A TANGO OF WORDS IN THE MAUSOLIUM - PART 2

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"I can promise nothing, Miss. Rose, I'm responsible for the lives under my care at this estate, and if you're a threat to those around me, I will have to destroy you." Christopher said with finality.

Rose tsked at The Lord's response, "Tsk, then we are at an impasse, aren't we? I don't trust you, and you have no faith in me."

Rose was tranquil when she spoke to Lord Thorn. She kept pace with him intellectually like no other woman had before. Her wit was sharp, and Rose didn't give away much in her body language, as Christopher observed from the other side of the door.

"I guess we are, Scarlette Rose, but I'm not too fond of vague responses. This is your last chance. Answer me promptly, or I will have no choice but to kill you."

"Although I have to say, I'm enjoying our exchange of words and prefer not to eliminate you. But make no mistake, Miss. Rose, I will take no chances for those I'm sworn to defend." Christopher was tired of playing games and prepared to fight.

"Then how about an exchange? I will tell you what I am if you open the door," said Rose.

Lord Thorn thought about the proposition before him and determined he would have to open the door no matter the outcome. "Step back from the bars, and I will open up the mausoleum." He had the key in his hand.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Milord. Remember Pandora's box?" Jackson said to Christopher.

He walked toward the door. Jackson saw a crooked grin cross Christopher's face, and he turned the key in the lock. It snapped open. Rose flung herself at the door so violently that Christopher fell back onto the ground. She had found her way out and risked taking a chance to escape the two men endangering her life.

"Jackson, get her!" Shouted Christopher.

Jackson moved like the wind and thwarted Rose from running any further. Lord Thorn stood behind her. Pulling his Scottish Claymore from behind, he held it to the back of Rose's neck. "Last time I ask before your head leaves your shoulders, WHAT ARE YOU?" He was unequivocal and concise with his words.

Rose laughed and didn't answer Christopher's question. She had been in more threatening situations than this, and her battle skills were better than most hardened combat soldiers. "Light armor doesn't shield your lower body, foolish man."

She was focused on the situation and took advantage of the current opportunity. Rose drew the dagger in her left hand, ducked under the sword, and turned to her right, driving the blade deep into the right side of Christopher's thigh, twisting it hard.

"Fuck!" Christopher cursed at Rose. He grimaced and grabbed his wounded leg, dropping the Claymore.

Jackson stood frozen. He was torn between running after Rose or helping Christopher.

"Don't just stand there! Go after her!" Roared Christopher.

She ran as fast as she could into the woods. Rose needed to learn what direction she was heading and find a crowd to vanish into; Rose knew she must find a city. As she continued running, Rose heard a whooshing sound and looked up to see an angel with silver wings. The young woman grinned wide at him, and Christopher saw the elongated fangs. "Vampire," He muttered as he landed in front of her, ready to fight with his sword in hand.

Rose saw the angel was Christopher Thorn. He was the angel who had awoken her. "You're the celestial being that roused me? If it weren't for you, I'd still be slumbering. And you wouldn't be bleeding now, would you?" Rose tilted her head upward to get a good whiff of the blood. She ran her tongue over her fangs. They were aching, and Rose could smell the iron and salt from the wound on Christopher's thigh. It made her parched throat burn. Rose's thirst was now raging out of control.

From the corner of her eye, Rose saw Jackson suddenly materialize out of nowhere, his footsteps getting closer. The two men circled her like wolves about to attack their prey. She turned her body so that they were each in peripheral view.

Christopher closed in on her. Rose kicked and punched him. He sidestepped her fist and ran the Claymore into her side. Rose had a stunned look on her face as she lost her stance, sliding away from the sword. It took a moment, but she recovered promptly. Rose turned and dashed from the two men, disappearing into the darkness of the dense woods.

"Go back to the estate. I don't want it left unguarded with that demon on the loose. No one is safe. You're the only one I can trust right now." Commanded Christopher.

"Yes, Milord!" Jackson vanished from sight in an instant.

Christopher's wings extended and carried him upward into the frosty night sky. He tried to locate Rose. She had managed to elude him. The Lord was determined to find her before she took an innocent life.

~~~

Rose ran through the forest and out into a clearing; just beyond was a large city. She was becoming more vulnerable by the minute. The pain from the wound was spreading through her entire body. She needed to rest and feed her blood thirst before she could continue to fight.

She rushed through the streets into a narrow passageway. The chase had worn Rose down. She gasped for air as her body trembled. Rose had lost all her strength and direly needed blood. Her stomach was burning like fire. When Rose thought she was alone and safe from prying eyes, she slumped down the wall to the ground and clenched her side.

Rose closed her eyes and took long deep breaths, trying to settle herself. She coughed, and Rose noticed blood on her hands. The sword had run deep into her abdomen; if it was a sacred or holy relic like most angels carried, her chances of quick healing were not good.

She needed to feed if she had any chance of making it through this. Rose sighed, muttering incoherently, "Men, they always think they're so intelligent." she closed her eyes, and darkness folded around her like a tunnel, and she lost consciousness.

Dreams of how she came to be here filled her mind. Rose had become wary of humans and their predisposition to war in her last days. She chose to take an extended break from the world and wait for it to come to its senses. Unfortunately, women were dominated by men in her time. Rose was waiting to reemerge in a world where women were equal to men. Little did she know that time had yet to arrive.

More memories from the past flowed through her dream-like state. Rose fought for Edward IV, the first Yorkist king. Her fellow knights praised her. She was an extraordinary spy and always came up with the details needed for battle. She had no shame about using her womanly wiles to get the intelligence crucial to win each conflict.

At the war's end, Rose tried to calm her soul from all the horrors of combat. She traveled to Italy for a while and learned to paint from the masters Leonardo and Michelangelo. Rose even discovered music and poetry from other old-world masters during her travels.

After a time, she missed her home in England and returned. That's when a former lieutenant of the cadet branches from the House of Plantagenet Lancaster hunted her down, ran her through with a sword, and tossed her body from the ramparts. Labeling her a betrayer to the Crown. Rose feigned her death to hide from the world of men. She was sick of fighting.

Before the memory faded, Rose saw herself driving a dagger into the chest of a dark-haired man. It was Killian Walker. She could see his face as he gave her a nasty grin while she twisted the blade into his heart.

He was not human. It was the face of a Lancaster cadet she had spied on during the War of the Roses. Killian was the one who threw her from the fortress wall. "That stupid bastard. He could never stand that they lost the war," Rose mumbled in her sleep.

London's winter cold became unbearable, causing Rose to open her eyes; freezing rain drizzled down on her. The snow that had fallen earlier turned to ice, and the temperature dropped quickly. This was no night to be stuck on the streets.

She observed a man enter the alley with a young woman. Scarlette knew all too well what was going on as she watched the tubby man give the young woman money, and the girl sank to her knees and unzipped his pants... the oldest profession in the world, prostitution. "Perfect timing," Rose mumbled to herself.

~~~