The Weight of Immortality

Chapter 1: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

"Kuro," asked Mahiru, glancing over at him. "Don't you have any subclass?"

Kuro sighed, not looking at his eve. He was busy keeping his boots out of the murky puddles that dotted the dingy, narrow alley. He hated wet boots. He hated being here. But at least the city was quieter at night. Still, he'd much rather be home asleep on Mahiru's couch. But no, Mahiru had a new self-appointed mission. They were tailing his brother Lawless, the Servamp of Greed, and the human Kuro suspected to be Greed's newest eve. Of all the Servamps Mahiru could have chosen to follow, it just had to be Lawless. Greed was impulsive, immature, and… callous. Dangerous, intentionally or otherwise. But Mahiru, for once, was determined.

"Kuro?" repeated his eve, forcibly dragging him out of his thoughts.

"No," said Kuro, with a grunt. "I don't have any subclass."

He'd known this question was coming ever since Mahiru had seen Lust's myriad of subclass children. He was actually a bit surprised it had taken his eve this long to ask. But that didn't make it any easier to answer. To answer meant getting dangerously close to thinking about her... about them.

"Why not?" asked Mahiru, as he stooped to pick up an empty glass bottle and toss it into a trash bin with a clatter. "All the other servamps seem to."

Kuro could feel Mahiru watching him, those brown eyes that seemed to see more than Kuro was comfortable with; always searching, probing.

"Too… troublesome," he said, walking faster and hunching his shoulders so the furred hood of his coat better hid his face.

"Troublesome? I thought the subclass had to do what their servamps told them. How is that troublesome?"

He sighed. "You're my eve, I have to do what you tell me to. That means you make the decisions but you also take all the blame. Why would I want to be responsible for someone else?"

Mahiru was quiet for a moment, mulling that over. "But you hardly ever listen to me."

Kuro grimaced. That was because Mahiru rarely actually ordered him to do anything. His commands had all the conviction of a suggestion. A slight tug or push that could be resisted or ignored. Kuro's eve didn't usually have it in him to force him to do anything. But Mahiru didn't need to know that. Kuro didn't want anything to do with Mahiru's hair-brained schemes and if he could get away with doing nothing, he would.

"Still too often," muttered Kuro, wrinkling his nose as he dodged around a trash bag whose fettered contents were spilled over the ground. "Besides, making a subclass is complicated."

"Complicated?"

He groaned internally. Should have kept his mouth shut. Of course, Mahiru would want an explanation, and his eve was the type to pester him until he got one.

"A subclass is made when a person who is newly dead, or on the brink of death, drinks servamp blood."

"Yeah?" prompted Mahiru, his brow furrowed. "What's so complicated about that?"

Geez, this kid was so young and naive.

"Who can tell if the other person even wants to continue living?"

"That's stupid," said Mahiru, stopping as Kuro passed by him. "People always want to live."

Kuro stopped and looked back at his eve, meeting Mahiru's eyes and holding them.

"No, they don't."

It was quiet for a long moment save for the hum of the streetlight at the end of the alley. After several heartbeats, Mahiru broke and looked away, troubled. Kuro turned and continued walking, his eve trailing behind.

"Even if they did, what kind of a life would it be?" continued Kuro. "Sure, servamps can live without drinking blood if we really want to and we don't die in the sun, but for a subclass, neither is an option. Who would want to be a monster, a blood drinker who can't ever see the sun again."

Kuro had certainly never wanted it and he had it easier than any subclass. Not that it was simple to constantly resist the thirst for fresh blood. But Mahiru didn't need to know that. Didn't need to be reminded again about the monster he was living with.

"But what if they said they wanted to become a subclass anyway?" pressed Mahiru.

Kuro waved his hand dismissively. "Dying people are usually in crisis and people in crisis make stupid mistakes. I don't want to be responsible. Not for them, their choice, or what they do after. I want nothing to do with it." There was another long pause in which Kuro could hear his eve's footsteps stop and then resume, the squelch of his wet tennis shoes on the pavement behind him.

"Would it really be so bad?" pressed Mahiru. "To make a subclass? We could have more allies. We could protect more people."

Kuro let the question hang in the muggy night air for several seconds, making his Eve squirm before he finally spoke. "The world has enough monsters without making more."

This whole conversation was getting to be a real pain. They made it to the end of the alley and out onto a quiet backstreet before Mahiru broke his silence yet again.

"Kuro, you've been alive for hundreds of years, right?"

What was the kid getting at? He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he felt uneasy with this new turn in the conversation. Couldn't Mahiru just walk in silence?

"Yeah, if you can call it living."

"Well then, what about..." started Mahiru, before pausing and then jogging to catch up and walk beside him. "What about Eves? Have you had other Eves? I can't have been the only one, right?"

Kuro's feet stopped, frozen in place.

And there it was, the old anguish, yanked back to the surface with a simple question. The tightness in his chest constricted his lungs, squeezing them shut. His stomach churned and roiled as he fought back against the memories. All of them. The ones that rang with laughter and glittered with joy, the ones stained with confusion and smeared with guilt, and the ones drowned in agony and loss. The smells, the sounds, the touches, and the ever tantalizing, ever inviting taste sliding over his tongue. All of it flooded back to him in a sudden, frigid rush of blinding memory. And in the end… it was always the same. The black heartache was always there to suck him back down. Too much.

He didn't want to think about this right now. He didn't want to think about it ever again, especially not as he was about to face Lawless. He couldn't help but hold a bit of resentment even if it hadn't really been Greed's fault. More than likely, Lawless didn't even know what had happened. But Kuro knew. Greed's carelessness had cost Kuro. It had cost him everything.

The snicker in the back of his consciousness reminded him he was not the soul denizen in his own mind. Never alone.

'Come now Sleepy Ash, you know whose fault it was. If only you had been... stronger, acted sooner, maybe you could have saved her… saved them. I could have done it, but you… you prefer to be weak.'

"Kuro?" asked Mahiru, turning back to look at him.

Better to ignore it, pretend he couldn't hear, pretend its words weren't true. But… everything had been his fault. If only he'd stayed away. If only he had acted sooner… been less complacent. If only he hadn't cared at all, maybe then it would have been different. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt this much every time he remembered.

"Kuro? Is something wrong?" asked Mahiru, stepping toward him.

'Yes, Sleepy Ash,' said the sickly familiar voice, goading him. 'Go on, tell the kid what's really wrong with you. Tell him what happened to your other Eve. See how quickly he tries to leave then, not that he can. He's cursed to be chained to a monster for the rest of his life… however short that may be. So go ahead, make him fear you. It's only right to fear a monster after all. Tell him, Ash. Tell Mahiru what happened to Lyla.'

"Shut up!" growled Kuro, grabbing at his hair, as if he could pull the voice from his mind as easily as his hair from his head. "Shut up! Shut up!"

Beside him, Mahiru flinched. His Eve was already scared of him and he didn't even know the truth. But Mahiru had been scared of him before… and then seemingly forgotten that fear. Stupid kid had no sense of self-preservation. He should be scared, and stay scared. Still, he hadn't meant his words for Mahiru. He'd meant them for it. Even so, this was not something he was going to talk about. With anyone. Ever.

"Sorry," said Mahiru, his voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by Kuro's still pounding heart. Kuro was silent for a long moment, and mercifully so was the thing in his head. Better just to move on. The sooner they got this crap done the sooner he could sleep. Sleep was oblivion.

"That weirdo with the wings is going to get away," he said, pointing ahead to where Lawless and the strange boy had just disappeared around a corner.

"Alright," said Mahiru, uneasy, his brown eyes once again probing. Kuro remained silent. At last, Mahiru took the olive branch. "Let's go."

********

Ash's slender figure hopped from rock to rock, trying to pick out the best path across the river, not wanting to wet his boots. So troublesome, and with more than a day's walk still to go, soggy clothes were undesirable. Springs in England were always wet, constantly raining, the excess water making the streams and rivers swell into the frothing, churning mess in front of him. But springs meant less sun and that suited him just fine. Better in fact. He scrutinized his surroundings, drawing the cloak further around him.

There was a bridge a few miles upriver, closer to the village, but that was out of the question. Out of the way and troublesome. He'd attract too much attention even with his hood up. Too much attention, too much curiosity, too much fear. Wet boots were less trouble. Wet boots could dry but rumors were hard to control. They could be dangerous. Still, it was a lot of effort just to cross a river.

At least the day was overcast. Fogbanks oozed through the forested countryside and shrouded the world in a gray gloomy mist. Sun would have forced him into his other form and crossing the river as a cat would have been near impossible, here or at the bridge. People didn't like cats; didn't trust them. Particularly black ones, not here in England anyway. Something about being an incarnation of Satan and his demons, associated with witchcraft. Witchcraft was big these days, or at least hunting witches was. Suspicions ran high and stupidity was rampant.

It was bad enough that everyone was on the lookout for so-called witches. They weren't supposed to know about his kind, although with all the subclasses running amuck, stories were beginning to spread. Gear always kept his ears open for rumors about supernatural beings such as themselves. Whisperings of night creatures that fed on blood were beginning to spread from Bulgaria and Romania, probably due to Pride and his subclass. He hadn't seen Pride for some 30 years.

Soon the tails would reach England as well. Panic and fear always spread faster than sensibility. Stories of the Werewolf of Bedburg and others of Italy and France had helped to fuel the recent witch and werewolf hunts here in England. It had been tense at times over the past couple hundred years as the fears of witches and werewolves had waxed and waned. It had been difficult to convince Gear to lie low at times, his impetuosity sometimes getting the better of him. But ever since they had been forced to abandon their last dwelling some hundred years ago Gear had at least attempted to quell his wolfish desires. It hadn't helped dispel the fear, not that Ash had expected it to.

Sometimes the simple spread of a plague or other illness was enough to spark rumors of witchcraft. People were so quick to accuse another, and the price for their accusation was often torture and death. Stories of vampires however had not yet spread to England, and the occasional case that might have been attributed to an errant subclass was most often mistaken for a supposed werewolf or witch. Either way, it was troublesome to pass near a town.

So here he was scouring the bank of a river looking for a way to cross. He picked his way over brambles toward a downed pine tree that spanned most of the river. That looked promising. He could probably jump the last 15 feet or so, even without needing a running start.

It wasn't just the people in the villages either, there were also the animals. The dumb, domesticated ones didn't shy away from him, but the dogs could hardly tolerate his presence. Even in his human form the dogs still growled, making the people around them wary of him.

Perhaps he should visit Egypt as Gear had suggested. Apparently, in Egypt, cats were worshiped and revered, said to ward off evil. Said to ward off things… things like him. Even cats didn't like him, hissing and spitting when he came near. Just another reminder that he was unnatural.

He shook himself. Whatever, didn't matter. Soon he would be back in Gear's cottage in front of the crackling fire doing… nothing. Maybe. If the cottage was still standing that was, and it wasn't occupied. What had it been, nine years since he left for Italy with Gear?

They had left right after the outbreak of the civil wars in England. Didn't want to get drawn into the conflict like Wrath or Gluttony who probably jumped in fists first. Too much violence… too much blood and temptation. Not enough peace and quiet.

No, it was better to follow Gear to Italy as he investigated Evangelista Torricelli and his new contraptions. Simpler, even if it was a long way to travel. They had spent the last nine years quietly touring Europe, visiting up-and-coming inventors. Gear had been enthralled with each new contraption or innovation. Ash didn't mind, he could pass as a pet when Gear traveled. And when they settled for a month or year here or there he could rest. Gear on the other hand had the restless energy of the wolf and was always after the newest novelty, trying to stave off the boredom of immortality.

Ash snorted. Immortality, the dream of humanity. Immortality was overrated. It was not a blessing, not a gift. It was a curse, it was damnation. He'd never asked for this, never wanted it. He'd been content to face his death, at an odd peace with it even. He'd thought he had died a hero. He'd thought he was helping the village who had taken him in. They had needed a scapegoat to divert the Lord's wrath. Ash just hadn't anticipated it would cost his life. But expected or not, his death should have been meaningful. But even that consolation had been stripped from him when he woke to find himself alive once more. More or less alive, if you could consider his continued, perpetual existence living. He'd been brought back to life against his will. But his continued existence had had an unconscionable cost. So many lives… just gone, and for what?

He wasn't a hero. He was a monster, a demon, unnatural and feared; even by himself. No, immortality was no prize. Immortality was an unending oblivion. Envy had understood that.

He pushed through the needle-laden branches near the bank where the tree was still alive and out over the water. The bark on the tree was slick under his boots as the moisture from the river had begun to grow a film of algae along its surface. At least his cat reflexes were useful for steadying himself. The rushing water lapped and frothed against the side of the partially submerged tree. He weaved around the jagged remains of dead branches that jutted towards the sky, like dry brittle fingers reaching for the sun. A stray branch caught his cloak, bringing him to an abrupt and slippery halt. Exasperated, he paused to free the cloth, sighing at the new hole in the material. He slipped out of the cloak and balled it under his arm before continuing along the tree.

He shivered. He hated the cold, his kind being particularly susceptible to it, unlike Gear who was a veritable heater. The fabric of Ash's loose white shirt and tan pants hardly staved off the breeze or chilling mist. Still, his clothing was thicker than most people wore these days. Gear pandered to Ash's comfort, finding him clothes made of the newest fabric even if Ash insisted they remain simple. Gaudy clothes attracted attention… but comfort, that was welcome.

He should hurry back to the cottage before the weather shifted and he was stuck as a cat. He was supposed to be getting the cottage ready for Gear's return as soon as his distraction in Germany ended. But that could be a while, depending on how interesting the inventions of Otto Von Something-or-others were. Weeks, even months.

Still, doing nothing in front of a crackling fire sounded nice. But then again, doing nothing always sounded nice. Sloth, that's what the others had called him. Sleepy Ash of Sloth, The Silent Demise. The first of his kind. Would to God that he was the only of his kind… or that his kind had never existed at all, but that wasn't up to him. Not his business. Not his problem. Couldn't do anything about it anyway.

He was drawn abruptly from his thoughts as a distressed cry rang clearly over the roar of the rushing water.

"Ellie! Ellie, hold on!"

Ash froze, his body tensing as he searched the surrounding woods for the source of the cry. It had been a young boy, panicked and frantic.

"Ellie! Where are you!" It was a scream now. "Ellie!"

Ash strained his eyes but still couldn't see the boy, though the cries were getting closer. Perhaps there was a lost child about. He needed to get out of here, to get away. He couldn't be seen. His looks were anything but natural with his shoulder-length silver-blue hair. If that wasn't enough to draw attention, his crimson eyes and fangs would seal the deal. Might as well turn himself over to the church for his trial and execution as a witch, or witch's familiar. Either way, the fact that he couldn't die would present its own problems.

"Ellie!"

He moved along the tree, intent on disappearing into the woods on the other side of the river when a garbled cry caught his attention and drew his eyes upstream. Something was bobbing in the current. A mass of curly dark hair broke the surface. A child? A girl. She cried out again, flailing as she fought to stay afloat.

"Ma… Mark!" Her head slipped under, her voice cut off as water filled her mouth.

"Ellie!" came the return cry.

He needed to leave. The boy would come into view and spot him. He crept further down the tree and was about to jump when his bundled cloak once again caught on a branch and he was forced to stop and try to untangle it. But despite his caught cloak, his eyes were drawn to the river. The little girl bobbed towards him in the current, heading directly for him.

Too far. The boy was too far upstream and the current was swift. The girl was midstream, far out of the reach of the boy. He shook his head and returned to trying to free his cloak. He needed to leave. He shouldn't put himself, and by extension Gear at risk of discovery. He needed to...

The girl drifted right towards him, first, her hair breaking the surface and then a small foot. His fingers fell idle. She was going to drown before any help could reach her. He stood frozen, unable to make himself move, unable to flee as her form drifted closer, his eyes transfixed on her plight. She was going to see him. The boy would see him. He needed to…

She was feet from him now, flailing as the water sucked her closer to the downed tree pulling her deeper under the surface as it went underneath the trunk. A pale face flashed up at Ash, wide pleading blue eyes filled with terror locking with his. A small hand shot to the surface, reaching, grasping, little fingers begging for help. Unbidden and almost against his will he found himself reaching for the small hand, catching it almost a moment too late.

He hadn't accounted for the strength of the current. Its force broke his precarious balance, pulling him forward and down after the little girl. Frigid water closed over his head, the cold engulfing him, but all he could feel were the small fingers squeezing his with a death grip. One moment he was floating with the water and the next he was caught, pinned beneath the tree as the water rushed around him. Still, the little hand clung to his. He couldn't help but curse himself. He hadn't thought this through. Hadn't thought at all. The girl's smaller body had slipped between the branches of the tree but his had not. He could let her go but then she would be right where she had been moments ago. He may as well not have reached for her in the first place. But if he didn't let go she would also drown, his larger body trapping her there.

This body… this form was too large, but…

Being sure to grasp her hand tightly, he let himself slip into his cat form. He was gratified to feel her hand instantly close around his smaller paw as he slipped through the branches and the current began to carry them again. The moment they were both free, he shifted again. There was a heart-stopping moment when her hand vanished but then it was there again clutching his sleeve. He reached for her small body, tucking her under his arm.

This was not good. He hadn't meant to fall in. The water was not deep, hardly taller than a man but that didn't mean it wasn't powerful. Running water was a nuisance, quickly sapping his strength, and making him weaker the longer he was in it. Gear had had to drag him out the last time he'd fallen into running water, not that he would have died… just sunk to the bottom unable to move, unable to die. Stuck. Already he could feel the strength leaving his limbs, like crawling through mud. He needed to get them out of the water, now.

He struggled to right himself before sinking to the bottom, conserving his remaining strength. He felt his feet touch a boulder and crouching, he kicked off using all his strength and shot up out of the water in the direction of the bank. The water absorbed much of his momentum but it was enough to break them free of the current to where he could catch hold of another fallen tree. It was a struggle but he clawed his way out of the water, the girl, amazingly, still in his grip. He staggered his way to shore pushing through the shrubbery, the soft muddy bank sucking at his boots as he slipped and slid in the muck. The girl was limp. He tried not to panic as he knelt and laid her on her side. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't breathing. Had she already drowned? He could feel the water in his lungs but he couldn't die. She could. He shook her shoulder, unsure what to do.

"Ellie!" came the scream further upriver.

Ash looked up but the voice was still a ways off. No doubt the boy was being slowed by the brambles and deadfall along the bank. He returned his attention to the girl beside him. She was young, perhaps six, with masses of dark hair that hung in rings and lay plastered to her face and neck. Her skin was almost too pale. He reached out to wipe the mud spotted over her nose only to find it was a smattering of freckles. At his touch, her nose wrinkled and she began to cough, heaving up water.

"Ellie, where are you!" came the desperate cry, the end breaking off into a sob. "Ellie, please!"

Ash searched the riverbank, not wanting to be spotted. He should leave now. The girl was no longer in danger and the boy was sure to…

Something tugged on his sleeve and he glanced down only to be caught by those wide blue eyes again. He cursed under his breath and tried to pull away but her hand was fisted in his sleeve. She continued to cough, the little fingers never releasing their grip.

"Ellie!" came the cry, much closer. There was a figure approaching through the trees. Ash pulled at the little girl's hand but she only clung tighter. "Ellie, where are you?" The boy was clearly sobbing now.

"Ma… Mark. I'm … I'm here," the girl called weakly.

No! This could not be happening. It was bad enough the girl had seen him. One child's tales of a strange person after having nearly drowned could be dismissed as delirium, but two? He had to disappear. In an instant, he had transformed again. He leapt forward, trying to run into the bushes and escape, but he was brought up short by a sudden pain in his rear. Aghast, he turned to find the little girl sitting, one hand firmly holding his tail. That was going to smart later.

"Don't go," she implored, releasing his tail long enough to scoop him into her arms. He struggled, trying to escape, but while she didn't squeeze him, she held him firmly in place.

If he were simply a cat, using his claws and teeth would have been an option but for him, it was unwise to risk drawing blood, particularly with his teeth. She held him prisoner. This was not good. Why wouldn't she just let him go?

"Ma…Mark. Over here," she called again before breaking into another coughing fit, each spasm of her chest squeezing him closer to her. "I'm here Mark."

"Ellie!" came a relieved sob as a boy stumbled into sight and clambered over a fallen tree.

He was older than the girl, maybe ten, with wavy black hair that fell across his blue eyes. Siblings then, and both of them skinny things, dressed in simple if not ragged clothing. The boy, presumably Mark, dropped to his knees in front of his sister and the next thing Ash knew he was being pressed firmly between the two children, and the air squeezed out of him. Too much trouble. Finally, the boy pulled back and Ash could breathe again.

"Ellie are you okay?" asked Mark, examining his sister's face before his eyes swept over her body. Ash froze, willing the boy not to see him.

"I'm all right." Ellie coughed again. "A bit bumped around and wet."

"Don't ever do that again?" scolded Mark, taking Ellie by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. "I nearly died of fright! You.. you nearly died." His voice broke and he swiped at his eyes, his head hung slightly.

Ellie leaned forward peering up at her brother before taking his hand. "I'm okay. Really. I'm sorry… sorry I scared you."

It was silent for several long minutes as the boy struggled to get himself under control. Ash could feel the girl's grip on him slacking and he made another bid for freedom. He had almost escaped her lap when he was scooped up by the boy. Mark held him at arm's length, studying him.

"What is this thing?" he asked dubiously.

"Hey, give my cat back," protested Ellie, reaching for him. Mark held him higher out of reach, scrutinizing him.

"This wet muddy thing is a cat?"

Ash meowed indignantly, his tail tucked between his legs as he hung there. Yes, he was. Well, sort of.

"Yes, and he's mine. Now give him back," insisted Ellie, rescuing Ash from her brother and tucking him securely back into the crook of her arm. "And we're both wet and muddy."

Mark leaned back on his hands watching them. "You can't keep him. You know what everyone says about cats, especially black ones."

Ellie looked away, refusing to meet her brother's eyes. "I don't care."

"You should," insisted Mark. "Mom's going to say no."

"Mom doesn't believe all that stuff about cats."

"Doesn't matter. It's too dangerous."

Ellie huffed irritably, holding him tighter. "I'm still taking him home. He's wet and cold."

Ash squirmed. So much for making a getaway.

"I bet he's hungry," said Ellie, her voice brightening. Ash's ears flicked forward, listening. "We could at least feed him before Mom gets home."

Then again, it couldn't hurt to go with the girl for a little while. He couldn't die of starvation but that didn't mean he didn't suffer from hunger pangs. He was always hungry. He would stay long enough to dry off, accept some food, and then when the girl had her back turned he'd slink off. He'd get back to the cottage a little later than he'd planned but he'd arrive with a full stomach. It was a sure thing that after nine years there was no food in Gear's cottage. There was no real rush to get back, and even if the girl told strange stories no one would believe a half-drowned child.

"I don't know," said Mark skeptically. "There's something off about your cat. I've never seen a cat with red eyes, and what's with his tail?" The boy lifted the end of Ash's tail. "It's all tufted at the end and longer than any cat's tail I've ever seen. And his face is fluffy. Looks more like a lion's mane."

Ash peeked up at the boy who was closer to the truth than he realized. He'd have to be careful to act particularly cat-like. Gear always said he had a bad habit of adopting the postures and attitudes of a human when in his cat form.

"So he's special," said Ellie, retrieving his tail. "I think he's cute."

Ash's tail flicked. She thought that now but if she truly saw him… she'd be terrified.

"Whatever." Mark got to his feet and held out his hand to help his sister up. "Just so long as you don't expect to keep him. Where did you get him anyway?"

Ash braced for the words he was sure were to come next.

"He was in the river. That's how I fell in, trying to get him out. You were busy pulling in your fish."

Ash peeked up at the girl. This kid was a natural-born liar and it's such a young age. She had flipped the truth effortlessly. Not that he was complaining. Still, why had she done it?

"Sorry," said Mark, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out over the river. He frowned and then looked back at Ellie. "How did you manage to get out of the river on your own?"

Ash braced again. But the girl had a ready answer for this as well.

"The tree," she said, pointing to the fallen tree near the bank. "I caught hold of it as I went by and pulled myself up to shore." Her brother studied her face, not seeming entirely convinced. After a moment he relaxed.

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"If you say so. I'm just glad you're safe." He pulled his arms out of his knit shirt and slipped it over his head. He held it out to his sister. "You look cold."

"Thanks," said Ellie, reluctantly handing Ash to her brother while she pulled the too-large shirt over her head. Mark held Ash up to look him in the eye again. Ash mewed mournfully, hoping he sounded convincing.

"Let's go home," said Mark, handing Ash back to Ellie. "We need to get you out of your wet clothes. Hopefully, before Mom finds out."

"What about your fishing line? Did you catch the fish?"

"Oh!" said Mark, looking back upstream. "I forgot. I'll run and grab it. You start for home and I'll catch up."

"Alright," said Ellie through chattering teeth. "Hurry though."

Ash watched the boy disappear and relaxed. That is, until Ellie held him at arm's length watching him. His feet hung helplessly in the air, his tail flicking back and forth and she continued to hold him there, waiting. This was growing uncomfortable and he began to squirm.

"You are a very special cat aren't you," she said at last.

He froze, watching her, his ears pinned flat to his head. She kept studying him as if expecting him to answer. If that's what she was hoping for she could forget it.

"You don't have to answer," she said as if reading his mind. "You pulled me out of the river. I won't tell." She tucked him back into her arms and began to pick her way over the rocks, heading away from the river.

Ash let himself settle into her arms, giving in to her stubborn insistence. Tired, he found himself relaxing into her, his lulling tail swinging back and forth, brushing against her hip as she walked. It took him several minutes to pinpoint what was odd about the child's gait. It wasn't until they were out on a flat stretch of ground that he realized the odd movement was more than just the girl picking her way over the rocks. This child had a pronounced limp on the left side. When she looked down at him her lips were tinged blue with cold but there was no pain in her expression. Just how far were they from her home?

A crashing and breaking of twigs heralded the return of the boy as he came galumphing back into view, triumphantly carrying two large fish. The brother didn't seem to notice or mind his sister's limp. Perhaps it was an old injury. The children walked in relative silence, only occasionally exchanging words as they went.

Eventually, they came over a little rise and into a clearing. Ash lifted his head sniffing and his ears flicked to and fro. There were sheep nearby and a fire burning. But there was also a myriad of other scents and sounds he could not immediately identify.

"Do you think Mom's back yet?" asked Ellie, one of her hands coming to rest on Ash's head. Mark bit his lip.

"Probably, the sheep are out and a fire is going. She didn't have much yarn to sell today."

Ellie paused, her grip on Ash tightening. "She's going to be angry isn't she."

Mark nodded. "She'll say I wasn't watching you close enough. But the cat, that's on you."

Ellie frowned, and Ash could hear her heartbeat race a bit faster. Mark stopped and turned to look at her.

"Come on," he said, holding out a hand. "She'll probably just be glad you're safe. Let's go get you clean and dry."

They continued along the footpath for several more minutes until a little cottage came into view. A small stone building sat nestled inside a fenced yard. Inside the fence were rows of neatly tended gardens. Ivy grew over the walls of the house and along the fence. Moss and lichen spotted the roof which looked slightly sunken. Several lean-to's and outbuildings lay behind the house and the sound of sheep, cows, pigs, and chickens reached them as the children pushed through the squeaky gate of the fence.

"Close the gate," called a woman's muffled but exasperated voice from inside the house. Sighing, Mark turned and closed and latched the gate which had indeed been left to swing open. They approached the front door and Mark glanced at his sister before he reluctantly opened the door.

A wash of scents hit Ash's nose and he flinched, his ears flattening as he adjusted to the barrage. The interior of the house was bright, the shutters of the windows flung wide. As far as he could tell the house consisted of the main room and a smaller back room. The main room housed a fireplace to the right, a large prep table in the center, a smaller table with three chairs pushed into the corner near the door, and a neat row of shelves that ran along the remaining walls. The torrent of smells came from the bunches of herbs and flowers that were hung from strings tied to pegs in the rafters. It made the room seem like some bizarre upside-down garden where all the plants had been neglected and left to die.

"Mom?" called Mark, looking around.

"Here," called the voice from the back room. Feet scraped over the stone floor as a woman stepped through the doorway leading to the back room. She was of average height and build with dark wavy hair like her son. But her freckled face, like her daughters, seemed too pale against her hair. Her clothes were simple; a wide-necked top held in place with a simple, lace-up bodice. On top of her floor-length skirt was a many-pocketed apron, some of its pockets still full of various plants and tools.

"Where have you been," she asked, stifling a yawn, but her eyes narrowed and her body straightened as she took in her children's appearance. "What happened?" Her tone was flat and her hands moved to rest on her hips. "Why is Ellie wet and covered in mud?"

The children glanced at each other and Mark opened his mouth to speak but Ellie beat him to it.

"I fell in the river."

The woman's green eyes flashed to her son. Ash ducked lower in Ellie's arms.

"What were you doing near the river?"

"It wasn't his fault," said Ellie. "I slipped and fell in. He was watching me, I just wasn't being careful."

"What possessed you to go to the river," scolded their mother, her eyes not leaving her son. "You know how fast the water is in the spring. Ellie's not supposed to go near the river unless I'm around. You know she can't swim yet."

"I was fishing." Mark held up his catch not wanting to meet his mother's eyes. Ash didn't blame him. Angry mothers were scary.

"I just wanted us to have some fish for dinner. I was getting tired of plain potatoes," Mark said, muttering the last bit under his breath.

Their mother pinched the bridge of her nose but turned her attention to her daughter. Ash tucked his head down trying to shrink into Ellie's arms and disappear.

"That still doesn't explain how Ellie got close enough to fall into the river."

Ellie shifted her grip on Ash and held him in front of her so her mother could see. "I was trying to save the cat." Ash hung there in the air, ears flat and tail curled between his legs as the woman surveyed him. This was definitely too much attention.

"You risked your life to save this scrawny thing?" asked the woman, reaching for him. Ellie pulled him out of her mother's reach, holding him protectively.

"He's not scrawny," said Ellie defensively. "He's nice."

The woman sighed and knelt in front of her daughter. "Ellie, it's still just a cat. I know you love animals, but you can't risk your life for them. Please, don't ever do that again." Ellie was silent for a long moment, not meeting her mother's eyes, before nodding.

"I need to hear it, Ellie."

"I won't," promised Ellie, her grip on Ash tightening unconsciously. Too tight. He mewed unhappily and she instantly relaxed her grip. There were several long moments of silence.

"Let me see the cat."

"You're not going to throw him out are you?" Ellie twisted her body to hold Ash out of reach.

"No, I'm not."

Ash tensed as Ellie reluctantly released him. The woman took him into her arms but he curled in on himself.

"Shy, isn't he?" said the woman, her fingers digging into the wet fur around his ears, rubbing softly.

Oh… that… that felt nice. Her fingers dug deeper, rubbing and massaging his ears, head, and neck. How… how was she doing that?

He'd been shifting into a cat for hundreds of years now but he'd lived a solitary life with Gear since meeting him so long ago. Rarely had anyone other than Gear seen him in his cat form, let alone had reason to touch him. Gear tended to treat him like a human no matter what form he was in and rarely if ever petted him. He wasn't a cat after all. Or so he'd thought...

But this woman… she had some sort of magic in her fingers. She ran them through his dirty fur, relaxing him stroke by stroke. Against his will, he melted into her attention. Her hands explored further, rubbing down his back, along his sides, and brushing over his tail. She rubbed down his legs one by one, massaging the pads of his feet. His mind was a haze. Maybe… maybe he should have Gear pet him... it felt amazing.

"He doesn't seem injured," said the woman, shifting her grip on him and scratching under his chin.

There was an unfamiliar thrumming in his chest. Was he purring? But he never purred. Never thought he was cat enough, but apparently, he'd been wrong.

Before he knew it he was on his back in the woman's arms and she was running her fingers down his belly towards... Whoa! He caught her hand with his paws, struggling to keep his claws in as he fought down his sudden panic. But the magic fingers gave way, returning to his chest and chin, rubbing small circles and scratching gently. He relaxed again, the purring returning, louder than ever. This felt so good… but in an odd way, he couldn't quite...

"Definitely male," the woman said.

The purring immediately stopped. Ash froze, a wave of embarrassment washing through him. That was too much. He squirmed and flipped himself upright. Leaping to the floor he scurried under the table in the corner. Why was he even here? This was too much trouble for food. He should have escaped when there was still a chance. He buried his head under his paws as he heard the woman chuckle softly.

Ellie's face appeared under the table watching him, her cheeks slightly pink. He glared balefully up at her.

"Sorry," she mouthed.

He turned his back on her, curling into a ball of shame. It was going to be a long time till night and he was stuck here until he could sneak out while they all slept.

"Come on, Ellie," called the woman. "I was boiling water to make a new dye, but it can serve for your bath instead."

Ash stayed tucked in the corner, his head down as Ellie fussed and whined through her bath. Mark occasionally came over and peaked at him, trying to coax him out from under the table but Ash was having none of it. He was not coming out again until he left.

"Mark, go rinse the mud out of your sister's clothes and hang them to dry please." Mark groaned but vanished outside. "Ellie, come put your night clothes on until the others are dry." Ellie disappeared into the back room and the house grew quiet.

Ash stayed put trying to ignore the humans. It didn't last long. One minute Ash was batting idly at a spider crawling across the floor and the next he was being hoisted into the air. The magic fingers were back, rubbing his ears, but he struggled, trying to resist their spell. He was never going to relax around this woman again. He squirmed, but she held him fast, continuing her petting as she approached the table.

"Come on," she said. "If you're staying here tonight you get a bath too."

No! One indignity was already one too many. He was not about to let this woman bathe him, magic fingers or otherwise. He didn't care if he was currently a cat, it was still too embarrassing. Not after what she had done... not after what she'd seen and said. He squirmed, desperately trying to get free, but her grip was firm and before he'd put up much of a fight he was chest-deep in a shallow tub of water. He had to fight to keep himself from simply shifting forms and bolting for the door. Ellie came running into the room, drawn by the splashing.

"Hold still," said the woman, grunting as she tried to hold Ash and scrub his fur at the same time. He yowled piteously, trying to get to the edge of the tub to escape.

"Mom," said Ellie, reaching for him. "Mom, let me do it." Ash thrashed, splashing water up into the woman's face. She gave an irritated huff before relinquishing him to Ellie.

"Get all the mud out of his fur and make sure there are no bugs on him. I'm going to get more water."

Ash sank lower in the tub, his nose only just above the water, his ears flat, growling as he watched the woman. He didn't have bugs. And it was this kid's fault he was muddy, to begin with. He should have just let her drown. The woman grabbed two buckets and in a few moments, it was just Ellie staring down at him. Ash made his way to the edge of the tub, intent on getting out.

"I wouldn't," warned Ellie.

Ash paused and glared up at her before shaking his head splattering her with droplets of water. She scowled and wiped her face on the sleeve of her night dress.

"If we don't get you clean Mom will just come back and do it herself. She can be very, very, thorough when it comes to baths."

That was abundantly clear. Most people these days didn't take baths more than once or twice a year, if that. Not that Ash agreed. He rather liked baths. They were relaxing, and although it was a pain to heat the water he did it regularly when afforded the opportunity. But this woman seemed even more religious about it. Her kids got muddy and the first thing she did was bathe them. And now she was determined to have him be clean as well. But he was not doing anything on that woman's terms.

The water lapped around Ash's chest as he glared up at Ellie. She stared back down at him, her hands on her hips, a mini version of her mother. This was stupid and bothersome. How did one impulsive good deed land him in so much trouble? He could imagine Gear rocking with laughter if he ever heard about this, not that he would if Ash had anything to say about it.

Ellie reached for him but he laid his ears flat, hissing.

"Either you can do it or I can." There was a quiet pause. "I really am sorry. I didn't know Mom was going to… to do that. But to be fair she thinks you're just a cat." Ash continued to ignore her, even as she reached out a finger and scratched behind his ear. It even felt good when Ellie did it.

"I promise to feed you lots at dinner," she offered. Ash looked at her from the corner of his eye as she continued to rub his head. When he didn't pull away Ellie stepped closer and began to scrub his fur clean. At least the water was warm and Ellie was gentle. He allowed her to clean his back, chest, and front legs before she moved to his face, wetting her fingers and smoothing them over his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose.

"I can't quite figure you out," said Ellie as she scratched his ears. He cracked his eyes open, peeking at her. "You're not really a cat, but you react just like one when someone pets you." She slumped onto the table resting her head on her arms. "Just what are you?"

He simply sat there watching her. She smiled and reached out a finger and ran it up the bridge of his nose, scratching between his eyes. He couldn't help but lean into her touch. Did all cats react this way?

"You better finish the rest yourself."

She turned her back to him and with reluctant obedience, he splashed about quickly finishing the job. This was stupid. He'd always bathed in his human form. Finished, he stepped out of the shallow tub and onto the table dripping as he shook his feet irritably. It felt so awkward to be wet as a cat. Ellie turned to him and stifled a giggle. Yes, he knew he looked ridiculous. He felt a chill run up his back and he shook himself trying to get rid of the excess water. She squealed trying to dodge the spray of droplets.

She scooped him up with a cloth and dragged a chair over by the fire. After a preliminary rub down she pulled the cloth off and let him perch on her lap. She stared down as if she was expecting him to do something.

"Aren't you going to lick your fur clean? It's all tangled."

His ears flattened as he stared up at her, his wet tail flicking back and forth and dripping water on the floor. Never once had he succumbed to that particular feline practice. Get hair all over his tongue and smell like his own saliva? Not to mention the hairballs after. No, thank you. If his hair in his human form was clean and tangle-free then when he shifted into his cat form, his fur would be too. He'd never done it the other way around. Ellie frowned.

"I guess not."

She set him on the chair and disappeared into the back room before returning with a wooden comb. Settling him onto her lap again, she continued to rub the moisture from his fur. The fire cracked and popped, the heat radiating toward him as Ellie worked. This was a nuisance. Ellie hung the damp rag on the hearth to dry and picked up the comb. Ash braced, expecting her to pull his fur mercilessly, but at that moment the door opened and the woman came in, toting buckets of water. She shuffled over and dumped one of the buckets into the pot hanging over the fire, leaving the other to the side.

"You got him clean," said the woman bending over them and reaching for Ash. He hissed, crouching lower into Ellie's lap. "Well, he doesn't seem to like me."

"That's because you embarrassed him," said Ellie, smoothing his fur with her fingers.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just a cat."

"He's special," muttered Ellie as her mother moved to cross the room. Ellie resumed her attention to his coat, being surprisingly gentle as she combed out the snarls. It actually felt rather… nice, what with her fingers moving through his fur and the heat from the fire slowly drying him. He allowed himself to relax, stretching out on Ellie's lap as the heat warmed him. This wasn't too bad, doing nothing in front of a fire, just like he wanted.

He woke sometime later, stretching and arching his back as he yawned. He'd been moved to the other room of the house and was nestled on a blanket on one of the three straw mattress beds. Something smelled good and judging by the muted light coming from behind the wooden shutters in the window it was evening. Good, just a few more hours till this tiresome incident was over, but in the meantime he was hungry and Ellie had promised him food.

He leapt from the bed and slunk to the open doorway, peering around the corner into the main room. The woman was bent over the pot in the fire and the boy, Mark, sat on the chair picking debris from a pile of loose sheep's wool. Ellie sat cross-legged in the corner near the fire, twisting some twigs together. He glanced toward the front door but was disappointed to find it closed. There would be no sneaking out.

Being wary of the boy and the woman, Ash snuck towards Ellie keeping close to the edge of the room. The girl had her tongue sticking out her mouth in concentration as her fingers twisted and pinched the supple twigs into a small circle. She hadn't noticed him so he sat on his haunches and meowed, trying to inject impatience into his tone. This was boring and he was hungry.

"Looks like Charcoal is finally awake," said Mark, spotting him. Ellie glanced up and seeing Ash in front of her, grinned. Ash looked in confusion at Mark and then back at Ellie, tilting his head in question.

"Charcoal because you're black," she said, holding out her hand for him. He stayed put, firmly out of her immediate reach.

"I never said you could keep him," said their mother. "Don't go naming him. You'll get attached."

For once, Ash agreed with a woman. Naming him was a bad idea. It led to trouble.

"I know," muttered Ellie. "But he still needed a name for tonight."

"I like cats well enough, but it's just not safe," said the woman, beginning to scoop food from the pot onto dented plates. "We can't afford to draw attention or suspicion and that's exactly what a black cat would do. You can keep him tonight, but tomorrow I'll take him and drop him in the woods."

Ellie sighed and before Ash could move she leaned forward and scooped him into her lap. After a few scratches behind his ears, she returned her attention to her project. He leaned forward trying to get a better look at what she was doing but at that moment the woman announced dinner and Ellie tucked the thing into the pocket of her night dress. Scooping Ash up she took a seat at the table keeping him in her lap. He poked his head over the edge of the table sniffing as he tried to see the food on the plate. The fish from earlier, some potatoes, and carrots all stewed together with a few herbs. It smelled good and the steam rising from the food was inviting.

It had been weeks since he had a hot meal. His last had been with Gear in Germany right before he'd stolen away on a ship coming to England. Ash's stomach rumbled as Ellie drew her plate closer and he looked up at her mewing. She picked out a chunk of fish and held it in her hand under the table. Eagerly he took it from her and even licked her fingers clean. He looked up at her expectantly and so went the rest of the dinner with Ellie slipping him food in her lap.

"I know you're feeding the cat," said her mother with a sigh when Ellie asked for more. "You're just lucky we have extra tonight."

Soon the meal was finished and the children were herded towards bed. Through it all, Ellie kept Ash in her arms, even carrying him to bed with her. Her mother sighed but allowed it. Once the children were situated, the woman returned to the main room to work by the light of the fire. In a few minutes, the boy's soft snores could be heard but Ellie was still awake, once again twisting her twigs. Ash had taken up a place on her pillow watching her impatiently through hooded eyes, waiting for her to fall asleep. At last, Ellie seemed content with the trinket. A small circlet, perhaps a bracelet for her mother. Smiling Ellie picked him up off her pillow and once again held him in her lap rubbing his ears and chin. He was annoyed by her lack of interest in sleep… but at least this felt good. There was something pleasant about the attention she gave him.

"Charcoal," she whispered. He grimaced, his ears flattening. She huffed. "I know it's not your real name, but Mark was going to call you Mudball. I figured Charcoal was better, and it's not like you told me your real name."

He shook his head but waited. This kid was trouble. Naming him was dangerous but at least she hadn't tried to give him anything. That would be worse. No sooner had the thought passed from him than something slipped over his ears and settled around his neck. He glanced down to see the circle of twigs Ellie had been working on around his neck. Dread seeped through his mind like melting ice. No! No, this was not happening. This ignorant girl, she was… He tried to calm himself. She didn't know any better, and it's not like he had warned her. It would be okay. He just needed to get out of here the moment she fell asleep. Nothing would come of it.

"I made this for you," she whispered, continuing to scratch his ears, oblivious to his distress. "It can be a bracelet when you're not a cat." She was quiet for a moment. "I just wanted to thank you for pulling me out of the river. I know you took a risk for me so… Thank you."

He looked up at her. He hadn't intended to save her, but he also hadn't been able to let her drown. She was just lucky he was a sucker for punishment.

"I mean it," she said. "And I promise I'll never tell anyone."

At least he had that consolation. If he had to save her at least she was a child who was willing to keep his secret. She wasn't too bad, just pushy. Still, it could have been a lot worse and she didn't deserve to drown. Reluctantly, he gave her hand a quick lick before leaping to her pillow. She seemed to take the hint and lay down, one of her fingers touching his front paw.

He woke later to a dark, quiet house. The only sounds were the soft breathing and snores of the children. Finally, he could leave. He glanced across the room but was surprised to find the woman's bed still empty. He dropped to the floor and padded to the main room expecting to find her asleep in a chair, but the room was also empty. The only light was from the glowing coals in the hearth. Where was the woman in the middle of the night? Had she left her children alone? He shook himself. It didn't matter. Not his business.

Checking again that the children were deep asleep he shifted from his cat form. He rolled his shoulders with a grunt. Long stretches as a cat always left him stiff. The ship from Germany had been murder. He glanced back at the odd girl in the bed and down at the bracelet of twigs around his wrist. He shook his head. He should leave. His hand was hovering above the latch of the front door when the pot hanging over the fire caught his attention, the smell of the food wafting toward him. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he could almost taste it. Ellie had only fed him enough to fill his cat's stomach and that had been hours ago. He was always hungry. But what about the woman? She could come back at any moment.

He opened the door and peered out into the clearing surrounding the little house. The moon was full and for once the night sky was clear. Everything was still and quiet; no sign of anyone. Even the animals he could smell were quiet. The pot beckoned to him and leaving the door ajar he turned to it. He swung it out of the fireplace and pulled the lid off, trying to be as quiet as possible. His stomach rumbled in anticipation as headless of the steam he fished out half a potato, his fingers burning. He took a bite, reveling in the salty taste. In moments it was gone and his hand was back in the pot, fishing out the other chunks one by one. He really ought to leave, but it tasted so good. Soon all that was left was the oily broth at the bottom. Spying the woman's wooden stirring spoon he started in on that as well.

He was trying to get the last bit out of the pot without scraping when he heard a gasp behind him. He spun, dropping the spoon, and was pinned in place by wide terrified green eyes. The basket fell from the woman's shoulder, spilling its contents of herbs and wool across the floor.

Ash's brain stalled. She'd seen him. Where had she come from? Should he run, push past her, and just disappear into the night? She might take him for a thief that way.

"Mom," said a groggy voice from the back room. Ellie appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Stay back, Ellie!" snapped the woman. Jerking into action she snatched a knife off the table and stood brandishing it at him.

"Who are you?" The woman's voice was a growl, as she edged around the table towards her daughter. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Mom," said Ellie, yawning and taking a few steps forward. "I can't find Charcoal...he's gone."

Ash's heart sank into his boots. That was three of the four conditions. A sorceless wind filled the little house and the displaced air kicked up dirt from the stone floor. The woman backed away coughing. A bright blue light swirled around Ellie's wrist and encircled Ash's neck. The rings of light shrunk gradually around his neck and Ellie's wrist before connecting momentarily and vanishing into thin air. Everything was still for a long, long moment.

"What are you?" asked the woman, her face hidden in shadow. There was a quaver in her voice.

He was in trouble. That's what he was. Trouble. He'd never seen it before, but from what Pride and Envy had described, the little girl had just initiated the unthinkable. If that was true he was stuck.

"It's you," said Ellie, stepping toward him, her eyes wide but confused. She looked down at her wrist. "What… what was…"

"Stay back, Ellie" shouted her mother, raising the knife towards Ash.

Ash stayed put, watching them and feeling like karma had just sat on his chest. Big fat karma. What was the saying, no good deed went unpunished? He hadn't had this much trouble in hundreds of years. Even when the others had shown up and wanted to talk about… Him, it had all just been talk. This… this was trouble on a whole new level. He'd never intended to initiate a contract, ever, but in the past 12 hours, this little girl had flipped everything on its head.

At least the woman now seemed appropriately afraid of him, and no doubt even the girl would be… but Ellie's face showed nothing but confusion and concern. But the concern was not for herself or her mother as he had expected. Ellie was looking at him with concern. He frowned. She had no business being concerned for him. He didn't need it. He didn't deserve it.

"Back away, Ellie," said the woman, never taking her eyes off him.

Ash could hear the boy stirring now and a moment later he appeared in the doorway behind his sister.

"Who's he?" asked Mark, rubbing sleep from his suspicious eyes.

Ash picked the spoon up off the floor and tossed it onto the table before shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked at Ellie. The proverbial cat was out of the bag.

"He's…" began Ellie but she was cut off by her mother.

"Both of you, get back," shouted the woman. "Stay away from it."

"But Mom, he's…"

"I don't care what or who you are," said the woman, her voice cold. "Leave. Leave now and never come near my family again. Stay away from my daughter."

"I can't," said Ash, backing towards the door.

"Get out," screamed the woman.

He winced. So loud. He sighed and backed out the door.

Pride and Envy had said that if a temporary contract was initiated then a tell-tale sign of it would be his inability to go far from his potential eve. He grit his teeth. He didn't want an Eve. Maybe he should simply snatch Ellie and run, but that would lead to a man-hunt, or more likely a witch hunt. Too much trouble, and he didn't want to frighten the girl, although for some reason she seemed to trust him implicitly. But she didn't know what he really was.

"Mom, wait," cried Ellie, rushing forward.

The woman caught Ellie by the elbow before she could reach Ash. "Where are you going?" asked her mother, panicked. The woman glared at Ash. "What spell do you have her under?"

"No spell," he said.

"Mom, he's my cat!"

"He's not your cat," said the woman trying to hold her struggling daughter back with one hand while brandishing the knife in the other.

Ash groaned as he watched the altercation. So noisy. Might as well just see just how far he could get. Maybe the woman would stop screaming or maybe she would scream more. This was all too much noise, too much trouble. All because he didn't let the kid drown. He turned and walked down the path toward the gate but he only made it about ten steps before the ribbon of blue light appeared around his neck again and held him back. Not very far.

He stopped and turned to see Ellie just behind her mother, her arm raised, the blue ribbon also around her wrist. He backed up a step and the child was pulled forward out of the front door and into the night air. The woman grabbed Ellie's shoulder pulling her back a few feet, dragging Ash forward on the other end. The woman's eyes went wide.

"What… What is this? What are you?" she asked, her voice trembling as she gripped her daughter's shoulder. "What have you done to Ellie?"

"I didn't do this," said Ash, already tired of this mess. He rubbed at his neck. He hated the feel of the ribbon. It felt like it was choking him. "Ellie is the one who initiated the contract."

"What are you?" the woman repeated, her voice growing louder despite the quaver.

"I told you already," said Ellie, "He's the cat. He's special."

Might as well end the questions faster. Ash shifted to his cat form and then back again. The woman drew in a sharp breath and drew Ellie closer.

"I knew something was off about your cat," said Mark, who had climbed on the table inside and now had his head out the open window.

"I'm not a cat," said Ash lazily.

"Well you're not a human," accused the woman.

Ash shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"Stay away from my family."

"I can't. I'm bound to Ellie."

"I don't care," said the woman. "Leave now."

"Mom," cried Ellie, breaking free of her mother and rushing toward Ash. But the child's feet became tangled in her night dress and she fell forward, her hands outstretched toward the stone path. Instinctively, Ash flashed forward and caught her before she could hit the ground. He froze, still crouching, holding Ellie. What was that? He didn't remember deciding to move to catch her.

"Ellie," cried the woman. "Let go of her." The knife left the woman's hand and whistled toward Ash, but the woman's aim had been slightly off. Ash raised his hand to block the knife and a moment later pain shot through his forearm, the knife sticking out of it. Behind his arm was Ellie's head. The blood drained from the woman's face.

Ash stood, setting Ellie on her feet before he pulled the blade from his arm. He rolled up his sleeve and watched as his dark blood dripped lazily from the wound. Stepping away from the girl, Ash tossed the knife at the woman's feet.

"Mom," said Ellie, her voice more calm than any child had a right to be in this situation. "It's okay Mom, he's not going to hurt me."

"How… how can you know that?"

"Well I won't be throwing any knives around," said Ash blandly as he rolled his sleeve back down. The blood was going to stain the cloth and now he had another hole in his clothes to repair. So bothersome. Ellie reached out and took hold of his other sleeve, catching him off guard.

"If he were going to hurt me he wouldn't have saved me from the river," said Ellie.

"The river?" asked Mark from the window.

Ellie nodded. "The truth is, I didn't pull the cat out of the river." She turned to look up at him, her blue eyes soft. "I fell in trying to reach some mushrooms. He's the one who pulled me out of the river. He saved me."

"I knew you were lying," said Mark, pointing at his sister triumphantly, his expression sheepish.

"Mom," said Ellie, going to stand in front of her mother. The woman looked down at her daughter, her shoulders slumping as if a wave of exhaustion had washed over her. She drew Ellie into her embrace. It was quiet for several heartbeats before she released Ellie.

"Mom," said Ellie looking back at Ash. "I would have drowned if he hadn't pulled me out. He didn't have to… and he clearly has more reason than us to hide. He knew he was risking his own discovery but he still took my hand. He pulled me out."

"Rather, I fell in pulling you out," said Ash, stuffing his hands in his pockets again.

"But why?" asked the woman, looking at Ash with uncertain eyes.

Ash just shrugged. "Dunno. Perhaps the same reason you believe your daughter would have tried to save a drowning kitten."

"You still haven't told us what or who you are," said Mark, pragmatically.

"And what does it mean that Ellie is bound to you?" asked the woman.

"I'm bound to her," corrected Ash.

"Is there a difference?" asked Mark, frowning.

"Yes," said Ash.

"But what are you?" pressed the boy.

Ash sighed. "A vampire."

Apparently, the woman's face could grow paler.

"What's a vampire?" asked Mark.

"A monster," said Ash simply.

"A blood drinker," said that woman at the same moment.

Ash glanced at her. "Have you seen another vampire?"

"Once, a long time ago," she said, her eyes searching his face, for what he didn't know. Some shred of his lost humanity. She wouldn't find it.

"So you drink people's blood," asked Mark.

"I prefer tea," said Ash, folding his arms over his chest. "Blood… blood is troublesome."

"What do you mean you're bound to me?" asked Ellie.

Ash sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I never wanted to have to explain this to anyone." Ellie just waited, staring up at him. "What a pain. Your mother is probably familiar with the type of vampire known as a subclass."

"But if there is a subclass, then what are they a subclass to?" asked Mark, leaning further out the window.

"To one like me. A servamp."

"Servamp?" asked Ellie.

"Servant vampire, bound to follow the command of our eve if it's contracted to one."

"Am I your eve?" asked the girl.

"Thankfully no, although you could be."

"Could be?" asked the woman.

"As far as I understand it, Ellie has somehow managed to fulfill the first three of four requirements to form a permanent bond. Currently, the bond is only temporary."

"As far as you understand?" prompted Mark.

Ash sighed and looked at the full moon. Was Gear having as much trouble as he was tonight? Probably not. Gear didn't tend to care much for things like arbitrary morality as he called it. He did what he wanted, when he wanted with little regard for those around him. Not that he was vindictive… rather, just indifferent. Sometimes it would be easier to think like that.

"I've never contracted with an eve," said Ash at last. "I never wanted to, unlike the others."

"There are others like you?" asked the woman.

He nodded. "Six, including myself."

"And you all create the subclasses?" asked Mark.

"Some of the others, though I can't speak for them all."

"Do you have subclasses?" asked Ellie looking up at him. He shook his head.

"What are the conditions for the contract," asked the woman.

"Ellie named me, and gave me a gift," he said, raising his wrist where Ellie's bracelet hung. "And finally, she called my name while I was in this form. This formed the temporary contract."

"Temporary?"

"24 hours to be exact, at least as far as I know."

"And the final requirement yet to be met?"

"Never to be met as far as I'm concerned," said Ash, scratching at his cheek and looking away. "To drink her blood."

"Why are you even here then?" asked the woman.

"Because after I pulled Ellie from the river she took a fancy to me. She saw me shift forms. I didn't want to expose myself in front of the boy so I stayed in my cat form, but Ellie refused to let me go. I didn't want to risk drawing her blood as I escaped. That would been… risky. I had hoped to slip away while she slept. Also, Ellie offered me food."

"So is that why you emptied the cooking pot," asked Mark, waving the large wooden spoon.

Ash shrugged. "I was hungry."

"But don't you only drink blood?" asked the boy.

"Obviously not."

"Don't you need to drink some blood to sustain yourself?" pressed the woman.

"No," said Ash. The woman looked confused. He sighed. "I may not be as powerful without it, I may not heal as quickly without it, but I don't need it. I don't need strength. I can't die, so it doesn't matter."

"Never ever?" asked Ellie, peering up at him. He shook his head. Ellie frowned.

"Incredible," said Mark.

"Lonely," said the woman quietly. Ash glanced at her, but she looked away.

"So you have to stay for at least a day more?" asked Mark.

"I am required to remain close to Ellie until the contract lapses."

"So do you have to do what I say for the next day?" asked Ellie, a devilish glint in her eyes.

He swallowed his immediate and more truthful answer that he was unsure. If things were to quiet down, the mother would need reassurance. And he wanted things quiet. This was all exhausting and he wanted to go back to sleep. Preferably on Ellie's pillow and not the floor.

"Give me a command and see for yourself."

"Can you do a backflip?" asked Mark.

"It must be a command from Ellie," said Ash lazily.

"Charcoal, do a backflip," said Ellie. He grimaced at the name but felt a part of himself preparing to flip. A small part of himself, not very strong. He waited, pushing back on it till the compulsion passed. Apparently, he could resist Ellie's commands while the contract was only temporary. Still… he leapt, flipping backward and landing neatly on his feet, his hands still in his pockets. Ellie grinned. The women seemed to relax somewhat.

"Turn into a cat," she said. He shifted shapes and sat looking up at her. "Come here," she said, crouching and holding out her hands for him. He walked forward and leapt into her arms.

"Does that answer your question," he asked, as she rubbed his ears.

She blinked and looked down at him. "You could talk as a cat this whole time?" she asked, her brows pinched together in a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

"I was pretending to be a cat," he said through a yawn. "Let's go back to bed. I'm tired."

"Wait," said the woman, stopping them. Ellie paused and the woman took Ash from her daughter.

"Don't flip me over," he warned, his ears flat to his head. "Once was once too many."

The woman's cheeks pinked slightly as she processed his words.

"I told you, you embarrassed him," whispered Ellie mischievously. There was snickering from the window.

"I apologize for that," said the woman, her ears red. Ash didn't say anything, his tail swishing. "And… and thank you for.. for saving Ellie today. You could have looked the other way, but you didn't. Thank you."

"I'm too tired to deal with this," he said, looking away. All this new stuff, these new feelings, they were too exhausting. He needed to convince the mother and son to keep his secret before he left. But that took too much thought right now.

"I… I also apologize for your arm," said the woman.

"I'm a vampire, can't die, remember. Just don't throw any more knives."

"Can we tend to it?"

"Not in any meaningful way."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a vampire. Vampires heal faster with blood."

"Oh," said the woman, looking away. It was quiet for a moment.

"Do we have to go back to bed?" asked Mark, hanging out the window and into the moonlight. Ellie yawned.

"Yes," said their mother, seemingly relieved with the change of subject.

She handed Ash back to Ellie and they all tramped back inside. The woman was reluctant to let Ellie take him back to her bed, but as Ellie pointed out, he was a cat, he had to do what Ellie told him, and they couldn't be too far apart. At last, and still uneasy, the woman agreed, presuming Ash remained in his cat form for the night. Soon the children were tucked back in bed and the woman had retired to her bed across the room. For a long time she sat, watching him, but eventually, the woman's exhaustion caught up with her.

"Charcoal," came Ellie's whisper breaking the quiet. He cracked an eye open to peer into her face. "Can I still pet you even if you're not really a cat?"

Ash hesitated. "Do what you want," he said at last.

She reached out a hand and scratched his head. He surprised himself by leaning into her touch. That buzz started in his chest again and he found it oddly soothing.

"Charcoal?"

"Yes?" he said hazily.

"You don't really have to do what I say, do you." By her tone, he knew she wasn't just guessing.

He opened both eyes, watching her. She was too smart for her own good. He laid his head down pretending to sleep.

"Hey," she said, poking him. "Answer me."

Ash couldn't help but grin at the girl's unintended command. He waited till the impulse to answer faded. Only then did he whisper, "No."