Ailil drained Midir and tossed his carcass aside. He emitted a large, wet belch, and then took a seat on his new golden throne. He toyed with his large dagger, twisting it on a fingertip, then tossed it with perfect aim upward and into my right shoulder. He looked up at me and laughed.

"Don't suppose you've seen the cauldron, have you Aingeal?"

"Wouldn't be bigger than your head, would it?" I grunted.

"Well, I'm thinking," he stepped off the throne and began pacing the chamber. He took a bow and arrow from one of his soldiers, aimed quickly, and shot the arrow through my right hip and deep into the earth above, pinning me there like a butterfly specimen. "I'm thinking you might not know where it is, after all. Perhaps you're after the cauldron yourself. And I'm thinking that draining you is going to be sticky business, delicate business. You're Slayer-fed, but not by victory. She GAVE the power to you. And a nice looking necklace you've got there, Aingeal. A bit gaudy for these times, but clever. Your head I cannot have. Direct from your heart I must drink, to get the power, and as it WAS given, it must BE given,"

"You're not my type, Ailil," I said.

He fired another arrow into my left shoulder, pinning me even more securely to the ceiling.

"Didya know," he grinned up at me as he traipsed around the chamber, hands behind his back, "That I count Doyles among my relations?"

"I'll be sure to put that in my rolodex,"

"I do. I have a distant relation that works with you,"

"You'll never get to him,"

He laughed. "Oh, he won't turn. He's as hopeless as you. But I know a bit of blonde honey cake is lookin' for you. And if he's not on his toes, if he's distracted...she might...she might end up sweetening my own table,"

"She could dust you with one hand tied behind her back,"

Ailil reached up and ripped my shirt from my chest; the movement sent an astonishing variety of pain through me as the arrows jostled in my flesh. He picked his knife from my shoulder and traced a semi-circle just under my rib cage, on the left, outlining my liver; he sank the knife in deeply and began to saw. I heard a strangled sound, vaguely recognizing my own voice, and the room began to waver. I saw Ailil holding a dark, moist morsel to his lips, and then I saw blackness. Briefly. I was standing under flowering trees; it was a fragrant June night with a pearl-colored moon. I couldn't make out the building, but you were standing on the stone steps with your back turned. You tossed a bunch of flowers in the air, they were white roses and night-blooming jasmine, although I don't know how I knew that. You tossed them too high; a group of women at the base of the steps craned their heads and turned dizzily, bumping into each other. Finally the flowers descended, white ribbons fluttering, and mayhem ensued. Willow emerged, prize held high, amid deafening shrieks. You held your skirts up as you walked slowly down the steps, gazing at me with so much love in your enormous, beautiful eyes that I actually felt my heart move. You raised your arms and wrapped them around my neck as I lifted you, and your white silk dress crumpled against me. I stood holding you, transfixed by the way you were looking at me, soaking it in. You pinched my ear and laughed at me. "Kiss me, silly," you said. John has caught me writing and I must put this aside and rest again. I'm healing slowly, which worries me, as the Mayve is even stronger now, and I must defeat her as soon as possible. Birog has assured me, but I'm sick at the thought of anything happening to you. Vampires can't pray, they can only hope, and crave, and despair, and refuse to despair, and fight. If it were only as easy as trading myself, I would have, long ago, but it isn't. If I make it home, if you will see me, I'm going to ask you to marry me, I'll ask you a thousand times. Not because I believe it will change your mind about me, but because I will have to. I don't care how pathetic it is.

I love you.

Always.