Wonderland
Truths

I stared at the photograph again, mentally tracing the waves of hair and the soft curves of the young girl's cheek. Katherine Worlow had been a beautiful woman, full of bright life and energy. Something I may have envied given my darker mood and quiet way's - if Katherine were still alive. The picture was at least five years out of date, taken when the girl was still an undergraduate flush with enthusiasm, and I knew the reality of Katherine's situation was very different from a glamour shots photo.

"You want me to teach Katherine?" I asked, avoiding the word sister around Lanthinel. I could see the frustration and anger over everything that had happened to her in his cool, bright blue eyes, and I knew he needed very little to push him over the edge into a violent outburst. Reaching for my small cup of tea, I leaned back in the office chair and waited for Lanth to explain himself.

"She needs to be taught how to defend herself," he started, "And Andrew doesn't - "

Lanthinel stopped and considered his wording, running a hand over his hair in frustration. "Andrew doesn't believe she is listening to him," he said lightly, avoiding the insult which came to mind about Andrew's failure in teaching Katherine. Although the vampire wasn't here, Lanthinel tried to be cordial toward him as a member of our Oath Circle. Without it, I have no doubt in my mind that the two of them would have tried to kill each other long ago over their differences.

"She is very difficult for him to reach or empathize with, so he asked me," he added.

And so you come to me, I thought, nodding in understanding. I knew Lanthinel couldn't bear to be in the same room with Katherine now, particularly after their one and only meeting in Andrew's home, which ended bitterly for both of them. Trying to teach her to defend herself would only compound the problem.

Lanth glanced away, the frustration and anger dying in an instant to cold despair.

I sipped the tea, trying to clear my own sense of loss, the silent longing deep inside of me. "I would have said no to Andrew," I murmured, my voice a whisper as I spoke from the rim of the cup, "But I will teach her. For you, and for her memory."

"Thank you," he said, though not with the relief I would have hoped for, and fell silent. The air felt heavy between us for a moment, his silence replacing the friendly gratitude, as was his way. Although he appreciated my aid, I'm sure, he knew I was already hip deep in vampires and their ilk, training Cassandra and working with Angelo and Sharpe. Given his deep loathing for them, I knew my involvement with the local Kindred didn't sit well with him.

"Is she willing to practice here or do I need to go out to Andrew's place?"

"She would do almost anything to get out from under Andrew's watchful eyes," he laughed bitterly. I realized he was still proud of Katherine, in some small way, even though her presence revolted him. "She will come, at least for a while."

There was another lapse of silence. Lanth glanced out of the one-way window to watch the practicing students in the dojo proper, his long blond hair sweeping across his back.

"Have you told them about Ariel?" I asked quietly.

"No," he replied quickly, looking back to me. I knew he was hesitant to tell both BTG and the Kindred that she was Fae. It was a fact he shared with me only because the secret would be a painful burden on him otherwise. For months he had been watching Katherine from afar, silently praying for the slumbering Fae spirit to rise to the surface. His friendship with Ariel had slowly developed over centuries, I knew, and it seemed a fitting denouement that she would be born into the life of his sister. Of course, he was not there the night Katherine died, and I knew he blamed himself as much as Billy and the Black Hand for what happened to her.

I glanced at the photograph again, where the young woman's gaze seemed fixed on me. I knew of Katherine through Lanthinel, of course, though I'd never actually met her. Still, even I found something familiar in her soulful green eyes and the little quirk of a smile. The thought of Ariel's romanticism and puzzling sense of humor brought the faintest of smiles to my lips. It felt more than a little painful.

"I can't tell them until I tell her," Lanth sighed.

With that he rose and moved toward the door, his business here completed. I watched his retreating back as he moved through the dojo, skirting close to the walls to avoid interrupting my students. I knew the mask came down over his true feelings the moment he stepped out of my office, but the anger and despair were evident in his every movement.

"Don’t wait too long, my friend," I whispered after he had gone.

***

For some time, I have acted as the go between for the Fae court and the Kindred of the area. As "the Fae who walks among the dead," as Liam called me once, I have seen and learned much of vampires and their ways.

Katherine arrived on her own as expected, since I specifically instructed Andrew not to accompany her, knowing she would be more amicable outside the presence of her "mentor". She was dressed in tight blue jeans and a soft burgundy sweater, her hair cascading down around the turtleneck collar in glossy auburn waves. She looked freshly fed, her skin pink and her eyes a startling green. Given this, it would have been difficult for someone else to realize her true nature from afar; she still moved more or less like a human being, though I recognized the languor of her bearing, the carefulness of every gesture as if she might shatter. Her suspicions, however, were obvious from the wary lances around the dojo to the fact that she stayed near the entrance without moving toward my office.

"Hello?" she called as I looked up at her from the desk, through the open office door. Her voice was different from what I expected, tense and slightly husky as if afraid of speaking too loudly, lacking the melodic quality I imagined of the young woman in the photo. Still unaccustomed to her new senses and capabilities, I thought. She reminded me of myself, lifetimes ago. Quiet and curious, without knowing what to expect next.

I stood up and motioned for her to come in, grabbing my small china cup and walking out to meet her. I went over what little I knew about her from Lanthinel and hearsay from the others, though it was her potential similarities to Ariel which interested me most. Andrew doubted her sanity, of course, inasmuch as it applied to vampires, since her suicide attempt and the attack on Steph. Yet she looked relatively calm and surprisingly normal to me, like many of the young women when they first come into the dojo.

"Katherine, it's nice to finally meet you," I said as I moved to the small table set off to one side of the main practice floor, "Please, have a seat. Can I get you a cup of something to warm your hands with? It's a cold night out." I smiled as warmly as I could, but I've always been self-conscious about my smile, especially around people who don't know me well.

"Yes, thank you," she said softly, mildly surprised at the offer and my understanding. The scent of the cold outside was all over her, and I could tell from her slightly guarded posture that it was painful for her. She looked around as if expecting to see someone else, "I'm here to meet Ashley Dochev?"

"And so you have." I gave her a quick curtsy, though the loose pants I wore were a poor substitute for a proper skirt.

I got a blank stare for my efforts.

"Ashley Dochev, at your service," I explained, giving her a moment to gather herself, "Let me get you that tea."

It was understandable; no one ever expects the one hundred and five pound goth-girl to be anything other than that - a little goth-girl. Andrew no doubt had told her that I was a master of both martial arts and swordplay. Then again, Andrew has never understood me either. He just respects what I can do.

Katherine looked around quietly as I made her drink. She examined the wall of antique blades and weapons, studying the small placard which displayed its name, age and snippets of history. On the far wall there were bokken, shinai and other practice weapons, of course, but the first time everyone came into the dojo they examined the real weapons first, with no small amount of fascination. Swords were exotic in this day and age, after all, museum pieces with little real significance to the average person.

She was examining a 14^th century scimitar when I returned. A flowing blade in an ornate scabbard of dark wood engraved with a series of Chinese characters. I allowed Katherine a moment to enjoy the weapon, sensing the muted wonder in her otherwise still expression. Perhaps she found something familiar in the style of the weapon and the scabbard, which resembled Ariel's own rose-etched blade from so long ago? A little sadness came over me at the memory. But either way, it pleased me to see her curiosity. It was a good way to begin.

"I'm not what most people expect when they meet me in person," I said quietly.

As she turned I offered her the mug. There was a pause as her long, delicate fingers clasped around it, and the pleasure she took in its heat was palpable. A small smile graced her features for the first time, which also pleased me, and her eyes closed as she breathed in the steam rising from the tea. Her neutral, businesslike tone warmed slightly.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Not at all," I replied, shrugging it off, "That blade is called the Jian, wielded by a Muslim officer in the revolution that brought about the fall of the Yuan dynasty. One of the last known practitioners of the Koran-sword style of martial arts."

"It's beautiful," Katherine agreed, running her fingers along the brass inlay and the tassle on the hilt, and then she motioned to the three dozen other blades and weapons before us. "The entire collection is for that matter."

"They aren't a collection. Each one gets used, either by a trainer here in the dojo or eventually by a student who is gifted one on graduation," I explained as I returned to my seat at the table, "But that's for later. Now I would like to hear about you. I would like to ask you a few questions before we start."

"What sort of questions?" she frowned, suddenly guarded again. Obviously expecting me to inquire about painful subjects and becoming immediately defensive as a result. I quickly realized she might perhaps be harder to get information out of than Lanthinel, and he was the master of being obsessively private.

"Practical ones," I assured her, "Nothing overly personal."

Eyeing me warily, Katherine languidly returned to the table, pausing only long enough to give the Jian another lingering glance. I knew that wounded look of hers. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the dip of the chin, the wistful half-grimace on the lips. I could have sworn I heard Ariel's voice for an instant, probably saying something from my memory. Or perhaps she really was speaking somehow, despite what had happened to this girl?

Hugging the mug with both hands, Katherine gave me a disgruntled look and invited me to ask away.

I asked about her combat experiences, both while living and after the dark kiss, though they were minimal. In life, Katherine had been very much a "normal" young woman and such things hadn't even occurred to her. Her only experience since came from hunting and from raging against Andrew, neither of which had been very educational. Andrew had wasted weeks teaching her the finer points of attacking and neglected defense almost entirely.

As we discussed her education, however, I was surprised to find her to be very knowledgeable about psychology. She had, I discovered, been studying to become a child and adolescent therapist.

"That will make this easier," I said with a small chuckle, though I saw she didn't understand, "It means you can understand your opponents, and you can learn to adapt to their tricks quickly."

Katherine gave a small frown, which spoke volumes to me about her disdain. Every expression she wore was faint, barely touching her features, and the change in her voice was so slight most people might not have noticed the emotion in it. But I understood perfectly. She was in pain and trying very hard not to let it show. Anger seeped out the most, but there was also vulnerability to her, kept buried in the background as much as possible.

"That may help, I'm sure, especially if you've got time to prepare," she replied in a low, almost purring tone, slightly sneering, "But what difference does it make when a vampire or werewolf can just rip you in half? Eventually they'll win through sheer force."

Katherine set the mug down on the table, very gently and cautiously as if she might break it, and hugged herself. Distancing herself from me and this conversation by setting aside my gift. Her shining green eyes - was the color fading? - glanced away as she did so, angry at herself for the cynicism of the comment and how rude she thought she sounded.

"Well, do you mind if I show you what I mean?" I asked softly, trying to keep her attention focused on the conversation instead of folding back inward on her own self-loathing, "It'll take a few months to get the basics but you could get a lot from it. And I would like to help you if I can."

"I suppose so," she murmured, then sighed, "Yes. I could use the help if…"

Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken if hanging in the air.

"Excellent," I smiled, "Then we should start with the first lesson - picking your weapon."

Katherine's brow furrowed. "What? Only one?"

"A weapon is not just about having a tool to hit things with. It's a choice of your style and capabilities, as well as your desires." I motioned towards the wall of practice weapons. "Choose the weapon we’ll start with. I think it best if we start with a weapon before I show you any hand to hand."

Shrugging ever so slightly, Katherine glided out of her chair and walked toward the weapon racks along the wall, running her hands back through her thick, curly hair. I knew she was angry with herself and perhaps a little frustrated with being here. Her movements were quicker this time and her breathing had stopped dead. I wondered if she was aware of it. For one of the Kindred Katherine was very emotional and volatile, more so than any I've met before. Even Andrew had remarked upon her unusual behavior since the Embrace.

I was reminded of Ariel's dramatic moods, the intensity with which she tore off in search of something new, whether it was a natural wonder or a new lover. The passion which she poured into every song or story. And toward the end the growing weariness of her soul, which I saw painfully reflected in Katherine. There had never been any half-measures with her, only extremes. She accepted nothing but the purest virtues. Yet she was always serious when necessary, thoughtful in a rarely gentle way, and a noble warrior when pressed. Despite the occasional frustration, I had come to love her because of it.

Through a spill of hair, Katherine's eyes ranged over the practice equipment, leaning her head to one side as she scanned the staves. But after a moment she folded her arms under her breasts and moved on. She probably doesn't think they would be all that useful, I thought to myself as I sipped my tea and waited patiently.

"Do you teach many of..." She hesitated as she sought a way to avoid saying my kind, still perusing the bokkens. Her voice was calmer but had none of its earlier warmth. "Do you teach many Kindred?"

"I've only taught three," I replied, smiling faintly at the great deliberation with which she studied one of the practice weapons, which was built to resemble a cutlass or scimitar, "Andrew, Cassandra and yourself. Though when the Fae and the Kindred need to discuss something I guess I am the de facto ambassador between them."

"You don't seem like a Changeling?"

Katherine glanced over her shoulder at me. Yes, the brilliant green was fading as her victim's blood cooled, slipping into an iridescent grey. It was an in-between color now, almost purple, reminiscent of Ariel's own eyes. But there was a coldness to her gaze which hadn't been there earlier, a look I'd seen often enough. Immortal eyes appraising me, studying me as prospective prey. It was instinctive for her, I knew, and not something I could blame her for. The tension she felt at guarding her emotions brought such things to the surface. She glanced away after a moment, seeming to realize what she had been doing.

"I am Sluagh. We are a far cry from the beauty and grace of the Sidhe or Satyrs. We are a darker kith." I paused as Katherine continued to walk down the line of choices. She half-turned to look at me again, her pretty red hair swaying against her back as she did so, as if asking me to continue. This time she was more in control of herself. She didn't examine me like I was a talking meal.

"It's said we are the ones that skulk in the night stealing babies and murdering gypsies, or at least that's how the stories go." I gave her a nonchalant shrug, but I knew she could tell by my voice that I was partially ashamed of my kind. I tried vainly to cover up my emotions: "But myths are never a hundred percent true."

Katherine laughed hollowly. It wasn't directed at me, I realized, but at herself.

"You can hardly be as cruel or as evil as I am," she murmured, hugging herself as she stared at the weapons in front of her, "At least you don't seem like it.

"We all have good moments and bad moments, what matters is learning and striving to do better," I replied in an equally quiet whisper. Slightly startled, she glanced up at me, realizing for the first time how sharp my senses were, possibly equal to those of her kind. For a moment the predator look was back in her eyes, reappraising me based on this new information, but it was gone quickly.

"I have very keen senses, painfully so in many respects," I explained to her, "It is one of our gifts, the same as the whisper, one of our birthrights. Sluagh cannot yell or even talk in a normal tone. Some call us cursed for it, but it is just what we are."

I chuckled as Katherine studied me with her strangely luminous eyes, now grey, realizing I had been whispering this entire time. Trying to determine how she hadn't noticed earlier. Once the initial surprise wore off, it didn't seem to perturb her as much as the other Kindred I'd encountered to realize I was on par with them in these ways. In fact, the young vampire seemed to find some consolation in it. Perhaps because she wasn't as alone as she expected to be. Or perhaps because, with her acute senses serving the hunt, it reassured her to know there were others out there who might be able to stop her if need be.

"Largely it goes unnoticed," I added quietly, "But that is also one of the Sluagh birthrights. We are usually unnoticed or ignored our entire lives. At most only a few friends will ever remember us..."

Nodding slightly, Katherine turned back to the weapon racks and collected a long fencing blade, short hilted and with a blade resembling a saber. I felt the words die in my throat as I watched her take the wooden practice blade through a few swipes, remembering when Ariel had instructed me in fencing around the turn of the 15th century. That had been in the Auvergne, hadn't it? That little stretch of French land between the Dordogne and Garonne which the Satyr loved so much. Difficult terrain, but then Ariel had always loved mountains and high forests. The memory also called to mind jaunts to Paris under Philip the Fair, who seemed hell bent on aggravating the church, the first time Ariel had entered mortal society in years.

Good times, I thought wryly.

"Did you find one you like?" I asked, pushing my thoughts of the ancient past behind me.

"Perhaps?" Katherine frowned, a little unsatisfied by the wooden weapon but enjoying the feel of it nonetheless. She'd chosen it for its weight, of course, selecting something which she could have used before her Embrace. Now it probably felt too light for her, I thought, but that would only make it easier to wield.

"Then we should begin."

***

Her beginnings were for the most part poor and undisciplined, as I expected. She lacked the coordination and reflexes to do much more then flail the blade. Her style began with unimaginative forward and overhead strikes, staying to a single facing without taking into account terrain or position. But what Katherine lacked in skill she made up for in keen observation and ferocity. I learned much about her blood talents during those early sessions, particularly her speed, and there were several occasions where she might have torn the dojo apart out of frustration with her clumsiness.

Katherine had potential but lacked the inspiration or desire to learn. She waned many times in her studies over the first few months, gradually losing interest only to have it renewed when I demonstrated something different or following yet another vehement argument with Andrew. Largely her training went slowly, gaining momentum only during periods of intense stress. I knew she was struggling outside of the dojo, though I heard little of what happened to her. Understandably she wanted to get out from underneath Andrew's "care" but without resources or initiative Katherine found herself hopelessly mired. I began to worry that she'd take to the streets as so many Gangrel have, regardless of the toll it took on their sanity.

She became increasingly erratic after the first few months, missing sessions or arriving late. Or worse, covered in blood and angry at everything. These furies rarely lasted long, however. Her energy spent itself quickly and Katherine would collapse, crying on the floor of the dojo and curling herself into a ball. Through it all I gave her what comfort I could, trying desperately to keep her from falling into despair. And it seemed my efforts were rewarded, at least in small ways. I would occasionally find her huddled outside of the dojo like a stray, seeking company. She feared spending time with her friends, unable to trust herself. Once, Andrew even came looking for her there, explaining that she hadn't returned the night before, though we didn't find her.

She didn't talk much, of course.

And while I saw aspects of Ariel within her, Katherine never once showed any of my dear friend's humor or passion, until I finally considered Ariel forever lost to us. In many ways I began to see her not as Ariel but as her wayward daughter, searching for something to hold onto during the cold nights after her Embrace. Shadows of her own doubt and worth hung over her like a swollen storm cloud, waiting to spill forth and ruin her. But she kept coming to see me, which was in itself a hopeful sign.

Among the fighting lessons, I also explained what I knew of the dangers she might face. I told her of the changing breeds and the kiths of the Fae, what I knew of the Technocracy and Traditions. Most of all I told her the secrets of the Kindred, her own kind. I taught her how to prepare against them, how to read their movements and what to expect from members of the various clans and factions. Katherine feigned disinterest through most of these lessons, but having learned years ago to read a vampire’s reactions, I knew she was listening and learning nonetheless.

Her actual skill with a blade didn't improve until one night almost 5 months later. Katherine walked in the door surprisingly early, freshly fed and cleanly dressed in dark clothing, leather jacket and the sunglasses she'd taken to wearing to conceal her iridescent grey eyes from herself and others. Traditional vampire attire, which wasn't a good sign. Nor were the stiff and cold movements of her body, which told me she was as tightly wound as she'd ever been.

Lanthinel had spoken to me the day before, disappointed and angry, informing me that Katherine frenzied during a meeting and attacked he and again Stephen, but I never learned much detail beyond this.

"You're early?" I asked as I continued sweeping the floor.

I never desired to sound cold to her, but in many ways too many words can drive a vampire to the brink of madness as often as silence can drive a human insane - and Kindred are known to do considerably more damage in their blind furies. This was particularly true of Katherine, who seemed to think she might shatter if she spoke too much or for too long, giving vent to the building tension which Andrew had taken to calling "madness". So brief and sometimes unbearably terse conversations were the result. The longest conversation we'd ever had came on one of her worst nights, during which she lay trembling in the dark with the blood of a young woman all over her hands and clothes.

Katherine didn't reply for a long moment, staring around at the dojo as if not knowing quite where she was. Or, more likely, as if she hadn't expected to find herself here. Anxiety aside, she looked surprisingly normal standing there with her hands stuffed in her pockets. Even her long, curly red hair was brushed out and allowed to fall free, but her lips were pressed tightly together as if holding in a scream. I've seen this sort of thing many times before, vampires struggling to reassert their humanity after a frenzy. The vampware and slight trembling, however, were signs she still needed to empty herself of some anger on something or someone.

"I didn't have anything else to occupy myself with," she whispered.

Except for the occasional explosion, Katherine usually bottled up her rage for fear of hurting herself or those around her. Such was the case that night, though her "normal" façade was already beginning to crack somewhat. My gaze flicked over her in brief examination. I knew she was Gangrel, and having frenzied there would be some mark of it upon her person, a sign of degeneration. But there was nothing obvious. Thus far Katherine had escaped the worst physical changes, though the effects on her mind - the feline behavior, the voice, the way she moved - was becoming increasingly evident. She needed to find a balance between what she had been and what she was becoming or she wouldn't last the year.

"Then I believe we should meditate for a while before practicing."

Shaking her head slightly, allowing curls of her hair to fall forward across her face, Katherine stared at me warily - puzzled, trying to determine my meaning. She didn't mean to say no, I gathered; she was merely surprised by the suggestion. What good was meditation, after all, for one such as she? Perhaps she heard something in my tone as well, for her posture tensed in a guarding stance, the slight cringing of an animal in unfamiliar surroundings. Such instinctive reflexes were becoming more and more a part of her, I knew, so much so that I doubt she was consciously aware of having them.

Yet there was something familiar about it. The weariness in her eyes, the doubting.

My thoughts flew back into the haze of past lives, memories which did not belong to the here and now. To a moment centuries ago in a ruined villa amid the rolling hills of France, standing with Ariel in the auburn light of sunset. Her expression had been the same then. Not for me, of course, not even as I whispered to her, asking her to teach me. No, Ariel was suffering much as Katherine suffered now, in her own quiet, gentle way, full of longing. But the smile with which she answered my request was radiant, bringing warmth to her violet eyes and pensive features, as if the shadow had never been there at all.

You see, this is how I learned swordplay. Ariel kindly took me under her wing, teaching me styles and techniques, forms and counters, everything I needed to look the part or to fend off brigands along a lonely road. And there were many of those back then. The blade hadn't always been her way either, she explained with the grace of a storyteller, it was an art which she'd been forced to learn centuries earlier, begging instruction from the luminaries of our kind, particularly the departing Sidhe. An art which had earned her the title of Knight. She had changed as the world had changed, as did we all.

We both found comfort in the teaching, in each other's presence.

At first it might have been dancing - something else which Ariel knew well - but after the early lessons the Satyr delved into the heart of the matter. The aspect of fighting which gave her strength, which had changed her the most. And which at times I think even she found troubling, being so removed from her basic nature. She spoke of the key, the portion of the warrior's way that meant the difference between victory and defeat, between life and death, but it was too early for me to understand it.

"A warrior's soul is not to be trifled with," she told me once, "It has the passion of an artist, the willingness of a lover and the eyes of a killer. But you must be willing to leave everything behind when you embrace that passion. To do anything less invites hesitation, weakness, and death."

Only after I learned every technique she could teach me and had proven myself to be a competent duelist did Ariel force me to comprehend this final lesson. I had already abandoned my sorceries, my kith and my ancient haunts, but this was not enough. To truly understand I had to be willing to give up everything, that which I held closest to my heart - the guilt and secret loathing I carried deep within me, hatred of humanity for bringing Winter, rage at the Sidhe for abandoning us, and at myself for what I had become.

She could not teach me this lesson, or explain it in words. She showed me the only way I could have learned it - she fought me until I allowed it into myself.

I looked up at Katherine, realizing again just how much our roles had reversed since then. She stared at me with her shimmering grey eyes from over the rims of her shades, dragging me back to the moment, back to the present.

"Meditate?" Katherine echoed. The word nearly set her teeth on edge.

"You have become skilled enough to be dangerous," I told her, sweeping the last of the floor. I specifically did not elaborate further, leaving the comment hanging in the air.

When I said nothing else, Katherine clenched her hands in her jacket pockets and sighed in frustration, wondering what I meant. The noise was almost a growl. I knew she didn't tolerate uncertainty or half-explanations well; she tired quickly of such games, and it provoked the same resentment she felt toward Andrew and the others. And coming from me, someone she'd taken to viewing as a friend - or so I hoped, at least - it was especially irritating. Wariness shifted to anger in her eyes.

Suspicion is a burden for everyone, especially for those of the Sluagh kith, as our life is measured in secrets and forgotten, hidden things. I knew the look in her eyes very well. I have worn its mask myself on many occasions.

"You must learn to focus that skill, or you will never succeed," I told her finally, speaking without sympathy or care as I normally did, seeking to provoke her further. To dredge up some emotion from Katherine instead of this burned out, bitter resignation. And as I spoke, the mood of the room changed, heaviness filling the air around us either by tension or the glamour of the moment - though in many respects they are one and the same.

"Succeed at what?" she muttered, giving me a disdainful look. Now her frustration and distrust were palpable in the air. She hated being talked to this way, in stops and starts, feeling patronized. If I kept this up for long, I suspected she would storm out of the dojo and give up entirely. "At killing? I think I'm already quite accomplished at that, Ashley, thank you. Or do you mean living like this - " She gestured at herself. " - and if so, why the hell should I want to do that?"

I glanced up at her, speaking calmly: "At not becoming a beast."

Sulking, Katherine turned her back on me and drifted away a short distance, realizing I was baiting her and refusing to be drawn into this subject. This conversation was the worst for her, I knew. How many times and in how many ways had she discussed it with Andrew? Or with Steph? No one understood her suffering, she believed, and trying to convince her to accept her new existence - even if only to regroup so she could mount a meaningful struggle against it - sickened her. Yet in her unwillingness to face the truth, stark and practical though it might be, there was a kernel of hope.

She did not want to be a monster.

Patiently, I set the broom against the wall and returned to the practice mats. My hand sought out the scabbard of Nata, my own blade, and found it with ease, pulling the weapon from the rack. Katherine only glanced back at me as she heard the whisper of steel being drawn, my blade flashing silver in the light. Her grey eyes flickered between the sword and I. She had never seen me holding live steel; I only ever used practice weapons or my bare hands when teaching her. Nata was a relic, a fencing blade forged a century before the Renaissance had truly begun, engraved with a flight of crows along the blade. Its history was a mystery even to me, but this only heightened my love of it. It was a thing of wonder, a work of skill and art, and a puzzle to be solved in time.

It is with such things that we Fae folk are at our most powerful. They fill us with awe at their wonder and beauty, and thereby strengthen us.

"Katherine," I murmured, turning the blade toward her in the classic stance, "You must confront this sometime. And while you may hate me for it, I am willing to risk that to make sure you do face the truth."

Her eyes narrowed, and her posture tensed with the same catlike wariness as before, ready to spring in an instant. Strange how such little changes in bearing completely altered her appearance in my eyes. I no longer saw Ariel, nor did I see the young woman I remembered in Lanthinel's photograph. Instead, I caught a glimpse of Awyrny who became the Huntress, Katherine's ancestor in blood. And perhaps I saw a figment of Billy within her as well, like a shadow hanging over her soul. I had made myself a potential enemy now, and somehow she knew the blade was more dangerous in my hands than it might have otherwise been, though I wondered if she understood why it was so.

Katherine laughed hollowly.

"Confront it?" she said bitterly, "Don't you think I have every night since this was done to me? You and everybody else seem to think it's so fucking easy to deal with this, as if I can just pretend I'm normal, that everything's alright. But every night I wake up and I want to scream because of what I am, what I've lost! I'm dead, Ashley! What could you possibly have to show me that I don't already know?"

A shudder went through her.

"Do you know what happened to me last night?" she whispered. It was meant to be an accusation, a growl, but the anger died even as the words came out, replaced by a crushing sense of hopelessness.

I nodded. "I know a little. Not everything."

Katherine sank into a crouch, trembling, her hands planted between her legs in a very feline posture. Her long, auburn curls fell around her face like a lioness' mane, and her teeth clenched together as if holding in a sob. Or a roar. Long, white fingers strayed to her feet, touching them as if afraid they might burn her, reassuring herself of...what? Her anger nearly died to ashes as she did so.

She has suffered a change, I realized, pity flooding over me.

"I would like to think of our relationship as a friendship," I said softly, the compassion returning to my voice against my will. I would have preferred to sound a touch more formal, fearing that Katherine's passion might die underneath the weight of her despair. But we Fae are ruled by our emotions, and the thought of losing her after only a few months tore at my heart. "You have a choice that no one can help you with and no one can aid you in making. You can either fall further down the spiral into darkness or you can fight against it."

"What for?" she growled, her voice a raspy whisper, "I'm already dead."

"To save your soul," I said as my eyes welled up in tears.

The bleak laughter I received was physically painful for me.

Luminous grey eyes looked up at me, rimmed in scarlet. "My soul? There's nothing left of it, Ashley. This has destroyed me. You think this is my blood flowing through my veins right now? It's not. It's Stephen's and that of the man I killed earlier. There's a name for what I am - mass murderer. What difference does it make anymore that this was forced upon me. It's part of me now, something I can't escape. Something I can't stop."

Her voice was small. "I don't want to stop..."

There was a pause. I hesitated.

Trails of crimson ran down Katherine's cheeks as she rose smoothly to her feet and approached me, drawing close enough that I could see the unnatural sheen of her skin despite the rosy warmth of the blood, the ever changing color of her eyes which seemed grey at a distance. Nata lifted in my hand, putting myself on guard, more from instinct than anything else. She stopped within inches of the sword's tip, the crows flying toward her heart along the gleaming length of the blade.

"If you want to save me," she whispered harshly, stepping forward until the blade pressed delicately into her breast, "Then kill me. Nothing else will stop it. I'm begging you, Ashley. I can't do it myself and no one else will help me. I know you can do it. You're faster and better than I am. Please. I don't even know who I am anymore."

I shivered despite myself. For a moment I considered fulfilling her request, heartbroken over the darkness I saw in her and hoping perhaps that my friend would be reborn under happier circumstances where we might try this again. But there was no time for that. My situation was already precarious, and I couldn't trust to the future as I always had before. In an instant, all such thoughts were erased by a surge of frustrated rage with her for asking me to do the unthinkable and execute her like this. It was the easy way out, but more importantly it might shatter what ever remained of her old, shining soul, and I refused to abandon any hope for her, no matter how slim her chances might be.

Before I knew what I was doing, the words were pouring out of me in a firm - almost accusing - voice leaden with grief, desperation and anger: "You are Lady Ariel Kildare of House Liam, Satyr, bard and knight, and you have been my beloved friend for too many damn centuries for me to let you give up on yourself so easily!"

Katherine blinked, so shocked she completely forgot to be angry.

I barely noticed. For a moment, I was frozen, realizing what I had just done. I certainly hadn't meant to tell her, the words came unbidden to my lips, and there seemed to be nothing else which could turn aside her self-loathing. Katherine rocked back a step, her expression startled and questioning, but before she could speak I launched forward with Nata, driving the young vampire backwards on the defensive.

"Fight me!" I demanded, "If you will do nothing else for yourself, then fight!"

Katherine hung back, narrowly avoiding Nata as it whistled through the air in front of her. But she wasn't trying to defend herself, merely back stepping while she tried to find her voice, and her refusal to fight infuriated me. I lunged, catching her off guard, and drove half the length of the blade through her abdomen. Katherine cried out in shock and anger at the wound, staggering away from me. Blood washed through the front of her sweater as I withdrew Nata and fell back into stance, readying to attack her again.

The wound would have been a crippling injury for a human, but I knew it was far too light to slow Katherine down. She hadn't seriously expected me to strike her, of course, but she knew better now. She probably also thought things had gotten out of hand, that our lesson was aborted by my outburst and this was a "real" fight. But I was fully in control now despite my roiling emotions, and I was determined to provoke her some more. Anything to shake her from this despair, to teach her the final lesson as Ariel taught me. And if Katherine needed an enemy to rage against, then I would be it.

"Fight me!" I insisted, tears running down my cheeks, and scowled, "Don't just stand there! If you want to die so badly then you will do it standing and fighting, not on your knees!"

I sliced the air with Nata and caught her across the cheek, leaving a crimson mark.

This seemed to get her attention.

Katherine hissed, such an inhuman sound, as instinct took over from confusion. In an instant her fingernails had lengthened to wicked claws, bones popping as her fingers shifted to become more like padded cat's paws, a common Gangrel trait but one which I had never seen her use before. She swiped at Nata as I slashed again, and sparks danced as claw met steel. I knew perfectly well what those claws were capable of. They could gouge steel and stone as easily as flesh, but I did not intend for them to get anywhere near me.

Battle was joined.

I thrust and slashed at her repeatedly with Nata, drawing blood but never seriously hurting her, and always dancing out of reach of her claws at the last second. She caught nothing but air as she tried to swat me down or pin me. Of course, the fencing blade gave me a substantial advantage over Katherine in terms of reach, which I hoped she would soon realize for herself, but I also knew she wasn't trying as hard as she might have. Quick I am, yes, but I knew her own speed well enough after months of practice and she was hardly using her potential, batting away my strikes as best she could but never pressing the attack herself.

So I redoubled my efforts, forcing her back with ever greater speed and aggression, mindful of the thin line which separated her anger from frenzy. Claws shredded the practice matting or ripped a chunk of wood out of the support beams when she missed with a clumsy slash, but she never came close to hitting me. I could feel Katherine's frustration mounting each unsuccessful attack, even as I taunted her every time by stepping deftly aside. Before long, a thin film of blood sweat stood out on her forehead and her eyes were virtually glowing with smoldering anger.

"You know how to fight me, Katherine," I told her, letting my own anger flood my soft voice, "So fight me already!"

Deliberately, I led the young vampire back into the wall of weapons, driving her toward it until she nearly crashed against the racks while dodging another lightning thrust. I pinned her there for almost a full minute, blocking her half-hearted attempts to roll away or escape, slapping her with the flat of the blade, waiting for her to get the point. Her claws weren't nearly long enough to reach me. Finally, with a guttural snarl, Katherine's bestial fingers fell upon Jian and pulled the scimitar down from the wall, drawing steel against me with a quavering ring.

Surprisingly, her hands returned to normal almost immediately.

We stared at each other for a long moment. Katherine was breathing heavily even though she didn't need to. I hadn't even broken a sweat.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I remembered being where Katherine was now, already exhausted and unwilling to draw upon reserves of strength I knew deep down I possessed, while Ariel stared at me over the length of her blade, her violet eyes shining out from underneath a spill of black hair.

"You are better than this," I heard Ariel say, her melodic voice pressed to a hard line, "You know you are. You could fight me to a standstill if you wished it. We are the dance, my friend, and nothing more. You have to be willing to lose it all to best me, and I will not let you out of here until you have..."

I blinked. Saw the fire in Katherine's eyes. And underneath it a helpless love.

You are still in there, I thought, momentarily startled.

"Get away from me," she growled.

"Make me," I whispered.

Katherine grimaced, blood tears on her cheeks. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You haven't even touched me yet," I taunted her, "Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

I lunged for her heart with Nata and she admirably parried it aside, rolling away to the right. She bounced upright even as I turned to pursue her, slashing violently through the air and forcing Katherine to respond at ever increasing speeds. I struck harder, quicker, demanding that she keep up with me. Steel rang as the blades clattered together, until the air was alive with the sound of battle. My ferocity surprised her. But for all of her vampire strength and reflexes, I was the superior here.

At first her efforts were clumsy, almost amateurish, as I drove her back. Worse than anything she'd shown me in the past several months for all her ups and downs. But gradually, Katherine began to fall into rhythm, getting the feel for the nearly continuous flurry of thrust-parry-swipe. It wasn't long before she began to properly anticipate my movements, reading every shift in stance and guarding against the feints I kept using to get in closer. The effort of keeping up forced her lips into a bestial snarl, her sharp fangs gleaming, and a low, crooning growl rose in her throat as she fought me off of her. But I was very much relieved to find she was actually trying to fight back now.

To anyone watching, we would have been a blur of motion.

With a numbing blow, I jarred Jian from Katherine's hands and dove in to take advantage of her momentary vulnerability. But she hurled herself aside, landing in a roll and springing to her feet near the wall of practice weapons, collecting a quarterstaff to replace the fallen weapon. I ducked the swing she threw my way, then rolled away as she attempted to sweep my legs out from under me. I was no longer crying. In fact, I wanted to laugh as she twirled the long staff and advanced upon me, gnashing her teeth as she pressed what she thought was the upper hand. All thoughts of suicide and hopelessness were gone from my student. She was mad as hell now.

Yet still I taunted her.

"What? Am I so much faster that you need a bigger weapon?" I chuckled.

Hissing, Katherine swung wide with the pole, nearly catching me in the jaw with the end, but I was already moving away as the staff came in.

"You're improving," I told her.

With a wordless roar, Katherine snapped the quarterstaff out in a thrust, which I easily batted aside. The strike left her hanging, however, and I swept in as she stumbled to recover, smacking her harmlessly against the stomach with the flat of Nata. Incensed, Katherine slashed the air with the staff as I spun away, snapping her weapon in two against a column. There was no need to hurt her anymore, I decided. The battle haze was taking hold of her, and I didn't want to risk pitching her into a frenzy now. As it was, the little cuts I'd already given her were healing. Even the wound in her belly was sealed by now.

I circled in as she tossed the broken weapon aside, but in a flash of motion she was at the weapon rack again, hefting a 14th century cutlass which once belonged to the Englishman, Sir William Walworth. Katherine was finally bringing the power of her blood into play, and I restrained a grin as she came at me with a furious succession of sword cuts, moving faster than the human eye could follow. At this speed she was reduced to using instinct to judge my movements and position, which was exactly as I hoped. But I have fought more Kindred than I care to remember, and despite her intensity control still belonged to me. The moment she left herself open, I sent her sprawling to the mat with a snap kick to her stomach.

The cutlass skittered off out of reach.

Katherine issued what might have been a curse, but her voice had fallen to such a husky growl that I couldn't understand what she said. I caught a flash of her grey eyes glaring up at me from the mat, and then she was tumbling toward the weapon racks again, her long auburn hair whipping behind her. I followed and blocked her with a swipe of Nata, forcing her away toward the far side of the dojo, back to the wooden practice weapons. This time it was a poleax, a weapon which she had only seen me use for instructing another student, which she spun about overhead before falling - much to my surprise - into the proper stance.

She really had been paying attention all this time.

By now she was drenched in blood sweat, her clothes tacky all over, and her white cheeks were crusted with drying tears. Her eyes smoldered as she watched my every movement, waiting for me to come at her. No thoughts registered in those eyes, but neither did I see the Beast. Only anticipation, readiness.

I flew at Katherine, trying to hit her again, to bring her down. She forced me away with a swing of the poleax but refused to let herself get unbalanced this time, spinning around and using her preternatural strength to maintain control over the weapon. I feinted to the left. She ignored it. I went left anyway, moving inside of her reach to thrust with Nata, but she reversed and sent the pole whizzing past my ear as I ducked and rolled safely away.

What followed was a rapid succession of attack, parry, dodge and counterattack, like ships exchanging cannon fire on the open sea. We moved almost too quickly to see, my speed and maneuverability against Katherine's inhuman strength and instinct. The longer reach of her weapon against the deftness of my own. Neither of us landed a blow. Neither of us said a word, though Katherine's steady, throaty growling followed her breathing. I still didn't press her to my fullest this time, allowing her some sense of control even if there was none. We moved too quickly to think about what we were doing.

This went on for an indeterminate length of time. After a few minutes I had managed to scratch her hand and chest, and Katherine once knocked Nata from my grasp, though I recovered it virtually the same instant. Little other progress was made. I began to pick up on her flaws - her overconfidence, her over-reliance on sheer strength, the gaps in her skill and training. I used these against her, though not to the degree I had earlier, making her aware of these failings and watching as she tried to compensate for them. A flush of pride came over me as I watched her realize her mistakes and learn to avoid them on the fly.

The duel ran on and on. Katherine went through several other weapons - a halberd, a katana, an axe, and finally a rapier - and while we could have gone on for hours, she relied too heavily on her blood arts and I didn't want to exhaust her into a hunger frenzy.

Finally, we broke apart.

Katherine was panting, the veins in her throat and forehead bulged with exertion and growing hunger, sweat beading up all over her body in thin scarlet globules. Yet I took pleasure in seeing her fall back into some semblance of stance, the rapier up and ready to continue.

I threw down Nata and laughed.

Grey eyes flashed to the fallen blade, then back up to me. Puzzled. Suspicious.

"What are you doing?" she growled.

"Do you still wish to die?" I asked calmly, folding my arms across my chest.

Katherine's eyes narrowed. The blade of the rapier dipped with indecision.

A few moments of silence.

With an exhausted laugh, Katherine sank down to her knees and dropped the rapier at her side - though she still kept one hand resting on the hilt, for which I was proud. She was too tired to be angry any longer. Too tired to do anything but fight down the thirst gnawing at her insides. Our little duel had gone on just a little too long.

"You tricked me," she whispered, bowing her head with another laugh.

"Yes," I replied, "But answer me, is death still what you want?"

Katherine shook her head slightly. Her voice was faint. "No."

I nodded and sat down on the mat, keeping a safe distance from her, allowing her a moment to regain her composure.

We sat there for a few minutes, and I watched in silence as Katherine began cleaning herself, licking the blood sweat off of her hands and arms, then wiping it from her brow to take in that as well. She then peeled off her sweater, revealing the thin tee shirt she wore underneath, with its huge bloodstain at the waist. She very nearly licked the blood from that as well but caught herself in the act, too tired to be ashamed of the impulse, and ran her hands back through her tousled hair to clear her head.

When she looked up again, she was smiling haggardly.

"I know you're hungry," I murmured, my tone matter-of-fact, "You should feed. I can give you something clean to wear, if you wish. I'm sure I have something that will fit you, simple though it may be."

Katherine nodded gratefully, her eyes cast down.

"You did very well," I assured her.

With that, I rose effortlessly to my feet and went to search.

"You called me a name," she rasped behind me, "Ariel..."

"Yes, I did," I sighed, "And I will try to explain when you've returned."

She was satisfied with this for now.

Under my breath, I added: "And hopefully Lanthinel will forgive me..."