"So, Adrian is coming to Meadowsweet Ridge?" Gideon asked, his expression reflecting distaste for the idea. "Yes," she responded, the one word loaded with defiance. Yet she lay a hand on his arm, anticipating his response. Gideon closed his eyes and turned his head. Every muscle and bone in his hands tensed, defined in stark relief, as he fought not to clench them into fists. "It is, of course, your prerogative," he said quietly. Pandora studied the ramrod straight back of the man beside her. The arm she was touching felt like a metal bar. "Gideon," the healer said gently. "Yes, it is my prerogative, but I wish you would tell me why you are so against it." One dark eye regarded her wryly, eyebrow raised like a signal flag. "You know my opinion of...Talbot." Gideon's beautiful pronunciation made the name an insult. "I do not understand why you would willingly risk exposing your child to such a harmful influence." "Adrian would never hurt Aisling!" Pandora exclaimed, looking surprised at such a suggestion. "Do you think not?" Pandora glanced around the parlour at Oakwoods. Nobody was paying any particular attention to them. Aisling, who had discovered the joys of walking and not looked back since, was the centre of careful attention. All three of the Oakwoods Boys were trying to keep him out of trouble, while Nicholas watched with a benevolent eye and an amused expression. "I haven't seen your roses in a while, dear," Pandora said, exerting gentle pressure on Gideon's arm. "Will you show them to me?" It took him a second, then he inclined his head. "Of course," he said, rising. "We'll be in the conservatory," he informed Joshua. Josh waggled the duck puppet with which he was trying to divert Aisling. "Go ahead," he laughed. "We're fine." He winked at Pandora. Gideon and Pandora walked in silence down the hall to the conservatory. When Gideon slid the glass door open and ushered her in, Pandora took a moment to...well, to stop and smell the roses. A clever system of ventilation kept the perfume of the pampered blooms from being overpowering. The roses were Gideon's hobby, an outlet for his artistic tastes. He felt that cultivating roses was an acceptable pursuit for a gentleman -- appearances meant so much to him. He paused to study a cluster of blooms of deep red, giving himself a chance to marshal his thoughts and curb his emotions. He knew he would no longer be able to avoid the subject of Adrian Talbot. * * * "Gideon," Pandora said, when the silence threatened to stretch into infinity, "talk to me, love. What is so terrible about Adrian Talbot that his very name drives you to fury?" The Baron sat down heavily on a bench under a spreading bush. He folded his hands in his lap so that she wouldn't see them shake. "You know what," he replied, eyes downcast. "His behaviour at the Golden Fangs ceremonies, taunting me and the Brotherhood..." Pandora shook her head. "Dear one, you cannot make me believe that a few petty insults from a sore loser would make you so angry. Had it been anyone else, you would have laughed it off. You are not that thin-skinned, Gideon. And why would he have chosen you as a target for his insults if there was not some history between you? No, there is more." "Yes. There is more." "Does it involve Ravensbrook?" He jumped, as if stung or jolted by electricity. "How did you know?" "Nothing else would make you hate someone so utterly, Gideon. So, tell me. You've been keeping this inside too long. Tell me what he did to you." His eyes focused on the far side of the room, where two-storey high glass panels gave the roses sunlight that their owner never saw. He started to speak, so softly that Pandora had to lean towards him. "I do not know how long I had been in France," he began. "Time meant nothing in that place. Ravensbrook was still delighting in tormenting me, he had not yet tired of this sport. There were others there, his servants and minions, a rag-tag assortment of such dregs as amused him. Most of the time, he did not even have to recruit them. They flocked to him, drawn by his reputation or his damnable charisma... "Ravensbrook would introduce these "friends" to me. They joined in my torment, sometimes with sex acts, sometimes with beatings or torture. Ravensbrook would always be present to observe and make certain that they didn't go too far. 'You must not destroy my pet too soon,' he would say..." Gideon shuddered, but mastered himself while Pandora could only watch. Now she understood why he never spoke of those times. "There was often someone new, another mocking face. I learned the hard way not to expect help from these hangers-on. "One night, I was hauled naked from my cell by my master and dragged into one of the many bedrooms in the keep -- one where whips and chains were standard decorations. There were stocks at one end of the room, and Ravensbrook locked me into one of these. I had learned quickly not to resist or fight back. Though I no longer cared about anything, I noticed that there was someone lounging on the bed. Once again I was being offered for the entertainment of one of my master's "guests". I did not recognize this one; a dark-haired, rather pretty young man with remarkable blue-green eyes and a cruel smile. "'Did I not promise you fine entertainment, my dear boy?' Ravensbrook asked this stranger. "'And what is this?' asked the boy mockingly. "He was English! I dared to hope, to think... Could I appeal to a fellow Englishman for help, one of about my own age...? "'This is my greatest treasure,' Ravensbrook smiled, stroking my cheek. 'My own little catamite, my pet aristocrat.' "His ears pricked up at that, and he said 'Aristocrat?' with interest. "'Ah, thought that would interest you,' Ravensbrook said to him. 'Yes, dear Adrian, this is a member of the vaunted ruling class, one of those lordly beings who would spit on a mere actor. A lowly Baron, mind you, but still far above a wandering player." He grabbed me by the hair, forcing my chin up. "And he is a Puritan, is that not delicious?' "Of course, I had never embraced my father's cold religion, nor had I ever raised a hand to a player of any kind. But Ravensbrook's words seemed to inflame this strange young man, so that he got off the bed and came over to the stocks where I was held. He, too, was naked; but he seemed totally unashamed. And he stared at me, with those eyes... and there was madness in them and my hope died. "'Oh, aye?" he taunted. 'A Puritan, and a noble?' He spat in my face. 'What a fine catch. Has it a name?' "'Baron Gideon Redoak,' Ravensbrook smiled. 'Or what's left of him. Young lord, this is my newest friend, Adrian Talbot. He's one of those players that your religion would have put in the stocks and whipped.' "Talbot smiled slowly. I saw no love for me in that smile. "'I see you have already gone halfway to reversing that situation,' the player said, eyes gleaming. "'I thought I would give you the honours,' Ravensbrook said. He turned to a rack that held assorted whips, straps and other such implements. 'It would be the cat, would it not?' he inquired, fingering the dreadful nine-tailed whip in question. At Talbot's eager nod, my bloodmaster handed over the cat o'nine tails. 'Have fun,' was all he said. "The player's hand grasped the stock eagerly. Ravensbrook watched, his own eyes gleaming. And he swung that cat as if he would make me pay for every insult, every spurning, every closed door he had ever suffered. And afterwards, when the blood ran freely and my skin was in rags, they made me watch while they coupled. "His lusts satisfied, Ravensbrook got up to leave. 'I must go find some blood to keep him going,' he said, stroking my hair. He turned his eyes on Talbot, still lying in bliss on the bed. 'You may amuse yourself with him, if it pleases you.' With that, he left the room. "When I knew he was truly gone, I tried to appeal to this debauched boy, even though I knew it would be useless. He was my only chance. "'Help me,' I begged him, through the pain. "'Did you speak, milord?' mocked the player, sitting upright in the bed. "'Please help me,' I tried again, although I knew there would be no help from such a one. "'Oh, you want me to help you!' Talbot tumbled out of the bed and walked over to the stocks. 'Does it gall, oh most noble Baron, that you must beg for help from a lowly player's boy?' "I coughed, spasming in pain. Blood dribbled from my lips. "'Please,' I said. 'You are English. Help me.' "'Oh, yes, milord, I am English. And as much beneath your notice as a stray dog. Were we to meet on the street in London, Baron, you would whip me from your path. What matters it to you that there are children begging in the gutters, so long as your dinner awaits you in your warm ancestral hall? I, help you?'" He declared, "'I would help you to the kiss of sunlight, save I have no desire to take your place as Ravensbrook's plaything.' "Talbot spat and said no more. He left when Ravensbrook returned to the room, hurriedly donning his clothes. Ravensbrook taunted him for this desertion, but did not pursue him. "'What a tiresome child,' my bloodmaster said. 'Still, I predict a dark future for him if continues on his present path. I will keep an eye on him... it would not do for me to have a rival, now, would it?' "'Yours?' I dared to ask. "My sire laughed. "'No, young lord, not my get. He is the spawn of old Carrock, who rather stupidly allowed a rival master to stick a crossbow bolt into him. It left that arrogant young pup masterless. He seems to need someone to belong to, but he does not seem to fancy me. Pity. I did my best to cater to his debauched tastes.' "He held out the goblet he had brought with him, and I drank the blood forced on me. I never again saw the player in Ravensbrook's company. "I had hoped that he had somehow angered my sire, and that Ravensbrook had killed him," Gideon said to Pandora, as his narrative of remembered terror ended. "But no, over the years and decades I heard tales of Adrian Talbot, the actor vampire; and each tale confirmed his amorality. Imagine how I felt when he set foot upon that stage at the Golden Fangs! And when we met, face-to- face again..." He slowly steadied himself and looked at Pandora. "Now you know why I advise you not to trust him with your child," he said. Pandora was silent, absorbing the information Gideon had shared. During the telling she had often flinched, her body reacting with sympathetic pain to that which Gideon had endured. Now she sat very still, hands folded in her lap, eyes cast downwards. She had expected to hear something of this nature, but knew that nothing could have truly prepared her to deal with the absolute horror of the actuality. She knew there was little she could do to comfort Gideon; no way to erase a lingering pain from a scar long- yet ill- healed. He spoke of echoes, of memories traced into tissue. These things the body remembered, even if the mind failed. And Gideon had not told her this for comfort, but for warning. She had, after all, insisted. Gideon gazed at her as if expecting her to speak. When she did not, he broke the silence. " Well?" he asked calmly. Pandora looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I--I don't know- -" she broke off, words eluding her. "Will you still allow Adrian to visit?" Gideon asked pointedly. Pandora swallowed hard to dissolve the lump in her throat, but when she spoke her voice was husky. "Yes, Gideon." "Pandora, did you not hear--?" She interrupted by lifting her hand. "I heard and felt everything," she said softly, wincing slightly as if in emphasis. She sighed. It was not her place to try to defend Adrian, even if she could. Truth was, she knew the man Gideon spoke of was unquestionably Adrian, that, even with the considerable changes the man had been through in the last few years, _that_ Adrian still existed within the complex layers which had been built over the many years. Adrian, the consummate actor, who used others before they could use him. Who expected nothing more than manipulation and gave nothing less. And in that lay the crux, really, for it was clear to her that the Adrian Gideon had encountered had been playing a role for Ravensbrook. His reasons were unclear to her, but no doubt self-preservation was a primary motivation. Only in hearing Adrian's side of the story could she hope to come to at least an approximation of the truth, of what the incident truly imported. "I do not comprehend cruelty, Gideon, in any guise or for any reason. I understand your feelings towards Adrian," she paused, laying a hand over his own and squeezing briefly before standing. She paced over to a lovely old French rose, lightly fingering a silken blush blossom whose petals drifted to the floor at her touch. She turned back to face the Baron. " But I have made my own decision about this man based on what I have come to know of him, on how I have come to know him personally. While what you have told me raises questions, certainly, it does not change my fundamental acceptance of him. I consider him a friend, Gideon. That is not something which comes lightly for me in any circumstance." "And am I not your friend as well? Would you trust him over me?" Gideon asked pointedly, still seated calmly on the bench. Pandora shook her head sadly. "It is not a matter of trust, Gideon. The trustworthiness of a friend is not something that can be quantified or compared. In the naming of one as "friend," it implies, for me, that there is trust. It exists without the asking, without the proving. I would like to speak with Adrian about this, if I may--" Gideon sighed. "You do not need my permission to speak with whomever you wish, Pandora." She held his gaze. "For this, I do. It concerns you." He squared his shoulders. It had been a long, long time even as vampires measured time. The memories would never fade, never heal; the hatred for Ravensbrook and his ilk still burned even though the bloodmaster was ashes and gone. Gideon's immortal flesh showed no scars from his time in the Keep, always he had been healed before being tortured again. His mind, his spirit... the scars there were deep and still pained him. It had been extremely difficult talking about his experiences to Pandora, and that had been only one small part of his torment in his master's hands. Yet... it was true, sharing the pain with someone else had lessened it. Perhaps he could face his memories, his hate; one aspect of them at least. Perhaps he could learn the other side of the story after over three hundred years of hating. "Yes," he said softly. "Speak to him." ****** Adrian stood up and paced to the fireplace, idly picking up the iron poker and shifting the burning logs. Then he turned to Pandora, having gathered his thoughts. 'I should never let him rehearse,' she thought ruefully. 'He will give me the dramatic version now.' He walked over to where she sat on the new sofa and plunked himself down beside her. "I was very stupid when I was young," he stated without preamble. "Oh, I know, I'm still stupid; but compared to when I was first turned, I'm a pure genius now." "Backhanded fishing for compliments isn't allowed," said Pandora mock-sternly. "Just tell me, Adrian; don't try to justify it." "I am not justifying," he said. "I am explaining. My vampiric sire was slain by an enemy of his, not very long after I was turned. His killer kept us--myself and T'Beth--as trophies for awhile, then turned us loose. T'Beth didn't want me hanging around her, and I had nobody else to turn to. I stayed in England for awhile, drifting from company to company, but always moving on before my new nature could be discovered. Shakespeare was not a stupid man. I wanted to... well, belong to somebody. I always had, you know, and it didn't feel right not to have... a master. Of any kind. "So I went searching for one. I met one or two other vampires. Some avoided me, they could sense I was trouble all wrapped up in one neat little package. But I heard rumours... I'm sure you know that vampires are the worst gossips in history. Rumours reached me of a powerful, sadistic vampire in France. I craved to be dominated. I set out to find this... de Sade of the undead. "He was not hard to find, although he seemed to have several different names. Etienne Corbeau. Kent Ravensbrook. Others. But one only had to set foot in the Loire Valley to feel his power, like a cancer hanging from the very grape vines. I found his Keep easily--what a perfect setting for the type of master I thought I sought! And he welcomed me gladly, as much in search of novelty and the depraved as I was." Adrian straightened and turned his gaze on Pandora. There was nothing in it but self-mockery as he said, "He was a little too depraved, even for me." "Did you ever meet Ravensbrook?" Adrian asked his audience of one. Pandora shook her head. "No, he was already True Dead by the time I met the Baron." "Ah. He was a beautiful man, Niamh. Much taller than I, somehow both more and less effeminate at the same time. And those eyes of his... you would do anything for him. I do not know his story, what made him what he was. Does it matter? He was evil. And he rejoiced in it--not one of your angsting, self-hating vampires, our Kent." Adrian's smile was self-deprecating, but Pandora didn't believe him for a second. Adrian rejoiced in what he was, all his angst was for show. But evil? No. Ravensbrook had been pure evil, from what little she knew about him. She remembered Gideon's voice as he'd told her of only one night in his sire's grim care, and shuddered. "But you tried to join with him, anyway," she said out loud. "Why?" "Because he was so beautiful, and masterful," Adrian said. "Because I needed a master, and I did not then know the sheer nakedness of his depravity. I learned quickly, however, that I was in well over my foolish head. He welcomed me--I was someone new, and pretty. He told me he had a favourite toy already, though, his 'little catamite'. I thought he meant a child, that's what the term usually means. He wanted to know if I wished to play with this pet of his. I said yes, because I thought if it was a child, I would free it, no matter what Ravensbrook would do to me. My days of hurting children were over, though if the only way I could free it was to kill it, then I would do so. Already, after only a few hours in that dreadful place, I knew that Ravensbrook was far more evil and cruel than even rumour gave him credit for, and that there was little hope of escape should I cross him." Adrian took a sip of the contents of his glass which, ironically, Pandora had obtained from the Baron. She, in turn, sipped her Glenfiddich. "So there I was, at the mercy of this sadistic vampire. I followed him to a bedroom that was more like a dungeon, full of whips and chains and things the Inquisition might have used. He bade me undress, and I thought perhaps that he had lied, and that he would use some of those things on me. There were one or two I wouldn't have minded... ah, no matter. I was afraid, Niamh, afraid of this powerful vampire, afraid of that keep, afraid for my life and my skin. However, he did not touch me, save with his hands and lips, and then just when he had teased me to the point where I was trembling with desire, he left. He was back within a short time, dragging with him his promised 'little catamite'. This was no child; though he was very young, he was a grown man. He was not even all that handsome, though he had nice eyes when I got the chance to see them. Obviously, he was terrified of Ravensbrook, terrified to the point of numb, unquestioning obedience. Still, though he was beaten and frightened, there was an air about him that I knew, for I had copied it often enough on the stage. It takes more than a Ravensbrook to kill the spirit of aristocracy. "'Did I not promise you fine entertainment, my dear boy?' Ravensbrook asked me. "'What is this?' I asked him. 'Is this your pet?' "I felt those great dark eyes look up at me when I spoke. "'This is my greatest treasure,' Ravensbrook said, patting the young man's cheek. 'My own little catamite, my pet aristocrat.' "'Aristocrat?' I echoed, thinking what a sorry pass one of the haughty nobles had come to. "'Ah, thought that would interest you,' Ravensbrook said to me. 'Yes, dear Adrian, this is a member of the vaunted ruling class, one of those lordly beings who would spit on a mere actor. A lowly Baron, mind you, but still far above a wandering player." He grabbed the wretch by the hair, forcing his chin up. "And he is a Puritan, is that not delicious?' "Puritan! Puritans had closed the theatres, forcing players into poverty and a life of wandering misery. Puritans were indirectly responsible for my becoming a vampire; for had the theatres not closed, I would not have been forced to seek a patron. This stranger had two strikes against him already, but he was too beaten for me to hate. "'Oh, aye?' I asked, feigning interest. "What is his name and title, then?' I got off the bed, so as to have a closer look at this toy of his. "'Baron Gideon Redoak,' Ravensbrook smiled. 'Or what's left of him. Young lord, this is my newest friend, Adrian Talbot. He's one of those players that your religion would have put in the stocks and whipped.' "I turned my head away, for I could sense what was coming. "'You already have provided the stocks, I see,' I said. 'And the whipping?' "'I thought I would give you the honours,' Ravensbrook said. He turned to a rack that held assorted whips, straps and other such implements. 'It would be the cat, would it not?' he inquired, fingering the dreadful nine-tailed whip in question. "I nodded. A cat o' nine tails is a dreadful weapon, Niamh, it leaves a man's flesh in tatters. I had no desire to use it on that poor boy in the stocks, but Ravensbrook pressed the stock into my hands with such force that I knew he meant to use it on me should I refuse to obey him. "I wanted to free that young man. But I knew that if I even tried, I would take his place, and that his master would devise unthinkable things to do to me. I always have been something of a coward. I did the only thing I could, and tried not to lay on the whip too heavily. But Ravensbrook watched every move we both made, as if he knew what I was thinking. Perhaps he did, he had powers the like of which I have never encountered since. I had to draw blood, to leave that young vampire a beaten hulk." He emptied his glass, and stared at the bottom of it. "Then Ravensbrook took me to his bed," he said simply, "and we had sex, even while the young Baron hung in chains and bled. "His lusts satisfied, Ravensbrook got up to leave. 'I must go find some blood to keep him going,' he said, going over and caressing that bleeding hulk as if he had not just forced me to flay him. He turned his eyes on me. 'You may amuse yourself with him, if it pleases you. But if he dies the true death, you take his place.' With that, he left the room. "'Help me,' the "catamite" demanded. "'You heard him,' I replied. "'Please help me,' he tried begging this time. "'I am sorry to see you reduced to begging for help,' I told him. 'But I cannot help you.' "He coughed, and blood went splattering everywhere. "'Please,' he said. 'You are English. Help me.' "I thought I heard Ravensbrook's footsteps in the hallway, so I spoke loudly when I answered. "'Oh, yes, milord, I am English. And as much beneath your notice as a stray dog. Were we to meet on the street in London, Baron, you would whip me from your path. What matters it to you that there are children begging in the gutters, so long as your dinner awaits you in your warm ancestral hall? I, help you?'" I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "'I dare not. It would be the true death of us both.' More loudly, for Ravensbrook's benefit, I said, "'I would help you to the kiss of sunlight, save I have no desire to take your place as Ravensbrook's plaything.' "Neither of us said more, and I left when Ravensbrook came back with blood for his pet." He got up and poured himself a shot from the bottle of scotch. "That keep was a dark and terrible place, Niamh, I was lucky to escape. It seems that Ravensbrook had left orders I was to be unmolested if I left, provided I was alone. Had I tried to take the Baron with me, I am convinced that neither of us would have survived. There were things guarding that keep, things that I am not certain even Ravensbrook fully controlled." Pandora thought of the cleansing of the keep, of the entity that had attacked and killed three vampires, and left Genevieve with a scar and Evan with a dislocated shoulder. Michael had told her of the impressions he'd felt when he'd opened the keep up and let green things grow there. The place had had evil imbedded in the very stones, he said. She didn't tell Adrian this, however. "So," Adrian said, swilling down the Scotch, "that is *my* side of the story." Pandora nodded and refreshed her drink. She sat back in her chair, staring thoughtfully into the amber contents of her glass. It had been difficult to hear the tale again, difficult to hear of Gideon's pain and suffering. One thing was clear, however; the stories were essentially the same, only the perspective differed, just as she had suspected. She took a sip of her scotch and then spoke. "You realize that Gideon would not have been able to perceive that you were acting a role," she stated quietly. "And yet, how much was made of my being a player," Adrian said, and Pandora could almost taste the steel of his irony. "Yet your whip was not a prop," Pandora pointed out. "And Gideon may have been a captive audience," she paused, grimacing at her unintentional pun, "but not a very sophisticated one. Pain has a way of levelling class inequities." Adrian indicated acquiescence to her point with a simple nod of his head. "You can make him understand," he said, and it was not quite a question. The healer sighed and stood, pacing restlessly to the fireplace just as Adrian had before her. "No, Adrian. _You_ must make him understand," she responded, turning to look at him pointedly. Adrian turned the full force of his gaze on her, but she was impervious. "You have got to be kidding," he said. "He'll kill me as soon as look at me." "Not if he's willing to listen to what you have to say. This animosity is eating him up. He's properly buried so much of his past with Ravensbrook; this is a long missing pound of flesh that needs to be committed to the earth or it will continue to torment him every time he sees you or hears your name." "And you think he will truly listen to me? That he'll believe me?" Adrian looked incredulous. Pandora absently picked at some wax drippings on a pewter candlestick. "Can you convince him that you were acting then, but not acting now..." she pondered aloud. "Tell me, if you are willing to speak with him, then what do you feel you have to gain by doing so? By convincing him? If he thinks you are in any way doing this for your own gain, then it won't work." "You mean, what would it mean to me to form a truce with the illustrious Baron Redoak?" Adrian kept the sneer from his face, but his tone carried the bitterness of wormwood. "Yes." Silence. "Four hundred years, Niamh," he said. "Four hundred years of being called That Actor, of having him revile me for something that was no fault of mine. You ask me what I have to gain? I don't hope to make him a friend, but I would like to stop having him as an enemy. I hope to gain some sort of... oh, I don't know... understanding? Peace? I want to tell him to his face that I didn't _want_ to pick up that whip. I want him to know that I wanted to rescue him. But he'll never listen to me. Not him, up in his ivory tower." "You may be surprised," the healer replied. "I think he might be ready to listen. You forget that I've heard both sides of the same story, and I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, as it usually does. You both need to meet in that middle. But what are you really hoping for? Because if you want to do this just so that you can call him names..." Adrian held up a hand. "Oh, God, don't remind me of that stupid award ceremony. I got what I deserved for that. I don't know what I'm hoping for." He gave her a smile robbed of his usual roguishness. "Healing, perhaps?" He toyed with his now-empty glass. "I just know I'm willing to try." He stared at the wall, and Pandora knew that he was not looking at paint and plaster. "I have so few friends," he said. "I don't hope to make the Baron one, but at least I can cross one enemy off my list. And Jake likes him..." he shrugged, a bit embarrassed to be showing so much of the real Adrian to this quiet woman. "Hey, I've dropped my trousers for you," he said lightly. "Guess I should drop a couple of masks, too. Like I said, I want to try." "I'll speak with him then...or better yet, someone who has more influence with him than anyone," Pandora announced, and immediately crossed to the corner of the room and picked up the phone. ****** Joshua set down the phone and studied his husband thoughtfully. Approach this the wrong way, and Gideon would get all stubborn and prideful, and nothing at all would be accomplished. The very name of Adrian Talbot would be like the proverbial red flag. Hmmm... "Gideon," said the recently-turned vampire to the far older one. "What would you say was the far better choice between truth or memory?" The Baron's expression was wary when he replied, "Why?" "Memories can be false," Josh said. "Wouldn't you rather know the truth than keep a false memory?" Gideon sighed and put down the financial section of the newspaper. "This is about That Actor, isn't it?" "Would you be willing to go over to Meadowsweet Ridge and just talk to the man?" Josh asked, rubbing Gideon's shoulders affectionately. "Please?" "Absolutely not." "Please?" "Why is this so important to you?" Gideon asked, surprised at this wheedling on behalf of a man Joshua barely knew. "Because it's eating you up. You can't keep on hating him for centuries, Gideon. Whatever happened between you... and I don't want to know if you aren't willing to tell me, it's over and done with. The past is the past. I've learned that lesson in under a year as a vampire. There's no sense in holding such an old grudge, is there?" "You don't know what he did to me!" Gideon let the newspaper slip out of his grasp. "There are reasons, Joshua! Why does nobody see that?" "All I see is how much this is hurting you." Joshua picked up the paper and put it safely on Gideon's desk. "Have you ever thought that maybe he had a reason for whatever it was he did? Adrian's a complex man. I sensed something at Christmas, when you two shook hands, something that suggested that the two of you should move in a new direction. Maybe it's time to heal." Gideon buried his head in his hands. "There is no healing for some pasts," he whispered. "What can it hurt to try?" The Baron's head lifted. "Did Pandora say that Talbot was willing?" "Yes." "Then I can be no less." Josh hugged him. "Atta boy." He grinned and went off in search of his car keys. *** At Meadowsweet Ridge, Pandora made her guests as comfortable as possible in an awkward situation. She signalled to Jake and Josh that they should make themselves scarce after a few moments of socializing, and the two men followed her out. Not without some anxious looks back! "Maybe we should have just given them a couple of pairs of boxing gloves," Jake said as the door to the den closed behind them, leaving Gideon and Adrian alone. "Or duelling pistols," Josh suggested. "And give me more work to do?" Pandora asked, shooing them further away from the room where the two old enemies were sequestered. "Now, be good and come along with me to the kitchen. Jake, I'm sure you must be hungry..." But she, as much as the two other men, longed to be a fly on the wall in that room when Gideon and Adrian finally talked. ++++ Silence stretched, elastic-like, between the two men. It was not a comfortable silence. Adrian studied his fingernails. Gideon stared into space. Not even the sound of breathing allieviated the deadly quiet. Then, finally, a statement. "You left me there." It wasn't an accusation. It was fact, and Gideon delivered it tonelessly. "And what did you expect me to do?" Adrian demanded, eyes flashing. "Rescue you? How could I have?" "You did not even try," Gideon countered. "Had I tried," Adrian went on, "I'd have been suffering with you. Is your memory so clouded that you don't remember what that place was like? Your bloodmaster was a savage bastard with more guards than the president. I was lucky to get out of there alone, never mind trying to drag his favourite toy with me. We'd both have been torn to shreds." Gideon turned his head away, trying to force the memories of Ravensbrook back into dormancy. But they had awakened, and the echoes of old screams rang in his head. "I begged you to help me," he said. "Yes, you did," came the terse answer. "Do you remember my reply?" Silence for a moment, while a true memory played back in Gideon's mind's eye. "Yes," he admitted painfully. "And?" Adrian pressed, wanting the admission. "You said 'I dare not.'" Adrian's eyes bored into Gideon's, even from across the room. "Do you really think I didn't want to get you out of there? Christ, that place was hell! But I had no choice." "Self-preservation has always been your highest priority, hasn't it, Talbot?" "Yes." Gideon could only shake his head. "Oh, so it's time to play 'holier than thou', is it?" Adrian asked. "And what have you done but looked out for yourself over the years?" "The Brotherhood..." The actor snorted. "Bunch of do-gooder do-nothings. The chief reason you joined was for protection, wasn't it? And what is it your precious Brotherhood does? Help only those you think are worthy, and harrass anyone who doesn't fit into your narrow standards of acceptable vampire behaviour." "That is not true." Gideon struggled to hold his temper. "You know nothing about us if that is what you believe." "And what do you know of me?" Adrian countered. "'That Actor', you call me, as if actors were vermin. Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you, Baron, but the Puritan edict against players was revoked a long time ago. Actors are allowed to mingle in public these days. I'm an accredited university professor, a director, an anthropologist and I could probably still brew a mean batch of bathtub gin from the days I ran a speakeasy; so I'm more than just an actor. Maybe I haven't lead an exemplary life according to your standards. But, damn it, I've lived! I've had adventures and love affairs by the score; and I've been to places you've probably never heard of." Gideon's eyebrows raised at this, but he said nothing. Adrian had centre stage and wasn't about to surrender the spotlight. "You know what I think, Baron?" the actor went on. "I think you're jealous of me." That did provoke a disbelieving, wordless exclamation. "Sure," Adrian went on, gaining confidence. "I'm free, and you aren't. It started then, didn't it? You hate me because I was free to walk out of Ravensbrook's control and you weren't. And now I'm free to do what I want or go where I please, and you're stuck with the hidebound old Brotherhood and your precious reputation. "So your bloodmaster was a monster. So fucking what? So was mine. He didn't use whips. He didn't have to. I don't let the memories get to me. Maybe I don't have a centuries-old pedigree, my bloodlines traced back to Noah as if I was some kind of prize breeding dog, but I've got as much right to live my life the way I want as any damned aristocrat. You have no right to pass judgement on me." Gideon's first reaction, firmly suppressed, was to burst into applause. He decided instead to reply in kind. "But you have the right to pass judgement on me, is that right?" he countered. "I may not dislike you for your profession or your hedonistic lifestyle, but you are allowed to sneer at my title and my way of life? Is that the bargain? Because if it is, it's a pretty poor one. I did not ask to be born to the aristocracy any more than you asked to be born the offspring of a prostitute. In the brief time I was the Baron of Redoak, I did the best I knew how for my tenants. I never once, to my knowledge, harmed a wandering player; nor did I ever embrace the Puritan church's teachings. You mock me for my wealth, for my quiet life, for my membership in the Brotherhood. "Professor Talbot... I wonder if it is not you who are jealous." Adrian snorted. "I have something you lack, Professor. And you feel that lack, whether or not you choose to admit it." "Oh?" Adrian drawled sarcastically. "And what might this mythical lack be? Money? Blue blood?" "Security," Gideon replied. Adrian bowed his head, acknowledging the truth of this. "Security," he said. "And a damned good-looking lover." "That, too." Try as he might, Gideon couldn't keep a hint of smugness out of his reply. "But you are the one who bragged of countless love affairs." "Let's not allow this to dissolve into one-upmanship, Baron," Adrian said, heading that subject off at the pass so that he wouldn't have to discuss his bisexuality with a man who'd stuck to one gender. "We've steered very far away from that miserable dungeon in France, haven't we?" "Yes, we have. Talbot... Adrian... forgive me." 'Forgive you?" Adrian's jaw dropped. "For what?" "Being wrong, all these centuries. I... I thought you had enjoyed what you did to me." "Forgive me," Adrian replied, "for doing it in the first place." Gideon held out his hand. "Truce?" he asked. Adrian's own hand reached out, grasped the offered one. "Truce," he agreed. "Thank you, Gideon." "Thank you, Adrian." They walked towards the shut door, once more in silence, but this one was no longer tense. There was the sharp smell of relief in the room, of tensions unwound, of healing begun. As Gideon's hand reached for the doorknob, Adrian couldn't resist testing this new truce. "So, Gideon," he said as the door to the rest of Meadowsweet Ridge opened and three expectant faces popped into the kitchen doorway. "Would you and Josh like tickets to my next production? I'm doing _Dracula_."