Even so, the more stubborn streak inside her would not let go of some of her musings. Why would so many stories be written about time travel, forward and backward, dimensional travel and all those other particular subjects if no one in their hearts truly believed it at all possible?

Shaking her head, trying to dislodge the utterly illogical argument brewing inside her, Clare turned back to the text.

Flipping through the pages, she smiled as she found that apparently vampires also healed at an astonishing rate. The author had then gone into a fairly graphic explanation, steeped in scientific terms Clare couldn't recognize very easily, but from her general knowledge she gathered it was from a fundamental difference in vampires' differences in their genetic makeup.

Clare frowned then. It had only been since the mid-1990s that genetics had really taken off. The mention of genetic makeup had her heart sinking.

She hadn't even realized just how excited she had become about the text until reality hit her in the face with proof this wasn't some ancient vampiric encyclopedia after all.

Just when Clare felt depressed over having to write the book off as some overblown and exceedingly well-funded science-fiction novel, she found her eyes being caught by the next paragraph.

The author wrote how vampires went into "heat" only roughly once every thousand moon cycles or so. The author explained how it was only during this time they were fertile and able to reproduce.

More astonishing was the author's take on how only a few women across the entire galaxy were "compatible", fertility-wise, with any given vampire. It claimed that while technically a vampire could have s.e.x with any woman of any race or species-Clare felt her eyes widen with shock at the hint of other humanoid species existing-that only a tiny number of women could bear a vampire's child.

For millennia, vampires have known that their Soul's Circle could only be completed with that one special woman. And yet This Author hesitates to print their hypothesis simply because it has always been believed to be so.

The most commonly referred to factor when finding that Special One is the fact that the vampire cannot penetrate his mate's mind. I am not the first Author to comment on this interesting twist or quirk of fate, yet there are a few men and women I have met throughout my centuries of existence whose minds, for a variety of reasons, I have been unable to penetrate.

More commonly held is the belief that only a true partner, the woman whose Soul can complete the vampire's own half-circle, can bear children. Yet I, myself, have sired children from two women. And so I have come to the conclusion that while one can only have their Soul's Circle merged once, for obvious reasons, when in heat, a few, small, scattered number of women (or men) can prove to be fertile for any given vampire.

When the male comes into his vampire rutting heat, he could very likely spend the moon cycle doing nothing but moving from one woman to the next. Sooner or later, as I, myself, have found, a woman would be receptive to the man's fertile seed. If they are compatible, either genetically or due to some other physiological bearing I do not know or understand, a child can be conceived in that small period of time.

Understandably, due to the shortness of time any given vampire is in heat, and their disinclination to experiment and test the processes of what is occurring to them, this is merely my own, personal, working hypothesis. The fact I have sired children from two different women proves to some extent my theory, but there could be other factors involved I am unaware of.

Clare felt her eyes almost pop out of their sockets with her shock. She had never heard anything like what this book spoke of, yet it resonated with something deep, deep inside herself.

Sure, she had read plenty of cheesy vampire novels in her time, and even some not-so-cheesy stuff. Yet never, ever had she come across a book which seemed to truly claim the existence of such beings. Even more astonishingly, the author wrote in such a familiar manner, as if he knew such creatures existed and the fact was common knowledge.

Not to mention the author writing of how he had sired vampire children, thus meaning he must be one himself. Clare looked blankly at the shelf of books in front of her, desperately struggling for some sanity.

This was no simple tome explaining how the species came to be, or a gathering of proofs such a breed existed. This tome seemed to be far more an explanation of the history of the vampires, a textbook almost, a reference for people-or vampires, her mind added-to refer to.

Clare leaned back against the bookshelf and stared out into s.p.a.ce. Somewhere deep inside her, the words written on the old page resonated with her, ringing true. The words, almost the meaning of the sentences strung together, echoed over and over inside her, and struck a chord deep within her soul.

Much like most women, Clare had read her fair share of vampire romance, had sighed and dreamed and drooled over handsome heroes, either tortured by life and longevity or searching for their "one true love". Yet something about this tome struck her on a different level within her soul than any other literature she had come across.

A part of her normally exceedingly rational mind genuinely seemed to believe that this tome was truthful. Yet how could that be? To her vast knowledge, there wasn't a planet named Owa.n.u.s in the galaxy. And vampires certainly did not exist in this reality.

Just as Clare bit her lip, desperately trying to decide what to do with the ma.s.sive tome, her watch beeped its alarm at her. Glancing down, she saw it was five minutes until closing time, and she had to start clearing the tables of the last remaining students.

Standing up, clasping the tome protectively to her chest, she left the sanctuary of the bookshelves and walked slowly into the main studying area.

Even though the hour was fairly late and she had given the fifteen-minute warning, there still remained a half-dozen or so students, diligently studying. Clare smiled to herself. Only in the week before exams would such a thing be happening. On a more average evening the library would have been quiet from five in the evening, and practically dead from six.

"Okay, everyone," she called out in her best "I-mean-business" voice, "the library is now closing. If you wish to borrow books, please come over and check them out now. Otherwise, please pack up and head on out."

Clare walked behind the checkout desk and placed the vampire tome near her half-eaten chocolate bar in a little cubbyhole beneath the bench. There was the usual flurry of activity, stressed students rushing up to her, panic in their eyes, asking for texts of one form or another, asking what time the library would be opened tomorrow morning, and please miss, couldn't they just borrow so-and-so's last year exam paper for the night?

Clare handled all the queries and checkouts with aplomb, well used to every situation. Finally, she followed the last student out and locked the door behind him. She slowly walked around the library, turning off the main lights, checking the windows and emergency exits were all locked and everything stood in its rightful place.

After activating the security alarm and double-checking the computers had been turned off, she lit the night lamps for the security guards. One last check in the now half darkness and Clare was satisfied everything was as it should be for the early shift librarians tomorrow morning.

Clare entered the small librarians' office area, packed up her bag and logged herself out of her own computer. Turning off all but a few of the office lights, she cast her eyes over the library, mentally running through her checklist. As her eyes glanced across the main desk, the vampire tome peeked into her sight.

She struggled internally for a moment then, with a sigh, gave up and walked over to the desk and picked up the heavy book.

Biting down on her lip, she fought with herself internally for a full minute. There was no record whatsoever of the book either in the catalogues or on the index cards since it had no markings on it that she could find. She would obviously have to bring the tome back to work tomorrow, and talk to the head librarian about the odd book, but there was nothing in the rules prohibiting her taking the book home for the night to pore over and read at her leisure.

Besides, she chided herself, it's not as if you're going to steal it or anything. You merely want to read it tonight and then return it tomorrow.

Cursing herself for being stupid, Clare held the tome closer to her chest and headed toward the ornate double doors of University Library.

Well used to the locking-the-door juggling routine, less than a few minutes later she was walking across the campus under the bright lights and heading toward the familiar shortcut to her small apartment through the parklands.

Even in the modern day and age, Clare enjoyed the brief walk home. There were enough solitary runners, joggers with dogs, and lampposts to light the short walk to her place to make the ten minutes an enjoyable exercise.

As she felt the gravel crunch underneath her feet, she smiled to herself as she saw a young couple entwined around each other, barely pausing for breath as they apparently tried to eat each other's face off. Shaking her head, Clare remembered fondly her own antics during her university years, and easily shook off the pang at not having her own masculine hot-water bottle waiting for her at home in her large bed.

Having been through a number of tumultuous relationships in her "wilder" years, Clare had decided to work on her career before finding that elusive connection she desired so strongly.

Looking up into the dark sky, seeing the stars peep out through the clouds, Clare wondered if she should once again try to find that "special someone". She wrinkled her nose as she thought about the tome and what it said about vampires and their Soul's Circle.

It sounded strangely similar to a few philosophies Clare had studied herself at the university, romantically believing the male and female soul had actually been split in half, or divided divinely, and so a perfect fit could remain with that special somebody. After believing a number of times to have found that "perfect fit" only to discover the man was in fact a toad, Clare had dispensed outwardly with her romantic notions.

But honestly? What woman could truly say she had given up every and all hope for that perfect man to come across her path?

As she walked along the park path on autopilot, she remembered the ancient philosophers had declared the soul itself was a circle. The G.o.ds had cut the circle in half, and every man and woman had been given half a soul, so when couples married, they fused their soul together.

Clare felt her spirit wilt a little. Had some half-mad woman sat down and written a huge thesis on vampires based on this theory? Invented the whole thing?

Clare sighed. How stupid could she be? Very nearly thirty and still trying vainly to believe in perfect matches and souls being able to be completed?

She cursed herself silently under her breath. Surely she had given up all her romantic, nonsensical illusions back in her young adulthood? She furrowed her brow, annoyed, because obviously she hadn't.

Clare chewed her lip. Slinging her purse strap across her chest, she freed her hands so she could open the tome. As she came across another park bench, she sat down for a moment and flipped through to the t.i.tle page again.

Maybe she would recognize the author's name? Why hadn't she thought of that earlier?

Wanting to put the moment of truth off for just a few seconds more, she caressed the ornate "O" idly, enjoying the feeling of heated warmth the book gave her deep inside. She smiled as she thought she felt sparks, or a tingling sensation, as she ran her index finger over and over the elaborately carved "O".

She shook her head, laughed at herself and her overactive imagination as she flipped through the pages. She groaned to discover that there was no author mentioned, neither on the t.i.tle sheet nor the cover page. Feeling frazzled and not really understanding why, Clare glanced through the first few pages in vain. Finally flipping to the end of the book, she looked to see if the author had signed off at the end.

Nope.

Nothing.

Slamming the book shut, Clare looked up in an odd mixture of resentment and annoyance, and gasped. Her hands rested without thought back on the O, yet her mind whirled madly. Clare felt a strange sensation, unlike anything she had ever previously felt. She felt her hands tingle with warmth, but her feet felt cold. She could feel the breeze pick up, but it brought the oddest scent. It smelled of gra.s.s and flowers, but also a tangy, almost citrusy scent she could not put her finger on.

She no longer seemed to be sitting in the same park she had been in mere minutes ago. She wondered if she had fallen from the bench and hit her head, or maybe her eyes were just playing tricks, as she hadn't eaten dinner yet. Her stomach growled, but Clare wasn't paying attention.

She could feel her eyes widening with all she took in. The sky was a dusky, dark purple shade she had never seen before. The moon, she could swear, shone with a blue tinge, a pale, powdery, luminescent sheen. There appeared to be a smaller, greenish moon nearby, glowing just as brightly as a beacon.

Instead of the scattered stars she had been admiring less than five minutes ago, now there were hundreds upon thousands of them, littered throughout the sky. Clare stood up from the bench slowly.

She felt rocked, as if someone had pulled a rug from beneath her feet. Needing to clutch on to what she knew had to be real, she gripped one hand onto the shoulder strap of her purse, the other arm clutching the tome to her chest.

Her mouth still agape, her mind not really able to process all it saw, Clare slowly turned around, her eyes scanning the area. She still thought she was in a park of sorts, yet there were small hills of gra.s.s that did not seem to be green.

Lush vegetation grew in contained areas, enormous leafy green plants that looked gorgeous, but nevertheless managed to scare the s.h.i.t out of Clare, for they were most certainly alien plants, unlike anything she had ever previously known.

Small circular pathways cleared a designated walking s.p.a.ce, yet the entire area to her view seemed deserted.

She was either having the hallucination of a lifetime and would make millions writing about it when she woke up, or something very bizarre and well beyond her knowledge had just taken place.

Clare heard her breaths coming faster as her panic grew. It was almost as if she had somehow been unceremoniously dropped into some weird-a.s.sed time and place, which seemed utterly and irrevocably alien!

Clare tried hard to practice her deep breathing, anti-panic exercises, pulling air in down through her diaphragm, expanding her lungs and chest with the much-needed oxygen. She kept on repeating to herself that everything would be fine...just fine, otherwise she knew she would start freaking right out, and that would not help her one little bit.

A few minutes of repeating this to herself, and filling her lungs over and over with heady oxygen, she finally felt her heartbeat begin to settle down somewhat.

Clare let her eyes focus and tried once again to take in her new, alien surroundings. She could barely believe the sizes of the flowers-the smallest ones she could see were as big as her fist, and she was no pet.i.te little elfin woman. Clare craned her head to catch sight of enormous petals spread wide, large enough to encompa.s.s her whole head!

She took a hesitant step forward. The flower was so large, and the scent drifting out of it seemed oddly like a mixture of jasmine and rose. It was decadent, beautiful. Clare didn't want to resist the temptation to reach out and touch the petals, see if they were as silky smooth as they looked, yet some sort of inner warning was cautioning her to be careful.

Leaning forward, breathing deeply in the intoxicatingly beautiful scent, Clare questioned her insane desire to get closer to the large flower. She cried out when she saw the enormous petals snap shut around a small, buzzing insect she had never seen before. The snap of the "petals" closing around the unsuspecting insect had her gulping and firmly resolving to trust her instincts on this odd planet.

Clare carefully and slowly took a step backward. As the flower seemed to vibrate, her imagination, already in overdrive, suggested the flower was likely digesting the insect, and Clare continued to retreat until she stood back on the sandy path once more.

Taking another deep breath, she turned around in a circle, taking in the odd atmosphere and trying to calm the frantic buzzing inside her head. The insane question of how the h.e.l.l she could get home reverberated around and around in her mind, almost drowning out the millions of other questions vying for attention.

Clare walked a small way up the sandy pathway, and then returned to where she had started. As she slowly walked, she took deep, steadying breaths, determined to calm herself and her madly scurrying brain.

She silently thanked her years of self-enforced Tai Chi cla.s.ses, and concentrated on her breathing fresh air into her diaphragm, helping simultaneously to slow down her racing heart as well as steady her nerves.

Clare employed every single technique she had learned over the years, the iron-hard control she always privately prided herself on never seeming as difficult as now to capture and restore to her body.

Slowly but surely, she felt her strength and control returning, seeping back into her body, relaxing her as it gave her back a sense of strength and purpose. To help herself further, she mentally began to make a list.

Lists always help, she reminded herself.

Firstly, she had to be brave and head toward the lights she could see outside the small parklands area she seemed to be inside. Obviously, she needed to find out where the h.e.l.l she was.

Once she had discovered her whereabouts, then she could concentrate on how the h.e.l.l she could get back home. Clare nodded, feeling alone and scared but determined to not drop her armful of her handbag and tome, or turn into some weak, freaking-out crybaby.

Sadly, she looked at the park bench carefully, tried to memorize its details in case it became important later on. She took note of the large, blue-greenish-colored flower she had come close to being eaten by, and a few of the more gnarled and oddly shaped trees.

When she felt vaguely confident she knew the area she had "arrived" in, she took another look around the parkland and tried to decide on the direction she wanted to take.

She swallowed hard, straightened her back arrogantly and armed her mind with only steely determination. She would not crumble and turn into some hysterically screaming idiot. Clare was not a woman Too Stupid To Live, but a few moments of panic when discovering one was in a totally alien world was perfectly sensible. Not dealing with the fact and trying to get over it, however, was ridiculous.

She would take this calmly and in stride. It could be a h.e.l.l of a lot worse, she insisted.

Oh yeah? the sarcastic part of her mind interjected. What the h.e.l.l could be worse than this?

Clare smiled sardonically. I could be stuck here with Nathan Pawlsine, she informed herself. Strangely enough, the other part of her remained quiet, acknowledging the hit.

Although a part of her was completely, helplessly terrified, as she doubted she knew a soul here, the thought of being stuck on some remote, alien place with that creepy man was far more disturbing than being stranded here, effectively alone.

The insane urge she had been squashing since she arrived, the urge to scream out for help and curl into a ball somewhere and hide, dimmed as she smiled at herself. Really, it can't possibly be that bad.

She took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes. Turning around in a circle two or three times, she stopped randomly, let the faint sense of dizziness pa.s.s, and opened her eyes.

With her new direction chosen, she took a firm step down the way she had picked. With each pa.s.sing step, she felt her confidence grow and grow. She walked slowly, wanting to get a "feel" for where she was going. Her instincts told her she had picked correctly, even if it had been utterly random, and she had confidence in herself she trod in what she increasingly felt would become the right direction.

A dozen paces down the sandy track she felt her heart nearly explode from her chest in fright as the shadow of a large man stepped out between two of the trees she had been heading toward.

Chapter Two.

Considering how scared, out of place, and totally disorientated she was, Clare felt incredibly proud of the fact that she didn't scream, though she did softly whimper in the back of her throat.

The man's smile was friendly, yet Clare reminded herself that even the most crazed ax-murderers probably smiled this nicely at their victims in the beginning.

Were there ax-murderers wherever she was?

Of course there are, you ninny, came the scathing mental reply. The fact she seemed to be having an internal conversation with herself momentarily worried her more than everything else.

Was she totally losing her grip on reality? Clare bit down on her lip in thought. Nah, surely the fact she was worried about going crazy meant she was still fairly sane? At least for now.

"Ah, there you are." The strange man greeted her in a cheerful voice that startled her even more. He stood there on the edge of the park's pathway, his hands still and open, resting non-confrontationally beside his thighs. He simply stood there, a kind, understanding expression in his dark brown eyes.

Clare hesitated a moment. What on earth did he mean, "here she was"? She had absolutely no freaking idea where she was, so how could someone, anyone, be expecting her? She looked the man over more carefully.

Could ax-murderers possibly sense their victims? Or some other freakily nightmarish thing here in this world?

As she slowly looked this odd man up and down, she realized she felt no menace emanating from him. Indeed, the more she looked at him, and tried to get a grasp on him, the more she felt the odd man was being very, very careful to be charming and not frighten her at all.

She still felt wary, slightly disjointed. She couldn't truthfully say she felt afraid of this man, as she could honestly sense no hidden intent in him at all, yet she had no idea what to do or say.

Clare held the tome to her chest even more tightly and buried her hand in her purse, an instinctive reaction to the unknown situation. As soon as she felt her fingers curl around the familiar cylinder of mace, she let herself relax and regard the man.