Marisa stood at the window, staring out into the dark, waiting. It made her nervous, thinking of Edward and Grigori together. They had never liked each other, though they were indebted to each other. A life for a life. She tapped her fingers on the windowpane. What were they doing out there?

She did not like to think of the answer that quickly came to mind.

They were hunting. Hunting for human prey.

She could picture it so clearly: the old vampire teaching the young one how to find and stalk his prey, how to drink the warm living blood that was necessary to ensure his immortality. The ancient and horrifying rituals of the Dark Gift. Would the gravity of this transfer of knowledge - of power - overcome the antipathy Grigori and Edward held for each other? Or would the uneasy truce between the two them continue?

She pressed her forehead against the window as a new thought pushed its way into her mind. She had promised Grigori she would accept the Dark Gift so that they could be together forever. Grigori was in no hurry to bring her across, willing to let her have as much time as she needed to bid farewell to life as she knew it, but one day Grigori would bring her across. Then it would be her turn as pupil, stalking the unwary.

She shuddered at the thought. Did she truly want to be a vampire? And yet, wanting to be with Grigori forever, what other choice did she have? For a vampire, "forever" was not a hollow promise made in the throes of infatuation. She knew he would never force her, would not try to sway her decision. But if she didn't accept the Dark Gift, she would have to watch herself grow old while he stayed forever young. Would he stay by her side while she aged? Or would he find another, still-young woman in one of his midnight prowls? Some woman who would not hesitate to accept the Gift? She couldn't imagine - didn't want to imagine - such a betrayal.

She sighed as yet another thought crossed her mind. Sooner or later they would have to leave this place, this house. If things stayed as they were between them, they would have to move before people noticed that she aged while Grigori did not. And if she accepted the Dark Gift, they would still have to move on within a few years, but at least no one would look at her and think she was his mother, or worse, his grandmother!

What was it really like to be a vampire? Never to see the sun? To live only at night? To drink warm blood from the veins of a helpless victim? Did she love Grigori enough to embrace the Dark Gift?

She thrust the thought aside. She was still young. She had plenty of time to decide before anyone began mistaking her for Grigori's mother.

She went to the door and opened it when she heard his car pull into the drive. And then he was striding toward her, tall and dark, graceful as a cat.

"How did Edward seem to you?" she asked. "Is he going to be all right?"

Grigori shook his head. "I don't know."

He followed her into the living room. Marisa had done wonders with the old house. What had once been little more than a drafty old mansion had become a home, filled with soft colors and antique oak and a warmth that came from the woman herself.

Marisa sat down on the sofa. She expected Grigori to join her, but he began to pace in front of the fireplace, and she knew something was bothering him. She never tired of looking at him, of watching him. His thick black hair fell to his shoulders; his brows were straight above ebony eyes. His skin was pale, though not sickly looking. He was tall, with the firm, trim build of an athlete.

Tall, dark, and handsome, she thought. It described her husband perfectly. Husband . How she loved the word and all that it meant. He was the most wonderful man she had ever met. The thought made her smile. He would have said he wasn't a man at all.

She had first met him at a carnival on Halloween night. She had gone to the Roskovitch Carnival because they claimed to have the body of " Count Alexi Kristov, the oldest vampire in existence," She had not believed in such things, of course, had never believed in ghosts and goblins or the like. Even now, she wasn't sure what had drawn her to the carnival that night. Surely she had never dreamed that she would see not one but two vampires that evening.

She had met Edward because of Grigori. Both men had been hunting Alexi Kristov - Grigori during the night, Edward during the day. Looking back, it all seemed like a nightmare come true.

She had gone to the carnival, curious to see the vampire. It was a sight she would never forget: the casket on a dais in the center of the floor; the "vampire" clad in a shiny black suit, his skin as white as the satin that lined the casket. His hair had been long and limp, the color a dull reddish-brown. He had looked dead. Or rather, not alive. A wax figure of a man laid out in the casket to fool the gullible. So certain had she been that it was a hoax, that when she found herself alone with the figure, she had climbed the dais and touched its hand. It hadn't been made of wax, but flesh. The skin had been cool. Smooth and dry, it had reminded her of old parchment. She had gasped when the skin grew warm beneath her hand, shrieked when the fingers moved. She had stumbled away from the casket, fallen down the stairs, and scraped her leg.

It had been the scent of her blood that had roused Kristov from his long sleep. He had gone on a rampage, killing over a dozen people before Edward and Grigori joined forces and destroyed him. In the hunt for Kristov, they had discovered that Grigori's first wife, Antoinette, whom he'd thought dead for two hundred years, had not been dead at all. Transformed by Kristov, she had existed for two centuries as a revenant, a creature with no mind or will of her own. In the end, it had been Edward who had freed her soul and laid her body to rest. Even now, it was all so hard to accept. So many things she would never have believed had played out before her eyes.

She shook off the grim thoughts of the past as she watched Grigori pace the floor. "Something's troubling you," she remarked. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He turned to face her. "He's very powerful. More powerful than I would have expected."

"Edward is? Really?"

Grigori grunted softly. "He has Kristov's blood in his veins. And mine. And Khira's," he added, thinking of the beautiful vampyre who had brought him across over two hundred years ago.

"How can he be so powerful so soon?"

"He has good blood," Grigori said with a wry grin. "When a very old vampyre brings a mortal across, he bequeaths a part of his strength." And Kristov had been a very old vampyre - indeed, the oldest vampyre Grigori had ever met. Kristov's blood, combined with Khira's and his own, made for a very powerful combination.

"Is that a problem?" Marisa asked. "His being powerful?"

"It could be. He is powerful, but he is a young vampyre who does not yet fully understand what has happened to him, what powers he possesses. He lacks wisdom and experience. It could be a dangerous combination."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The Dark Gift affects people differently. Some get drunk with the power. Some go insane. Some look for ways to help mankind. And some turn into monsters, like Kristov."

"A monster? Edward?" She smiled. In spite of what Edward had done for a living, she couldn't imagine him as a monster. There had been an old-world courtliness about him, a gentleness. An innate goodness.

"It cannot be easy for him to accept that he has become what he once destroyed."

"No, I guess not. I wonder what he'll do now. For a living, I mean." She looked at Grigori and laughed. A living. That was funny. "You know what I mean."

"He is an intelligent man. I am sure he can find a suitable career." A faint smile tugged at Grigori's lips. "He will have plenty of time to find one." He sat down beside her on the sofa and drew her into his arms. "Enough talk about Ramsey."

Marisa snuggled against him, loving the feel of his arms around her. She felt safe in his embrace, loved, cherished. All her doubts and fears faded away. In time, she would accept the Dark Gift from him, and they would truly be one. Soon, but not yet.

"Cara..."

She gazed up at him, felt her skin tingle as his preternatural power moved over her skin like a dark warm wind. They had been married only a short time, and the fire that had ever smoldered between them quickly sparked to life. It was exhilarating to be in his arms. He was a creature such as she had never known before - a man who had lived for centuries, who had incredible strength, who possessed powers she did not fully understand. He could mesmerize her with a look, destroy her with a touch, charm her with a smile. He had the strength of ten men, yet he was ever gentle with her.

Her eyelids fluttered down as he dropped kisses as light as rain upon her brow, her cheeks, her eyelids. His tongue was like a flame against her throat, a silent entreaty. She moaned softly, tilting her head to one side, inviting him to take what he needed.

"Cara..."

There was no pain, just an oddly sensual feeling of euphoria as his fangs grazed her throat. And she surrendered to him completely, lost in the wonder and the magic that was Grigori.