It was a long time before he came down to earth, came back to himself, and started thinking again instead of just feeling. His first thought wasn’t a happy one. What have I done? He didn’t just come down from the high of lovemaking; he crashed down hard into a low of depression.

Shauna looked at him sleepily, a puzzled expression crossing her features. “Aidan, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’ve just ruined my life, that’s what’s wrong. Why…” He didn’t even know what question to ask. “Why did this have to happen? Why did you have to kiss me?”

She stiffened. “It wasn’t entirely my idea, you know,” she said in a dangerous tone of voice. “I didn’t force myself on you.”

He stopped short, realizing that trying to blame Shauna wouldn’t do him any good. “I know,” he said. “Sorry. I just…” he sighed, trying to think of what to say, how to explain himself. And what was he going to say to Flame Song when he went home? “My wife,” he said, “she…” he stopped again, looking for the right words.

“She doesn’t need to know,” said Shauna, “and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Aidan shook his head. “I can’t keep something like this from her! She knows me too well. I… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well sitting here feeing sorry for yourself isn’t going to help you any,” said Shauna sharply. “You…” whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of a chime from somewhere else in the house. “Bother, what now?” she said, and slid out of the bed, throwing on a robe.

Aidan buried his face in his hands and wallowed in depression. Why couldn’t he have kept control of himself? And why did have to have this cursed hunger that took control of him? If he’d still been a breathing man this never would have happened. The sound of voices raised in anger dimly penetrated his consciousness, and for something to do other than lay there being miserable he got up and got dressed, or at least as dressed as he could get with no shirt and no sign of his boots either, and padded barefoot to the door. His keen hearing could make out what they were saying long before he reached the front room where the argument originated.

“I tell you again, I’m not going to hand him over to you. You just about killed him once, and you’re not going to get a second chance.”

“Lady, he’s got you hypnotized or something. He’s a vampire! Look at yourself, he’s been drinking your blood! If you were in your right mind you’d be disgusted by it.”

“Ha! You’re the one not in your right mind. And I don’t buy your story of wanting to rid the world of him for the world’s good, you’re after something else, I’d bet on it. Now get out!”

“I don’t think so. You could have done this the easy way, but no, you had to be all noble.”

Aidan didn’t wait any longer, he threw open the door and walked into the room. Shauna was staring determinedly up at a well-built half-elven man. He had one hand raised threateningly, but she didn’t look threatened. They both turned to look at Aidan when he came in. He glared at the man; sure that this was the archer who had shot him down.

Shauna correctly read the look in his eyes and stepped back, letting Aidan have a clear path to the other man. Aidan’s mind was a tortured whirl of guilt and undirected anger. He couldn’t be mad at Shauna but if he didn’t take his anger out somehow, it would only turn inward on himself, and here was someone he could let his anger out on. He didn’t bother with any prelude, he just walked up to the taller man and grabbed him by the throat. Had he still been merely mortal, the other man could have shrugged him off without even trying, but his strength was now much greater than his size suggested and he didn’t have any trouble lifting the larger man off of his feet. The half-elf made a strangled sound of surprise and lashed out with one fist, connecting solidly. Aidan was a little bit staggered by the blow, but not enough to let go of his grip. He spun the man around, slamming him into the nearest wall. He relaxed his grip just enough to let the fellow breathe and said, “What do you want?”

“You dead,” said the man with a snarl.

“And why is that? I don’t recall having met you. Do you like hunting down strangers, just for fun?”

“You’re an undead monstrosity,” said the man, but Aidan had heard anti-vampire fanatics before, and his voice lacked the ring of fanatical conviction.

“I don’t think so. You’re not out for vampire blood, you’re out for mine. Why? The truth this time,” and he thumped the man’s head against the wall for emphasis.

The man’s eyes crossed, and Aidan hoped he hadn’t hit him hard enough to put him out, but his gaze straightened out again and he gave Aidan a glare of sheer hatred. Then he laughed darkly. “Why not? You ought to know the reason for your doom. My master sent me to claim what’s rightfully his.”

“And who is your master?”

“Asmodeus,” said the man, and Aidan just about dropped him in surprise. The last he’d seen of Asmodeus the demon had been pulling the ceiling down around him with one of Aidan’s daggers stuck in his chest. Aidan had assumed the thing was dead, but apparently not.

“So, he’s still after the torc? Well, you can go tell him he’s not going to get it.” He pulled the man away from the wall and heaved him bodily out the still open front door. The man sprawled on the packed dirt of the street outside. After a moment he gingerly picked himself up and walled off into the night, sending one venomous glance backward at Aidan. “Asmodeus will have what is his, vampire! And I’ll take if for him from your dead body!” said the man.

“I don’t think so,” said Aidan. “Maybe your master should start looking over his shoulder, because I’m getting tired of his threats. Maybe it’s his dead body that will result from this. You tell him that.”

He stepped back inside, suddenly feeling tired and drained. Shauna closed the door, looking at him with curiosity. “What was that all about?”

“An old enemy of mine. I thought he was dead, but looks like he’s still kicking. I’m going to have to do something about him one of these days.” His anger faded away, leaving the depression again. He sighed. “I’m sorry Shauna. Sorry about that thug, sorry about tonight, I’m just sorry.”

“Well I’m not.” She looked at him, and her eyes softened. “I know you feel bad about what happened, and, well, I wish you weren’t so hurt by it. A lot of guys, they don’t think anything of that sort of thing. So long as nobody knows, it’s just fine. I guess your family matters more to you than that. I’m sorry if you and your wife split up over this, but if she deserves you at all she’ll love you enough to forgive you, that’s what I think. I didn’t know how much this would upset you. But I’d still do it again the same way if I had it to do over.”

Aidan sighed. “I wouldn’t. It’s…” he looked for the right words again. “It’s not you, it’s just… Flame Song means everything to me, and I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

“You could come here,” said Shauna. “But I don’t think you will.” She shook her head. Then she swayed slightly.

Aidan looked at her, his eyes going to the two little red marks on her neck. He’d taken a lot more blood that he usually did with Flame Song. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She found a nearby chair and sat down. She put her hand to her head. “Just a little bit dizzy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You apologize too much.”

“I…”

“Hush, I’ll be fine. Dizziness isn’t the end of the world. I’m a little bit light-headed, that’s all.”

“I took more from you than I should have. I…”

She held up a hand. “If you’re going to say ‘I’m sorry’ again, don’t. I know you did, but I will be just fine. I’m not in any danger of dying on the spot. I’m a tough girl. Don’t worry about me.”

Aidan looked down at the floor, studying his bare feet for a while. When he looked up at last, he said, “I think I should go now.”

Shauna nodded. “You’ll probably want your boots then. And your belt and daggers.”

“Yes.”

She got up and went to get them, glaring at Aidan when he moved as if to help her up. She came back and handed over belt, daggers, and boots. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

He shrugged. “I’ll survive. The cold doesn’t bother me.” He buckled on the belt and slipped the boots onto his feet. Then without a word he turned and opened the door to go. Her voice, sounding suddenly soft and small stopped him

“Aidan,” she said, and he turned around, tension written in his face. What more could she have to say?

“Aidan… do you hate me?”

He sighed and some of the tension went out of him. “No, I don’t hate you. You didn’t mean for this to come out the way it did. I… I wish you well. But,” he added softly, “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here again.”

“Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye.” He stepped out the door and without waiting he leaped skyward, his wings catching the gentle night breeze and carrying him upward.