db: You're not late db, I was early and you're definitely in time to play the speculation game. There is a lot to point to the fact that Tara might be a vampire, although you're very right that the meeting in the park being during the day. I'm just doing my best to confuse everyone and keep the intrigue levels up! Thanks very much and keep that 8 ball handy!

CHAPTER FIVE

21th December 1777

For these past few weeks since Edward’s proposal I have thought of nought all besides W. Despite the few brief words we actually spoke at Sir John’s party some months past, I clearly felt that our mutual passion was neither forgotten nor diminished. Without words between us, I have laboured and suffered hoping and praying that W had garnered that same impression. Throughout boredom fraught nights at home with my parents and attending parties on Edward’s arm I have kept my suffering to myself. While I have made Edward swear to hold off announcement of any possible engagement I can hear everyone whispering about us. I can see the whole pack of them now, matrons with their chins wagging incessantly as they gossip about matters that are none of their affair! How I hate them so!

I cannot keep denying Edward his answer; soon even he will grow tired of my apparent indecision and go directly to my father. I shall then have no say in the matter of my own marriage and I will be forever wed to a man whom I do not love.

I was fearfully depressed until last night when it was made evident that I had not suffered alone throughout this time. W felt the separation and distance as keenly as I and she had been dying to see me! All this and more, much, much more I learnt last night. What a glorious night it was!

Edward’s parents hosted a sumptuous Christmas party for the neighbouring families of note. While I was compelled to go by virtue of my relationship with their son, I attended without quarrel for I knew full well that an invitation would also have been extended to the Van Helsings. I know it sounds dreadful of me to say but my night only improved when Edward came down with a head cold and was compelled to remain in bed throughout the festivities. I was left unattended to enjoy the pleasures that the night had to offer.

I was making the rounds with my father, fending off questions and comments regarding my impending engagement when I sensed a ripple pass throughout the entire company gathered in the Walsh’s Grand Hall. I looked towards the entrance and my heart soared when she walked in on Abraham’s arm. Every young lady (and many a matron and spinster too) swooned at the sight of the dashing Captain Van Helsing, while eligible bachelors held their breath when faced with the sight of his sister. Her green gown made every other woman in the room appear pale and washed out in comparison. It was perfectly tailored to show off her tiny waist and creamy shoulders, with barely a hint of her modest cleavage showing. Those gorgeous red locks that I loved so were piled in curls atop her head, with more cascading down over her neck. I instantly felt a hot surge of jealousy at the thought of so many eyes upon her but it was all too quickly dispelled when I saw her eyes roaming the crowd, passing straight over every gaze in the room that was feasting upon her...until she came to mine.

As a small smile curled the corner of her lips I instantly felt vulnerable, wondering if I had chosen the right gown or coiffure. I saw her turn her head slightly to whisper something in Abraham’s ear. The smile and knowing glance that Abraham then cast in my direction confused me slightly. It seemed as though he knew exactly what I was thinking about his sister. However, confusion was replaced by rapture a second later as I saw W leave her brother’s side and begin to thread her way through the crowd. She ignored all attempts at conversation and invitations to dance as she made her way towards me, her gaze never once leaving mine. When she finally reached me her first movement was to reach out and brush her fingertips against my wrist. I almost swooned into her arms even as she spoke in a clear voice words which speak in my ear still,

“Miss Maclay, would you take a turn about the room with me?”

My own voice was far from composed and my damnable stutter caused me to sound like a blundering idiot but I managed to convey my agreement. Then she linked her arm through mine and I was rendered incapable of speech for at least a minute. The feel of her smooth skin upon my own and the close proximity of her body were almost too much for me to bear. My heart was racing wildly despite the sedate pace at which we threaded our way through the crowded room. She must have noticed my discomfort as she commented on my flushed cheeks. I lifted one palm and indeed found it extremely hot to the touch. Her suggestion that we retire to a secluded corner somewhere was a fine one and as we exited the hall I felt a weight lift from my shoulders…although my heart did not cease its wild palpitations.

Even the small rooms adjacent to the hall were far too crowded for our liking, although only containing at the most half a dozen people. Knowing the Walsh house as well as you might expect, it was I who led W to a well-hidden place I remembered from a childhood spent in the company of Edward and his siblings. At the time I did not know why I was choosing such a secluded location for our meeting but in hindsight I now know full well that I wanted to be alone with W, away from prying eyes and gossiping tongues.

I felt a delicious shiver run down my spine as I led W by the hand into the space beneath the ground floor stairs, a tiny alcove really with barely enough room for two adults to stand. A smile crossed her face as soon as she realised my intent and in moments I was no longer the instigator. W pressed me into the space until my back was against the wall and we were both in complete shadow. We found ourselves alone together for the first time since that windswept day in the stable, the difference being the increased depth of our feelings for one another.

My legs felt as if they had no bones in them and it was only the weight of her body which kept me from falling, although she was pressed so close and so tightly against my body that falling was nigh impossible. I could only see the outline of her face and her sparkling eyes in the darkness but my senses were heightened in all other respects. I could feel her heart matching mine beat for beat, our combined breath mingling in what little air there was between us and the sweat coating our joined palms.

While I do not claim to remember the words W spoke with complete accuracy, I nevertheless remember her words as well as I remember everything that happened tonight…with crystal clarity.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Maclay?” she whispered breathlessly as I felt the hand that was not enclosed in my own cup one of my burning cheeks.

“I-I do believe Miss Van Helsing…that you have rendered me incapable of both speech and movement,” was my equally breathless reply as I nuzzled against the warm hand which held my cheek.

“Then allow me to do the moving,” was W’s brief reply before, a mere moment later, her lips found my own in the darkness.

I had dreamed of that moment ever since our first meeting and my hunger was insatiable, what began as a slow caress quickly moved to something fierce and urgent. While at the back of my mind I was aware of the cosmetics on my face and the effect of sweaty palms on ball gowns, I cared about neither as I wrapped both my arms around her waist to keep her close. She kept one hand on my face, caressing both cheek and neck while the other was pressed against my hip.

The kiss that day in the stable seemed passionless and chaste compared to what took place beneath the stairs. The heat rises in my cheeks even now when I think about her tongue dancing in my mouth, probing deeply and dancing with my own. I think about the way she tasted, so sweet and yet rich at the same time and I wish I were still there. It was at that time, in the muddled fog that was my mind, that I realised she yearned as much for me as I had for her. It was written clearly in the manner in which she pressed forward into my body, the delightful sounds which issued from the back of her throat and her hand at my hip, possessive and firm. Oh, I was hers without a doubt; I swore I would never belong to Edward Walsh.

I lost all sense of time so when our lips finally did part and we were both even more breathless, if that were possible, I had no knowledge of just how much time had passed. All I knew was that I did not want it to end. My whole body was aflame in a manner I could not explain.

“I need you, Tara,” she hissed into my ear as she trailed delicate kisses upon my neck and jaw, “Oh, by the heavens I need you so badly!”

I was speechless once again but even if I could speak I did not understand what she wanted from me. She needed me but I was right in front of her, with her in every sense of the word as I understood it. As my mind reeled, she continued to trail her mouth over my skin. Her lips moved over my chin and, as I tilted my head back, down my throat. My lips parted and my eyes closed as she continued downwards over my shoulder blades and to the tops of my breasts which were laid bare by the gown I had chosen. I heard a groan escape my lips as she cupped one breast, fingers lighting brushing the nipple. Even through the fabric I felt a jolt of pleasure that I had never thought possible to experience.

“I wish I could taste you further,” she whispered, her voice muffled for her face was pressed into my cleavage, “I cannot bear it…I need you so.”

As I felt her hand move to tug my skirts upwards, there was a mighty thud on the stairs above our heads. We both froze instantly as heavy feet sounded on the wooden stairs scant inches from us. We heard excited male voices but I could not make any words out over the blood pounding in my ears. Whoever it was passed down the stairs and continued directly ahead, away from us.

Even after the interruption, I would have spent the entire evening in that tiny space beneath the stairs but W and I both knew we had appearances to maintain. I was expected to dance with Edward’s father and there were no doubt scores of men clamouring to dance with W. Our parting at that moment came with great reluctance for we both knew that we would be separated and forced to mingle. It was our duty…o curse that dreaded word!

With one last parting kiss and a desperate smoothing of our crinkled gowns, we proceeded to grace the assembled company with our presence. While I thus caught only glimpses of W or conversed with her in the company of others, she appeared radiant and confident. Never have I seen a young lady who was in more favour than my beloved W, without a doubt she was the belle of the party. Only at the end of the night, when Abraham moved to escort her back to their carriage did she squeeze my fingers once. There were unshed tears in her eyes. I knew exactly why she was crying, I felt the same immense pang of loss at parting that she did.

It is near midnight as I write these words and still I can remember the silky sweetness of her lips on mine. As I hear her pleading in my ear still, I feel a fierce heat burn between my thighs and I realise exactly where it was that she needed me, for I need her there too…

~~~~~~

Willow knew that something was not right as soon as she wandered into work that morning at her usual time of eight am. For one thing, Faith was already at work, which was a rare occurrence indeed, and there was a small crowd gathered around the entrance to her office. Willow found herself breaking into a run for the last stretch; the thought of people searching through her work was terrifying to say the least. Not to mention the little matter of the portrait tucked inside A Treatise on Witchcraft that could raise any number of awkward questions.

However, Willow’s concerns for her own affairs were forgotten when she reached the door and peered in. She found Myles seated on her chair, next to a physician who had just finished binding a bulky bandage around his head. Both Croft and Faith were also nearby, Croft appearing uncomfortable as though she had been standing for some time on her bad leg and Faith leaning against her Greek History books with her elbow leaning heavily on a hundred year old copy of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives. She saw Willow glare and quickly straightened, removing the offending elbow from the bookshelf.

“Myles, are you okay?” Willow moved to stand next to Giles who was just inside the doorway.

Myles’s face was almost as white as the bandage that covered his hair but he nodded, “Just a wee knock tis all.”

“I recommend retiring to bed as soon as possible,” the physician commented before excusing himself to leave the department staff to get the night’s happenings out of Myles.

“Someone broke into the department yesterday evening,” Faith commented coldly, “Myles disturbed the bastard and the poor fellow was hit over the head for his troubles.”

“Well…” Myles began awkwardly, “I don’t think I was hit as such…it was more like the chair hitting the back of my head…”

“See, the brave young man has a concussion,” Faith crossed the floor to deposit a gentle kiss on Myles’ cheek, “It looked as though he’d tried to fight off the intruder, we found one of my swords lying next to him.”

In seconds Myles’ pallor had been overcome by the spread of scarlet rising up over his cheeks. He ducked his head and fidgeted with the cuff of his jacket as he felt all eyes in the room on him.

“Giles said it was alright to stay behind, I was just finishing up with the swords when all the lights went out, I thought it was the caretaker but…” Myles began.

“I interviewed him this morning,” Lara interrupted, “He’d already finished for the night at the time Myles remembered them going out.”

Myles nodded, his pallor returned, “I had the beamlight with me…”

Giles let out a discreet cough at the mention of the ‘borrowed’ light before Myles continued.

Myles allowed himself an awkward guilty smile, “So I decided to take a look…there’s not much to say really, I heard a noise outside the workroom and thought it came from in here…when I came to investigate, there was no one here. Then I turned around and then she rushed at me…her face, that’s the last thing I remember.”

“She?” Faith asked with surprise clearly registering in her voice, “Myles, this is the first time you’ve suggested it was a woman…are you quite sure?”

Myles nodded enthusiastically, “It was definitely a woman…pale skin, long blonde hair around her face and the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen…very pretty, in a scary way.”

As Myles spoke, the blood had drained from Willow’s own face. He couldn’t be talking about the same woman. She crossed the floor and hunkered down by her desk, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on her as she drew a small object out of her bottom drawer. When she rose to her feet she kept it tucked close against her body.

“Will, are you alright?” Faith asked quietly, before her voice became distinctly suspicious, “Do you have something to add?”

“Ignore me, I just need to develop this film, I had a thought…” Willow began, but under the combined weight of all the stares in the room she quickly fled, clutching the camera to her chest.

Once safely shut into the department’s darkroom, Willow allowed herself a moment to run all that Myles had said through her head. The fact that his brief description had fitted the woman she had seen in the park, and again in the warehouse could not be just a coincidence. Although there were undoubtedly many women with blue eyes and pale hair, Willow knew there was just one in particular who seemed to have a habit of appearing at odd moments. As she moved to develop the film in the camera, she could not help but mull over everything in her head. She knew there were connections to be made between the strange goings on and the woman, but the fact that she did not have the information to do so was eating away at her. The solution would be to go straight to the source, but she knew nothing about the woman, who she was, where she lived…only that she desperately wanted to talk to her.

Almost half an hour later, a little high from the chemicals she had inhaled, Willow drew the photograph out of the solution in the tray in front of her. Even as it had developed, she had noticed something odd at the centre of the photo. Carefully pegging it on the line above her, she studied it closely. In the centre where the blonde woman should have been standing, where she was standing on the day Willow had taken the photograph…there was nothing. Nothing was not exactly the right word, there were trees, grass, the stream bank and several blurry people in the background but none of that really mattered. There was no woman.

Willow continued to stare at the photograph of the park until she realised that no amount of staring was going to insert her in there. While it may very well have been possible for her to move the camera and miss the woman altogether in the awkward manner in which she had shot the photo, Willow knew that wasn’t the case. She remembered exactly where the woman had been standing, and that very spot was at the centre of the photo.

As she stumbled out of the darkroom, Willow tried to force down the inevitable conclusion. She was a demon researcher, one of the foremost demon authorities in the entire word to be precise and she knew exactly which kind of demon was not at all photogenic. Then there was the paleness of course…everything seemed to add up except for the fact that both times she had seen her had been the middle of the day. Willow didn’t know whether to be excited at the thought of being able to write a groundbreaking paper discussing vampires who could walk during the day, or to be absolutely horrified that she had fallen in love with one.

When Faith caught up with her in the corridor a moment later, she was fighting to restore some sense of order to her thoughts.

“Who did you think would be in the picture, Will?”

“Ah, no one…it was just a thought,” Willow mumbled, I’m in love with a bloody vampire! What if Faith found out? Oh god, don’t let Faith find out…don’t let Faith find out!, “Um, Faith, I’m going to do an inventory of my office, do tell me if you find any further information won’t you?”

“Certainly, but…” Faith clearly wanted to discuss further but Willow was already making her way back down the hall at a cracking pace.

~~~~~~

Willow saw Faith again that afternoon, after spending a few tortured hours trying to work out if anything were missing from her office and desperately trying to forget about the awful state of affairs she found herself in. Given the state of disorganisation that was her filing system, it had not been a pleasurable experience and she was hot and flustered…and most unsuccessful in her strive to forget.

“Did you find anything missing?” was Faith’s immediate question as she walked into Willow’s office and found her seated on the floor with her shirtsleeves rolled past her elbows.

“Do you think I know exactly what I had to start with?” Willow threw up her hands in exasperation, “The only thing that I can even think might be missing is that diary you brought back from Eastern Europe…but then again, Myles could’ve taken it. He did have his beady eyes on it yesterday, and I can’t ask because Lara sent him home.”

“Mmhmm,” Faith nodded thoughtfully, “And it did have naughty bits in it after all.”

Willow glanced up at Faith, “I thought you told Myles yesterday that it didn’t…”

“I lied to reduce the likelihood of him ‘borrowing’ it,” Faith shrugged, “Although in hindsight it might not have been the best course of action, I probably increased his curiosity.”

“So I can stop worrying about the diary, Myles has it?” Willow asked, holding out her hand so Faith could help her to her feet, “Because I did consider the possibility it may have been taken, I remember reading an entry in the catalogue yesterday that caught my eye and it could possibly be referring to the diary.”

Once pulled to her feet, Willow moved to her desk and opened the library catalogue from Tirgsor, she flicked through the pages until she reached the very last entry.

“Don’t tell me someone wrote ‘naughty lesbian diary’ in there…wait, was the word ‘lesbian’ even used in the eighteenth century?” Faith tried to peer over Willow’s shoulder.

“No,” Willow replied in a curt voice as she ran her finger down the page, “I’ve read accounts where it has been referred to as Sapphic perversion…and other similar phrases along those lines.”

Willow paused as though Faith’s question finally registered in her brain, she glanced up at her friend with a surprised expression on her face, “Are you saying the woman who wrote that diary was a…that she loved women?”

Faith barely nodded as though it were of little importance, “Perhaps, though I think it was just one woman…she does go on to describe their love-making in particularly lovely prose, a little too chaste for my liking but it was interesting.”

“Wonderful, you tell me this now it’s missing,” Willow tried to conceal the disappointment in her voice just before her eyes widened in horror, “Heavens, Myles can’t read that!”

“Why not?” Faith allowed a small grin to creep across her face, “Are you worried that he’ll know more about Sapphic lovemaking than you do when he has finished?”

“No…of course not…and I know…things…but that is not the point, this is a waste of time,” Willow drew their combined attention away from Faith’s rather accurate comment and back to the matter at hand, she traced her finger across the page as she read, “Miscellaneous, deposited by W. Van Helsing in 1785.”

Faith shrugged, unimpressed, “That could be anything…why would it be the diary?”

“Firstly, there is almost one hundred years between this particular entry and the previous one and it roughly corresponds to the dates in the diary itself which began in 1777 I believe…and secondly, doesn’t the name Van Helsing ring a bell?”

“Are you thinking of old Abe?” Faith asked dubiously, “It could have been a common name at the time.”

“Van Helsing…common?” Willow clearly did not think so from the tone of her voice, “I’m going to do some research and find out if he had family, children perhaps…siblings…I think there’s a commonality here. It may have absolutely nothing to do with the intruder, but my curiosity has been piqued.”

“Heaven help us all! Well Will, I don’t know what on earth is going on here,” Faith looked directly at Willow, “But my instincts tell me that we’re on the cusp of something big…and I don’t like it one little bit.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, “Since when were you the prophecy girl?”

“Since everyone in this damn department started acting decidedly strange…first of all you’ve fallen in love, and it’s with a woman who is quite possibly responsible for breaking in and hitting Myles over the head, you’re saving my life which is strange enough in itself and Lara is acting like she’s your bloody mother.”

“Why is Croft acting like she’s my mother?” Willow asked with a frown even as she kept thinking over and over, I’m in love with a vampire!

Faith bit her lip as though she had been caught out, “Ah, no reason, ignore my ranting…”

“And more to the point…why are you calling her Lara?”

This time it was Faith who had been caught out. Following some mumbled words that Willow could not quite make out but sounded distinctly like ‘you ask too many questions,’ she exited her office. As Faith left, Willow thought she saw one very red cheek.

~~~~~~

Willow was talking to herself as she paced the footpath towards her flat. She’d worked late and the sun had just disappeared over the horizon. The shadows of dusk were gradually giving way to night. Gas streetlamps flicked on just as Willow reached her front door and she fumbled in her satchel for something. Almost a minute passed as she sifted through the stacks of paper jammed into the little bag and searched through various pockets. Various words of sounds and frustration escaped her lips before she suddenly sighed in sheer relief and reached inside her jacket. Triumphantly she withdrew a key and plugged it into the lock. As Willow slipped inside she never saw the shape lurking in the shadows just across the road, watching her.

Moments later the figure, shrouded in a dark cape, moved out into the streetlight. Light fell across striking planes of a woman’s face making her pale skin seem to glow. She paused for a moment to stare at the spot where Willow had stood before pulling the cowl of her cape up over her pale hair. Her features fell into shadow and she moved off, footfalls almost silent on the street cobbles. Just as Willow had not seen her, she did not appear to notice her own stalkers. A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a knee length leather coat fell into step beside her and she did not immediately react to his presence despite the fact that he was of an ill-favoured ilk. He strode with a definite swagger, his lips curled up into a curl approximation of a smile. His face was long, almost gaunt and ended in a square chin. His white hair stood in jagged spikes atop his head.

“I can never understand why you insist on watching her at night as well...anyone one of us would be more than capable of following her movements,” he spoke with a heavy London accent, most unlike the cultured tones with which the woman responded.

“Because William, our master cannot trust you to keep your hands to yourself…” she began to reply coldly.

“And you can?” William interrupted with a smirk.

She ignored him as she continued, “Imagine how displeased he would be if he found out the girl was lying face down in a gutter after you’d had your way with her.”

“Can’t blame a poor bugger for wanting some of that,” he seemed a little chastened, tucking his chin down into his coat.

“That to which you so charmingly refer, is not yours,” she cast a sidelong glance at the man walking next to her and her brow furrowed in disgust.

“Well now I suppose you think she’s yours then, Tara?”

Tara ignored him, instead casting her gaze ahead to the two darkened figures blocking their path. Neither she nor William slowed their pace as they continued walking. She hastened slightly to move ahead of William, she could not abide the company of the man…or rather demon, beside her.

None of us are human any longer, and yet I cannot help but refer to us as men or women as though we were still alive…I know I should not wish it…but I do…

Tara and William stopped short of the pair in front of them, now revealed to be Angelus, his tall frame wrapped possessively around a much smaller woman. Her body and features were petite even though she was swathed in a large fur coat, blonde hair barely peeping out from beneath a Cossack style hat.

“Angelus, Elizabeth,” Tara murmured in a bare greeting.

“I tire of this nothingness!” the small woman named Elizabeth announced in a high-pitched voice as she ignored Tara altogether, “I’m hungry and I want to hunt!”

“And we shall my sweet,” Angelus replied in a soothing voice, raising her hand to his lips and depositing a small kiss thereon, before his tone became mocking, “Tara appears as though she has little to report other than another day spent gazing forlornly at her long-lost love.”

Tara allowed herself an exasperated sigh, “My mortal self had a passing infatuation with Willow Van Helsing…in case you have not realised, I am no longer my mortal self…and that woman is not Willow Van Helsing.”

“I’m just concerned she will take up her old habits, I lost many a good friend to that woman,” William muttered

“And I think we should string her up and commence carving chunks out of her until she tells us where that damnable skull is,” Angelus tightened his grip around the woman in his arms.

“Still hungry!” Elizabeth snapped angrily.

“Gentlemen…and Elizabeth,” Tara began slowly, as though she were addressing children, “Willow Van Helsing has been in the ground for over one hundred years, this woman will not take up her old habits and she does not know where the skull is, I am still of the belief that Abraham Van Helsing was responsible for its disappearance…the old man hid it somewhere, and torturing that mortal is not going to get us any closer to finding it.”

“Then why are we keeping her alive?” William growled, annoyed at Tara’s tone.

“And why didn’t you tell me yesterday that you believe she does not know where the skull is!” Angelus roared, “We are wasting our time.”

“We are not,” Tara fought to keep her composure, “Wilhelmina Rosenberg will locate the skull for us…but she must be given the time and information to do so.”

“What information?” Angelus probed, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I have it in hand,” Tara replied firmly.

“Fine,” Angelus did not sound or appear to be convinced, “We will give her the time and space you say she needs…but if results are not forthcoming then I will do it my way…and I do not think there will be much blood left for our master to drink...”

“You torture me with talk of food!” Elizabeth growled petulantly, baring her fangs.

“My sweet, we will head down to the river immediately and find someone who will not be missed…” Angelus began.

“That's dirty blood that is! I want someone clean and sweet!” Elizabeth stomped her foot yet again.

“Then that is what you shall have…Tara, will you join us?” Angelus inquired as he began to steer Elizabeth in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” Tara replied quietly, “But I am not hungry.”

William eyeballed Tara as he turned to follow in the couple’s footsteps, “Bet your girl’s clean and sweet…I’m going to taste her before long, you know that don’t you.”

William let out a short laugh and left Tara alone to watch the backs of her three departing companions. As they disappeared in the distance she turned and walked back to the flat where Wilhelmina Rosenberg was no doubt getting ready for bed. She then folded herself into shadows directly across the street, watched for an hour until the lights behind the window went out and continued to watch throughout the night until the sun rose in the morning.

~~~~~~

Willow felt her feet dragging as she stumbled into the flat. It had been a long and tiring day trying to work out what had happened the previous evening when poor Myles had ended up with his head swathed in bandages. Despite the fact that the young man had protested he was fine, Willow suspected his bravado was a result of the kiss on the cheek from Faith and she could not shake the image of his white face as he described what he had seen that night. She was disturbed by the fact that he had described her mystery woman, and even more disturbed by the fact that there was nothing at the centre of the developed photograph.

Her eyelids were heavy as she carelessly tossed her satchel down on the kitchen table. She didn’t even bother with something to eat, instead moving straight through to her bedroom where she methodically began stripping her clothes off. Her suit was a crumpled pile on the floor before she remembered that it was her only one after ruining her grey suit the day before. With a sigh she gathered the garments up and hung them in her closet, momentarily becoming thoroughly depressed by the thought of shopping for another. Willow then fished under her pillow for her stripy pyjamas but soon stopped as she noticed the foreign object lying atop her pillow.

It was the diary, sitting neat as you please as though she had left it there when she went to work that morning. Willow’s first thought was to panic; she checked the latches on the one window in her flat and then the door but found all to be sound. She also distinctly remembered unlocking the door to get in.

“What do you want from me?” Willow demanded of the book as she re-entered her bedroom, “Stupid…it’s a diary, a damned possessed diary!”

Willow kept a close eye on the little book as she pulled her pyjamas on, expecting it to do something odd at any moment. It did nothing of the sort. It remained on her pillow, even when she flicked the lights off and turned on just the lamp by her bed. Willow hesitantly reached out and plucked the diary off, she couldn’t very well sleep with it there. She kept the diary in her hand as she folded herself beneath the sheets. Although her eyes were heavy with sleep and she really did not want to have anything more to do with the strange thing, she opened it to the first page opposite the inscription and started reading.

It would seem that I can scarce hear myself think over the beating of my heart…

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Dibs and YAY. I am not familiar with the Van Helsing "story", but I feel compelled to do research. This update left me both hungry and sated. Thx and keep up the good work!!!!

God, I feel so bad for both of some. Wanting and missing each other so much but living in a society where they could ndver really be together...

Hehe... he is such a weirdo! I imagine him looking like a Giles jr.

I should have seen it coming and subconsciously I did.

Silly Willow.
Great update

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"I don't get your crazy system!"
"System? It's called the alphabet!"

Talk about starting off with a bang. Ah, secret trysts beneath the stairs, hot and sensual, and I loved the descriptiveness of the whole entry. (How I wish they hadn't been interrupted. )

Awesome development, though. It's all starting to fall into place, and I am extremely excited to see how you're going to pull this though.

Waiting in anticipation, as always.

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-diamondforever

diamondforever's fanfiction archive

great update i am soooooo loving this story its is so cool.

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I love women. With skin so soft, women are head to toe cashmere.

Alcy, again great update. I thought I was gonna come apart with the scene under the stairs. I loved Tara's confusion re. W's use of the word "need," and even better when she finally figured out exactly what W needed. Good stuff, there.

And since I promised db that I would return the Magic Speculation 8-ball, I'm going to hold off on that for now. I have some ideas about present-day Willow's connection to the Van Helsings, but I want you to tell me, so I'll just let you do that.

Well done, again. I say that a lot, but I really mean it. Thank you.

Diane

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The dlline Short Fic Thread

Alcy -
This update has so many tremendous parts and it's very very full, particularly given the sparcity of words. The first part is amazingly sensual and erotic and it's particularly wonderful to read this account of Tara's intense passion and intermingled innocense (sp). The next bit with Tara not photographing is of course a mystery. I'm very curious what type of vampire she is that can walk in daytime, seems to possibly have her soul, and does she actually eat? Now the master and the others are obviously horrible so I hope Faith/Willow kill them at some point (plus which Angelus and Spike are just so blech). To see that Tara is watching Willow seems quite cute and I'm facinated that she left the diary and that Willow started reading it.

Ha ha: Faith and Lara are busted (btw: I found out that it's totally ok to post stories of other/other on KB so help yourself...) Tee hee.

Awesome stuff.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Alcy, this fic is so fascinating! You write so well I almost don't think to mention it, but it really is publishable (well not this cause of those pesky copyright issues). I love the pacing and the jumps through the diary back to the past. As many questions as you answer, you create more. So Tara is a vampire, but not a normal one (the sunlight factor...and Myles should be dead and drained, not just bonked on the head). Now my biggest questions are:

Is Willow a reincarnation of her Van Helsing twin, or something else?
When did Tara become a vampire, and did WVH know about it at the time?
And perhaps most importantly, are Faith and Lara doing it? hehe

No, I don't expect answers before their time, and am completely content to wait. But not too long, 'k? Awesome, awesome job.
-Cam

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Alcy,

It's almost 1am here and I've just gotten back from work after another 14-hour day at the office and if I don't drop you a note now it will never happen.

Pardon the brevity of this feedback, but can I tell you that when I read this latest update the following plot just flashed in my mind?

-Willow Van Helsing obviously killed the Master Vampire who most likely turned Tara. In this scenario the Master Vampire is Edward Walsh, of course, and Willow in her grief and rage over what's happened to Tara and how she has lost her kills him and then disposes of his skull to ensure that he will never rise again.-

All this to say that I'm thoroughly enjoying your Vampire and Vampire Hunters tale so much that I imagine scenarios of how I'd like things to be. No need to confirm or deny any premise of the scenario, it's just a flight of fancy I wanted to share with you not a fishing expedition for clues. I am quite content to wait and see what happens next.

It's interesting that in this fic it should be Tara who is lost since for all practical purposes she has lost her soul and her mortal self to the demon inside her yet is it Willow who is truly lost. Tara at least remembers who she was, but Willow is even lost to herself. And poor Tara has had to wait at least two human lifetimes to see her again (two human lifetimes assuming a modern human's life span of 75, but given the time of the story maybe it's more like three or four lifetimes).

Who is Tara kidding when she thinks that Willow won't return to her old ways? Willow may not remember being a demon hunter but her work at the Ministry is a different side of the same coin, granted a more passive one but pretty much along the lines of what she did before.

Finally, you have inspired me to dust off my copy of "The Historian" and I have begun to read it in the little spare time I have. I have the laughable goal that I may finish it before your story ends.

Thanks for sharing such a fabulous story.

Safuega

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In darkness there can be light
In misery there can be beauty
In death there can be life -El laberinto del fauno-

myfamiliar2824: Hey there, yay for the dibs! You don’t need to be familiar with Van Helsing at all, while I borrow a few elements, it’s a completely different story…which is a good thing really! I’ll try to keep up with the good work.

WillowRulez: I wanted the relationship in the diary to come across as torturous, if it was contemporary society, then they would have rented a U-haul and been living happily ever after in their inner city lesbian love pad.
I love Myles too, he’s such great fun to write and I hope to include him in more of the story. Thanks very much for reading and enjoying.

diamondforever: There’s nothing like a good old fashioned secret tryst beneath the stairs, and don’t worry about the interruption…I’ll make it up to you in the next chapter!
It’s a complex story and I’m glad it’s all coming together. I’m not sure if I can pull it off but it’s going to be fun anyway!

WolfDragonGod: Thanks very much!

dlline: Hi Diane, I’m glad you didn’t come apart. It has been quite difficult to write sexual desire from a realistic eighteenth century perspective, how much would they know, how much is instinctual etc…but it has been enjoyable and I really hope this shows through in the next chapter. I hope your ideas keep cooking!

JustSkipIt: Thanks for your kind words, Debra. I love the way you describe passion and innocence, it’s a great way to describe diary-Tara.
And then we come to the vampire mystery, it’s pretty much a given that present-day Tara is a vampire, although it’s also obvious that there are a few things that aren’t quite canon. And you needn’t worry re Angelus, William etc…you should know that the bad guys always get their just desserts in my fics!
And I’m more than sure that you’ll enjoy the next chapter!

tarawhipped: Heya Cam, stop it, you’ll make my head swell with your talk of publishing and what-not! I’m glad the pacing is coming across well, this is the first fic I’ve written that involves jumping across time as such a major plot point.
Great questions, I can tell you that one of them will be answered in the next chapter! Which shouldn’t be too long a wait, as it’s almost done now.

safuega: Wow, you work a 14 hour day and then you find the time to read my fic, I’m very flattered!
I enjoyed your scenario very much, I’m not going to say whether any of your elements will play out in Van Rosenberg but any one or all would make for great inclusions.
It does get quite sad when you think of the girls in their respective time periods, whatever clues you have picked up throughout the course of these past few chapters, it is obvious that they have spent a long time apart, there has been forgetting on Willow’s part and several lifetimes of loneliness on Tara’s.
No problem for sharing, I enjoy it immensely.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

CHAPTER SIX

15th January 1778

I have so much to say my pen shakes as I write. I shall try to compose myself as I write but the events of the past few days linger in my mind and on my skin as though I am still experiencing them.

Several days ago, a letter arrived for me in a clear, crisp script I did not recognise. I could barely contain my utter delight when the sender turned out to be none other than my own, dear W asking if I might possibly make it to London. I would be a guest at the Van Helsing’s townhouse with both herself and her brother, Abraham in residence. I shamefully admit that I used the pretence of Edward being in London for the season to cover my true intent in going while I knew full well that he was in the North with his regiment. Words could not describe my joy when mother granted me leave to stay (she actually approves immensely of the Van Helsings…but I wonder how her feelings would change if she knew the truth!)

I could scarce imagine the difficulty of arranging a liaison if W had indeed been a man (which is a ridiculous hypothetical as I would not be wanting the man-W to stay over at all!) Oh you cannot begin to comprehend how terrified I was. I was more than able to see the irony of it, I had longed to be alone with my W for so long but once I had achieved my goal I was frozen in stark terror. Dear W knew exactly how I felt and preceded with all the tenderness I knew she possessed. I am scared to commit the events of last night to paper for fear of discovery and yet I want more than just the memory of them to remain.

I am having great difficulty collecting my thoughts so I shall start from a beginning of sorts. When I arrived at the Van Helsing’s townhouse, W and I were compelled to spend an evening in the company of several of Captain Van Helsing’s friends. Fine fellows all, but I wished they would all beg their leave as I desperately wanted to be alone with W…and I knew she felt the same way. All through the evening she cast discreet glances in my direction that set my cheeks aflame. Her intent was written o so clearly in her gaze...she was undressing me with her eyes. Prior to my meeting W, I scarce even thought about what it would be like to stand bare before another person. I had overheard older, married women speak in hushed tones of an act so private that it could never be discussed, even between friends. From what I understood, it was a hurried act performed solely beneath the sheets…a duty to be performed. From what I now understand, it is none of those things…although I suppose there was some part of it that did take place beneath the sheets!

I am losing my way again…When Captain Van Helsing’s companions did finally depart and he himself made to beg his leave to retire for the evening, I felt a sudden rush of panic to my gut. I was left alone with W, and we were not in a stable or with the spiders in a cramped space beneath the stairs. I was suddenly aware of just how unseemly our being alone truly was. Two young, unmarried lovers…alone together.

I was able to study W’s face without being concerned of the notice my rapt attention might draw from gossiping matrons. Her whole visage was lit with some sort of inner glow and, although I did not think it possible, she appeared even more beautiful than ever before. She was saying something to me, her rosy lips moving as though she spoke but I could hear nothing.

“Miss Maclay, are you quite alright,” her voice finally broke through my rapture.

I felt my cheeks burn when I realised how foolish I must have seemed to her eyes, “Pardon me, Miss Rosenberg …you seem to have a habit of rendering me speechless.”

She laughed and tossed her flaming hair with overstated abandon, “Unintentional on my part of course…although I am exceptionally handsome.”

I joined in that laugh, “And modest too.”

We faced each other from a distance of a few paces for just a moment longer before she surged forward and took up both my hands in her own. I again felt a surge of power as our skin touched and her fingers entwined with my own. She lifted each hand in turn up to her lips and deposited a kiss on the back of my hand. So chaste a touch, and yet I felt my loins quivering with the same need I had felt last time her lips touched me. When her bowed head rose again to meet my gaze I saw her eyes shining bright with passion…and unshed tears.

“Miss Maclay…Tara…I must admit that my intentions towards you tonight are not entirely honourable…in fact, they are not honourable at all,” I heard W whisper, her voice choked with emotion, “I know what I want…yet I do not know what you want, whether you desire conversation or a bed, it has been a long evening entertaining and I fear that you may be exhausted and in need of sleep…alone.”

I was immensely pleased to hear that the last word was added on somewhat regretfully, as though the thought of me going to sleep alone was the worst manner in which to end the evening. I must admit that I was momentarily speechless once again. As I cursed my thick tongue, I was amazed that this young woman, possessing all the confidence and wit that she did, should be seeking direction from me! I knew exactly what I wanted. Even if I did not possess the words to fully make it known, I knew I could show her.

With brazenness I did not know I possessed, I drew her hands around my waist and moved into her body. I then claimed her lips with my own in a display of pure passion, full of heated breath and urgency.
I showed W exactly how I felt with the intense, almost bruising pressure of my lips on her own. My own hands snaked around her waist and roamed over her clothed body. As I felt nothing but maddening silk beneath my fingers, I felt a rising anger flow through my body. How desperately I wanted my fingers to roam over her naked flesh! Mere seconds later I felt her knees buckle and we both tumbled into the cushioned oriental-type sofa that sat behind us. I found myself lying a top her body, my weight pressing her back into the cushions, faces still just as close as they had been when we were kissing. Her eyes were glazed over with what I realised was desire and I knew she needed me right where my thigh was now pressed between her legs. I thrust forward experimentally, pressing my weight directly at the apex of her thighs beneath all that fabric. I heard a sharp intake of breath and saw her eyes close as her head tilted back. A small smile crossed my face at the thought of the power I possessed over her; just a slight shifting of my weight was enough to draw low moans from the back of her throat. I then buried my face in her neck as I continued to move against her body, sucking gently on the sweet skin I found there. Keeping my body moving, I moved my lips over her jaw line and found the creamy skin covering her shoulder blades. The fabric of her evening gown then barred further descent but, after a pause to collect my wits, I tugged it down over her shoulders with both hands, feeling a delicious shiver of wanton desire course through my body as my eyes feasted on her breasts for the first time. I hesitantly reached out to touch them with just the mere tips of my fingers. As soon as my skin came into contact with her breasts we both gasped at precisely the same moment. While I cannot say why the sound emerged from W’s throat, I gasped because I had never imagined touching skin so smooth. As I ran my fingertips over her small but perfectly formed breasts, I thought that perhaps I was touching silk rather than flesh. I had been avoiding touching the darkened area of skin at the centre where her tiny nipples nestled. While I do not want to describe my exploration of her breasts as an experiment, I nevertheless felt as though that was exactly what I was doing. Everything was a new experience, from her nipples hardening beneath my ministrations to the way she tasted when I took her flesh into my mouth. As my tongue rolled over her budded nipple, I heard her gasp my name. Emboldened, I increased the pace of my attentions until I was tasting as much of her as I could. My hands left her shoulders as I felt her quiver beneath me touch. I knew I wanted to give her more.

I proceeded purely by instinct. Of course I had no experience of touching a woman’s body other than my own and even then it was only in the most perfunctory manner, with none of the lingering caresses I now laid on W’s flesh. My hands moved downwards, seeking the heat between her legs. With a rush of feverish excitement, I cupped the small mound I found there.

“Oh god, Tara…please!” she breathed through her teeth.

I could barely hear her whisper but it did not matter, I knew instinctively what she sought. Trembling, I grasped a handful of silken gown and drew it upwards to expose the pale legs beneath. I ran my hands over her calves and knees, private places that no unmarried women of good breeding would allow a lover to stroke. I continued to move her gown up her body until it lay bunched around her hips. Feeling like a simpleton, I fumbled at the tie on her drawers and it seemed to take forever to loosen. I was not surprised when W’s hands moved with mine to remove her cumbersome undergarments. In moments, after the offending garment was tossed aside, I was left frozen with fear as she lay bare before me. Nestled between her pale, white thighs I was presented with a view of her sex, as mysterious as it was. I suppose it appeared to be much the same as my own, if I ever could look at it from such an angle, except that it was covered in a fine layer of red hair as opposed to honey brown.

Given my close proximity to her, I could smell an inviting scent that was rich and warm. As I came to the realisation that it was hers and hers alone, I was struck by the sudden desire to drink it in, to taste it as though it were some nectar that I had to imbibe to survive. I shifted my weight on the couch, moving down so I could lie between her legs and, as an opening move, press my nose against her downy hair.
I inhaled deeply for the first time and felt a rush to my head that had little to do with breathing and everything to do with the intoxicating aroma of her.

Tentatively I nuzzled my nose against her mound and I heard her gasp above me just as I felt her thrust her hips upwards. With her movement I suddenly found my nose buried within the slit of her folds and I was forced to inhale even more deeply of her. I heard the breathing issue forth hoarse and fast from her throat almost as though she were running.

“Taste me…please,” she whimpered desperately as I felt her run a trembling hand through my hair.

My tongue flicked out, again tentatively until I tasted of her fully and realised just how sweet she was. Any hesitation on my part disappeared and I eagerly explored the slick folds that lay beneath her red hair, no longer hidden to me. As my tongue passed over the nub of her clitoris, I heard a groan tear itself from her throat. I explored that tiny mound of flesh and was rewarded with the sound of further groaning. I sinfully decided that I enjoyed such sounds immensely and made it my silent promise to elicit as many as I could. It must have been agreeable to W also as she grasped my head with both hands, keeping my attention fixed in place. As I rolled the flesh about with my tongue, alternating it with firm strokes, her hips began to buck upwards, pushing her sex against my face with each stroke. In order to avoid being thrown off by her wild movements, I locked my arms around her thighs in a firm grip. Sounds continued to come from her throat, some sounding as though they came from her very gut, while others were almost silent, just slight whimpers that barely exited her throat. Sometimes her lips formed actual words, mostly my name spoken in a variety of tones…sometimes words of encouragement. In more urgent tones she spoke of needing release, although at that point I did not realise what she needed.

Several minutes later I realised, when my chin was coated in a layer of her warm juice and nothing but insistent, incoherent sounds came from her mouth. Her hips thrust upwards against my face one last time, her bottom remaining off the couch as she froze in that position while what she called her ‘release’ came. I did not stop the movement of my tongue. Although I had begun to feel a decided ache in my jaw, I kept up a steady pace, barely breathing through my nose. Her sex trembled beneath my lips and a hot flood from within her body coursed over my lips. As I was drinking greedily she begged me to stop. I glanced up to find her pressed back against the armrest of the couch, her eyes closed and naked chest heaving. There was a red flush spreading across her cheeks and I thought perhaps I had harmed her in some way. In a fearful voice I inquired after her health and was relieved to hear her manage a weak laugh.

“Dearest Tara,” she whispered, “Come here.”

She motioned me forward and I laid the length of her body. She did not seem to mind my weight pressing down on her. Then she claimed my lips once again, no doubt tasting deeply the taste of her own sex that covered them. We broke off the kiss, both quite breathless and I settled for propping myself up on an elbow so that I might study her beautiful face, flushed as it was.

“It seems as if I have corrupted you, Miss Maclay,” she murmured through what seemed like a haze of pleasure, her eyes were half-lidded and her voice was slightly breathless.

“Nothing of the sort,” I replied, my own voice tinged with exhaustion after what had been rather frenetic and extremely satisfying exertion, “I could have managed a polite exit as soon as you announced your less than honourable intentions.”

“Ah,” W sighed with a saucy wink, “But then I would have contrived to keep you here by some virtue of my wit or beauty, perhaps even sinking so low as to force a kiss upon you and bewitch you with my lips.”

I could not help but smile, the thought that this elegant creature draped over the couch beneath me might do everything in her power to keep me close served to keep my heart beating as strongly as it had a few moments earlier. I deposited another kiss on her already swollen lips to prove that she did not have to force anything on me.

“I think that this couch is doing something dreadful to my back,” W moistened her lips with her tongue as I moved away, “We should perhaps retire upstairs to my rooms?”

Other than the gleam in her eye that led me to believe she had things on her mind other than sleep, I needed no persuading to follow her. What an outrageous sight we would have made, two ladies with their gowns in disarray making very awkward progress up the stairs. We paused at every opportunity to force each other back against the wall and engage in yet another bout of furious kissing.

I could write much more about the remainder of the evening but with my love lying scant inches from me right this moment, I can stand it no longer. I must have her hands on my body now …and we have such little time available to us before I must return home and face my life and all that it entails…

I think that perhaps by committing this evidence of our love to paper, I am coming as close as I dare to admitting it to the world. Although I think I would die if anyone were to read these words, perhaps another part of me would feel a delicious thrill at having our love be known.

~~~~~~

Willow slapped the diary shut in a rather determined act of finality and practically shoved it beneath her pillow. She backed away from her bed as though it could watch her back until her back hit her dresser. When she turned she found a red-checked face staring back at her. She poured cold water from the pitcher into the bowl and splashed liberal amounts on her face, at a complete loss to explain the flushed sensations coursing throughout her body after reading that particular passage in the diary.

It’s just letters on a page for heaven’s sake, letters that make up words, words that carry important information, scholarly learning imparted for the benefit of future generations…like Plato or Herodotus… although they did write in Greek and the diary is in English…bad, bad, naughty English!

Willow scrubbed the skin on her face until it was tingling all over, even redder with the combination of scrubbing and the icy water. She felt a wave of indignation wash over her that the same letters that Shakespeare used were also used in such a crude and frustrating manner. Her clothes were pulled on in much the same frame of mind, each item was tugged on mercilessly and without a care that her shirt had not been ironed for the past week.

She continued to seethe throughout her journey to work, her thoughts only broken when she berated herself for forgetting to put on her coat. It was therefore a rather blue-lipped Willow who arrived at the British Museum sometime later. Even as she moved through the familiar and usually comforting halls she could not clear her mind. The words from the diary were stamped into her eyeballs and kept reciting themselves over and over in her mind as though they were a memory, and not just something she had read.

This is ridiculous, Willow thought in exasperation, I’m remembering making love to a beautiful woman like it was yesterday…and I did no such thing, nor am I likely to do such a thing in the near future, if ever…and here comes Faith, capital…just capital, okay, try and look as sane as possible…

Her best friend had paused in the corridor up ahead, lying in wait as Willow approached.

Knowing Willow as well as she did, Faith immediately noticed that something was not quite right with her. The redheaded young woman appeared decidedly anxious and her cheeks were stained with a hot rush flush despite the cool air outside. Faith narrowed her eyes and moved quickly to cut Willow off even as she attempted to move past her with just a curt nod. Her flustered actions only served to add fuel to Faith’s curiosity.

“Morning, Will,” Faith started off simply, “How’s business?”

“Fine,” Willow muttered, ducking her head, “I’m on my way to the library to do some research on Van Helsing…so if you don’t mind…”

When Willow managed to brush past her, Faith whirled and caught her by the strap of her satchel and yanked her backwards. A rather grumpy-looking Willow allowed herself to be halted, but kept her gaze downwards.

“What game are you playing at?” Faith demanded, “I’ve known you to become a little weird and obsessive while carrying out research…but never before has it driven you to the point of rudeness...too busy to stop and have a morning chat with me? Okay, granted I’m usually not the best conversationalist in the morning but I’m still me and unless something has changed overnight, I’m still your best friend.”

Willow looked up suddenly with an expression approaching mortification, “I wasn’t being rude…I get distracted a lot and ignore people and I will admit that I’m absent-minded sometimes, but never rude…it’s just that…”

Willow stopped. Even though Faith was her best friend and more like family that her own parents, she could not bring herself to explain the way the passage in the diary had made her feel. The passage itself had been so private and personal that she felt ashamed for reading it, not to mention the strange manner in which it had instilled itself in her own consciousness. To share such matters with Faith would be entering into a territory she was not prepared to go…and it was embarrassing beyond words.

“It’s just that I’m not feeling…quite myself,” Willow managed to explain herself without telling an outright lie, “I just need to read something and clear my head.”

Faith chuckled, “Most people would not class reading something as the best cure for clearing heads…but coming from you, I think can understand it…you are alright aren’t you?”

Willow managed a tight-lipped smile of her own and a quick nod, “Yes, all with the fine here…I promise.”

Faith cocked her head slightly to one side as though she were studying Willow closely, “You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Willow nodded again, a little too quickly this time, “Of course…and I’ll let you know if I find out more about Van Helsing.”

As Faith watched Willow walk down the corridor in the direction of the Museum’s library, she had to suppress the urge to follow her. Lara’s concerns regarding the young woman had now become her own. Whatever Willow had just said, Faith felt that something serious was going on in Willow’s life…or at least was about to and she needed to be there to protect her in the face of whatever it was.

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With a wall of books piled around her as if to resemble a sturdy rampart, Willow felt somewhat safer. She managed to fill her head with biographical details of the life of Abraham Van Helsing. For the most part, it made for exceptionally dull reading. The man seemed to have spent at least fifty years of his life stuck behind a desk writing articles on best museum practice and personally overseeing every square inch of the massive organisation. There was very little information on his personal life, although from what Willow could read between the lines, he appeared not to have had any living family.

Even for one who enjoyed research as much as Willow, the task was turning out to be extremely unfruitful. She was about to call quits on her search when she suddenly jumped at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. As her heart rate calmed, she glanced over her shoulder to see Giles standing over her.

“Giles, why are you venturing out of your workshop?” Willow inquired, relieved to be distracted.

“Well I am known to do that from time to time, Willow,” he responded warmly, glancing down at the heavy tome she was reading, “Van Helsing? Any particular reason for looking up the old coot?”

“I am beginning to think not,” Willow closed the book, sneezing in the resulting clouds of dust that were thrown up, “I found a reference to a ‘W. Van Helsing’ in the library catalogue that Faith found at Tirgsor and was hoping to find out who that might be…the date of deposit suggests that it whoever it was would have been a contemporary of Abraham’s…but not family I think, I can’t see that he had any.”

“Interesting,” Giles replied a little vaguely.

“And there’s barely anything at all on his early life, he makes a few references to his military career in later writings, and I believe at one stage he may have been posted to India…it is honestly quite maddening.”

“Well, that would be Abe for you.”

Willow glanced back up at Giles following his rather odd comment, “Giles…you speak as if you knew him? I know you’re old…but I also know you’re not that old.”

“Ah, well now of course not….” Giles was so flustered that he did not even pick up on Willow’s good-natured ribbing, he recovered quickly however, “But I have done a bit of research myself, he did have some interesting ideas.”

Willow snorted and pushed back her chair, “I wouldn’t choose that word exactly.”

“What word?” Giles asked with a slight frown.

“Interesting,” Willow replied promptly, “he’s nothing of the sort.”

“I think you may be surprised if you do a little digging,” Giles suggested.

Willow rose to her feet and stretched with a wide yawn, “I honestly don’t think there’s any point…it’s a dead end to a side topic that I should waste no more time on, especially not while I have real work to do.”

“Willow Rosenberg!” Giles suddenly snapped, “Do you not remember anything I taught you? Did I teach you to give up as soon as something became too difficult for you?”

“No,” Willow replied, somewhat taken aback by her mentor’s sudden outburst, “You encouraged me to persevere with everything…you think I should…”

“I don’t think you should do anything, Willow,” Giles turned to make his way out of the library, he cast one last glance back over his shoulder, “However, if I might make a suggestion, I believe Hampshire would be a good place to continue your search.”

Before Willow could interrogate Giles as to his sudden interest in her work, he disappeared through the large doors that led out into the museum proper. Willow couldn’t bring herself to do something as unseemly as run through the library to catch up to him. Instead she stood rooted to the same spot with a puzzled expression on her face. She already thoroughly disliked the idea of having to leave London. Going alone was out of the question, she’d have to twist Faith’s arm to get her to come along.

~~~~~~

The sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. The curtains were drawn in Lara Croft’s office, only the golden glow of a single lamp served to bring light to the room and it failed to reach to the spaces of the cavernous ceiling. Much of the room was shrouded in shadow save the desk space around the lamp where Lara worked, head bent over several pages in front of her. Long, delicate fingers grasped a fountain pen, it was currently poised above the page as she read the lines already written. Her brow furrowed gently before she continued writing with strokes of precision. Lara wrote non-stop for the better part of ten minutes before she glanced up suddenly at the sound of her door latch being rattled. As the door swung inwards, Lara set the pen down. There was no trace of surprise on her face when she saw who it was. Just as she was the only person who would dare put her feet up on Lara’s desk, Faith was also the only person who would enter without bothering to knock.

Faith was not wearing her scarlet jacket, jut a plain white shirt and a pair of man’s trousers tucked into riding boots. Her roughly bound hair was escaping around her face and down her neck as though she had been engaged in some sort of wild exertion. She paused to lean against the bookshelves behind her, arms folded brazenly across her chest.

“In all my years in this business, I have never had a more insubordinate employee,” Lara remarked, leaning back in her hair and calmly regarding the young woman standing in front of her.

Obviously this comment pleased Faith immensely as she smiled broadly. She straightened up and let her arms fall to her side as she sauntered across the space between the door and the desk. Faith planted both palms face down on the desk. She leaned inwards, over the desk and towards Lara with the smile still fixed on her face.

“Have you had a chance to read my report yet?” Faith asked, although the tone of her voice was clearly not meant for such a mundane question.

Lara saw straight through Faith’s question as a small smile played across her lips. She rose slowly from her chair, obviously she had been sitting for some hours and her bad leg had stiffened. With Faith looking on with a hungry gaze, Lara moved around the table, past Faith and to the settee which was tucked against the bookshelves on the far side of the office. Leaning back against its elevated headrest, she swung her leg up with a small sigh.

As Faith shifted slightly so she could face Lara she saw the elegant brunette tug back her skirts and petticoats to reveal a pale but lithe leg, terribly marred by a series of brutal scars. She also saw a look on Lara’s face that she had never seen before, one of anguish and disgust.

When Lara glanced back up towards Faith, the look was gone, erased as though it had never been there in the first place.

“I’ve faced stone statues that come to life, more daemon hounds than I care to remember, vampires, zombies, werewolves, flying demons, subterranean demons…dozens of demons all at once…and the only creature that’s ever come close to killing me was a bloody crocodile in Australia…and I found myself lying on a wooden table in the middle of nowhere with a knife pressed to the throat of the only doctor for miles around, I swore I’d slit his throat if he cut my leg off.”

“Well…you still have your leg so I guess he’s still breathing?” Faith could think of nothing else to say.

“Lucky for both of us,” Lara commented wryly, she made to pull her skirts back over the scars, “Sorry…I don’t usually…”

Faith was across the floor before Lara could continue her apology. She found no further need for one as she Faith’s warm lips closed in upon her own. Lara lifted her head slightly to meet her and within a few moments the two women were locked in a languorous embrace. Lara was only dimly aware of her hands stroking Faith’s back through the fabric of her shirt as she lost herself to the emotions she felt coursing through her body. It was not merely months, but years of pent up frustration that was released in the steaming hot breath escaping from her pressed lips.

When Faith’s hand moved beneath her skirts and continued to worm its warm up her leg, beneath her drawers, Lara encouraged her with a slight shifting of weight in her hips. While she had not intended the movement to come across as a blatant thrust against Faith’s hand, that was nevertheless how Faith perceived it. The brunette laughed lightly in her ear, a rush of warm breath that sent her extremities into a tingling frenzy. The frenzy spread across her entire body as Faith’s fingers found what they had been searching for, eagerly delving into the warm folds between her legs. The thrusting motion of her hips was no longer a subtle shifting of weight as she began to move against the firm stroking motions of Faith’s fingers.

Faith then slipped one arm beneath Lara’s neck to support herself, the unused fingers of that hand curling around to brush against Lara’s cheek. Lara found herself leaning into that touch, even taking Faith’s fingers in her mouth as the pace increased. A small cry escaped her lips as the index finger of her other hand slipped past the already quite moist folds. The cries did not abate as Faith thrust gently upwards until her finger was buried as deeply as possible and her palm jammed firmly against the clit beneath it.

“Do you want this?” she heard Faith whispered in her ear.

The question was redundant. As Lara felt Faith begin to move her hips in time with the thrusting motion of her hand she knew there was only one conclusion that they could possibly reach…and that required Faith continuing exactly what she was doing. To ensure she did not stop or move away Lara wrapped both legs around Faith’s back. That action was apparently all the answer that Faith needed as she increased the pace of her thrusting, her hips surging forward with each stroke. She buried her face in Lara’s neck as she moved, filling her ears with the regular intensity of her breathing.

Faith’s movements took Lara to a place she had not been in a long time, that foggy haze of pleasure where one could get lost forever or drown completely. As she allowed herself to be drawn even further into the world that just the two of them shared, she heard herself whisper the brunette’s name fiercely, like an oath. Faith was making sounds of her own, they could have possibly been words or grunts of exertion, whatever they were they did not make any sense in the midst of the pleasant haze in Lara’s mind. She felt Faith’s body move against her own, the way the muscles rippled beneath her shirt, and the feel of not one but two fingers thrust inside her. They moved easily through the slick folds, each time seeming to move deeper and hit a new spot that felt even more pleasurable if that were possible. She was also aware of Faith’s palm moving firmly against her clit, almost roughly stroking the hard little nubbin of flesh in time with her thrusting.

Although Lara knew that little time had passed, the frenzy of Faith’s movements and her own pent-up need guaranteed that her orgasm came swiftly. When it did, she arched her back and tried to stifle the cries bursting from her lips as she knew Cordelia would no doubt be behind her desk just on the other side of the door. Faith was there to quickly smother the cries with her lips, continuing to move even as Lara’s body bucked beneath her weight. She felt the walls of her cunt spasm around the fingers that moved within. For one intense, drawn-out moment, her world imploded and was reduced to two bodies struggling against one another. Faith’s fiercely thrusting body was contained within her own sweaty thighs. As she rode out the violent orgasm, she found herself instinctively squeezing Faith’s body as though it were a lifeline.

When the moment was over she felt drained and her thighs slipped from their position, one falling to rest against the back of the couch while the other protruded out over the edge as she rested her foot on the floor. For the first time she was aware of just how heavy Faith was as she lay across her body, the majority of her weight now resting on her middle. Faith’s talented hand still lay within the puddle that was her cunt, she felt the seat of her drawers to be damp with spilt juices and in a moment of silliness she worried that the couch may have been stained as a result of their impromptu lovemaking.

Such thoughts of dirty upholstery were banished a moment later as Faith resumed the lazy kiss that had been interrupted by even more sinful pleasures. It was a tired but intimate exploration of lips, ending with Faith nuzzling against Lara’s nose in a tender expression that seemed completely at odds with her boisterous personality. She smiled before nestling her cheek against Lara’s chest, no doubt listening as the rapidly beating organ gradually slowed. Other residues of their lovemaking remained, a pleasant musky, sweaty smell hung in the air while Faith’s hand remained nestled between Lara’s legs.

Neither felt the need for any conversation for almost ten minutes until Lara spoke just as Faith was drifting into a pleasant waking dream.

“Have any developments been made regarding the information you collected in Tirgsor?” Lara whispered.

Lara tried to remove all traces sensuality from her voice but with Faith’s warm, weight lying across her body, this was not quite successful. As a result, her words came out with less weight than she would have ordinarily given to such a matter of importance.

“You speak of business at a time like this?” Faith glanced up at the woman’s face, her chin brushing Lara’s, “Truly woman, you are preoccupied beyond all reason…or am I not as intoxicating as I have always led myself to believe?”

Lara laughed, a brief throaty sound, “You are that…and more, but always at the back of my mind is the knowledge that there are matters of great concern lurking in the world, matters that I must deal with…that I must send my people out into the world to deal with.”

“Has this got something to do with Rosenberg?” Faith asked quietly, turning away from Lara’s distracted gaze and resting her head in the crook of her shoulder.

“Perhaps,” Lara replied evasively.

“Care to enlighten me?” Faith asked, even though she already knew the answer…and she did not expect favours just because she had Lara had all of a sudden become more intimate than their relationship should have allowed.

“You will soon realise that being my lover admits you only so far into my confidence,” there was a distinct note of reluctance to Lara’s sigh.

Faith raised her eyebrows, “So I’m your lover now?”

Lara’s lips curled up into a small smile, “Officially I am as cold and frigid as the Arctic seas…unofficially, I am yours…as little as there is of me to give.”

Faith rolled over within Lara’s arms and propped herself up so she could work at the buttons one the front of her employer’s dress.

With several deft movements she had the garment open to just above Lara’s navel. The chemise in her path was then rather savagely ripped open by her powerful grip to finally bare Lara’s breasts. The magnificent appendages rose rhythmically with Lara’s still heavy breathing. A few bubbles of sweat lay nestled in her cleavage.

“I wouldn’t say there is ‘little’ of you at all,” Faith whispered as she ducked her head to take the nearest parcel of flesh into her mouth.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Holy shit, Alcy! I think you broke me. (Dibs, by the way)

I think you broke Willow too, evidenced by her moody slamming about. I'm curious as to what Giles knows about old Abe, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. And another holy shit for Faith and Lara. I need to go to bed now.

Great update. Another job well done. Thank you.

Diane

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The dlline Short Fic Thread

DAMN THAT WAS REALLY SUPER HOT..... can't wait for more

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I love women. With skin so soft, women are head to toe cashmere.

I have been remiss with my feed back I am so sorry I wont let it happen again. I am with Diane when I say that you broke me as well and I fear I will not recover before the end of this story

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Dia the spelunker
Never underestimate the powerful love of a good woman
If you were a cave what kind of cave would you be

The 18th century world and the Victorian world are becoming closer together. Also, the human world that Willow lives in is becoming closer to the vampire world that Tara lives in. I feel so heartbroken when I read about Tara's affair with W -- so in love, yet destined to be denied. Very daring of them to do the deed in a part of the house where someone (Abraham for instance) could walk in any time. I hate this, first time making love should be so sweet (and it was, don't get me wrong) but I'm dreading the day they are discovered. Is it the reason why Abraham is so dry and withdrawn? Is it the reason why there is no mention of W van Helsing in the museum books? How did Tara became who she is? What is the magic of the diary that makes Willow "remember"? I feel like every feedback I leave you is full of questions, hope you don't mind, it's a lot of my own thinking and my enjoyment of this epic.
[br]

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quiet thoughts

You have a real talent for writing smut, my dear
First W. & Tara's lovemaking and then Faith & Lara
What's up with Giles? The thing about his age made him a little testy hm? *suspicious*

Awww...

Hehe, i can SO imagine them together.
Waiting impatiently for more!
P.S.: I am with Watty about the Abraham thing. He must have had his reasons to not mention W. at all.

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"I don't get your crazy system!"
"System? It's called the alphabet!"

Alcy
I haven't commented for a while, sorry. I have been keeping up with this fic tho' and enjoying it.

This last update was pretty hot - not only W&T becoming lovers but also Faith & Lara. Beautifully done too. I liked the way you showed Tara empowered and led by her desires, and her delight in her discoveries. Your reminders of the strength of the taboos (of the time) they were breaking, and the depths of ignorance young, unmarried women were kept in, made this all the more remarkable.

I couldn't help but be struck with the difference between the Willow in the diary and the 'current day' Wilhelmina. The first confident of her own worth and attractiveness, apparently sexually knowledgeable, if not experienced, and assertive in her desire for Tara. All, also apparently, with the complicity of her brother Abraham. While Wilhelmina is introverted, sexually unaware, socially awkward, doubting her attractiveness, confident only of her intellect and the worth of her work. I think it's interesting to speculate on why the differences are there, and what it might take to bring Wilhelmina out of her shell.

So Giles knows something about Abe? He even sounded as tho' he knew him personally, yet he can't (as Wil pointed out) have done. Why doesn't he just tell her what he knows instead of sending her off to Hampshire? Is he in on some plot?

Keep up the good work Alcy.
Anne[/url]

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Spells for Two

Every path has its puddle. Old English Saying... I think I just stepped in mine...

Sex sex everywhere! I'm lovin' it! You delivered as promised, and daaaamn, that was hot. I feel like such a voyeur, which was probably what present-day Willow was feeling. And I adored the Lara/Faith. Thanks for that one! It made my day.

Well done! I guess next chapter will be...back to the plot then. (more sex? )

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-diamondforever

diamondforever's fanfiction archive

Alcy - what a great update and not just because it was hot. I love the contrast you play with here regarding sexual comfort and the way we discuss sex and sexual acts. First you have the Tara/Willow ago part which is both lovely and surprising. Tara certainly seems to possess a healthy sense of experimentation and exploration for one in her age. Hell, I'm impressed (and a little surprised) that she knows where/what the clit is. I mean I'd believe kind of feeling her way through the entire "kiss this yummy part and listen to those sounds" part but she even mentions Willow's clit. If Willow is more experienced, which seems to be the case, I believe she has found an avid and enthusiastic innocent to indoctrinate.

Then we pass to the Willow=now part of the update and she's so appalled. I think the word that truly amazes me from her is crude. By today's standards? Crude? I mean we would read that and be like "well I guess it's NC-17..." But to her in her "thenness" it's crude and shocking.

Then we come to our part of the update which is written in today's language and today's pov and it's more what we're used to. BTW: very hot and I wholehearedly approved of some NC-17 action between Faith and Lara Croft. I found two things about the interaction surprising. 1. That this was their first time. I had honestly assumed that they were already lovers from their interactions together. If that was your intention, well done. 2. That it seemed quite one-sided. I'm happy for the confirmation of their status as lovers which makes me feel that Faith won't be high and dry (or not dry) for very long but ...

My point and I don't know how well I've done it... is that you do a really marvelous job of blending and contrasting the three different era's attitudes toward sexuality and the expression thereof.

To add on: I'm quite curious about Giles's pushing Willow to continue her research with a nudge and his seeming knowing Abe. I'm also quite curious regarding a comment about the way the reading makes Willow feel. I don't have access to the exact line but it almost seems that a spell is being cast so that she experiences the things she reads.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful if I didn't mention.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

As if Willow and Tara's hotness wasn't enough (!) now we've got Faith and Lara too. I think you need to add more disclaimers - people could start drowning in their own drool over this

I like the sense of connection and disconnection between Willow and Tara. Willow's cut off from her 'past', deeply affected by it, but still, it's on the outside of her. Tara is (it seems) the same Tara, rather than a new incarnation, except that she's evolved over time, so she's not really the Tara of the diary any more than Willow is. And yet, they are those people, in a way. It'll certainly be interesting seeing how they come together - new incarnations of themselves, partially rediscovering each other, partly finding each other to be new people. It makes my head spin (in a good way).

I really like your Lara Croft, by the way - I'm no expert on her, but I used to follow her a bit, before the movies and the reworking of the games, and this feels very faithful (so to speak, heh) to the impression I had of Lara as a character, way back then. Strong, but quietly afraid of how fragile she might be, if she let herself be.

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Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

Hey Alcy I just read the fic and let me say it's wonderful. I love the story it's so full of goodness. I hope you update soon because I really want to know how Tara became a vampire. I love the diary storys they could be a wonderful story alone. Great story update soon.

Hey Alcy I love your story it's a really interesting concept.
I can't wait to know what will happen next.
Update soon please!!

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*Will*

It only take a minute to see that someone is special an hour to appreciate and a day to love that person. But it take forever to forget.

oh, please update this or rhyme and reason soon! i've been waiting too long!!!!!!!

Hi everyone,
I''ve been usually tardy with my updates for a number of good reasons which I won't bore you with. Suffice to say I'm back and the next chapter is almost ready, for now, here's the feedback for the last chapter!

dlline: Hi Diane, sorry for the breakage of both you and Willow…although I think I’m going to do more work to break Willow in the next chapter. I’m kind of mean like that.

WolfDragonGod: Very glad you found it super hot…I definitely aim for the hotness!

Dianneswillowtree: Don’t worry about being remiss with the feedback, I’ve been very tardy with this latest chapter but I hope you enjoy it when it finally is posted.

watty: It was my intention to be able to move back and forth between the different time periods in Van Rosenberg and create a fluid timeline that almost has the illusion of things happening all at once. This is definitely the case with the human and vampire world, these two worlds do co-exist and in future chapters we will see more of the way in which the weave together.
The 18th century love affair is intended to be heartbreaking, how could it be anything else given its setting?
You ask many questions my dear watty, all of which will be answered as time goes by and each successive chapter is revealed.

WillowRulez: Thanks very much for your compliment, it’s nice to know that I am good at writing smut! And this last chapter was certainly full of it.
I am sorry to kept you waiting so long for the next chapter but I hope it’s worth the wait.

Spells42: Glad you liked the hotness of the last episode. While I don’t have any experience in love-making from an 18th or 19th century perspective it is nevertheless a fun challenge to speculate and write scenarios that delve into that innocence and ignorance and change them around so that young women are empowered and they can be the person that they want to be. I guess this is all I can do other than get angry at historical inequalities and injustices!
You’re more than right about the differences between ‘W’ and ‘Wilhelmina’, they are two exceptional different people and this will come to the forefront in successive chapters with some important consequences.
Giles might know something about Abe…but I’m not giving anything away there!

diamondforever: There’s absolutely nothing bad with ‘sex sex everywhere!’ and I’m more than happy to oblige! While this fic is never going to be PWP, I nevertheless enjoy throwing in the occasional chapter that leans that way!

JustSkipIt: Thanks for reading along and I’m glad you enjoyed. There’s a lot to be said about this chapter and you say it all so well as you always do!
I don’t doubt that 18th Century ‘W’ is more experienced in ‘ways of the flesh’ than Tara, but I agree in the fact that Tara is not at all timid and is also quite willingly corrupted. Very fun to write and an interesting aside worth mentioning is the fact that it’s an opposite of what happened in WYTN? where it was Tara doing the indoctrinating.

You’re right in that Willow is completely shocked by the diary entry, we know what sort of person she is and you can bet that she’s not the type of person that reads 19th century pornographic literature! For someone to read something like that first the first time, especially someone who has never had sex, it would no doubt be horrifying, but there’s also another element in here. Willow knows she prefers women so the diary entry also touches her from that point of view. She is even more disturbed by how the diary has impacted on her emotionally and physically for this reason.

Coming to your comments about Faith and Lara, this was indeed the first time for them, their previous banter was intended to come across like two women who were clearly hot for one another, foreplay if you will and I don’t think Faith will be staying high and dry as you put it for long either!
Thanks again Debra, your feedback is always very valuable!

Artemis: Hi Chris, yes, I wasn’t satisfied with just Willow and Tara’s hotness so I had to write some Faith and Lara too. I’m sorry for the lack of exclaimers, I could put ‘drool inducing at the top for future smut heavy ones!

I really like your analysis of the sense of connection and disconnection between Willow and Tara. It fits exactly how I’m writing the characters and the multiple challenges that go along with doing so. Trust me, it makes my head spin too!

I’m having great fun writing Lara Croft, I’m played the PlayStation games ever since the first one came out (it was the very first PS game we owned!) and have watched both movies multiple times, so I’m not trying to channel Angie in writing this role but I would by lying if I said I didn’t have an image of her in my head when writing her scenes. I would rather feel it’s an amalgamation of the game and movie character.

guitar_girl: Thanks very much, you’ll eventually find out how Tara became a vampire and all the other answers, but right now I just have to finish the next chapter for all the impatient kittens!

will: Hi Will, thanks for enjoying the fic and I hope to have more for you to read soon.

FoxintheSnow: Sorry for the lack of updates, I’m back in writing form now and the next chapter should be up soon.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Chapter Seven

5th February 1778

To say that I have been deliriously happy over the past few weeks would be nothing short of an understatement. I have come to understand what being in love actually means and I would go as far to venture that most women of my class would not understand or indeed ever experience such a wondrous thing. I pity those poor creatures. While many of them spent this afternoon of Captain Van Helsing’s birthday at Hagley Park entombed within the drawing room playing bridge, my W and I braved the still lingering winter chill to make our way to Hagley Park’s secluded Grecian temple. Quite sheltered there from any prying eyes, we lost ourselves in each other’s touch as we have been want to do so often over the past few weeks. I found myself drawn down onto W’s lap as she sat with her back against one of the marble pillars, my skirts bunched scandalously high to reveal my white thighs in broad daylight. An unthinkable act for an unmarried woman and yet my W had seen so much more of me that I did not care.

Since that wondrous January night, we have grown bold in our meetings, perhaps too bold. It was proven that afternoon as W and I were ensconced in a lingering kiss. Our world where just the two of us existed was brought crashing in upon us with the sound of a small cough. In a flurry of skirts we separated and stood to find the dashing birthday boy staring up at us from the bottom of the steps. Captain Van Helsing bore not a look of disgusted horror, but rather one of gentle bemusement as we both checked our attire and hair. We had no sooner fixed our garments into place than a whole party of at least a dozen people came traipsing along the path, all young people of our own age who had no doubt sought to take in some of the scenery of Hagley Park even in the cold air. We smiled politely when they exclaimed over our flushed cheeks, thinking that we must be frozen in the winter air and that we should re-join them in the drawing room for a cup of tea to revive ourselves. I knew full well as W glanced over her shoulder when we descended the stairs that we both felt more than revived already.
We settled at the back of the party alongside W’s gracious brother and I could not help but admire the young man for what he was. Ridiculously handsome and charming to be sure…but also very much a decent man.

“It was all I could do to outrun the pack and warn you both…I say the picture would have been far less pleasing to their eyes,” Abraham nodded to the men and women striding ahead, all of them gossiping harpies and complete prats.

“And the picture was pleasing to your eye?” W snapped in a playful tone, “Abraham, if you indulged in gazing upon Miss Maclay’s thighs…”

“I did nothing of the sort…I only meant pleasing in terms of seeing my sister happy and with someone who clearly loves her,” he replied, keeping his voice down so that our conversation did not carry ahead to the rest of the group.

He then offered out an arm to each of us and we took it, W planting a small kiss on her brother’s cheek. I could not help but wish that all people were of the same ilk as Abraham Van Helsing. Despite the frivolity of the moment and the amusement of our narrow escape, I could not help but dread the many possible endings of our little fairytale…almost all of them disastrously unhappy for W and I. This dread was heightened as Edward Walsh removed himself from the group ahead and politely offered to take me off Abraham’s arm. I could do naught in the situation but graciously accept his proffered arm. I cast one desperate look back at W as Edward swept me away from her.

“We’ve missed your company for much of the day, Miss Maclay,” he whispered in a too-sweet voice, “Whatever have you and W been doing all this time?”

My whole body was gripped with a spasm of fear as his fingers dug deep into my arm. I glanced up at his sickly smile and was terrified to think that he might see the truth in my eyes. Even now as I sit here and write these words I can lift the sleeve of my nightgown to reveal the bruises his fingers left on my flesh.

~~~~~~~

Willow sat up with a start and immediately regretted the sudden movement. She had fallen asleep on her desk with her neck craned at an awkward angle. Now as she straightened up she was instantly reminded that sitting in a chair at her desk was not the ideal sleeping position. She glanced out her tiny window to see that dawn was not far away, the first fingers of light creeping out across the tiny sliver of sky she could see. As she attempted to stretch out the rather painful crook in her neck, she remembered the dream that had kept her sleeping so deeply in her awkward position. Further evidence of this deep sleep was provided by the drool which covered the papers upon which her cheek had lain. As she picked them up to wipe it off with her handkerchief, her eyes fell upon the little diary. Without thinking too much about why she was doing so, Willow picked up the small volume and flicked through the pages to the next unread entry.

To say that I have been deliriously happy…

Even as Willow scanned the first few sentences she realised that she knew exactly what happened in the entry. From the Grecian temple, to the writer’s white thighs (which caused Willow’s heart to race) and the interruption of the two women’s kissing…it was written exactly as it had played out in her dream and she realised that she had dreamt everything from the perspective of ‘W.’ She remembered the feel of the blonde woman’s lips on her own. She lifted her fingertips and distinctly remembered the feel of the silky white skin on the woman’s thighs. The one thing that was missing was the woman’s face, try as she might, Willow could not remember what she looked like…only that she had been completely intoxicating.

Willow immediately set the little book down. As if events surrounding it had not be weird enough already, it managed to surprise her yet again. She eyed it for a few moments as though she expected it to speak to her before rising to her feet and turning to scan the heavily laden bookshelves behind her. She found the volume she had been thinking of and settled herself back in her chair with the book propped up on the desk.

When Faith arrived at work a good hour later that morning, she found Willow completely ensconced in the book, so much so that the red-head did not even look up when her friend entered her office.

Unperturbed by Willow’s lack of greeting, Faith smiled broadly, “Ah, now that’s a pretty sight. I’ve been coming in here lately to find you involved in odd pastimes like drawing…now you’re back to reading, it’s comforting.”

Willow glanced up with surprise clearly registering on her face as she slammed the book shut, “Hello…errr, how long have you been there? Not long I hope because I was just doing some important research and was quite caught up…I’m sorry if I ignored you…reading and all, you know me…”

Faith made herself a perch on Willow’s desk, something of a feat considering the amount of material that covered the desk. Willow reached out and snatched a few of her more valuable items before Faith sat on them and in doing so, she let the book in front of her slip from her grasp. Faith was quick to seize the volume up, flipping it over to read the cover before Willow could reach out and stop her.

“A Treatise on Reincarnation?” Faith read in an amused tone, “What are you planning on coming back as?”

Willow stood so she was in a better position to snatch the book back off Faith, once it was safely back in her hands she turned and deposited it back in its spot on the shelf as though she had no intention of reading further. She faced Faith with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Not coming back so much as…already returned…” Willow began awkwardly; she paused before continuing, “Faith, do you believe in it at all…in reincarnation I mean. I’ve studied extensively and come across a lot of seemingly unexplainable things in my time here but I’ve never felt so strange about anything in my life…I honestly think I’m losing my mind and it’s all because of that stupid diary you found. You know what; I think I’ll blame you for bringing it back with you.”

Faith arched her eyebrows, “You do sound odder than usual Willow…and not your customary scatty, intellectual oddness either…I think you need some fresh air…and what the hell is up with your hair, have you been sleeping on your desk again?”

Willow avoided answering Faith’s question but she did reach up both hands and drag them through the tangled red strands on her head in a perfunctory manner. Faith just shook her head at the complete hopelessness of the woman standing in front of her as an amused smile played across her lips.

“Faith, will you come to Hampshire with me?” Willow asked suddenly.

The smile faded from Faith’s lips and her brow furrowed as though she were trying to work out exactly what was going on in her friend’s head, “Hampshire? Willow, why would I want to go to bloody Hampshire?”

Willow stood on the other side of her desk, leaning forward with both hands resting on the edge in an attempt to create a semblance of authority…of which of course she had none.

“Because this is important to the museum,” she insisted.

“Important to the museum or important to you?” Faith asked in an accusatory tone.

Willow buckled slightly under Faith’s tone but her answer was just as firm, “Okay, I need these answers for my own sanity…but I have a feeling that they go much wider. Someone needs me to get to the bottom of that diary and for that I need to go to Hampshire and get to the bottom of ‘W Van Helsing,’ there’s something important here Faith, and I have the feeling it’s going to affect us all.”

Faith folded her arms and pursed her lips in a thoughtful manner, “You’re not one to act an instincts Will…you act on facts, which is why I will come with you…you’re acting so strangely I’m afraid you’ll run off to Hampshire by yourself.”

“I could,” Willow insisted, lifting her chin defiantly, “There’s nothing I should worry about in Hampshire anyway.”

“Not ordinarily,” Faith grinned, “But I’m sure you’ll mange to find some element of trouble wherever you go…okay, when do we leave?”

~~~~~~

Impatient to at least start unravelling the mystery, Willow dragged Faith to the train station that very morning. Both women travelled light with just a small bag between them and an innocuous looking case concealing a small arsenal of Faith’s weapons. The journey into the heart of Hampshire was uneventful, Willow promptly buried herself in a book and Faith fell asleep before the train had even left London. She did not wake until Willow prodded her awake at their destination some hours later. The redhead was somewhat miffed to see that Faith sprang into action with her attire and hair as perfect as they had been when she boarded the train.

Thanks to the organisation’s connections, there was a small two seated carriage drawn by a rather placid looking grey horse waiting for them when they alighted at the station. Faith glanced around, quite used to being in the middle of nowhere and turned to Willow who was struggling with a rather unwieldy map.

“Know where we’re going?” she asked.

“I think so,” was Willow’s less than convincing reply as she squinted to try and read the map in the fast dimming light of early evening.

Faith groaned loudly as Willow moved towards the carriage without retrieving any of their luggage from the platform. The redhead did not look up from the map until the horse tethered to their carriage emitted a rather disgusted snort. She gave a sharp, surprised squeal, dropped the map and stumbled back a few steps to put more distance between herself and the horse which was eyeing her as though it wanted to take a bite out of her arm. As if sensing this, Willow folded her arms tightly across her chest and kept the horse in her sights (not that he was going anywhere).

“I take it I’ll be driving then,” Faith announced as she breezed past Willow and deposited their bags behind the seats, she then moved to stroke the horses’ forehead as though to taunt Willow further.

Without taking her eyes off the horse, Willow clambered up into the carriage and seated herself stiffly on the padded seat. Faith mounted the carriage a few moments later and untied the reins. She glanced across at Willow and grinned contentedly before she urged the horse forward with an exuberantly loud cry of encouragement. Willow was thrown back against the seat as the horse sensed Faith’s enthusiasm and obviously felt spurred to move as fast as possible. With Faith perched forward in the seat gripping the reins like someone possessed, Willow was forced to hang on for dear life.

Luckily for Willow the horse had slowed eventually and she managed to give Faith directions to the church in a barely tremulous voice, maintaining some semblance of dignity. When the carriage eventually clattered to a halt at the gates to the church ground, Willow glanced across at the church. It was unremarkable, just a tiny parish church like so many others that dotted the English landscape. There was a tiny steeple atop its slanted tile roof and narrow arched windows that pierced its walls. Both women climbed down from the carriage, Faith stopping long enough to open her weapons case and retrieve her favourite weapons, a sword and dagger which she belted around her waist.

The sun had almost disappeared completely as they picked their way through the small graveyard that surrounded the church, just a few fading rays illuminating their path.

“Two field trips in a week Will, you’ll be ruining your reputation soon,” Faith grinned across at Willow as she opened the heavy oak door, its hinges protested with a loud screech at being disturbed.

“For a good reason,” Willow muttered, “You drag me off to a warehouse that’s being staked out by a particularly nasty demon that I have to save you from…and then if I remember rightly two years before that you lured me to that house in Shepherd’s Bush with the promise of an untouched library. There was no library and a whole family of violent, restless spirits!”

Faith shrugged, “It’s good for you to get out.”

Willow pulled a face behind Faith’s back as she led the way inside. The air inside the church was heavy with age and musty with disuse. While it did not appear to be totally abandoned, its days of being full of worshipers were long behind it. Everything bore a thin layer of dust; no one had walked down the aisle nor sat on the pews for some time. Willow glanced down at her footprints in the dust and felt a chill run down her spine, suppose there was a good reason for the lack of parishioners? She felt icy cold fingers on the back of her neck and squealed loudly, her scream echoing around the vaulted ceiling.

“Will,” it was Faith, a broad grin on her face, “We’re in a church, we couldn’t possibly be in any less danger…you know, you really ought to try going once in a while.”

Willow frowned disbelievingly as her friend slipped past her towards the pulpit, “You go to church?”

“Of course,” Faith glanced back over her shoulder, “With everything I see in my line of work…well, let’s just say it gives me a sense of peace.”

Willow stopped walking and studied Faith’s back as she too stopped just in line with the front pew and stared up at the stained glass window. Willow glanced upwards too, grimy and dull though it was; it was still beautiful in the fading light. While Faith’s words were definitely not an admission of weakness, it had still come as a surprise to Willow to realise that there was something she hadn’t known about her friend. For a moment it caused her to take stock of how well she really knew the other woman and she was somewhat saddened to admit that she did not know her as well as she would have liked.

“Faith, I’m sorry…” she said quietly, hardly daring to disturb the other woman’s brief peaceful respite.

She crossed the distance between them to Faith’s side, feeling somewhat closer to her due to their physical proximity.

“What have you gone and done now?” was Faith’s immediate response.

“I just meant I’m sorry for not being as good a friend as I could be…I mean, I watch you leave for dark destinations unknown and all I’m really interested in is whether you come back with books…it just seems a bit…”

“Shallow…single-minded?” Faith finished quickly but moments later she glanced across at Willow with an appreciative smile, “I like you just the way you are Willow, don’t try and change for anyone.”

“But…” Willow began.

Faith was quick to cut her off, “Enough with the sentimental stuff Willow or I’ll start to worry that you do have a thing for me…haven’t you got something you came here to do?”

Willow felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks and she nodded quickly, moving to a small stack of registers that were neatly placed in an alcove to one side. She ran her figures over their handsomely bound leather spines and was dismayed when she saw her fingertips blacken with a layer of dust. Withdrawing her handkerchief from her coat pocket, she spent a good minute dusting the half a dozen volumes until she was satisfied that she had discharged her self-imposed duty. After stuffing her dirty handkerchief back into her pocket, she selected a volume tucked in the middle of the shelf. Carrying it solemnly, she deposited it on the pulpit next to the worn bible.

“Better you than me,” Faith quipped as she lent over Willow’s shoulder to see the cramped rows of records, each one undecipherable to her untrained eye.

Willow pursed her lips thoughtfully as she scanned the dates of births and deaths recorded in the parish register, there were a good number of Van Helsings scattered throughout.

“Our dear friend Abe was born in 1754…” Willow whispered as she quickly scanned the dates, “Here he is, christened on 24th May 1754, Abraham Theodore Van Helsing, son of Pieter and Marianne…”

“Why so many Van Helsing’s?” Faith reached out and traced her finger down the list; indeed, there were several more christenings for the same family.

Willow shrugged, “Infant mortality was high…sickly infants were christened as soon as possible…” she too ran her finger down the page and read out the entry each time she came to ‘Van Helsing, “a daughter 15th October 1755, died four days later, son born and died 24th August 1757 , son born and died 5th January 1759, daughter born 6th October 1760…there’s no date of death but no name either…”

“Is that strange?” Faith asked.

“Not really, it could simply be that she too was expected to die and they did not name her at the time of her christening…it appears though that she must have lived,” Willow continued scanning downwards and directly beneath the entry for the unnamed daughter was another ‘Van Helsing’, “Marianne Van Helsing, died 6th October.”

Beneath that entry were no further entries for Van Helsing until several pages later where ‘Pieter Van Helsing’ was listed as having passed away in 1775.

“So Abe had a sister?” Faith stated as Willow closed the heavy volume, “But without a name we can’t even speculate whether she was the ‘W Van Helsing’ that deposited the diary?”

“Right,” Willow replied, her gruff voice betraying her disappointment.

As they exited the church almost half an hour later, (Willow having paused to give the books another, more thorough dusting) Willow ran through the facts she’d stored in her head about the Van Helsings. She already knew as much as was written about Abe’s professional life but the small snippets of his personal life she had gleamed added little overall. He had a sister and they were left orphaned when Abe had been a young man of 21 and his sister barely 15…still she knew the family had money so neither would have suffered for lack of options, Abraham for choices with his career and his sister for suitable marriage prospects.

“I’m sorry I dragged you all this way for almost nothing,” Willow told Faith as they made their way through the church’s small graveyard with only a weak moonlight to guide them back to the carriage, “If Giles hadn’t been so insistent on my following up this lead I wouldn’t have bothered…I cannot see any relevance to my Vlad Tepes research, if there was the smallest hint I would follow it up but…”

“It’s okay you don’t have to justify yourself to me, I know you Will, you’d sniff out any research trail…but I don’t understand why Giles was so insistent?” Faith asked as she picked her way between the weathered headstones.

“I have no idea…” Willow began a split second before Faith’s hand shot hand and grabbed her arm, sharp nails digging into her skin even through her jacket, “What the hell…”

Willow spun in Faith’s grip and made to snatch her arm away but there was something on her friend’s face that made her freeze. She watched as Faith’s free hand moved to the hilt of her sword and gripped it with white knuckles.

“Will, get behind me,” Faith hissed in a low voice.

When Faith used that tone Willow knew she should do exactly as told, she scrambled behind her and in doing so saw exactly what was between them and the carriage. She had an extremely unpleasant flashback to a dark warehouse and a stinking creature pinning her to the ground, gobs of salvia dripping over her face as a mouth full of barred fangs grinned down at her.

“Faith…it’s a -it’s a - it’s a…” Willow stammered, unable to force the relevant words out.

“I know what it is you bloody idiot,” Faith drew her sword in one swift stroke, the blade rasping against the scabbard in a familiar sound that meant business.

Willow’s eyes did not leave the Atramen as it moved closer to the two women. It was almost identical to the one they faced in the warehouse although she had seen that one go up in flames. If anything though, this one was even larger with muscles rippling beneath its skin. As Faith moved in front of her, sword at the ready, Willow caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She felt weak at the knees when she turned to see a second spiky headed demon, its massive white eyes shining in the moonlight, huge grin barred as though it were laughing at them.

“Ah…Faith! There’s two of them!” Willow squeaked as she reached out and grabbed Faith’s arm, dragging her around to face the second Atramen which was approaching from the opposite direction. She made a mental note to amend her paper where she had stated that Atramen never worked in pairs…citing personal experience as her reference.

“Bloody hell,” Faith hissed, her knuckles white on the hilts of her sword and dagger, “I don’t suppose there’s any point in saying I’ll take this one if you get the other?”

“What?” Willow yelped, clutching at Faith’s arm desperately, “What am I going to do to it? Bore it to death with the collected works of Aeschylus?”

“It’d work for me!” Faith hissed through gritted teeth, she was constantly moving and watching their foes despite Willow’s awkward weight on her arm, “Here take this.”

Willow found the hilt of Faith’s dagger pressed into her hand; she glanced down at the foot long weapon, completely unaccustomed to its weight. She stared at it as one would stare at an unwanted appendage, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I should think it obvious,” Faith was already occupied with the closest Atramen as it stalked her, poised to strike, “If they get anywhere near you, stick it into them!”

That was the only good advice Faith had to offer before the Atramen leapt directly towards her with all its astonishing speed and strength. She roughly shoved Willow to one side, safely out of the creature’s path, even as she weaved beneath its strike. A clawed foot narrowly missed her head but she did not dwell on narrow escapes, instead spinning to face the Atramen as it landed. The creature did not pause for a second, its feet barely touched the ground before it darted to one side to avoid Faith’s sword plunging into the middle of its back. Faith lunged forward, missing by a hair and the demon caught her extended wrist in a vice like grip. Her arm was twisted awkwardly but she managed to hold onto her sword and bring her elbow backwards to catch the creature sharply in the stomach. It merely grunted and did not release her from its hold, instead snaring her in an even more dangerous position as its other arm locked around her neck. Faith struggled even as the creature drew her backwards against its body. With a grunt of supreme effort torn from her throat, Faith lurched forward and threw the demon up over her back and crashing to the ground in front of her. With each breath coming short and fast, she too did not pause for an instant; with the creature on its back in front of her she changed her grip on her sword and plunged it downwards. The sword sank into nothing but earth as the Atramen rolled aside. A mere split second later it was standing once more and they began another round, each trying to catch the other off guard, each looking for an opening to tear a mortal wound in the other.

Faith’s frantic bout with the Atramen had lasted mere seconds; meanwhile, Willow was rising from the damp grass where Faith’s shove had sent her flying. Even as she rose to her feet, using a nearby headstone to steady herself, she saw the second Atramen slip behind a headstone of a huge winged angel. She watched for it to emerge from the other side but it did not, Willow risked a quick glance over her shoulder to see Faith grappling with her own foe. Even before she laid eyes on her friend, she knew she was alone. Her gaze jerked back to face the winged angel headstone, the serene gaze of the celestial creature seeming to mock her in her terror. She lifted the dagger so it was clearly visible out in front of her, hoping the demon would at least perceive her as something of a threat. Any hope of that was ruined by the manner in which the blade trembled violently as a result of the spasms of fear that gripped her entire body. The ridiculous situation did not escape Willow’s attention; she was alone facing a powerful demon that Faith with all her skills and seeming fearlessness struggled to defeat. She clearly remembered setting alight the Atramen at the warehouse but despite the matches she had tucked safely in her pocket, there was no conveniently placed oil lamp to create a flammable missile. She half-heartedly wondered whether flinging individual matches at the creature would do any good.

Willow circled the grave where the Atramen lurked, all the while her own hoarse breaths drowned out the sound of the struggle going on behind her between Faith and the demon. It was taunting her, it knew full well how scared she was, it could probably smell her fear. Matters were not helped with a sharp cry of pain from behind her from Faith. Willow did not dare take her eyes off the demon in front of her. She knew the moment she did it would leap on her and tear her arms off with one savage pull. As much as she feared for her friend, she needed the use of her arms more. When the attack came it was as swift as Willow had expected but she was still not prepared for it. The demon’s feet slammed into her chest and sent her flying back several metres, luckily landing on a patch of grass instead of a headstone. Even though she felt like her chest was about to collapse, Willow rolled just as a fist came crashing down into the earth where her head had been moments before. She scrambled to her feet as the agile creature leapt back into a standing position, snarling as she ducked behind a large stone cross. Rather than go around the stone to get to Willow, the Atramen simply smashed straight through it with one swing of its fist. Willow was showered with fragments of the cross as she scrambled backwards. She reached down and retrieved one of the larger fragments, hurling it at the demon’s head with a grunt of effort. The stone found its mark, breaking off several of the spike’s protruding from the demon’s head. Even as it howled in pain, Willow darted forward, blood pounding with adrenalin, and made to plunge the dagger straight into its chest. She came close before her wrist was seized and twisted; the dagger fell from her grasp. Before she realised what was happening her throat was ensnared by a huge fist and her feet were off the ground. As she struggled for a breath, Willow’s fingers frantically worked to release herself from the grip around her neck but it was vice-like. As she began to see spots at the edge of her vision, she found herself flying, thrown backwards by the creature. This time she did strike a headstone, it caught her across the back and she was in intense pain as she fell to the ground. Willow struggled to stand but an awkward crawl on her hands and knees was the most she could manage. She glanced upwards in time to see Faith in the distance as she fought. Willow’s mouth opened in shock as she saw the Atramen move beneath her swinging sword and ram its outstretched clawed fingers into her side. She saw Faith fall like a sack of potatoes into an unmoving heap on the ground.

“Not good,” Willow whispered, fingers digging into the earth beneath her as she struggled to find the strength to stand.

She heaved herself up and managed a groggy sort of stumble before she realised that both Atramen now had her as their sole target. Weapon-less and half-concussed, Willow watched them moved towards her, a pair of deadly demons poised to strike a final blow on the helpless researcher.

Even as Willow resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and wait for the end, she felt her hair whipped about her face by a sudden gust of wind. Both Atramen froze as though they had seen something behind Willow in the darkness, if anything she thought they were afraid. Willow lost sight of them moments later as an even stronger gust of wind threw her back to the ground. With a grunt Willow hit the earth, wiping any last reserves of strength she had with impact. Even on the ground she was aware of another figure moving besides the two demons. As she struggled to lift her head, she caught glimpses of a dark shape moving to stand between herself and the demons.

“Cremo!” the ethereal shape yelled in a terrible, infuriated voice.

The voice rang deafeningly in a dazed Willow’s ears. She glanced up at that moment to see a dark cloak billowing like mist around a shadowy figure. Blonde hair flew, rendered almost silver in the moonlight. The figure moved, seemingly a part of the night until a violent burst of light came from first one outstretched hand and then the other in rapid succession. Although the sudden intense light burnt Willow’s eyes and the heat seared her skin, she could not tear her gaze away. The flying balls of fire slammed into both Atramen even as they made to flee. She stared transfixed as they fell to the ground between the headstones, writhing in agony, mouths bared in silent screams until all movement ceased and they were merely burning husks on the ground.

Willow’s first instinct was to run but she found standing hard enough. Only with both hands gripping the headstone in front of her could she drag herself onto her feet. Even then she found her knees could hardly support her weight. Faith’s dagger was lying several feet away but she no sooner could have dived for it than she could have made fireballs shoot out of her own hands. In fact, she could do absolutely nothing save stand on her shaking legs as the dark figure approached. It stepped into the weak firelight of the burning bodies and Willow’s jaw dropped as she saw the pale fire illuminated in front of her. The fire cast a flickering glow onto the marble white skin of the woman who had haunted her dreams these past months. Her white blonde hair fell loose, down over her black riding cloak, the hood back and settled over her shoulders. Beneath the coat Willow could see a little of high collared black dress which swirled as she walked towards her. The strangest element of the whole picture was the tiny smile on her face, just the barest hint of a lopsided curve of her gorgeous lips. Lips that Willow lost herself in until they opened and the woman spoke.

“One wonders why you do not find a new line of work Willow Rosenberg; it would seem that you are not cut out for demon fighting,” gone were the harsh tones in which she had utter the single word moments before, her voice was soft and melodious.

“Well this one wonders who the bloody heck you are!” Willow was quick to retort, her anger serving to mask her fear almost completely.

The blonde woman arched an eyebrow reproachfully and Willow instantly regretted her bad manners, whoever or whatever she was, this woman had saved her life for a second time and she deserved more than heated demands for answers…even though there were answers that Willow desperately wanted.

“Who I am is not important,” she spoke softly as she moved, circling Willow while keeping her piercing gaze fixed on her, “You should be asking who she is.”

She moved her gaze away from Willow, seemingly to gaze at a small marble headstone at her feet. Warily, Willow too circled around to stand so she could read the gravestone, all the while keeping a respectable distance between herself and the pale woman. She managed to drag her eyes away from her eerily beautiful visage to stare at the grave marker that commanded the woman’s attention. The analyst in Willow immediately noted that where most headstones in the cemetery were heavily scarred by the ravages of time and weather, this particular marker could have been placed just yesterday. The words there were etched deeply in the white rock. Momentarily forgetting the woman that stood at her side, Willow was gripped by the sudden urge to be closer to the grave. She knelt on the well-tended grass and reached out to trace the words with her fingers as she read them aloud in an audibly trembling voice.

“W-Willow…” her voice choked on the word as though she had never uttered it before even though it was her own name, she swallowed before continuing, “Willow Van Helsing…born on the sixth of October 1760, died on the seventh of June 1785…tu fui, ego eris.”

A soft voice spoke behind her to translate even though Willow knew exactly what it said, “What you are, I was. What I am, you will be.”

A shiver crawled slowly up Willow’s spine as she heard the translation, she did not know whether it was the words or the manner in which it was said that troubled her the most.

“We all die,” Willow replied matter-of-factly as she straightened up and took a few steps backwards, away from the grave.

“Yes we do,” the blonde woman turned to face Willow but kept her head turned to face the grave for a few moments longer, “But I think that you alone could interpret that particular inscription on that particular grave in a different way.”

She eventually drew her gaze away from the stone and turned to face Willow, her expression betraying very little and certainly giving no hint as to what she meant with her cryptic words.

“What do you mean by that?” Willow demanded, once more forgetting that she had not even thanked the woman, “You can start by explaining everything…who you are for a start, why the hell you’re following me around…”

“You did not come here to find those answers, the answers you are looking for lie at your feet…I thought you would realise their importance by how desperately he wants to keep you from them.”

“Who’s ‘he’?” Willow felt as though she were sinking in quicksand, the harder she tried to get out, the deeper she sank, she turned her attention back to the grave and said in a frustrated voice, “It’s the grave of Willow Van Helsing…although I cannot be certain, it would seem that she was the ‘W. Van Helsing’ who deposited the diary at Tirgsor, and the dates would seem to agree, she died in 1785, the same year as the diary was deposited.”

As he voice trailed off, Willow’s frustration seemed to ebb and her mind lingered over the dates etched on the headstone. She felt a cloak of sadness settle on her shoulders as she re-read them in her head.

“She was not yet 25 when she died,” Willow whispered, thinking of her own 25 years and imagining them cut short for some unknown reason, “Do you know how she died?”

Willow tore her gaze away from the headstone and forced herself to meet the gaze of the strange woman that she still knew virtually nothing about. The fact that Willow suspected her to be a vampire lingered uneasily at the back of her mind and she still half expected the beautiful features to twist into savagery moments before ripping her throat out. However, it was hard to dwell on thoughts of this nature in the face of the woman’s unearthly beauty and the barely suppressed desire Willow felt for her. She did not know whether to run screaming or throw herself in the woman’s arms…vampire or not. When she searched the blue eyes, shining brightly in the moonlight, she found a detectable hint of sadness and knowledge which made Willow think that she did know the answer to her question. Her head tipped forward, blonde hair falling forward over her face. Willow did not know what to think, while her head told her this woman could be a dangerous demon, her heart told her she was a woman who lived and grieved.

“Do you know how Willow Van Helsing died?” Willow repeated in a soft voice and without any trace of her earlier anger and frustration.

“I do,” was the quiet response, “And not a day has gone by that I do not wish to die for what I did…”

Willow frowned before asking, “You had a hand in it?”

The woman did not respond in any way, Willow could see no movement from her head that would indicate a confirmation or denial. Instead, almost a minute later she raised her head and gave Willow a long level look that seemed to bore a hole straight through to her soul.

“I do not think I should give you the answers you seek today Willow…just some advice, take what you have learnt here and dwell on it…in time, you will come to understand and realise how you fit into the puzzle.”

“But I haven’t learnt anything here…and what puzzle?” Willow asked urgently, she desperately wanted to stay with the woman, even if only to stand in silence with her, her proximity somehow felt natural, “At least tell me who you are and where I might find you again?”

“Will?” another voice sounded out in the darkness and Willow was instantly reminded of Faith, she had left her lying unconscious on the ground while she traded empty words with this cryptic and insufferable woman in front of her.

Willow spun to see Faith gingerly dragging herself to her feet almost a dozen feet away, while she wanted to run to her friend’s side immediately, she also did not want to let the blonde woman out of her sight.

“I need those answers…” Willow begun to ask as she turned back after seeing Faith was standing on her own two feet…but her question was never finished as the woman was gone, “Bloody hell!”

“Willow?” Faith’s voice was just over her shoulder now as she approached her from behind.

With a last desperate search of the scene in front of her, Willow turned back to Faith. She was genuinely relieved to find her friend seemingly okay…apart from her torn and bloody thigh, a dark stain coating the lower half of her torso and a series of bloody teeth marks in her neck. Willow reached out to support her as she swayed a little unsteadily from loss of blood.

“Faith?” Willow set her down gently atop a nearby headstone before taking off her jacket and immediately setting about ripping strips from the bottom of her shirt to use as bandages.

Faith winced as she lifted her leg for Willow to bind but said through gritted teeth, “It’s just a flesh wound…nothing a few stitches won’t fix…and I’m sure I could do with a few more scars.”

“Sorry,” Willow said as she heard a sharp intake of breath when she tied the strip of fabric off firmly, “What about your side…there’s a lot of blood.”

Faith reached down to lift up her own shirt and Willow could not help but utter her own gasp when she saw the deep, ragged gash in Faith’s side. Blood was still flowing from the ugly wound and Willow moved quickly to staunch it before Faith lost any more...and she was also in a hurry to cover up the horrible sight lest she faint

“Sorry,” Willow apologised weakly as she heard a full-throated groan this time.

“Just wrap the bloody thing up tightly!” Faith snapped, “I’ll live as long as you don’t faint…bloody hell Rosenberg…remind me never to go anywhere with you again!”

“Sorry…I didn’t realise…”

“Stop saying you’re sorry…and what happened anyway, last thing I remember those bastards were still roaming around, I may have sliced the arm off one but I’m sure he could’ve done enough damage…what did you do Willow?”

“Well…” Willow tied off the improvised bandage, knowing full well that she could hardly tell Faith a flame wielding woman, who she suspected was a vampire, had torched the two demons, “I don’t know really, one minute they were here…the next they were gone…providence really, maybe they had somewhere better to be?”

“Providence indeed,” Faith muttered grimly, “Hurry up and help me to my feet, that shit hole of a village we passed a mile back has to have a doctor of some sort…although I think you’ll have to drive…”

“Are you sure you can’t…” Willow began weakly as she glanced in the distance to where the grey horse was still tethered to their carriage, seemingly oblivious to the battle in the graveyard.

“Will, I’m at death’s door here…” Faith muttered weakly.

“Okay,” Willow nodded resolutely as she helped Faith to her feet, “He’s a nice horse I’m sure…and it’s not far to go…I can do this.”

Even as Willow helped Faith from the cemetery, she risked one last glance back. All she saw was the squat little church surrounded by headstones, all seeming to shine in the moonlight. The blonde woman was wiped from her mind as she concentrated on getting help for Faith, if her friend lived, there would be plenty of time for her to dwell on what had taken place in the cemetery.

~~~~~~

Willow did not glance upwards, if she had, she would have seen the shadowy figure crouched on the ridgepole of the church watching her still. A slight breeze had begun to kick up, Tara’s cloak swirled around her body slightly and her hair stroked the tears that fell on her pale cheeks. It had been difficult to conceal the agony she felt at being so close to Willow, to be so close and not able to reach out and fold her into a fierce embrace had been nothing short of torture. She remembered catching a few strands of her vibrant red hair for a second as she knelt in front of the tombstone and glanced down now at the one strand of hair she still held. With a sigh, Tara let it fall from her fingers. It fell for a moment before being swept off into the darkness by the wind. Tara turned her attention back to the two figures below and watched until Willow had managed to coax the horses back towards the village. Then she was gone.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

OOOOH dibs, I will read it later cuz I gotta go to the gym, but you have made my day. Thnx

wow nice update can't wait for more.

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I love women. With skin so soft, women are head to toe cashmere.

Willow and her horse-fear... never gets old

Shocker. But nice.

So adorable!
I KNEW Tara would safe Willow! Now Willow just needs to figure out who Tara is!
Missed this story! Dont stay away for so long again!

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"I don't get your crazy system!"
"System? It's called the alphabet!"

That was haunting. I don't really know how else to put it, but the whole plot is just off-setting and meaningful. There's this feeling of something mystical happening, and there was so much regret in what Tara said to Willow.

Beautiful.

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-diamondforever

diamondforever's fanfiction archive

I finally read the update (RL SUX) any hoo, um the only thing I can say is beautiful. That was a very moving and descriptive update. Plus the girls met up again, a plus in my book. Thanks to you tho, I am biting my nails again. Must have update again sooooon. Keep up the great work.