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I would imagine most readers of "The Vampire Chronicles" would consider me the luckiest of women - to both love and be loved in return by Marius and Armand. And yet those of you familiar with the ways of the Immortals realize what a mixed blessing this has been and continues to be. The love of an extraordinary artist, philosopher, and intellect. And the love of a complicated, passionate and solitary man-child. And finally, to be claimed by neither one. To forever be on the outside looking in.

There is one thing I must have understood. Many have called me whore. I was, and continue to be, no man's whore. I was by trade a courtesan. A courtesan is a mistress - once claimed by a man she remains his companion. She is sought for her beauty, intellect, charm, conversation... and yes, her skill in the arts of love.

In my mortal life I was also a murderess. My life was forfeit to my kinsmen in Florence, Italy, during the Renaissance. My home was a salon, attracting the artists and thinkers of the time. It was there I came to know Marius, and through him my Amadeo - Armand. It was also there that I dispatched the enemies of my kinsmen through poisoning them. And it is to Marius that I owe a debt of gratitude for freeing me from that life.

Those of you who have read the books know that Marius was severely burned by the fire that destroyed his home and life - a fire set by his enemy Santino. And you also know that Marius brought me into immortality. The question has always haunted me - was it out of love for me, or was I a replacement for Pandora and a means for survival? And while the question still nags at some tiny corner of my mind, I find that it has dulled with time. It has ceased to be as important as it once was. The future stretches open to me...