"Vampires," rumbled the old man, "Are burned by sunlight. We put you in that guest room so we could get direct light from the rising sun."

I frowned. "You wanted to burn me?"

"Oh no," he said quickly, "We weren't actually sure what you were yet. Last night was, ah, hectic to say the least. And Lady Lilly isn't... Well, she hasn't been a vampire for very long. We weren't sure what to expect. She had tried first to turn you into a vampire, but it didn't work. I'd seen people turned and knew it was too late for you..."

The old man trailed off, gazing into the distance. Abruptly he shook his head and went on. "Well, Lilly had some idea that if she tried to enthrall you as well it might help the process somehow. When we returned to the manor we saw that your chest wound had healed, and so had some hope that you might have survived." Again I uneasily felt the place where steel had rent my very heart. Survived. As a vampire.

"But," he continued, "Of course, she had put a lot of her own blood in your mouth, so naturally some remained when you completed the transformation into a thrall. Still, we, or rather she... Had some hope. The sunlight was the surest way to know quickly."

"What would have happened? If I were a vampire." I studied my hand. Unburned. Unmarked entirely, except for the callouses of a swordsman. Had it really been mangled by a knife only minutes ago?

"You would have burned, as if sticking your hand into a fire. No doubt you'd have snatched it back before any real harm was done." Jerrow fiddled with the latch on the window for a moment, then opened it and leaned out. I watched curiously, but he only grunted and closed the window again.

"So," he said, "That's one way to kill a vampire. Get them out in the sun. You probably hadn't noticed before, and I'll explain that later, but Lady Lilly has only ever left the house at night. At least as long as you've known her."

He paused and considered me thoughtfully. "8 months?" he asked. I nodded." You hired me 8 months ago. Though it seems longer for some reason..."

"Yes, well... I'll explain that later too." He said brusquely. I wasn't surprised, now, that I was content to accept this.

My will is no longer my own.

I felt another chill at the thought, but only briefly.

"Well anyway, sunlight. Same as being exposed to a hot flame." The old man looked around the room thoughtfully. "Actual fire works as well, but vampires are very resilient and can heal from almost anything, so you have to burn them very thoroughly. Cutting off the head is another way, if you keep it separated from the body for at least a day."

"Wooden stake to the heart?" I guessed, thinking about peasant superstitions. Cut off the head and drive a stake through the heart, wasn't it?

He grimaced. "No. Well not really. If you have a stake of holly and pierce a vampire's heart, it'll weaken them." He suddenly grinned. "Until they pull it back out and shove it up your ass. I suppose if you tied one up, staked them with holly, and buried them, you could keep a vampire prisoner for a very long time. But if you're in a position to do that you'd be much better advised to just kill them."

"Why holly, specifically?" I wondered.

He shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"

"Fair enough," I said, "Anything else?"

"Bleed them enough, and they die the same as anyone else. That's about it."

I thought about that for a moment. "But stabbing one in the heart isn't enough?" I asked.

"Ah, no." He considered for a few moments before continuing. "Vampires heal fast. About as fast as you do, when given vampire blood. Even a heart wound closes in seconds. You'd have to do quite a butcher's job on one to bleed them enough for a kill. Better to take off the head if you've got the opportunity."

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"I see," I mused, "Sunlight, fire, beheading and bleeding. How often am I going to need to put this knowledge to use?"

"Things are heating up. A lot more quickly than we expected. We'd hoped to have you..." The old man trailed off, studying me. I frowned back at him "Have me?" I prompted.

"Thing is..." He trailed off again, looking uneasy. I waited.

"The thing is... We hired you for a reason." The old man spoke hesitantly, uncomfortably. "Everything's gone to shit and there's no reason not to tell you, now. I don't know that it's my place to tell you, but... Well..." He cleared his throat. "The lady wanted you for a consort."

My eyebrows climbed. "A what?"

He waved his hand "A husband, only vampires don't say husband or wife. They live so long that they see all relationships as temporary, in the long run."

"She wanted to marry me?" I should have been shocked. Instead I felt... flattered? And almost as if I'd already known, though as far as I could recall our relationship had been nothing but professional. It would have been wildly inappropriate for a Baroness to marry a commoner. "Would I have had any say in the matter?"

Jerrow arched one eyebrow with a sardonic smile. "No. But you wouldn't have objected. There's a, ah, method to these things."

"Something to do with why I never noticed that lady Lillian has never exposed herself to sunlight?" I guessed. I wonder if my transformation into a walking corpse was not the beginning of my enthrallment.

"Something like that, yes." He sighed. "That's enough for now, though." His thin lips drew into a thinner line, as he studied me again. "Now, though, I think I need to really drive home just how different your new life," he quirked a tight smile, "is going to be."

"That sounds ominous." I said uneasily. Cutting my hand open wasn't a strong enough demonstration?

"Yes. I won't beat around the bush, Calor. You're going to do murder. Bloody murder. A lot of it. That is your lot in... unlife. That is your reason for being. Your master has to feed on the lives of living people, and you are going to help her do so. Today."

In spite of the strange mellowing of my emotions that had allowed me to face these utterly fantastic revelations with equanimity, those words chilled me to my very core.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, suddenly wanting very much for this all to be some very elaborate prank. But I knew, with certainty and clarity, that what I was told was true.

I'd fought in the army, and I'd killed at least three men in battle. I would have said four, but the last had apparently been a thrall, and unbothered by having his throat torn open.

Cold blooded murder of an innocent was something else entirely.

"Do..." my voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. "Do I get a choice?" An ironic echo of my earlier question about marriage. How macabre.

"No." The old man's voice was heavy. "But at least your first murder won't be an innocent. We have one of the bandits tied up in the basement. You'll start with him. With any luck we won't have to resort to snatching people off the street."

Jerrow paused then spoke more quietly. "We haven't yet... Not for Lady Lillian, at least. The old Baron and his, ah, wife, weren't always able to find the obvious murderers and scoundrels of society in my time with them. Almost certainly there will come a day when you have to take innocent life to serve your lady."

Silence grew between us as we stared at each other. I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling a tide of emotion surging against the unnatural calm that had suffused me since waking.

"What if..." I struggled to find the right words, the enormity of the situation suddenly bearing down on me. "What... What if I'd rather not? Not be. I mean... I died right?" The strange calm cracked as my voice rose sharply on one word. "Can't I... Can't I choose the normal way? Can't I just be dead instead of this... this..." A whirlwind of emotion began to seep through. I clutched at the bed sheets I sat upon. I was breathing rapidly, and the realization that I did not need to breathe at all was not helping.

Jerrow looked at me with growing concern. "Calm yourself..." He said, raising both hands in a suppressive gesture.

Those two words were like a bucket of cold water. The strange contentment settled over me again, walling off the fear, and dread, and horror that had been rising within. I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath in and out. "Thank you." I said, and looked back to him.

He still looked concerned. "What happened?" He asked, and I just returned his look, baffled.

"I uh, was beginning to panic," I said "But you... told me not to. So I didn't. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

The look of concern didn't leave the old man's face. "You shouldn't have..." He shook his head. "We'll worry about that later. Maybe because you haven't had the script yet. Regardless. No, you are not allowed to die." He spoke firmly. "Your life, your existence, doesn't belong to you any more. You are a thrall. There's actually some comfort in that, really. You aren't really responsible for your actions when you don't have a choice in the matter."

He paused again, but before the silence could begin to grow he spoke gruffly. "Let's go. Marten should be guarding the prisoner in the storage room next to the wine cellar. We'll need to stop by the kitchen on the way."

I had a firm suspicion as to why, but did not ask. I rose to my feet, and though I felt that my knees should be shaking I stood firm. I gestured to the door.

"Lea-" my voice cracked again. "Lead on."