The Narrow Walk

By JF Jackson

Part Five

She stayed under the cabin for over an hour after she heard him roar off on his motorcycle, scared that he might come back. When she finally did crawl out from under the house, her clothes were filthy and her face was streaked with muddy track, from dirt and crying.

She walked inside the cabin, the slow, shoulder-hunched walk of the dejected. Why does he get to me? Why do I let him get to me? Why doesn't he just take me for the image I try so hard to project? I'm trash. I'm nothing but a bit of eye candy, something to waste a night with and go on. Why, for the sake of those above and below, does he persist in trying to be my friend?

Her kitchen area was neat, the dishes washed and sitting in the dish drainer to dry. He had even wiped down the stove and cleaned the coffeepot. If she were to be honest with herself, which she might as well be, he left the area as clean as she would have, if not cleaner. This Remy was a strange study in contrasts.

Getting a package of cigarettes from the pocket of a leather jacket, she sat down on the sofa, curling her legs under her. She had things she should be doing today, but she did not want to do any of them. She wanted to just sit and let her mind wander.

Images flashed in and out, but she did not fight them. A young man with sandy colored hair and blue eyes, grinning at her, trying to hide the ice ball he had behind his back, readying himself to throw it at her. A man in a wheelchair, on who's lap, a younger version of herself, rested her head, crying pitifully. An even younger girl with usual eyes, one green, one blue, looking at her, with her arms stretched out wide, waiting to be held. Another man, who's eyes she couldn't see, but she didn't have to, to know the pain he was feeling.

That is all my life is, that is all it ever was, she thought. Images of people that came and went. Nobody stays, nothing stays. To quote Billy Joel, "Life is a series of hello's and good-byes."

The day passed slowly and night finally came, darkening the skies. Before the stars came out, Stealth rose from the dirt, his deathsleep of daylight hours behind him. Brushing the earth off his pants and shirt, he drew in a deep breath, smelling the earth and the pine trees. He did not have to breathe to survive, but he could still smell. These woods were his home and he liked the way they smelled, the way they made him feel close to alive. Besides, it was good to keep himself in the habit of breathing; it fooled the mortals.

When he was finished smelling the air and brushing off his clothes, he raised his hands to the night skies, offering thanks to the mother spirit, for the earth he could rest in during the day to protect him from the harsh light. There were some who would say that the mother spirit didn't care for him anymore, that by being undead, he was no longer under her care, but he didn't believe that. In his breathing days, when his people had taken him in, he was taught to believe that everything had a purpose. Though he was not truly alive, he knew he too, must have a purpose and the mother spirit, she who made the earth and the sky watched over him.

His prayers finished, he walked to the cabin. While he did not sleep there, he still considered it a home base of sorts, a place to keep his clothing and to shower, when he needed to.

He stopped just inside the doorway, and frowned. The cabin was thick with cigarette smoke, and Rhiannon was sitting on the couch, not moving, an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table, a lit cigarette, burned almost down to the filter between her fingers. She stared off into space, obviously unaware that he had even come into the cabin.

He sighed and came over, sitting down across from her. She looked over at him, put the cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, and scowled. "Are you going to give me crap?"

He shook his head. No, I am more worried than I am angry. What is bothering you?

She lapsed into her mental voice, although she knew it sounded as fuzzy to him as his did to her. She just did not want to speak aloud. She had done enough of that earlier, with Remy. He didn't just consider last night a one-night stand; he wants to be my friend.

Mmmm. Just your luck. He grinned.

You are soooo cute; she shot back, reaching for the cigarette pack. Finding it empty, she crumpled it up and threw it over her shoulder to the fireplace. She didn't even turn to look; knowing it would go inside. I botched everything up and I don't know how to fix it. Move?

He shook his head. No, you cannot run every time something goes wrong, little one.

Stop with the "little one." She rose to her feet and walked into the kitchen, taking a bottle of orange juice out. I am not a child.

He snorted. You have not even lived half of one mortal lifetime. I am over two hundred years old. To me, you are a child. But, as usual, we digress. So, this Remy wants more than just one night of passion. This is not uncommon. You know the solutions. Erase his mind completely of what happened. Have one more night with him, then make him forget you completely. I can help you break into that fortress he and the other X-Men call home. If you are not strong enough to make him forget, I can help.

She walked back into the living room, sitting down with the juice. It is not that simple. They know of my existence. He has played the tape I gave him and some of them have heard it. They know he has met me. For him to suddenly forget who I am would arouse suspicion. I expect they will tell him soon enough what I am. I am almost surprised they haven't yet. She ran her fingers over the neck of the bottle, wiping at the beads of condensation.

Let me ask you a question, Rhiannon. Do you really want him to forget you? Is there any part of you that really would like to be friends with him?

She frowned, looking away from him.

Be honest, he warned her.

All right! She glared at him. I admit, I wouldn't mind a friend. I mean, I know you are my friend but only at night. And you are different than a friend. You are my teacher, my mentor. I-I would not mind having friends or at least a friend, that knew what I was, but didn't turn away, did not reject me. She rose from the couch and began pacing around the room, speaking aloud. "I get so tired of this, Stealth. Every full blood I meet, except for you, hates me and wants me dead. I can't befriend mortals, I can't befriend the undead. What am I suppose to do?" She paused and looked at him, opening her arms with a gesture of helplessness.

Maybe you should take him up on his offer and be friends with him. Stealth suggested.

"Are you kidding?"

No, I am not. You need a friend, especially a friend who can spend time with you in the daylight as well as the night. Besides, I have a feeling this is meant to be. You like him. When I was watching the both of you last night, through the window, there was a connection. Even when the both of you were getting angry with the other, the anger turned to passion.

"I can't be friends with him. There is too much at stake here. I would have to tell him what I am, or the X-Men will! Nobody is suppose to know of vampires, it's bad enough the X-Men do!"

These are not ordinary mortals, Darkstar. If anyone is able to accept that there are things beyond that which our eyes see, our ears hear, and our fingers touch, it is them.

"Are you telling me I should just come clean? Go to him and say, 'Hey, LeBeau, I'm a half vampire. Some weirdo vampire attacked me one night, and botched the job? Last night we had sex and you know that first orgasm you had? It was cause I was drinking your blood!" She snorted.

You could find a different way of putting it, Stealth pointed out, a slight grin playing over his lips. There were times when he wanted to be mad at her, but he often found he could not be. Although he had not created her, he still considered her his child. What I am trying to say is this, Darkstar; since you are sure that he is going to find out what your are, wouldn't it be better for him to hear it from your lips, rather than someone else's?

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. "You know what, Stealth?"

He tipped his head to one side, rather than asking, and waited.

"When you're right, you're right."

After leaving Rhiannon's, Remy took advantage of the weather and drove around the rest of the day. It was not until nightfall that he felt ready to return to the X-Men.

When he walked inside the door, Scott was there. "Where have you been?"

He scowled. "Out."

"Where?"

He shook his head in disbelief. Although Scott was an uptight ass at times, this was a new low. He felt like a school boy caught breaking curfew. His nostrils flared. "No place," he snapped.

"Who were you with?" Scott's nostrils flared in return. They looked almost like two bulls squaring off.

"No one." If Scott was going to treat him like a boy, damn it, he would act like one.

"Don't you take that tone, Gambit." Scott raised his finger, shaking it. "We didn't know where you were, or when you'd be back."

"I'm an adult, last time I checked." Remy crossed his arms over his chest "I can come and go as I please. Who you t'ink you are, my father?"

"You have a responsibility," Scott reminded him. "And you knew I had a series of training exercises scheduled today for the whole team. You let me down."

"You'll live. I had t'ings to do."

"You were with that woman, weren't you? That singer you met at the bar."

Remy wanted to punch him in the face. Who was he to question who he spent his nights with? "Mebe I was, mebe I wasn't. None of your business anyway."

"It is my business," Scott disagreed. "That girl is trouble."

Remy closed his eyes, his fists clenched and mentally counted to ten. "Why?" his voice was dangerously low. "What is so bad 'bout her? Why is she such a big deal?" He opened his eyes, only to narrow slits.

"What has she told you?"

"Not'ing!" he shouted. "Damn it, no one tell me not'ing! Every time I try to talk to her, every time I try t'find out somet'in 'bout her, she shut up, or run away. Now you giving me de same game she does. What de hell is with this woman, and what connection she have with de X-Men? She know who we are, dat's for sure. An' she especially know who you are.

"She's an abomination that ought to be destroyed!"

The red and black slits that were his eyes widened into round saucers. "What de hell dat suppose to mean?" he asked.

"It means that Summers ain't thinking to clearly," Logan said, walking out of the living room and into the hallway where they stood.

"I'm thinking very clearly!" Scott snapped. "Stay out of this, Logan. It's none of your business."

"Oh, I think you're wrong, Summer," Logan said calmly. "It is my business. You're forgetting, I knew her, too."

"That was before-"

Before Scott could finish, Logan raised his hand, his claws popping. "Shut up, Scott. Shut up right now."

Scott's mouth closed.

"That's better," Logan nodded.

"Would someone tell me what is goin' on here?" Remy asked, feeling more confused by the second. Had the whole world gone crazy on him?

"C'mon, Gumbo. You and I need t'talk." Logan took his arm and started out the door. He stopped and looked at Scott. "When it comes to her, you can't think straight. Never could understand what it was with you and her. I'll talk to him."

Before Scott could answer, Logan had Remy out on the front stairs and closed the door behind them.

"How many half truths you gonna tell me?" Remy asked, as they walked down the stairs together. He was starting to really regret he had gone into that particular bar two nights ago.

"None," Logan said, quietly. "I may not tell you everything, but I won't lie to you either. Some things, she has the right to tell you first."

"I've given her every chance to talk, but she won'!" Remy complained, lighting up a cigarette and sitting on the stairs.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Logan sat down next to him. "You left that tape in the kitchen today. I hope you don't mind, I played it."

Remy shrugged. "I don' care. She sing in a bar, I have no exclusive on who listens to her." He stared up at the sky, looking at the stars for a moment. "What did you t'ink?"

"I think she's improved a lot," Logan said calmly. "I mean, she always had a damned good voice, but it's gotten better."

Remy snapped his head in Logan's direction. "You know her."

"Yup." Logan nodded. "Known her for a very long time. Yeah, we've lost touch, big time. Part of that, I consider my fault. I shoulda tracked her down. I always was fond of the kid."

"Logan, tell me." Remy couldn't keep a note of desperation out of his voice. "I'm getting so confused 'bout dis. She know who we are. She know too much. Tell me why, please?

Rather than answer Remy right away, Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping through it, he pulled out a small picture and handed it to him.

Gambit took it, holding it up so he could view it with the porch light. It was one of those pictures that were taken every year at the annual picnic. The backdrop for this one was the same stairs he sat on now. The X-Men were arranged by height and age on the stairs, on the bottom stairs were Bobby and a girl who looked to be about the same age as he was. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt. She had one hand on Bobby's shoulder and a flippant expression on her face, as if she didn't know if she should smile for the camera or flip the photographer the bird. He studied the girl and gasped. "It's her!"

Logan nodded. "Two points, Gumbo. That's Star."

"Rhiannon," he corrected, still studying the picture.

"Yeah, her real name is Rhiannon, but I nicknamed her Star," Logan explained. "She had these dreams of being a singer. One afternoon, I found her in the danger room, running through a program she'd designed. Weren't no training exercise though; it was her singin' at Woodstock." He chuckled at the memory. "Good bit o'programing too, if I remember correctly. I think it's still on the system if you want to see it. Anyway, that's when I nicknamed her, Star."

"She call herself Darkstar on stage," Remy said, not taking his eyes off the picture.

"Figures." Logan's brows furrowed, obviously displeased at this name. "She always did like to twist things so she came out looking the worst."

"She was part of the X-Men den, right?" Gambit asked.

Logan nodded. "Yup. That she was for awhile, at least."

"How come no one speaks of her?"

"There are reasons." Logan sighed. "We're getting into that area where I don't feel comfortable tellin' you things. Like I said, there are some things she has the right to tell you."

"But she probably won'," Remy couldn't keep the frustration from his voice. "Okay, I respect dat you don' feel it's right to tell me everyt'ing, but what can you tell me? Who is she? Why did she leave? What could she do?"

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. "Well, her code name was Mesmerize."

Remy's eyes narrowed. "Dat's an interesting name."

"Yup. She could look into a person's eyes an' influence them."

"Make them fall instantly in love wit' her, if she wanted?" Remy asked, remembering how she stared at him, when she sang her final song at the bar.

"I suppose, if that's what she wanted," Logan responded. "But I don't think she'd do that."

Remy's nostril's flared as he reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. "Oh, dat splain' a lot." Now I know why I was so attracted to her.

"I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong." Logan looked at him. "I don't know if she still has the ability or not. And even if she does, I doubt she used it on you. An' even if she did, it wouldn't be affecting you any more. Whatever influence she has only lasts a few hours, six at the most. But, I can almost guarantee even if she tried to use it, it wouldn't o' worked."

"How can you guarantee dat?"

"Because there is something strange about her ability. It don't work with the color red at all. No one can explain why, it just don't work. The professor used to put red sunglasses on people and make her try to get around it, an' it never happened. It blocks something." He looked at Gambit. "Your pupils are red. That would mess it up. So, if you felt at all "mesmerized" by Star, it was your own mind. Face it, Gumbo, she's got a terrific body, beautiful hair, an' a way o' movin' that would make a dead man stand up an' take notice. An' when she opens her mouth to sing, it's like hearin' the celestial angels the bible talks about. Those things are enough to 'mesmerize' anyone, ability or not."

Logan had a point; Remy had to admit, at least to himself. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Red won' work, huh?"

"Nope."

He exhaled slowly, sending a stream of smoke into the night air, using it as an excuse not to talk, but to instead think. If the color red messes with her power, then she was never able to use it on "Scott!"

"Yup," Logan chuckled, guessing correctly at what Remy was thinking. "She never could influence Scott. Too bad too, it might have helped her. They never got along."

"Why not?"

"Well, we've got to go back a bit," Logan warned him.

"I got de time."

He nodded. "Okay. When Star-Rhiannon, came here, she and Scott were both messed up. This was at the time when Phoenix died an' everyone thought it was Jeanie. Scott took it real hard. Tried to emerge himself in his work, the whole bit. But, no matter how hard he tried to keep busy, it was obvious the boy was on thin ice, emotionally.

Rhiannon came here under some pretty bizarre circumstances. It was either here or a juvenile detention center. In fact, she was already in jail when we went and got her."

Gambit's eyes widened. "What did she do?"

"Attacked a judge."

"Dat don' seem like her style." He frowned.

"She was fourteen years old and her whole world had just been shattered," Logan explained. "The judge she attacked had just taken her daughter away from her."

"Her daughter? She had a child when she was fourteen?"

"She had a child when she was twelve."

The cigarette between Remy's fingers slipped and fell to the ground, unnoticed. "She had a baby when she was twelve?"

Logan nodded, crushing out Remy's dropped cigarette with the heal of his boot. "I don' know the whole story, she's tight lipped about it. She was livin' in one o' those foster farms, where they send kids without parents that they can't find foster families for. There were a whole bunch o'kids livin' there, an' one o' them was the father. She never did say who it was, or the circumstances surrounding the conception. Anyway, she didn't tell anyone she was pregnant, until it was obvious. I guess she was afraid they'd make her have an abortion. When her social worker found out she was pregnant, she tried to make Rhiannon sign her baby over for adoption. Rhiannon didn't want to do that, but she was afraid they'd make her, so she somehow managed to get her daughter out of the nursery at the hospital and ran off with her."

Remy's brows furrowed. "How did she survive?"

"Here is where it gets a bit murky," Logan admitted. "Most o' the stuff I've told you was stuff Chuck was able to learn from her social worker, before he took legal custody of her. Once she ran away from the hospital wit' her daughter, she managed to 'loose' herself for a couple years, so the only person who can tell you 'bout those times is her, an' like I said, she's tight lipped about it. From what I've been able to piece together, she ran to the woods."

"Why does dat not surprise me?" Remy remarked, thinking of her cabin.

"Well, it turns out her mother was one o' them back to nature people," Logan explained. "She died when Rhiannon was eight or so, but she'd taught her quite a bit about wilderness survival. How to fish, what plants were edible, how to build small traps, that sort o' thing. So, she took her daughter an' found a cabin in the woods. Probably someone's summer cabin that had been forgotten. Rhiannon an' her baby girl, who she named Kierra, moved in."

"Kierra," Remy repeated. "Pretty name."

Logan nodded. "Pretty kid, too. Rhiannon had pictures of her. She looks like the spit o' her mother, except for the eyes. They're different; one's blue, the other is green."

Remy looked at him, one brow raised. "One blue eye, one green? Unusual, but not impossible."

"Never said it was. Gonna let me finish the story?" When Gambit nodded, Logan continued.

"So, she an' Kierra managed to survive for a couple years. Rhiannon won't say, but I think she had a bit o' help in that department too, someone who knew about em' and helped em' out. I think if she'd had her way, she would've continued stayin' in the woods, out of sight forever, but Kierra was a baby babies get sick, need shots, that sort o' stuff. So, she used to go int'town an use her ability to get people t'give her money. That's how she got caught."

"Someone didn' like being mesmerized, non?"

Logan shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Maybe someone saw her do it or something. I know she was smart enough never to 'influence' people into giving her more than they could spare. A five spot here, a ten spot there, that sort of thing."

Remy nodded, taking in this information.

"The really sad part was, that if Rhiannon had insisted on keeping her baby an' gone on welfare, an' lived in some half way house wit' the child, no one would have done much o' anything to her," Logan said. "But, because she chose to try to support herself an' her child, when the Child Welfare agents finally go involved wit' it, I guess they couldn't handle the idea. There was a hearing and the judge took Kierra away from her."

"Was her daughter hurt or suffering in any way?"

"No. All records indicate that Kierra was a bright, healthy, normal two-year-old. No sign of abuse, starvation, improper medical care, any o' that. Rhiannon isn't dumb, and she loved that kid with all her being. I know her well enough, that if she'd ever thought she couldn't take care o' Kierra, she would have signed the kid to the state in a minute, of her own free will."

Remy's brows furrowed. What a life to lead, before you even an' adult. I know what it's like to be alone unwanted. He understood now, perfectly, why she'd tried to attack the judge when he took away her child. She had no one, since her mother had died. When Kierra was born, she must have thought, this child is mine. I love her, she loves me, and no one can take us away from each other. It wasn't an easy road to take, raising a child, while still a child yourself, but she'd done it, and it sounds like she was doing the very best she could, but it just wasn't good enough. No wonder she so hard on herself.

"Anyway," Logan continued, "Charles found out 'bout her and 'rescued' her from the Kid Jail. Gave her a choice, school with him, or stay in jail. She chose door number one."

"Couldn t Charles 'ave gotten her baby back?"

"I don't think so, the state had already found a home for her and a couple who wanted to adopt her. Rhiannon an' Charles talked about it, I know, but I never knew what the discussions were about. It was between them."

"So what 'appened when she came here?" Remy asked.

"I'm gettin' to it. Like I said, it's a long tale." Logan leaned back on the stair, getting comfortable. "When she came here, she didn't want t'let anyone close to her. For the first three weeks, she didn't talk to anyone, beyond, 'pass the butter.' Charles told all o'us to give her some space an' time, an we all respected that except for one person."

"Who?"

"Bobby." Logan grinned. "Even at fourteen, Rhiannon was a looker. Besides that, she was the closest to his age. The rest o'us were pretty much adults. There was no way Bobby was gonna let another teenager into the house without at least tryin' t'make friends with her, so he kept tryin' t'talk t' her, askin' her questions, following her around. Charles didn't try to stop it either. I think he realized that if anyone was gonna get through at first, it was him. He kept cracking jokes around the kid, tryin' his best to be funny, charming, Bobby. An' at first I didn't think it would work. She wouldn't let him get to her at all. Then, something happened "

"What?" Remy asked, drawn into the story.

"We were all eatin' dinner one night, an' Scott was being kinda hard on Bobby. Bobby was in a real joking mood, making faces, being juvenile, cuttin' up in general. I think he was tryin' to impress Rhiannon. You know how stupid teenagers can be. Well, Scott didn't like it, so he was tellin' Bobby to cut it out, get some manners, grow up, that sort of thing. I looked over at Rhiannon, and though she was tryin' to pretend she didn't care, she was watching the two o'them carefully. Chuck was watchin' her too, noticing, which is why, I think, he didn't try to stop Bobby. Anyhow, so Bobby finally had enough of Scott's criticism, an flicked a spoonful o'peas at him. Hit his visor."

Remy grinned, picturing it in his head, the look of shock that must have crossed Scott's face as he realized one of his precious teammates, Bobby in particular, had just thrown food at him.

Logan also grinned. "Yeah, it was funny, but no one really laughed. We all just kinda waited t'see if Scott would explode."

"Did he?"

"Well, his face turned all red an' such I really thought he was gonna start rantin' but instead, he got up from the table, nostrils flarin' an' said, 'excuse me.' Bobby weren't gonna let any moment pass, so he responded with, 'Why? What'dya do, fart?'"

Despite himself, Remy chuckled, picturing the look on Scott's face when Bobby came out with that little "gem." "What did Scott do?"

"Turned even redder, if I remember correctly. But no one was really watchin' Scott anymore, all eyes turned t'Rhiannon."

"Why?"

"Cause for the first time, we heard her laugh." Logan's eyes softened clearly more fond of this memory than the tone of his voice was letting on. "Oh, it started as a snort, that she tried t'hide, but she couldn't. Within a minute, she was laughin' till the tears were streaming down her face. She just couldn't stop. Okay, maybe Bobby ain't no George Carlin when it comes to humor, but it just struck Rhiannon in some way. I think she laughed for ten minutes straight. By the time she was finished, she was gaspin' for air."

Remy nodded. "An' let me guess, dat opened her up."

"Like a damned bursting," Logan agreed. "Rhiannon suddenly went in the opposite direction. Instead of being quiet an' shy, she was as much of a practical joke as Bobby. She an' Bobby became best of friends too. Together, I think they set out t'drive everyone nuts. They were never serious. They drove Scott right up the wall."

"Dat why she isn't here no more?" Remy asked. "Or why no one even mentions her? Because she wouldn't be serious?"

"If that were the case, Bobby would've been outa here too," Logan said. "To be honest, I really don't know why she left. The professor was gone on some personal business, an' one day Scott came in an' told us that the he and Rhiannon had a talk and both decided she weren't X-Men material an' she left."

Remy frowned. "How did Bobby take it? An' why didn't he recognize her voice when he heard the tape today?" He remembered his reaction, the almost dreamy quality to his voice as he complained about a headache.

"Bobby was bullshit, to be honest. She never even said goodbye to him just left. As for why he didn't recognize her, well, now we're startin' t'get int' that area where I don' feel right talkin'."

Remy's frown deepened. "You answer a lot of questions, but every answer lead to more questions. How I get those answered?"

"You ask me."

They looked up as Rhiannon walked out of the shadows, coming towards them. Logan grinned. "Good job, Little Star. I never heard you coming."

"Darkstar," she corrected. "And this is child play for me, now."

"I guess it is." Logan stood up. "I guess I should leave the two o'you to talk."

She nodded. "I'll I'll speak with you later, Logan."

He nodded. "Sounds good."

As he opened the door to walk inside, Rhiannon looked at him. "Logan?"

He paused, turning to look at her, waiting.

"I-I missed you."

"Missed ya too, Little Star." Before she could respond, he walked into the mansion and shut the door behind him.

She shook her head, smiling, her gaze staying on the spot he'd just occupied for a moment, before turning her attention to Remy. "Hello."

He rose from the stairs and came over to her. "Hello, Rhiannon. Why you run off today?"

She sighed. "Because I'm scared."

"Of what?" He tipped his head to one side, studying her. "How long you been hiding in the shadows?"

"Long enough to know that Logan told you a lot more than I might have."

"Why did you leave de X-Men?" he asked.

She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. "We'll just say Scott and I had a talk and decided it was best."

Did it really matter? he thought to himself. Don' push her too far, "Okay, den why don't Bobby remember you?"

"Because because the professor ripped out ever trace of me in his mind, every memory he had of me," she whispered.

He stared at her. "I can't believe that," he said. "The professor wouldn't do dat."

"Oh, he would," she disagreed. "Because he did."

"Why did he do it?" he asked.

"Maybe because of this." She whirled around, dropping her arms to her sides and glaring at him.

He stared at her, his own eyes widening. Her eyes had changed color again, but this time to blood red. Her lips were curled back in her mouth; her canine teeth dropped into small, but razor sharp fangs. "Holy-"

"That's right, Remy," she whispered, coming towards him, her eyes fixed on his. "I'm a vampire. How do you like them apples, stud?"

End of part Five.