Blood Song

"Go ahead. I'm not afraid of your boyfriend."

"Really?" I taunted him.

"No," he admitted. "He terrifies me, but only when he does that vampire black eye thing. Even though I've never actually seen him in action, I'd probably crap my pants if he were on the other side."

"That would be a reasonable reaction," I told him dryly, remembering how Angus had snapped Jack's limbs as if they were twigs.

"You're getting a bit scary too, Sis."

"I know," I grinned evilly at him.

"Seriously, though, you're happy with him?"

"More than you'll ever know," I told him with conviction.

"It's just that the whole thing seemed a bit sudden, to say the least. You guys got engaged within, what, three days of meeting?"

"I know. It's weird, but you'll understand it eventually, brother. For some reason, when I became an iron metaboliser my instincts became so much stronger. And when I first met Angus I just connected with him somehow, and he became incredibly important to me. I've never been in love before, but to me that's what it is. I can't explain it any better than that."

"You sounded just like Angus when you called me brother," he said sourly. "I know what you mean, though. It's almost as if your whole being is telling you something, even if what it's telling you makes your mind boggle. Like when Angus resuscitated you by giving you his blood to drink. I didn't freak out, and to this day I still have no idea why. I seriously should have freaked out."

"I'm glad you didn't," I told him with feeling.

"Me too. I'd hate to think what Angus would have done if I had. Maybe my instincts were kicking into self-preservation mode."

"Maybe," I chuckled at him. "Or maybe your instincts were telling you that it was the right thing for him to do. I think you're more iron metaboliser than you think, Mark. I wonder if we should talk to Angus about giving you iron now."

"I prefer the term vampire," he grinned back at me.

"You would," I said sourly.

"I'll close the windows."

"Thanks. We should get back."

Angus

They returned within an hour, Rebecca carrying a wooden box tucked under her arm. Mark trailed behind her, chuckling about something while he kicked off his shoes. I had just brewed some more coffee in preparation for going through some of the information Fergus had sent me, and Mark made a beeline for it. Rebecca came over to where I sat on the couch and curled up next to me, her head leaning on my shoulder, the box in her lap.