Monsieur Allen sat for a long minute just looking at her.  The 
           bold inspection disturbed her in a way that Alice wasn’t quite sure she 
           should feel.  Or maybe it was the impossible reality of his being alive 
           that was affecting her.
           "Did you really believe you could escape me?" he finally said.
           "I didn’t believe it," Alice gasped.  Her mouth twisted in an expression 
           of fear and repugnance. "But, how can you  really be YOU?"
           "Ah, my little bitty pretty one, how can you even ask me that when the 
           evidence is standing here and staring you in the face," Monsieur Allen 
           said, spreading his arms wide to dramatize the point. "And voila, here I 
           am, in the flesh, so to speak. "
           Alice looked at him questioningly as he took a step towards her and 
           stopped.  
           "I want you to …,"
           "B-but that storm," Alice said, backing up. "… and the woods at 
           Ironwood Castle.  The whole thing about the missing maidservants.  And 
           the …"
           "… come back with me.  Nobody must know," Monsieur Allen said, ignoring 
           her while taking one more step closer.
           "Wait!  I want to ask a question first," she said, stalling for time to 
           think. When he didn’t answer, she went on. The words formed in her mind 
           from out of the past, opinions she had never before had the courage to 
           speak.  "Are you … are you really alive?" 
           The chair legs scraped the floor as Monsieur stood to pull her in his 
           arms. She offered no resistance but she didn’t come to him as eagerly as 
           she had in the past either.  But Monsieur Allen took no notice of that.  
           The long sway of her china-blue nightgown rustled softly as she 
           struggled against him. 
           The numbness caused by his touch didn’t last long under the demand of 
           his kiss.  His mouth moved hotly over her cheeks, a vague roughness, 
           like his hands, searching her, possessing her.  With an effort, she 
           turned away from him, her heart thudding heavily within her chest.  
           "I don’t want you to ever touch me like that again. Now, the others are 
           in the parlor waiting for us.  They can show you out," Alice decided as 
           she edged him toward the doors.  
           Monsieur Allen pulled in his anger and dragged his gaze away from 
           Alice’s figure and the tantalizing sway of her thin nightgown.
           "You’re coming back with me to Snowdale," he reminded her sternly.  He 
           seemed amused by the flush in her cheeks. "Because you’re still one of 
           us, after all, now aren’t you?" 
           When he took another step toward her, she instinctively turned on her 
           heels to run. She had to get away, but somehow she couldn’t move, 
           feeling the fire from his yellowed eyes burning right through her, 
           calling her.  Even though she was confused and filled with terror, she 
           knew something else was wrong too.  As she turned back to once again 
           face the monster, her senses finally told her what it was.  It was his 
           odor – one that she had never smelled before. A secret, moist smell.  It 
           was not pleasant, nor foul, not a living smell, not a strong smell 
           either … not anything she could ever hope to describe. 
           "S-stay away from me." Alice’s finally managed to croak.  
           Could it all be happening again, more than a year later?  She remember 
           the terrible secret she had vowed to never reveal, the castle, the 
           children, the loneliness and suffering, and finally his death.
           But that was Snowdale. A year ago. Far away.  Things like that can 
           happen in Snowdale. Yet here he was.  But not again, she thought.  Not 
           again. Not now.
           "Come closer to me," was all he said, reaching for her hand to draw her 
           in. "Here. Stand here and let me look at you."   Alice was conscious of 
           the heavy roughness of his voice as it closed around her consciousness, 
           holding her firmly in place.  His yellowed eyes continued to focus on 
           her, burning her in their intensity, as he reached out and stroked her 
           hair.  
           Don’t touch me," Alice said defiantly, all the while trying to pull 
           away but failing.
           He towered above her, looking down at her slender body.  It had been 
           too long since he’d seen her, and his body was hungry for the feel of 
           her softness.
           "A long wait," Alice heard him whisper, and then he pushed her before 
           him, his large body and coal black hair a silhouette lit dimly from 
           behind, a shadow with hard, cold hands.  Finally, she was able to move 
           away from him, but he shook his head saying nothing.  His flick of the 
           eyes to her nightgown was enough to make the point.  Taking both her 
           small hands in one of his, he stretched her taut above the floor pinning 
           them to the heavy wooden door above her head.  But she began to panic in 
           earnest at the sight of  his other hand, and her panic quickly turned 
           into terror that released a flood of uncontrollable tears and tortured 
           wails as  Monsieur Allen slowly raked five long sharp fingernails down  
           her nightgown, effortlessly shredding the delicate fabric as they 
           journeyed over the curves of her trembling body.  He removed her 
           glasses, then lowered his head and kissed her tear-filled eyelids and 
           followed with his tongue the outline of her face.
           Slowly, slowly, his lips moved along her chin, ever closer to the 
           slender throat pulsing with life, drinking in her fragrance, brushing 
           the warm skin with light kisses, her chest heaving beneath his mouth
           "N-no …" Alice mewed.  She tried twisting and pushing him away from 
           her, but Monsieur Allen still pinned her hands.  She closed her eyes, 
           shame and fear mixed, as he took her earlobe into his mouth, taking 
           small bites in the warm flesh.  She tried to stand as rigid as her 
           thoughts, to separate herself from the shameful tortures of his 
           relentless intentions, but her will-power failed, her neck arched, and 
           then she cried out in pain as the sharp canines started to press against 
           her throat.
           He was smiling at her when she finally opened her eyes.  Her face was a 
           mask of terror as she looked up at him.  "P-please, I ---" she began, 
           when suddenly a knock came at the door.