Marielle takes him to the house closest to the motel. It's an unimpressive place, one-story built of cement block with a tile roof. Inside, the furnishings seem to be scavenged. Everything is old, faded and frayed -- and nothing matches.

There's a small kitchen and Marielle stops there and fills three chipped mugs from a bottle of pig's blood and warms them in the microwave. She puts them on a tray and motions for him to follow.

She leads him to one of the bedrooms and knocks on the door.

"Come."

He sees why they call this vampire "Richie" immediately -- the face of a teenager, freckles, coppery red hair. The leader is wearing jeans and a Lakers T-shirt.

But he also sees that the youthful appearance is deceptive. He can tell that this is a very old vampire. The aura of antiquity rolls off this one. He doesn't consider himself particularly sensitive to this sort of thing, but here it's unmistakable.

He's intrigued. In his experience, the very old ones -- the ones who make it past the half-millennium mark -- tend to look less and less human. This vampire is the exception. He seems entirely human.

"Welcome."

Richie rises and walks over, facing his visitor. He walks a circle around him.

"You're absolutely right, my dear," he says to Marielle. "You must learn to trust your impressions."

"How could it be? The prophecies ..."

Richie smiles. "My dear, you've forgotten the most important prophecy I've taught you.

"And so it is written that things shall come to pass that have not been prophesied."

He's a bit uncomfortable as Richie and Marielle discuss him as if he is deaf and blind.

"Hello, still here," he says irritably.

Marielle hands him one of the mugs and gives another to Richie.

"Forgive me. I'm being rude," Richie says. "Sometimes I forget my social skills."

Richie motions him to an easy chair and sits down cross-legged on a hassock himself.

"What do you want?" Richie asks.

He hesitates. He doesn't know, really. He decides to go with the least involved answer.

"I want the pain to stop."

Richie gives him a long look. He taps his lips with a finger and frowns.

"Do you know what is causing the pain?"

"This chip the friggin' government put in my head," he says, his voice trembling.

Richie looks surprised and turns to Marielle. She senses what her mentor wants and comes over, looking intently into his eyes and holding her hands on either side of his head, a few inches from his bleach-blond hair.

"There's something in there," she says at last. "Something unnatural. Sharp edges. Little jolts of electricity."

Richie raises his eyebrows. "My, my. This is intriguing. Leave us."

Marielle nods to Richie and leaves.

Richie sits looking at him, as if he expects something to happen.

"So, what's this all about?"

"I'm trying to decide what I should tell you. It's not an easy question. I don't have a prophecy to rely on -- so I'm not entirely certain about how things are supposed to turn out. Tell you too much, and I could screw things up completely."

"Great. So this is all just a bloody waste of time."

"I hope not. I can't help you with your chip. I'm not very good at technology. Always have Marielle program the VCR. Can't even get that right. And Marielle is only a little better. She can work a microwave and dial a telephone, but I wouldn't want her around any machinery that could hurt someone.

"But, actually, I don't think the chip is the root of your problem. It may be giving you headaches -- foreign object in your brain is liable to do that to you. But that's sort of an Excedrin Extra Strength sort of thing."

"If it's not the chip, what is it?"

Richie doesn't answer.

"Why don't you try asking me something else."

"What are you? I can tell you're very old. But you're not like any old vampire I've ever run into."

"I am the road less traveled."

"You decided not to be evil."

"Not exactly. Evil -- such a vague term. I decided to stop destroying. The universe does not give us -- vampires -- the capacity to create. We are cut off from Brahma, the creator. So we think of ourselves as the hand of Shiva. We forget that there is a third path -- the way of Vishnu, the preserver. That's my thing.

"That's why I think you're so interesting, by the way. There's a lot of Shiva and just a bit of Vishnu in you -- and that's to be expected. But you're the first vampire I've ever met who seemed to have any Brahma in him. I wonder whether that chip you hate so much unlocked it? Hard to say what's behind this.

"You've created something. That's what's messing you up right now. Creation is incompatible with everything vampires are conditioned to be. You can cast it out -- and you'll be comfortable again. Or you can make it part of yourself. Who knows what that will lead to? And I haven't a clue to which one you're supposed to do.

"Maybe what's happened to you is an aberration -- one of those random events that keeps the mechanism of the universe from being entirely predictable. Or maybe this is a really significant event -- something that is going to change everything."

"Bollocks. The fate of the universe doesn't pivot on my arse."

"Maybe, maybe not. If the beating of a butterfly wing can cause a hurricane on the other side of the planet, who knows what you could be responsible for."

He buries his face in his hands in despair. "Then you can't help me."

"I can't help you make the decision, no."

"I think I'm losing my mind. I'm going to stay out and watch the sunrise any morning now."

"I'm not surprised. Perhaps I can help you a little on that count. You're welcome to stay here a few days if you like. Ask Rosa for some of her herb tea. It should help with the headaches. And Marielle can help you get some rest. I think that's your most urgent need right now. You're exhausted. You've been fighting this thing to the point where you're worn thinner than Charity's chances of getting out of that block of ice."

"You watch Passions?"

"Yeah, you think Beth and Luis are going to find out about Sheridan?"

"What if I just stay here?"

Richie sighs. "I'm afraid that's not an option. Not that we wouldn't be tickled to have you. I think you'd fit in just fine with our little community. But this isn't your place.

"This is the nowhere you've always heard about. I don't know where you belong, but I'm certain it's somewhere. You're on a journey. This is a rest stop. The road is still before you."

------------

Marielle is waiting for him outside.

"Did he invite you to stay?"

"No."

"Pity. Oh well, Richie knows best."

"Said I could stay a couple of days."

"Good! It's always nice to have a new face around. We're all very fond of one another, but the conversation does get worn out after a while."

She takes him by the hand. "Let's go for a walk."

They walk out into the dessert beneath a moonless sky strewn with glittering jewels. There's a cool breeze that carries a clean scent of new foliage. The world is quiet except for a few insect clicks and chirps, and the faint sound of Jerry's boom box back at the barbecue. It's the Rolling Stones now.

I saw her today at the reception. In her glass was a bleeding man. She was practiced at the art of deception; I could tell by her blood-stained hands.

And you can't always get what you want, honey. You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want, But if you try sometime, yeah, You just might find you get what you need!

The End