: The fire flickered softly in the large brick fireplace; the soft, dancing flames cast their shadows over the walls of the large room, and on the dark green couch, armchairs, and black, glass-top coffee table that were in it. Outside, a heavy storm was raging, and the rain was coming down in sheets on the large windows. A tall lamp stand by one of the armchairs shed its light on the figure that sat in it; a tall, slender girl with large, dark eyes, and brown, wavy hair that was occasionally streaked by fiery red. In her hand, she held a book of sketches, and was pouring over the pages. They were mostly of people, and were obviously done with much talent. The artist's name, at the bottom of each page, seemed to signify a good friend.

: She turned the page. And suddenly, she was not alone; yet it seemed right that way. "Please, sit down", she invited the second figure, without looking up, but knowing who was there. Her voice sounded void of all feeling, yet full; and as he complied, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her, the light fell on his handsome, but pale face, deep green eyes, and long, black hair. He, too, expressed no emotion.

: "Who are you?" he asked, looking across at her. She looked up to answer the question, putting the book down on the coffee table, still open to the page.

: "I'm Batya. Nice to meet you, Louis." A slight smile was on her lips as she said it, and she looked polite, yet distant from him. "In case you're wondering, Batya is a variation of Barbara. My parents liked it."

: "I see." His eyes displayed a sea of calm, for the moment, anyway. : She reached again for the book. "Look", she said, getting up and giving it to him. "What do you think?"

: His eyes wandered over the page, on which was a perfect replica of his being. "I think she's very good", he replied, looking at the author's name. "Who is she?"

: "A good friend. ...Usually, all she draws is Armand, though."

: "Oh." A small flash of pain crossed over his face, barely visible because it was so ancient, and fast fading to become once again one of the spiderwebs in the corners of his soul. She had seen it, though. He began flipping through the next few pages, keeping his finger on the one picture. "Do you draw, too?"

: "Oui." She crossed the room, sitting back down in her chair, and smiling again slightly. "But not what she does. I don't see the world the way she does."

: "And you speak French, too, I see."

: "Partially", she nodded. "It's a love of mine, and has been so for a long time. I'm afraid I'm not as good as I'd like to be, though."

: "Hmm." He continued turning the pages, while she gazed at his expressive face. At length, she asked: "So, like seeing your whole life in picture form?"

: "I've seen it before."

: "Yes, there's a lot of stuff out there about you guys. Particularly on the Internet."

: "They can do what they want, I guess."

: "You still don't understand why so many people like you, do you?" Her voice became quietly striking and almost dark. He looked up immediately as she continued, quoting his own words: " 'Our white skin, our fierce eyes. Drink, you ask me, do you have any idea of the thing you will become?!' "

: "Madeleine's dead." The expressionless look came over his features again.

: "Yes, but your question's not, is it?" She looked at him earnestly. "You've tried to wake people up before, but they're blind, you've learned. They choose not to know the thing they will become."

: "True. They like us too much."

: "Exactly, and you must have worked out why, too."

: "Pray tell, I would like to hear your version."

: "A variety of reasons. For some it's one thing, for others another. One would be your looks, as you said, but I don't think it's the biggest reason." Her eyes sparkled.

: "What is it, then?"

: "Your sadness, the way you make people just want to jump right in there and save you. You're so utterly helpless at times. You appeal to their sympathy. They don't see you as what you are, they see you as humans. They see your 'other side'. And for some reason, we human beings just keep on thinking that we can actually reach you, that we can actually reach into that book or TV and get into your hearts." She sighed remorsefully, looking into his eyes.

: He was a little surprised. "I didn't expect that answer. You're right, you know. But what good does it do them?"

: "None whatsoever. In fact, it does them harm. But they don't see that... they never see it with anything..."

: She looked out the window at the storm, that was still raging and keeping the last rays of the evening sun totally away. Louis, however, was looking straight at her, interested. "What do you mean, they never see it with anything?"

: Batya looked at him again. "Think back to every time one of you has killed someone. Was the person scared to death of you? Not usually. I mean, once they found out that they were dying, they were, but not before. And do you know why? Simple - because they'd lost all fear. They were so fascinated. They never thought that someone, that something so beautiful could kill them. They never think that, no matter what kind of thing it might be... and that's exactly what kills them..." She had spoken cynically, and paused. Louis was still looking at her in his quiet, deep way, and it was almost eerie.

: "Are you afraid of me?" he asked presently.

: "Not now. Knowing you, it would take you a while to bite, anyway. But I don't trust you, either."

: "I won't harm you." It was gentle.

: "Somehow I knew that."

: "You are bringing us to one of the main questions out there, namely the argument about whether our kind is evil or not." Louis's ever-changing eyes became opaque, preventing her from seeing what he was thinking.

: "Correct."

: "You sound as if you believe we are." His voice was quiet.

: "Not exactly. I believe that evil is manifested in someone's actions. So apply it: you kill, right?"

: "Oui. But-"

: She held up a hand to stop him, continuing: "Yes, that would make you evil. And some of you do a whole lot of other things that I would definitely consider evil. However, things aren't that black and white. I believe that there is good in every evil person, and evil in every good person, to start with. But I also think that it is possible for us to become totally good... and totally bad."

: "A partial Yin Yang, then?"

: "Oui. So, now, the next question is: how do I determine whether someone or something is good or evil? What about those half/half characters? Hmm... you know, you aren't that uncommon in the world."

: "How so?"

: "Anne Rice, in you, is portraying many, many people on this planet. Just look - people like you are everywhere." She gestured with a sweep of the arm. "Take criminals."

: "Are you comparing us to criminals?" He was indignant, but hung his head at the same time. She read his thoughts: I'm damned.

: "Yes, I am, the reason being that there is some argument about whether they are good or evil, too. I mean people who kill. And the death penalty. 'They didn't show mercy, so they don't deserve it'. Ever heard that?"

: "Sure. They're considered evil."

: "Yes, but are they? Should they be punished like that? You realize that you are in the same category, so you would be liable for the same punishment. Think twice about the death penalty. But are they evil? Are you evil?"

: "We're back to the same question. Do you have an answer?" He sounded soft again, yet desperate.

: "Yes, I think I do. It lies in the fact that evil can be replaced with good... if you only want to. I believe that you are not evil unless you choose to be, and if there is still one single bit in you that wants to be helped, you are not totally evil. So no, you are not good. You kill. Agree?"

: "Yes."

: "But I also know that it is not the real you that does it, and that you would really like a way out of the hell your soul is in, a way to stop the vicious circle of your thirst for blood. Right?"

: "Oui."

: "So there you go, you aren't totally evil, either. You are the darker side of the Yin Yang. But I know, too, that you could become good."

: "What?!"

: "I'm sure you could. Or you could become totally evil. It's your choice. But remember, no one stays the same forever inside, not even you. Some of you will become totally evil after a while, those who choose. But none of you have to."

: "But I'm a naturally evil creature - I drink blood to live! How could Ibecome good?" It didn't sound at all like his usual way of speech.

: "Louis." Her voice was pleading, convincing now, it had lost its mysterious tone. "Don't you see? That is what we all are, too, we humans. We were made good, but became evil, and would be damned if there wasn't a way to change, if there wasn't a Savior, and if there wasn't our will and His strength. You as a vampire are no different from us in that respect. You aren't damned, just because you're what you are."

: There was a long moment of silence. Batya was surprised at what she'd just said. Louis seemed to have discovered something he hadn't thought of before. The storm was clearing slowly, revealing the evening dusk. Louis came over to her and gently took her face in his hands. "You're a kind little woman", he said, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. She barely felt it. Then he smiled and stood up.

: She, too, smiled slowly. "If you were real, I think I could like you." She looked down at the picture of him in her lap, then slowly closed the book. When she looked up again, the image was gone.