Jon found himself dumbfounded for a moment, unable to find his voice or even the words to reply. It was as if she had him under some spell, and he realized she was not one to be trifled with. "Research," he managed to say finally, pulling her hand away from his chest. "I'm an actor. Perhaps you've heard about the film being made here in RhyDin."

"Ah, yes....The vampire film," she replied, her hand freed to brush some hair back from her face. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes following that small movement, almost against his will. "I wonder if your Miss Rivka will portray our kind in a favorable or unfavorable light."

Jon smiled as the conversation turned to Lelah and the movie. It was what he was there to discuss, after all, and he always found it amusing when people asked him to spill the beans regarding the plot when he was sworn under contract to secrecy, not to mention threat of death from Lelah. "I'm afraid you'll just have to go see it and find out for yourself."

She mirrored his smile, looking almost as amused. "I could just pull it from your mind, like I did your name."

"With or without my permission?" he countered.

"With, of course," she smiled up at him, heels bringing her nearly, but not quite, up to his height. "I wonder if you can tell me something, Jonathan. Why is that Miss Rivka did not choose one of us to play the lead role?"

A smile flickered against Jon's lips. The age-old question had arisen - why choose a mere actor to play a part when you could have the real thing" He could simply tell her that no vampires had auditioned, but instead he chose to continue their little verbal sparring match. "Because it's called acting."

"Yes, pretending to be something you're not and being paid for it. The thought has always intrigued me."

"Do you wish to be an actress?" he asked, arching a curious brow, and she laughed.

"No, of course not. I am quite content with my life. I am only curious about yours."

He considered that a moment, a thought crossing his mind. "Perhaps an exchange of information then."

"You wish to know about my world, is that it?"

"Something like that," he admitted.

"There is a price to be paid for such knowledge, Jonathan."

"I'm sure we can reach an agreement..." He faltered, realizing she had not yet shared her own name. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Josephine," she answered his question before he even had a chance to ask it. "Let's continue this conversation in private, shall we?"

Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses...

~~~~~

"Kiss me," she told him as she pulled him into the room, turning to face him, hands cupping his face and moving back through his hair, pressing her body close to his, so close she could feel his pulse leap at her touch, his face flushing, his body stirring with desire.

His mind flashed a warning, but his body betrayed him, and he found his arms going around her waist to pull her tightly against him. She wanted him - that much was obvious - but it was his blood she craved, not his body. Still, he ignored the warning, as if be-spelled, and bent his head to meet her lips, moaning when she opened her mouth to accept and deepen his kiss.

Her tongue tangled with his, her fingers buried in his hair. His eyes drifted closed, losing himself to her seduction, all wariness melting away in her embrace. Her mouth clamped against his, her hands grasping hold of his head, as she bit into his tongue, suckling the sweet nectar of his blood that flowed so sweetly forth. He groaned and flinched, trying to pull away, but she was too strong. Old and practiced in the art of seduction, he never had a chance.

It was painful at first, like nothing he'd ever felt before, but then, the pain slowly faded until it was only a dull ache, throbbing in rhythm with the beat of his heart, blood flowing from his mouth to hers. He felt himself growing weaker, shaking like a leaf, unable to withdraw, completely at her mercy. She drank and drank for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality, only a few minutes, and then she abruptly pulled away, licking his blood from her lips, a hint of white teeth too sharp to be human smiling at him behind bloodied lips. Her alabaster complexion was flushed, while his had paled, and he felt his knees grow weak.

She caught him as he sank to the floor, looking at him with sympathetic eyes, sharing his thoughts and some of his pain. "You carry too much guilt upon your shoulders, Jonathan. You can't be everything to everyone. You can't make everyone happy."

He only looked back at her, his heart slowing, tears sliding down his face, feeling strangely at peace, as though he was close to death.

She reached up and caught a single tear upon a fingertip, looking at him as if in wonder and awe. "I don't remember what it is to cry, Jonathan. I don't remember what it is to feel. Help me remember. Help me remember what it is to be alive, and I'll give you back your memories. All of them. I promise you."

He took a shaky breath, overcome with fear and emotion. She'd taken from him his most precious belonging, and he'd let her have it. He realized that he had, in fact, enjoyed it. It was a high price to pay, but he had been willing to pay it. He nodded his head silently, tears streaming down his face, and shuddered as he watched her bite into her own wrist, blood dripping down her arm, his stomach lurching in revulsion.

She offered him her wrist, the metallic smell of blood assaulting his senses. "It's the only way, Jonathan," she urged him, her voice like a siren's call, lulling him into a state of near ecstasy. "Take it. Reclaim your life and know what it is to be one of us."

He hardly heard her words over the pounding of his own heartbeat, his mind racing with fear and doubt and hope. "Reclaim your life," she'd said. It was all he'd heard. He pressed his mouth against her wrist and accepted her blood, like the cursed gift that it was.

~~~~~

(Lyrics from "You Took the Words Right out of My Mouth" by Jim Steinman.)

It was a perfect summer day, one of those days that felt like it would go on forever. The sun was shining, and Jon and Lena were running through a field of flowers, laughing and chasing butterflies, until they were all out of breath.

"Jonny..." Lena said as she flopped down in the cool grass, twirling a curling lock of Jon's hair around a fingertip as he laid his head in her lap.

"Hm?" he replied, lazily closing his eyes, the sunshine warm and soothing against his face, her touch relaxing him and making him feel sleepy.

"Do you think Mum and Da will get divorced?" she asked, fingers combing through his curls. "Do they think they'll separate us" I don't want you to go away."

Jon frowned, eyes still closed, brows drawn downward. "They're not going to get divorced, Lena," he reassured his sister, though he secretly shared her worries. "They just argue sometimes. That's all."

"I heard Mum crying yesterday," she told him sadly.

Jon opened his eyes, squinting into the sunlight to look up at his sister, tears gathering in the blue eyes that were so much like his own. He sat up and reached over to brush the tears from her face. It hurt him to see her that way, and though he didn't let her know, it made him angry that his father was the cause of her sadness.

"Don't cry, Lena. I promise, no matter what happens, I won't let anything come between us."

"You better not, Jon, because I'd be lonely without you."

"Don't be silly, Midge....If anything ever happens to me, you still have Caro and Ollie and Lala and..."

"But they're not you!" Lena wailed and threw her arms around his neck, breaking into sobs. "Promise me you'll never leave. Promise me you won't let them send you away!"

Taken aback by his sister's sudden and unexpected outburst, Jon wrapped his arms around her and gently rubbed her back. "I promise, Lena. Please don't cry." He wasn't sure what to do to console her, other than make promises he wasn't sure he could keep. "What do you say we pick Mum some flowers?" he asked, a thought coming to mind that might make both his mother and sister happy.

She seemed to brighten a little, smiling back at her older brother, and he felt a flood of relief, happy the dark cloud had lifted, if only for a short while.

"I think she'd like that," she agreed, grabbing his hand as she stood, tugging him to his feet after her.

"I know she would," he said, plucking a daisy that was growing wild in the field and tucking it behind his sister's ear. He grinned mischievously. "Last one home is a rotten egg!" he teased playfully.

She laughed and took off toward home, plucking flowers as she went, and he followed, pretending not to have a care in the world, though his heart was aching. He didn't really know if his parents were going to stay together or not, but he didn't want to think about that now. All he wanted to think about was putting smiles on the faces of the two people he loved most in all the world. That was all that mattered.

Several weeks later...

"Where's Josephine?" Jon asked, as the girl opened the door, allowing him into the vampire's lair. No one was there, it seemed. No one but the girl.

As he looked around, he realized, as if for the first time, that there were no windows. Not a single one. No slits in the walls, nothing that might allow a single shaft of sunlight into the small space. The place was as dark as a crypt, but as comfortable as a luxury apartment, lit by artificial means, probably more for his sake than for theirs.

"She's not here," the girl replied, closing the door behind him.

"Where is she" I need her help," he said, sounding almost frantic as he turned to face her. The evening had been going well, he'd thought, until Katt had started asking questions. He wasn't sure what had gone wrong after that. They'd argued, and he'd tried to explain, but she didn't seem to understand. No one did. She had enough problems of her own, it seemed. He'd taken her home finally and tucked her into bed, kissing her brow, leaving her to rest peacefully, while his own heart was in torment.

The vampire laid a hand against his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts, as if trying to soothe and console him. She could see he was troubled, and though she wasn't really interested in helping him, it was a means to an end.

"What is it, Jon?" she asked quietly, feigning concern. "What's happened" Is there anything I can do to help?" She looked up at him with deceptively innocent, doe-like eyes that seemed so caring and sincere.

Jon's mouth formed a thin line, his jaw tightening, studying her thoughtfully, as if considering her request. There was only one thing he wanted. What did it matter who gave it to him"

She met his gaze unflinchingly, licking her lips and moving closer, sliding her hands up his chest to loosen the tie around his neck. "Just tell me what you want."

He made no move to stop her, though he had to stifle a shudder when she touched him. "I want to remember," he told her finally, unable to hide the frustration and desperation from his voice.

Her fingers deftly loosened his tie, sliding it away from his neck, pushing the jacket away from his shoulders.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, his voice barely a whisper. He knew he was taking a risk, but he was desperate. He'd tried everything else to no avail. If he wanted to reclaim his own past, he felt he had no other choice. "I should wait for Josephine," he protested weakly, making no move to stop her.

"Josephine isn't here," she replied, peeling the jacket away from his arms. "I am."

"Who am I?" he asked finally, his voice breaking with emotion, blue eyes full of anguish. "I don't know who I am, only who I'm supposed to be."

She tossed his tie and jacket aside and worked the top buttons of his shirt open, desire like hunger burning inside her. "I can help if you let me," she told him, letting him mistake her desire for compassion.

Her fingers slid through his hair, her lips grazing his neck. She only kissed him at first, feeling the leap of pulse beneath her lips, his heart beating rapidly, the sweet promise of his blood so tantalizingly close, just beneath the surface, the smell of him filling her senses, further stirring her desire.

"Just do it," he whispered finally, surrendering himself to her seduction, giving her permission, tensing and then relaxing as he felt her teeth break the surface, arms going around her to pull her close, as if to lock her in a lover's embrace. It wasn't what he wanted really. He wanted something else, someone else, but for now, she was all he had.

She smiled at his reaction, eyes closing as her mouth closed on the wound. No more pain, Jon, she told him in her head. Only pleasure. She heard him moan as she suckled his neck, his blood like the sweetest honey flowing into her mouth, invigorating, strengthening, more intoxicating than any drug.

She closed her eyes, his life playing out in her mind's eye, like pictures on a movie screen. There was sorrow, tragedy, but happiness, too. Laughter amidst the tears. In every life, a little rain must fall. One could not know joy without knowing sorrow. She drank it all in, every sweet moment, along with his blood, forging a bond between them that Josephine had been careful to avoid.

Kit smiled at that. The old vampire's loss had become the young vampire's gain. She had laid claim to him, and as far as she was concerned, he was hers now.

Jon awoke to find a dark-haired woman sitting beside him, what looked like a sketchpad propped upon her lap, one hand moving slowly over the paper as if she was drawing something. Rather than feeling groggy, he felt oddly invigorated, like he'd slept for days or taken some drug that had boosted his metabolism. He watched her for a moment before sitting up, glancing around to get his bearings and sort out where he was. Though wide awake, he felt a little lost, like he'd taken a long journey far away from home, so long, he'd almost forgotten who he was and where he came from.

"What..." he started, shoving a hand through the disheveled mess of curls atop his head, and then she looked at him and he remembered. Josephine was her name, or so she'd said. Fragments of memories flashed through his brain, memories not his own. It was confusing, at best.

"How do you feel?" she asked, eyes fixed to her sketching, and he realized with a jolt that she must be drawing him.

What had happened" How long had he been there" Where was the girl"

She seemed to hear his questions, though the words had not yet left his mouth, and she finally set the pad down to meet his gaze. Her eyes were shining like colored glass from an alabaster face, hard and inhuman, and he felt himself shudder.

"You needn't fear me, Jonathan," her voice was silken and seductive, like a woman's caress. "I mean you no harm."

"What the hell happened?" he asked, trying to remember. He only remembered coming here, finding the girl alone, asking her for help. What had happened then" He narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember.

"Kit happened," the vampire replied. "You shouldn't have let her feed from you. She's infatuated with you, obsessed. She wants to turn you, make you her fledgling."

Jon's eyes widened as he tried to sort out the vampire's meaning. "Fledgling" You mean, she wants to make me like you, like her."

"Yes," she replied calmly, flipping the sketchpad closed and setting it aside. "She wants to make you one of us."

The look on his face revealed revulsion, horror at the very thought of becoming like them. "I don't want to be like you. I don't want to live forever."

She shrugged, as if what he wanted was of little importance. "You would make an exquisite vampire."

"I don't want to..." He stumbled to his feet, suddenly horrified by the chain of events he'd inadvertently set into motion. "I should never have come here."

"What's done is done, Jonathan. It can't be undone. You want your memories, and I can give them back to you, but I warned you....There is a price to be paid."

"Your price is too high. I'd rather die than be like you!" He backed away, crashing into a table, a precious antique vase shattering on the cold, marble floor, but he couldn't back away fast enough. He turned toward the door, finding her already there, moving with such speed and grace, it almost seemed as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

She reached out to touch his face, a gentle brush of fingertips against his chiseled jaw, a deceivingly innocent smile gracing her face. "Beautiful man, I have told you....I am not going to harm you. I am trying to help you. It is Kit you must be wary of. She is like a petulant child who must always have her way."

He flinched at her touch, but didn't pull away, fear coiling like a snake in the pit of his stomach. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't come here anymore," she instructed him. "I will tell you where to meet me, and I will give you back your memories, but it will not be easy, Jonathan. She nearly drained you, and I had to give you my blood or you would have died."

"But..." he started, looking confused, unsure why it was different this time. "You've already given me your blood."

"Yes," she replied, dropping her hand from his face and fixing him with a serious look. "In small amounts. But this..." She frowned, and he wondered why she looked so concerned. "It is like a drug, Jonathan. The more you drink, the more you crave. I told you there would be a price to pay, and this is it."

"Are you saying I'm addicted to vampire blood?" he asked, mortified. Was there even a cure for that' "What happens if I....If I stop?" A feeling of dread passed over him, like a dark cloud that hung over his head, like he had just been given a death sentence.

"It will be painful, worse than your addiction to cocaine. Most who surrender to the embrace become like us."

"So, you're saying I either become like you or die."

She shook her head. "No, I am saying that it will be difficult, but you knew this from the start. Tell me, Jonathan, is it really worth all this pain to remember a past that you might be better off forgetting?"

Jon quirked a brow at her, wondering just how much she knew about him and had gleaned from the small snatches of blood she'd already taken from him. "Why do you ask?"

Her fingers found his cheek again and brushed the light shadow of beard he had yet to shave. It made him look distinguished and older than his twenty-five years. If she ever turned him, he would be clean-shaven, as beautiful as Adonis. "Some would think you lucky not to remember. You've been given a fresh start, a clean slate. You can start over."

He pulled her hand away from his cheek and frowned sadly. If only that were true. "There is no starting over, Josephine. Whether I remember my past or not, those who know me don't forget."

"You are too hard on yourself, Jonathan. Those who really care for you will not only forget but forgive."

"You don't know my family," he mumbled and pulled away. He'd spent enough time there. He needed time to think.

"If you need me, all you need do is call."

Jon furrowed his brows at her, confused. He didn't have her phone number, and she had never mentioned having one.

She smiled, as if sensing his confusion and tapped a finger against his forehead. "Here. All you need do is call, and I will hear you. We are connected now, Jonathan. I will know if you need me."

Jon shuddered, a little frightened by her claim. "I have to go," he told her, reaching behind him for the doorknob, wondering why he'd ever come here to begin with. It was almost like he'd traded one addiction for another. Had it been worth the price? Only time would tell.

Josephine watched him go, a sad smile on her face. She knew more about Jonathan Granger than anyone, more than he even knew about himself, and she knew in her heart that she'd seen him again, one way or another.