The Craving

Chapter 6

Cruel Deception

He awakened, felt for her by his side, but discovered she was missing. It was mid afternoon and they had
been up all night. Surely she hadn't left him alone to hunt. Quickly, he dressed and came down stairs.
"Where is she?" Roxton demanded of Calista. He stepped off the final stair and walked briskly into the
living area. He watched as the comely woman stood next to the fireplace, dressed in her finest red gown,
staring at an old framed photograph of some long gone family member or, perhaps, even a much savored
victim.

"No 'good morning', Dearest?" Calista murmured lowly, distracted. Then, slightly louder: "I don't know
what you mean. Where is who?"

"You damn well know who I'm talking about." Roxton growled, unable to prevent the ire in his tone at the
sight of a visibly uninterested Calista. "Where is Marguerite?

"I saw her leave an hour ago. She was hungry but didn't want to wake you."

"And you just let her go?"

"She said you would understand." Calista still stared at the picture of a handsome, mature man. Her father.
He understood. Lord Roxton would eventually come to understand too.

"She's good but she doesn't know everything. Marguerite could get hurt." His frown turned into a sneer, "If
she is harmed in any way, Calista, I will put the blame entirely on you."

The woman sighed, averting her eyes to rest on the man who stood before her. "We all have to learn
sometime, my love. What was I supposed to do, throw myself at her feet and beg Marguerite to stay? She's
not a child."

"She wouldn't go out without me unless she felt she had to. *Did* she have to, Calista?" he asked,
suspiciously.

"The clingy sort, is she?" Calista raised an eyebrow, "I never would have thought that of any woman *you*
yearned for and adore."

Roxton's fingers had been inexplicably bunched together in fists by his sides, some undetermined emotion
getting the better of his senses. He glanced at the calm Calista then pressed his lips together. What she said
was true. In this life, or any other, Marguerite was self-sufficient, forced to rely only on herself during her
young life and well into her twenties, and that was an important part of his initial attraction to her. She was
unlike any woman he had ever met. Strong. Courageous. Independent. Yet, also beautiful and willing to
reach out, ever so hesitantly, for his tender embrace. Roxton knew Marguerite would eventually want to try
a hunt on her own, without his aid. She could be patient about such things for only so long. Yet, she seemed
happy with their teamwork and this new development caused his instincts to teeter on the edge of distrust.

'Something isn't as it should be.' Had the tables been turned Roxton knew Marguerite would be feeling the
same unease. They were closer than ever before. They had been lonely for so long, without ever really
realizing it, but in each other they finally found solace. There were no secrets between them. At least, no
secrets that mattered. Even if there were, they were from a life and reality that didn't exist to either
anymore. What mattered was what they had in the present. Each other. To the devil with old morals and
proper English ethics. They saw everything clearly now.

Then, after last night, when their love-making had reached new heights, when the passion and rapture was
enough to make them both openly vulnerable and cry out in overwhelming ecstasy ... How he loved
touching Marguerite and being touched by her. Her body possessed a great power that had nothing to do,
and perhaps everything to do, with how they currently lived. Roxton, closing his eyes in deep reflection, now
wondered how they had managed these last three years without intimate fulfillment in one another. Being
with her, just having her close, was a part of living for Roxton. He couldn't imagine subsisting anymore
without the feel of her body and his entwining. Roxton had pictures in his mind of them being together once
again, attempting to experience that ardor from last night, his skin touching hers and her lips firm against
his, his hands exploring ....

"You crave her, perhaps, a bit too much, Lord Roxton?" Calista suggested, staring, reading his mind.

Roxton's eyes opened. Somehow he had lost himself in memory. He had to be very careful it didn't happen
again around Calista. She could get into his head and cause such grief if it served her purpose. "Too
much?" he wondered out loud. Again, he could not verbally fight Calista's musings. How strange. Not long
ago Roxton had been willing to leave Marguerite to go on his hunting trip with the Zanga for a week or more
but now, the very thought of the woman being out of his sight for only a short time was nearly paralyzing.
Roxton simply did not feel right when Marguerite wasn't near and the mere touch of her hand on his arm
was enough to soothe his fevered heart whenever the other craving, that need for blood, was at its peak.

"Relax, my love. She'll be back in a few hours, I'm certain." Calista noticed the soft sheen of sweat on his
forehead and upper lip, "Meanwhile, is there something *I* can do for you whilst Marguerite is away?" She
walked slowly up to Roxton, a seductive gleam in her bright blue eyes, "I brought you here, after all, to
entertain me. I value you above all others ... Yet, we haven't had a moment alone together since my new
sister came to live with us."

Pensive, his eyes met hers, "I never made a secret of what would keep me here, Calista. We can live in
peace as long as Marguerite is with us. She is what keeps me here in the palace."

"And the alternative?"

"By myself. Out in the jungle." Roxton said, with no hesitation.

"To be killed or devoured by any number of uncivilized fiends?"

"Without Marguerite I wouldn't care."

Calista looked up at him with a nearly wicked glow coupled with heated desire, "Let me into your heart,
John Roxton. I can give you things your dearest Marguerite could never concoct in her wildest imaginings.
*I* will be an end to your loneliness ..." Slowly, Calista reached up with her hands, grasping Roxton
forcefully around his neck. She then placed her mouth on his, at first gently, then attempted to deepen the
kiss. However, after a few moments, she was acutely aware that Roxton was not kissing her back. Stunned,
Calista pulled away and looked into his empty eyes, "She really does have a hold on you, doesn't she?"

"I love her." Roxton stated simply.

"She's ruined you."

"She's saved me." Roxton paused and almost smiled at Calista's nearly mortal confusion. She would never
fully understand. "What did you think would happen when Marguerite came here?" he asked but didn't
expect an answer. Roxton then quietly walked to the front door, glancing briefly at his hat as it lay on a side
table. Odd but he had no urge to place it on his head. He hadn't worn it since his change. Then - without a
backward glance - he exited.

Calista closed her eyes tightly. How could she have known this was going to happen? Yes, he loved
Marguerite but Calista had loved her father and it had been so very easy for her to do away with him. If she
hadn't Father would have killed her. Marguerite would eventually try to kill Roxton and he her.

**But why hasn't it happened yet? It's been a week ...**

It wasn't going to happen, Calista suddenly realized. Thwarted.

Knowing all she did about her kind, Calista thought it wise to have the woman brought here and eventually
watch Roxton kill her. She had planned on being there, helping to mend his broken heart. She had seen it
happen so often in the past ... she counted on it. Yet Lord Roxton's fever, his blood lust, had mutated
beyond her fantasies. It wasn't just his need to kill and drink blood that overcame him when he had gone
without for too long -- it was also his need for the woman of his dreams. Marguerite had gotten into his
system, like an mania, and without her, as with the blood lust, he would go mad.

Roxton and Marguerite were a rare breed. Their love and devotion out weighed their instincts. As long as
Marguerite lived Roxton would forever be intoxicated with her.

"But you must do without, Dearest." Calista whispered, walking to the front window. She pulled the lace
curtain and peered out, watching the back of Roxton as he walk into the jungle, no doubt on a search for food
and Marguerite. "You won't find her in time." Calista murmured, watching him disappear into the greenery,
"Like any addiction she must be purged from your system. And the only way to do that is to eliminate the
disease ..."

Finzure was seeing to that now.

****

"Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!" she screamed, pounding her raw and bloodied hands against the lid of
the box she had been placed in, "You can't do this!" She could feel the fever over-coming her. She needed to
feed and quickly but, more than that, she needed her freedom. So many lives were at stake! "Roxton!
Where are you?"

Marguerite had been roused from sleep only a few hours after dawn. Calista whispered in her ear, using that
clever mental ability of hers. She urged Marguerite to come from she and Roxton's bedroom. She needed to
discuss something very important with her new sister. Exhausted and annoyed but responsive, Marguerite
slipped on her nightdress, dark slippers and a violet colored robe. Then, glancing briefly at her handsome
and generous bed partner, she reached over to touch his lips with her fingertips. Marguerite smiled and
quietly padded to the door. Silently, she let herself out.

She found Calista downstairs in the parlor. The woman's crimson clad back was to Marguerite. She was
sitting in a green-velvet covered chair. Some sort of needlework was in her hands. It suddenly came to
Marguerite that she had never actually seen Calista retire to her own bedroom. Did the woman ever sleep?

"You called?" Marguerite asked, not attempting to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Calista's voice was a low monotone. "I thought you would want to know that your friends from the treehouse
are searching for you."

"Of course they are. I would be surprised if they didn't ..."

"They have been made aware of your kidnapping and what happened to the Zanga hunting party, their
deaths, and of the fate of Lord Roxton."

Stricken, Marguerite was silent for a few moments, then: "Oh .." If Calista had been watching she would
have seen the very worried expression that crossed Marguerite's pale, aristocratic face. "But they don't
know where we are."

"They have their suspicions." Calista put down her needlework as Marguerite rounded the chair and stood
in front of her. "They, along with the Zanga, have retrieved what is left of the dead. They found John's rifle
and backpack ..."

"When? Last night?" At Calista's nod Marguerite clasped her hands together in fear and concern.
Challenger and the others were in dire danger. They couldn't come too close or ... "But *how*? John and the
others weren't do back until tomorrow. How could they have learned of the attack? And how could they get
here so soon?"

Marguerite's eyes widened at Calista's silence. A wave of realization came crashing down upon her when the
woman's own eyes locked with her own. "*What* have you done?" she asked, "What are you thinking?"

"You need to go home."

"I am home." Marguerite's jaw tightened, "I know you don't want me here but John does and I can't go
back to the treehouse. You know that."

"I don't mean the treehouse." Calista stood, "Home for our kind is dying ... *death*."

That was when Marguerite felt Finzure's strong arm close around her, holding her in place as she struggled.
"Are you mad?" Marguerite spat, "If you kill me Roxton will destroy you!"

"I could never murder someone Lord John Roxton cares so deeply about ..." A look of amusement came
over Calista's face, " ... but if you some how came into contact with your friends and *they* were forced to
kill you ... Well, what could dear John do except grieve your passing?"

"No!" Marguerite screamed and felt one of Finzure's large hands clamp over her mouth.

The humor left Calista's expression as she looked passed Marguerite up to the face of the man who served
her. "Take her and leave no trail they can follow. Come immediately back here when you're finished."

The following hours passed like some drug induced, horrible nightmare. She had been taken deep into the
jungle, half dragged and half carried by Finzure. He would not listen to her pleas. Marguerite attempted to
question his loyalty to Roxton, how his master would be furious if he knew what was being done, but
Finzure's first loyalty was to the woman who created him. Calista, despite his and Annay's respect for both
Marguerite and Roxton, called all of the shots.

More than once Marguerite endeavored to break free but she was not yet a seasoned creature of the hunt
and her powers, compared to Calista's and even this lowly servant, was meager.

Finally, Finzure brought her to a sparsely wooded area near a creek. Marguerite wasn't certain what it was
she was seeing. Annay was there, standing next to what looked like a human sized wooden box, a coffin of
sorts, and in her hands she held a long length of chain.

"We must hurry. They could be close." she told Finzure. Her expression was firm but clouded. She did not
look Marguerite in the eye.

"Annay, I trusted you." Marguerite roared, feeling a terrible betrayal. She had actually come to enjoy the
girl's company far more than Calista's. "Just let me go and ..."

The next thing Marguerite knew she was picked up by Finzure, thrown unceremoniously into the box, and
the lid was quickly shut. She could hear the chain being wrapped around the crate as she slammed her hands
over and over against the wood, screaming. Marguerite was panicked. Were they going to bury her alive?!
No, not that. It wouldn't make sense. Calista had said ...

Marguerite then felt herself being leaned against something. A thick tree perhaps. She was being contained
here for a reason.

"Your friends will be here soon, m'lady." Annay whispered into one of the cracks between wooden slats.
"We know you hunger ... Please forgive us. We do what we must."

And she was gone.

"No!!" Marguerite screamed once again. She understood completely now. She would either have to kill her
rescuers for there blood, because she wouldn't be able to control her blood lust once found and released, or
they would have to kill her. Either way, Calista would get what she wanted because she knew Marguerite
could never return to the palace, face John Roxton, with the knowledge of what she had done to her true
plateau family.

"Marguerite! Roxton!" came Veronica's voice.

Marguerite's eyes opened wide. "Oh no ..." she whispered.

"Are you hurt? Where are you?!" came Malone's concerned cry.

"Go away." Marguerite whispered. "Oh please just ..."

"What's this?" she heard from Challenger, very close.

Marguerite could feel her friends approaching. She could SEE their warmth and practically smell the fluid
running through their veins ...

Tears ran down her cheeks.

She needed to feed so badly ... "Oh please, please ... understand." she sobbed.

"Did you hear that?" Challenger questioned, "I think there's someone inside ...."