Author's Note: Hiatus is over! I am so sorry that I haven't updated in so long, but hopefully I'll be able to catch up in the next week and make you all happy. This chapter – because I seem to have made her particularly unhappy and because it was her birthday the Sunday before last – is dedicated to amy-fielding.

Please read, review and enjoy! }-)

He raced desperately through the corridors toward the throbbing disco music. He refused to imagine her – no – he couldn't bear the thought of his Alexandra cold and lifeless, carelessly thrown around by the feral street-rats.

He whirled around the corner and his heart thudded painfully. The sight that met him in the school corridor was horrifying. Her skin was pale and lifeless, her eyes were dark-rimmed and gleaming, and her body was encased in satin and lace –

"I'm too late."

"What do you think of my costume?" She asked, smiling gaily and posing in a sultry manner at him, as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary.

"Costume?" He asked, apparently baffled at the concept. At this, she blinked; Mr Count could be quite ridiculous sometimes. It wasn't as if she'd wear something like this normally – and it was Halloween.

"Well, I'm the bride of Dracula – Mwahahahaha!" She added the last for good measure, thinking that perhaps it would sound good. Unfortunately it didn't sound as good as it did in her head – and Mr Count was looking at her as if she was a lunatic.

Never mind – it was just as well. She didn't want him to like her like that, anyway. She'd decided this after that drink they'd had – no, she wasn't going to think about that, anymore!

At that, he giggled – oh this was too much! Too good to be true. Oh she was … she was … alive! Thank Go – er – whatever!

"Oh … you look …. Delectable. The outfit's a real h-heartstopper." He only wished she'd adopt the style – along with sleeping in a coffin and supping on blood (with him, of course).

"Oh, well…you didn't dress up?" At this, the Count grinned to himself, the perfect idea forming in his brain. He stalked toward her, noting the way her eyes widened with an interest that she couldn't hide, no matter how many times she said it wasn't suitable.

"Greetings. I am Count Dracula. Your Husband." If only, he thought. But he couldn't resist a small application of showmanship – it was something he could do that no stupid breather peasant man could. He chuckled, baring his impressive (he'd been told) fangs for her delectation and delight. It seemed to be working judging by the gleeful grin that curved her alluring lips.

"Love the colour-changing contacts. And those fangs are amazing! Where d'you get them – ebay?"

"I made them myself." He chuckled, before extending his hand to her and leading his lady (well, not quite, but that wasn't the point) into the party.

"I'd ask you to dance, Mr Count," she joked, "but I can't see you dancing to this sort of music." Yes, that's it, Alex, she thought, keep it light.

At that, her employer turned to her, wide eyed. "Would you like to?" he asked.

"Er, no." she smiled, she wouldn't put him through that humiliation. She supposed she'd already caused him enough grief – she was just thankful to have kept her job, in all honesty.

"This isn't really my sort of music, either, although," she leant into him conspiratorially, watching all the pupils dancing in their fairy-wings and fake blood, "I might do it, later – just to mortify them."

"Really?" he laughed, "How perfectly evil! May I watch?"

"Of course." She grinned. Yes, this was good; light friendly banter – no flirting whatsoever. She could do this.

"Ah…" Mr Count murmured, staring off into the distance, "I may have to watch you mortify the students some other time, my dear Miss McCauley. I'm afraid I have some pressing business that needs to be attended to."

"Oh, alright – will you be back later?" She asked, but he'd already gone. One day, one day, she would work out how on Earth he did that.