nana

"What do you mean he wants me with Hellboy? I don't go out on those missions," you question the agent, moving him to finally look at you, but only in annoyance at the fact that he has to speak any further on the memo he was given. The agent just shrugs and repeats what he says like it was final before leaving you to figure the rest out. The hall bustled around you with other agents in dark attire and scientists carting around paranormal species in slumber. You pitied them in this state, limp and unknowing, having no clue the only reason they were strapped to metal tables for experimentation was because they were not human. You snap out of your thoughts and head to the boardroom where you hoped to find the director. Lo and behold, Tom Manning stood at the front of the room with an exasperated look on his face as he spoke with someone. He catches you watching him and motions you inside.

"Agent! Get in, get in," Manning hisses at you until you shuffle in more awkwardly than you would like, gluing yourself to the wall while Manning shuts the door. Sure, you were an agent of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, and you could be directed to go on ground missions as you did receive tactical training like anybody else, but you were simply used to the paperwork end of things to the point of comfort. Manning then motions you to close in with the other two agents in the room around him. You peel yourself off the wall and do as he asks.

"You all must be wondering what caused this impromptu meeting between the director and some employees who hardly ever talk to me, well," Manning ducks his head down as he continues, "I want you three to be all eyes and ears for me, you hear me?" he now whispers frantically, "I don't trust Red OR Blue to stick to protocol anymore, they undermine me, they don't listen, they—" Manning restrains himself from going on his age old rant and pops a Tums in his mouth with a hand on his chest.

"Just report to me anything…that would seem against my judgement on this channel," for the rest of the secretive meeting, Manning demonstrates the radio channel to dial him on and gives a lengthy list of all of the things he deems not BPRD protocol. You glance at the other two agents frequently, expecting them to want to refuse Manning at some point. They were young, fresh-faced, and determined to please. You almost scoff at them, but then Manning finally dismisses the group and you quickly jump on the opportunity to weasel yourself out of this ordeal.

"Director Manning! Yeah, hi, so I'm guessing since you put me on this mission you have read my entire file," you begin, "I don't go out for these big things, with um, Hellboy and Abe. I've been on shorter jobs, like lower threat level missions..?" Manning looks at you like he didn't understand the issue you had with him pulling you out of the air to spy on his own special agents; you twist your hands together as he just chews his Tums with that confused look on his face.

"Yeah well, I'm not asking you to stand in the middle of a shootout; I just need you to lay low and um, watch Hellboy." You gape at him, and he takes the silence as an answer, slapping your shoulder with one hand and fleeing from the boardroom straight after. Hours earlier a special agent, who was more like a German ghost in an old diving suit, arrived at HQ to lead the supernaturals on their next mission to investigate some evil elf prince—Nuada— who was hellbent on annihilating humanity, and now you were being told you had to join that same mission. Shit.

***

"Just watch this perimeter for me okay?" Liz points to a street corner where she posted a couple of cameras, Manning meanwhile winks at you knowingly from the back of the Bureau van. You turn away to roll your eyes. Little did he know you intended on doing nothing about Hellboy. Liz had eased your anxiety over the ride to the bridge too after you aired out your grievances to her; never, and you meant never, have you had to join the special agents anywhere in your seven years at the Bureau. You spent the entire ride in the van glancing at Abe and Hellboy cautiously, then nearly burning up in embarrassment when Hellboy finally caught you rather irked. Those other two agents who were in the meeting with Manning held their chins up haughtily the entire ride.

They would shit their pants if they knew the shit BPRD had to deal with before sticking it in the lab. Hellboy, Abe, and Krauss now cross the street with gadgets you've never seen before strapped onto their heads, this Bureau got weirder everyday and you wondered why you stuck around so long. You pace around in small circles in your corner. You realize that you could clearly see the special agents from where you stood, but chose to keep the private channel on your radio off. You were no spy.

"Hanging in there?" Liz's voice comes from behind you and you spin towards her, trying not to look so much like some surprised puppy.

"Yeah, just keepin' my eye on things," you rock back and forth on your heels. Liz didn't make you feel awkward or inferior, so you manage to converse with her lightly; being two of the very small percent of women working in the BPRD helped too. Time flies with her, and the night seems almost pleasant. What were you worried about again?

"What was that?" one of the fresh faces asks as he crosses the street towards you and Liz.

"What was what?" she replies; then it happens. The ground rumbles violently, an earthquake in Brooklyn? You spin towards the last place you saw Hellboy and your eyes double in size as the concrete splits open into several deep crags. A large green stalk sprouts out from the earth causing chaos to erupt up and down the street. Pedestrians start shrieking left and right, cars honk at each other, then stop one after the other as drivers jump out of their cars entirely to make a run for it. You click into action and motion at the civilians to head towards the undisturbed streets. But more people keep appearing out of nowhere and you fall in with the panic in the air to the point of being caught in surprise at the monstrous plant out on the street. It towers over the buildings and its strange roar felt like drums beating in your head. You finally focus on a large red man jumping from car to car—Hellboy—and scaling the side of a building. The swarm of people were watching the scene too rather than fleeing, much to your annoyance, and both Krauss and Manning were shouting incoherently at Hellboy. You do all you can and yell at people to get further back, but a part of you wanted to watch the action too. You whip your head around to see Hellboy on top of a sign letter with a large gun in hand and a baby wrapped in his tail. You nearly smack your palm on your own face, talk about decreasing casualties.

"SHOOT IT!" Krauss shrieks from beside you. You glance at him and back to Hellboy and the plant monster. A small part of you hoped it would decide to turn away and submerge itself into the ocean or perhaps take a hike to the upstate. It shouldn't have to die. Someone else catches your eye too, a pale, glowing man on the rooftop speaking to Hellboy. The world seems to pause around you, people's voices and Manning's whining going into slow motion as you set your gaze upon the pale man. This must be the target. You felt ridiculous for thinking how attractive he was even from afar. Before you knew it, Hellboy blew a hole into the monster's head and the elf disappeared. The monster shrieks in agony, more in fear rather than anger, and stumbles backwards until it crashes into one building's side. You immediately focus back on the situation and urge the crowd of civilians to leave, but they would not listen. The aftermath was silence, then people kicked back up in a frenzy and threw slanderous words at Hellboy; blaming him for everything as if he weren't the one to eliminate the threat. You give up and choose to stare at the pavement as it was being carpeted rapidly by lush grass and delicate flowers from the monster's green blood.

***

Your body hurt like hell. You drag your feet beneath you while you direct some BPRD men to clean up the debris of the night's events. Dawn was hours away, but the deep blue sky slowly blended into a lighter purple. Hellboy and the other supernaturals had left a while ago, along with Manning and his trained dogs. You on the other hand decided to stay on the ground to actually make a tangible difference. The whole street was in shambles, the pavement was blasted throughout and several buildings were caved in on, not to mention all of the flattened vehicles standing silently too. All of the stander-bys had their information collected and were told they would be compensated at some point. You sit on the curb and glare at two scientists in white suits scraping up the greenery that spilled out of the monster after it died. Another two were jabbing the monster's decaying body with more tools; scraping, pulling, sampling anything they could take.

"Are you proud of this?" a silver voice hisses at you and you look over your shoulder slowly, too tired to think twice, but then jump up off the curb when you spot the elf standing in the alley. Were you really that tired or was the literal point of this entire mission standing several feet away from you? You begin to tremble and shake your head no.

"I thought not, you people are poison, you know that? Poison," he sneers at you while you nod in agreement. What else were you going to do? He reaches his hand behind him and you finally bristle in alarm. You pull out your rubber baton as he unsheathes a blade. Was he really going to fight you now? There isn't a moment to think as he lunges at you, you dodge by nearly hurtling yourself into the stone wall. He grins like some wild hyena then lunges again, weapon ready to cut you down. You dodge him again and this time smack the blade away from you as it nearly slices into your arm. It was like a dance meant to tire you out, and it did, after the sixth round of dodging and blocking, you trip over trash bags on the floor into the alleyway. Your throat felt so constricted from hyper-vigilance that it only made you more voiceless, unable to call for help. The elf's eyes bear down into you like prey stalking his kill, but before he slices you open, you smash the blade to the floor with your baton one last time. The spear suddenly springs open from the force and the blade shoots into your right thigh. You gape at your leg in shock before shrieking at the pain sparking throughout your entire body. The blood pools around you quickly, it hit the major artery, making your head feel faint and sight turn blurry. Nuada nudges your leg with his foot, causing you to whimper in pain and lash towards him with your baton. He smacks the baton out of your hand and squats beside you. 

“Tch-tch, nobody’s here to help the little officer anymore,” Nuada grins wickedly over your now slumping body. Through groggy eyes you watch him seeming to wonder what to do with you, to let you die here in the street or…something else? As your senses begin to slip away, the last thing you recall is him picking you up with one arm under your legs and the other holding your back.

***

A dream—a nightmare—of the events that had just passed make you jolt wide awake into a wince. You try to look at your leg, which still throbbed in pain, but you were strapped to a metal table. Your head is fixed facing the ceiling, which was made of rough stone; the only light source was a dim and flickering one placed around you. It was as if you were in some kind of ancient dungeon or cave. You try to wriggle around but the straps on your forehead, chest, and limbs were very taut.

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck—

"Awake are we?" the elf's voice makes your panic stop and ramp back up again as he comes into eyesight. He looks down at you and you can finally see him clearly all at once. His eyes were large and yellow like that of a hawk's, his skin was etched with lines similar to tree bark, his complexion was pale, and hair paler. You naively wonder how someone so enchanting could be so evil, but the thought is snatched right out of you the moment Nuada presses his palm on your wounded leg. You cry out and cringe at the sensation, hot tears stream down your temples and into your hair. Nuada keeps pressing into your leg with his eyes fixed on yours. You reach the point of howling wildly, eyes rolling around in every direction. He finally pulls away and you let out several trembling breaths. Your thigh muscles spasm from the pain and only cause more pain to jolt down to your knee. He leaves your bedside, walking over to one end of the room until you hear him push a metal cart towards you, its' wheels scraping the stone floor. He begins picking up various items, inspecting one before placing it back down and moving on to the next.

"Please let me go…" you beg meekly. Nuada slams the scalpel in his hand down onto the metal tray and rushes over to your side, peering at you intently. The face you once thought beautiful now turned very eerie and haunting.

"What was that?" he asks almost excitedly.

"I said let me go please," you begin to blubber, "I didn't even do anything! I wasn't even supposed to be on this mission, I didn't even wanna be here, I—" you cry like an idiot to the elf and he simply smiles down at you without remorse.

"Of course that's all true, I'm sure, but anyone can just say that can't they? They didn't want to be here, they didn't mean for things to go this way, but they still participate in it don't they?" he begins in a mocking tone and ends with a menacing one, fury taking over him the more he thought about humans destroying his world. You stop your crying with a gulp and stare at Nuada now. There was not an inkling of mercy in him, so you begin to accept your fate in silence and shut your eyes.

"Uh-uh-uh, open your eyes for me," he sticks a finger inside your wound and you immediately yell at him to stop. He digs around in your open flesh, causing your wailing to stop and start sporadically. The pain makes you feel sick. Bouts of nausea and dizziness wave over you and you ball your hands into fists to the point of your palms stinging from your nails digging into the skin. He finally stops and you breathe out in deep gasps. You were beginning to sweat; you felt your hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You needed to just die at this point, the pain was unbearable and the room seemed sealed shut from the whole world.

"Now let's take a look…" Nuada walks over to the other side of the table you were strapped onto and turns a crank. You feel yourself tilting forward and finally see the room you're in now. It was in fact some sort of cave, but full of technology foreign to you. A row of tanks with floating specimen, plants of unusually dark shades of blue and purple, and other biomedical machines. With great difficulty you peer down at your leg and wince at the blood pouring out now that you're angled more upright. What made you even more prepared to die then was the trolley right beside you. It was stacked with various knives, saws, pliers, scissors, tubes, and other unpleasant things. Things you recalled being used back in BPRD on the paranormals. It seemed that you were paying humanity's karma alone. You almost begin to relax from the momentary release from torture, but the elf comes back into your peripheral view and your heart beats wildly. He taps on the metal table before him, drumming his fingers on it repeatedly to make the objects rattle. He then finally grabs needle and thread and returns to your side. Nuada slides a finger over your wound, making you hiss through your teeth; then, to your surprise, he begins to mend your leg, without painkillers of course. You groan as the needle slides through your skin, Nuada slowly criss-crosses the thread over the giant gash in your outer thigh. He uses his other hand to press the sides of the gash together as he goes further down, ignoring all of your winces and gasps. Nuada's breath grows ragged while he stares into his handiwork. He reaches down a couple of times to adjust his pants, accompanying the motion with a soft sound from his throat. The stitching stretches on for an eternity in your mind and you reach the point of fainting from the searing pain.

"Shh, it's over now, shh," Nuada seems to soothe himself more than you as you finally pant out in relief from the sharp torture ending. All that was left was a throbbing in your leg and dizziness in your head. Through your growing fatigue you keep a weary eye on Nuada's back. For a moment you think you see him suck your blood off of his fingers. You grimace as he lets out a soft groan from tasting the blood. Silence falls over the two of you and you wonder if you would just die anyway from the loss of blood. You blink in and out of consciousness and lose track of Nuada's movements in the room. He hooks something into your elbow crease and another into your thigh, and later rummages through your stuff he had stripped off of you and put in a bag at the far end of the room. The white gauzey cloth you were wrapped in was stained with sweat down the chest and stomach, the gross sensation now entering your awareness after the pain in your leg becomes more dull. At some point you finally fall asleep.

***

You wake up, regrettably, in a new room. It was well lit due to a wall of arched windows facing a hallway full of torches. Your mind was still fresh from the sickening procedure conducted in the cave and so you sat, to your surprise, upright in a low narrow bed. You yank the thin sheet off of you and inspect your thigh to suddenly gasp at what you find. It was a miracle. The once festering, dark gash in your thigh was nothing but a long, pink scar. You carefully poke and prod your own leg, bracing for any pain, and sigh when you feel nothing at all. You almost become too relieved and begin to swing your legs over to the side of the bed, but find your ankles chained to the ground.

"Do you see what I am holding?" Nuada's voice echoes into the room and you look around frantically to find him perched on the window sill. He was holding a slim vial of dark red liquid. Your blood. The color on your face drains and you simply stare at him.

"I am going to wash the earth with this," Nuada jumps into the room and shakes the vial in your face, "yours and all of mankinds. I will purify the land for the old ones." He awaits your reaction with a twisted gleefulness.

"Why haven't you killed me..?" you ask weakly, pulling the thin blanket right back over your legs. He breaks his stare away from the bottle of blood and narrows his yellow eyes at you like you were stupid.

"You are my hostage, do you understand? Those mortals have someone I want, so I will keep one of their own," you were going to live. A rushing sense of relief begins to calm you down and you slump into the bed which you now accepted as your prison cell. At least it was a bright and warm one.

"What do you want from the Bureau?" you ask him, nearly biting your tongue as his intense gaze continues to insult you in its own way. You had to know though, and you assumed the worst of it was over.

Black-and-white posters of previous shows hang on every side of the entrance room, seemingly to hide the tattered stone walls beneath; tobacco, incense, mixed colognes, and drunken laughter fills the atmosphere as you venture further inside. You pass by a young man whispering something to his date, a giggling woman, by the theatre doors, and almost blush at catching some of it. You find your seat, only four rows from the stage, and smile to yourself; the chaos was inviting nonetheless. Out of habit for any sort of waiting period, you pop out a slim floral case from your silver beaded purse and light a thin cigarette from it. A few men, who have already become increasingly drunk, throw vulgar insults at each other at the back seats, an eccentric group in white face paint and over done clown makeup giggle amongst each other in the front row, and a few quieter elderly couples sit in your direct vicinity. After several more minutes, the seats finally fill up and the small orchestra erupts into lively music. The painted faces in the front row howl and the rest of the room claps as a smartly-dressed man enters the stage from the left. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the spotlight floods onto him. He was probably twice your age but entirely too seductive even from where you sat. His hair is short, and ice-blond, styled with mousse, his thin lips were sparsely shaded pink, and his bright green eyes were rimmed with kohl.

“Welcome, to the displacement of reason and excretion of pathetic desires,” he begins melodramatically. Your stomach jumps while his eyes set upon you before flickering across the rest of the crowd and landing onto the fans directly before him. He proceeds to speak in a deep and sonorous voice about the debauchery of this theatre all while a rope lifts him above the crowd and back. The audience cheers the more wicked his words become. As he finally reaches the stage and plants his feet on the ground, his face suddenly twists from salacious delight to solemn rigidity.

“Everything you are about to see…is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight, you are complicit,” though your brain told you that this was simply a part of the act, your heart leapt at the look in his eyes as if you truly believed him.

“…and I welcome you! Even as you disgust me!”

The first act was a dark comedy; you quickly forgot the fear that the head actor Santiago instilled in you as you laughed along. Before you know it, the actors scurry off stage, the backdrop changing for the second act to begin. A lumberjack appears on stage cutting wood for a while before Santiago, dressed in black with a scythe slung over his shoulder, floats back and forth calling to the woodcutter. Suddenly, a shriek emits from the side stage and a disheveled woman with her hands bound together runs out to the center. She immediately shrieks at the sight of Santiago and turns to the audience pleadingly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her, her face was stained with her makeup and her clothes nearly fell off her shoulders, but the audience continued to laugh as Santiago begins to toy with the woman with his cunning words. She breaks down into tears and says something in her native tongue, unknown to everyone there. You couldn’t understand her, but her eyes carried such fear in them that you believed her regardless. The way Santiago circled her only made you more uncomfortable by the second.

“If we were to let you go, we’d have to replace you.”

“Have you made up your mind?”

You jump and swivel your body around when a second voice speaks at the same exact time as Santiago. Nobody around you pays you any mind though, and you face the stage in puzzlement.

Huh, great, I'm hearing things, weird, you think to yourself. Santiago’s eyes then trail up above all of the audience and you follow, spotting a dark-skinned man looking below from the gallery seats. You begin to tilt your head but then suddenly hear it again.

“Calm down my child.”

“Have you forgotten your place? That I am the leader of this coven?”

Though the voices seem to speak simultaneously, this time the second one did not sound like Santiago. You furrow your brows in utter confusion and look around the people seated nearest to you again.

What is happening?

“Who was that?”

“Death awaits everyone, everywhere. So why not here?” Santiago breaks his focus from the trembling woman to scan over the crowd. He seemed to become increasingly annoyed at something, you shrink down in your seat instinctively and afraid. The man in the gallery continues to bear his eyes down at Santiago.

“Do you know what it means to be loved by death?”

“You have made that clear mètre.”

“No pain.”

Your eyes grow wide in astonishment as Santiago dips his fangs into the woman’s neck, the woman seeming to have been hypnotized into a numb quietude after shrieking for help moments ago.

Have I gone mad? You think inside your head quietly, but as soon as Santiago pops his mouth off of the woman’s neck and a gaggle of other actors jump onto her, his eyes immediately jump onto you.

“Who are you?” a male voice, his voice, bellows inside your mind and you react without thought by jumping out of your seat and bolting out of the theatre right when the audience cheers over the screams of the woman. You burst into the small lobby and clutch at the wall to steady yourself a moment. The cheers inside the theatre die down as the actors accept the final round of applause, then people begin to trickle out into the lobby and onto the street outside. You remain in your corner and watch everyone leave, remaining wary of any more rogue voices inside your mind. When only the overdressed fans are left in the lobby begging for a look at Santiago, you march towards the exit.

“Mademoiselle?” The word emits from a voice singular in its velvety tone. Your hands grow clammy. You weren’t even a foot out the door, and therefore couldn’t just pretend not to hear him, so you turn with a nervous smile to face Santiago, who was unfortunately ever more enticing so up close. His hair was hanging loosely now; his eyes did not seem exhausted from the long show at all, they only seemed more fired up as he absorbed you in a way that worried you but made your lower stomach buzz.

“Yes?” You squeak out a reply and curse yourself internally. Santiago pauses for a moment, and breaks into a smile unlike the seductive one he had on stage.

“You left us right before the finale; did you not enjoy the show?” His question is simple yet his eyes seem to say he was holding back much more.

“No, um, I did like it very much,” you fumble about with your words all while trying to keep your mind steady, “you were amazing.” This pleases Santiago and he gestures his hand in a manner as if it say “I know.”

The group of painted faces squawk amongst themselves as they finally head out of the theatre and the doors swing shut behind you with a loud blasting sound.

Oh good god.

“So it is you.” Santiago’s voice conjures inside your mind and a chain of his laughter follows, then to your horror his laugh inside your mind blends with his live one. You back away as slowly as you can from him, trembling like a leaf the entire time.

Whatever in fresh hell this is I need to book it now.

“Come now, this is so much fun,” Santiago replies almost immediately, “I’ve never met anyone like you, so ordinary looking yet so…extraordinary.” He laughs again and you remain petrified. It only occurs to you then that you were completely frozen, you could no longer back away to the doors. You couldn’t turn even your head if you wanted to. From the shadows of the lobby, the dark-skinned man approaches you and Santiago. He wears a fine tailored gray suit, his dark glossy hair brushes his shoulders, and he has a set of unhuman red eyes. You only widen your own eyes in response and internally shriek in frustration.

“Oh let her go I don’t want to hear that,” Santiago cringes as your mental scream reaches him, and suddenly you are released from the air prison. You gasp and clutch at yourself and your purse.

“Please forgive me, but we couldn’t help hearing you in the theatre and simply had to take a look at this anomaly up close” The red-eyed man begins, “do forgive me, je m'appelle Armand.” He bows his head politely and you only gulp. Santiago frowns at you as you stand there unresponsively before the two men.

“I…need to go home,” you finally say with some conviction. Santiago scoffs and paces away from you before coming back with his arms crossed. Armand gives you a tight-lipped, understanding smile.

“Of course you do, but just after we get to know you,” he replies. You stand still for a beat with a false smile plastered onto your face, then take your shot and scurry towards the doors. You frantically pull at one knob then the other, but it was no use: you were locked inside. Sweat trickles down your back since the room seemed increasingly stuffier to you now. With no option left now, you turn to face the men with your hands still grasping the door behind you. Santiago looks more menacing than before, as if he were restraining himself from all but pouncing onto you like some jackal. Armand, on the other hand, lets out a sympathetic yet mocking tut-tut and reaches his hand out for you to take.

“Do not be afraid mademoiselle. How lovely you are, please, we would like to have you for a while,” something involuntarily tugs you forward and you take Armand’s hand. Before you know it, you are whisked backstage where the other actors put on their costumes and makeup. You allow yourself to get dragged into a small office in the corner of the rehearsal room, and soon enough Armand shuts the door behind you with a soft click and gestures for you to sit before a shabby office desk. He takes the seat behind the desk while Santiago sits on the edge of it, the old wood creaking under his weight. You take your own seat gingerly, keeping your face as fixed on Armand as possible as Santiago’s position had his crotch wide open in your direction. The vulgarity makes your ears turn hot and pink in embarrassment.

Like I’m doing anything wrong, you frown as your attention is tested dearly.

“That! Now how is it that a mortal like you can do that,” Armand clasps his hands together enthusiastically, you feel Santiago cross his arms and lean closer to you. You quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

“What do you mean mortal? Are you not supposed to be one too? Is this vampire act thing running backstage too?” you ask suddenly with an offended tone. You make a quick glance to Santiago too but immediately regret it as his eyes seem to be relishing in your discomfort.

“Well, my dear, it seems we let our secret slip during the play,” Armand rises from the seat, walking around the desk to grab at your hands, his are steely cold.

“We are vampires.” Santiago’s bored tone rumbles in your mind. Your head swivels between him and Armand, once, twice, then you feel your brow line and hands perspire worse than ever.

“Am I going to die,” you ask, rather state, matter-of-factly. Armand shooes Santiago off of the desk, then proceeds to dab at your browline with a red handkerchief he conjured out from his breast pocket.

"Why no, no, no we would not harm a fellow…well supernatural. You are gifted my love, and so lucky to have ended up on our doorstep.” The words do not soothe you, they rather deepen your worry. Armand tried his best to show himself as sympathetic to you, but deep down you could feel his deception. It was only in brief instances of a look in his eyes or a sound in his voice. How lovely it would have been to be tucked in your own bed by now with a hot tea in hand; only the fantasies of Santiago with you, not the very palpable and dangerous man staring you down from the corner of Armand’s dingy office in the basement of a den of beasts.

“We could feed on her if she cracks.”

“Santiago stop.” Armand’s sweet smile drops and he whips his head around.

“What do you mean feed?!” You jump out of the chair and wince as Armand’s grip tightens on your wrist. His other hand had abandoned your brow, he clenches the handkerchief with an anger his face would not reveal. Santiago only shrugs and backs off, again; he only enjoyed tugging at your fears and knew exactly how to keep on triggering it. Little did you know that while you tried to keep your mind verbally quiet, that the images that passed through it were still very perceptible to him. He watched as your mind flickered between him on the stage, your escape plans, and your lewd fantasies of him from earlier like some pictoral slideshow. This entire ordeal amused him completely out of his anger at Armand for allowing Louis de Pont du Lac to roam in Paris without swearing into the coven.

“Nothing, he meant nothing by it. As I said, you have a gift. We need to keep close, us gifted ones,” Armand turns back to you after giving Santiago a threatening glare. He somehow coaxes you back into sitting down and remains fixed before you.

“So, when did you first find out you could do it? Are you a witch? Is your mother a witch? A clairvoyant? Well?” Armand asks excitedly and you gape at him. You didn’t know a damned thing about any of that, you hardly had time to live such an imaginative youth. But now that you thought more deeply about the matter, partly because of the pressure Armand put on you, memories of knowing things prematurely begin to come back to you.

“Well, I sort of always could hear people’s inner thoughts, but it never occurred to me as much as it had tonight,” you begin tentatively, “I accounted it to some kind of intuition all this time.” Armand nods understandingly. Santiago meanwhile rakes through your mind to spot out any falsehood, but to his surprise you were telling the truth. He nearly called you an idiot in his own mind, but held it back as he figured you would hear it. You turn your head to Santiago anyway, sensing him holding back something to say. He just winks at you and you immediately drop your eyes in embarrassment.

Why can’t I just get it together and leave?

“Is the little miss, perhaps, enjoying herself here?” Santiago whispers inside your mind, unbeknownst to Armand.

“I’m sorry but I really have to get back home,” you nearly beg Armand as you feel yourself growing more trapped by the two alluring men. Armand holds you with his gaze a moment, something quizzical yet dangerous passing in his eyes, before hopping up and leading you over to the door as pleasantly as possible.

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to tire out our new acquaintance,” he begins to open the door, much to your relief, then halts halfway, “Santiago will take you back; it is late now and we want to see you home safe and sound.” Your stomach does its final stretch of somersaults before landing into a pit of both dread and feverish delight. Armand seems triumphant with himself. With Santiago now beside you, your eyes slowly trail up from his chest and into his face. He remains unshakeable, still smiling coyly down at you like a half-snarling wolf.

“I think I’ll be alright-“

“Nonsense!” Your mouth clamps shut as Armand spins back on you with an irked tone, and so you accept the demanded offer. Without another word, you are marched back up the stairs into the theatre gallery with Santiago leading the way and Armand close behind you. The other vampires meanwhile grin and wave at you as if you are a circus animal being paraded around. You stare dumbfoundedly back into their glowing eyes with newfound perspective, their unmistakeable fangs now glinting between their smiling lips. Back at the entrance, Santiago swings the front door open for you and bows sardonically for you to go out first.

“After you, madamoiselle,” he says in a low voice. You hesitate and look back at Armand for the last time, you think you catch him nodding to Santiago, but his eyes return your look immediately instead.

“Sweet dreams.” Armand whispers in your mind.

Your heart leaps and you step outside curtly, suddenly breathing in the cool air with a deep inhale. The scent of wet stone, cigarettes, and even old cat piss bring you more comfort than you could imagine. You almost feel utter relief until you are brought back to Santiago’s presence as he falls into step with you. You walk in silence, your mind even more purposefully silent.

“Why don’t you make things easier and just let me in?” Santiago speaks again in that low voice seemingly only reserved for your ears. You feel a prickling sensation down your spine and straighten up unconsciously.

“Before tonight I thought I was free inside my own mind, but now I find that even in there I have no privacy,” you retort, “not exactly something I can accept as quickly as you all want me to.” Santiago chuckles at your sudden cattiness. He yearned to draw the real you out after growing bored to death with your prior meekness.

"But we’re friends now no?” His voice seems to dip lower as it echoes in your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut for a beat as if to push him out, and glance at him sidelong. His skin and hair glow silver in the moonlight. The rise and fall of his chest and the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt were now more evident without his suit jacket on. You feel a spark down your stomach and between your legs.

Oh god.

“God won’t help you from me, madamoiselle.”

You stop walking abruptly. Santiago doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead he lazily rests a hand on his hip. You stare at the building door before you: it was yours, but you only partially hoped this would be over now.

“This is me,” you say with a tone of uncertainty and suddenly felt pathetic. Santiago doesn’t seem to be moved by this either.

“Won’t invite me in? We were getting so familiar just now.” Santiago suddenly plants his palm on the door, leaning towards you as if to lure you entirely by his voice.

“It’s late.” You reply sternly this time even as excitement was all but tearing your heart to shreds.

“Does the madamoiselle take her beauty sleep seriously?” You blink at him.

“Sir, please-“

“Santiago.” His voice rips through your head and you shut your eyes instinctively. How is he so loud inside of you?

“I can help you sleep better,” you open your eyes cautiously to hear Santiago speaking softly now. He drifts closer to you, smiling playfully, while your legs are frozen in place on their own accord. His free arm snakes around your waist and he presses you into his solid body, he pushes one thigh between your skirts and legs and you stifle a gasp from the pleasure you felt. Your own hips betray you in the moment as you hungrily rock on his leg. For a second you regain control over yourself and you plant your hands on his chest to anchor yourself from crumbling in his arms, but he only goes further now that he has you. His mouth finds your neck and he trails cold kisses down your nape. You muffle your damned gaping mouth into his shoulder as his other hand now comes to trace down your side to grab your ass.

“You know, Armand only sent me with you to kill you.” He says in your mind, he keeps moving your body against his; he kisses sloppily along your ear then jaw, hovering over your lips before going down your other cheek. You only stare dumbfoundedly at the starry sky. “But I have a better idea…I think I’m going to turn you.”

God yes do anything to me. You lazily reply more to yourself than to him, as none of this felt real at all.

“What did I say about that god?” Santiago pulls away from you and speaks aloud. You drop your head back down to meet his eyes, your mouth still gapes open and you're nearly drooling. You were entirely too enraptured to even answer anymore.

“I…,” In one swift move, Santiago rises up off of the sidewalk, tightening his grip on you against him, and bursts through your bedroom window on the third floor. He releases you for a moment and you stumble around as if the room were strange to you, finally making your way in the dark to a lamp by the bedside. For some reason, turning the lamp on made you wonder if Santiago would no longer be there and that you only had awoken from a vivid dream. But as the soft light illuminates the walls, Santiago’s shadow stretches across the ceiling too. He is immediately back onto you. His arm traps your waist again from behind this time and his other hand strokes through your hair, loosening the pins from it. He rocks you as if in a waltz, and you let him swing you back and forth.

“We could have so much fun, you and I. This could be our secret.”

“But wouldn’t Armand know soon enough? He seems so…powerful,” you mumble back. Santiago’s face twitches in annoyance, unknown to you though, and he spins you around to face him. His hands grip your arms with a deadly force, and you grow limp under the pressure.

“You don’t need to worry about Armand, little girl,” Santiago scoffs and tightens his grip, “what I do in my off hours is none of his business, not like he knows how to control anything anymore. He’s pathetic.” Santiago nearly spits out the last word and his eyes flash with anger. You wish you could fight back, but instantly fall back into that hazy state as Santiago relaxes his grip and finds your waist again.

“It won’t hurt, turning you. Remember the play?” He reassures you, but you sense trickery behind his softness. You begin to actually contemplate the only option presented to you. To become a vampire? Your solitary world wouldn’t change much really. You would have him as your maker, is that what he meant by not bothering looking to god?

“What will I do? I will lose all sense of normalcy…” You press, hoping to delay the inevitable.

“Well would you rather die? How is that for losing it all,” he shoots back at you dryly and you grimace, trying to turn your face away from him. He takes the chance to lick the edge of your earlobe, causing you to feel that horrible ripple effect down your body.

“Listen to me, there will be no pain. I promise this.” He chuckles before continuing, whether or not deliberately, “what other choice do you have?”

You open your mouth to protest but then feel it, or rather stop feeling. A sort of bliss spreads across your mind and body. The only thing anchoring you to the world is Santiago’s arms around your body. He tilts your head back and you oblige, eyes drifting up to the ceiling in a serene acceptance. You feel Santiago's hot breath on your nape, and then the prick of his canines breaking into your skin. You feel it all, but not in the way you expect. The pain radiates from jaw to collarbone, but you are mentally so distant from this moment as if you are merely observing it all. A light giggle leaves your lips as you grow dizzy from the total loss of blood.

Santiago unlatches himself from you, the entire lower third of his face glistens cherry red and his eyes roll back in delight from the flavor. Your blood was sweet, sweeter than all he's ever tasted. It was as if you were filled with golden syrup, not the usual iron and minerals. He looks down at you strung across his arms, a silly smiling girl unaware that she could die if he hadn't desired possessing her. He lays you down your bed and slits his wrist with a long index nail, bringing it forth to your lips. You flinch at the first drop of blood hitting your lips, then swallow it and feel the hunger rise within you. Suddenly spurned wide awake, you grasp his wrist with two weak hands and feverishly lap at his blood. It repulsed a small part of you, the texture and scent of blood, but the warm liquid called to you and satiated a new appetite you developed.

"Enough!" Santiago uses his free hand to push you back by your head and you go back down flat on your bed. Another stupidly ecstatic smile stretches across your face as you hug yourself. You feel your senses return to you with more intensity than before, the world becomes clearer, louder, bare to you. Santiago nurses his wrist back to normal, with an eye on you rolling around your bed in a fit of giggles. For a brief moment he wonders if he misjudged turning you and keeping you to himself, you seemed much to delighted now, but that was one part of it. The new reality of the vampire, the power, no more humanity and its trivial rules. You finally pop back up from the bed, your eyes landing on Santiago who was propped on an ottoman pouf before your small vanity. He licks his lips to get the last catch of your blood, his eyes curiously gazing upon his newest fledgling.

"I want more of it," you get on your knees and crawl before him, Santiago's chest rises with a chuckle.

"Shall I take you on a hunt?" He gets down on the floor with you, his hands momentarily turn your head to the side to check on the bite marks. As he returns your face to look straight into his, you pounce on him.

I want more of yours, you straddle him and rock your hips into his a couple of times. Santiago's eyes widen in bewilderment for a beat but his suddenly needy hands find your hips anyway. He moves you gently against him and the both of you groan.

"What happened to that mouse we picked up after the play?" Santiago replies, a hint of anxiousness behind the lust that was also overtaking him.