Christian Thorpe sat in his small quiet apartment watching the television; he was flipping through the channels when he caught the news.
     “Aerosmith's drummer Joey Kramer narrowly escaped serious injury when his Ferrari burst into flames while he was at a gas station. The accident happened around 6:00 tonight. He received minor burns on his hands, arms and leg. Doctors say that his recovery will take about two weeks, and shouldn’t interfere with the tour. The Nine Lives tour has already been put on hold once for singer Steven Tyler’s knee injury from back in April-”
    He didn’t hear the rest of the report. A chill ran through Thorpe, he was still watching out for the band: just in case. He always had a suspicion about Tyler’s injury. He telephoned Nicholas, “Did you hear about Joey Kramer?”
     “Yeah, I heard about it on the radio, some kind of a freak accident.”
     “I don't believe in freak accidents. That band has had too many freak accidents of late.”
     “Yeah, but you know it isn't Lilith.”
    Silence. Nicholas sighed; Christian Thorpe wasn’t the same man after he shot Lilith. There was a mark of sadness on his face, he had accomplished what he sat out to do: destroy Lilith. He had never considered the cost.
    Right after Thorpe came back form Oxford, Nicholas noticed the change in him. He was never a happy-go-lucky guy, but he would at least go out and have a beer. Now that was impossible.
    In fact, all he did was sit around, and think of Lilith. In the first few months, he often would speak of her; how he had made such a horrible mistake in killing his master. How there had to have been another way, how he should have helped her instead of killing her. Nicholas figured that he’d get her out of his system, and things would return to normal.
    He never pulled back out of it; Thorpe hadn’t worked on another case since. He spent his days and nights locked away in his apartment, flipping through the TV channels, working out, or reading his books. He was becoming more and more dependent on Nicholas to bring him everything from the outside world: his bottles of blood, his newspapers, everything.
    Christian Thorpe was a broken man; Lilith had ultimately won-she destroyed him.
     “Thorpe?” Nicholas broke the uneasy silence.
     “Yeah, I know, but maybe it's somebody else.”
     “So, what now?”
     “I'm going to go watch them, I don't want them to see me. If I need you, I'll call.”
     “You’re leaving your apartment?” Nicholas tone was one of disbelief.
     “This has to be done.”
    He flew out the window, and shortly was standing on Steven Tyler’s lawn.
     “Steven, you sure you don't want anything? I can make you a sandwich.” Teresa stood at the foot of their bed.
     “Nah,” he said, he clutched his pillow tighter. He was so shaken he couldn't eat. He tried to put on a brave face for the others, to be the pillar of the group, but Teresa knew him better than that. This was just too much for him to bear.
    She sat down, “He's gonna be alright. Joey's really lucky.”
    Steven gave a deep sigh, “I know; I’m just wound up.”
    She crawled over, and began massaging his back. “God, you're back is tight!”
    Teresa had magic fingers; he could feel his back relaxing. He wished that she could do something about his knee. Therapy wasn’t helping; he did everything they wanted him to do, but he feared the worst. He feared another surgery was in his future.
     “Joe called, the doctors are planning to send Joey home later tonight,” Teresa said as she continued to rub his back.
     “Why didn't you tell me that Joe called?” He snapped.      “I thought you were sleeping! I'm sorry.”
     “Sorry, hon.” He knew that her smile was his forgiveness. Steven picked up the phone and dialed. “Joe, have you heard from Joey?”
     “I talked to April, and he got second degree burns on his hands, arms, and his leg isn't as bad. He might need some skin grafts. They just don't know, yet.”
     “Oh fuck, really? How’d it happened?”
     “It's hard to put together. This is what April told me. Joey was going to have dinner with her, and he knew that he’d needed to fill up, so he pulled into Scituate on Route 3. He was pumping, and all of a sudden, there was fire coming out of the car. The attendant said Joey put his hand up over his face, and went backwards, and then this guy ended up pulling Joey out of the fire. By the time the fire trucks got there, the fire had taken the station, the pump, everything.”
     “Oh my God,” Steven murmured.
     “Steven, there's a real possibility that we might have to put the tour on hold again.”
     “Well, if we have to, then we will! Christ, Joe, if he’s hurt-”
     “Yeah, I know, Steven,” Joe's voice was calm, “I'm just telling you the facts. I know that, everybody feels like that. You know, you could use a little more time off, too.”
     “Sorry, Joe,” Steven said, he rubbed at his knee. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

    Thorpe was at a safe distance; he could hear Steven speaking with his wife. He sensed Steven’s shock, his feelings of despair. The more he watched, the more he listened, the more he thought about it; he was convinced that there was more here than met the eye.
    It was just too much of a coincidence that the two members of Aerosmith that had been approached by Lilith had been injured in 'freak accidents'. He knew that Lilith was gone. He had killed her, cremated her, and scattered her ashes in the field in Oxford.
    So, who was it? Who was seeking revenge on these men? Why weren't they after him? After all, he was the one that dispatched Lilith to Hell, not them.
    Could he be wrong? Could Lilith return from the dead?
    That horrible night, he had gone over the events of that night so many times. Why did she have to be so damned evil? He didn’t want to shoot her, what choice did he have? He never imagined that it would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. He never realized how much he loved her, until she was gone. Is there anything worse than destroying the only thing you love?
    He focused back to the problem at hand.
    He scanned the Tyler compound, and made his way to each of their homes; everything checked out, there was nothing out of the ordinary. He went into Boston, to the seedy little club, ‘Batwing’, the hangout for Goth kids and a few true vampires.
    It was the typical crowd, for a Wednesday night. He made his way to the bar.
    He knew the girl; they had a short fling years ago. She had long flowing blond hair; her name was Athena, she had been around for about a hundred and twenty years. She smiled at him; it was nice to see a friendly face.
     “Christian, long time, no see! Bloody Mary? Accent on the blood.”
     “You read my mind.”
    She poured him his drink, “Slow night, but then Wednesday's usually are.”
     “Anybody looking for me?”
    She shook her head.
    Thorpe drank, maybe he was wrong. He’d had an obsession with Lilith, maybe in more ways than one. He had never admitted loving her to anyone except Nicholas. Maybe his mind just couldn’t let her go.
     “You didn't hear this from me…” she leaned forward. Good old Athena, she was such a gossip! He knew she would tell him.
    He leaned forward too, “Yeah.”
     “A guy came in tonight and said he saw Lilith last night. Isn't that crazy!”
     “Yeah, crazy,” he finished his drink, “Where?”
     “Here in Boston.”
     “Did they say exactly where?”
     “Yeah at ‘Medieval’. I mean; it can’t be her!”
     ‘Medieval’ was a real vampire hangout, made Batwing look like Disney World.
     “I wouldn't be so sure, Athena,” he said, and added “Stranger things have happened.”
    He walked out; he had a million things running through his mind. What was Lilith up to now? He made his way to Nicholas' apartment.
     “Guess what?” Thorpe said as Nicholas’ door opened a crack.
     “Christian?” Nicholas was shocked.
    Thorpe bolted into the apartment; he was like a man possessed. “Lilith has been spotted in Boston.”
     “That's impossible!”
     “I'm not so sure, she's clever, I thought that this affair went too smooth! She had to escape. Somehow, she beat us!”
     “Lilith is dead! For God’s Sakes, Christian, accept it! Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe these are accidents? That Lilith had nothing to do with any of it! There are a lot of women that resemble Lilith; any tall, thin woman with long dark hair could be her. You have to get on with your life!” He saw that his words went tore Thorpe like a dagger; he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He put his hand on Thorpe’s shoulder, “I know it was hard, but you had to do it. She had to be stopped before she killed anyone else.”
     “I never opened the trunk, did you?” He knew he should have, but he couldn’t bear to see her again.
    Nicholas shook his head. “But there's no way she could survive four shots. Do you realize how much phosphorus would be in her?”
    Nicholas was right, but Thorpe’s instincts steered him. “I just don't know. I'm keeping an eye out for her.”

    He left, and went home; he knew that Nicholas thought he’d finally snapped like a dry twig. He didn't dare go into ‘Medieval’…not alone anyway. Lilith had a lot of friends, a lot of angry friends that would love to avenge her. There was nothing to do but to wait, and hope that everything was all right.
    The phone rang, and he got the shock of his life.
     “Hello, Christian,” She was as cool as ever.
     “Lilith!” he sprang to his feet. He did have the sense of mind to hit the record button.
     “Well, that didn't take long, now did it darling?” Lilith chuckled.
     “What do you want?”      “I think you know.”
     “I don't believe that it's you. You're-”
     “Oh, it's me darling, you put me in that trunk, yet your so fucking stupid not to look in it before you set it on the fire! I left, long before you even got into the truck. I killed a hooker and put her in my place. Her blood kept me going.
     “I followed you; I watched you two, and your pathetic ceremony, then I went back to Boston, and I healed myself up. I've just gotten back on my feet.”
     “Just in time to make Steven shatter his knee?”
     “I am innocent, that was his own fault. I will enjoy making him suffer with it.”
     “What?”
     “Steven's my guest. You shouldn’t have left his grounds. What kind of body guard are you?”
     “And Joey's accident?”
     “Accident? What accident? Never heard about it.” her voice seemed to have a genuine tone to it.
    She was lying; she had to be lying! “Lilith, listen to reason, this is complete madness! Let them be! They didn't hurt you! Meet me somewhere-”
     “I hope you can live with yourself; I hope you can look his widow in the eye,” she hung up.
    Thorpe realized it wasn’t over: He would have to destroy her once and for all. Love her, or despise her: it didn’t matter, if she was responsible, then she would have to be stopped. Nicholas was right; he had to get on with his life. He had to put his feelings aside; Thorpe quickly moved into action, he didn't have much time.

    Steven had a poor night of sleep. As soon as he did get to sleep, his knee would ache. He finally got up, went into his study and sat in a chair, elevating his leg helped.
    He began to dream...
    He was in a studio alone. He was sitting in an old electric chair, his arms, chest, and legs bound by the leather straps. He could feel this chill in the air, he looked to see a dark haired woman, he couldn’t really make out her features, but he knew that voice.
     “So, Mr. Steven Tyler, we meet again.”
     “Do I know you?”
     “Come now, Steven. How's the knee? Throbbing isn't it? I bet you wished that you would have accepted my proposal now.”
     “Proposal?” Steven echoed.
     “Oh, darling, really! You were there the night I died.”
     “If you're dead, then how can you be here?”
    Steven woke with a start. His heart was pounding; he was sweating. He looked around; he was still in the studio. He was still bound in the chair! Something triggered his memory: Lilith. What a different name! Lilith…it came flooding back to him, everything! Christian Thorpe had made him forget, but Lilith made him remember. He remembered that night, when she came to his suite and tried to destroy him. She tried to destroy all of them. He remembered everything.
    Steven could feel the sweat beading on his forehead; his hands were shaking. He looked around he was alone. He pulled at the straps, but they were too tight. He knew he had to escape; he had to get away from her somehow. He didn't know exactly what he'd do if he got free; he didn't have much speed, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stay here. He felt a chill in the air. He could feel his lips part.
    He turned his head to see Lilith standing in the doorway. Her hair was much straighter; she was bone thin, her clothes fit too loose, making her look even thinner. She still never blinked.
     “Sleeping beauty is awake,” she said.
     “Where am I?”
     “At ‘Medieval’; it's a bar.”
     “How?” v“I simply walked you out of your house. You left a note telling your wife that you had to be alone. You cannot be interrupted; you just have to figure some stuff out.”
    Steven felt his stomach knot up. “Teresa? My kids? By God, if you did anything to them- ”
     “I didn’t even see them. I don’t need them, I just need you.”
     “Did you try to kill Joey?”
    She smiled so sweetly. She picked up a baseball bat from the corner of the room, and tapped it in her hand.
    Steven was trying to grasp everything, “What are you gonna do to me?” His eyes fixed on the bat. She wouldn’t; would she? He thought about his knee, and how it would fell to have that bat crack across it. Just thinking of it made his knee ache.
     “Nothing.”
     “I don’t believe you.”
     “I guess you are just the bait in my trap.”
     “Thorpe?”     She smiled again, “Beautiful, and smart. Sorry that it’s a bit uncomfortable for you. I’ll have John bring in something for you.” She replaced the bat in the corner and left.
    A man entered. He was small, bony; his face came to a point, like a rat. He brought a tray, covered with a black silk handkerchief. He gave Steven an icy glare.
     “My name’s John; I am suppose to take care of you. I don’t like you, I just want you to know that.” He sneered. “But that’s what Lilith wants; for me to take care of you.”
     “Do you always do what Lilith wants?” Steven sneered back.
     “Yes. It’s my job; I do Lilith’s bidding. It is my purpose. She is very upset with you and Joey. I don’t like to see her upset. When Lilith gets upset, she gets terrible headaches. I don’t want to see her in pain.
     “I have a great deal of admiration for her. I respect her. Not like you, you aren’t fit to stand in her shadow.”
    Steven could feel sweat on his forehead again; he knew that he was in danger. He watched John intensely.
     “Oh, Steven we are going to have fun! I’ve got an old friend for you!” He pulled the handkerchief away, Steven gasped in horror. It was a small bag of some drug, a glass of water, a spoon, candle and syringe. “Just for you!”      “You can't be fucking serious!” Steven felt the blood drain from his face.
    He smiled again, as he lit the candle. “Lilith thought about this for a long time. She used to say, ‘How can I possibly destroy the poster boy for sobriety?’ Then it came to her. ” He motioned to the tray.
     “I'm going to pump you full of smack,” he held the bag up and shook it to make his point. “Then I'm going to let you fly and crash, say, five or six times. They will find you in a back alley, dead. Full of drugs, your family will have to live with the sad truth: You fell off the wagon, and it ran over you. You are such a hypocrite; preaching sobriety, and all the while, you’re shooting up. You are nothing but a liar, Steven Tyler. You lied to them, to everyone, to your friends, to the fans; you’re such a disappointment, Steven.
     “Such an illustrious career, and it will just be a footnote, for the death of the most famous junkie in the world.” He was right in Steven’s face.
     “You fucking bastard!” was all Steven could manage.
    He stood, “You call me a ‘bastard’ like it’s a bad thing!”
    John cooked up a batch. Steven could feel his stomach flip; he’d forgotten the sickening smell of it boiling away. He could feel his heart pounding; it felt like his heart was going to break out of his chest. He pulled at his restrains in vain. He pulled so hard that his hands began to go numb.
    John hummed. His back was turned to him, Steven couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but he knew the procedure quite well.
    He began to roll up his sleeve. “You do have such nice veins!”
     “John, please! Please, don't do this! I'll give you anything! Money, cars, houses anything! Don’t get me hooked again!” he screamed. All these years, clean and sober, for nothing. There was nothing he could do; he couldn’t break free.
    John ignored him as he swabbed his arm down. Steven felt the needle’s point touch his skin. He threw his head back and screamed as loud as he could.
    Lilith burst through the door. “John? What the bloody hell? You were supposed to feed him dinner!”
    John stood, still holding the syringe. “I’m taking care of him. Just like Joey.”
     “Joey,” she frowned. “You’re the one that sabotaged his car?” Her tone was of disbelief.
    John smiled. “Remember you said how you wanted to make them both pay? They will all pay for hurting you: Joey, Steven, Christian, Nicholas, and then the rest. They won’t get away with it.”
     “You stupid son of a bitch!” She screamed. She moved so fast that it was just a blur. In an instant, she retrieved the bat and followed thru on her swing, right into John.
    John went down onto the floor. The syringe landed at Steven’s feet. She followed him and hit him across his back; she took another swing at him. She was motionless for a second, then she hit him right in his stomach.
    In absolute anger, she pounded the floor with the bat until it broke in two. “Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want to hurt them?” she screamed.
    John clutched his stomach, “But you said-”
    Lilith kicked him in the face. “I told you that I changed my mind! That was months ago!” She gave him another kick, to make her point. She stood over John, her teeth and fists clenched; she was just waiting for a good reason to beat him again.
     “You apologize to him!” Lilith finally ordered through her clenched teeth.
    John looked at her like she was insane, she raised her fist to strike him. John quickly stood.
     “Mr. Tyler, I am very sorry that I tried to hurt you. Please accept my apology.”
    Steven managed to nod an acceptance.
     “Now, John,” Lilith picked up the syringe. “Your will return to your quarters, I will deal with you later.”
    John’s eyes widen, he said nothing and left.
    Lilith looked at Steven; his hung down, he cried. He didn’t want to show her any weakness, but he’d always been so emotional.
    Lilith sat on his lap, she was at least careful of his knee. She looked at his arm, and then pulled his sleeve back down. “Aw, sugar, it’s alright. The needle didn’t even break your skin.” She ran her finger along his cheekbone, the down to his chin; she held his chin in her hand and raised his head. She wiped away his tears with the black silk handkerchief. He tried not to shiver; he tried not to show fear.
     “John was right: I was going to take you out, like that, but,” she stared in his eyes, “When I saw you tonight, well, it clenched it. I just don't think I can destroy something so beautiful. You have such beautiful eyes,” she gently kissed him on the forehead. “Are you hungry?”
    He shook his head; how could he even think of food?
    She stood; her hands went to her temples. Steven was about to ask, when she turned and left; he was alone. He had time to think. He thought that perhaps it had all been staged, so he would think that Lilith was his friend. But his gut feeling said it was real. He knew that smell. She had saved him: he knew it. He silently thanked God, and prayed to get out of this mess.

    Thorpe silent moved through the Tyler home, he found the note that Steven had left; soon the family would be up, he had to move quickly. He found a calling card, Lilith's name and her home address. He flipped it over; there was a handwritten note about Bloodline at ‘Medieval’.
    The sun, the damned sun! He still had to be wary of it. Soon, it would rise, and he would have to hide, but it would give him all day to plan his night.
    He sat at home, listening to the tape of their phone conversation over and over again. He could hear traffic, he could hear music, and people talking; she was at ‘Medieval’. He knew that she felt comfortable there. The club would have been winding down; it would be empty by now. She had undoubtedly left this slide in as a clue. He wasn't that stupid; he knew a trap, when he saw one. If he just walked in, it would be nearly impossible to get Tyler out without some serious bloodshed. He couldn't put Steven in danger; he couldn't live with that burden for eternity.
    Thorpe was onto something; Lilith was punishing him! What better way than with guilt? She knew that he'd see the obvious connections; she wanted him to suffer mentally before she killed him.
     ‘I hope you can live with yourself; I hope you can look his widow in the eye.’ Her words echoed through the tape, and through his mind. He dialed Nicholas; it was going to be a long day.

    Lilith returned hours later and leaned on the edge of the soundboard.
    He just stared straight ahead. He remained silent. He had thought about her, how she could find your weakness. 'Show no fear' he kept thinking.
     “Are you hungry yet?”
    Silence. ‘If she knows you’re afraid, you’re dead,’ he thought.
     “I made you some breakfast.”
    Silence. ‘You can’t let her get into your head. Show no fear’
     “Do you want some-”
    He could remain silent no longer. “I just don't understand. Why are you doing this to me? You're torture me, then you're Martha fucking Stewart!”
    She exploded in anger, just as angry as she had been to John. Her fists clenched. Steven involuntarily sunk back in the chair. “Torture! You don't know the meaning of the word torture! Suffer like I've been suffering for months! Look at me! I know that I look like shit! I look like I’m an anorexic! I had such a fever from the poison that it felt like my blood was boiling, every bone, every joint in my body ached!”
    The anger left as quickly as it had come. She knelt beside him; she put her hand on his. “Sometimes, I just don't know what comes over me.” She seemed so sincere; her eyes were full of sorrow. He remembered: She was still holding him as a prisoner. “I’ll get your breakfast.” She quickly left.
    She reappeared with a serving tray. There was a bowl of cornflakes, eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, a small carton of milk, coffee and a banana. She pulled up a small table and sat the tray on it. She unfastened his left arm.
     “Enjoy!”
    Steven was starving; he wished he’d taken Teresa up on her sandwich offer. It looked and smelled good but he didn't dare eat.
    She leaned on the soundboard again, “What's wrong with it?”
    ”What did you to it? Sprinkle LSD over it?” Steven’s eyes narrowed.
    She shook her head, “No! No, Steven! I won't hurt you; that is if you do what you are told. I'm after Thorpe. I don’t blame you for what happened; Nicholas and Christian were the ones that shot me. I just want to make Thorpe pay.”      “Then let me go, Lilith.”
     “No.” Her voice was firm.
    Steven picked up the spoon, and looked at the cereal. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk it.
    Lilith shook her head. “Steven, you have to eat something.”
     “I have to take a piss.” It was a crude way of putting it, but he didn’t care. He thought if he got loose from the chair, maybe he could find someway of getting out of here. But then where was here? Where had she taken him? He had no idea how long he’d been asleep.
     “Oh, sure.” She moved his breakfast table out of the way, and unfastened the other restraints; she helped him stand.
So much for running, he hadn't realized how his legs had gone numb. He stood for a long time, trying to get his circulation going again. She stood beside him, just like his therapist did, to be ready to catch him if he lost his footing. He didn’t like it; he pulled his arm away from her.
     “It's over here,” she turned on a light switch revealing a small room with a toilet, sink, and shower. She did watch him walk as if she was going to be ready to pounce on him.
    He gingerly walked over, “Nice studio,” he said. It was state of the art, he could tell just by the board.
     “Thanks.”
    He noticed there were three guitars in the far corner; all were Strats. One was a twelve string; black with an ivory inlay of a dragon that covered most of the body. Another was a blood red six string, with a black skull inlayed onto it. The third was a six-string with a simple purple body. Joe would have loved them. “Are these yours?”
     “Yeah, I love the guitar. Haven’t played for too long.”
     “So you live in a bar?”
    Lilith shrugged, “Yeah, it goes with the job. I’m in the house band; we’re called Bloodline. Some blues, hard rock, that sort of thing. Please leave the door open.”
    He looked at himself; Christ he was a mess! He hadn’t slept in the chair very well, his eyes were red and swollen, and he needed a good, clean shave.
    As he pissed, he watched her through the door. She uncorked a wine bottle and sat back down at the soundboard. She took a long drink; she cringed in pain, and stared at the wall.
    He walked out, slowly; he could feel his injured knee lock up and his leg begin to cramp. He stopped; he was unable to go any farther.
     “What's the matter?”
     “Fuckin' knee!” he managed to exclaim.
    She went to him, “Let me help you.”
    He pushed her away, and almost lost his balance. He was doubled over, it hurt worse than the night he injured it.
     “Steven!” she scolded him. She knelt beside him, and begun to gently massage his leg. “Your thigh, it's got a knot in it! Your leg’s completely seized up!” She was helping, but he didn't trust her. “I think you'd better lie on my bed.”
     “Honey, I can't fucking walk!”
    She put her arm under his shoulder, “Pick your foot up.”
    He did; she basically carried him into the next room, her bedroom. It wasn't like he imagined it at all. Everything was either in black or silver, yet it was elegant, not the Gothic horror he'd expected. There was a huge four-poster bed, black canopy, and black comforter. She helped him onto the bed.

Part 2