Jean-Marc hears the challenge and laughing leans out a window to issue a scornful reply....

“You are challenging me?? Jean-Marc Louis de Guernon Duc de Condorcet?? You think too much of yourselves... A human, a girl, a vampire and a traitor to his kind. Do you actually think I am worried? If any of you come near this place my men will kill you. And after you are dead the gargoyle and his bitch are next. They may already be dead if my men have found them, and good riddance I say. She was supposed to be my wife, but apparently she thinks it more of an honor to be a commoner's whore. You dare to challenge me for taking what was mine in the first place? You all will rest on the dunghill, not me. Come, enter and drag me out if you dare....”

Jean-Marc races back to his farmhouse. He rips the door open, tossing it aside and roars, summoning what's left of his group.

“It seems we have been located, thanks to two females and the one they helped escape. But there are only four of them. I am certain we can beat them if they are foolish enough to attack.”

One of the females asks about the shifters that have been hanging around the woods for the past couple of days.

“Shifters? You mean those children? We have nothing to worry about from those cubs. They are hiding in the trees and will not come here. And the four from the tavern will be outnumbered and easy to do away with.”

A few of Jean-Marcs followers were not convinced. A female spoke up, “But the shifters have been seen in the woods every night since you brought that girl here from the tavern. They are seen moving amongst the trees every night. How do you know they will stay there if the others attack?”

Jean-Marc grabbed the girl by the throat and the last thing she saw was his open mouth and huge teeth clamping down on her face.

Jean-Marc spit out the face and crushed bone, blood spraying from what was left of the head, splattering on those standing closest.

“Any further objections? Good, I didnt think there would be. Byron, take a few men, say eight or so, and go to the tavern. They may have taken the girl back there. I want her back. Do not return without her, even if you have to bring me her dead body. Then she can rest with her lover after I kill him, in the garbage pit. The rest of you, we will make a stand here. Do not let anyone near this house. Kill them first.”

Jean-Marc rears back when he sees the snake fly out of the water. What the hell?? A snake? He looks around, she should be close by, her scent ends here... then he hears the sound of wings overhead, and suddenly a loud crashing through the trees. …

He turns and runs back toward his house.. If they want a fight I will gather my men and Byron, make the odds more in our favor and then find that bitch...

Jean-Marc awakens slowly, the half empty bottle falls from his hands. He glances up at the clock on the mantle and realizes he has been asleep for a couple of hours. Thats odd, I just sat down with this bottle... He picks it up and smells, suddenly furious he throws the bottle against the wall, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

Those little cunts thought they could outsmart me. Now what would they have been trying to get away with?

He thinks for a minute, and roars when he realizes what they were probably up to. He races to the basement, to the cell that use to hold Alise. He roars again when he sees the empty cell, his prisoner gone, shaking the entire house with the force of his rage. One of his pets enters the cell to see what is wrong and Jean-Marc throws the man against the bricks, smashing his skull and leaving a shower of blood and brain over the wall and floor. He leaves the cell, insane with rage, enters the main room and tosses the heavy table aside with his hand causing it to shatter like toothpicks.

He lets the change come over him, knowing he can track them better this way.

Jean-Marc waits impatiently in the back of his sedan. Byron drove him and one his most trusted pets into town to see about delivering a package. He was certain no one would notice a dark, plain car that looked just like a thousand others driving around the city. If need be, he could park this in the barn and use one of the others. Byron was sporting a rather large bandage to the side of his head, which he toyed with absentmindedly.

Jean-Marc rubbed the side of his face, the long scratches still visible. Such a temper. But that wont last much longer...

The girl gets back in the car, “It's done. Should be delivered to the tavern early this evening. They stopped asking questions after I gave them the money.”

“Splendid. Lets get back then. We wouldnt want to miss any of the fun.” The only regret Jean-Marc had was the fact that he couldnt see the package delivered, or opened. He smiled grimly, What I would give to see the look on that gargoyles face when he sees her fancy bra in pieces and covered in blood. I wonder if he will realize that it fell apart when she was whipped?

Jean-Marc smiled, pleased with himself. The insults and embarrassment he had endured would soon be avenged. He intended to make good use of this chance he had been given. With any luck he would kill all of the gargoyles when he was done playing with them....

Jean-Marc gets in the backseat of his car with the blonde girl he has offered a ride to. One of his pets is acting as driver and will also dispose of the girl in the trunk. The blonde is chattering about school and who was suppose to show up at the bar to pick her up. But when she says something about an upcoming wet t-shirt contest at the Tavern, Jean-Marc starts to pay attention.

“Whats this about a contest? And where was that at again?”

The girl digs in her purse for the flyer. “The bartender was handing them out to everyone complaining that he wouldnt make any tips that night because it sounded like everyone wanted to see the contest. Here it is, did you want to see it?”

Jean-Marc takes the flyer and reads it, his mind spinning plans and grinning evilly. “Yes, thank you. Can I keep this? It may help me with some plans that I am making...”

“Sure, you can take it. I can always get another one.” and as she lowers her head to close her purse, Jean-Marc takes the syringe from his pocket and drives the needle into the girls bare thigh, her skirt having ridden up when she got into the car. The drugs hit her fast and she doesnt utter a word before slumping over in the seat. Jean-Marc lays her down on the back seat and begins to fondle her breasts. Lifting her shirt, he lowers his head and bites her. He laughs, enjoying the sight of his teethmarks on her breasts.

“Drive through the woods here before we return home. We can leave off the one in the trunk and take this one home for awhile. Not that she looks like she will last very long either. I dont know why but my friends seem to scare these girls to death....” and Jean-Marc laughs. And soon, if all goes well I will take that bitch away from the gargoyle and introduce her to my friends. She wont be so high class or noble after a few days in my basement.

The driver stops in a remote spot and lifts the girl from the trunk. She is tossed carelessly on the side of the road, obviously beaten, her face swollen and eyes blackened. Jean-Marc is unsure if this one is still alive and doesnt care. His mind is busy with plans and anticipating his revenge. He feels the stirring of excitement at the thought of Alise groveling at his feet “Hurry home. I think I may have need of your unique services, my pet. We can use this one for practice. Soon we will have the real one to torment and break, and wont that be fun?”


The four shifters come upon the body while they are in human form. The scent is familiar and disturbing. The girl looks like a broken toy, forgotten and neglected. They all four jump when she moves her hand.

“Shit, dude, did you see that? Got your phone? Call for help.”

One assumes his wolf form and leaves, trying to track the scent as far as he can. The others stay with the girl and wait for help to arrive....

Jean-Marc watches as the girls leave the bar. When he left the tavern he walked to a place closer to the campus. Easier prey, and he laughs to himself. All you have to do is wait until they have enough to drink, and they fall for any line and drink anything they are offered. The last proved too weak for my tastes, not even good for a pet...She wont talk though, even if she remembers anything, scared as a rabbit when we left her off in the woods...At least she wasnt dead. Too many dead ones and you have to move....

He had spent the last weeks finding a house and getting things ready. An old crumbling Victorian, and not actually in town, fairly secluded by a large grove of trees and its location. It was perfect Jean-Marc thought when he bought it. The only thing he was interested in was its location and large, deep, brick cellar. He was completely uninterested in the beauty of the once grand old house. It had sat empty for a number of years, and now with the gardens over grown, vines trailing a winding pathway around windows, it looked sad and haunted with memories of happier times. A small round turret graced one side of the house, mostly made of brick, at one time it resembled something from a fairy tale, enchanting children and beckoning them to climb. Now it was crumbling on one side and looked as forlorn as the rest of the house and grounds. Overall, it was a gray and dismal place, lonely and forgotten and perfectly suited to Jean-Marc and his perversions.

Jean-Marc smiles as he contemplates his new cellar. The dark, the brick walls, the dampness and smell of mold and decay, only needing the addition of a couple of cells to make it perfect for his use. He had been to the hardware store last week for a few “supplies” that he had to leave behind at his last location. His two pets were chained in the basement, simple minded creatures that would do his every bidding. They had been with him some time and were as twisted and sick as Jean-Marc was. They knew his every perversion and lived for helping him indulge. Not only in luring women to him, assisting in the torture, they would collect blood if it flowed freely to use on Jean-Marc. It was the only time they were allowed to touch him, when the lust grew too much to be contained and he would permit them to release him of it using the blood. His childhood had been so perverted that any kind of normal relationship or sex was not possible for him. The thought of having sex, actually sharing part of himself physically was repulsive to Jean-Marc, it was something he would never consider. He lived for the fear, the terror that he could create and control. In every woman he saw his mother and wanted to inflict the pain and horror that he had suffered as a child onto them. He smiled grimly when he thought back on the events of this past evening. Alise reminded him in looks of his mother. She had been a beautiful woman, long blonde hair, china doll face. But it hid the evil, perverse woman inside. One who never should have been allowed near children, much less allowed to have one of her own.

As Jean-Marc watches the girls go in and out of the bar, his thoughts drift to Alise, I wonder how long it will take to break her? Make her beg for release from pain... a week? Two? No one will want her when I am done with her. Not even that gargoyle.... Just the thought of Stoney making him seethe with rage.. I should dump her rotting carcass at his feet, that should break him and teach him not to challenge his betters.... and he laughs as a plan begins to form in his mind...

A young woman, with a blonde ponytail walks out of the bar, alone. Jean-Marc watches as she looks up and down the street. Hmmmm, alone and looking for a ride? How splendidly perfect.... He pats his shirt pocket, making sure the filled syringe is still concealed and he approaches the girl.....

Jean-Marc nods his head slightly at Ob, “Au revoir. I am looking forward to it. More than you can possibly imagine..” He laughs and turns on his heel. A couple of the shifters follow him out the door and into the night. He continues to laugh as he heads down the sidewalk, If they only knew, the gargoyle saved her this time but it wont happen again....

Enjoying Rainas company, Alise is not paying attention to things around her. Her mind busy with some of the images Stoney has been sending her from the stage. She doesn't hear anyone coming up next to her, until she hears a man clear his throat. She turns and her mouth drops open. It cant be, it cant be... 

“Hello, Alise. Imagine my surprise at finding you here of all places. I thought with your upbringing this kind of... establishment... would be beneath you. Your papa would not be pleased...” He stood over her, partly in shadow, acting as if he were scolding a naughty child. Alise would recognize the voice anywhere, the arrogant tone he used with almost everyone, the attitude that the world was his and women were just playthings.

She stands slowly, fear making her legs jelly and her mind slow to respond. Monty at the bar has a clear view of her face, and the total abject terror in her eyes. He nods to Patti and mouths “trouble”....

“Did you think I would really let you go so easily?” Jean-Marc looks her up and down as if judging a horse. “I must admit you look much better in modern dress. I very nearly did not recognize you. Your mother ruined my plans for you, and what delicious plans those were. But now there is no one to stand in my way. We can return to Paris..”

Alise shakes her head, “No, I am not going anywhere with you. Do not touch me...” and she jerks her arm away as he reaches out to grab her. Taking a step backwards, she backs into Raina, who had stood as soon as Alise did, nearly knocking her over. As the stranger steps into the light his face is visible to her for the first time. He has aged some, maybe just a few years. But the sense of entitlement was written all over him. He reaches for her again, and now Alise was afraid beyond reason, she calls to Stoney with her mind. He feels her panic and looks up to see Jean-Marc. Raina is keeping Alise behind her and pushing Jean-Marcs arm away..

Raina is almost overpowered by the feelings of rage and evil coming from this man. She positions herself between Alise and the stranger. She has the knife in her vest, but doesnt want Alise caught in the middle. Afraid Alise is frightened enough to bolt, she keeps a hand on her, not sure if any of the shifters are here with this one. If she runs that might be worse. Damn it to hell, this isnt going to end well...and could be a bloodbath before its over. Wishing she had brought at least one of her swords downstairs, whacking this guys head off with the broadsword would actually be most enjoyable..

When Jean-Marc sees the gargoyles coming towards the table, he raises his voice enough so that they can hear him. He wants nothing more at this time than to hurt Alise, and takes pleasure in the pain and horror he sees in her face.

“Well, well, so that's how it is. Tell me, are you fucking both of them or just the one I.. met.. once before? Pity I didn't kill him then. And pity you aren't still pure. You would have made me a pretty penny in Paris.. But now?...” and he shrugs his shoulders, “maybe not so much. Although I might still make good money selling your...shall we say services?....to my friends. They prefer to play in the dungeon, but since you arent noble any longer that shouldnt be a problem.. .Not that Americans have any idea about nobility... And come to think of it, werent you dead the last time I saw you? Hhmmm... we really need to do some catching up...”

Jean-Marc takes a step closer to Alise, and Raina matches him, not willing to let him any nearer than he already is, and never taking her eyes off him. what a perverted bastard. How the hell did Alise even get messed up with this one? If he grabs for her again he is going to be very, very sorry....did he say dead??

Jean-Marc continues, “Oh, my dear, that idea doesnt meet with your approval? I suppose you think you actually love this, this whatever he is. You cant really think he will stay with the likes of you. What kind of life do you think you would have? He wont marry you, my dear, he has already had you. And children, what kind of monsters would those be? But I might be willing to share some of my profits with him. Assuming he was the first one to fuck you, I suppose thats something.” Alise gasps, and starts to cry.

Jean-Marc smiles with enjoyment at the sight of her tears....

Jean-Marc could barely contain his rage when he saw the gargoyle kiss Alise's hand. I wonder what he would think if I made her one of my pets. What would he think to see her in chains on her knees groveling, which is where she belongs after Paris... The thought bringing an evil smile to his face. The band must all be kin, probably not the others at the table with her, but they are just women.... He settles back in the booth, aware of the animosity some of the employees are feeling and not caring, being above the concerns of mere workers. Jean-Marc cant decide if he should talk to Alise now or come back another time. He has to return to Paris in a few months and wonders how she would look on his arm. Only after he broke her, of course, and made sure she was..docile.... the thought making him laugh quietly. Revenge after all this time, how sweet.....

The bar is busy, Monty and Patti moving fast, but in sync, getting all the orders out. No one pays a lot of attention to the new comer, except maybe Monty, who recognizes an old soul, but dislikes him immediately. He orders a cognac, which gets Monty's attention. “Its very expensive, but we do have a good one.” The stranger looks at Monty for a minute, as if he couldnt believe someone working at a bar would have spoken to him. “I dont recall asking you how much it cost..” Monty made a mental note to point out the stranger to Pandora. He couldnt possibly be a friend of hers..so arrogant and he acts like he owns the place... Monty hands him the drink...

The good looking stranger finds a booth in a dark corner and positions himself so that he can watch the activity in the entire bar. He brushes his light brown hair out of eyes and takes a sip of cognac. Not bad, not bad at all for such a backwards place. Now if only I had a Cuban cigar.... Why did I feel the need to re-visit old haunts? Especially this one.

He starts watching the group with the tables pushed together. They are laughing and teasing and totally unaware of the stranger or his thoughts. Suddenly his emotions flash across his face, disbelief, then rage, then a calm. The calm worse than the rage, a plotting, evil calm, deep rooted and planted for years. He slides further back into the shadows so that he can observe for a bit longer without being seen. He has no intentions of hiding in the shadows for very long, he just wants to be sure who he is dealing with. That has to be her, I swore I left her for dead. There must be some magic at work here... and the gargoyle, he is the one from Paris, no mistake about that. The others must be kin..