This is a short story I wrote just for the hell of it. It's not my best work and it's pretty random, but oh well, if you enjoy it that's cool, if you don't, then that's cool too.

Red ribbon twisted into knots tied loosely around his picture, the one I’d torn out of our high school yearbook. Multitudes of red candles burned and rose oil scented the air as I rubbed it on my wrists, throat and lips. I murmured prayers to Ishtar, goddess of love and war; she would understand my need tonight.

He would come tonight, to the open field where I knelt. I tied the last knot in the spell that would bind him to me, make him love me again. It was wrong; to manipulate another with magick, but there was no other way. "By earth, air, fire and sea/ as I will so mote it be," I whispered the words that ended the spell and sank back against the trunk of the oak tree. There was only one thing left to do. I pulled the vial out of my pocket and drank its contents in a single gulp. I fought the urge to heave as the liquid slid down my throat, it tasted vile, poisonous but it was the key to my plan.

I wiped my mouth clean and looked up as a shadow separated itself from the darkness. He was still a part of the night even when he entered the firelight, dark hair, dark clothes, darker eyes and pale, moon-touched skin. We stared at each other, noting all the changes, all the things that were still the same. There was so much distance between us now, maybe there always had been. Maybe I was just a love struck fool who had imagined a connection where there had never been one.

"You shouldn't have done this," he whispered. He felt the spell, felt the pull, felt the desire. He was mine and he knew it, but he resisted anyways. In a dark, secret corner of my heart I was proud, he'd been my pupil and he'd learned his lessons well. He was still trapped though no amount of struggling could save him now; I'd burnt clippings of his hair in the candles and knotted it in the ribbons. I was still master and he was still the pupil, he couldn't free himself from my spell.

"It's the only way," I said simply, "I can't let you do this."

I'd loved him from the first day I'd met him. He'd been the only one willing to talk to the new girl in school, the freaky witch girl. He was my only friend and my first love. My dark, beautiful boy, whose glance moved my soul and whose touch my whole being craved. I should have hated him for betraying me, but I didn't, I couldn't. Love makes you stupid like that.

"You have a dark sense of humor, coming here," he gestured to the tree. There were still bits of rope tied around a thick branch. They'd cut the body down clumsily. He smiled, that was the only thing that had changed, his smile, or perhaps it had always held that harsh edge. "I want you," he spoke the words with reproach, but desire burned in them, and in his midnight eyes. "I thought I wouldn't love you anymore, but I still do, or maybe it's just your spell." I stood pressed against the tree as he stepped close and wrapped his arms around me, molding our bodies together.

"Did you ever really love me, or was I just the means to an end?" I asked; his face was inches from mine.

"I loved you, stupid me," he whispered against my skin as he kissed my cheek, so very chaste. "At first you were an amusement, a diversion from this dull town. It was while before I appreciated what you could teach me, and learned what I could become. It was harder to do because I love you, but I wanted this." His lips moved to mine; soft kisses that gained intensity like a cigarette starting a forest fire. I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers twisting in his hair. He left me gasping and trailed kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

The pain was excruciating when he bit down, fangs piercing flesh, tearing past the jugular vein and down into the carotid artery, where the blood is hot and fresh from the heart. You didn't make vampires like in the books and movies, no biting and no exchange of blood. Folklore had it right: dead warlocks, heretics and suicide victims with their corpse left out in the moonlight made the best vampires. He had met all of the requirements and more.

I screamed, but the nearest house was half a mile away, no one would hear me. Shock set in and I started feeling numb…Or maybe it wasn't shock paralyzing me…

He jerked back, spitting mouthfuls of blood and swearing. "What did you do?!" he shouted, wiping my blood away from his mouth but it was too late. I smiled ruefully as I sank down the tree trunk, leaving a smear of bright blood along the bark. "Bitch! What did you do to me?!" He screamed as he stumbled and fell to the dirt.

"Hemlock," I showed him the empty vial, "An effective poison for vampires, as well as humans."

He looked as hurt and betrayed as I'd felt when they found his body swinging from the oak tree. "How could you? I thought you loved me?"

I closed my eyes, those words stung. I loved him but that couldn't excuse two dead children and a score of mutilated pets. I'd helped created this monster, I'd taught him my secrets and spells because I loved him, and like the wizard Merlin, my pupil had betrayed me for power. I had created him; it was my responsibility to destroy him. I just couldn't live with myself after the deed. The numbness was moving up my body, soon it would reach my lungs and I would stop breathing.

"I still love you," I whispered. He lay on the ground, staring at me, dark eyes going dull.

"I love you too," he answered. We were silent; those were heavy words for dying people.

"Do you really believe in rebirth?" he asked finally, "Do you really believe that we'll live again?" His voice was heavy and slow, the poison was at work.

"Yes," my voice was barely more than a gasp. It was so hard to breath.

"Then maybe we won't screw things up next time…" his voice trailed off in a shuddering wheeze. I smiled and closed my eyes for the final time.

"Maybe…"