A large man, sporting long braids in both his red beard and hair, carefully watched from a little outside dinner as they walked out of a hospital. He sipped slowly at a glass of beer in front of him. From the outside appearances, he was lost in thought, but he was intrigued by the couple.

As they disappeared around the corner, the young man limping slightly, the big man got smoothly to his combat shod feet, leaving a twenty on the table, and followed at a distance. They moved down the bustling sidewalk filled with bodies bundled up against the cold of the recent arctic blast that had moved through. The young man stuck out in the crowd—the boy's eyes were the color of ice kept sweeping the crowd nervously.

They quickly got into a civic and went to race off. The big man memorized the licensed plate and picked up his cell phone. His contacts could trace where that woman lived, and then he and that boy could have a conversation about why he was here.

"I need some answer's Kyle," Jane pressed.

Heath was silent while they drove through Bastrop. She looked at him worriedly and reached out a reassuring hand towards him. Heath flinched backward a little.

"Kyle..."

"That's not my real name," He said softly, his eyes locked outside at the passing scenery. She stopped the car in the middle of the road.

"What?" she asked with incredulity.

"I told you there are things about that are best kept unknown. There are people that are after me that if they found me, could endanger others. And I have never been good with trust."

"Kyle or whatever your name is, you can't keep running forever. I feel like I know you, and you are not a bad person."

Heath looked directly at her. Jane's eyes locked on him, and she felt her will drain away.

"Please don't ask me again. I don't want you hurt, and I need to stay hidden from that old world." Heath lowered his eyes. Jane felt everything return but could not bring herself to pursue the conversation further.

"If you feel the need to talk, Kyle, I am here. You will always be Kyle to me." She smiled lovingly at him. He let out a deep breath. It was one of his more closely guarded secrets, and he had used it very sparingly. A child could inherit traits closer to either parent, and he took after his father very strongly. But being only half Shtriga, using compulsion drained him physically, and if his father knew about his abilities, he would be killed as an abomination.

Jane continued their drive without incident, and they arrived back at her small, one bedroom house on the outskirts of town. The oak tree out front had survived many hurricanes and grown large enough for three men to put their arms around. She had put a fish pond and waterfall underneath it. The sound of the water was almost hypnotic.

As she shut off the car, a thump sounded on Heath's window, startling them. A strange man with a red, braided beard stood outside his window. He motioned with his hand for Heath to get out of the car, showing a mark on his neck.

"Jane, stay in the car, please. If anything happens, drive and fast." Heath said in an even, steady tone. "Do you understand?"

"Is this something with your past?"

"Yes and no."

Heath opened the door and got out of the car carefully. The man who stood before him was big, close to seven feet. His arms rippled as he backed up to make room for Heath, keeping a respectable distance between the two. His green eyes took a careful measure of the boy before giving him a quick nod.

"Grand Master Quintin sends his regards and wishes for me to find out why a Dhampir from Maramures has broken the Territory Truces?" the man's gruff voice sounded like a growl from a hungry bear. As he finished, he crossed his arms across his barrel chest and waited expectantly for Heath's answer.

"Territory Truces? Grand Master Quintin?" Heath looked confused at the man and heard a rumble of laughter coming from the man.

"My, aren't we in trouble, boy. An uninitiated Dhampir on the run, one without any knowledge of the outside world yet. What house are you from, boy?"

"I am of the Bloodline Baciu, and my trouble is my own," Heath said nervously. The man's green eyes danced amusingly at the mention of Heath's Master's house.

"Well, Gerald's chickens are finally coming home to roost. My Master Quintin will be the judge on whether your trouble is your own. Mind if your lady friend here gives us a lift back to Bucharest?" The large man uncrossed his arms and started towards Heath. The Dhampir crouched into a fighting stance.

"JANE DRIVE!"

The big man's movements blurred as his arms came around for a strike. Heath tried to block it, the force of the older Dhampir knocked him backward into the car. He struggled back to his feet, but a big combat boot followed in, and the world went black.

Author's note: HAPPY THANKSGIVING!