"Are you still angry, or can I ask questions now?"

Lucian raised his head slowly from the wet mess he was mopping up and eyed the woman seated on the table. It was where he'd put her. It kept Leigh out of his way, kept her feet from getting in the way as he'd mopped up the spilled water, and kept her from causing any more havoc. If he could have, he would have put her out in the yard with Julius. Fortunately for her, even he wasn't that much of a bastard.

His gaze slid over her, taking in her damp, slicked-back hair, her clean face, and the overlarge terry-cloth robe she wore. One such robe hung from a hook on the back of every bathroom door in this house, he knew. Though whether she'd donned it because she hadn't heard his shout to borrow clothes from Lissianna's closet or had just refused to do so, he couldn't say. He hadn't asked. He'd been a little put out since she entered the kitchen.

Lucian turned his attention back to the mop, lifting it to dip it in the bucket. He swished it around before shifting it into the wringer now hooked onto the bucket's side.

Leigh had found the mop and wringer in the kitchen closet while he knelt in the center of the flooded floor, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared at the mess with exhausted disbelief.

She'd even started to mop up the mess, but then he stood, picked her up by the waist, set her down a little roughly on the table, and took the mop from her.

In truth, the mop was a godsend, and Lucian wished he'd seen it before he started cleaning. It made the job much easier and faster.

The knowledge minimized some of his anger, and he growled, "Ask."

A relieved little sigh slid from Leigh's lips and she asked, "Am I really a vampire?"

Lucian's hands froze on the mop and he glanced at her with surprise. "You doubt it? You haven't noticed anything different?"

Understanding struck him when Leigh looked away, and he said, "It's tempting to deny it to yourself, but it won't change anything. It just delays your coming to grips -- and learning to live -- with it."

"I suppose you're right," Leigh acknowledged unhappily as he went back to mopping. He glimpsed her sitting up, straightening her shoulders, and raising her head, then she said, "Okay, so I'm a vampire."

"Yes." Lucian said solemnly, and added, "But we dislike that name."

She shrugged that aside with a little movement of her shoulders. "I gather this means I'll now live forever and never age?"

Lucian rung out the mop again as he considered how to answer her question.

"Probably not forever," he said finally, as he slapped the mop to the floor. "But so long as you aren't decapitated or trapped in a fire, your life has been greatly prolonged and you won't age, or get sick, or even get cavities."

"Yeah?" she asked with interest. "No cavities?"

Lucian shook his head.

"Hmm." After a pause to consider that, she asked, "What about a reflection?"

Lucian glanced over with confusion. "Reflection?"

"Will it fade now? And if so, how long will that take to happen? I don't wear much makeup, but I do wear lipstick, and I don't want to walk around with it lopsided, or on my teeth." She frowned. "And what about spinach?"

"Spinach?" He had just grasped her concern about a reflection, but she lost him again with the spinach bit.

"Well, you know how when you eat a spinach salad? Or cooked spinach? And a bit of it gets caught between your teeth? And you walk around all day looking like an idiot until you see yourself in a mirror and see it caught there?"

"No, I don't know about that," he said dryly, but her eyes had already widened with thoughts of a new horror.

"Without a reflection you could walk around with that bit of spinach caught in the corner of your teeth for years, even decades, or -- "

"Your reflection won't fade," Lucian interrupted before she worked herself up further.

"Oh... good." She looked relieved. Lucian shook his head and went back to what he was doing, only to have her ask, "Can I turn into a wolf, or a bunch of rats, or bats or -- "

"No," he interrupted, wondering where mortals got these ideas. Unfortunately, he knew where. Movies and books, all of which could be traced back to that damned Bram Stoker. If Jean Claude hadn't --

"Can we fly?" Leigh asked, interrupting his musings.

"No."

Leigh was silent long enough that Lucian glanced her way. Her expression was disappointed.

He cared less that she was disappointed than that he finally had respite from her questions.

He pushed the mop absently around as he peered at her. She was swinging her legs back and forth like a child as she considered what she'd learned so far, and her terry-cloth robe was parting at the knees, revealing her thighs halfway up her legs. It was sexy as hell, and for some reason that irritated him. Scowling, Lucian turned back to his mop, telling himself his irritation was because she was driving him crazy with her questions. He was starting to recall why it had been so long since he'd helped initiate a new turn. He simply didn't have the patience for it.

"What can we do, then?" Leigh asked finally. "I mean, I know the downside; no sunlight, stay out of churches and avoid crosses, because I'm now cursed and soulless, but -- "

"We are not cursed," Lucian said shortly. "We can go in churches without bursting into flames and we can touch crosses. We can also go out in sunlight, we just have to drink more blood to make up for it."

Leigh blinked in surprise, then frowned. "Are you sure? I mean it's not that I believe every movie I see or anything, but until Morgan bit me, I didn't believe in vampires either, and the movies all seem to suggest churches and sunlight aren't healthy for vampires."

"Immortal," he corrected automatically.

"And Morgan and his people all slept in coffins," she went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "If the rest of it isn't true, why the coffins? Do I need to keep a bit of the soil of my homeland in the coffin with me?"

Lucian grimaced at the memory of the more than twenty coffins in the basement of the house, resting places for Morgan and his turns. It had been a long while since his people slept in coffins to avoid exposure to the sun. Some had done it as a protective measure in the days when homes were drafty edifices with cracks that allowed the sun in, but that was long ago. Still, it was common for one of their kind who had gone rogue to use the old mythology brought about by books and movies to control their followers. They usually claimed they were their sire, could read their minds, and know whether they were faithful or not. All of which was true, actually.

However, they also let them think they were now one of the soulless, walking dead, and didn't tell them they could walk in daylight and enter churches and such. Rogues and their followers usually lived the life of a vamp in a bad movie; shunning sunlight, feeding off the living, and making slaves and sycophants of their followers.

Lucian had no idea why some went that way while others didn't. It was as if they just snapped after living so long and witnessing so much. He had known immortals who were fine for a thousand years and then suddenly went rogue. Others had turned after only a couple of centuries, but however long it took, they snapped and became the darker version of their kind, using and abusing mortals, and ultimately turning as many as they could to create their own cult of worshippers. Lucian didn't understand the whys of it, although he'd noted that they were always single immortals who had either lost or not yet found their life mates. Since he fit into that group, he found it all rather worrisome. He didn't want to turn that way. He had Marguerite and the kids to worry about. Someone had to keep an eye on them now that Jean Claude was gone.

Wringing out the mop one final time, Lucian carried it and the wringer to the closet to hang them up, then collected the bucket and carried it to the sink to empty.

"Movies and books are just that -- fictional tales meant for entertainment," he said tartly. He hated to repeat himself or have the validity of what he said be questioned.

"So we really aren't cursed and soulless and we can go out in sunlight." She said the words slowly, and he suspected she didn't believe him.

A little put out at her still doubting him, he turned, lifted her off the table, then caught her hand and led her to the back door. Pushing open the screen door, he walked outside, tugging her behind him.

"There," he said firmly as Julius rushed over to them. "It's morning and you're outside and you haven't burst into flames."

Leigh shifted on her bare feet in the grass, her gaze dropping to Julius as she petted the beast, then up to the sky overhead.

"Yeah, but it's not really morning yet, the sky is mostly dark," she pointed out.

Flapping his hands in exasperation, Lucian turned to march back into the house. He paused at the door and called out to Julius, but the dog simply ran off to the back of the yard. Apparently he wasn't ready to come inside. Shrugging, Lucian entered the house, and was back at the sink, rinsing the bucket out, when he heard the door open and close as Leigh came back in.

"But I do believe you," she announced as if he needed reassurance. "And it's... well, it's good."

Lucian felt his mouth twitch at the understatement, but killed it. Then he gave in to the offered olive branch and said, "You can go out in sunlight, but I do not recommend you do so again for a while."

"Why?"

"You are still in the turning and will be for a while. During that time you'll already need a lot of blood. There's no need to add to it by going outside."

"Why do I need a lot of blood?" she asked.

"While you're turning, your body uses up more blood than it will once it's done."

"Why?"

Lucian frowned. It was like talking to a ten-year-old. Why? Why? Why? Repressing his impatience, he explained, "Because the blood is needed to repair any damage incurred over the last -- " He paused to glance at her, then guessed. " -- Twenty-six years."

"Thirty," Leigh corrected with a grin. "But thank you for the compliment."

Her grin made Lucian want to smile. He scowled instead and turned back to the sink as he continued, "Your body will be busy repairing any damage to your skin, liver, kidneys, lungs, heart... " He shrugged. "It will also be using the extra blood to improve your eyesight, hearing, strength, speed -- "

"Improve?" she interrupted with interest. "You mean I'll be able to hear and see better and I'll be stronger and faster?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Kind of like Superman. I guess that's cool. At least there are some perks with this deal."

Lucian set the bucket in the sink and glanced over his shoulder with disbelief. "Some perks? What part of never aging, never getting sick, and living hundreds -- possibly thousands -- of years, didn't you understand?"

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but all she said was, "You're cute when you're grumpy."

Lucian was still blinking over the comment when she asked, "So it will improve me and needs the extra blood at first to do so?"

He stared for another moment, trying to figure out if she really found his grumpiness cute or if she was teasing him. Unable to tell from her expression, he muttered under his breath and turned back to the sink. Tugging the bandanna off his head, he tossed it on the counter.

"Is that right?" she persisted.

"Yes," Lucian said shortly as he removed the bandanna that had covered the lower part of his face. The rubber gloves and apron followed, leaving him clad in only the muck-covered black jeans.

"Okay. But why does that mean I should stay out of the sun?"

"Because any exposure to sunlight causes damage," he explained, jaw tight. Turning his back to the sink, he added, "Your body will use extra blood and resources to try to repair that damage, which will slow down your turning. It's better to avoid it until your turning is done."

"Oh, I see," Leigh said slowly, and he noticed her eyes seemed preoccupied with roving over his bare chest. She thought his grumpiness was cute and seemed fascinated with his chest. Lucian found himself straightening, his chest puffing up like a male peacock preening for her admiration. Disgusted with himself, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms self-consciously over his naked chest. Leigh blinked as he ruined her view. She glanced quickly to his face, flushing guiltily on realizing she'd been caught ogling him. In the next moment that expression was replaced with recognition.

"You are the third man from the kitchen," she said.

Lucian merely grunted an acknowledgment and turned to finish rinsing the bucket, then put it away in the cupboard under the sink. The floor was streaked from the dirty water, but he'd done enough. He'd call in a service to clean it properly when they opened... which was only in a couple hours he noted, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall.

Lucian supposed that meant he'd have to stay awake awhile yet. The idea wasn't a pleasing one. Other than two short catnaps, he'd been awake since six o'clock the night before last. It was now just after six o'clock in the morning, almost twenty-four hours after they'd hit Morgan's house in Kansas, thirty-six since he'd slept. He desperately needed sleep. He also wanted a nice long soak in a tub to remove the grimy feel coating his skin.

"If this isn't some curse, what is it?" Leigh asked, slipping off the table to follow when he headed out of the kitchen.

Lucian heaved a sigh as he pushed through the kitchen door. He understood she had questions, but he was too tired to be bothered with them. It was time to try again to find someone else to deal with her. He began running through a list of people in his head, trying to decide whom to enlist.

There was Thomas, but the little shit still wasn't answering his phone. Marguerite was in Europe. Lucern and Kate were in New York, as were Bastien and Terri. That left Etienne and Rachel, Lissianna and Greg, and Thomas's sister, Jeanne Louise.

Lucian frowned over his choices. Lissianna would have been his first choice if she weren't pregnant. Very pregnant. Lissianna was his favorite. She'd proven herself less prone to being cowed by him than her brothers. The girl had even yelled at him a time or two. He respected her for that, and smiled to himself now at the memory.

No, he wouldn't bother Lissianna this close to giving birth to his first grandniece or nephew. As for Etienne and Rachel... well, Rachel still hadn't forgiven him for threatening to have her terminated when she refused to do what they asked when she'd first been turned and got involved with Etienne. Anytime he found himself in the same room as the volatile redhead, she glared at him like he was the devil incarnate. He'd rather not have her filling Leigh's head with nonsense about him.

That left Jeanne Louise.

"Lucian?"

He paused on the stairs and glanced back with surprise. It was the first time Leigh had spoken his name. He hadn't even known she knew it, but supposed she overheard it while he was talking to Marguerite on the speaker phone. Her soft voice speaking his name caused an odd fluttering in his chest. Pushing away the sensation, he raised his eyebrows in question.

Leigh paused several steps below him and rephrased the question he hadn't answered. "What are we if not cursed?"

His gaze slid over her in the over large terry-cloth robe. She was short, almost a foot shorter than he. She was also a bundle of luscious curves, he noted with an interest he hadn't experienced in quite a while. Disturbed by the effect she was having on him, he turned and continued upstairs. "Immortals," he told her again.

"Immortals," Leigh echoed, her mind wrapping itself around the word. It was the second time he'd said it. She didn't think he meant immortals like in the movie Highlander, but it didn't really answer her question. It didn't explain what she now was. Or how they were the way they were if it wasn't a curse.

Leigh glanced up, mouth open to ask for clarification, but Lucian had continued upstairs and was now disappearing along the hall. Scowling, she hurried after the half-naked man, catching up as he entered the room next to the one she'd woken in.

"But how are we immortals?" she asked as she caught the door before it swung shut in her face. She took several steps into the room before stopping, her gaze jumping nervously to the big bed against the wall, then away.

Lucian didn't seem surprised that she'd trailed him into the room. He just shook his head and moved to the phone.

"Well?" she asked, growing impatient.

"I'm getting you the answer." Lucian picked up the phone and pressed several buttons until -- presumably -- he got a dial tone. This time it wasn't over speaker phone, she noted, as he punched in a number from memory. They both stood waiting as he pressed the phone to his ear, but after enough time had passed for a couple dozen rings to have sounded without it being picked up, he hung up and punched in another number, then waited again.

Leigh shifted impatiently, but made herself wait. It seemed to her that he should know the answer to the question, but it was obvious he wanted someone else to do the explaining. Perhaps there were some embarrassing issues to it, she thought, then glanced to Lucian as he hung up again and tried once more.

"Marguerite?" Lucian said finally, sounding terribly relieved.

Leigh peered at him with surprise. From the earlier conversation she'd listened in on, she knew that this Marguerite was in Europe. Why was he calling her?

"No, no, Julius is fine." Lucian scowled with irritation. "No I -- Marguerite, I just called because the girl is asking questions... Well, I thought you could explain things to her."

Lucian pulled the phone away from his ear as Marguerite's irritated voice buzzed back through the phone loud enough for Leigh to hear. His mouth tightened, then he turned away from her, put the phone back to his ear and said, "I know it's not like explaining men's knees to a teenage daughter... Menses," he corrected quickly. "Whatever, but -- "

He paused and slapped his hand impatiently against his leg as he listened, then said, "Yes, of course I know you're in Europe, I called you remember... Yes, yes, I know it's long distance. I'll pay for the damned call."

Lucian stiffened as he listened to whatever Marguerite was saying, and Leigh found her gaze traveling over the tensed muscles of his naked back. The moment he'd removed the bandanna from his face in the kitchen, she had recognized him as the third man from the kitchen. It had been a relief, actually. At least she'd put the right face on the man in her fantasy.

Leigh rolled her eyes at her own thoughts.

"There are more important issues here than your waking wet dreams in the shower," she reprimanded herself under her breath. Really, her thinking seemed terribly scattered since she'd woken up. She had to wonder if it was a side effect of the change. She still had no idea where she was, or who he was... Why was he helping her? Or was he even trying to help her? How would all of this affect her life now? Would she find herself suddenly biting waiters instead of tipping them?

That thought gave her pause. She couldn't imagine biting anyone, and briefly considered she might, instead, be reduced to biting someone's little fluffy white dog like the character in the Anne Rice movie, but she couldn't imagine doing that either. Dogs were so cute... and what if they had fleas? And, really, they rolled around in the grass and dirt, who knew what they had in their fur?

Leigh heaved a sigh. The questions running through her mind were endless. She knew now that she wasn't cursed, couldn't do anything cool or freaky, like fly or morph into a wolf, but she wanted to understand what exactly she was now. Was she still human? And if so, how could she now live so long, and not age, and not get sick, and not get cavities and so on?

A small sound from Lucian drew her attention back to him. He no longer had his back to her, but had turned to face her, a stunned look on his face, the hand holding the phone forgotten at his side.

"What?" she asked warily.

"You had a wet dream in the shower?" he asked.

Leigh immediately flushed and cursed herself for muttering under her breath. If he had been anyone else, he never would have heard her. But Lucian wasn't anyone else, he was an immortal like she was becoming. He'd said her senses would improve... including her hearing. So his was obviously superior. Great.

There were only two options here, she realized. Either she lied and denied it, or brazened it out. It wasn't like he knew he had played a key part in the shower action.

Shoulders straightening, she took on an uncaring expression. "Sure. What? You've never had a wet dream?"

"Was I in it?"

Leigh's eyes went wide and she gasped with horror, "What?"

A squawking from the phone drew his attention back to it, and he lifted it to his ear, listened for a minute, then sighed. "I don't want to explain it myself, Marguerite. I haven't slept in thirty-six hours. I've spent all night cleaning up your house. She wants answers but I'm filthy and want a shower and -- What?"

The way Lucian stiffened made Leigh's eyebrows rise, then he said, "I haven't done anything to your house, Marguerite. I was cleaning up the mess Julius made when he broke out of the kitchen." He listened for another thirty seconds, then shifted uncomfortably. "Marguerite, I don't want to have to spend the next hour explaining -- " He tsked impatiently. "No, I can't control her mind and make her wait. I can't get into her thoughts." He paused, then gave a snort. "No, Marguerite, that isn't what it means. It means I'm tired." Lucian made an impatient gesture, then said, "I'm going to take a shower, Marguerite. Here's Leigh."

Her eyes widened in surprise as the phone was suddenly shoved into her hand. Before she could protest, Lucian had turned, walked into the bedroom's adjoining bathroom, and slammed the door. Leigh stared at the closed door for a moment, then raised the phone to her ear and said uncertainly, "Hello?"

There was a moment of silence, then a long sigh, and Marguerite said, "Leigh?"

"Yes."

"He's impossible, isn't he?"

Leigh hesitated, all her protective instincts coming to the fore. For some reason, she wanted to defend the man. "It sounds to me like he's just tired."

"Hmmm." Silence buzzed along the line, then Marguerite asked, "What do you think of him?"

"Well... " Leigh hesitated. Her first thought was that she hardly knew him, but then she realized she did know a thing or two. She knew he had taken on the burden of taking care of her during the turn when he needn't have bothered. She knew he was brave enough to go after the rogue vampires rather than relax and enjoy the good health he had.

"Leigh? Are you still there?" Marguerite asked, and Leigh cleared her throat.

"Yes. Sorry. Er... he seems strong and brave and caring and concerned."

"Excuse me?" Marguerite asked, sounding surprised. "Caring and concerned, did you say?"

Leigh frowned as she recalled his reaction when he'd found her under the bed, his pulling her out and putting her back in bed again. He'd said she was too weak to be up and about. And he'd brought her food... well, dog food, but then she was getting the distinct impression that he didn't eat much.

"Yes, caring and concerned," Leigh said firmly, then tried to think what else she knew about him.

She knew he wasn't afraid to look like an idiot in odd getups, so she supposed he wasn't vain. He seemed well-spoken -- when he spoke -- and he tended toward grumpiness, or seemed to.

Leigh suspected it was just a shield, a way to keep others from getting too close. She knew how that worked. When she was on the run she'd had to pull on a mask to keep anyone from getting too close. She'd always had her guard up, and to keep people at arm's length she acted cold and what some would have said was bitchy, though that wasn't in her nature. It had been fear-driven, and it made her wonder why Lucian felt he needed a shield to keep people at a distance.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Leigh tried to think what else she could say. The only thing that came to mind was that he looked damned good half-naked.

"Half-naked?" Marguerite asked with interest, and Leigh blinked. Had she spoken aloud? It was a bad habit she had. Usually, she muttered and no one could hear what she was saying, but -- like Lucian -- Marguerite was an immortal with exceptional hearing.

"Leigh?" Marguerite said after a moment of uncomfortable silence had passed between them.

"Yes?" she asked warily.

Marguerite hesitated, then said, "He may seem grumpy and miserable, but he's a good man. My husband, his twin brother, always said that before Lucian lost his wife and two young children, he was always smiling and laughing. I think the grumpiness is just his way of keeping people at a distance."

Leigh blinked. It was exactly what she'd thought moments ago, except that she hadn't known about his wife. She asked, "His wife and children?"

"Yes." Marguerite said quietly. "It was a very long time ago. Before I married his brother."

Leigh considered this news, then asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he can't read you," Marguerite said simply.

"I don't understand," Leigh said warily.

"I know." She sighed. "There is so much you have to learn about us; too much for me to explain over the phone. But don't worry. I'll take care of everything. I'm going to call my daughter and she'll help you understand everything. It's probably better this way anyway. Lucian could never understand what we women would think is important to know."

"Okay," Leigh said slowly.

"I'll call her as soon as I hang up, but in the meantime just know you are safe and everything will be fine. All right, dear?"

"Yes," Leigh murmured. "Thank you."

"Okay, I'm going to hang up and call Rachel. You should hear from her shortly after that. You might want to put a pot of coffee on. She's a big fan of coffee."

"Okay," Leigh murmured again.

"Welcome to the family, Leigh," she said, and while Leigh was still blinking in confusion over that, Marguerite hung up.

Leigh listened to the dial tone for a moment and then she, too, hung up. She stood for a minute, unsure what to do. Lucian had told her to find clean clothes in the closet. She'd felt self-conscious about using someone's clothes without their permission, so had chosen to don the terry-cloth robe she'd found hanging from a hook on the bathroom door. Now she felt she would be more comfortable being dressed when this Rachel arrived. On the other hand, she would hardly be comfortable if it turned out to be Rachel's clothes she was borrowing.

Grimacing, she hurried to the closet. Relief coursed through her when she opened the door and saw the row of men's clothes. She'd feel better borrowing something of Lucian's. She would rather be swimming in clothes far too large than meeting Rachel in the woman's own clothes, borrowed without permission.

After rifling through the clothes, she chose a pair of jogging pants, then turned to the shelves on the side of the large closet and pulled a t-shirt from the stack. Leigh knew she'd swim in anything of Lucian's, but at least the joggers had a drawstring she could pull tight to keep up. Taking the clothes with her, she hurried to the room she was beginning to think of as her own, where she doffed the robe and donned what she'd selected. As she'd expected, they were far too large, but she pulled the drawstring tight, and decided it would have to do as she headed for the kitchen.

Leigh had no idea how long she had until Rachel arrived, and she wanted to get the coffee going before then.

The cupboards in the kitchen were mostly empty. There were things like salt, pepper, flour, and sugar, and there were some condiments in the refrigerator, but there was little real food other than that. She wasn't surprised.

It wasn't until she checked the stainless steel storage jars on the counter that Leigh found what she was looking for. They were unlabeled, but one held powdered milk, one held tea bags, another sugar, and the third and largest held coffee. Just enough for two pots by her guess.

Leigh made the coffee, then paced the room as she waited for it to finish dripping. Questions were lining up in her mind like soldiers in formation, one after the other marching across her thoughts. If they weren't cursed, what were they? How would her life be affected now?

Her gaze lifted to the ceiling several times as she paced, and each time a scowl claimed her lips. She understood that Lucian was tired, but it was hard not to be impatient with the lack of answers and the need to wait for this Rachel when he could easily answer her questions.

When the coffee machine buzzed, announcing that the coffee was done, she moved out of the kitchen and up the hall to peer out at the driveway that circled in front of the house. There was no sign of Rachel yet and no sign of a car approaching up the road that she could see. Leigh clucked her teeth impatiently, then glanced toward the stairwell.

Surely Lucian was out of the shower by now? Perhaps cleaning up had refreshed him, made him feel more like talking. She could always go see... maybe take him a cup of coffee to sweeten him up.

Biting her lip, Leigh peered out at the driveway and the road beyond again. There was still no sign of an approaching car. She'd just pour a couple coffees, and if Rachel hadn't arrived by then, she'd take a cup to Lucian and ask a question or two until the other woman did arrive.