Harlon emerged from the shadows as Lyra completed her feed. Blood soaked her face and splats lay strewn across her skin and clothing. She collected her crossbow and secured it to her back.
‘We got ourselves a predator in you, Missy,’ Harlon praised with a wink. ‘Let Old Harlon get you back to your cabin and run you a bath.’
‘Where’s Kane?’ Lyra asked, fearing that he would abandon her again.
‘The boy’s goin’ clearin’ that up,’ Harlon muttered, waving a hand at the corpse. ‘Come.’

Lyra walked next to Harlon through the woods. The sound of bats flapping filled her ears. She could sense badgers shifting in their dens and foxes scurrying in the distant undergrowth. The moon appeared clearer and closer than ever, and the music of the lake’s tide played as if speaking to her.
‘It’s so peaceful here,’ Lyra observed.
‘Yep,’ Harlon agreed, ‘it is that.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Missy, you need a bath, then tomorrow Old Harlon’s taking you on a day trip.’ The old man took her hand. ‘Don’t be worrying, Missy, he ain’t goin’ leavin’ you.’ Lyra’s lip curled as if trying to force a smile.
‘He did though, and his mood changes.’
‘What do you expect? You’re the first person he’s ever loved.’ Lyra stopped dead, but Harlon continued talking. ‘He just don’t know how to deal with it is all.’ The old man looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s the hold-up for?’

‘You said he loves me,’ Lyra replied, her stomach knotting as she spoke.
‘Well, course he loves ya, he ain’t hidden it none,’ Harlon stated nonchalantly. Then he noted the perplexed look on Lyra’s face. ‘Why would you think he don’t?’
‘He has never said he loves me, he is fickle, he pushed me away.’ Harlon sauntered over to Lyra and gripped her wrist.
‘He loves ya, Missy,’ he confirmed, giving her arm a tug so that she started walking again. ‘He told ya why he did what he did. He never thought no one would love him back.’
‘When did he decide he loved me then?’ Lyra asked.
‘First night you moved in, he told me he sat with you whilst you slept.’ Harlon sighed. ‘But the boy got called away, he wanted to spend all night with ya.’ Lyra imagined the shock that she would have got had she woken up to see Kane sitting next to her.

At length, they reached Lyra’s cabin, and the old man ran her a bath. Lyra stripped off in the bathroom and passed her bloodied clothes through the door to Harlon before stepping into the warm water. Every drop created a different sensation as it clung around her body. She sank her head under the surface, lying there for some time before rising and washing thoroughly with herbal rinse Harlon had made her from witch hazel and aloe vera. Once cleansed, Lyra dried herself and combed her newly coloured hair. She gazed in the mirror; this was who she was destined to be.

Lyra wrapped a towel around her and switched off the light before opening the door. The cabin was in darkness.
‘Harlon,’ she called. ‘Are you in here?’ No one answered. She padded through the front room. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and a surreal night vision emerged. The front door was shut, but the shutters had been opened for her, letting in the light of the moon. On the table sat a glass filled to the brim with a thick red fluid. Lyra wandered over to it and sniffed at it. Kane’s scent wafted from the liquid, and she drank it without hesitation.

‘Harlon, are you still here?’ Lyra repeated. Again, no one answered. She suspected that he had gone to his basement to store their food and sauntered to her bedroom. The door stood ajar. Lyra pushed it listlessly, worn from her exertions and the final stage of her change. At least, she reasoned, this stage is not as painful as the first. She stretched and dropped the towel to the floor, turning to her bed. A smile crept across her lips as she saw Kane lying under the duvet waiting for her, his clothes left in a heap on the floor.

‘Kane,’ Lyra whispered, still fearing that he would abandon her. Without a word, Kane pulled back the duvet so that she could climb in next to him. Lyra lay beside her Immortalis as instructed. Kane covered her and drew her body into his chest. ‘I was worried, I thought I had disappointed you somehow,’ she whispered. Kane did not respond. ‘I thought that…’ His finger covered her mouth and he eased her onto her back. He moved delicately between her legs and kissed her lips as he gently eased himself inside of her. Lyra winced, still sore from the previous night’s exertions. Kane moved against her with a tenderness that she had not experienced. His body lay easily against hers, and each kiss was more affectionate than the last. Her desire grew gradually as he stroked her curves. Her knees raised and parted for him, and he trailed her entrance and clit with an uncharacteristic passion.

Kane’s lips brushed against her cheek and grazed her neck, then returned to her mouth. With little force and only the suggestion of the pressure of her hand, Lyra rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She stretched her legs down over his and moved on him with equal sensitivity. She could feel him aching inside of her and increased the pressure, taking him deeper until both reached a gentle but powerful climax.

Lyra slid off Kane and rested her head on his chest.
‘Did I disappoint you, Kane?’ she whispered.
Never, he reassured her. I saw a mortal become a goddess tonight. Lyra smiled as his breast heaved under her, not with his usual rage, but with something else.
‘Is something wrong, Kane?’ Lyra muttered. The creature shook his head and rested a hand in her hair.
Everything is as it should be, he communicated cryptically. Lyra sighed; something was different. His usual aggression, the aggression that aroused her so, had abated. Before Lyra had time to probe further, Kane took her in his arms and held her with an impassioned strength. Lyra curled her hands about his neck. I do know what love is, Lyra, he confessed. You were right. I didn’t know what love was, but I do now. Lyra sucked in a breath, her eyelashes lowered over her eyes and she trembled.
‘I know what love is because I love you and have loved you since I first saw you.’ His words hung in the air.
‘I love you, Kane, but you know that. You heard every word that I said to you this morning.’ She took a breath. ‘That’s why I was terrified that I would never see you again.’
‘I’ll never let you go, never,’ Kane promised.
‘Do you still want to make me hurt?’ she asked precociously.
‘The beast in me will always want to feed on your suffering. I can’t change that,’ the monster assured her. ‘But I will never let you go again.’ Lyra sighed with delight and allowed herself to sleep in his protective arms.

Kane was showing Lyra the best methods for chopping wood when Harlon arrived the following morning.
‘It’s time,’ the old man called over the sound of the axe. Lyra smashed the axe into a log and brushed herself down.
‘Are you coming with us, Kane?’ The masked creature shook his head.
‘The boy don’t go round other people now, does he, Missy?’ Harlon stated more than asked. ‘Don’t you worry, you won’t be gone long. It’s just out of town, then you be back.’ Lyra took Kane’s gloved hands in her own and something unspoken passed between them. She then climbed into Harlon’s jeep that had been ticking over. She wondered how many vehicles he had collected over the years, as the rear of his cabin was like an old scrapyard.

Harlon turned on the beach, and though he made small talk on the journey, he said nothing about their destination. They travelled to Forest Green and out the back end into a hilly wilderness saturated in forestry. Eventually, the old man turned onto a rugged trail that caused the jeep to bounce through the forest. At the latter end of the trail, the path widened into a misty clearing. Two massive iron gates stood proud in the middle of a high cobbled wall. Harlon stopped the vehicle and climbed out. He pressed a button on an old intercom and simply said his name before returning to the jeep. The gates creaked open and he drove through.

The drive led to a hideously overstated building; a mansion Gothic in style, with turrets towering over the three floors and attic windows. Harlon stopped the vehicle at the bottom of the stone steps that led up to the entrance; two giant oak doors that formed an arch. Harlon grasped one of the black gargoyles that served as knockers and pounded once, then waited.

Eventually, a young plain woman with red, wavy hair, dressed in a dated nurse’s uniform, answered.
‘Dr Farrell, please,’ Harlon stated simply. The woman glared at Lyra. ‘She’s here with me,’ Harlon stated simply. The woman nodded, and Lyra and Harlon followed her up a sprawling staircase and veered left in the crimson-painted and carpeted corridor at the top. Lamps hung on the walls between closed doors, lighting the dim passage. The nurse knocked on the third door to the right.

A bespectacled, stout young man with black hair and a tightly trimmed beard poked his head out, and the nurse hurried away.
‘I’ve come to see…’ Harlon began.
‘Nicolas,’ interrupted the doctor nervously as he squeezed through the confines of the gap he had made in the door. ‘Of course.’ He closed the door behind him. ‘Come!’ he gestured. Lyra and Harlon followed him back past the staircase and to the door at the very end of the corridor. The doctor knocked twice and used his keys to unlock the door, which Lyra found a little odd. ‘Let yourself out when you have finished,’ he added, making the whole scenario even more bizarre, as he clearly had no urgency to lock the door on their departure. The doctor returned to his office at great speed without looking back.

Harlon waited until Farrell was out of sight before opening the door. The room was simply laid out; white walls, a bed dressed in white sheets and a white cupboard with a white door beside it, which Lyra presumed led to the bathroom. On the bed sat a distinguished-looking man with short, black hair exhibiting a few silver flecks and emerald eyes that seemed to glow. His body was clad in white and seemed to blend in with the room.

The man rose as Harlon spoke.
‘This is Lyra. Lyra, this is Nicolas.’ Nicolas bowed his head and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it. Nicolas waved his hands at two white kitchen chairs that sat out of place by the window. Harlon sat, and Lyra followed his example.
‘You did well, Lyra,’ Nicolas began. ‘Kane must be very proud of you. I trust the specimen was challenging enough?’
‘He was.’ Lyra looked around her at Nicolas’s cage. Nicolas watched her gaze and, as if reading her thoughts, replied.
‘Surely you know by now that all is not as it appears.’ He rested his hands elegantly on his knees as he spoke. ‘Very little of what we experience as mortals represents the truth.’ He tilted his head and awaited a reply.

After an awkward pause, Lyra asked,
‘Is this a sanatorium? Are you a patient?’ Nicolas laughed wholeheartedly.
‘The words of a mortal, but yes, I suppose this is a sanatorium of sorts. We house the criminally insane and the evils of the mortal world. People who can simply disappear and no one looks too hard for them. But,’ Nicolas stated, leaning forward, ‘I am not a patient, for if I was, I would not have been able to deliver that fine specimen yesterday, now would I?’ Lyra sighed.
‘Why the pretence, why pretend to be a prisoner?’
‘Firstly, we must be invisible to the world. To run an institute like this, I wear the cloak of invisibility by hiring a professional staff. Some of whom are aware of the true situation, and others are not so enlightened.’ Nicolas’s face stretched into a cruel smile. ‘And secondly, I have my own personal needs and desires to sate, just as Kane has his. A partiality, you might call it, for haunting my victims prior to the kill. This gloomy castle makes that perfectly feasible and largely undetectable.’ His lip curled into a snarl, the same look that she had seen in Kane at the height of his bloodlust.