To pass the time, she read him books, or they spoke of the past, or he offered her suggestions while she altered the house to suit her present condition better, such as reinforcing and covering all the windows.

Her neighbors accepted that Seamus' death had been the last straw to drive her into darkness, and for the most part they left her alone, although Quentin always cared for the pony. Sometimes they left her buckets of milk or meat pies on the front step, which she could not consume. Rose wished she could feel gratitude toward them for their kindness, but her emotions were slow in returning.

She fought to go as long as possible between feedings, sometimes starving herself to the edge of her strength, but the hunger always won in the end, and she would forget her shame and regret.

At least twice a month, she slipped out and drove far from the village. No one even knew she had left the house. She never got over the new fear of being out in the open. And the shame always returned as she looked down into a dead face and torn throat, but she could not stop herself the next time she grew hungry.

Then, in the spring of 1826, Miriam knocked on the door one evening. She had not tried to visit in many months.

"Rose," she called. "A letter came for you today, from New York. Can you open the door for me, and I'll just slip it in?"

Rose waited, tense, inside the house. A letter? From New York?

But she could not bring herself to unbar the door, as she was hungry and feared being so near to Miriam.

"I'll just leave it her on the doorstep," Miriam called. "You can find it later."

At these words, a rush of gratitude did pass through Rose, surprising her. Perhaps she was healing to a point?

She waited until Miriam's footsteps sounded well down the path. Then she unbarred the door and saw a white envelope on the step. It was addressed to her. She grabbed it, taking it inside and barring the door again.

The return address was in Manhattan but did not contain the name of the sender. Her hands shook as she unsealed the flap. Inside, she found a one-page letter and two hundred pounds in paper notes.

Her hands still trembled. After what he'd done to her, done to Seamus, how dare he write such a note, feigning protection… and to send money!

"Do you believe him?" Seamus said in her ear.

She jumped, not aware he had materialized right behind her, reading the letter over the shoulder.

But his words jolted her mind off Edward's act of writing and onto the content of the letter.

So far, with the exception of myself and two other vampires, Julian is beheading anyone he finds.

Vampires.

There. He'd written it down.

She had never allowed herself to speak the word nor write it, but now that he had, it seemed real. She was a vampire.

She was part of a world she knew nothing about.

There are others like you and I, existing all across Europe.

And one of them had gone mad and was killing his own kind.

"We must do as he says," Seamus insisted. "Leave tonight. Too many people have died or disappeared because of you! Even if we don't receive outside news anymore, the villages must have set up a militia. The stories must be spreading."

His reaction surprised her, that he should be so quick to do anything Edward suggested.

"You think we should leave our home?" she asked. "My father's home? And his father's? No, Seamus."

"What if he's right?" Seamus shouted, his transparent hand pointing at the letter. "What if this Julian cuts off your head?" He sounded desperate.

He did not want to be alone.

"I do not think we can stay here anyway," he rushed on. "Sooner or later, someone is going to see you leaving one night. I believe people are already wondering what you eat… locked away in here. You cannot stay forever."

"Go to America?" she asked. "A place we've never even seen?"

"He said you'll be safe there."

The weight of the arrival of Edward's letter suddenly hit her. She had never been farther from home than Inverness or Elgin. The thought of leaving the enclosed safety of the house brought fear up into her throat.

"Seamus… I don't even know the way to Aberdeen. I don't know how to book passage on a ship to Philadelphia."

Rose, who had always considered herself quite brave, realized she possessed a deep fear of unknown places, of not knowing exactly where to go or what to do when she got there.

"I'll help you," he said. "I know the way to Aberdeen. Father took me twice when I was a boy."

Arguments and hesitation and fear ensued, but in the end, Seamus won. Rose packed her clothes and all the money in the house, and they slipped away in the night. Aberdeen was a crushing and crowded place, and once there, Seamus could not materialize in public to communicate with her. Between trips with his father, and later in his horse trading, he had done a good deal more traveling than she had, and she wanted his advice, but she managed to book herself passage on a ship bound for America, and she even arranged for a windowless cabin with a stout door.

The thought of an enclosed space brought some comfort.

Half of her was numb and the other half was screaming that this journey was wrong.

How could she leave Loam Village? How could she leave her home?

But she never saw Scotland again. The sea journey was a nightmare. She starved herself inside her cabin as the shipped rocked on the high waves. One night, she grew so desperate from hunger that she managed to draw off a sailor alone, feed, and push his body over the side. Occasionally, men fell overboard at sea.

But she and Seamus arrived in Philadelphia to a busy crowded world, an alien world. How had Edward done this? She wondered over and over why he had gone to so much trouble to warn her of the danger Julian posed. She wondered why he had not asked her to come to him in New York… and yet she had no desire to see him.

He had murdered Seamus and destroyed her life.

Still, after securing herself in a hotel, she wrote to him:

She could not bring herself to write more, but she did not wish to leave him wondering what had become of her. Why? Perhaps because besides Seamus, she had no one else, and some part of her did not wish to forever sever the connection with Edward. She included her current address. Three weeks later, a letter arrived.