第一部分 / Part One

一副小小的肖像画, 就在巨大的橡木肖像墙中, 开始摆动了起来. 我倒吸一口凉气, 滑到了我的座椅边缘, 专心地看着一只手从画中往前推进. 格里芬一边抚摸着他的灰色小胡子, 一边观察着画像的反应. 他穿着灰色的斜纹软呢套装, 嘀咕着走近检查那幅移动的画像.

本, 也就是那位带我来这里的朋友, 拿起了一张木凳, 把它靠在格里芬面前的墙上, 格里芬站上凳子, 伸手去拿画像. 他小心翼翼地把它从钩子上取下来, 放在房间中央的大木桌上.

其他人都冲到桌子前, 但仍然保持沉默. 我犹豫了一下才缓缓加入他们, 眯着眼睛看着这幅画. 这个男人大概二十多岁或者三十出头, 长着一双活灵活现的蓝眼睛, 与他苍白的皮肤和乌黑的头发形成强烈对比. 他的脸颊很美, 轮廓分明.

我向本靠拢. "这是谁?" 我低声问到.

本微微地摇了摇头, 将一根手指举到唇边. 我转身回到了画前. 格里芬从胸前的口袋里掏出一个细长的刀片, 放在画框旁边的桌子上.

"最亲爱的老朋友," 他说道, "我知道你能听得见我. 我会把你释放出来. 我在寻求你的帮助与指导."

我的目光定格在画中的人身上.

"大家现在都出去." 格里芬命令道.

本抓住我的手, 把我拉到富丽堂皇的走廊里. 这条走廊和我住的公寓一样宽, 我们出来了十几个人都没能把它填满.

"那是什么鬼东西?" 我问道. "一幅画才不能自己移动呢."

本焦躁不安. 他比我高多了, 远远超过了六英尺. "对不起, 加布, 我应该早点告诉你的, 但我知道若是如此你便不会和我一起来, 而我需要你在."

"你在说什么?" 我的视线从本身上移开, 一位身材高大, 黑头发的女人加入了我们.

"你见过这样的怪事吗?" 她用滚滚的东欧口音说.

一个满脸雀斑的金发男人晃晃悠悠地走了过来. "艾丽卡, 亲爱的, 这是因为, 我们不该这样做." 他瞥了我一眼. "尤其是单纯的人类."

尤其是人类? 那是什么意思?

我怒视着本. 我已经察觉到他回避着我所提的问题. "本, 这到底是怎么回事, 画里的那个人是谁?"

艾丽卡的脸上浮现出一丝诡笑.

"你把一个厄兰带进了屋子?" 她向我走来, 眼睛亮了起来. "你真勇敢." 她伸出修剪完美的手指, 抚摸着我长长的黑发. 我浑身一颤, 往后一靠.

"够了." 本咆哮着, 走到我们中间.

这时, 格里芬出现了, 环顾四周, 皱起了眉头. "发生什么事了?"

本转过身来面对这个年长的男人. "我们正准备离开."

"本杰明给庄园带来了一个厄兰." 艾丽卡坏笑道.

格里芬整理了一下他的西装外套, 弹掉一粒微不足道的尘埃. "我完全清楚这一点," 他告诉她, 然后对本说. "前往齐瓦戈斯. 我们将在那里与你会面."

当我们穿过车道走向本的灰色吉普车时, 碎石在我黑色铆钉靴下嘎吱作响. 本保持沉默, 而当我们在路上加速行驶时, 我再也无法保持沉默了.

"到底怎么回事, 本? 那幅肖像是怎么搞的? 我知道有事情发生了, 我想知道到底是什么." 我问道.

"我很抱歉. 我知道我本该事先告诉你这一切." 他的手指蜷曲地抠住方向盘.

"本该告诉我什么, 本?"

"你必须明白, 我以前从未把这件事告诉过任何人."

"关于什么?"

"格里芬...嗯, 他是个德克沃德."

"一个什么?"

"一个德克沃德. 就是长老的意思."

"一名长老?"

"格里芬已经活了四百多年了."

我大笑起来. "你真以为我会相信这些鬼话吗?"

本向我闪过一个严肃的眼神. "这是真的. "

"是啊, 好吧, 随便吧."

"而我,"他接着说,"我已经活了112年了."

我又笑了起来."是啊, 没错. 那是不可能的. 我认识你的时间最长. 如果你没有变老, 我想我一定早就注意到了."

本把头转向我, 微笑着说."你只是以为你记得罢了."

"什么?"

"没什么. 这并不重要."

"那么, 让我把话说清楚. 你告诉我你已经112岁了, 但你看起来却只像27岁? 我还以为我们同岁呢."

他点了点头.

"你是吸血鬼还是什么?"

本笑了起来. "不, 我是一个菲加利. 我们是一个由永生者组成的秘密社团, 保护世界免遭邪恶侵害."

"这是你刚刚编出来的吗?"

"这不是一个玩笑, 加布."

我在脑海中寻找着一个合理的答案.

"好吧, 那么, 就当我现在相信你, 你之前为什么没有告诉过我?"

"我们不应该告诉厄兰, 我是指人类."

"那你为什么要说?你为什么把我带到那栋奇怪的房子去?"

"我在做我被告知的事."

"那又是什么意思?"

"嗯, 就在上周你在我家见到格里芬时, 他坚持要我今晚带你去庄园."

"为什么?"

"我也不知道为什么."

"你一定知道点什么吧?"

"我不知道, 加布, 我向你保证."

"本, 那边发生了什么事?画里的人是谁?"

"一个复活的人."

我的下巴都惊掉了. "一个...什么?"

"他是一位非常古老而强大的长老, 他被放在画像中休息. 和其他的人一样, 他已经活了几千年了, 但他不能随意回来, 必须由另一个长老来释放他. 我以前从未见过他."

我静默地坐着, 深感不安, 直到汽车突然一响, 停了下来.

"我们在哪里?" 我问道, 然后抬头看见霓虹蓝色的Zivagos标志, 想起了格里芬的指示.

"这是个私人俱乐部. 来吧." 本解开了他的安全带, 接着打开他的车门.

Zivagos原来是一个大型鸡尾酒休息室, 对面的墙壁被刷成红色和黑色. 黑色的大窗帘挂在黑色皮革的卡座前, 房间里挤满了人. 本拉着我的手, 带我穿过人群. 当我们走到远处的墙壁时, 我的眼睛眯了起来. 格里芬转向我们, 微笑着说. "你做到了."

当本,艾丽卡,金发男子和格里芬在他们之间低声交谈时, 我仔细研究了一下房间. 后来, 当一个非常有威严的男人走进房间时, 我连忙看了两眼. 天呐. 他从深邃的眼神到无暇, 苍白的皮肤都很英俊, 穿着一身量身定做的海军细条纹西装, 一丝不苟. 除了在绘画或杂志上, 我从未在现实生活中见过一个拥有如此引人注目的美丽特征的男人.

我的眼睛跟着他穿过人群, 看着他在房间里搜寻. 哦, 不好了. 我完全被吸引了, 我发现无论我怎么努力, 都无法移开目光. 他停了下来, 盯着我看, 他的眼神没露出任何异色. 不过突然间, 他的眼睛转向我的右侧, 但当格里芬开始和他说话时, 他的眼睛又回到了我的身上.

"你还好吗?" 本推了推我.

"和格里芬在一起的是谁?"

那男人的嘴角抽了抽. 他听到我说的话了吗?当他和格里芬向我们走来时, 我们无处可藏.

"你好," 那个陌生人说, 他的声音很响亮.

艾丽卡跳到了我面前. "嗨," 她说, 听起来气喘吁吁. "我是艾丽卡. 不用担心她, 她只是一个厄兰."

"是这样的吗?" 他看起来饶有趣味.

"内卡利, 我必须和你私下聊聊." 格里芬说.

这个美丽的男人——显然叫内卡利——走近了我. "会有时间的."

他的手指勾着把我的手举到他的嘴边, 他把嘴唇贴在我的皮肤上. 我发现自己的指尖轻轻地拂过他的手掌. "哦, 天呐. 你就是画里的那个男人."

"我是." 他微笑着说. "而且, 你, 我亲爱的皮克斯文, 根本不是厄兰."

"皮克斯文?" 格里芬抓狂了. "哦, 天哪, 我就怀疑是这样."

"什么?" 艾丽卡结结巴巴地说. "不, 但是...她不可能是."

我不知道他们在说什么, 但听起来不太妙.

"皮克斯文?" 本看起来很关切. "哦, 不, 格里芬, 这是否意味着..."

突然间, 房间里爆发出爆炸性的尖叫和叫喊声. 本走到了我的面前. 吓得我一把抓住了他的胳膊. 本低头瞥了我一眼. "无论发生什么事, 都要紧靠着我们中的一个."

"他在这儿?" 格里芬看了看内卡利.

"是的."

"我们该怎么做, 老朋友?"

"保护她是我们的职责."

"如何?"

"我必须把她带到梅里尔."

"梅里尔?" 格里芬的脸垮了下来. "不. 我们不能相信他, 内卡利."

"这就是你我的分歧所在, 老朋友." 内卡利瞥了我一眼, 然后对格里芬轻声说道. "尽可能地拖住他."

格里芬同意了. 旁边的其他人也都摆出了防御的姿势.

内卡利看了看本. "我必须把她从这里带走. 留下来, 帮助格里芬."

"没门. 我把她带到这里来, 所以保护她是我的职责."

"你会害死她的. 我是唯一可以保护她的人." 内卡利告诉他.

一个身穿黑色斗篷的高大身影穿过人群朝着格里芬走去.

"本." 我抓住了他的胳膊.

本和内卡利盯着那个身影. 我很害怕, 知道我需要离开这个疯狂的地方. 我放开本的手臂, 退到墙边, 在房间里四处寻找出口. 一旦我找到了一个, 我开始侧身爬行, 一步步向它靠近, 我的眼睛紧紧盯着那个披着斗篷的身影.

那个身影的一只手从斗篷下面举起了一把金刃匕首. 本转过身来看我在哪里, 他的脸上充满了恐惧. "加布, 快跑." 他大喊道.

我从侧门逃进了巷子里, 向后面的俱乐部短暂地瞥了一眼. 握着金色匕首的那只手, 将它刺入了格里芬的心脏. 我尖叫起来, 那个斗篷身影猛地转过身来, 用一双赤红刺眼的眼睛盯着我.

内卡利出现在我身边, 猛地关上了门, 挡住了我的视线. 他抓住我的手, 我们冲出巷子, 穿过停车场, 来到一辆黑色捷豹前.

几秒钟之内, 我们就进入了车内, 并以惊人的转速驶出了停车场.

"你没事吧?" 内卡利问道.

"没事, 发生了什么? 刚才那是什么东西?"

"扎巴特罗. 他是一名猎人, 一个恶魔."

"真的吗? 恶魔?"

"是的."

"那东西刚刚杀了格里芬吗?"

"是的."

"可是怎么会呢?格里芬不是不死之身吗?"

"有一些拥有黑暗力量的人有能力杀死永生者, 如果他们有机会的话."

"但为什么会杀死格里芬?哦, 天呐, 本. 我们必须回去找他."

"你就不用担心他了. 本会和其他人一起回到庄园. 在那些墙内, 他们是不会受到伤害的. 至于格里芬, 他早就知道这种风险."

"但他听到我的尖叫声, 看着我, 就好像他..." 我咽了咽口水. "他在这里做什么?"

"打猎."

"打猎, 为了什么?"

"一个皮克斯文."

"一个什么?"

"皮克斯文. 她们是诅咒他的女巫的一个古老血统的女性后裔. 他只在他最后一个皮克斯文死后, 并需要找到一个新的皮克斯文时, 他才会浮现出来. 如果他找到了, 他就会抓住她, 然后他们就消失."

"等等...是不是, 你刚才就是这么叫我的?"

"对."

当我沉入恐惧的海洋时, 我的心跳更快了. "我们要去哪里?"

他乌黑的眉毛汇聚在一起. "安全的地方."

"但他不会找到我吗?"

"最终, 是的."

"他是个猎人, 而你就是他要猎杀的对象." 内卡利耸了耸肩. "在找到你之前, 他不会停下来."

"但他想从我身上得到什么?"

内卡利没有回答.

"内卡利?"

"他要的是你的心."

"什么?" 我惊叫起来. "在他找到我之前, 我们就不能干点什么阻止他吗?"

他的笑容变的僵硬. "有一个办法, 但我需要一位老朋友的帮忙."

"这就是格里芬复活你的原因吗?"

"是的, 而且他及时这样做也是件好事. 格里芬不可能知道扎巴特罗已经在这里了."

"但如果格里芬是个长老, 他为什么需要你呢?"

"因为, 我比他老得多."

"那么, 这位老朋友, 就是你说的那个梅里尔吗?"

"是的, 他可以帮上忙."

"那梅里尔在哪儿?"

"他住在一个隐匿于山丘深处的秘密城堡里."

我把手放在门把手上, 准备打开车门逃离这疯狂. "我不认识你, 而你要把我带到深山老林, 那里没人会听到我的尖叫?" 我停顿了一下. "是的, 是的, 好像我会让这发生. 快靠边停车."

"别这么戏剧化. 你在我身边很安全."

"我就不能回家吗?我今天已经受够了这种疯狂."

"遗憾的是, 不行. 回到家里是不明智的选择. 你在那里不安全."

"但我和你在一起很安全, 一个完全陌生的人?"

"是的, 而 我的名字是内卡利."

"这太疯狂了——这一切都太疯狂了. 你知道的, 对吧." 我说.

"我知道."

当我们沿着蜿蜒的高速公路上飞驰时, 它是如此安静. 我把头靠在窗户上, 用我温暖的呼吸使它起雾. 我打了个哈欠. "加布里埃尔, 我是加布里埃尔."

内卡利的声音在我耳边徘徊. "加布里埃尔, 醒醒."

车子停了下来. 我们被茂密, 迷雾笼罩的森林所包围. 满月在黑色夜空的小夜曲中闪耀着明亮的光芒, 勾勒出一座古老城堡的巍峨边缘,塔楼和炮塔. 它坐落在山顶上, 保持着一种超自然的静谧.

"我们在哪里?" 我问道, 但内卡利已经下了车. 他走了几步, 转过身来, 挥手示意我过来. 我加入了他, 再次问道: "我们在哪里?"

"梅里尔家." 内卡利带头往山上走.

我的靴子在巨石铺成的小路上哐当作响. 风在路边密林中隐约可见的扭曲树木间呼啸, 带着木头腐烂和泥土泥泞的恶臭. 冷空气冲刷着我的皮肤, 拂去了我脸上爬上艰难山丘的热气.

我停下来, 喘了口气. 几米外, 一个高大的男人站在城堡入口处.

"内卡利, 好久不见了, 老朋友." 那人张开双臂.

考虑到他的外表, 我本以为他的声音会像老年一样嘶哑, 但他的声音有力而深沉. 梅里尔站得比内卡利还要高, 穿着破旧的棕色裤子和上衣. 他的脸看起来像是经历了一场风暴, 有着深深的纹路和一道贯穿脸颊的疤痕. 翡翠色的眼睛被浓密的棕色眉毛勾勒出, 而下巴上长着棕色的胡须.

"梅里尔." 内卡利与他热情相拥.

"好几百年了吧, 老朋友. 是什么风把你刮来了?" 然后他的眼睛转向我, 他的嘴弯成了一个弯弯的微笑. "我们这里有谁?" 内卡利还没来得及说什么, 梅里尔的眼睛就黑了. "一个皮克斯文?" 他的眼睛瞟向内卡利. "你是..."

"不是." 内伽利迅速地打断了他.

"这是唯一的办法."

"我可以保护她," 内卡利抗议道.

"我知道你能保护她, 但这对她来说是什么生活?总是在逃亡, 总是躲躲藏藏. 他不会停下来的, 你知道的."

"不."

"等等." 我打断了他的话. "难道没有办法打败他吗?"

内卡利狠狠地看了梅里尔一眼.

我很恼火, 说: "如果有办法, 我想知道. 毕竟他要猎杀的是我, 所以我应该有发言权."

"如果你不想在逃亡中度过你的余生, 那有一个办法," 梅里尔说. 内卡利摇了摇头, 但梅里尔继续说道. "在任何时候都只有一个皮克斯文活着. 如果一个皮克斯文在扎巴特罗抓到她之前就死了, 他就会被诅咒睡上一百年才能回来."

我的喉咙突然一哽. "要我死?"

"有一种方法可以让你死而活." 他停顿了一下. "你可以成为菲加利."

"你是说, 像本那样?这有可能吗?"

"是的, 但因为你是皮克斯文, 所以你必须由一个长老变成, 而找到一个愿意这样做的人是很困难的."

"你是什么意思?"

扎巴特罗渴望爱情, 渴望一颗皮克斯文的心. 为了打破诅咒, 她不能再有一颗自己的心让他带走."

"我不明白."

"长老必须用他们自己的心代替你的心. 他们必须把自己的心献给你."

"哦, 天呐. 这成功过吗?"

"是的, 几千年来, 已经有好几个皮克斯文的人成功变身了." 梅里尔捻着下巴的胡须.

我转向内卡利. "但你会怎样?"

他低头盯着我, 眼睛里充满了忧虑.

"即使他们把心交给另一个人, 长老也是不会死的. 这两个人会成为联系在一起的人, 永远地结成一对." 梅里尔说道.

"一定有别的办法." 内卡利坚持到.

"也许吧, 但你为什么把她带到这里来?"

内卡利没有回应.

一股诡异的寒意在我们周围呼啸而过. 远处的一声嚎叫让我的脊背一阵颤抖. "那...那是什么?"

梅里尔的目光扫视着我们周围的黑暗森林. "来, 我们必须让你进去," 他说着, 并示意我们到门口.

我不知道那片森林里潜伏着什么, 但我也不打算等着去发现. 我赶紧答应了, 内卡利紧随其后.

梅里尔引导我们穿过一条灯火通明的昏暗通道. 灰尘和肮脏的味道充斥着我的嘴. 空气是凝滞的, 散发着令人不快的潮湿腐烂的气味.

"我们肯定可以找到一种一劳永逸彻底杀死他的方法, 梅里尔?" 内卡利低声说道.

梅里尔在一扇巨大的钢门前停了下来, 这扇门在这条肮脏的石头隧道里似乎显得格格不入. 他从墙上掏出一小块石头, 露出一个小电子键盘, 并输入密码.

门滑开了, 我们进入了一间狭小,有蜡烛照明,却没有窗户的房间, 它由一尘不染的金属构成——我意识到这是一个步入式保险箱, 尽管除了靠在后墙上的一幅画外, 它完全是空的. 梅里尔慢悠悠地走过去, 内卡利紧随其后.

我移到内卡利身边站着. 这幅画上布满了灰尘, 描绘的是一个年长的男人, 他的眼睛阴暗而且充满威胁性. 他的头发是银灰色的, 与眼睛周围的岁月痕迹相匹配. 他脸上的狰狞让人感到不安. 他有一种熟悉的感觉, 但我想不出原因.

内卡利睁大眼睛转向梅里尔. "不, 我们不可以."

"是时候了. 我们需要他."

"不, 我们能想出办法, 梅里尔."

"如果你不想让她变身, 他就是答案."

我一直在看他们的辩论, 但有什么东西吸引了我的目光, 我回头瞥了一眼那幅画, 然后倒吸了一口气, 向后踉跄了几步. 哦, 我的天呐.

画的眼睛盯着我, 我可以感觉到恐惧在我体内油然而生. "爸爸?"

ENGLISH:

A small portrait, just one among a great oak wall of portraits, began to wiggle. I gasped, sliding to the edge of my seat, and watched intently as a hand impression pushed forward from within the painting. Griffin stroked his grey moustache as he watched the portrait's reaction. Dressed in a grey tweed suit, he muttered and walked closer to inspect the moving portrait.

Ben, my friend who'd brought me here, picked up a wooden stool and placed it against the wall in front of Griffin, who stepped onto the stool and reached for the portrait. Carefully he removed it from its hook and placed it on the large wooden table in the centre of the room.

The others rushed to the table yet remained silent. I hesitantly joined them, narrowing my eyes at the image. The man was in his late twenties or early thirties, with vivid blue eyes that contrasted against his pale skin and raven-black hair. Intense. His face was beautiful, and well-defined.

I leaned close to Ben. "Who's that?" I whispered.

Ben shook his head slightly and lifted one finger to his lips. I turned back to the painting. Griffin pulled a slim blade out of his breast pocket and placed it on the table beside the frame.

"Dearest old friend," he said, "I know you can hear me. I am going to release you. I seek your help and guidance."

My gaze was fixed on the man in the painting.

"Everyone out now," Griffin said.

Ben grabbed my hand and tugged me into the opulent hallway. It was as wide as the apartment I lived in, and the dozen or so other people who joined us hardly filled it.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded. "A painting cannot just move on its own!"

Ben fidgeted. He towered above me, well over six feet tall. "I'm sorry Gab, I should've told you before, but I knew you wouldn't have come with me, and I needed you to."

"What are you talking about?" My eyes shifted from Ben as a tall, dark-haired woman joined us.

"Did you ever see such a thing?" She said with a rolling Eastern European accent.

A blonde-haired man, with his face covered in freckles, wandered over. "Erika, darling, it's because we're not supposed to." He glanced at me. "Especially mere humans."

Especially humans? What's that supposed to mean?

I glowered at Ben. I'd noticed his avoidance of my questions. "Ben, what the hell is going on and who is that person in the painting?"

Erika's face split into a leering smile.

"You brought an erland into the house?" She stepped toward me, her eyes lit up. "How brave of you." She reached out her perfectly manicured fingers and stroked my long black hair. I shuddered, leaning backwards.

"That's enough," Ben growled and stepped between us.

At that moment, Griffin emerged and looked around, a frown creasing his forehead. "What is going on?"

Ben turned to face the older man. "We were just leaving."

"Benjamin brought an erland to the manor," Erika smirked.

Griffin straightened his suit jacket and flicked off a tiny speck of dust. "I am fully aware of this," he told her, then said to Ben. "Head to Zivagos. We will meet you there."

Gravel crunched under my black, studded boots, as we walked across the driveway to Ben's grey Jeep. Ben remained silent, and by the time we were speeding down the road, I couldn't remain silent any longer.

"What the hell, Ben? What was happening with that portrait? Something's going on, and I want to know what!" I demanded.

"I'm sorry. I know I should've told you about all this beforehand." His fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

"Told me what, Ben?"

"You have to understand, I haven't told anyone about this before."

"About what?"

"Griffin… well, he's a dracward."

"A what?"

"A dracward. An elder."

"An elder?"

"Griffin has lived for over four centuries."

I burst into laughter. "You seriously expect me to believe that?"

Ben flashed me a serious look. "It's true."

"Yeah, OK, whatever."

"As for me," he said, "I've lived for 112 years."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. That's impossible. I've known you for the longest time. I think I would've noticed if you hadn't aged."

Ben turned his head to me and smiled. "You only think you remember."

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"So, let me get this straight. You're telling me that you're 112 years old, but you look like you're 27? I thought we were the same age."

He nodded.

"Are you a vampire or something?"

Ben laughed. "No, I'm a figali. We're a secret society of immortals who protect the world from evil."

"Did you just make that up?"

"It's not a joke, Gab."

My mind searched for a rational answer.

"OK. So, say I believe you, why haven't you told me before?"

"We're not supposed to tell erlands, I mean humans."

"So why did you then? Why did you take me to that weird house?"

"I was doing as I was told."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, when you met Griffin last week at my house, he insisted that I take you to the manor tonight."

"Why?"

"I don't know why."

"You must know something?"

"I don't know, Gab, I promise."

"Ben, what happened back there? Who was the man in the painting?"

"A resurrection."

My mouth gaped open. "A…what?

"He is a very old and powerful dracward and he was placed in the portrait to rest. Like the rest of them, he's been alive for millenniums, but he can't come back at will, another dracward must release him. I've never met him."

I sat in silence, deeply troubled until the car screeched to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, then looked up at the neon-blue Zivagos sign and remembered Griffin's instruction.

"It's a private club. Come on." Ben unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

Zivagos turned out to be a large cocktail lounge with opposite walls painted red and black. Large black drapes hung in front of black-leather booths, and the room was crowded with people. Ben took my hand and led me through the crowd. As we approached the far wall, my eyes narrowed. Griffin turned to us and smiled. "You made it."

While Ben, Erika, the blonde-haired man, and Griffin spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves, I studied the room, then did a double-take as a very regal man entered the room. Wow. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to his flawless, pale skin, and dressed immaculately in a tailored navy pinstripe suit. I had never seen a man with such strikingly beautiful features other than in a painting or a magazine.

My eyes followed him through the crowd, watching him scouring the room. Oh no! I'd been caught, and I found I couldn't look away no matter how hard I tried. He stopped and stared at me, his eyes betraying no feeling. Suddenly they darted to my right, but they returned to mine when Griffin started talking to him.

"You okay?" Ben nudged me.

"Who's that with Griffin?"

The man's mouth twitched. Had he heard me? There was nowhere to hide as he and Griffin walked toward us.

"Hello," the stranger said, his voice stentorian.

Erika pushed in front of me. "Hi," she said, sounding breathless. "I'm Erika. Don't worry about her, she is just an erland."

"Is that so?" He looked amused.

"Necalli, I must speak with you privately," Griffin said.

The beautiful man – apparently named Necalli - stepped closer to me. "There will be time for that."

His fingers lifted my hand to his mouth and he pressed lips against my skin. I found myself gently brushing my fingertips against his palm. "Oh my God. You're the man from the painting!"

"I am." He smiled. "And, you, my dear pixowen, are no erland."

"Pixowen?" Griffin griped. "Oh my, I suspected so."

"What?" Erika stuttered. "No. But…she can't be."

I had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn't sound good.

"A Pixowen?" Ben looked concerned. "Oh no, Griffin, does that mean..."

Suddenly, the room erupted into explosive outbursts of screaming and yelling. Ben stepped in front of me. Scared, I grabbed his arm. Ben glanced down at me. "Whatever happens, stay close to one of us."

"He's here?" Griffin looked at Necalli.

"Yes."

"What do we do, old friend?"

"It is our job to protect her."

"How?"

"I must take her to Merir."

"Merir?" Griffin's face dropped. "No! We cannot trust him, Necalli."

"That is where you and I disagree, old friend." Necalli glanced at me, then said quietly to Griffin. "Hold him off for as long as you can."

Griffin agreed. The others took defensive stances beside him.

Necalli looked at Ben. "I must get her away from here. Stay and help Griffin."

"No way. I brought her here, so it's my job to protect her."

"You would get her killed. I am the only one who can." Necalli told him.

A tall, dark-cloaked figure moved through the crowd towards Griffin.

"Ben." I grabbed his arm.

Ben and Necalli stared at the figure. I was scared and knew I needed to get out of this mad house. Letting go of Ben's arm, I stepped back towards the wall, searching around the room for an exit. Once I'd located one, I began creeping sideways, inching myself closer to it, my eyes fixed on the cloaked figure.

One of the figure's hands lifted a gold-bladed dagger from beneath its cloak. Ben turned to see where I was, his face struck with terror. "Gab, run!" He yelled.

I fled through the side door into the alleyway, glancing behind briefly back into the club. The hand holding the gold dagger sank it into Griffin's heart. I screamed, and the cloaked figure whipped around to stare at me with piercing red eyes.

Necalli appeared beside me and slammed the door shut, blocking my view. He grabbed my hand and we hurtled out of the alleyway and across the car park to a black Jaguar.

Within seconds we were inside it, and with an almighty rev sped out of the carpark.

"Are you all right?" Necalli asked.

"No. What's going on? What was that thing back there?"

"Zabataro. He is a hunter, a demon."

"Seriously? A demon?"

"Yes."

"Did that thing just kill Griffin?"

"Yes."

"But how can that be? Isn't Griffin immortal?"

"There are those with dark powers that have the ability to kill an immortal, should they get the chance."

"But why would it kill Griffin? Oh my God, Ben! We have to go back for him."

"Do not worry yourself. Ben will have returned to the manor with the others. Inside those walls, they cannot be harmed. As for Griffin, he knew the risk."

"But it heard me scream, and looked at me, like it…" I gulped. "What's it doing here?"

"Hunting."

"Hunting, for what?"

"A pixowen."

"A what?"

"A pixowen. They are the female descendants of an ancient bloodline of the witch who cursed him. He only surfaces when his last pixowen dies and he needs to find a new one. If he finds one, he captures her, and they disappear."

"Wait … isn't, that's what you called me back there?"

"Yes."

My heartbeat sped up as I sank into an ocean of dread. "Where are we going?"

His dark eyebrows drew together. "Somewhere safe."

"But won't he find me?"

"Eventually, yes."

"He is a hunter, and you are what he is hunting." Necalli shrugged. "He will not stop until he finds you."

"But what does he want with me?"

Necalli didn't answer.

"Necalli?"

"He wants your heart."

"What?" I shrieked. "Can't we stop him, before he finds me?"

His smile drew into a hard line. "There is a way, but I need help from an old friend."

"Is that why Griffin resurrected you?"

"Yes, and it is just as well he did in time. Griffin could not have known that Zabataro was here already."

"But if Griffin is an elder, why did he need you?"

"Because I am much older than him."

"So, this old friend, is that this Merir you spoke of?"

"Yes. He can help."

"And where is Merir?"

"He lives in a secret castle hidden deep in the hills."

I placed my hand on the door handle, ready to open the door and escape this madness. "I don't know you, and you want to take me deep into the hills, where no one could possibly hear me scream?" I paused. "Yeah, right, like that's going to happen. Pull over."

"Don't be so dramatic. You are safe with me."

"Can't I just go home please? I've had enough of this craziness for today."

"Regretfully, no. It would not be wise to return home. You would not be safe there."

"But I'm safe with you, a complete stranger?"

"Yes, and my name is Necalli."

"This is crazy - all of this is crazy. You know that, right." I said.

"I am aware."

It was so quiet as we sped along the winding highway. I rested my head against the window, fogging it up with my warm breath. I let out a yawn, "Gabrielle, I'm Gabrielle."

Necalli's voice lingered in my ears. "Gabrielle, wake up."

The car rolled to a stop. We were surrounded by a thick, misty forest. The full moon shining brightly against the serenade of the black night sky outlined the imposing edges, towers and turrets of an elderly castle. Resting atop the mountain, it held a supernatural stillness.

"Where are we?" I asked, but Necalli was already out of the car. He walked a few paces, turned around, and waved for me to come. I joined him and asked again, "Where are we?"

"Merir's." Necalli led the way up the hill.

My boots clunked on the boulder-paved path. The wind howled between twisted trees that loomed in the dense forest alongside the path, carrying with it the sickly stink of wood rot and muggy earth. Cold air washed over my skin, whisking the heat of walking up the arduous hill from my face.

I paused to catch my breath. A few metres away a large man stood at the castle entrance.

"Necalli, it has been too long, old friend." The man threw his arms open.

I had expected his voice to croak of old age, given his appearance, but it was strong and deep. Merir stood even taller than Necalli, dressed in shabby brown pants and top. His face looked like he had weathered a storm, with deeply ingrained lines and a scar running the length of his cheek. Electric emerald eyes were framed by thick brown eyebrows, and his chin was stubbled with brown whiskers.

"Merir." Necalli welcomed his embrace.

"It has been centuries, old friend. What brings you to my doorstep?" Then his eyes shifted to me and his mouth curved into a crooked smile. "And who do we have here?" Before Necalli could say anything, Merir's eyes darkened. "A pixowen?" His eyes darted to Necalli. "Are you…"

"No!" Necalli swiftly cut him off.

"It is the only way."

"I can protect her," Necalli protested.

"I know you can protect her, but what life is that for her? Always on the run, always hiding. He won't stop, you know."

"NO!"

"Wait!" I interrupted. "Isn't there a way to defeat him?"

Necalli shot a piercing look at Merir.

Annoyed, I said, "If there is a way I want to know. It's me he's hunting, after all, so I should get a say."

"If you do not want to spend the rest of your life on the run, there is a way," Merir said. Necalli shook his head but Merir continued. "There is only ever one pixowen alive at any one time. If a pixowen dies before Zabataro captures her, he is cursed to sleep for a hundred years before he can return."

A lump formed in my throat. "Die?"

"There is a way for you to die and still live." He paused. "You can become figali."

"You mean, like Ben? Is that even possible?"

"Yes, but because you are a pixowen you must be turned by a dracward and it is tricky finding one willing to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"Zabataro desires the love, the heart of a pixowen. To break the curse, she can no longer have a heart of her own for him to take."

"I don't understand."

"A dracward must replace your heart with their own. They must give you their heart."

"Oh, my God. Has that ever worked?"

"Yes, there have been several pixowens turned successfully over the millenniums," Merir rubbed the whiskers on his chin.

I turned to Necalli. "But what would happen to you?"

He stared down at me, his eyes troubled.

"A dracward cannot die, even if they give their heart to another. They become linked, paired for eternity." Merir said.

"There must be another way." Necalli insisted.

"Perhaps, but then why did you bring her here?"

Necalli didn't respond.

An eerie chill whistled around us. A howl in the distance sent a shiver down my spine. "What…What was that?"

Merir's eyes scanned the dark forest that surrounded us. "Come, we must get you inside," he said and gestured us to the door.

I had no idea what lurked in that forest, but I wasn't going to wait around and find out. I quickly obliged, with Necalli following closely behind.

Merir guided us through a dim lamp-lit passage. Dust and a dirty taste filled my mouth. The air was stagnant, with an unpleasant odour of damp rot.

"Surely we can find a way to kill him once and for all, Merir?" Necalli said in a hushed tone.

Merir halted at a large steel door that seemed out of place in this dingy stone tunnel. He pulled a small piece of stone from the wall, revealing a small electronic key-pad, and entered the code.

The door slid open and we entered a small, candle-lit, windowless room, constructed of spotless metal – a walk-in safe, I realised, though it was completely empty apart from one painting leaning against the back wall. Merir ambled over to it, with Necalli following.

I moved to stand beside Necalli. The painting was covered in dust and depicted an older man with dark, menacing eyes. His hair was silvery grey, matching the age lines around his eyes. The grimace across his face was unnerving. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't think why.

Necalli turned with wide eyes to Merir. "No, we cannot."

"It is time. We need him."

"No, we can figure it out, Merir."

"If you do not want to turn her, he is the answer."

I'd been watching their debate, but something caught my eye and I glanced back at the painting, then gasped, falling backwards. Oh my God.

The painted eyes bored into me and I could feel terror building inside me. "Dad?"