew what he was going to say, I just knew. Holding my breath, I waited. "No matter what you think, Carla, you need our help now more than ever."

I was back at Candlelight, the second time in a week. Asher had insisted that I follow them to the restaurant, not by force nor by threatening me, but by gently taking my hand and leading me out of the house.

His touch warmed me, calmed me and I suddenly realized that this wasn't going to be a fight I could win. I was stuck with them, feeling like dried glue unwilling to give up its hold until the last minute and I was the one plastered.

Cyder acted the same way, curled up asleep in my lap, snoring softly. The girl sleeps a lot, I thought.

The witch joined us, her eyes flickering to Asher, waiting for him to make the first move. Asher sighed, the movement causing him to squeeze my hand because I had tried once again to tug free from his hold.

Asher glanced down at me and I gasped. I had never seen those scars before, huge ugly welts that covered half his face. He saw my shock clearly and let me go, settling himself in a chair farthest from me. I felt ashamed for my reaction, but couldn't take it back.

"You are incapable of fighting him alone, and frankly I tire of your resistance. We will help you. Leave it at that."

"This isn't your fight! It's mine!" I yelled, angry, waking up Cyder. Camilla only watched us, as if she knew a fight was brewing between Asher and myself.

"What do you mean?" I wearily asked. The way he had said it, I think he was hurt by my outburst.

"Enough," Camilla said, stepping in where she didn't belong in my opinion. "I'm to take you to your uncle, Cyder."

Cyder got up from my lap and gave Asher a look. Asher's face clouded. He reached out for the fox, holding her close to his chest.

"Jean-Claude wishes it," Camilla whispered. Asher reluctantly handed over the fox to her, his face tight. Both of them left, two beady eyes looking back at us from over the witch's shoulder.

"My daughter, yes, but Jean-Claude has the right, he is the MASTER of this city. Now, tell me, Carla, what has Carpenter done to you, besides taking Robinson?"

But I did, because I had no choice. I needed him. I needed his help. A lump of coal settled in my stomach at that thought. Carpenter had been responsible not only for Stacy's untimely death.

Before I had realized that he was a ghost in a human body. I had loved him, enough said, but in some ways, I still feel responsible for Stacy and what he had done to her. It was one of the reasons why I had taken her in so blindly with little trust, something I rarely do. Hell, Taylor had been bugging me for two years to live with me until I finally relented and let him move in.

Stacy and I share a bond, because the same man, Carpenter, had played us both for fools. It was hard telling Asher that. Hard to see his face remain remarkably flat, as if he was afraid one dime of emotion would send me bolting.

My god I think he was right. It hit me that I cared what he would think about what Carpenter had done.

Asher got up from his chair, a puppet being pulled by strings and took a couple of steps towards me. "We will find him," he softly spoke, his voice filling my ears with such conviction that I daringly looked up at his eyes.

The depth into which I was dragged into was constant and pure, the power being the only thing I could hold onto as the currents coming from his eyes whisked over me. He leaned forward, suddenly holding my arms, but never broke eye contact. He was trying to, his frown told me that, but like me, the pull was weaving a pattern into his soul until we were both victims of circumstance.

He slowly brushed his lips against mine and down my throat. I gulped as his tongue licked my flesh, sending sensations welling up inside that I without thinking raised my fingers to lightly trace his scars, wanting to give him some part of the pleasure.

When it was over, when I had finally regained control, Asher was gone, the only thing left was a burning sensation on my neck. As quickly as I could, I ran out, aware of the people staring at me, but I didn't care. I ran for hours, part of me saying that I should be tired, but strangely I wasn't, I just kept on running.

My house was quiet when I got home, except for Cyder sitting in front of my TV watching cartoons. I didn't bother to ask her to leave, I just looked at her, feeling alien and cold in my own body.

Cyder got up, her smile faltering when she saw my face. "Papa told me to give you a letter. You weren't here, so I waited. What's wrong?"

Cyder suddenly gasped, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch my neck. I winced. It hurt.

Cyder disappeared as quickly as one of my ghosts would. My eyes immediately found a letter beside my phone, my name written across it. I opened it, my eyes failing to believe what it said.

Tears, held back until now, flowed and I dropped down to my knees. I didn't know what he had done. I hadn't a clue why he asked for my forgiveness.

I sat down at my kitchen table, staring bleakly at my broken window when my front door banged open and in poured Cyder carrying boxes and boxes of stuff.

"Good morning," she said, easily setting down the load on my floor. I numbly stared at what she had brought.

Consign to hell, that fox better not be thinking that she could move into my house without even asking!

I couldn't deal with Asher; I sure as hell couldn't deal with his daughter right now, not after what happened last night. Cyder didn't seemed to notice my discomfort, only began unpacking. I watched her as she took out two cartons of milk, a gallon of mint and chip ice cream, (only one, damn) three boxes of corn flake cereal, (I'm going to be sick) a couple of strawberry flavored yogurts (that's more like it) and went to the next box.

I nearly fell out of my chair when she pulled out a couple packages of silk underwear, (oh my god), new spike-heeled boots and a lacy bra that Cyder handed to me with a slight blush coloring her pale cheeks.

I stared and broke out laughing so hard I held my stomach for fear that it would burst. Cyder looked at me, puzzled. I pointed to the bra and kept laughing. It was the most absurd looking thing I had ever seen. It even had feathers dangling on the front of it. Cyder smiled, understanding what a female could only know.

"He was going to buy some handicaps to go with it but I stopped him," Cyder replied. My laughter died abruptly. The image that came to mind was something Cyder wouldn't understand, or at least I hope she wouldn't.

---Gifts I would kill to see you in and die a thousand deaths just to have a chance to tear them apart on you, Asher---

Now it was my turn to blush. Oh, lord. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't even move when Cyder placed a yogurt in front of me and fixed herself a bowl of cereal. Oh hell. Oh, this was not good. I needed a cold shower.

"Carla, I'm sorry for what happened between you and my father. He seemed upset when I came home." She was hiding something, but what, I couldn't conjecture. My mind was mushy and refused to work, not with those so-called gifts close at hand.

The mark had faded on my neck and although I was still upset, I felt better than ever before.

Wanting to hit the ball and find Robinson and kick the hell out of Carpenter's butt. I felt strange, yes, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

We used up the entire morning and late afternoon exhibiting our talents. I must say, Cyder wasn't weak despite her age and the way she looked. Taylor, the poor, poor, guy had been her favorite test subject and well, he wasn't likely to come back any time soon , which was a shame since my house needed a good cleaning.

Cyder stopped gliding across the room and wrinkled her nose in thought. "Dad's very good at it. I haven't tried it, because Uncle Jean-Claude doesn't want me to hurt someone by accident, but I can, yes."

Cyder laughed. "Nope. Not strong enough for that yet. But I would like to call foxes when I can. My turn, can you summon demons?"

True evil was something I understood. My brother called it his living, but evil by choice? No, I would never understand that, even if I lived to be hundreds of years old.

"Yes, by way of me, but I'm losing my ability to taste stuff too. I think it has to do with me becoming more like a vampire."

"No, he could with his human servant-" Cyder stopped, horror painting her face ashen. I felt something, something in the air stir, and Cyder began to shake.

Damn, I didn't like this Jean-Claude. He had to be a bad guy in order to put such fear on Cyder's face. I tried getting her to talk about him, and about what he knew, but she wouldn't utter one word, saying only that she would explain later.

"Hearken, and assist me, I am taking this boat to the saints of God," I pushed the paper sailboat I had made (I'm poor, remember?) and finished chanting, "And I desire to ask for a little magic."

The water in the bowl grew to be a nauseating green color, a good sign that the invocation was working.

It was supposed to call forth the ghost of a murdered man and it did. I could feel his presence surrounding me, drawing on the magic I had willed to be my own.

Now for the hard part, I thought. I took out the bundle of herbs I had gathered and dropped them into the dish. "I invoke brown, white, speckled, colored, and black plants. They are to protect this person, the ghost I hold within the bowl, from ills sent by the gods and ills sent by those stronger than he. The father is the sky, the mother is the earth, the root is the ocean, I welcome you all."

I took a deep breath, my chest heaving from the power that this was taking. "With the might that is yours, with the power and the force that is yours, O Mother, O Father, rescue this man, ghost not by choice, I am making the remedy to be the one he trusts, the one he holds dear, to give me the answers that I seek."

My eyes grew wide in horror as I realized that I couldn't handle the struggle for the ghost's soul. I screamed again, fighting it. Fighting to breathe as O Mother and O Father tried taking me into the bowl to join the ghost.

I firmly planted both my hands on either side of the dish, refusing to go down without a fight. All around me my ghosts appeared, each one trying to grab a hold of me to keep me from falling, but the force was too great. I watched in horror as an invisible force slashed at my arms, drawing blood.

Just when I felt that my hands were going to be pulled from my body, a voice behind me yelled the words I could not no matter how hard I tried muster up the skill to voice.

"Black-luggie, hammer-head, rowan-tree and red thread. Put the powers to the speed and correct the wrong decreed."

The bowl stopped rocking, the water calmed, and thank the spirits that had been protecting me, I no longer felt like a needle being pushed into the cloth, pinpointing where to sew.

I agreed with her. But what I had done I had done for Robinson and I most definitely was going to tell him that when he got back, if he got back.

"Listen, O blood, instead of flowing, instead of pouring forth thy warm stream. Stop, O blood, like a wall. Stop like a hedge. Stop like a reef in the sea: like stiff sedge in the moss, like a boulder in the field and like the pine in the wood."

"Never call worth something you can't handle. You may have ghost-blood in your veins but ye are not of the witch-blood. Remember that. Always."

"Why are you here?" I asked, feeling that I should change the locks on the doors and soon.

"Cyder thought that you would be upset with her for leaving so quickly. I came to see if you were and to thank you for being her friend today. She rarely gets to go out."

"I could feel it, like I could feel you losing the battle for holding the spell. Why on Earth would you summon O Mother and O Father? Why not just the spirit alone?"

I chewed my lip. To tell you the truth, I hadn't even consider calling the ghost alone. God, I'm dumb.

"I thought maybe the ghost would know where Carpenter was. Carpenter was the one that had killed him."

I cursed as the ghost I had worked so hard to summon just appear with a snap of the finger beside Camilla. I hate her.

With a flicker of my mind, I reached out, gently, so not to alarm Camilla and give her a clue as to what I was about to do. The ghost wavered, sensing another one to obey.

Did I mention that I'm telepathic to my ghosts? I am. Did I mention that I could also make them turn against the one that had summoned them?

That's another thing, never force a ghost to do something it doesn't want to do. Of course, that rule doesn't really apply to me, but I follow it nevertheless.

I wanted to be trusted in the ghost world, not feared like so many others that had my gift.

The ghost popped out of existence and popped right back in, only this time completely mine to give the orders and I did.

"Where's Carpenter?" I asked, ignoring Camilla's startled gasp. Ah, sometimes I loved being me.

I remembered a lesson Robinson and my younger brother had drilled into me about demons: no beautiful woman would remain undefiled, no ruler or prince would be safe if demons were allowed to listen to and fulfill men's evil desires.

They had grabbed it off of a poem by William of Paris, but the meaning was clear enough for me to thank whatever higher power up there that my younger brother had to deal with it and not me.

Except Carpenter, according to his latest victim, had done just that, called forth a very nasty demon named Shaddai and wouldn't you know? Camilla and I were the only ones that could defeat it.

Of course the first thing I did was call up my brother, except he couldn't be reached and would you please leave a message at the beep?

I heard Camilla in the background, talking to Jean-Claude in hushed tones, although her voice was getting louder by the minute. Guess "Uncle" wasn't happy with our plans.

I had tried repeatedly to get her to leave and let me handle the situation alone, but she had replied rather calmly that Asher had ordered that I be watched and guarded at all times.

If I lived through this I most definitely was going to stake him despite his un-dead gorgeous looks and cute butt.

It won't matter that Asher's death would leave Cyder fatherless. She could live with me; I had plenty of room and ghosts for her to play with.

I was worried about Robinson as well. He was powerful enough in his own right. But there was only so much a see-through ghost could do against a demon that would rather eat him and use his ghostly bones for a toothpick.

Camilla settled the phone back on its hook, her face pale, but eyes swimming with suppressed excitement.

After four long days of fretting over not doing anything, I was about to see some action, even if it was the dead meat kind of thrill.

Camilla gave me a dirty look. "I'm bonded to him. He won't say anything or risk losing me."

I glanced at her, respect sharp on my face. "You would be willing to leave him if he doesn't keep his word?"

"Yes," she curtly replied, leading the way towards her car. I wasn't about to risk my bike, not with the threat of demon guts being spattered, so Camilla's miniature automobile was the one selected. I tried not to be too claustrophobic, but failed, miserably.

Carpenter being the bastard that he was had been right under my nose the entire time, can you believe it?

It was still late daylight, keeping Asher out of the fight. I was thankful for that. But some small part of me wished he would be there and wide-awake.

Cyder wasn't in any danger, although my heart had frozen solid when the ghost had first said Candlelight. The image of a broken fox kept replaying in my head until Camilla told me that she was safe with Jean-Claude. The big vamp of the city proved to be useful after all.

To keep both our minds busy and not dwelling on the upcoming fight, Camilla told me about her ghost Rally, apparently, he was helping Death's student deal with some issues of her own. Death, now that was one guy we could of used at the moment, but I refused to voice the plead

I wasn't too keen on professional killers anyway, even if his hits were all monsters. There had been a time in our history when people would have called me one of those freaks because of my ability to see and hear ghosts.

Candlelight was quiet, seemingly forsaken during the daytime hours. My heart picked up speed when I saw the car parked in front and heard Camilla's sharp intake of breath.

It felt like the juice of a rotten orange was being squeezed all over my body, sticky and cold. Smelled like it too and the feeling was coming from the car. I nodded to Camilla to get out. She was the witch, better at handling orange-smelling creatures than I was.

Camilla slowly moved forward, gathering up her power for it to flow around her. I watched, my mouth hanging open and shrieked when she was picked up by a whirlwind of force and thrown into the wall hard enough that I could see her neck snap.

Camilla's car suddenly began to rock and I had no time to think about what that large popping sound had been. I cried, struggling to get out, my tears hot against my skin.

I wore a dress of pale stone-colored satin, long, and flowing, it seemed never to end as I soared through the air in the arms of the man I loved.

"I've always wanted to fly," I whispered as his face draws near and I scream because it wasn't Asher, it was Carpenter and I wanted this nightmare to end, but on and on it kept going until finally I stopped resisting.

My eyes watered. Dust does that to me, especially when I'm surrounded by a million dust balls that it hurts. I had no idea where I was. Away from Candlelight, I knew that much. The demon, do you really want me to describe him?--was standing just inches from my face and if he moves one more inch I could bite him. My teeth were ready, although my stomach rebelled on even thinking about tasting such a foul creature.

It was hot where I was being kept, which had to be a cellar judging by the wine bottles. Maybe I was at Candlelight, after all, but I wasn't. Nothing, below, or above me, felt like Asher's touch.

The demon moved and damn it, he was now so close my teeth were already nipping. I tried gathering my power, but the demon, the very much-informed demon, knew it, and had taken me by the throat and that was it. No calling out for help unless I wanted my neck snapped like poor Camilla.

My chest tightened at the thought of the witch. Was her body still at the entrance of Candlelight? I hoped not. She didn't deserve to be gawked at by strangers and if nobody found her by nightfall, blood, even spoiled blood, would be cherished by the vampires, to Hades with respect for the dead.

"Why?" I choked out, wanting to get this over with. If I was to die, let me die talking, using what last resource I had left. The demon, all right, if you must know, was the ugliest looking creature on the face of the Earth. Green-colored skin, with three eyes, one right smack on the forehead, and bad breath greeted me as he stared at me.

"I was summoned by my master to bring forth pain. Emotional," with that the demon had now taken on the image of Camilla. I swallowed, "and physical."

My broken arm was the evidence of the physical aspect of the spell but the emotional, oh no.

"Yes," the demon purred, "I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. You see, dear Carla, Robinson was never taken by Carpenter. He was taken by me."

The demon held out his hand and I yelled on the top of my lungs when I saw Robinson, weak and barely visible, appear. This was not good. He was so badly hurt.

"Knowing that it would capture your attention, I blamed Robinson's disappearance on Carpenter, since you two lovebirds had a past and all. But that Asher, that bloody vampire got in the way."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I let him ramble as I tried once again to fight the force that was holding me down. My small finger moved by will of my own.

"Damn him! He realized what I was and tried stopping me by marking you. Of course, he couldn't do it without the help of his daughter. Something to do with a bond thing. So he allowed his daughter to get to know you and when he finally felt her acceptance, he gave you his power, knowing that it would be the only way to stop me."

Marks? Now this was getting interesting. I listened with half an ear as I worked to get my other hand free.

"Poor little vamp. He shouldn't have tried to stop me. Too bad he won't live long enough to regret his mistake."

"Just when I thought I had you, the witch, bloody witch," he says bloody a lot, doesn't he? "Happened to come across my presence in Candlelight. So I knocked her out and took her place. Easy! Very, very easy."

My eyes caught sight of Robinson mustering up his power and I had a plan. I gave Robinson a pointed look and reluctantly Robinson nodded. He knew what I wanted, didn't like it, but we had no choice.

"Now!" I screamed. Robinson, my boy, my wonderful boy, whipped his body towards the demon as I called up what little power I had left freely and gave it to the ghost.

I realized it as Robinson began to fade. Just when I felt that I could go no longer, I felt a presence wash over me, fanning my used up strength, forcing a spark out of nothing.

Don't ask me how, don't you dare ask me how, but he was. I didn't have time to think of what that meant, I had a demon to kill. And when that demon was toast, only then did I think of what Asher had done.

A noise, coming from the stairwell drew my attention back to reality. I saw Asher suddenly appear now that the demon was dead and the spell to keep him hidden broke.

He was huddled on the floor, holding both Camilla and Cyder in his arms. He looked weak, but he wasn't the one that drove me off my feet and on the ground beside him. It was Cyder. She looked like hell; her lip bloodied and eyes swollen shut, my god, what had happened?

Asher reading my mind again--how does he do that?--answered me. "She fought him. Fought him hard. Carla, I'm afraid she won't make it."

Asher looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. It was then that I realized I could meet his eyes without falling. What the hell?

He looked at me, but burrowed in, his jaw forcefully letting go when he broke the skin on my hand. He hid his face in Cyder's hair, fighting the blood lust for the sake of his daughter.

Camilla, I love her now, even though I don't really know her since I've been talking to the demon and not her for the past several days, touched Asher's face and bared her neck to him. With a groan, he took what was offered.

I fed Cyder, nearly shaking her with my good hand to get her to swallow and when she did, I cried.

When it was all over, when I had Robinson back at my house playing with Cyder, only at that moment did I struggle to find out what had happened.