She couldn’t sleep in this bedroom any more, as she could almost feel the pain Amelia must have felt. The first time she set foot back in here, and found the ripped pieces of the letter she had left, and the jewellery she had bought Amelia sitting on the pillow, it almost destroyed her. She had ordered the room left untouched, and now she came here most days to think of Amelia.

Byron walked over to the bed and picked up the pillow from Amelia’s side of the bed. It was her daily ritual. She might not be able to hold her ex-lover, but at least she could feel close and inhale her beautiful scent. She put her arms around the pillow and pulled it to her face and smelled—nothing but laundry detergent.

Her fury rose in an instant. She dashed out of the room to the top of the stairs, and bellowed down to the staff going about their business downstairs, “Who washed this? I ordered my bedroom remain untouched!”

She felt a mixture of anger and panic. It was the last thing she had of Amelia, and now it was gone. The attendants looked up at her with worried faces, as she ripped the pillow apart and all the feathers fell lightly through the air. She dropped what was left of the pillow and sped downstairs at unbelievable speed. The staff stood still and nervously waited for her to enter the lift.

Byron gazed at herself in the mirrored interior of the lift. Her eyes were blood red, her fangs had erupted, and blue veins protruded from her temples, giving her a wild and dangerous look.

She leaned her forehead against the mirrored surface and smashed her fist into the wall, making a big dent in the metal. It was bad enough to feel the pain of losing her lover, but to feel the guilt of hurting Amelia was destroying the last goodness inside of her.

In the last six months she had been changing, every day that passed without Amelia. She had become harder and less emotionally connected to the humans around her. When she took blood, she was inconsiderate and bad tempered and took too much a good deal of the time. She had even started having dreams about hunting down her prey, and gorging on their warm blood until they were drained.

In essence she was scared she was losing herself to the darkness. The monster Byron believed rose inside her, and that she had spent centuries keeping in check, was winning the war of control.

The lift reached the basement and she walked into her office. She needed some connection with Amelia, something just to calm her soul.

Byron sat at her desk and said, “Call Bhaltair.”

Bhal’s face appeared on one of the screens on her wall. She bowed her head to Byron and said, “Principe.”