The dusty and long forgotten mirror stands alone in an abandoned house. Smoke tendrils begin to curl in the beams of moonlight like forgotten spectors. The mirror, demonic in origin, begins to glow. Sounds of a woman's voice, pleading, and then indignant, can be heard. The glass of the mirror begins to ripple, a black wing-tip slips through, then another as something is slowly backed through it.

Another voice is heard, like glass being ground to dust. It sounds male. The woman again speaks, cursing like a sailor. It is Isabella "Belle" De'Morte. She is currently trying to talk her way out of being banished to "Some hole-in-the-wall planet." It's not working.

"Please! I won't do it again, Master! It's just she was so lovely, I couldn't help it!"

"You know I watch everything, know everything, Belle. You think I don't know you saved her from my clutches because you LOVED her?"

"I am sorry, Master," She sounds SO remorsful. And then that grin; that wry, devilish, sexy smirk. "You foul-smelling, scaley, feces-eating baby-eater! I WILL go, and gladly! Oh, and by the way' Size DOES matter, and those are the tiniest horns I've ever seen!"

And with a leap, she is through the mirror, collapsing on the dusty attic floor. She wraps her wings about her head, and hide her face in her arms as the mirror explodes outwards. Glass tinkles about her, she looks up to see where she ended up. Wonderful. Some dead old ladie's dusty attic.

With a sigh, she stands, brushes herself off, and leaps out the broken window. Landing on her feet in the alley behind the house, she frightens some poor begger nealy to death. Hmm...easy pickin's! Grasping a handful of greasy hair, she tips the beggars head back and grimaces. Ew,...this one smells! Belle usually chooses the pretty ones, but hunger wins out tonight. Sinking those fangs delicately into the crusty neck, she feeds.

Now then, to see where she has ended up. Belle De'Morte heads out to paint the town red!