The future and the past

Drugs

*twisting, unfurling myself from the coiled position around the pillow, reaching blind out of the cocoon of sheets as I search for the hard, muscular warmth of the male that stole my heart...cold air meeting my fingers, the bed empty but for my daggers. A low growl of frustration building in my throat as I flop back in the tangle of sheets...my dream no longer a dream...but reality...he really wasn't here. With a sigh of defeat, I crawl from the sea of silk, tugging on my leathers and one of his shirts, a decision to finally do what I had been meaning to do since I last checked the calender motivating my movements. Making my way silently through the empty corridor up to the mansion, shooting Fritz a small smile as he passes me, slipping a paper bag holding a sausage sandwich into my hands and hurrying off to do whatever chores necessary. A low laugh, unwrapping the sandwich and biting down, boots quiet over the marble of the foyer creeping out the door and onto the drive. Polishing off the last bites of perfection, I take a deep breath...hating what I have to do...but unwilling to risk...one...him hating me...two...him freaking out...and three...my own eternal heartache...dematerializing, mask falling into place easily, slipping home as though it had never left, the side only V ever saw hidden behind the fierce aggression and wariness that I wore like a second skin. Havers clinic loomed like a nightmare...sterile, the smell drawing a retch from my throat as I push open the doors and strut inside, confidence I don't really feel dripping from every pore* I need to see Havers...now...*the nervous nurse scrabbling down the hallway in front of me, hastening to find the uptight doctor as I followed, jaw clenched in a painfully tight lock muscle ticking like an erratic clock in my jaw. I wait as she knocks, his voice makes me want to grind my teeth, bidding me come in, practically barging the door open with a quiet thanks to the nurse and smirking* hey ho Havers, what's doing? *his flinch is satisfying, his chair clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet, backing himself into the wall...stuttering about security* yeah...they wont touch me...not right now...you know why I'm here? *his gaze narrows, going to the filing cabinet, fingers expert as he flicks through the files...I'm surprised he even has one for me...given how much he'd rather have my death certificate in his hands...his gaze shrewd behind his glasses* <<you may have another three years yet Serhenity...you don't need it now...plus...don't you have a...male...who can  assist you through that time?>> *his haughty smile draws a loud growl from my throat and I take two long steps towards him* You have never hesitated to give it to me before, Doc! I actually think you give it to me because the thought of mini me's running around scares the shit out of you...would really fuck with the aristocratic line, huh? My line...resurrected with my fucked up genes? *laughs* awesome...give it  to me...now...I want it just in case of...everything...you know mine aren't exactly on a schedule...they waver and change, could be anytime...you really want to risk this, Havers? cause my blood is pure...perfect...and my young will go straight to the top... *grinning, his hands fumbling for the vials, the syringes, dumping a load into a bag and tossing them at me* <<Go...get out!! I hope to the Scribe Virgin you have to use those...Because your line will NEVER be welcome in the Glymera again...your young will NEVER be respected!!>> *raising a brow, the hurt a dull throb in the region of my heart* And you will NEVER find a female fucked up enough to deal with your misogynistic shit  *snarling a smile as I hold up the full bag, finger waving at him* Laters, Doc...see you in the next decade or so...or not...*sauntering out through the clinic to dematerialize back to the Compound...my chest tight...the heavy sedatives a familiar friend under my arm*

*Slinking back into the mansion, fingers crossed, hoping desperately none of the Brothers or females were around because all explanations I'd worked over in my head sounded petty and cruel and just plain stupid. But to me...I had to do this until I knew the score...until I knew whether I was strong enough to get through this, to let myself go through it instead of drugging myself until it passed like I had every time since my first time...unwilling to risk a repeat of the past...the loss that haunted my every cell and crept up to torment me at random moments, triggered by sight or sound or just the fucking word. But now it's not just my decision. And that pisses me off...a selfish thing, true but it has been my shit to deal with for so long...shaking my head, feet taking me to the empty Pit, the bag heavier with memories and a squirm of guilt. With slightly trembling hands, I stash the bag in the back of the closet, beneath the unopened packs of silk boxers that Fritz always bought but my male never wore...so he'd never look there, right? I don't know why I'm worrying but the dreams had been too close to the past to be of comfort to me, even though since my insides are as screwed as my outsides, it could be another three years 'til I had to really consider my options...the drugs...Or V...the sigh shimmering through my body, sitting cross legged in front of the closet, staring at the bulge beneath the stacks of silk, fangs chewing my lip with sharp, nervous points, thinking*

Meeting Demons

He's dead...Fuck...He's really dead...*the words uttered on a waking realisation, bolt upright, hair a mussed mess of dark curls, sleep rubbed away by the startling truth that has only just sunk in...I am an only child now...the last of my line...scrabbling for purchase on the silken sheets as I try unsuccessfully to clamber from the bed, sliding with a frustrated growl off the edge and landing in a heap on the floor, legs tangled in the slippy material. Kicking myself free from the cold embrace of the sheets and popping to my feet, jerking my leathers up, discarding one of V's shirts for a leather waistcoat corset and slamming my feet into my New Rocks. With practiced twists of my wrists, I semi tame my hip length hair into an elaborate braid, the ends tickling my ass as I beat feet up the silent corridor, skidding through the foyer and into the burning rays of the setting sun. With a hiss of pain, the searing red glow scorching the top layer of my skin* Fuck!!! *concentrating through the agony, my atoms splitting as I dematerialize to my warehouse, boots pounding over the dusty concrete floor as I push through empty crates to the chest of drawers in the far corner, ripping open the top one and rifling with frantic concentration through the mass of papers...addresses...hit lists...numbers...Coming up triumphant with a single sheet...two names...two addresses...a single tear blots the ink over one name...a female...but even through the smudge I would know that name anywhere...Crushing the paper into a ball in my fist, the sun finally hiding behind the horizon, my nerves shivering as I map the second address...dematerializing to the middle of nowhere and standing in a past dazed stupor, gazing up at the sprawling mansion that dominates the countryside...a gothic, monstrous building...the perfect blend of my childhood home and the mated home that had served as my dungeon...taking a deep breath for courage, Draven's scent a faint, lingering nightmare on the wind...he'd been here...before I'd killed him...he'd been here...My brother's playhouse is guarded, I can't materialize inside its walls...so I scale the gate like a ninja, landing in a crouch in the silent garden, ears pricked for any threats...nothing...no one...not an animal...not a doggen, just...ghosts of the past. I have never been here, but my past creeps into this morbid facsimile of my hell until I am overrun with memories, trying to drown me in the pain that never really abates...unless I'm with him...with him...the world disappears. Dragging the image of my warrior into my head, holding onto it like he's corporeal, with me, beside me...because if the layout is the same...swallowing, my feet moving in determined steps through the garden, the door unlocked, swinging open with well oiled silence, admitting me into the blood stained horror of my brothers mansion. I stumble back at the sight, so similar to how I left my mated home, the blood coating the walls in dry crimson drenches, the furniture stained...viscera squelching beneath my boots. I reach for my blades, even knowing that this was done weeks, months ago...maybe before Arhan came for me. Fitting my mental blinkers over my eyes, my mission specific, feet moving on instinct up the stairs, knowing the lay of the house like the back of my hand. The study. Right where it used to be. The heavy mahogany doors open at my gentle push, fingers splaying over the warm wood, peering around it to take in the organised chaos. Papers stacked high on my fathers old desk...filing cabinets, the letter opener my brother once used to draw me a new smile. My lip curls into a silent snarl as I move further into the room, dagger fisted in my hand, the desk my objective. Collapsing into the high backed chair and dragging a stack of papers over...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...Bingo!! The document wasn't far hidden in the pile...recently checked I guess, my name bold black on the front, crossed out in red ink and replaced with Arhan's name, the date of my mating beneath it. The deeds. The deeds to everything I owned. My belongings had been deeded by the male I despised to the brother I loathed...growling low, flicking through the rest of the documents. Even my mahmen's belongings were in here!! Some things in safety deposit boxes at the bank, others in storage units. My anger is palpable as I stuff the document under my arm, snatching up the keys to the boxes from the small, locked drawer and dropping them down the safety of my cleavage...no way would I lose them there!! Hastening with purposeful strides out of the house of hell, I take one last look and then ninja my way back over the gate, staring through the iron bars at the reflection of my past. With a nod, I gather my nerves and dematerialize to the first bank stated on the list, the neon face of my cell displaying the fact that I have four hours to sort this shit tonight, before the banks close...and damn it all...I really want to see what I left behind*

{ducking down the narrow alley, shitkickers slapping over the wet cobbles of the medieval street, this part of the Old Country virtually unchanged from the desperate times I spent as a post trans, living in the shadows, shunned by my race, a freak, feeding off weak humans. Tugging the cap down low to conceal the warning tattoos around my eye, palms patting over my Glocks and daggers, checking again over my shoulder, making damn sure I haven't been followed, then slipping down into the seedy underground bar, the appointed rendezvous for  Wrath's contact. Smelling of stale tobacco and cheap beer, the sawdust on the floor grating underfoot, some shitty Eurotrash metal band torturing the crappy speakers mounted on the walls either side of the bar. Sliding into a corner booth, sticking to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with the Goth waitress in the fang banger teeshirt when she saunters over with a walk that promises there's more on offer than just the bottle of cheap, knock off vodka on her tray. Disguising my accent, fangs concealed with a tight smile as I tell her to leave the bottle. Settling in to wait for my contact, predatorial gaze tracking the comings and goings of the customers, gloved fingers toying with the shot glass, thoughts inevitably turning to Tory, the separation a physical pain, a heavy aching lump in my chest}

*The bank is still open. Maybe bribery does work after all. That and the name I dropped. Stepping out of the shadows and heading for the entrance, my strides long, heavy, sauntering through the nerves that are itching their way over my skin, my hips swaying in a dangerous invitation. I learned long ago that males had two brains, and didn't often use the primary one when faced with an attractive female. My scars and ink would be disregarded under the temptation of the hip brushing swish of my midnight hair, the weapons unnoticed as their eyes were drawn to the leather encased curves of my ass, the flare of my hips, the high fullness of my breasts. With a smirk, I watch for the time old reaction. The security guards jaws hang loose as I strut through the foyer, their eyes roaming with blatent want over my body. I resist the urge to curl my lip and growl as they creep closer, tracking my movements to the desk, skin crawling under the lust pouring from their bodies. Stifling a gag of disgust, ashamed that I actually use my body to distract, and turning my full attention to the male at the desk. He's smart. His eyes flick down, wont meet the hypnotic pull of my gaze. I only have the key and I know damn well that neither my father, nor my brother, nor my ex hellren would ever have put my name on the list. I have no claim that this human knows of...which means tricks, deceit and...shudders...flirting will be needed. If he would just look me in the eyes...putting on my most innocent voice...the one not tainted by a century of torture, lighting the husky purr to a sugary sweetness that drew males like bears to honey, a cute Texan drawl creeping through* Well, hi there!!! I have a little problem I was wonderin' if y'all could help me with *unleashing the full wattage of my smile, resting my elbows on the desk, corset low, shifting my feet from side to side, keeping the guards attention on my ass* See...I have these little keys here...and I know they open something...but see my daddy died and forgot to tell me which boxes they open...and my poor mama is just crying to get some small part of my daddy back...*nodding, my eyes wide with innocent purity, trustworthy, honest as I wait for his eyes to lift to mine. If he does look at me, I can have his mind in a second and this charade can be dropped the minute he takes me through to the safety deposit boxes* There are...six I need...can you help me? *I do not pull off stupid and ditzy well...but the small, repeated plea works and his eyes shoot to mine with a willing smile...males...always willing to break out the I-am-he-man-I-can-help-poor-silly-female routine. My smile twitching as I reach out, grasping control of his thoughts and planting suggestions left, right and centre...covering all my bases, the performance necessary since I have no clue how to disable the security alarms and cameras* <<Of course, miss...may I see the keys?>> *handing over the jangling ring and waiting with an impatient tapping of my foot as he pretends to check the numbers against the register* <<your address, miss?>> *retching through my reply* <<and your name?>> *hating this part of the performance, my words hushed* Draven...*I hope it is enough since for the life of me I can't remember the million last names he adopted* <<and the password?>> *choking, leaning closer, burrowing deeper for control, whispering  something nonsensical as I force him past that question and watch him stand, motioning for me to follow. His silence is annoying and I bid him chatter about whatever, his inane stories sprouting up the minute I plant the suggestion. My eyes scan the entrance to the small room he stops in front of, fangs nibbling my lower lip, my nervous habit as he types in a code and the door buzzes open. He steps back with a courtly gesture and I flash him a genuine smile* why, thank you very kindly, sir...*heart pounding in the silence that follows as the door hisses to a close behind me, the keys clenched tight in my fist. I find myself wishing V is here with me, his strong arms my anchor, my protection against whatever memories lurk in the boxes, waiting to jump out and traumatise me all over again. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, hands trembling as I search out the first number on the keys...eyes alighting on the lock, key pushed in slow, turned, the click signalling the unlocking, the box sliding easily into my hands as I pull. My lids stay closed as I move to the small table and set it down, not looking as I start the search and repeat on the other five. Only when my ass is planted in the metal chair my elbows resting on the table, sure I wont fall over or faint, do I let my eyes open, the contents of the boxes bared to me in all their shimmering glory. Tears blur my vision as I take in the sparkling gems, the diamonds, sapphires, emerald necklaces that used to adorn my mahmens throat and ears...she was forever dripping in them...my fathers ploy to keep her quiet...two of the boxes held jewels, hers and the few pieces I had...simple, elegant...always emeralds to match my eyes. Reaching in with a trembling hand to cradle the mating present Draven had given to me before my transition. An interlocking coil of gold and diamond threads, looping in a choker about my throat, the heavy teardrop emerald nestling on a stream of diamonds in my cleavage. I shudder at the memory of the cold gold settling on my skin as he fastened it, his breath a rank heat on the back of my neck as he ripped the satin from my body...I'd dropped a glass at a party and embarrassed him in front of his friends...too new out of my transition...shaky...but forever after that the choker was a collar of his ownership...his aggression...he only ever made me wear it when he intended to punish me...as I turn it over in my hands, the glint of gold makes me double over, the dry heaves retching through my body...I hate gold...tiny flashes of crimson show in the links as I drop it back into the box. I want none of the jewellry...mahmen can have it. Pushing the two boxes to the side and dragging the other four over to me, their contents much more benign. Documents for my accounts, my real estate, my mahmens money...her real estate, love letters from early in my parents relationship...letters from Draven while he wooed me through my transition...the agreement between my father and him...sighing...so much shit...the deeds and agreements were so tightly wrapped up, each male giving our belongings to one of the other males on his death...a triumvirate of misogynistic, female oppressing bastards!! My growl turns to a laugh as I realise they never planned on them all dying...in which case...everything that was mine, was theirs...is now all for me...by law...since I am the last of my fucking line...and mated to boot...smirking at the sudden twist in fate. If I was still single then it would go to my uncle...but my warrior had given me more than just his love, had given me more than just a home...he'd given me the final 'FUCK YOU' to the males that had oppressed my mahmen and I for so many years...smiling now, my heart a little lighter as I pull out my cell and dial for Fritz, wanting a car to take all this stuff back to the Compound where I could sieve through it surrounded by the comforting scent of my male. The human is watching me through the window and I nod to him, the electric hum signalling the opening of the door* I have a car coming...can y'all help me with these? *waving my hand towards the boxes, hearing him shout for the guards, keeping his mind locked in mine so he doesn't ask any questions or make me sign any shit, following them as they carry the boxes into a waiting room, sitting down. Fritz said ten mins. As I wait I hit off a quick text to V, knowing the signal there is fucked but needing to say it* Thank you...I love you... *he's going to be so fucking confused...the thought makes me laugh loud imagining his face as he puzzles over my thanks* <<your car is here, miss...>> *he already has two boxes in his arms before I can stand, the guards drooling at me as they each take two more and head for the front. Fritz opens the doors with a gentle smile, my lips twitching up as I wink at him and slide onto the sweet leather seats, releasing the human's mind and adjusting certain memories as I wave and the car pulls out onto the road* <<where to...Tory?>> *grinning at him in the mirror, his efforts to stop calling me madam, mistress or my lady greatly appreciated, commanding in a mock imperial tone* Home, Fritz...*whispering, arms wrapped around myself* take me home...please...

*The doggen deposit the boxes with careful hands on the coffee table, after I realize I don't want the taint of those memories in the bedroom. Backing out of the room, they leave me with kind smiles, and my eyes turn warily back to the boxes. And to think...I still have the storage units to survive going through...huffing out a tired breath, debating on hunting...or just having a nice long shower to wash away the slimey residue of the guards stares, their lust, their desire, a creeping foil of disgust on my skin. It annoys the holy fuck out of me that males still make me feel this way...that I can't stand to be the object of their wants...that three males shattered the foundations of my self confidence...my fist hits the countertop...why does it even matter what they think? I don't care what they think... only one males opinion matters...but the stain remains...shower it is...the corset unfastens easily, falling to the floor in a crumple of embroidered leather, my pants following as I toe off my boots and skip towards the shower, reaching in to twist on the hot water, fingers playing under the spray as I wait for it to warm enough that I don't freeze my nipples off the minute I step in. The tiles heat beneath my feet and my body follows, ducking under the hot rush of water, the soothing, pounding pulses washing away the night and the tinge of fear, the scent of coagulated blood and viscera...the images of the mansion slowly running down the drain with the layer of filth from  the guards. Snatching up the washcloth, willing my iPod to blare from its dock, scrubbing in harsh circles with the soap down over my chest, the hard washing in time to the beat of MIMS 'Like This', my hips moving as I dance under the hum of water. I scrub harder as my hand moves lower, the strokes firmer but slower as I circle over my abs, the flare of my hips, the scar tissue a variety of thick and thin slivers of silver, stark beneath the ink as my body flushes with heat, both from the water and the flames coiling low in my body, memories of other showers flooding my mind, drawing low moans of pleasure as my head drops back against the tile, eyes closing. With a quick flick of my wrist, the washcloth continues its path in reverse, backing away from its destination and choosing instead to caress the swirls of ink on my arms...no matter the heat curling like steam through my core...I'm not going to...an image flares bright in my mind's eye...my knees buckling under the intense wave of arousal coursing the length of my body...a daydream, based on a very real occurence that shocks me...the washcloth falls with a wet slap to the tiles, my hand stroking down the twitching muscles of my stomach, thighs trembling as I try to stay standing, my thoughts consumed with the burning memory of V before he left...the hard frame of his body imprinted into the lust fuelled tremors of mine, re-enacting the responses...fuck!!...so hot...too much...needing him, I trail my fingers lower...walking them over the curve of my hip, up the inside of my thigh, fangs dimpling my lower lip as I give in to the hunger*

{laying on the bed, diamond eyes glowing in the darkness, gloved hand stroking down my abs, thoughts on Tory.. {Holding her  shirt to my face...drunk on her scent...gloved hand fisting my erection, head arching back into the pillow, lids closed, lips parted, fangs cutting into my lower lip, brain flooded with erotic memories of her and the last time I took her,  brutal and possessive...a low moan escaping my throat, abs rippling as my gloved hand slides down the length of my shaft,  knees flexing, neck muscles corded as my hips thrust up into the grip of my fist, my free hand running down the length of  my abs to stroke the skin at the base of my cock, gloved fist pumping a furious rhythm, sliding over the blunt head,  undulating up off the bed...Tory's scent the potent driver of my need, ribs pumping hard, a flush of sweat breaking out over my skin...so fucking close...a vivid image of her coming hard on the wet tiled floor of the shower imprinted into my brain} Fuck! Tory!! {shoulders and neck straining, pecs tightening, diamond eyes flipping open on a hoarse cry, my release nailing me to the mattress, spilling hot onto my abs, tasting my own blood as my fangs slice into my lip, growling out the words} I fucking love you...

*my legs falter, my knees taking a TO and sending me sliding down the wall to the floor, the dream feel of V buried so deep inside me mirrored by the fast glide of my fingers, the water hitting my lust sensitised skin, in my mind picturing his hands sculpting the soaking curves of my body, my spine arching under the assault of images, his phantom touches stoking the embers that are scorching through my core, turning it to a molten vice around my fingers, hips angling up, toes curled into the heated tiles, slipping, my purchase on the floor as weak as my grip on my sanity, the pressure in my core a swirling rage of passion and need...needing him with a visceral hunger so hot the water sizzles where it touches my skin, fingers spreading in twisting thrusts as I arch off the wet floor, my thumb working my clit hard...so close... his voice...suddenly so clear in my head...a growled rumble of words, echoed by a scream sure to startle the whole mansion, fangs drawing pinpricks of blood as I explode in pleasure on a gyrating, arched cry* V!! I love you so fucking much...

Fritz? *his voice is small over the phone, so polite and courteous as he waits for me to continue* I was wondering...will you come with me to the storage units? I have a feeling I will need the car again...or maybe a truck...*I don't mention the fact that I really don't want to be alone...the safety deposit boxes were bad enough...but these units...if they hold what I think they hold...I am not going to be in any shape to dematerialize home. He answers that of course, he will be honoured to accompany me...and he will arrange for someone to take whatever I want, wherever I want. My sigh of thanks as I hang up is loud in the quiet room, the blanket tucked tight around me. I don't remember falling asleep on the couch, or who covered me over, though I suspect the latter was the kindly doggen I actually had  a strange affection for. Heaving myself from my comfortable cocoon and dressing quickly, hearing the shutters rise for the night and slipping into a pair of workout pants and a black muscle shirt, too drowsy to be bothered dressing properly and padding barefoot out into the corridor leading to the main part of the Compound...the mansion I rarely went into except to leave. Something about the elegant design  and fancy furniture is too Glymera for my liking...too...aristocratic...go figure since it housed the last member of the fucking royal family. Rolling my eyes at my internal monologue, the fucking inane chatter in my head an instinctive defense against thinking too much about what I am going to do. Fritz is waiting for me by the door...and bless his heart he says nothing about the fact that I am barefoot and that my hair isn't in its usual braid, but loose and crazy, flowing in a riot of waves to the tops of my ass. I just can't be motivated enough to DO anything today. A heavy exhaustion weighing me down, my skin feeling too tight over my bones, too hot, too cold...fucked up and not caring. He opens the door silently, letting me slip out into the cool night, pulling open the door of the waiting car and sprawling across the leather seats with a huff. I don't know why I'm doing this. Why I continue to hurt myself. But as the car moves down the drive...I know it's because I need to settle the past...I need to accept that it happened...and that I survived*

*The car pulls up outside the storage facility and my stomach lurches with a nauseating dread, the chill air hitting my face as Fritz opens my door with a flourish, a heavy knit sweater slung over his arm. With a confused frown I take it, wondering how he knows that my previously hot flushes had turned to shivering breaks of cold sweats. Jerking the thick material gratefully over my head, the scent hits me in a rush of intoxicating male possession. My frown morphing into a bright smile* you stole his sweater? Bad Fritz *placing an impulsive kiss on his warm cheek, his beetroot blush heating my lips, wrapping my arms around my waist and heading for the reception keys dangling with a quiet jingle off my finger. Toes curling into the plush feel of the carpet as I step inside the office, the hum of blood in human veins the first thing I hear as the assistants head snaps up, his eyes fixing me with an appraising glare as I move further into the dimly lit room, my hands itching for my blades at the blatant challenge and disapproval, wanting to cut the smug smile from his chubby face and replace it with a scream of submission. The violent thought takes me by surprise, V's absence driving my defensive and offensive cylinders on full throttle. I pity the next person who pisses me off, like a bomb I feel ready to detonate and since the only available member of my bomb squad is in the Old County, my explosion will be fucking nuclear. Something in my face must have changed because the humans heart rate speeds up double time, his skin going a corpse gray, eyes bugging from their sockets. I have no idea what his deal is and I pull my usual lean and shift routine, his fear distracted by my...assets, my voice the silky sweetness of yesterday* I lost everything in the fire sir!!! Everything but my car and these clothes *tugging on my pants with a demure frown* and I have some things stored here *rattling the keys at him* help me...please? *The bat of my eyelashes seals the deal and he races to my rescue grabbing up his files and leading the way out to the small units in the surrounding yard. I give Fritz a reassuring wink as I follow dutifully, drawing on my wallflower days, grateful the sweater hides my ink and adds to my helpless look. Showtime*

*my wariness grows as he comes to the first door, takes my key and unlocks it, sliding it up without asking any questions. Maybe I do pull off pathetic well because he seems scared he'll make me cry if he asks me anything, tentatively stepping back, leaving me alone with a map of the yard, my units circled in red. I know without turning on the light that this is my stuff. My scent, the cloying smell of dried blood mingled with the sharp tinge of pure terror. Breathing through my mouth, I wander amongst the doggen packed boxes, flicking up corners to peek inside, my gorge rising as I move further into the cardboard labyrinth...that box. That one, I know in the churn of my gut, is going to hurt the most...is going to send me hurtling into the bloodied mess of my past. So what do I do? With shaky steps I lift the deadweight and set it on the dusty concrete floor, the lid gaping, ripped, maybe by mice, rats...my brother. I park my ass, the cold seeping with insidious fingers into my skin, burrowing with an itchy crawl beneath the surface. Why couldn't I open a box that didn't hold horror? Steeling myself for the mental assfuck and tearing the damp box open, heavy falls of satin and lace drowning my feet and legs . My dresses. The fucking petticoats and corsets, the body of the dresses, the crazy skirts that dragged me down. Lifting one to my eyes...long sleeves and high neck, covering every shred of skin. Why? Because Draven was smart. He wasn't about to show the Glymera the cheesegrated flesh of his mate now was he? Fuck no!! The multicoloured dresses are a tumble of butterfly patterns, designed so I stood out but was untouchable. A painting to be admired, a flower to be desired but never plucked by any other but its owner. I was a pet. A toy dressed up, posed, taught what to say and how to say it. Speak, sit, roll the fuck over and take it. Growling low, the darkness a rumble in the shadowed room. Never again. My hand brushes against something else, something not satin or lace...something soft and small. By the Scribe Virgin no!!! Give me blood, pain, the torture all over again. But not this. Once upon a time my hands hadn't held blades, they'd held paintbrushes, song sheets...needle and thread. Tears are a scalding sea of salty grief pouring down my face, my breath caught in the chokehold of trauma no female should ever know...that no male should ever know for that matter. The tiny dress is a perfect replica of my favourite blue one, created with the finest fabric, the most delicate of stitching, so much love embroidered into the minuscule gown that my heart is trying to tear itself from my chest with wrenching sobs. I'd started it the minute I knew she was female, the minute I'd felt the flutter of her life beneath my fingers. But the curse of having a mate who hated females. He found out she wasn't going to be a warrior and put my body through a hell so extreme in its violent sadism, I screamed for death. I begged him to stop, begged for her safety, and only got the horror of feeling her tiny glow of life bleed out through my fingers. The nausea could be held in no longer and I retch in harsh twists, my stomach corkscrewed by the sheer force of my mental agony. Weak, trembling, the temperature plummeting below freezing, my erratic breaths spirals of icy air, frozen crystals glistening in sympathetic pain over every surface...that is what broke me...that is what delivered Draven unto his death...what made me rip him limb from limb, flay the skin from his bones, tear the raspy, pansy ass voice from his throat, replacing his voice box with his cock and leaving him a sightless skinless, speechless and cockless shadow of his former self...I delivered a century of torture on his head in a matter of hours, tore a hole in the ceiling and left him to burn through his pain. The lessers...lets just say his friends got a varied version of their leaders punishment...Fuck!! My mind swirls with the images of the past, the black and red visceral mess of the mansion before I ran...the tiny dress in my hands flaring into a ball of icy fire...freezing my skin, burning my soul as it is eviscerated...the strong, gentle hand on my shoulder has me spinning in a startled attack of fists, just catching myself before I beat the doggen* Fritz...*my voice is a reedy thread of sound but he hears it, his breath frosting in the air, not in the least bit perturbed by the winter horrorland around him* <<mayhap my lady...Tory...we should return home...until you feel stronger>> *he is choosing his words carefully, feeling me teetering on the edge of the razor...that detonator about to implode my entire being* <<I can finish up here...if you wish>> *I nod because I know not what to do, managing a few instructions before my mind blanks and huddles with my soul like a frightened child, reaching for its soulmate, seeking across continents for the one male who can calm...can ease...can comfort...can piece me back together again* Give everything in this unit to charity...or sell it...just don't bring it anywhere near me again...the other units...I will leave to my mahmen *his hands beneath my arms are the only thing moving me, my legs offering no assistance, not even fighting his hold as he half drags me back to the car, the human rushing from his office to lend a hand, his fingers curling around my waist. My fangs drop in a snarl of undiluted rage, hissing, snapping at him like a tiger, fingers clawed. But the loyal doggen gives one tug on my now resisting body and I crumple under the pressure, gifting the human with his life, and allowing myself to be cared for...hating the dichotomy of overwhelming grief and unbearable weakness that ravages my body. Never...I swore never again to let anyone see me fall...never to reveal the bullseye on my heart...guess I failed not once...with V...but twice...now giving myself over to the aid of Fritz...I space...my mind a fog of blurry nothing as he bundles me into the car and gets me the hell out of Dodge...my body surrendering to the pull of unconciousness...of the peace the darkness brings*

{a sudden fist of pain wrenching in my chest forces me to pull over to the side of the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel, the rain hammering down on the windshield echoing the pounding of my heart between my ears, a coil of dread settles like a lead weight in my chest...instinctively knowing something is wrong, flipping open the cell, texting with frantic fingers} Need to know you're ok Tory...

*the fuzzy vibration on my chest stirs me from the trauma induced coma-like state, blurrily reading the blinking message as I fumble for the cell stuffed into my bra, replying, fresh tears drenching the screen* I'm fine nallum...don't worry...

Fuck!! {gritting out the curse, gloved fist pounding the wheel as the signal dies on the cell phone again...} Fuck Tory...

*coiled in a self embracing curve of pain, my tears coming faster, hating that I lied to you...but if you knew, you'd hurt too...and that I couldnt stand...your text...that is enough for now...the connection, that link across countries whispering hoarsely into the room, unsure how I got into bed* I'll be ok, warrior mine...just stay safe and come back to me

*The Penthouse balcony is high and the sparkling stars of the city below mirror the beauty of those glittering above my head. It figures that I would come here. It was my first real home and the compulsion to see it had woken me from a dead sleep. Strange how comfortable with people you can become after such a short time. I certainly never thought I'd wake up beside Telksy and not be bothered by her presence. A smile curves my lips. Sleepovers are rather fun...and the physical heat of someone else had kept the nightmares from my door. Not as good a teddy bear as V, but it worked. My toes curl over the top of the railings, walking the foot wide strip of metal with cat-like grace, balancing with a gymnastics flair, not a tremble as I crouch on the thin beam, the wind snatching at my hair, whipping me. Release. Forefront in my mind. The exhilarating freedom that comes with fighting or fucking can also be found in falling. And my body, my mind, are more than ready to give over to gravity, to surrender control to something far beyond my jurisdiction...to be completely blank, unconscious in thought but not body, the restraints of my conscious mind lifted for a brief moment. I am risking it. The idea came on a dream. A poignant reminder of a time suspended over these very railings, my body soaring on a different release as my heart trusted that he would catch me if...when...I fell...because falling was inevitable. With a slightly crazed laugh, I push off the balcony spiraling into a swan dive, freefalling in a curve of elegant laughter, the wind grabbing at my clothes, desperate to slow my descent but I am heavy enough and jumped from a great enough height that I am striving for terminal velocity as I knife through the air. The city lights rush to greet me, the sparkles blinding, closer, closer, rocketing past windows, balconies, a fucking cat...that mews at me in indignant surprise as I startle the bird it is stalking. My thoughts are ripped away with the wind, snatches of conversations like an out of control radio, the old ones, stuck in between frequencies, flashing between two worlds. Fuck...I'm a radio. Caught between the past and the future...letting one dictate the other until my present is just white noise, getting static from both. My body twirls, riding the currents as they caress my skin with a sharp chill. The floor reaching for me, its concrete embrace rising to catch me...um no thanks!!! With inches to spare, I dematerialize back up to the Penthouse, gasping, laughing, tears streaming down my face from the winds attack, setting myself back up to balance on the edge and repeating...the thrill close to the adrenaline rush of a fierce fight...as I fall again my happiness, my freedom, the beauty of the night is what holds me...what keeps me calm enough to demat before I make like a pancake...*

*My falling starts to startle the few humans wandering below, and my disappearing acts fucked with so many humans that I pull up short on my next dive and dematerialize to the second address...the one beneath the smudge of female name written on the scrunched paper in the back pocket of my leathers. This visit...this one I can handle. This one I am looking forward to because fuck if I don't want to flaunt my mahmen's new freedom all over my uncle's Glymera ass and dirty his pristine reputation with my presence. Force him to acknowledge the family ties. If my blood is spoiled, then so the fuck is his. My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my ribs, a child's anticipation of reuniting with the only maternal link to my past. But first...twisting my lips into a smirking grin, unfastening the fitted leather jacket and exposing the multiple blades slotted into the buckles of my corset, my leathers low on my hips, New Rocks knee length and laced with the sharp starred shuriken. My uncle is going to freak. And I am going to make sure everyone knows that I am no longer running. The party is in full swing when I reach the manor house, lights and laughter, the haughty conversations that sounded smart but really amounted to 'my cock is bigger than yours', everyone trying to prove their blue blood status with bullshit and peacocking. It all spills out through the open windows to taint the manicured lawns with lies. Fuck it but I am going to enjoy this. After all the years they hunted me, all the years they banished and hated and slandered my name... I am going to introduce them to the monster they created. By ignoring the signs, they sentenced me to a century of hell...and now I am going to play...not kill the fuckers but traumatise them enough they'll leave me alone. Why haven't I done this before? Maybe because I had nothing to fight for then...nothing to live for. And now? Well I don't want  to die. And I don't want to run...riding on the pent up frustration, I saunter with an arrogant swagger to the front door, knock with a commanding rap of my knuckles and wait. The doggen who answers makes like an Anime character, all wide eyes and open mouthed* hey Clara... *my mahmen's doggen squeaks in happiness, bowing low and tripping over herself letting me inside. My playmate, my nurse. She looks old. Whispering* don't announce me...find mahmen...tell her and only her that I am here...please...*more bowing, a curtsey before she scampers off to obey, sidestepping through the crowd of butterflies and hurrying up the tall flight of stairs. I wander around a Grecian column, stroking the fluted marble, eyes fixating on nothing and everything, putting names to faces, faces to personalities, targeting. There...his tall, slender form was both effeminate and somewhat threatening, his dark hair flecked with silver, his blue eyes shrewd as he raises his glass. Silence reigns as though all the sound has been ripped from the room, sucked into the vacuum that is the aristocratic social ladder...and in this moment...he's perched right at the top...his blood is Avatar blue in their eyes...the purest of the pure in the room...I pop my ass up on the window seat, swinging my legs as he spews verbal vomit over the trussed up fancies and whistling the lullaby my mahmen used to sing me...loud enough that the females closest to me shoot me annoyed glances and my uncle stops mid word, his eyes narrowing, the vein in his temple bulging angrily, his voice a booming admonishment* <<Theone!!! You are to be in your room!!! Get yourself back there before I have to take you myself!!>> *my legs swing faster, like a cat flicking its tail, my lip curling off my fangs, voice a low threat, the melodic darkness sounding my words* I am NOT Theone...Uncle...*pushing to my feet, standing on the velvet cushions so I am raised over the heads of the crowd, my prescence a now pulsing vibration of power through the room* Remember me...Uncle?

*his eyes bug from their sockets, his face shading a deep purple, veins throbbing in his neck, the repeated family connection setting his teeth to grinding. My laughter spills in a shadow, creeping through the room and chilling the hearts of those that knew me* Speechless?!! Oh poor Uncle...where oh where is your shellan? I bet she'd love to bask in your silence...your rotten tongue captive before me...*His adam's apple bobs, once...twice...finding his voice on a third hard swallow* <<You...You're...The Brothers...they...they killed you...>>

*I jerk my head back in surprise, not knowing whether to laugh or start packing my shit. Instead I smirk and run a hand down my bare stomach, stroking my hip and drawing the eyes of every male in the room...including my uncle* I think...I am VERY much alive, true? Never better in fact...*movement from the corner of my eye has a shuriken flying from my fingers towards the twitch, spearing a tuxedo'ed male to the wall* Did I give you permission to move?!! *his weeping grates on my nerves, the star embedded near his shoulder* Oh hush I didn't even fucking touch you! Or are you crying cause it fucked up your Armani? *shrugging, turning back to the spectacle that is my uncle trying to compose himself through the twitching, jerking nervous reactions of his muscles* The next person to move...I pin you next to your buddy...I'm here for him *pointing another star at my uncle* I have something you need to witness...*as if on cue the soft rustle of chiffon and satin whispers through the room, craning my neck as a ripple of movement parts the crowd, Clara leading the way. My breath hisses between my clenched teeth as the doggen bows before me and twirls to a graceful stop by my side. But I notice this, like I notice the twittering of the Glymera that starts up, my threat unheeded now I am preoccupied in facing...her...the word is a reverant hush* Mahmen

*By the Scribe Virgin...it's like looking in a mirror...an unmarred, unscarred, uninked, older mirror...she is me in every way but the imperfections that ruined my skin with their dangerous beauty had no hold on her...my midnight hair was streaked with mercury on her tiny form, my emerald eyes burned not with anger and fire in her face, but the gentle acceptance of her lot in life...my body was not toned with muscle, my limbs not strong and lithe where she was concerned but light and frail...too feminine...and my face had not the faint lines of smiles around her mouth, or the crinkle of laughter at her eyes...or the deep frowns on her brow...and her voice...*

<<Serhenity...my daughter...you have not gone unto the Fade?>> *her whispered tears are angelic, pure...holding none of the bitterness or pain...or violence that deepens the melody of my voice...that turns the angelic timbre to a demonic lyrical purr. She rushes through her skirts to clasp my hands to her face, her tears falling like hot diamonds on my skin, reflecting the pearls rolling down my face as I squeeze her hands, dropping down off the window seat with a thud of heavy leather boots* No...Mahmen...No Fade for me...Dhunhd, maybe since the SV and I aren't all that tight...*smiling a little as her face turns up to mine with a gasp at the near blasphemy of abbreviating our creator...slipping my hand slowly, gently from hers, aware of the intense stares on us, the Glymera wolves watching our every move with hummed titters, my uncle a silent statue on the raised podium, glaring* I have something for you, mahmen...*reaching into the corset with a small tremble of my hand, rustling the deeds and other documents pertaining to her, unfolding them as I pass them with as much ceremony as I can under the weight of such threatening and imperious glares, fingers twitching for the blades, my stars... anything. They make me feel weak...young and I hate it. But the discomfort is well worth it when a fire flickers in those emerald eyes, when her porcelain skin, MY porcelain skin...flushes with pleasure...with confidence...holding the paper key to her independance high in the air, whispering once to me* <<What should I say?>>*grinning as I mutter low in her ear and she yells, with royal decree*

<<FUCK YOU, Theodhan!!! This shit is mine, fuckwad!!>> *my laughter explodes from me in a loud crack, the shock on their faces akin to watching young eat lemon for the first time times a million. My mahmen looks just as shocked that she had the balls to do it...and damn if that courage doesn't look stunning on her...lighting her from the inside with the free light of the unoppressed. Brandishing the papers under my uncles nose and slapping her small hand against his puny chest* <<I. Am.At.The.Top. I am the oldest...and now the richest in our family. The council position is mine>> *brushing him away like a small bug, she tries to take the podium from his resisting form. The Glymera are still sucking on the lemon I forced down their throats and so when he raises his hand to backhand his sister, no one moves, but the metallic thwack and the scream of agony that reverberates around the shmancy room jolts them into action, fleeing through the double doors and those calm enough to dematerialize go with screams, leaving others swooning on the grass. My uncle cradles the ragged stump of his arm...cut off at the wrist, his hand is playing wall ornament, one of my stars pinning it into the plaster, the severing star embedded in the wall beneath it* Didn't anyone ever tell you not to smack your sister? Don't you EVER raise a hand to a female again...I will hear of it...and I will come for you. Brotherhood or no...I will take you down if you touch another female with a view to harm *my growl penetrates his screams and he quiets into whimpers, nodding. Turning to the delicate original of myself...I but a mere blemished replica of her beauty* Everything is yours. And the storage units too...do what you will...Mahmen...he has no hold over you...*an awkwardness settles into the silence...do I hug her...kiss her...wave? I turn to go, pivoting on my heel in the direction of the door, but her gentle hand captures my arm as sure as an army captures a country. I could not leave for the world* <<I have...a question>> *my gaze flicks to her face, contemplative, chewing her lip in a reflection of my nerves* <<Are you...have you got...my daughter...have you a mate?>>  *brow quirking up into my hairline, unsure how to answer...* Not in any official capacity, mahmen...but since when do I give a fuck about official? It's the heart that leads...and the soul that ties...no title, or ceremony...can dictate these matters...*her nod is satisfied...her next question pursing her lips* <<you don't have young?>> *her maternal eyes measuring the width of my hips, shaking her head and hurrying past the question that stills my heart* <<no...you have not tried again... you have centuries my daughter...worry not on it>> *taking my face in her smooth hands, bringing my now lowered gaze to hers, emerald clashing with emerald* <<I am proud to call you my daughter...I have kept tabs on you...prayed to the Sweet Scribe that you would come home...but I was told you were dead, that the Brother...>> *whispering now* <<a Brother had taken you...and they had meeted out justice for your crimes against your hellren>> * I bite my lip to stop the laughter... my hands going over hers on my face* Feel me...I am alive and I am loved...do not fear...I can handle the Brother that took me...*winking, placing a light kiss on her cheek, pulling back with a growl as my uncles cries start up again* you might want to get him to Havers...before he bleeds out and dies all over this pretty carpet...*scribbling my cell number down on her hand with a Sharpie and folding her fingers into a fist, kissing the back of her hand*   *Call...anytime...I will come...hopefully with less drama huh? *flashing my fangs in a sparkling smile as she ushers me out the door* <<yes yes go!!! I will deal with him...my daughter...>> *her smile is the sunshine blinding me as I dematerialize with a wave...my mahmen...I have my mahmen back...

*Eyes opening to the spinning room, rocking like the Pit was suddenly dumped in the ocean, the world turning on its axis as usual and abandoning me, forgetting to take me with it, letting me watch the rotations with a nauseating headache and a twinge in my stomach...my vision flickers, blurs and it is a relief against the churning room* Fuck!!! *I know what's doing. It's happened before...years of starving made the symptoms very clear. But this is more like withdrawal. Fucking biology. Get used to being fed, even if you're not hungry and the minute that stops your body freaks like it's going to die, panicking, yelling at you to do something. But I have gone far longer without feeding than a few days. Slowly stretching out with a groan, my hand makes small, firm circles over my clenched stomach, trying to soothe the tumult of pain, the queasy, sea sick feeling that accompanies the spinning world. Fuck... I'd gone near a year without feeding, though I REALLY don't recommend that. I was nothing but animal by the time I gave in. See the Scribe Virgin in all her majesty is kind of a bitch...to force us to feed from the opposite sex... I'm not too fond of males to begin with but having to take their blood into my body is...no...was...a major hang up. I despised it. Still the thought of feeding from anyone but V sets my brain to screaming...the red hot poker spearing behind my eyes a signal that I am thinking too much when all my body wants is to feed* shush...we don't need it... we're fine...we fed...we'll survive like we always do. You just got too used to being spoiled huh? Getting pure blood almost every day... *it's a trick that always works. Talking to my stomach. It calms me, allows my brain to switch off, my lids to get heavy. Sleeping off the blood craving...good plan and my eyes are already shutting out the headache and the nausea...my last thought...Fuck I miss you...*

*when the fierce wave of nausea washes over me again, dragging me from my healing sleep I shrug off the covers with a growl of frustrated  anger...so helpless to ease my own body through its withdrawal, hating the pathetic way I wish he was here just so I could function. Eminem got something right 'With you I'm in my fucking mind, without you I am out of it' and I am...I so am...my moods swing from one end of the crazy spectrum to the other...one second homicidal almost beyond control...the next so fucking miserable I make myself sick with hating the feminine need that has had so little freedom since I started running. I always suppressed the part of me that needed anyone else, knowing that relying on anyone but yourself was a sure way of getting yourself dead. But he is so deep under my skin, so much a part of my body, my heart, my soul that it is separation that is hurting me now. I bark out a laugh at the twist in fate, the slight irony of my situation as I tug on sweats and a muscle shirt, lace my feet into running shoes and jog down the corridor, heading not to the gym, but out...the garden surrounding the Compound I'd seen only a few times but it looked big enough to run laps, not wanting the cage of walls, another room oppressing the emotions swirling through me. My body protests each and every movement, harrassing me with its pleas for food, for sustenance...neither of which we need. A frown furrows my brow as a thought strikes me to a standstill, halting me one foot on the grass. Maybe...maybe my moods weren't just the result of separation anxiety...maybe this twitch in my gut wasnt just symptoms of withdrawal...maybe I miscalculated and for once it would be on time...which gave me not years but months to make a choice...and isn't that just a happy thought? My mind bugs in panic as I roll that over in my head, shaking myself from my statue impression and beating out a steady jog over the lawn, heading for the outer edges. Fuck...I had always hated the society seen deficiency of being female, the apparent need for emotion and connection and family that runs in the veins of every female, no matter how much she tries to eviscerate the sentimental bullshit that only ended up breaking her. I'd tried it...and it worked for a while. But then you fall...and there is no way to turn off the sprinkler of emotion that rains down on you. No way you can reset it...I have to adjust...accept, adapt or I am going to be Newton's Cradle...forever knocking myself from one extreme to the other, the shock wave of my imminent fuck up catastrophic for everyone around...So fucking temperamental...I have to stop comparing my life now to what I had or everything I have fought for will be negated when I destroy what I swore I would protect...My legs lengthen in smooth strokes, my mind settling into my decisions, the resolutions too determined, too strong under the force of my will that there is no alternative. There will be no compromise. I will not go back to what I was. Instead, I will grow...I will change...I will metamorphose into someone stronger and more compassionate because emotion can save as well as destroy...and refusal to adapt is what is wiping out civilisations, religions, entire species...I want to be around to fuck with our enemies a while longer so...My breathing is even, my stride long as I increase my pace, muscles relaxing into the familiar routine of co-ordination, stomach not so queasy, the sickness dissipating along with my worries and the steady run that has never let me down. My arms swing in loose countermovements, pushing my body forward, driving the speed, increasing rapidly with every step, running an escape as well as one hell of a necessity...not that I tend to run from danger...I'm more a 'risk the gunshot wound because it makes a fuck of a pretty scar' kind of girl...but I'm not stupid...if I'm outnumbered I do run, or if we're in a populated place...since civilians don't seem to share my appreciation of gunshot scars...The wind pulls my hair playfully, tickling me with the strands as it kisses my cheeks and arms with cold lips, stroking incorporeal fingers through my hair, sending it in a flaring cape behind me. This is another reason I run...the sensations. So soft, so different, so giving. Asking nothing in return for the kisses, the caresses, the harsh punishing bites over my skin when it is too cold...tears rip away from my cheeks, licked off by the breeze, realising I have no regrets...I don't regret leaving...I don't regret loving, I don't regret living or fighting, or killing...I don't regret how much time I spent with him when I should have been elsewhere...because he is the one...the only one I have ever really wanted...no regrets...and by the Scribe Virgin there is no accounting for taste...I can't help but think I have cheated him out of having a female who is more submissive, more intelligent...someone who doesn't freak out when he gets shot...someone who could help him...a doctor maybe...my heart clenches painfully as it tries to accept the image in my head of him with someone else...growling MINE into the wind, praying it carries the possession in my voice to the Old Country and slaps him around the head with it...a total riot in my head, nonsensical ramblings about life and love that should be on a quote page somewhere...as the main gate flashes past me for the tenth time I slow my steps...panting a little from the exertion and the sorting through of my mental shit closet, I turn in a slow pivot back towards the Pit, emotions sorted into categories, thoughts tame, calm, no worries but that there are four more days to go...Smiling, kicking off my shoes on entry to our room* mmm...I feel better now...*and boy do I...stomach is sleeping, red hot poker has been removed and I feel...as normal as a freak can get anyway*

*The now pretty much morning routine cold shower did nothing for the heat lancing my body and as I stroll casually along the empty streets of Caldwell, my blades twirl through my fingers, a lullaby humming from my lips, alert, antsy, itching for the fight I have been missing for so long...so long since I'd last hunted, too preoccupied with fighting my internal demons to give a fuck about the pale incarnations of evil stalking the streets. But I have a bad feeling...I woke on a good dream...hence the shower...but with the freezing spray came the heavy weight in my chest, the dark crawl of evil over my skin...something was going down...and I wanted in...but now maybe I miscalculated got the wrong night, the wrong time...the wrong fucking year...because fuck my life Caldwell was behaving...no brawls no domestics, the rapists are all at home watching Glee or some shit and the cops are at the Krispy Kreme kicking back because criminals are making like Martha Stewart and staying home to bake cookies. And my old friend the Omega is hiding in some dank hole biding his time and keeping his kiddies from playing with me...and that just fucking sucks. The metallic screech of my blade on concrete harasses the silence, boredom dragging the point along the wall, watching the sparks from the corner of my eye. Five hours...I have been out for near five hours and by some fucked up chance my iPod decided to die a half hour in, leaving me to amuse myself with a mash up of songs that spilled from my lips in a melody of random assortment. FYI...Bonnie Tyler and MC Hammer are not a good mix...Total eclipse of my...music hits me so hard, makes me say oh my Lord...yeah...not doing...but it provided entertainment for a homeless guy...shrugging, the annoyance of  having nothing to do and feeling basically helpless settling like week old bread in my gut, fizzing and swirling...all gross and green.  My heeled boots strut down the street, an impulse buy...I'd had my eye on them for years...thigh high, leather, buckles, sigh...I am female...I have a badass shoe fetish...all perfectly designed to hold my pointy playthings. Smirking at a cop as the squad car rolls to a sedate troll beside me, lengthening my stride, an aura of 'Back the Fuck Off, I'm out of your league!' sparking from every pore, resisting the urge to flash my fangs. I want trouble but getting locked up would prove pretty fatal once the sun came* <<Where are you headed, lady? We can give you a ride. Not safe this time of night for a young thing like you>> *that makes me laugh, his partners snigger firing my defences* I am older than I look...and I doubt you can protect me from anything really determined to kill me *I can feel the agitated twitch in my jaw, the heat behind my eyes flaring brighter* <<What? You think we got vampires and werewolves out stalking the streets? *he laughs*  I'll stake the fuckers and shoot the furry beast with a silver bullet straight in its head...you'll be safe with us>> *nodding, hand discreetly buttoning my jacket over my arsenal, no silver bullets but more than enough ammo to take down a herd of elephants*  You know almost anything will die if you stake it in the heart or shoot it in the head...and if it doesn't...you better fucking run...

*mock saluting the young cops and turning down an alley at the back of one of the clubs...the name of no importance to me...a human club... having heard the faint scuffle of boots over the chatter of the police radio and the drone of their concern, silent, a shadow, blending into the night with only the twin flares of green fire visible as I sink deep into the dark's embrace, welcoming it like a long lost lover, trusting it to conceal me as it has done so many times before. As I round the corner into a small courtyard, built for the residents that live atop the line of clubs and shops, I stop short, jerking back into the alley with a roll of my eyes, whispering to the starry sky* For real? Do you HATE me? *my answer is a winking twinkle from the pinpricks of light watching and I growl* Fuckety fuck fuck fuck

Sometimes I don't know why I do this shit....*Huffing out a feigned exhausted sigh, stepping into the illuminated yard, both SIGs drawn and held behind my back, fingers stroking the triggers. Had to swap the Glocks for my smooth babies...I had to get me a Baby Eagle when I found the time....Shaking my head, letting out a short, sharp whistle, my lips pursed in contemplation as I look over the scene. Only two lessers...boring...but what they are pounding into mince meat holds my attention. Their fists stop at my whistle, like trained dogs, heads cocking as they turn to face me. I am a little ashamed and weirded out that I am not more scared. Not a lick of fear down my spine nor any sympathy as I assess the whimpering piles of meat on the floor. It's like being the Terminator...but sexier...a total switch off of everything but deadly focus and that sadistic part that rises up whenever I fight...making me enjoy it* Well hello handsome...you and your friend auditioning for America's Next Male Model? *they smirk at me, wide gashes of thin lips in their milk bottle white faces, moving in unison towards me* hey hey...I said you were handsome...this don't mean we're dating...*letting myself back up, concentration split between evil Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee and one writhing, one painfully still, silent heap of bones and flesh in the corner. My fingers twitch on the triggers as their scent pervades my every sense, wrapping me in the cloying sweetness, smothering me, gag reflex acting up like someone is trying to shove a baseball bat down my throat...wretching around the tangible fist of sickly evil jamming down into my soul. But my smile hides the tumult of queasy running through me, a welcome...they take the bait* <<What's a weak, vulnerable female like you doing down this dark lonesome alley? There's all sorts of bad down here>> *yeah...way to get the girl Draco...call her weak...Snorting a laugh, dropping into a subtle battle stance, the repositioning of their legs, the widening of their stances indicating a duel lunge... cause yeah...tackling a girl was a way to get laid...not that they could* mmm...are you some of the bad ones? you sure look...naughty...

*when the blade arches towards my face from the left and the right dives for my legs, I snap my boot into his throat, the bubbles rising as the impact crushes his windpipe. Guess they got tired of talking...pity for them...the slice of the switchblade burns a hot trail of pain along my jaw, curving down my throat as I twist, ducking and slamming the butt of a gun into his nose, Gurgly going for my knees with his ham sized fists. Fuckers are strong and like pitbulls...they get you on the floor you're pretty much a goner. I ram the toe of my boot into his eye, hopping like a demented bunny over his form and avoiding the next slash of his buddy's blade. Laughing, my fangs elongated from the thrill, the adrenaline, my body alive as I aim both barrells at the now upright lessers, Slashy and Gurgly looking  mighty angry, souless eyes flaming with the black depths of Dhunhd...but I'm having too much fun* Say hello to my little friends! *cheesy and way overused but hilariously effective as they shock out...like holy fuck, female got guns...And like Scarface, my own face dripping hot crimson onto my jacket, mingling with the black noseblood and frothy black throat blood of the Grime twins, I open fire alternating between my babies, emptying the clips into their heads, their hearts, riddling them with holes even as they walk through the barrage of bullets, living colanders, skull and brain spewing over the courtyard in a rain of black goo, so many holes I can see the wall through them. Gurgly falls first, choking up black foam as he topples, his head half gone, knocking into Slashy's legs and taking him down, a macabre game of dominoes that leaves them immobile...dead for all sense and purpose but I never trusted the fuckers not to get up again. Reloading and emptying another clip into both their heads, going Resident Evil on their asses before flipping them, unleashing my kleptomania and rifling through the clothes, stashing ID, phones, cash, the assorted weapons into my multiple pockets and driving my blade home into the chest cavities that would have held their rotting hearts* Have fun with daddy...*the only eulogy they would get as I turn to face their victims, shreds of D&G lying by my feet, red with their blood. Crouching down, fingers poking gently through the mulch of a face, the open shots of bone, eye socket, one eyeball completely mushed into the hole* I told you didn't I? I told you that they wouldn't treat you any different once you gave them what they wanted. How many females was it this time Morton? How much did they give you to betray your race?!! cause you know what? You're going to be spending all that money on plastic surgery to make your mug pretty again...if you survive that is...* he will survive...unfortunately...his buddy however...debatable...his breathing is shallow, reedy, weak, his heartbeat almost nonexistent* Morton...can you walk? *I lean down and heft his dead weight up, ignoring his scream of agony, assessing the damage in his legs, not broken, fractured...I'd interrupted his beating apparently* you can walk, call our ambulance, man...fuck if you can demat there...*and fuck if I am calling the Brothers...they can't do anything now. I lift the mess of civilian into my arms, supporting Morton too as he leans against me, my cell pressed to his ear, his voice a haughty painfilled screech as a nurse answers, all tinny voice and concern, the private ambulance dispatched immediately to our location.* What's his name? *looking down at the pulverised male in my arms, his weight straining my muscles slightly...he clearly ate way too much...* <<Alhex>> *Shit... Morton's voice was getting quieter...and as much as I'd wanted to kill him ever since I found out about his involvement, if he dies on my watch...people are going to think I'd worked the both of them over...My eyes narrow at the squealing of sirens and tires and I drag  both civilians to the end of the alley...the vamps give me strange looks as they hop from the back of the vehicle, easing Alhex from my arms* <<You shouldnt have moved him, miss>> *his admonishment makes my growl rip from my throat* No I should have fucking left them both back in that yard where even more lessers could pound them into hamburgers!! *the male steps back and I smirk, shrugging off Morton into the arms of another paramedic and starting back into the courtyard so I can demat to fetch the jars...my anger double than when I first started...Now I know how the Brothers feel...unappreciated...but at least they are feared...I am treated like a child no matter what I kill...frustration bursting from me in a roar, a hurricane whipping through the yard, scattering up leaves and debris before whistling to a stop as I dematerialize to take care of the jars...the one thing I can do without pissing someone off...*

*with the jars stashed safely at the train station in my locker, the startled looks blanked by the pain ripping along my jaw, I press the paper towel to my face and hurry from the sparsely crowded station out into the night air, the breeze a cool balm on the knife wound wondering if it will scar or just heal...don't want to look like some villain from Batman...I take a deep breath, calming through the ache and dematerialize back to the Compound, not looking forward to stitching myself up...probably end up loosing a fucking eye, traipsing through the front door and into the high domed foyer, careful not to splash blood on the marble, walking headlong into Telksy *