3. Chapter 2

I didn't understand much of what was happening, but the man who came to my rescue calling out to me, calling me Blanche, ripped something inside my chest open. A tsunami of images and emotions threatened to drown me, too many to cling to one or see long enough to form any kind of picture.

How did he know me?

And why did I feel as if I had known him for a long time?

Roger pulling me up the stairs cut my musings short; my fear of him and my father outweighed anything else. He would take me back now to that terrible place where they had killed a woman, and every part inside of me revolted against that.

"No!" I yelled, pulling on my arm, freeing it from his grip because he hadn't been prepared for it. I rushed up the rest of the way faster than I would have thought myself capable of running, past the burly door guards.

"Stop right now, Blanche!" Roger yelled after me. He had recovered from his surprise and was closer behind me than I liked.

"Hold up," the guard by the entrance called out, reaching for my wrist and pulling me around.

"Let go of me!" I cried, shaking the hand he was holding and pushing against him with my other.

To all our surprise, my push made him stumble backward, right into his friend. Before he had a chance to regain his footing, Roger punched him in the face, knocking him out for good.

I took this moment of the men being occupied with fighting and dashed past the throng of people still standing in line, watching me, gasping and talking.

Blindly, I entered an alley filled with cans made from a material I had never seen before, and for the first time, I wondered, really wondered, where I was. Or when. How long had I been asleep?

A side door opened, and several burly men appeared; one spoke into his hand, no he held something in his hand. "She's here. We've got her."

Roger and his men turned the corner, holding a strange weapon in their hands.

"Get over here, Blanche, right now," Roger yelled.

The men who emerged from the side entrance also held black weapons, and suddenly, the air was filled with the loudest, deafening bangs I had ever heard. I threw myself to the ground, covering my ears, as both groups of men staggered back as if hit by something invisible, all the while the banging staccato gained intensity.

"Blanche," the man from the bar was back. Shielding me with his body, he pulled me to my feet. "This way, come."

Just as I was about to take his hand, Roger tackled him with such power and force that the stranger was pushed away from me against a wall.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Roger snarled.

"And you have no idea who you are tangling with," the man replied, changing into a different form that knocked me to the ground. His skin color changed from a deep olive to bright red, horns grew out of his forehead as his hair receded, and his ears turned pointy.

"You don't intimidate me, demon," Roger cried, baring his fangs snarling. Fangs?

The man he had called a demon bared his as well. All the while, the loud bangs still rang out, but had turned more sporadic, as more of the fighting turned into a grabbling match. This I only noticed on the periphery of my awareness because any part of me not scared to death was solely focused on the demon and Roger.

My mind couldn't even begin to make sense out of any of this, but part of me connected some dots, Roger wanting the blood that had supposed to have been for me, the fangs clued me in that he had to be a vampire.

That I could deal with, but the man who protected me being a demon? I wasn't sure about that.

Fueled with fear and a cry, I sprang to my feet, determined to get away. But for some reason, I couldn't move. I stood frozen and stared at the demon and Roger, battling each other.

Roger was madder than I instinctively knew I had ever seen him before. His fist slammed forward into the demon, who only stared at him. "Is that all you have?"

Roger narrowed his eyes and flew off his feet, at the demon, who stepped aside, slamming both of his fists down on Roger's head. With a crash my father's henchman went down, but recovered fast, jumping back at his feet.

In a blur of motion, the demon's hand shot forward, only it wasn't a hand any longer, it had turned into a claw, opening Roger's chest wide and pulling out his heart.

I screamed.

The demon roared, and Roger collapsed to his knees in front of him. His hands reached forward as if grappling for his heart before the demon kicked him fully down with a sneer on his face.

"Devon!" a man yelled just as a wailing sound filled the air. "Cops!"

I should have been scared to death, yet, the sound of the name Devon reverberated inside me and I knew deep in my gut that it was the demon's name. Unbelievably, it was the demon more than the man he was returning into, who looked familiar to me.

"Blanche," he said, holding out his hand. "Come, I'll take you to safety."

My eyes blinked unfocused as another wave of dizziness overcame me... I swayed on my feet and would have fallen, but suddenly he was right next to me, encircling me with his arms, and keeping me up with ease.

"Trust me," he repeated, glancing down.

I nearly laughed. Trust him? He had just ripped a man's heart out in front of my eyes, had switched into the form of a demon and back! How could I trust him?

I couldn't even trust myself.

That sobered me, along with the realization that I didn't have a choice. I had already established that I couldn't trust myself and memory, and I was running from the henchmen my father had sent after me. My father!

With that, I gave up any struggle my weakening body might have been able to call up and leaned into his embrace. He picked me up, looking down at me, his gaze filled with such tenderness that I surrendered myself to him, allowing my head to fall against his chest.

My throat burned like hellfire. I was thirstier than I had ever been in my life and as Devon turned his head slightly to take us through a side entrance, I noticed the pulse in his vein. My teeth ached so hard, I felt compelled to run my tongue over them, only to encounter elongated, sharp canines instead of the dull, flat teeth I had felt all my life. What was happening to me?

The vein in Devon's neck throbbed invitingly, impulsively I licked my lips which only intensified the burning in my throat.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he pulled me into a tight, square space, that got even smaller once a set of doors pulled shut as if by magic hands.

His voice grounded me, my teeth returned to their normal state, even though the burning thirst in my throat remained.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

The sensation of going up, dropped my stomach, but by now I was in a state where nothing surprised me any longer, at least I believed that, until we stepped out of the square box and found ourselves on top of a roof.

Ahead of us sat a machine the likes I had never seen before, with long blades at its head that circled so fast, it created a breeze tugging on my hair.

More men emerged from another box, the doors to the metallic machine that was even louder than the banging sounds from the strange weapons the men had used, opened and Devon carried me inside. Carefully he sat me down on the most comfortable, softest leather chair, taking the seat next to me. His arm slung around my shoulder, inviting me to lean my head against his chest, looking up at him, feeling relaxed for the first time since this nightmare began, my eyes rolled back in my head, as everything that had happened crashed over me like a giant wave.