First Dance

At the first formal party Elizabeth attended as an adult, a few weeks after her sixteenth birthday, she saw the man again. She almost didn't recognize him. It wasn't until he stepped up to her and asked her to dance, and she looked into those dark, bright eyes, that she remembered the dazzling effect he had had on her in her weakened state. During the convalescence, she had thought of him constantly, but it had been almost a year since the memory had risen to consciousness. When he took her hand and led her into a dance, though, it all rushed back, the passionate curiosity, the vibrancy she felt in his presence - and nowhere else.

He flashed her a smile as they whirled through the motions of the dance, and a line from a childhood story came to her mind unbidden - "My, what sharp teeth you have... the better to eat you with, my dear." Then the dance came to an end, and he led her to a group of two men and a woman. He introduced her to each of them. The man who he introduced last was Sylvian, Lord Dermott. He was the younger brother of a Baron, and though he had not inherited the title, he would be quite wealthy, as his mother's portion had been settled on him at her passing. Dermott was in his late thirties, and ready to settle down. As the man had intended - and somehow, Elizabeth had still not caught his name - Dermott took note of Elizabeth's fresh beauty, proper manners, and inner fire. Yes, she would make both a suitable wife and a beddable one. And it was odd, because somehow Elizabeth sensed this thought on Dermott's part... as though he were telling her of it? But how could that be? It made her uncomfortable, yet, somehow... it still fascinated her.

She danced the next dance with Dermott, then the nameless man took her back to her parents. Finally she discovered a name for him, though she knew once again by this mysterious manner, that it was not his real name. "Your daughter reflects so brightly on your family," he said to Chitralekha, who smiled ambiguously. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alonzo Del Volpe." For such a foreign name, he had no discernable accent; he sounded as English as anyone, though perhaps more cosmopolitan than most, Elizabeth thought. Her mother looked charmed, holding out her hand delicately to Del Volpe. "I am Mrs. Edward Feildric, and this is my daughter Elizabeth," replied Chitralekha. "Mrs. Feildric, Miss Feildric," he said, "it is my distinct pleasure to make both your acquaintances." He gave no indication now of having met Elizabeth before, but she was not surprised. That same inner voice had told her he would not.

She danced with others, then again with Dermott, then finally again with Del Volpe. Elizabeth got up the nerve to ask the question aloud that she could not stop thinking - a question that seemed ludicrous on the face of things, yet inwardly seemed to be the only right thing to say. "What are you?" she breathed as they danced.

His answer would have stopped her in her tracks had he not been leading. As it was, they did not even falter; his strong arms led her through the steps perfectly. He spoke it so quietly that no one around could have heard it. "I am a killer, dear - as are you." She felt out of breath, exhilarated with a tremor of fear, and the voice inside told her, "All will be well, for all will be as I will it." She felt somehow this should not be as reassuring as it felt.