I sat down on the blanket box. “But you were unfair today. You…if you did that to any of your knights, you’d be dishonourably discharged, Mike. That was flat-out abuse, and you know it.”

He looked at Morg; she shrugged and slinked backward, closing my bedroom door behind her.

“Okay. Maybe you’re right. But—” He huffed and sat down beside me. “Can you blame me, really?”

I folded my arms and turned my body to face away from him. “I thought you had more honour than that.”

In the reflection of my dresser mirror, I saw him rock back, sitting a little taller, my statement clearly hitting him in the heart. “Look, I didn't come up here to argue this Jason thing, I—”

“Where is he?” I asked. “Did you leave him unconscious in the training room, or did you at least have him moved?”

“He’s in the Medic room.”

My heart shattered. “Medic room! What did you do to him?”

“He’ll be okay. He just…He hasn't regained consciousness yet.”

“Oh, my God!” I stood up. “Mike!”

“He’ll be fine, look—” He stood up and grabbed my forearm. “I came up here to tell you something.”

“No. I have to go see him.” I went to walk away, but his fingers tightened on my arm.

“Baby, Eric’s leaving.”

“What?” I screeched. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s leaving. He’s got his bag and he’s outside, right now, waiting for a taxi.”

“Why?”

Mike shrugged and opened my door.

“When was he going to tell me this?”

“He wasn’t. He was just gonna leave.”

“Why? Why would he do that?”

“He hates goodbyes, Ara. He didn’t want to upset you—or more to the point, have to see you upset.”

“No! If he's leaving, he can damn well say goodbye.” I stormed out of the room.

“Eric!” I leaped past the last set of stairs and sprung up on the front doorstep. “What are you doing?”

“Ara?” He looked up at Mike as he came out behind me. “Thanks, Mike. So much for a clean getaway.”

“A clean getaway?” I said. “Eric, you don't make clean getaways from your friends.”

“I'm sorry, Ara. I just didn’t wanna do the goodbyes.”

“But what about me? What if I wanted to?” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me cry.

“Aw, kiddo.” I heard a car pull up on the gravel as Eric’s hand came down on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, but my band just got signed. This a great opportu—”

“What?” I spun around.

“I—” He toed the ground. “We got a contract with a really huge record label, and—”

I cut his words off with my arms around his neck. “Eric, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah.” He laughed, patting my back. “I know. So, please don't be upset. I never wanted to leave you, but…this isn't really my thing.” He motioned around the manor. “I kinda got dragged into all this, and, I mean, I’ll always be a friend, but…”

“You have a life to live.” I nodded.

“Yeah.” His lip twitched on one corner.

“Then go.” I patted his shoulder and nodded to the taxi. “This is why I disbanded the Sets, Eric. I want nothing more than for you to have your freedom.”

“See, that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you I was leaving.”

“Why?”

“Because, you’re such a great girl, Amara, and I…I owe you—”

“You owe me? Eric, I think I—”

“No, seriously.” He stopped me. “Look at it from my point of view; I’ve spent my entire vampire existence dying for a way to escape this prison—watching people rise to fame—Biebers and other pop-music douchebags, when I’ve got a sound that could rock the world. You’ve given me the freedom to live that dream, Ara. I owe you, and I really didn’t wanna make you unhappy by leaving.”

“Well, Eric, it’ll make me happy to know that you're living. Okay? So, go—” I gave him an affectionate shove. “Go rock the world.”

He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me slightly off the ground. “Thank you, Ara.”

“Don’t thank me. Just…make sure you send a postcard every ten years or so. Okay?”

“I will, I promise.” He grinned.

“I love you, Eric. I’ll miss you.”

“You too, Ara.” He swallowed, his throat moving with the size of the lump, then picked up his bag. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“Yeah. See ya ‘round.” I nodded, slipping my hands into my back pockets as Eric hopped into the taxi, closed the door and disappeared out of my life.

Mike’s solid form came up beside me.

“Thanks for telling me, Mike.”

“I knew you’d wanna say goodbye.” He looked into the distance and waved.

The manor was dead quiet—all the vampires sleeping. Not a creature was stirring, not even a ghost of the past. I wandered through the open spaces, down lengthy corridors, bare feet over cold ground, carrying a sandwich and a cup of juice. When I reached the stairs, the grandfather clock in the common room down the hall sounded the hour of midnight, and the front door popped open, eyes of surprise meeting mine.

“Ara, what’re you doing out of bed this late?” Jason said, closing the door.

“I could ask you the same thing.” I stepped back off the stairs and wandered over to him. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his thumb over his chin, removing a splotch of blood. “Not mine.”

“Whose is it?”

“Dinner.” He shrugged, popping it in his mouth. “I went hunting.”

My lips fell apart with the drop of my jaw, and I stood motionless, looking at my sandwich then at Jason. “Well, I'm not hungry anymore.” I shoved the plate into his chest and dumped the cup in his hand.

“Ara?” he called out.

“Don't talk to me,” I said.

“Why does it bother you so much for me to kill?”

“I don't know, Jason.” I spun around to look down at him. “Maybe because I used to be your prey!”

The heartbreak across his face made me feel awful. I didn't mean to say that, but I guess that's how I felt. I spun on my heel quickly, running up the stairs to my room, and slammed the door.

By the time clocks all over the manor sent two loud chimes into the air, my guilt had not settled, and only seemed to grow as three, four, five and six chimed, too. The sun came up, shining pink light over my ankles, my legs and my nightdress, where I sat on my settee, repeatedly seeing the look on Jason’s face. He already suffered enough guilt for what he did to me in the past, why did I have to go and make matters worse?

“Hey, Ara.” Quaid stood above me, holding out a sandwich; I didn't even hear him come in.

“Quaid. Hi.” I sat up a little, taking the plate.

“Jason dropped this off for you.” He sat down on the coffee table in front of me. “He told me what happened.”

I thumbed the bread, checking the filling. “Yeah. I feel awful. I shouldn’t have said that to him.”

“He’s okay, you know.” He grabbed the blanket from behind me and wrapped my shoulders. “He’s not mad at you.”

“I know. It’s not him being mad I was worried about.”

“Hurt?”

I nodded.

“He might be a little hurt. But he knows you—we all know you, Ara. You didn't really mean that—especially not if you were getting a sandwich at the time.”

I smiled at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re hell grumpy when you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, true, I guess.” I popped a bit of bread into my mouth.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” He nodded at my collarbone.

“This?” I grabbed my locket. “Jason had it. David gave it to me when we were younger.”

He smiled warmly. “My mum had one just like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I bought it for her thirtieth birthday.”

“Thirtieth? I don't think I was even crawling when my mum was thirty.”

He laughed. “Mum was pretty young when she had me.”

“Where is she now?”

His eyes wandered away. “She died.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was her time.”

I nodded, breaking off another small corner of my sandwich. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“How come your name is Shamus? I mean, isn't that kind of a weird name for a guy who’s…”

“Black?” He laughed, nodding. “Yeah. My mother was Irish.”

I frowned to myself. “Really?”

“No.” He laughed louder. “I uh…I actually changed it when I fled the US a few years ago.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Mike told me you were accused of ‘crimes against your country’.”

“Yeah. I was…am innocent, though.”

I nodded. “I know. Mike wouldn’t have you in the Core if he didn't believe that.”

“He’s a good guy—Mike,” Quaid said. “I know you two haven’t really seen eye-to-eye lately, but he cares for you.”

“I know,” I said, sitting up a little more. “So, why did you choose Shamus?”

He shrugged. “Who’s gonna come looking for black guy named Shamus?”

I laughed. “True. What was your name before?”

“Kamau.”

“Nice.” I nodded. “Why not change it back then? You’re free here. Nothing to run from.”

He sniffed once, his eyes thoughtful. “Most people call me Quaid now. Not much need to change it, I guess.”

“Okay then.” I smiled. “But, can I call you Kamau—when you’re off duty?”

He nodded. “You most certainly can.”

“Quaid?” Mike said, tapping on the door.

“Yeah, Chief.” Quaid stood to attention.

“At ease.” Mike leaned into the room. “Just checking you hadn't left your post.”

“Never do, sir.”

I smiled at Quaid then at Mike. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna waste taxpayers’ money on a guard who’s not doing his unnecessary job.”

“I was just delivering a sandwich, sir.” Quaid’s eyes remained forward.

I stood up and dumped the sandwich on the table where Quaid had been sitting. “Don't worry about it, Quaid. Mike’s just afraid he might miss out on two seconds’ worth of gossip.”

“Gossip?” Mike stepped further into my room. “What's that supposed to mean?”

I smirked. “You remember how I said I’d win this fight—that I’d get the knights reassigned and off my permanent trail?”

Mike frowned at me.

“Well, the Upper and Lower House believe you’re paying these guys to be your private spies—to report all my business back to you because of your insane jealously.”

“Ara, what have you done?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“I may or may not have gotten the council on my side. They may or may not be making a ruling about how the Private Guard’s time should be used.”

“Ara, you know why I have the Guard on you. It’s not so I can get all the gossip.”

I shrugged. “Then why do you have them report back everything I do?”

He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

“Yeah, I thought so.” I angled my head to the side, propping one hand on my hip. “We have fifty guards who line halls, doors and walls around this place who, if we get attacked, are trained to save me, and only me. I think I can get by without these guys manning my door and my heels, for that matter.” I jerked a thumb in Quaid’s direction.

Mike sat on my blanket box, his thumb to his brow. “You stupid, stubborn little brat. I can't believe you went behind my back on this, Ara. This has got to be about the dumbest thing you've ever done.”

“No, Mike—this is a game to you. The truth is, you don't like not having control over me, and clearly they keep you too busy here to keep an eye on me yourself. It’s sick. It’s twisted that you pay people to report back everything I do. If they were just guards, who looked at a blank place on the wall, said nothing, kept my business confidential and didn't think it was okay to listen in on my private conversations, I wouldn’t have a problem with this overprotection. But face it, Mike—you know, and everyone here at the manor knows, I am more than safe. You don't need these guys on me.”

His hand moved up his brow, over his head. “So this is what the House meeting has been called for this afternoon?”

My smirk widened. “Girl one; guy nothing.”

He stood up and stormed out of the room. I looked at Quaid, who couldn’t close his mouth.

“Do you think I'm wrong?” I asked.

The stiff soldier fled his spine, leaving the casual, relaxed Kamau behind. “In ways, but in ways, no. I think we should be assigned to watch over you if you’re leaving the manor grounds, but here—” he looked around, shrugging, “—I kinda think you’re okay.”