Phil, back to her guise as a lad, didn’t look like much. Small and deceptively scrawny, it didn’t generally occur to anyone to bother what appeared to just be a typical penniless street urchin or simple sailor. She’d been carrying of The Deception, as she called it, for a while, and she’d yet to be called out. People had a tendency of seeing what they expected to see. That day spent as a girl for the first time in years had been a pleasant one, but she didn’t dare allow herself another one, even though it meant that she was all but openly lying to her one and only friend. She didn’t want to, but… well, it came down to survival.

She and Lysander Kirk had first met a few weeks prior, and even though she knew she should probably cut off all ties—particularly after he’d met the more feminine counterpart, making it that much more likely that he could identify her for her true self—she’d kept in touch. They’d made it a habit of getting together for a pint and bite to eat now and again, and that was where she was headed now… to meet him, even though Lysander seemed quite thoroughly convinced that she was really a ‘he’… Phil instead of Philippa.

Anyway, Phil had been hurrying toward their tavern of choice, and since she was running late, she decided to cut through a nearby alley. If she remembered correctly, this alley let out right next to the establishment saving her a bit of time. Of course, she’d been having fair too much good luck recently. So, it was bound to change.

One minute, she was whistling some jaunty little tune, and the next that tune was dying on her lips because she was surrounded by an interesting assortment of vagrants. A quick glance revealed six men, armed with clubs and knifes, mostly. Fear had her heart thudding erratically in her chest, as she tried to subtly identify some path toward freedom. Managing to, somehow, sound far more composed than she felt in reality, she was careful to keep her voice as low as she could make it, to sound more like the lad she currently appeared to be. “I’m mighty sorry if I’ve wandered onto sumpin’ that’s not any bus’ness o’ mine. Rest assured any secrets are safe with me though, Fellas! The last thing a poor lad like me wants is trouble…”

Maybe a bit of diplomacy would work?

But the words out of the bloke in the middle of the group, obviously the leader, had her heart sinking. He was better dressed than the rest, and he carried himself differently as well as he stepped forward, reaching to grab Phil’s face between thumb and forefinger. “Lad like you, is it? That’s not what I’ve heard from a certain young nobleman…”

So, she’d been found again. She should have known it was apt to be merely a matter of time. She jerked her head away, practically dancing a few steps back as she reached into her sleeve to pull free the concealed blade she kept in a sheath there.

“If you want your money, make quick work of catching the… ‘lad’…” And he stepped back to let his thugs tend to poor Phil.

All things considering, she didn’t do a bad job of holding her own. She wasn’t particularly strong, and she had no special abilities. She was just a plain, ordinary human. However, she was small and quick, and she’d spent years now fending for herself and getting into and out of her fair share of scuffles. While she considered herself a peaceful sort of coward, what she really was, was a survivor. She incapacitated two of them, slashing without mercy with her trusty little blade.
Then, all of a sudden, there was pain shooting through one of her arms. One of them had managed to slash her with a knife, and she cried out as the blade tore through flesh and muscle. She was so caught off guard that those still standing were able to close in. By that point, all was lost. They were all bigger than her, and her sole advantage had been in keeping out of their immediate reach; in weaving in and out to deliver quick, lethal blows. A big, meaty fist connected with her jaw, and she crumpled.

She groaned, trying to maintain her hold on her weapon, but a heavy boot crunched down upon that slender but work-calloused hand until the shiv clattered to the cobblestones. It was then kicked out of reach. A kick was offered to her ribs too, for good measure, and she howled, hearing a sickening crunch.

“Quickly now, and no more damaging the merchandise. We must be gone from here before someone takes notice.” Hissed the man in charge.

Phil tried to fight past the pain, to climb to her feet, or crawl, or something… anything, really… but she just couldn’t make her body cooperate. It was all she could do to fight to remain conscious as she felt herself being hauled up and thrown unceremoniously over someone’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Vaguely, she remembered that she was supposed to be somewhere, and of all the things to think of just then, she was really sorry that she wouldn’t be making it to the pub for that pint…

Lysander had never tried his hand at the opposite sex before. So when he met someone that he genuinely liked he wasn’t sure exactly how to act or what to expect. He’d met a beautiful young lady named Phillipa, and had a very enjoyable time with her. So much so in fact that he’d wanted to get with her again shortly after their day was over. The only problem was that he’d forgotten to get where she was staying. Like a fool he’d let her leave without asking how he’d be able to contact her again. In all fairness he was new at this.

He’d spent the next five days looking for her. He visited the Market Place everyday at the same time he’d met her last time. Asked every stall/shop owner if they’d seen a slender reddish-brown haired lady, tanned complexion and with an athlete’s body. But none had seen her since the day she was with him. It was enough to drive him insane.

Plopping down in the chair across from his new (and only) friend, Phil, Lysander just sighed and rested his head on the table. The polite coughing from in front of him let him know that his friend was worried about him. Without looking up Lysander started talking, “I can’t find her Phil. We had a great day together and I let her slip through my hands. I should have asked her out right then and there, but no I had to play it cool. Figures that would come and bite me in the ass.”

Phil and Lysander had become friends shortly after meeting down by the docks. Phil had won Lysander’s respect after rising to the challenge of the verbal duel and not backing down. After that they’d made meeting at the Oaken Barrel a habit and he quickly became Lysander’s best friend. He’d been so excited about meeting Phillipa that he’d told Phil all about his day with her the next time he’d seen him.

“And now I can’t find her, I can’t even find someone who knew her.” He shook his head and as he felt a waitress come to the table he ordered a pint. He needed a beer or three to help forget his stupidity. His friend had listened to him pine over the “one that got away” for a couple of days now and they’d started just showing up at the tavern knowing that the other man would be there. Every other night they met up, drank, and talked.

The last time they’d met up, they agreed that they would meet the next night. They actually seemed to enjoy each other’s company a bit and felt an extra night out would do both of them good. So now, Lysander stood outside the Tavern waiting. He figured that they’d meet up outside and go in together. Phil always seemed to want a different table and one that his seat would be facing the door. Lysander wasn’t one to judge though and just went with it.

Noticing the time Lysander began to worry. Phil was running late. He’d been late before, but not this late. Lysander began to pace back and forth in front of the tavern looking up and down the street for his friend. A couple walked by and the guy leaned over and said “It’s sad to see someone get stood up like that. I’m glad I have you.” He hadn’t said it soft enough that Lysander couldn’t hear it and it just added to his bad mood.

Then he heard the sounds of fighting coming from the ally behind the Tavern. Normally he wouldn’t have done anything and just let what happened happen, however his imagination was running overtime and he pictured Phil getting the crap kicked out of him. He was about to find out that his imagination was pretty accurate.

Quietly he made his way down the ally. He didn’t want to broadcast his presence just yet. He wasn’t sure what he was about to get himself into and if he could depend on the element of surprised he’d have at least that in his favor. As he got closer he could make out the outline of five people. One let out a howl of pain and a loud crack echoed off the walls. That couldn’t be good for the one on the ground. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he could see Phil’s body being picked up and thrown over a large man’s shoulder.

Thinking quickly Lysander put a shuffle to his step, slouched his shoulders, and put a slur to his speech. “OH! Exshushe me fellash. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Can someone tell me where to find…” his eyes went to Phil’s body and he chuckled. “Your friend can’t take hish alc…hish alcoh…Hish Drink. Can he?”

The men that were still standing looked over at another man who stood slightly to himself. Almost as if asking him what they should do. He shook his head and addressed Lysander, “Listen you old Boozer. Just go back to the bar and forget you saw us.”

Faking offence, Lysander stood slightly straighter, “Now You Lishen Here! I’m Not Shum Boosher. And I won’t let shum punk like you talk to me like that!” He watched out of the corner of his eyes as the other men started grinning. They knew what was coming next and so did Lysander. It was exactly what he’d planned to happen. Simply nodding, the leader looked at Lysander and then to the two men not carrying Phil.

They began moving forward, and as they did Lysander started waving his arms in the air making “signs” with his fingers. “You better Shtay back! I know Magic!” At that they all laughed. He hadn’t scared them at all. He hadn’t intended to. They grew cocky in their walk towards him. They knew how this would end, or at least they thought they did.

“For my firsht trick….” Lysander started, then as the two got within arm’s length, his right hand darted out and made contact with one of the men’s faces. He went down, but without a any more noise. He’d been trying to gauge if he needed to hold back, and it appeared that he did. “I’m going to make goon one disappear.” All drunkenness gone from his voice.

“And for trick two…” his foot came up and with a very satisfying sound laid the other man out too. “Now,” looking at the big man. “You gonna put him down or am I going to have to make you?”

The large muscle mountain looked at the leader, “Uhhh, boss?” was all he said. Before Lysander’s gaze could follow the big man’s a column of fire shot out beside his head, just barely missing him. Of course they had a magic user with them. It could never be as easy as roughing up a couple of punks.

He turned and found the leader grinning at him, as if expecting him to pee himself and run. Of course when you can shoot fire from your finger tips you kind of expect that reaction. But when you grew up in the Kirk home, you didn’t find small feats like that impressive. Luckily for him, Lysander hadn’t even used any of his powers yet so they probably thought they were dealing with a normal human. He was about to rectify that now though.

The next shot went slightly high, but on the other side of his head. He couldn’t tell if this guy was missing on purpose or if he was just messing with him. Either way he started weaving back and forth, dodging the streams of fire. Once it was a fire ball, then it was a column of fire, and another time it was a wall. He could tell that the man was reaching his limits. He’d been trained just enough to try to scare most people.

As he dodged back in front of the fire user, Lysander pulled his ring finger back againster the inside of his thumb and flicked. He did what countless of kids have done for countless of years. Only instead of flicking paper or a pencil piece, a small rock hard ball of ice had formed where his fingers met. He flicked and his aim was true. It hit right between the man’s eyes.

It hadn’t been a killing blow. He hadn’t wanted that. Lysander just wanted his friend back. With the man stunned Lysander raced forward with unusual speed and landed a kick in the man’s gut. Once he doubled over, he followed it up with a double fist to the back of the neck. He went down hard and fast. Looking back over his shoulder, the eldest Kirk asked the large man, “So, are you going to put my friend down?”

Unhurriedly, the mountain of a man gently put Phil down on the ground and slowly backed away. He didn’t turn his back until he was out of the ally. Lysander went to his friend and realized then that the sun had set farther and it was harder to see any of the wounds on him. He picked him up and was surprised at how light he was. Having never starved Lysander wrote it off to that and vowed right then to take a more keen interest in his friend’s life.

For now however Lysander needed to get Phil back to the room he was renting. If Phil was being tracked then he’d be safer in Lysander’s rooms then his own. For the first time in a while he was glad to be a half breed. The strength that his mother’s vampire side gave him along with the speed helped him get Phil back to his room. Not paying attention to those around him Lysander rushed to his quarters and flung the door open. He laid his friend on his bed and lit all the lights he could. He needed to see if his friend was hurt bad enough to need a doctor or if he just needed bed rest.

With that in mind, Lysander closed the door and began to undo Phil’s shirt.

Thank the gods for the bad lighting generally associated with pubs and taverns and the like. That’s what usually went through young Phil’s head during her meetings with Lysander. She’d let on more than she’d ever intended as it was, and hearing him go on about this perfect girl he’d met… Well, okay. It’d been flattering. She had wanted to tell him. Oh, how she’d wanted to tell him! However, she convinced herself that it was better that she didn’t… for her, and for him. What would really be better would be if Phil disappeared too before he cottoned on. Lysander, she knew by now, was no fool, and he was bound to put the pieces together sooner or later. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to get involved in all of this… It hadn’t ended well for any of the others she cared for.

Of course, when did that unfortunate person ever get what she wanted?

She couldn’t see what was going on, but she heard his all too familiar (though surprisingly slurred) voice as they’d started hauling her away. She wanted to yell at him to get out of here… not to risk his neck for some street rat, but her tongue felt all thick and dry in her mouth… and she was pretty sure she was crying like a big baby. Everything hurt, and that part of her that just wanted to survive to see another day dared to hope that things might work out all right.

By this point, she was in and out of consciousness. She tried to hang on in case there was some way for her to be useful, but it didn’t work. There’d been enough blood loss from her arm, and she’d been clocked hard enough in the head, that she was only half aware of what was going on around her. There was quite the commotion, and… and was that a column of fire?

She wasn’t sure how long it went on like that, but the mountain of a man who had shouldered her slight form was setting her down with surprising care, and then Lysander was there… and… and…

Everything went black.

It didn’t remain that way for very long. Lysander would manage to get Phil back to his room without further incident, and for the first time, he’d get a really good look at his friend. The cap that so often shadowed ‘his’ features was all askew, revealing features that were more delicate than any lad would care to possess. (Well, the side of his face that wasn’t all bruised and swollen.) A tendril or two of hair, a surprisingly glossy chestnut hue, had fallen from beneath the hat as well. The man would manage to get several of the buttons undone, but it wouldn’t be bared flesh that was revealed beneath. Instead, there were strips of cloth, wound tightly around Phil’s chest… so tightly, in fact, that it was a wonder she could move.

It was as this was revealed that she suddenly came to and sat up straight on the bed. The state of her ribs, had her body screaming in protest, though, and with a sharp cry, she all but fell back down, clutching the her shirt closed as she looked to Lysander with wide eyes… eyes that were suddenly brimming and then overflowing with tears.

“Don’t ‘ate me… I didn’t want ta lie! I just… They’re after me an’ if ye knew ye’d be in danger… but… well, now ye are anyway, and… an’ I’m jist so sorry!” The hat had fallen off completely by now, and her face was framed by that halo of reddish-brown waves. He’d have to be utterly blind not to recognize her now, even with the bruising. The young male friend Lysander thought he’d just saved had now transformed into ‘the girl that got away’ in front of his very eyes.

Lysander didn't hate Phillipa. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to even if he'd wanted. They'd talked, and Lysander had convinced her to stay at his place while she recovered. He'd remembered the wrappings and turned his back while she got comfortable. He was prepared to make himself a bed on the floor, however she asked that he lay next to her. Truth be told, he'd wanted that from the very start.

They'd spent the night with her sleeping, laying against him, and he hardly closed his eyes. This wasn't something that Lysander was used to. Nor could he ask his family about it since they were mostly in RDH. There were rumors that Alerion had planned on closing the Outer Gates he wasn’t sure whether or not anyone else would be staying in Aleris while that happened. He was on his own it seemed.

He looked her over for what seemed like the millionth time. She was pretty badly beat up and he found himself wishing his half sister, Cerridwen were here to heal her. Then when he looked at the other half of that he was glad she wasn’t cause it would mean that Phillipa would leave. How to convince her to stay? He had no idea.

She kept mentioning the people around her getting hurt, but tonight only the people trying to hurt her got hurt…other then her. Lysander actually felt bad for not having gone to check for her sooner, of course at that time he thought she was a “he”. Not that that excused the fact that he hadn’t checked on his friend. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. Not at himself any more, but at the person responsible for ordering those men tonight.

At that moment he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave her side until he was positive that she was safe from this man. Even if that meant finding his father and asking for help. Although he’d hate to do that. Lysander decided that he needed to rest and stop thinking about these things, cause he could feel himself tensing up and that wouldn’t be any help to Pippa.

Holding her closer, but not too close to make her twitch in pain, Lysander finally closed his eyes and went to sleep as well. Where he dreamed of large fire magic users coming after them. He was using his ice powers to block their attacks, but something didn’t feel quite right. As he kept using them, his whole body seemed to get slower, almost as if he were freezing a bit every time he used it. He looked down at his arms and they shone back up at in, made of solid ice.

His eyes flew open and he looked at his arms without taking them from around Pippa. They were normal…for now.

Philippa had been exhausted. This was probably understandable, considering the beating her small frame had taken. She had managed to get out of her clothes and bindings and into one of Lysander’s tunics. On her, it was practically a dress, with the hem brushing against the middle of her thighs. In the morning, the bindings might return to her torso, but merely not for the purpose of concealing her femininity. Rather, she thought it might help with her ribs.

Anyway, she had never slept well on her own; prone to terrible nightmares. So, she had practically begged Lysander to join her on the bed. He’d already done much in the way of proving himself a gentleman and friend, and his closeness had provided her with more comfort than she’d had in some time. She slept as soundly as one could expect, what with every little shift causing an expression of pain to ripple across her features.

Still, she was blissfully unaware of Lysander’s sleeplessness as he worried over her well being. She didn’t want any healers; particularly not someone so close to the man who’d rescued her. It was possible that she was just paranoid, but she was convinced that anyone who helped her was placing themselves in danger. She just couldn’t have that sort of thing on her conscience any more than she did already. Besides, once she was all healed up, she was going to feel obligated to leave.

Gods, but she didn’t want that.

She had mumbled now and again in her sleep. Most of it was incomprehensible, but “He called me Pippa..” was possibly heard. It had been years since anyone had called her Pippa. That had been what her family had called her; back when she’d been some sweet, feminine little girl who’d never had to worry about little more than whether she’d be getting a brand new dress or one of her older sister’s outgrown ones.

Dawn was breaking when she felt the man jerking to alertness beside her, and Phil’s own eyes went wide. She stiffened, momentarily forgetting where she was and with whom as she felt arms circled about her slender waist and heard the beating of someone else’s heart beneath her ear. Her head lifted, and her eyes trailed up to his face.

Was she still dreaming?

Then, when she attempted a smile, it all rushed back, thanks to the bruising at her cheek. She flinched, but the concern on his own face had her ignoring it. “Everythin’ alright?” She noticed that he was looking down at his arms, and so she let her hands move along them as she followed his gaze; surprised at how simply comfortable she was with his arms around her.

Lysander had spent a very lovely morning with Philippa, or Pippa as he’d started to think of her as. They’d spent some time talking about their pasts, and then he’d gotten her some food. Both of their stomachs were empty and when they growled almost at the same time he’d taken that as a sign. Going down to the closest tavern he’d gotten them some sandwiches which they’d been eating on when Pippa made her declaration.

He took hold of her hand as she was about to pull it back and smiled. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her fingers, not intimately, but a quick brush against his lips. The smile never faded as he looked into her eyes. He needed to be gentle with how he replied and he knew that. He hadn’t meant to offend her with his comment about protecting her and he knew that what he said now had the potential of backfiring.

“Pip,” he began, “I didn’t mean to make it sound as if I didn’t think you’d be able to handle yourself in a simple fray with simple humans. Maybe even a weaker vampire. However, the team they sent after you last night, while not professional, was very close to being just that. The leader had magic abilities, what exactly would you do in that situation?”

Sighing heavily, he brought her fingers back up with another kiss, and this time left them by his lips, almost as if he was afraid of letting go. She had made her confession and he supposed it was his turn to as well. He looked into her eyes, his smile having faded a bit, not from being less happy, but from the seriousness of what he was about to tell her.

“I feel the same way about you Pippa. I’ve never felt as close to anyone who wasn’t family and truth be told I’m not even that close to them. I want to help you.” I think I love you. He added in his head.

Standing up he finally broke eye contact with Philippa. “I’m going to go get your things. Please stay here and rest. I’ll be back soon.”

With that he grabbed his coat, and threw it over his shoulders. His head was full of thoughts as he made his way back out and down the street. Phil had been staying a little farther away and in a slightly worse part of town, not that Lysander was in the higher class end. Just slightly less broken down. Going to her inn he asked for Beth.

“She’s around back, doing laundry.” The gruff old man at the counter told him. “Try not to distract her too much. She’s behind enough as it is.” Lysander looked the man up and down not sure how to take him. He wondered if this guy had any idea that Phil was actually a girl, but then again, he didn’t seem to be interested in anything other then the girly magazine he was looking at behind the counter.

Lysander went back out the door and around the corner to the back of the office. There he found the girl known as Beth. He approached her making just enough noise so not to scare her, then clearing his throat asked, “Are you Beth?” the girl spun and as she did, brought up her hand as if to attack him. “Whoa! I’m not going to hurt you. I was going to ask you a favor. I’m here for Phil, he said you knew him and would help me get him his bag?”

“Oh, aye, I know Phil.” Lysander couldn’t help but notice the blush on the girl’s cheeks and grinned to himself. Apparently Pippa was a very good actress. The girl caught him looking at her cheeks and they burst into an even brighter red. “I’ll help, but why can’t Phil just come and get his own things?”

“Well, he’s not feeling the best and he’s staying at my place. It’s a bit complicated to be truthful. However I need for you to keep this between us. It’s very important for his health.” He didn’t add that if anyone found out where Philippa was they’d kill her. He also didn’t mention that Phil was actually a girl.

“Oh, of course! I’d do anything for him.” Her cheeks still burned red, but she nodded her head vigorously. “Where do you want me to bring it? I can bring it by your room tonight if you want?”

“No.” he replied gently, “We can’t run the risk of you being followed. I’ll meet you at the Oak Barrel Tavern tonight at eight. Please bring his bag and I’ll make sure that he gets it.”

She seemed to hesitate slightly before nodding. She was obviously very unhappy at the idea of not seeing Phil, but Lysander wasn’t about to let Philippa be put in that much more danger. “Thank you. He said he could trust you.” At that she smiled, man Pippa really played this girl. It was almost sad.

Lysander turned and went back towards his rooms. He opened the door to his room and looked at the bed, “Well, that part is done.” He said “You really have that poor Beth wrapped around your finger don’t you?” he teased.

Phil prided herself on being quick witted and silver tongued when she had a need of it, but Lysander was putting her to shame just then. Of course, the feel of his hand on hers, and the jolt that seemed to travel from his lips to her knuckles probably helped his case a bit. Or rather, it distracted her enough that she couldn’t come up with one of her usual retorts. Instead, her eyes were locked on her hand where it remained next to his mouth, and she swallowed thickly, trying to replay what he’d said in her head.

Simple humans.

Well, that was something, wasn’t it? She’d never much thought about Lysander’s own heritage. She typically didn’t ask questions that she didn’t have too if merely out of courtesy. She had so many things that she wanted to keep hidden that she figured others would volunteer what information that they wanted to when they wanted to. “They’re not the first, y’know… and they can’t possibly be the last either. Not at this rate.” The obsession with her had changed over the years. Now instead of hunting down the witness to his crime, this nobleman had seemed almost to think that he was tracking down her sister—the girl he’d raped and murdered—all over again.

Philippa’s cheeks grew warm, and she finally closed her eyes, as if to break the spell he seemed to have over her. Not that it worked. “All I’ve ever wanted since first setting foot aboard the ship that was home to me these last years was to one day have me own lil’ ship… be a peaceful merchant type. Mebbe have a place t’call me own during the between times too. Settle down, like.” Gods, but she was tired of running. “Bein’ that grand lady my da wanted me t’be don’t seem so likely anymore. Bloody ‘ell. I don’t think I’d want that anyway. The studies were interestin’, and it was fun being all dressed up in those fine party gowns. It’s even fun playin’ the part now and again when it suits me purposes… but it was right boring a lot of the time.”

She didn’t know why she’d felt the need to go on about all that. She supposed she wanted him to know that it wasn’t like she wanted to be running off at the first sign of danger. She loved being a sailor. She even had a certain wanderlust that was associated with that. But she didn’t want to run scared anymore. She still wanted to be able to set down roots…

But she couldn’t do that.

Not with this threat constantly looming over her.

Distractedly, she had nodded when he announced that he was going to go see about getting her things. During his absence, she tried to rest, but her thoughts were going a million miles per minute. There was really only one solution. She didn’t know why she’d not thought about it before. Well, okay. She’d thought about it lots of times. She just had never worked up the nerve to follow through on such thoughts. No one had been so important to her that the thought of just up and leaving was almost physically painful before.

It’s selfish. She tried to tell herself. You’ll just be putting him in danger like everyone else who’s ever tried to help you.

But he can fend for himself. He knows the risks. He wants to be a part of this.

That doesn’t mean you should let him. This is your problem.

I can’t do it alone. I can’t leave him. I know it’s horrible and selfish, and I might just as well be signing his bloody death certificate, but I can’t.

And she’d known that all along, despite her protests.

Well, at least she’d come to terms with it.

The door opened, and the girl tensed on the bed, out of habit; relaxing only when Lysander’s familiar face came into view. His words had her blinking, then as it sunk in, she looked rather bashful.

“It’s not like I encouraged it, but I sort of saved her one night from a couple of rowdy patrons who were roughin’ ‘er up one night, and…” Here, she shrugged. “Like most girls, I s’pose she latched onto someone she viewed as ‘er hero or some such. She’s just not much used to kindness in a place like that, I guess… I just looked out for ‘er a bit and helped with her work now and again and such.”

Phil had never much thought of it being taken the wrong way, but it had happened all the same.

Ah, well.

There was a time of silence, as she hesitated. Then, finally, she was speaking up. “I don’t want to run anymore, Lysander. I’m not some scared lil’ girl anymore, and I need to stop acting like such. So, I’ve been thinkin’…”

She looked a bit pale, but resolute. “I want to get him b’fore he gets me. I want him t’know what it’s like to run scared fer once.”

Lysander didn’t even try to resist the urge to smile as Philippa quickly tried to explain herself. He nodded as she finished and with a chuckle responded, “Well, whatever the case, you’ve gotten yourself quite the admirer. She seemed like she would do just about anything for you.”

They were silent for a moment, but it didn’t feel like an awkward silence. It was comfortable, but when it was broken the look on his face couldn’t be hidden. He was shocked, but there was something else there too, a feeling of pride. He was very proud of her when she said she didn’t want to hide anymore. This could become fun.

Just to be clear, Lysander didn’t want anything bad to happen to Pippa, but he had to admit, the fight the night before had been a bit too easy. He’d make sure Pippa was safe, and if he had to kill an entire empire to do it, he would. This nobleman was anything but; if he wanted a fight, Lysander was more then willing to give him one. He just hoped that this lord had a lot of money, cause he planned on making him pay dearly.

Walking over to Phil, he leaned down and softly kissed her forehead. “Then it shall be done. I’ll need you to tell me more about this ‘noble’, but from what I’ve seen so far I’m not impressed. I’ll take care of his lackeys, and watch your back as you take care of the big guy. We’re gonna end this.” He added the last almost in a whisper.

“But first, I’m going to need to go meet Beth and get your things. It’s almost time, and she’ll probably be worried if I’m late. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” With that he smiled again and quickly left the room. He was excited, and his movements were much quicker then before. It was his vampire nature inside waking up and getting worked up. It’d been a long time since he’d let himself go completely all out, and his other half could feel its chance.

As he got closer to the Oak Barrel tavern, he could see a figure shifting back and forth off to the side. It had to be Beth. He was running a bit late and she appeared to be nervous. Calling out, he raised his hand in a wave, “Beth, over here!” Her eyes lit up and she started walking towards him. She was no farther then ten feet when the wall behind her exploded.

Lysander rushed forward and covered Beth’s body with his own. The tavern had exploded and shards of wood and metal were showering down on them. He felt several pieces dig into his back but held firm to make sure Beth didn’t get hurt. Lifting his head to look up he could see the entire tavern had been destroyed (please see reference in Keeping Away Demons https://aleris.neverend.org/forums/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=701).

Once the wood stopped raining down he looked to Beth, “Are you alright?” She nodded but before she could say anything, several shadows started moving behind them.

“She’s much better then you’re about to be my young friend.” Came a strange voice.

Lysander stood and dusted himself off. His hair had gotten messed up and was in his face, and he pushed it back from his eyes. Before him, stood three large men, all dressed in black, fine clothes. None of them seemed to be comfortable in their clothes, almost as if they were being forced to dress nicer for an employer then dressing to how they’d prefer. With them, standing in front of the other three stood a slim man, in white. If nothing else it was dramatic.

“You see, you seem to be in our way. We’re looking for a young ‘man’.” At the word man, there was a bit of a smirk, for whatever reason they were trying to keep Philippa’s secret. Then it dawned on him. If people found out that there was a large group of men were rampaging through the streets for one little woman, people would stand up and try to stop them. Just like Lysander was.

Reaching down and grabbing Philippa’s bag, he tossed it back towards Beth, “Hold on to this for me please.” A small smile played on his lips as he turned back to the quartet. “So, you’re looking for Phil? Well, unfortunately ‘he’ isn’t able to come out and play at the moment, I guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

“Lad, we really don’t want trouble with you. We know you’ve already beaten up the gang that the boss sent out last night. We’re not even upset about that. From what we hear they went beyond their instructions and beat poor Phil up too much. However we can’t let you stand in our way either. So, if you just send him out to us, we’ll call everything even and won’t have to hurt anyone else.”

It all seemed so polite. Everything was just business. Well, for them it might have been. For Lysander it was very much personal. “Well, unfortunately I can’t let you have him. So…it seems that someone is going to be getting hurt.”

With a sigh, the man in white just shrugged and in complete silence, the other three moved forward. They were moving with supernatural grace…vampires probably. That was fine, especially since they apparently didn’t know who he was. They probably thought he was a human who’d overstepped himself. The trio was moving slower then they probably could have, saving their energy since they didn’t need to use too much on him.

He let them get close. He took a step back almost looking as if to get away, but really what he was doing was not only getting his attackers to believe he was scared; he also wanted to get his back foot up and ready to swing forward. Which is just what he did when the first of the three got close enough. He brought his right leg back up whipping it with inhuman speed into the knee of the first attacker. A loud crack could be heard and the vamp went down.

Still moving from the momentum of his first blow, Lysander back handed the second of the three sending him sprawling to the side. Bringing his other hand up the hybrid straight armed the last, hitting him directly in the nose. Blood gushed as bone broke and was sent up into the last vampire’s skull. It would have been a killing blow for most races, but as it was it was just painful enough to take this undead out of the fight for a little while.

He twirled on the second attacker who was leaping towards him, obviously having recovered sooner then Lysander had expected. They both went down as the vampire came down on him. Fists slammed into his face. Truth be told Lysander hadn’t actually fought another vampire before. Especially not one that he’d pissed off by making him look like a fool two minutes into the fight, but now, Lysander was looking kinda foolish. It hurt. However , he wasn’t going to go down that easy.

Instead of trying to get away from the other man, Lysander grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down into a head butt. The first one didn’t seem to have much effect on him, so he repeated it…three more times. Finally the vampire staggered off of him.

He rolled over and threw the other vamp down. They’d traded places and now Lysander was pounding on the other man’s head. At one point he tried pulling Lysander’s trick on him, but beating him to the point, Lysander slammed his head back into the vamp’s. Then grabbing the man by the neck, he cracked his head against the cobblestone. Once. Twice. And finally, a third time and the vampire didn’t move.

Lysander stood and took a deep breath before turning to the man in white. “That all you boys got?” he was breathing hard, but still standing. From the looks of the man before him, Lysander almost didn’t think that he’d be a problem, but have just proved that looks weren’t everything he didn’t want to misjudge his opponent.

“Well, you did disperse of the fodder quickly.” The man said as he removed his jacket and folded it nicely. “However, it’ll take more then luck and a little bit of skill to win this. Especially if you’re still set on hiding Phil. I’ll give you one more chance to turn him over. If you do now, I’ll be sure to kill you quickly.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Lets go.”

As he began rolling his sleeves up, Lysander noticed that there were tattoos all over the small man’s arms. A soft chant could be heard coming from him, and as he started chanting louder, the tattoos lit up and flashing runes became apparent. Lysander was up against a mage. And from the looks of it, a powerful one.

“Oh hell.” He muttered, but still started running towards his next foe. Before he could get too close, there was a pressure in his chest. Then he felt it. Invisible power hit him hard, sending him flying backwards. Luckily for him, the wall of the building across the street from the tavern stopped him.

Trying to catch the breath that had just been knocked out of him. He coughed and as he wiped at his mouth, he noticed there was a hint of red. That wasn’t a good sign. He needed to end this thing as quickly as possible. He didn’t think he’d be able to take much more of a beating. He’d been over confident from the get go, that was his first mistake. His second came when he decided to take out the minions before going after the leader. The third mistake he made was sitting there thinking about his mistakes while the other man prepared another spell.

Suddenly his blood was on fire. He was burning from the inside out. His body clinched in pain and he curled up as if hoping to make himself a smaller target, but it was too late for that. Then just like that the fire was gone. Then there were feet in front of him. As he’d been writhing in pain the mage had apparently made his way in closer.

“This is really ignorant on your behalf. I could put a word in for you with my employer and we can work together. You’ve already proven you can take a beating, and give one. Please, just give us the girl and let us be done with this…silliness.”

Most of what he’d said wasn’t actually heard, but the part of giving over Philippa had been. He started pulling himself together, and sat up. Then, slowly he got to his feet. Coughing again, Lysander paid no attention to the blood that seemed to be flowing freely now, and inhaling deeply, he muttered, “Go to hell.”

The mage just sighed, shook his head, and chanted his spell again. This time Lysander was waiting for it. Whatever he’d done before had set his insides on fire. Despite his earlier fear of being too much like his father, Lysander called up his other half. Yes he was half vampire, but he was also his father’s son. He was half elemental as well. He wasn’t as powerful as his father or younger brother, but he had enough to prepare his insides.

The spell was unleashed, and it hit it’s target. However as he felt it enter him, he also felt it hit his frozen defenses. He grinned. It had worked. He hadn’t been sure it would, and to add insult to injury, the mage had stepped within arm’s reach. Mistake number two. The mage’s first mistake had been to threaten Philippa. There was one more thing he took back from his father; if you threaten someone he cared about you were going to be in trouble.

Snarling the vampire hybrid grabbed the mage and yanked him forward. Instead of head butting him like he had the other man, he bit down on the spell caster’s neck. He hadn’t actively fed in years. And the rush of fresh blood in his mouth was delicious. Not only was it sweet payback for threatening pain on Pippa, but it was extra sweet from the length of time it’d been since his last meal. He latched down and didn’t let go. Normally in the past, he would have just fed long enough to get a taste, but in his anger, he kept drinking.

Sooner then he thought, the vampire found himself sucking on an empty bag. He threw the shell down. He was pissed. Not only had he been forced to kill, but he’d been forced to feed. It wasn’t completely bad, however since feeding him had healed many of his wounds. He turned to Beth, and she flinched away from him. This was why he’d stopped feeding. The looks from those around him.

“If you’ll hand me that bag, I’ll be on my way miss. And you should probably be headed home as well.” She just dropped the bag and ran. It was the expected reaction, not one that he liked or felt proud of, but the expected one. Making his way other to Phil’s bag, he noticed that he had a bit of a limp at the moment. Apparently he hadn’t had quite enough to eat to heal himself completely. That wasn’t important right now though.

Lysander picked up Phil’s bag and made his way back home. As he opened the door, he put a big smile on his face. Speaking before entering the room he said, “Sorry it took me so long. I ran into a few problems, but they weren’t anything I couldn’t handle.” And prepped himself for the reaction he was sure to get from Philippa. This was going to be more painful then the beating he’d just taken.

It was taking too long.

Lysander should have been back by now. The tavern wasn’t that far from here, and she just had the worst feeling that something was very wrong. So, she sat up in the bed, uncaring of the pain that nearly toppled her back onto the bed. Her old bindings were sought out from the nearby bedside table, and the borrowed shirt was pulled off over her head so that she could wrap the strips of fabric snugly around her ribcage to lend some of the support that her broken ribs were currently unable to. Then, she was pulling the shirt back on, oversized as it was, and casting a glance about for her breeches. Getting those on proved more difficult, but she managed to get the too-fitted things on. She’d had a growth spurt since first getting them, leaving them a bit too tight in the waist and a lot too short in the legs. The faded red vest was hastily thrown on and buttoned too, and next she was looking for her cap. She didn’t see it, but she didn’t care.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she grimaced. She certainly looked a sight with one side of her face swollen and bruised. It didn’t matter though. What mattered was finding Lysander. She cursed her slowness in getting to the door; her body protesting every step, but she was a stubborn little thing.

Her hand was just reaching for the door knob when she felt it being pushed open. She stumbled back, but managed to keep her footing. She was so openly relieved to see him standing there in one piece that he was momentarily saved from her trading at him because she was too busy embracing him. Her arms went about his middle, while the uninjured side of her face pressed to his chest.

The reprieve didn’t last long however. Once she was convinced that it really was him standing there; that he really was, mostly, okay, (He’d only taken a step or two since entering the room, but she knew a limp when she saw one.) she was letting him go to look up at him. Fear gripped the pit of her stomach, yelling at her to run as it had been doing for so long now. There was no saving herself. They’d always be coming for her, but her running could save Lysander… If she really cared for him, that’s what she’d do instead of dragging him even further into this mess.

But she couldn’t. She just wasn’t that selfless.

“I told you it’d only get worse.” She sighed. “I can’t understand yer apparent death wish, Lysander. Now they know yer helpin’ me, and… and that might make it e’en worse fer ye than it is for me. The Duke ‘as been getting’ strangely… jealous almost of any fella who spends significant amount o’ time in me comp’ny in more recent years.” She was pacing; one hand pressed to her side as if that would stay the pain.

Then, she stopped, noting that he had her bag. Her eyes widened. “Beth! She’s alright, isn’t she? And you? What happened?” She finally dropped onto a chair that was in the room, leaning forward to bury her face in her hands, lamenting, “Gods, but I’m so very, very hard on m’friends…”