He was perched in the same tree that he was every night, a lone shadow in the dark. His pale ears twitched at the sound of my approach. Before I could say “demon slayer” I found myself with a sword at my throat and a beautiful face in my own. “Who are you and what are you doing in my territory?”

“My name is Rose, and I’m your soul mate.”

My words shocked him, I could see. His eyes flashed crimson for a second, then back to green when he realized that he was losing control. “What?”

“You heard me just fine, demon. I’m your soul mate.” I looked him straight in the eye as I said this, unafraid on the outside, shaking in fear on the inside.

“How do you know this? This is impossible.” He backed off, too weirded out by my proclamation to realize that he had dropped his sword.

“It’s not impossible. It’s improbable, true, but not impossible.” I unsheathed my own sword from where it was slung down my back, often brushing against my hips.

“You didn’t answer my question, human. I asked how you came to this crazy realization.” He glared bullets at me then, and I realized where the expression if looks could kill originated.

“I may be human, demon, but I’m still a psychic, and I know what I’m talking about!” I brushed my brown hair out of my silver-gray eyes and glared right back. “You should remember me if you dig deep enough in your thick skull.”

His expression grew pensive, then softened with a fond memory. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Rosalie Montgomery, would it?”

He obviously remembered the same night I did, five hundred years ago. I was cursed to this immortal life because of that fateful darkness. I was but a young maiden of twelve when I stumbled into a nest of venomous demon bees, where I was stung many times with their life changing venom. I would have died that night if it weren’t for the demon standing before me, the harsh look on his face exactly like the one he had worn that night.

ℑ

I had lain on the ground, near death, waiting for the final blow, my white nightgown torn to little pieces, when a shadow sprung out of the woods toward the bee with stinger raised. The shadow cut him down, along with the rest of its hive, before slinging me over his shoulder and carrying me off into the woods where he had climbed out at.

We covered many miles that night, until he reached a waterfall, one with a cave carved from the erosion the running water had caused. He placed me gently inside and assessed the damage. Determining I would live, he left the cave for a period of about fifteen minutes. In that time, I gained a little more consciousness.

1

When he returned, I was sitting up, leaning against a cave wall. He looked into my eyes to see if I was awake before asking in a kind voice. “What is your name, little one?”

“My name is Rosalie Montgomery, and I am no little sprite.” I had answered then, not yet realizing that, like the bees, he was a demon as well.

He laughed quietly then. “Not to the mortal men, but to me, you are little.” He brushed cool water from the fall across my brow and whispered in my ear. “The venom from the bees will make you immortal, little one. I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you in time to save you from this hell.”

“It’s all right.” I replied sleepily, my eyes threatening to flutter closed.

“No, it’s not. See me in about a half a millennia, and tell me what you think of this life then.” After that, I did fall asleep, but not before asking his name.

The last word I heard before I lost all consciousness was “Marcus.”

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“So, Marcus, it is about five hundred years later, and I have decided that this life isn’t so bad. It sucked having to bury my family and friends, but I got over it. Now that they’re all gone, I believe you have some answers for me. Like why the hell I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for five hundred years.” I glared at him again.

“Rose, I don’t owe you any answers.” When I opened my mouth to deny that claim, he laid a hand over my lips. “I don’t owe you any answers because you already know them. All the questions you seek answers to have already been solved by your heart.” He laughed. “I can’t believe you remembered that dare after five hundred years. Then again, I never forgot. I never could stop thinking about you either. I see that you’ve changed quite a bit. No longer the twelve year old girl, I see.” His gaze scanned my form. “Nope, definitely not a twelve year old girl.”

“I haven’t been twelve in so long. I don’t remember what it was like.” I whispered.

“I do. You were beautiful, even then. Your dress was torn and muddy, and you still looked like an angel. Your brown hair was knotted and everything, and still you looked perfectly groomed. No other victim of the killer bees ever looked so graceful as you. I was glad that I could stop them before they killed such perfection forever.” He ran a hand from my temple to my chin, pushing it up to meet his eyes. “And I almost did so myself just this night. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a lot harder to kill now, Marcus. No need to be sorry.”

“And yet you still carry a sword like a demon slayer, slung across your back and twined with that gorgeous hair. That was why I struck this night. I smelled you days ago and was waiting for you to finally approach to tell me of why you were watching me.” He smiled. “And now I know. Rosalie Montgomery. I thought you would have been taken by now.”

2

“You know as well as I that we can’t get involved with the normal humans. People would begin to wonder why we never aged.”

“You speak true, Rose.”

“I know I do, that’s why I said it.”

“Rosalie, such temper. You still have that fire I see. Did you know that most demon bee victims are paralyzed for days after the attack. And yet I come back after fifteen minutes and you are already trying to stand! It amazed me. You amazed me.”

“Then why didn’t you try to find me, Marcus? Why?”

“Because, Rose, it was complicated. Why didn’t you come looking for me sooner?”

“It was also complicated.”

“If you tell me of what you did the last five hundred years, I’ll tell you of my own experiences. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

I elevated my chin, sat down on a rock, and motioned for him to sit beside me. I started from the morning after the bee attack. I had looked around, and he wasn’t there. From then, I continued the story of my life, five hundred and twelve years and counting. From then, I was absorbed in my tale.

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