It was already dark out when Rachel woke up. She was used to that however, though usually only in late fall and winter when night came early. One of the things she had always hated about working nights was in the winter, coming home at seven in the morning and having to sleep away the few daylight hours available. Oddly enough, this time, sleeping so long didn't seem to bother her. She woke up refreshed and eager to start her day--or evening, as was the case.

With little choice when it came to wardrobe, Rachel re-donned the tight jeans and T-shirt Marguerite had retrieved for her, then raided Etienne's wardrobe for a long-sleeved dress shirt. Drawing it on over her, she tied the loose ends of the open shirt at her waist, then spent a moment in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and hair. She considered slapping on some of the face powder and lipstick Marguerite had also been thoughtful enough to bring, but in truth she didn't need it. Her skin glowed with good health and her lips were redder than usual. It appeared there were other benefits to being a vampire--she would save a fortune on cosmetics.

Grinning, Rachel left the bedroom and jogged downstairs. Wandering to the kitchen, she didn't find Etienne there so she continued on down to the basement. The office was dim, with just the glow of screen savers on the monitors. She could see that the room was empty, though, except for the closed coffin. Etienne obviously hadn't woken up yet.

Rachel's gaze slid to the desk and the phone there. It was the only one she'd seen in the house, and she wanted to make a quick call to her family, just to let them know she was all right. She didn't like the idea of them worrying about her.

She took a step toward the phone, then caught herself. Making the phone call would wake Etienne, and if it did... Well, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. He should awake soon, anyway. She could ask him then to use the phone. She backed silently out of the room and returned upstairs.

Debating what to do next, Rachel decided to explore. She wandered aimlessly from room to room on the ground floor, appreciating the eclectic modern style but not stopping until she came to the library.

She'd always been a bookworm. Pausing to survey the shelves and the books available, one caught her interest. She settled in one of the overstuffed chairs, tucked her feet up under her, and began to read. That was how Etienne found her.

"I thought you were still sleeping," Rachel said as she closed her book and stood to replace it on its shelf.

"No. I went to get you some more clothes. I thought you might like a change."

"Oh. That was kind of you." She looked at the discomfort on his face, then the bag he carried, then back. "How exactly is it that you and your mother are getting into my apartment? Can vampires manipulate locks with their minds or something?"

Etienne grinned. "No. We've been using your keys. They were in your purse."

"Ah," Rachel murmured. "My purse is here. That's good to know." She would need it when she decided she was ready to leave.

"I put it up in your room before I went out this afternoon."

"You mean your room," Rachel corrected Etienne, then tilted her head inquiringly. "Which reminds me, am I going to have to sleep in a coffin after the change is finished?"

"No." He shook his head. "We don't really need them anymore. Homes in the old days were drafty, and it was hard to keep out light. Then too, there were servants and such to be concerned with. Nowadays, a good set of blackout blinds, a lock, and an alarm system are enough to do the trick."

"Oh, good." Rachel moved to his side and took the bag he'd packed for her. "I guess I'll go change my top at least. That way you can have yours back."

"Fine." He waited until she was in the hall before he asked, "Rachel?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Come back when you're ready. We need to talk."

Rachel was silent for a moment, then she nodded and walked upstairs. The serious expression on his face made her nervous. What did he want to discuss? Rachel suspected it was something she wasn't going to like. Perhaps there were more drawbacks to this whole business that hadn't yet been mentioned.

Deciding it wasn't something she was likely to guess at--and that even if she did, she wouldn't know if she was right until they talked--Rachel hurried to her room and set the bag on the bed. Sorting through what he'd brought back, she found an array of her rather limited wardrobe. Dress slacks and blouses made up the majority of it, ail work clothes. With a practically nonexistent social life, she hadn't needed much else besides a robe and fluffy slippers.

Rachel chose one of the tops and changed into it, but she didn't bother to change out of the jeans. They had stretched with wear and, while still tight, were becoming comfortable again. Rachel supposed they hadn't been all that tight to begin with, and had simply seemed so because she had become used to loose dress pants over the years. After a quick check of herself in the bathroom mirror, she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and headed downstairs.

Rachel tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever unpleasantness Etienne might wish to talk about, but since she wasn't sure what it was, she couldn't really do much.

Etienne paced the library, his mind racing, trying to line up his arguments. He figured that once he convinced Rachel to stay, he would have the time necessary to work on the Pudge matter. Despite her protest, he didn't think it should be too difficult to convince her to claim the man had kidnapped her--it was in her own best interest too.

Etienne decided it would be best to start by sympathizing with her. Rachel would be concerned about her job and the possibility of losing it. She would be worried about her family, her friends, and their fears and worry over her. She might even have a boyfriend out there, anxious about her well-being.

The thought caught Etienne by surprise. Until that moment, he hadn't even considered that there might be a rival for her affections. It didn't make him very happy to consider it now, but it was definitely something he needed to know.

After explaining that he understood her concerns,

Etienne would then point out that, while these were all valid concerns, the main concern was Rachel's health and well-being--as well as that of his people. He would point out that her immediate return to work and home might threaten her welfare. First, there was Pudge. The man would know she was one of them now if she returned healthy, and that would make her a possible target. Then there was her inexperience and lack of control. Should her teeth pop out, or her hunger overcome her while at work, her change would be revealed, threatening both her and his family. Worse, unable to control minds yet, Rachel wouldn't even have a chance to repair the damage she would cause. And then there was the blood issue. Not being able to feed herself was a major problem.

"Here I am."

Etienne turned from the window and looked at Rachel. She had kept on the jeans, but had changed her top to a green blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. She looked gorgeous. Breathtaking. Every argument Etienne had lined up in his head now marched gaily out of it, leaving him rather lost.

"You wanted to talk?" Rachel prompted, moving farther into the room as he merely stood staring at her.

"Yes. Talk," Etienne agreed, but that was as much as he could manage. He felt like someone had pole-axed him.

Why? It wasn't like it was the first time he'd seen the woman. He'd been aware of her beauty from the first. Perhaps the attraction was from the uncertainty on her face and the way her eyes held mild anxiety. Or the way she caught her lower lip with her teeth to worry it. Then again, it might be the fact that, instead of the covered T-shirt, she was now wearing a blouse with the top two or three buttons undone. That exposed cleavage he had licked in his dreams--or their shared dream.

"Didn't you want to talk?"

Etienne gave himself a mental shake. "Yes. Yes, I... Look, I know you're probably upset not to be able to contact your family and friends and boyfr--Do you have a boyfriend?" he interrupted himself.

"Not at the moment," Rachel said.

"Oh, good." He grinned.

Her eyebrows rose. "Why is that good?"

"Why?" Etienne was stumped for a moment, then settled for, "Well, it's one less worry, right?"

She nodded slowly, looking perplexed.

"Well, anyway." He cleared his throat. "I know you're upset about this, but--"

"But I have to learn to feed before I can leave here," she interrupted.

"You do?" he asked with surprise. Then he corrected, "I mean, you realize that?"

"Of course. It wouldn't do for my teeth to pop out at work, or for me to take a bite out of a family member, coworker, or our priest."

"No. No, that wouldn't be good," he agreed, grinning with relief. She was being very sensible.

"So we should probably get down to the business of teaching me to feed."

"Yes." He nodded but just stood there, staring at her until she arched her eyebrows.

"Where should we do it? The kitchen?" she asked.

"Yes, of course." Etienne forced himself to move forward, but his mind was racing. She seemed determined to conquer this problem, which was good, but he'd rather she didn't resolve it too quickly. He wanted to keep her in his home for a while.

There were ways to delay her managing to ingest blood, but it meant he'd have to put in a call to Bastien. "Why don't you sit down and relax a while?" he suggested, pausing at the door. "We have to wait on an order of blood to be delivered anyway."

"I thought you had lots," she said with surprise.

"No," Etienne lied. "We used the last of my supply last night. I had to change your bag several times."

"Oh." Rachel sighed. "Okay. I'll read a while."

Smiling, Etienne left her to it and hurried out of the room.

"Oh, God!" Rachel spat the blood back into the mug and pushed it away with disgust. "How do you drink this stuff? It's disgusting! Gross! It smells like skunk! Are you sure it hasn't gone bad?"

Etienne tried not to look guilty. The blood hadn't gone bad. It was bad blood. It was basically reject blood--a combination of the thick clotty blood of cigarette smokers, the skunky corpuscles of pot smokers, and a trace of the blood of patients on Valium. It was nourishing enough and wouldn't really hurt her, but it was vile to consume and had the unpleasant side effects of wooziness and nausea.

Not knowing what he was giving her, Rachel was of course putting her physical response down to a psychological aversion to the idea of drinking blood. Etienne didn't correct her misconception. He was also insisting she be able to consume it from a glass rather than a bag, telling her she had to be prepared for all occasions before she would be ready to leave and rejoin the world. During the last two days, since the reject blood had been delivered, Rachel had tried three times a day to consume the bad mix, only to spit it back up. After each attempt, they either played his latest game or talked, or simply sat reading together in the library.

Other than the unpleasant attempts with the blood, it had been a nice couple of days. Unfortunately, to keep her from being suspicious, Etienne had been forced to drink the bad blood too. He wasn't sure how he had managed without gagging.

"Well, I suppose that's enough for today," he said empathetically. "You gave it a good go. Maybe tomorrow--"

"Tomorrow is going to be just like today," Rachel predicted gloomily. "I'll never get used to this stuff."

Etienne was searching his mind for some way to cheer and encourage her--and maybe even distract her so that he could avoid finishing the mug he had poured for himself--when the doorbell rang.

He wasn't surprised to find his mother on the doorstep. He was surprised when the first words out of her mouth weren't a greeting.

"Where is Rachel?" she asked.

"Right here."

Etienne glanced over his shoulder to see Rachel approaching. "Is something wrong?" she asked, looking anxious.

"No, no. I just thought you might be getting a little housebound and would want to get out," Marguerite said lightly. She ran her eyes over the outfit Rachel wore. "That will do, dear. Would you like to come play?"

"I don't think--" Etienne began.

Rachel stepped to his side and interrupted. "Where exactly?" she asked.

"To Lissianna's wedding shower, dear. Our side of the family only. It will give you the chance to meet other young women like yourself."

Etienne felt his hopes for the evening dissolve into a pang of loneliness.

"What's this?" Rachel asked with suspicion. Lissianna's friend Mirabeau held out a plate containing what looked very like a slice of cake.

"German seven-layer chocolate cake, dear," Marguerite answered.

"Real cake?" Rachel asked. She accepted the plate and murmured a thank-you to Mirabeau.

"Of course." Etienne's mother chuckled. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," Rachel admitted with a wry twist of her lips. "Black Forest blood cake?"

Marguerite and the women around her burst into gales of laughter. "Isn't she adorable?" Etienne's mother asked when it died down. Rachel blushed, for there was general agreement voiced.

She'd had a surprisingly good time at the shower so far. Marguerite had taken her to a special salon to purchase a gift for Lissianna, insisting on paying for it herself when Rachel realized that she hadn't brought her purse. Actually, despite Etienne's claim that he'd put it up in the room she was using, she had yet to see it. But then Rachel hadn't really looked; she hadn't needed it for anything since being turned. She had decided she would have to look around when she returned to the house, because she wanted to repay Marguerite right away. The woman had been incredibly sweet, and Rachel didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.

"What woman could live without chocolate?"

Rachel glanced to the speaker--Jeanne Louise, a woman as beautiful in her way as Lissianna and Marguerite, though she looked nothing like them. Her face was rounder, her lips a little thinner, her eyes more exotic and her hair a midnight black. She was a cousin to Lissianna and niece to Marguerite, and while Rachel liked all three women, Jeanne Louise was someone with whom Rachel was pretty sure she could be best friends. The woman worked for Argeneau Industries in their labs, and had regaled her with stories of the work she did. She'd been rather vague until realizing Rachel had no problem following what she was saying; then excited to find someone who had a working knowledge of experimental techniques and jargon, the other woman went into depth, fascinating Rachel with the tests she was performing. It seemed Argeneau Industries was as interested in medical research as anyone else.

The two women had only stopped talking once the games started, which were, much to Rachel's amazement, the usual at wedding showers. At that point, it had all seemed so pedestrian she might have forgotten the guests were vampires. Rachel sat silent for a while, simply noting the different looks and personalities in the room. The guests were all different: short women, tall women, beautiful women, homely women. As for personalities, there were a couple of sophisticated types who seemed to drawl their words and look down their noses; girl-next-door types who were sweet and kind; a few smart-girl types who looked slightly uncomfortable and spoke softly; and there was even a vampy vamp in a skintight black outfit who teased

Lissianna unendingly about the wedding night to come. It was your basic mix, just like your everyday shower.

Forgetting that Marguerite could read her mind, Rachel had been startled when the woman suddenly leaned close and murmured, "Of course it is, dear. We're normal people, just as you are."

"Except that you're all several hundred years old and likely to get a lot older," she'd pointed out.

"So will you," Marguerite reminded her with amusement. "But we're all still just people. Think of us like cars. We have extra rust protection that will make us last longer, but we're still just cars in the end--with the same worries and concerns as cars without rust proofing. Besides," she'd added, "there are a couple of girls here who are under a hundred. Jeanne Louise is only ninety-two."

Rachel had turned to look at the beautiful lab technician and shaken her head. "She's the sexiest ninety-two I've ever seen."

Jeanne Louise had overheard the comment and laughed.

"Besides, Black Forest blood cake doesn't sound very appetizing at all," she was saying now.

Drawn back to the conversation at hand, Rachel sliced off a piece. "No, it doesn't. I don't know how you manage to stomach ingesting blood. Etienne says it's an acquired taste, but I seem to be having trouble.

If it weren't for the pain and weakness when I don't get it, I'd give up."

She forked herself some cake and started to chew, then paused when Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged a glance. Rachel didn't know if it was her improving instincts or not, but she was positive the women were conversing mentally. About her. Eyebrows raised in question, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing, dear." Marguerite patted her arm and smiled. "Enjoy your cake. And here, have some tea."

Rachel accepted the tea, and she ate and drank in silence for a moment, simply listening to the talk around her. Then she asked Marguerite, "How long did it take you to adjust to ingesting blood?"

This time she didn't mistake the glance Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged. They were talking silently about her. Then Etienne's mother smiled and said, "I adjusted relatively quickly, dear. Right away, really. But it was different, then. There were no blood banks. We had to eat 'off the hoof,' as we used to say."

Rachel didn't even try to hide her horror. "Off the hoof?"

"Well..." Marguerite smiled and shrugged. "You call corpses crispy critters and such to help disassociate yourself from the unpleasantness of them being dead. We, much in the same way, had phrases and such to distance ourselves emotionally from having to feed off otherwise perfectly lovely people."

"Oh." Rachel nodded. She then ate in silence, her mind consumed with the thought that people like her family and friends were now her main food source. How icky was that? It was definitely one of the negatives to this deal. She was almost relieved that biting was not allowed any longer. Biting people might be easier and make for fewer dishes, but at least the packaging allowed her to pretend she wasn't eating people. She supposed it was like the difference between buying meat in the grocery store and slaughtering your own cow.

Lissianna opened her gifts after the food was done. She got some lovely things and seemed to really like the cream-colored negligee Rachel had chosen for her.

Beverages were then served--the beverages Rachel had expected all along. Long-stemmed wine goblets full of blood were produced. Rachel took hers but merely held it, not wanting to gag or otherwise embarrass herself in front of these people as she circulated. They were all lovely women, and all too kind to comment on the way her teeth kept popping in and out every time she caught a whiff of blood. The tinny scent didn't appeal to her, but her teeth certainly seemed to like it. Obviously she needed to work on that problem. Etienne had insisted it wasn't as important as learning to actually consume the blood, but Rachel found it rather embarrassing today and decided to talk to him when she returned home that night.

That thought caught her by surprise and made her pause. Home? She'd meant Etienne's home, which wasn't her home. She was becoming far too comfortable there. Perhaps even too comfortable with Etienne himself. The man had saved her life in return for her saving his but, as far as she could tell, that was the only relationship they had. He certainly hadn't shown her anything but friendship and kindness.

Well, that first night he had... but then it had been her who attacked him. And, much to her disappointment, he hadn't acted interested in her since. At least while she was awake. In her dreams, the man came to her every night and tortured her. Erotic kisses and caresses he gave, and all that left her wound up and unsatisfied because they always ended abruptly before Rachel could find satisfaction. It seemed she hadn't quite got the hang of wet dreams yet. She knew they didn't leave Sylvia frustrated and wanting, so she was obviously doing something wrong. Her mind shied from completion for some reason.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel. I hope we see you at the wedding. Are you going?" Jeanne Louise asked.

Rachel tore herself from her thoughts and glanced around in surprise. Everyone was gathering their things and preparing to leave. It seemed the shower was over.

"She's certainly invited," Lissianna announced as she joined them. "And I hope she'll attend."

"It depends on whether we have that other matter cleared up," Marguerite said. Looking thoughtful, she added, "Although, if we were to change her looks somewhat and call her R. J. instead of Rachel, there shouldn't be any trouble with Greg's family recognizing her from the news footage." She nodded. "Yes, we might manage it."

"Good," Lissianna said firmly. She hugged Rachel. "I'd like you to be there. I think we'll be grand friends. Like sisters."

Rachel smiled, but she didn't miss the exchange of glances between Marguerite and Lissianna. She really had to make Etienne teach her the mind-reading business. She felt sure the silent conversations going on here were much more important than the verbal ones.

"Damn!" Rachel slammed the mug of blood down and glared at it furiously. She just couldn't stomach the stuff. She'd managed to work herself up to being able to gulp down a couple swallows, but the taste was so vile and the smell so putrid that her mind and stomach rebelled.

"You're doing better," Etienne assured her. "Soon you'll be able to manage it without a problem."

Rachel glared at him, then stood and paced to the kitchen window to glare out at the starlit night sky. She hadn't been out of the house in the two days since the shower, and it felt like that was weeks ago. She was starting to go stir-crazy, locked up in this house all day and night with nothing to do but read and try to consume blood. She was sick of it. She needed fresh air. She could also use some damned exercise. Her nightly erotic dreams had continued, but still without any satisfaction. Every time, just before Rachel got to the point she wanted, the dream stopped abruptly. She was wound as tightly as a clock.

"I have to get out of here," she announced, turning to glare at Etienne, as if her edginess was his fault. "I need fresh air and exercise and... I just need to get out of here. Now."

Etienne was silent for a moment. At first he looked reluctant, but then he nodded. "I have an idea. Wait here. I'll be right back."

Scowling, Rachel watched him hurry from the room. She very much feared he would take her for a nice moonlight walk, something sedate and stately. She didn't want sedate and stately. She needed hot, sweaty exercise to work off the sexual tension that was cramping her body. If anyone had suggested it to her before she'd been turned, Rachel would never have believed that life as a vampire could be so damned boring.

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