At the same moment that the dark Aidan was winging his way into the night, leaving the bloody scene in the monastery basement behind in body, if not in mind, his double was sitting in a dim cell in the basement of the half ruined castle. When he had first awoken in the dank room he had been confident of his ability to escape without any difficulty. A brief examination of the door however, showed that he had been mistaken. Instead of a keyhole, the door had a hexagonal indentation in the lock plate. He’d encountered a few such during his years as an active member of the thieves’ guild. It was a magical lock that would open only at the touch of a certain rod on which the matching spell had been cast. There were ways to foil a magical lock, but they all required preparations he hadn’t made and tools he didn’t have.

So he had resigned himself to a lengthy stay. He could only hope that his wife had fared better than he had. The fact that by the time three days had passed she hadn’t been thrown into the cell along with him he took to be a good sign. From time to time the other Flame Song peered in at him through a tiny barred window. He found it rather disturbing how much she looked like his wife. Her bearing and habitual expressions were vastly different, but her features were precisely the same. It was downright eerie at times.

So far she hadn’t said anything to him, she simply stared for a while, then left. Her visits were the only variety in his confined existence, though he didn’t exactly look forward to them. There was no delivery of meals, and the traditional prisoner’s fare of bread and water would have done him little good had it been provided. His nutritional needs were quite different, and they were beginning to become a problem. He usually fed about every other night, and as he hadn’t fed the night he’d been captured, it had now been four full days since he’d last eaten. Hunger was a constant gnawing presence in his stomach and he was beginning to wonder how long he could hold out. The longest he’d ever gone without food before had been six days, and by the end he’d been in a sorry state.

He was sitting on the floor and counting the stones in the opposite wall out of sheer boredom when he heard two sets of footsteps approaching his cell. His keen hearing could distinguish them clearly. One set belonged to the mirror Flame Song, the other was a heavier tread that he’d heard dimly overhead before. He presumed it must belong to some servant or companion of his captor. Both sets of feet halted before his door. Then the door swung inward. The figure that stepped in through the open door was massive. The dim light was more than sufficient for Aidan’s sensitive eyes to identify the creature that loomed over him as a male minotaur. His bovine head, complete with an impressive spread of horns, cast a shadow over Aidan. He reached down and closed one huge hand over Aidan’s arm and hauled him to his feet. Standing, Aidan barely came up to the minotaur’s chest. As a vampire his strength was far greater than his size indicted so he might have fought the minotaur and won, despite the difference in size, but he wasn’t sure of it. And besides, he still had his mission. He might get some opportunity to discover how the mirror couple had known he and his wife were coming.

So he came along meekly enough as Flame led the way through crumbling corridors and into a section of the castle that was in better repair. He recognized the hallway where he’d been captured. Flame led the way down the hall and into the room at the end with the minotaur still towing Aidan along. Once they were inside the minotaur released him and left, shutting the door behind him without a word.

Aidan took a moment to survey the room. It was lavishly decorated in dark colors, a deep red predominating. A full-length mirror hung on one wall and its reflection of the room showed Flame Song but neglected to reflect Aidan. The dominating feature of the room, however, was a huge four-poster bed. Together with the seductive smile that his wife’s double was aiming in his direction the bed gave him an unpleasant suspicion. She was eyeing him from head to toe with a lascivious look that his own Flame Song would never have shown, especially not to someone other than her husband.

Apparently she liked what she saw. Aidan was still without his shirt, as his double had taken it in order to impersonate him. He was wearing only his trousers and the black iron collar that he never removed. His feet were bare, which was quite habitual for him. As a vampire he didn’t feel the cold, so he seldom bothered with footwear, especially when sneaking, as a squeaky shoe could get him into a lot of trouble. As far as he was concerned the only purpose for boots was to have somewhere to hide a boot dagger and a couple of lock picks. His shirtless figure was slightly built and very lean, but well muscled nevertheless. His face was clean-shaven despite three days without access to a razor. He’d discovered since becoming a vampire that his hair no longer grew, which was convenient since it would have been difficult to shave without the use of a mirror.

His wings were folded tightly against his back, the aerian equivalent in body language of folding one’s arms closely. He was downright unnerved by the situation, but tried to return the mirror Flame’s appraising gaze without flinching. She was dressed in a clinging low-cut gown of green velvet. Her hair was loose about her shoulders and her intense green eyes bored into his own. She stepped closer to him and he involuntarily backed up a step. She laughed, a low, throaty sound, and moved in closer. Aidan took only two more steps before he found his back to the wall. She had him cornered and she took advantage of it. She ran her fingers down his bare chest, stopping when she reached his belt line and lingering for a moment before going up again. He pressed back against the wall. Anger or attack he could have dealt with, but this? She laughed again and said, “You’re quite handsome. I’d say you were more handsome than my husband, but you’d know I was lying.” She ran her hands through her hair and tilted her head back in a sensual motion that emphasized the line of her neck. “Am I not beautiful?” she said. He realized he was staring and broke off his gaze. Inwardly he was repeating to himself, this is not my wife, this is not my wife. She stepped close again and kissed him. He turned his head away and she began kissing his cheek and neck and nibbling on his ear. Despite himself his own body was responding to what she was doing. He could hear the rush of her heart, smell the heady scent of her, and it was impossible to ignore. He stepped to the side, trying to break free. She let him, smiling in amusement at his flushed face. He got away from the wall and moved closer to the middle of the room.

She advanced on him again and again he helplessly backed away. His head was in a whirl, he couldn’t think straight. “I know you,” she said, that seductive smile still on her lips. “I know your every weakness, your every want and desire. I know you want me. There’s no point in resisting. You can’t deny your feelings. Listen to them, they are telling you what you really want.” With every word she stepped closer and he backed away. It was only when the edge of the bed bumped against the back of his legs that he realized she’d been maneuvering him into position.

She advanced on him and the only place to go was onto the bed, which he did not want to do. He stood frozen by his confusion as she pressed her body to his. She kissed him again on the lips. Her arms went around him and she whispered again, “I know what you need.” He tried to calm himself, tried to remember who she was, who he was. This wasn’t right! Then she lifted her hand to her own neck and one long manicured fingernail dug into her throat. She broke the skin and a few red drops oozed out. Aidan stared. Huger rose up in him and mingled with the storm of emotion that enveloped him. Four days was a long time. His hunger was terribly, horrifyingly strong, and for him blood was more than simply food. The hunger he felt was a mixture of ordinary craving and passionate desire. He tried to force it away, but it insisted. The scent of blood seemed heavy in the air, despite the few drops that caused it. He wanted… he needed… and at last he could deny his hunger no longer. With a low moan he fell on her neck, his fangs opening deeper wounds from which her blood freely flowed.

He was immediately aware of her mind touching his. Or no, not touching, engulfing, drawing him in. Her emotions were strong, and the blaze of pure physical passion that poured from her was impossible to resist. He was drawn into it, his own passion rising. He lost all thought, all memory, all consciousness of right or wrong. He knew nothing but the intensity of the feelings that spiraled upward in a feedback loop of pleasure.

What they did then was not making love. Love didn’t enter into it. The emotions that lay beneath the sea of the dark Flame Song’s passion were not love and tenderness, they were instead a twisted mixture of fascination, contempt, and an overpowering desire to control. The pleasure they shared was tainted and dark and when at last it was over and Aidan came back to himself he turned away from her, curled up into a ball of misery, and wept.

The mirror Flame Song rose from the bed. She watched him for a while, and Aidan was sure the look of sardonic amusement he’d first seen on her face was back. He stayed where he was with his eyes shut, tears trickling down his cheeks, but he heard her move away from the bed and could tell by the change in her footsteps that she had shifted into her firecat form. She must be feeling some weakness from blood loss, but she obviously wasn’t going to show it to him. Her soft padding steps went out the door and it shut behind her.