d'Ark

By M Phillips

Publishers Weekly - Originality and history you certainly didn't learn in school.

A dark tale of ultimate loss and betrayal. A beloved heroine, a saint struggles with deep faith, fighting to control adolescent desires, and a damned existence as a monster.

Joan doesn't plan to fall for the young man, but does in spite of her own protests. This girl Jordan seems to be a problem. Michel is dead set on protecting her. Men!
What's a five hundred year old vampire to do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M Phillips
• Release date: Nov 7, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452411613

M Phillips

M Phillips has prowled the back alleys of Bangkok, gasped at the beauty of Singapore, admired Hong Kong, and pondered the mystique of the Japanese culture. These experiences provided the tools, the love for 'Joan of Arc', "Dracula", and all things Anne Rice drive a desire to weave, a legend.

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d'Ark

M Phillips

Published by M Phillips at Smashwords

Copyright © M Phillips 2009

Copyright Cover Photography © Gunnar Skarbrevik 2009

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is available in print at Amazon.com

For Misty

1993 - 2010

Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please.

Rudyard Kipling

From sea to sea; Letters of Travel

PREFACE

I shamed lords into action, inspired legions to greatness, and crowned a king. At my execution doves soared, brave men wept, the masters of God’s children cried out, and my heart was forever lost to me. My death defied an invading army.

I no longer dwell in the light of man. I now skulk in their shadows, a whisper; that slightest of shivers you can’t explain. I am a cold, barren husk of what I was in life. I look upon men with scorn and venom in my veins. My use and concern for them perished with me in the flames. Now, I am the monster that all men fear.

1. MICHAEL

The piercing sound of sirens tore me from a restless sleep for the third time this week. My heart felt heavy. I knew it could be something as benign as a traffic accident, but I didn’t really believe it. Monday, they found the body of a freshman on campus. I hadn’t met him so it seemed surreal to me, distant, something to haunt my dreams. Tuesday hit a little closer to home. Another body had been found; it was Jeff. I had seen him around campus and even said, Hi a couple of times. That strips the surrealism away, like a bandage tangled in your arm hair. Someone you saw regularly and now never would.

I didn’t even bother with breakfast; I already had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I bit the inside of my cheeks until the wave of nausea passed, hoping it was just an unfortunate wreck with no one injured. I limped outside. As I turned to lock my apartment door my name badge slipped from my fingers, and I lost my cane trying to grab it. I took a slow, deep breath, held tightly onto the doorknob for support, and bent my knees deeply to retrieve them. I wiped my thumb across the name badge to get the mud off, pausing on the L in ‘MICHAEL.’ It was almost illegible.

I sloshed cautiously through the puddles left by the thunderstorms. I climbed into my truck, tossing my cane on the seat, and drove to school. I took the long way today. Monday and Tuesday had taken me by the sites of the deaths on the west side of the campus. Wednesday had been quiet, but today I decided to come in from the east side. I didn’t see any wrecks or ongoing police activity.

A patrol car squealed out of the police station and almost smashed into me. I slammed hard on the breaks and fishtailed, fighting hard to recover, hoping not to go into a spin. I shouldn’t have, but I grabbed my books on the seat so they wouldn’t be damaged by slamming onto the floor. I glanced out the windshield, fuming at the receding patrol car. My truck was almost straight when it finally came to a stop; the reek of burnt rubber permeated the air increasing my nausea.

Motorists honked and one shot me the finger. I concentrated on the traffic light, wondering if my face was as red as the light. The station sat right next to the campus, making me wonder what kind of sick freak could be responsible for the deaths. Depraved murderers having the audacity to kill this close to a police station didn’t bode well for us students, especially if the killer was stalking our campus. I shuddered slightly, shifted into first gear, and continued on my way when the light turned green.

I turned into the main drive of the campus toward my usual parking space. My trepidation increased tenfold as I parked. There were cop cars everywhere, and not the campus police. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach worsened. I climbed out, stretched painfully, and slowly plodded around the building following the sidewalks. My cane made a light squishing sound when my weight pushed on it. I slowed as I rounded the corner. I looked at the grass and back at the sidewalk that went right through the middle of the activity. I couldn’t risk the grass with all the rain. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. People were dying and I was worried about stubbing a toe. Naturally, I shouldn’t be here….

The police were all over the place and also an ambulance. Jerry, the campus cop that always helped me, was putting up police tape around the scene. This didn’t seem real; I saw a tarp over a body and body bag laying on a gurney nearby. I slowed even more and tried to skirt the edges. I stepped into the grass trying not to get in anyone’s way. A flash of lightning and crash of thunder startled me. Birds darted out of the trees in every direction. I missed my footing and went down hard. I fell in the wet grass with my head turned toward the tarp-covered body. A gust of wind flapped the corner up and the blood rushed from my face. I raised myself enough to vomit. I looked again; I couldn’t help it. I knew her. It was Jordan. Her face drained of color now was bone white. Her lifeless eyes bore into mine.

I vomited again, trying not to get it all over myself. I tried to get to my knees but slipped again on the rain soaked grass. A set of hands grabbed my arm and shoulder helping me to my feet. I kept my face turned away, the voices of the police seemed like they were just a dream.

Cover her up, damn it! And pin that tarp down! The female voice came from the hands that were helping me.

You okay?

I glanced again at Jordan’s body. They had covered her up again, but I could still see her eyes staring at me pleading, begging for her life, wanting someone to save her. I would never forget her eyes that way.

Let’s get you to a restroom so you can get cleaned up. I’m sorry about that. We didn’t do a good job of keeping things under wraps. I mean that literally. We do our best not to expose you kids to that kind of thing.

I finally managed to force my gaze away and looked at my rescuer. She had a pleasant face with blue eyes and light brown hair. That’s all I noticed, before I turned away gagging some more.

What happened to her neck? It was…. I shook slightly and couldn’t utter the words.

I wish you hadn’t seen that. I can’t give out any details. Did you know her? You seem pretty shaken. The woman continued to support me as she guided me to the restroom.

Yeah, she’s my rehab – well, we had a class together. I stopped and put my hand on a wall, unbidden sobs wracking my slim frame. She rubbed my shoulder trying to comfort me.

Restroom is right there. Think you can handle it from here? I have to get back over there. I’m in charge now. Need to make sure everything is done right so we can find and catch who’s responsible. I will talk to you later for some information when you’re calmer. The name’s Kincaid, Detective Kincaid. I heard the woman order Jerry to come help me.

I’m Michael, I barely whispered. Kincaid glanced at me briefly, so I think she heard me. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and spit out the junk still in my mouth. My stomach felt too sick for me to be embarrassed. I waved Jerry off and gave him a halfhearted smile.

I wandered into the restroom and pulled my spare tee shirt out of my bag. I stared into the mirror and closed my eyes tight. Even with them open I could still see Jordan’s face, but it seemed more horrifying with them shut. She had been so beautiful. She always kept me laughing through the pain of rehab. Jordan and I had our surgeries around the same time, so we were doing our rehab together. I let out a deep breath of air and struggled to regain my calm.

I tried to remember her eyes, always full of laughter. Now, all I could see was the pleading, frozen terror in their brown depths. I smashed my fist into the mirror. This was out of character for me, but I felt so helpless. Even if I had been there, I probably would have just died along with her.

At least she wouldn’t have died alone, I told myself. I blew the flecks of glass and dust off my knuckles, and then brushed them completely clean.

I made my way morosely to class, totally shaken by Jordan’s death. I didn’t know how I would get over it. She wasn’t my girlfriend or anything like that; there just were a couple of things we shared, geology class and rehab. She did come into the bookstore where I worked to get some books on geology, so she said. Jordan never bought one; she just looked at them and asked all kinds of questions, most I couldn’t answer. I’m a history buff. I only took geology because she did.

She had such a strong personality. Some idiot tried to pick on me once, and her eyes could have burned him to ash on the spot. I sighed and ambled to my next class, and the one after that, and then I finally went to my pre-calculus class. Eddie’s absence disappointed me. I knew he would be lurking around the crime scene. I shook involuntarily and tried to pay attention. At long last the day of turmoil wound down as I made it to my final class, I slumped into my chair unable to concentrate.

I was trying to enjoy my last year of school, especially since I was enrolled in an early college/high school program. I thought it was kind of cool completing two years of high school and college at the same time. We were laughed at a lot because we were the low-income kids, disadvantaged in some way. Jordan never laughed at me though, one of the things I liked about her. I always try to remind myself that life is good even when it doesn't seem like it. I have friends, a job, and a place of my own, all within walking distance. Now, I was one friend short.

This isn’t fair. Jordan’s death doesn’t make any sense, I whispered and wiped my eyes. I was studying for a degree in history; that way I could be around books all the time. Books are my favorite thing. It’s great to be able to study my favorite people in history. Anyway, with my gimp, chasing down books was my only option. I couldn’t exactly catch mobile prey like a news story or something.

Hey Michael, my buddy Eddie whispered. You okay? I saw, uh heard about Jordan. I didn’t answer. So Miguel, you going to work tonight? Eddie asked, teasing me with the Spanish version for my name. Eduardo was his actual name, but I couldn’t pronounce it, so I just called him Eddie.

Yeah, we received a new shipment yesterday, I whispered back, not paying attention.

I thought you might want to go see that new action flick, take your mind off things for awhile. Eddie nodded at me. Eddie Hernandez is my best friend in the world.

Eddie, I whispered back, glancing to make sure Mrs. Churchall didn’t see us. Thanks, but I have to work, I told him with a heavy sigh. Eddie just shrugged.

Okay Bro, let me know if you change your mind. Eddie slid back in his chair, letting me take the blame, again.

Mr. Born! Would you and Mr. Hernandez like to share your conversation with the rest of the class? I sighed heavily, too pre-occupied to be embarrassed.

No ma’am. Normally, I would have turned bright red as the whole class turned and looked at me, but all I could think of was Jordan’s eyes staring at me.

The bell sounded the end of class. This was the last one for the day, Medieval History. We were finally studying Medieval French history and my favorite person of all time, ‘Joan of Arc’, but I didn’t think I would get to enjoy it now. I grabbed my books, pushed myself upright, picked up my cane, and limped to the door. Mrs. Churchall gave me a stern stare on my way out. I just lowered my head and smiled. She immediately smiled back, most of my teachers loved me. I have an easy way with people. I could see the look of concern in her eyes.

I made it to the sidewalk. Eddie sprang out of the bushes and hit me in the shoulder. I lost my books, cane, everything. If Eddie hadn’t caught me and held me upright, I would have done a nose dive into the fountain. At least he had enough consideration to pick up my stuff and give my cane back.

I swear, Gringo, you really need to hit the gym. You’re a light weight, Eddie laughed and smacked me on the back. I stumbled forward and Eddie grabbed me again, laughing. This was Eddie’s way of trying to cheer me up, so I braved a grin.

I’m off to work. Enjoy the movie. You can tell me about it tomorrow, I said over my shoulder.

Sure thing Gringo! Later, Eddie laughed. He loved the fact that for a year he had tried to teach me the most rudimentary and basic parts of the Spanish language. I couldn’t even say, Hi, so Eddie called me the greenest Gringo he had ever met. I didn’t mind his friendly insult. In my opinion, everyone should get along. There are too many bad things in the world to have to worry about the little stuff. Like getting killed at your school where you are supposed to be safe.

I walked down the sidewalk as quickly as I could without falling. I really wanted to bury myself in the new books, anything to distract my mind. I looked to my left where the police tape still hung around the trees. Jordan’s body was gone now, and so were the police. I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I thought if I could just get to the bookstore and bury my sorrows in the books, I might endure it.

Finally, I reached the bookstore. I trudged through the doors and tossed my book bag under the counter. Megan, my manager, looked at me with concern when she saw my face. She was waiting on a customer, so I didn’t have to answer any questions.

I’ll be in the back. I want to unpack the new shipment. Megan just nodded at me.

I worked my way through the bookshelves, concentrating on the titles, putting back returned books, and stocking the new inventory I had unpacked. It almost helped to block out the memories of the morning.

I rubbed the back of my thigh. It was starting to hurt a little as it usually did toward the end of my shift. I walk with a noticeable lurch. I’ve had it for a few years now; but there are worse things that could happen to a guy.

I am an optimistic kid of eighteen, working at the college bookstore to get discounts on the books I wanted to buy. It was not my only reason, but my best reason. I had my disability income, but I needed the extra cash for gas and to eat occasionally. I put up the last of the books and limped to the front.

Hey, Megan, I finished putting away the new inventory. I also did some light dusting while I was at it. I’m going to clean the café area and be right back.

Megan gave me a nod and didn’t say anything, usual for her. Megan was the owner, a wonderful girl. I liked her, in a friend sort of way. I appreciated the fact she didn’t pry into my mood.

I did not like the café area being part of the store, so I always gave it as much attention as I could. I always made the final circuit of the evening past my favorite section, history. That is when I saw her for the first time. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. Her skin was so pale, especially when contrasted with her dark hair. I got all flustered inside when she looked at me. Her tiny delicate fingers were still idly caressing the books on the shelf. It looked like she smiled to herself, some private musings of her own. When she saw me, her smile disappeared. I found myself staring into the face of an angel.

I didn’t mean to stare, that would be rude, but I was stunned. She had an alluring figure. I didn’t think she could be more than seventeen. She had a delicate nose, high cheeks, and a perfectly shaped mouth, even when she scowled at me. Her eyes were strikingly blue, a deep ocean blue, enough to fall into forever. As beautiful and mesmerizing as they were, something seemed slightly off about them. They seemed old and sad. I turned bright red at my own audacity, more embarrassed now than I had ever been in my life.

Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I stammered.

Je ne m'occupe pas de moi étais lecture rapide juste, she seemed to sing to me.

My jaw dropped. I had absolutely no idea what she had said. She could have called me a moldy book, and I would have been struck just as dumb. Her idyllic French seemed to whisper just for me. A pleasant chill rolled along my spine. I managed to close my mouth and lower my head, rather flummoxed over my brusque manners.

I no mind, I just – hmm – just browsing, she said in a stuttered but beautiful French accent. Her accent when she tried to explain what she had said was just as thrilling to my ears.

What must she think of a rude boy who wouldn’t even answer her? I assumed she must be smirking at me, but I didn’t dare look again. I contemplated how to sneak another peek at her as I finished cleaning up for the evening. Not now though, I had to get out of here. I blurted out another ridiculous apology.

Uh, well, yes, again sorry, I stuttered.

I turned and walked back the way I had come, making my way to the lounge area. The mess wasn’t too much tonight; only one book was left laying there. I stole a furtive glance at the girl. She still glared at me, so I ducked my head and picked up the book. My face flushed crimson again. Her eyes were beautiful with long luxurious lashes. I didn’t even know I would like that about a girl. I did though, a lot. I didn’t pay any attention to the angry clench of her jaw.

I tried to keep myself busy cleaning, but I couldn’t help but grin as I glanced at the book on the table. It was about the life of, ‘Joan of Arc.’ I fancied that ‘Joan of Arc’ would look like this girl.

I tried unsuccessfully to look at her again. Feeling self-conscious, I kept my head down and quickly cleaned the café area. I walked to the front, still disconcerted over the young woman. I stopped, remembering that despite my flustered feelings, helping customers was my job. With a nervous sigh, I ambled back to where she had been to ask if she needed any help. I looked for her, but she was gone. I felt horrible that I had not helped her but relieved I didn’t have to humiliate myself anymore tonight. It was like she had simply vanished. I realized that I did not know her name. I really wished I did.

I intentionally try not to pay attention to girls mostly because they are scary. I am eighteen and haven’t even been on a date. Raised by my mom and two sisters, one a twin, gave me plenty of exposure to women. Why I would be this way eluded me. I marveled at all women, so beautiful and exquisite. Jordan hadn’t been an exception to that rule. God’s gift to man, was the way I thought about it. However, I was also petrified by them. The thought of talking to a girl was terrifying – well, not Jordan. Then the girl tonight, wow! I thought she had to be the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her voice, well, there just wasn’t anything more I could say. Forget her French, I didn’t understand a word she said, but I knew I could listen to her for hours if she wasn’t looking at me.

I breathed a deep sigh, regretting that I allowed myself to be so easily distracted from the loss of Jordan. I knew I would miss her smile. I had always liked the way she smiled when she thought something was funny. The corners of her mouth would turn up ever so slightly, and you could see the laughter in her rich brown eyes. I should have asked her out or something, but I was too big of a coward.

When I returned to the front, Megan was checking out the last two customers for the evening. I waited until she was done, then asked, Hey Megan, did you see a young woman with pale skin and dark hair leave? She glanced at me and shook her head.

No. Short and sweet, that was Megan.

Okay, I’ll make a final sweep and check the restrooms. I walked up to the window and looked out to see if she was outside. I paused as I glanced at the dark alcove. I squinted, a bit confused at the sight of a pale face, maybe a cheek. That was impossible. I don’t know why, but it made me think of Jordan’s deathly pale skin when I saw her laying there with her neck torn open and stained slightly red.

I heard the click of door locks. Megan would be done with the registers before I got to the front. I checked the men’s restroom and then the ladies’, knocking real loud first, then waiting almost a minute before entering. The one time I did not wait, I bumped into a girl on her way out. I was mortified for a month. I went to the front where Megan was waiting for me. We always walked to the parking lot together. I liked her quiet company, and I think she felt better with someone walking with her. I retrieved my cane. It made the walk to my truck easier to manage. I wouldn’t have used it at all if it weren’t necessary. I was very thankful Megan didn’t ask me what was bothering me.

I was torn, remembering my last sight of Jordan, but I couldn’t help thinking about the girl tonight. She was beautiful; her voice so enchanting, a sirens’ call. Every guy’s dream, well, she was my dream. I flushed at the thoughts, looking askance at Megan, wondering if somehow she knew what I was thinking. How could she? She hadn’t even seen her. I didn’t give it anymore thought and sighed involuntary. Megan glanced at me then, but didn’t say anything about my red cheeks, not that she could even see them.

The lights were still broken. I had complained relentlessly about them. If maintenance had replaced them, maybe Jordon would still be with us. It seemed no one cared. I saw that we were down to two lamps from the three that were working the previous night. I rubbed absently at the odd tingling in my chest; it was like having goose bumps in the wrong place. My thoughts were cut short. I saw a dark silhouette come across the parking lot and dash toward Megan, who had walked a bit ahead of me. I did the only thing I could think to do; I threw my cane at the guy and forced my body forward as fast as I could, yelling at Megan.

Run. Megan looked at me like I was a madman; apparently, she still didn’t see the guy. He saw us both, and for better or worse he was focused on me now. I didn’t want Megan to get hurt. He swatted my cane away with a slight flicker of his hand. He didn’t slow down even a smidge as he barreled down on me. I dropped my book bag and put my leg behind me. I had trained as a kid, karate and such, until the disease began destroying my joints. I still knew the techniques, even if I did not have the stamina to put them to good use. I crouched slightly, bending my knees, trying to find some balance as he charged. I briefly thought that this could be the bastard that killed Jordon.

I staggered as he slammed hard against me. I imagined it was like being hit by a professional linebacker. Megan turned around at the commotion, a look of shock on her face. I grunted as the guy pushed me. I barely held my feet. I jerked my hands back, and then thrust them forward as fast and hard as I could. I swear there was a flash of light or something. That is all I really remember….

2. JOAN

Faithlessness put fire to wood. The smoke started as small tendrils at my feet, wafted up like wraiths, then curled lazily about my body as I stood there bound to the execution stake. I saw myself alone on the pyre in white robes, grasping a makeshift cross as the smell of smoke started to sting my nose. Confusion set in; I looked up and saw a church cross being held up before me. I focused on it, clenching the now forgotten wooden cross in my hands almost to the point of breaking. The flames leapt high, starting to burn my flesh. The merciless smoke did no more than hint at the salvation that was not to come. I wanted to scream, but I found myself praying out loud, begging Jesus to forgive my persecutors. The flames took me in whole, I cried out in agony,

Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!

I screamed out loud and sat straight up. My release came as dusk descended once more, marking the end to another day. The haunting dream, or was it a memory, wrenched another involuntary scream from my cold lips. I sensed in the distance that street urchins trembled at the faint, chilling scream to which they would never become accustomed. There was no cold sweat for me and no tears would come either. Of these, I was no longer capable. I kissed the scorched, worn and faded homemade cross that hung on the wall and prepared myself for my evening activities.

I looked around my new surroundings with everything in perfect clarity. The last feeble remnants of the day’s light muted by what must be a cloud filled sky, filtered around the heavy boards covering the windows, mixing deeper shadows with the final light of the day. I could see the dust as it wafted through the air, and with little concentration, I sped my perception to the point that everything slowed. I watched each speck of dust drift along on imperceptible air currents. I could see the wood grains vividly in the boards nailed over the windows. I also saw the minute cracks in the concrete walls and floor.

The cold stone of the floor would have sent shivers through anyone’s frame. I barely noticed it for the deathly chill of my body was cool as the icy stone. I glided to the storage cabinet I had brought up from below. Its metal had started rusting. I opened the doors and looked at the mirror inside, noting the absence of my reflection. I was not bothered by this as were the other loathsome creatures of my kind. Mirrors meant something entirely different to me. They were a part of my purpose, my dark desire.

I brushed through my hair; the tresses fell into place, each strand perfect. I looked coolly at the pallor of white skin covering my hand, a soft, pale, yet murderous instrument. I opened my duffle bag and pulled on a black pair of jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of black boots. They were more worker style than fashion statement. I made my way silently to the roof, picking up my coat as I went.

It was the rainy season here. The wind from the fury of yet another spring storm whipped my coat out behind me. I remained motionless; the wind had no power over me. I raised my face to the heavens and shook my head gently back and forth, letting the rain droplets pelt my skin, and then stared into a flash of lightning. It ripped through the sky, challenging me, its brightness reflecting off my lifeless eyes. When the dark returned, only the gleam of a predator’s eyes remained. The thunder that sent others scurrying for cover was music to my ears. I could scream my rage and loose my laments into the night with each thunderous roar, and none would hear.

I stood atop the building that was now my abode, I was here for a purpose. I was so close to finding the source of my fury, my hatred. Here in this southern state, in this city, I would get my retribution. Despite the torrential downpour, I could see the neon glow of the lights lining the skyscrapers, particularly the round building that looked like a small moon, when they were not faded out by the nearly constant lighting strikes. These lights were part of the famous Dallas skyline. Texas is a big state, the second largest in this new world, these United States. Somewhere in this vast sprawling city I would find what I sought. My skill at tracking prey was impeccable, I had high hopes that it would not take me long to find his lair.

I looked at the empty streets below, making sure they were vacant. The storm wouldn’t hide me from all eyes, so I still had to use caution. I waited for the darkness to return. After the last flash of light, I stepped off the edge of the abandoned school I temporarily called home. I dropped to the earth three stories below with barely a whisper, and darted across the black pavement deeper into shadows, unseen and unheard, silent as death.

I needed information of this place, maps, to get a little insight. It would not do to get caught wandering around a place this big, with this much sun, while tracking dangerous creatures. I had to be prepared for anything, so I sought out a place I could acquire the information needed.

I was grateful for these heavy thunderstorms. They allowed me to come out earlier in the evening. I found a college bookstore a few miles north that would accommodate my unusual hours. It was open until nine thirty on certain evenings … Tonight was one of those. I slipped onto the back of a commuter train, using it to get nearer to my destination.

I approached the bookstore, noting a dark alcove to the right of the entrance that would offer protection from the weather and shadows to hide me. A redheaded woman stood at the front counter. Several patrons of the store were milling about, looking at different books. It seemed unusual that they were all female. I did not mind the absence of men; I grimaced slightly at the unwanted thought. I had no fondness for men and had plenty of reasons.

The redhead never looked up when I entered. I wandered up and down the rows until I found books with pictures of maps on them. I thumbed through several quickly looking at the pictures and diagrams, gleaning an instant amount of information. In another lifetime I had been taught to use maps. I put them back, knowing I could return for them later if I needed more than a cursory knowledge of what they held.

I glanced up as a young woman looked at me. Her polite expression faded as she gazed upon me and tried to hide an involuntary tremble. I looked down and listened sadly as she scurried away. There were always those that were more sensitive to that which should be feared. She knew at a glance to fear me, I could not