?What do you want?? Aida?s voice broke the silence of the alley behind Tough Luck Tavern.

Dimitri smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glinting in the pale moonlight. ?Now, now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?? He moved closer to her, braced a hand over her shoulder and upon the wall she?d her back against. The newborn did her best not to flinch as his scent cloyed her senses; it was unmistakably, irresistibly sweet. The ichor beneath an undead?s skin gave off the most aromatic perfume?lilac, freesia, and gardenia, yet at the same time rising bread, sawdust, a warm fireplace. The smell was specifically designed to invite the victim in-- specifically designed as a weapon, for this species was made to kill.

Dead black eyes glared absently back at him. Dimitri laughed uproariously, his voice so clear, so soothing, it was an orchestra of wood and string instruments in and of itself. His ruffled, ebony mane and flawless pale skin coupled with this effect would be a challenge for any woman to resist. Aida managed to keep her resolve by gazing directly into his eyes. There was something sinister about his eyes. They were flat. Cold.

Deadly.

?There is that wonderful spark I fell in love with. You really are irresistible, Aidalia,? he caught a handful of stray curls as a wind careened past them and brought them instantly to his nose, inhaling so greedily it would seem he treated her scent as some kind of drug.

?Stop doing that,? the vampiress asserted icily as she yanked her head in the opposite direction, causing her hair to fly from his hands and fall harmlessly at her shoulder. The man smirked, but kept his hand afloat and moved it instead to graze her cheek lightly.

?Don?t touch me!? The newborn quickly swatted his wrist away. Dimitri?s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but that smirk never faltered. ?Why are you HERE!?? she demanded furiously.

Her gentleman acquaintance sniffed once in what may have been a chuckle. ?For one reason, and one reason only. To bring you home.?

?I am home,? Aida retorted plainly.

This brought an amused smile to the man?s lips. ?You are one of us, Dalia. A nomad. You have no home but with us.? He paused a moment, suddenly deep in thought. His eyes grew intense, smoldering at her. ?You belong with us, Dalia. You belong with me.?

She pressed her back readily against the wall behind her, steadying her breathing?from fear or uncertainty, though, she couldn?t be sure.

?My home,? she began softly, ?is where my love is. It is where I want to be. Where I need to be. And that is not with you, or with your ungodly coven,? she snapped at him, curtailing the snicker that she?d prompted at the word ?love.?

?But we ARE gods, Aidalia. We, this coven, are gods of the night. We command the respect of so many--?

?The FEAR of so many,? she interrupted. ?And it doesn?t matter. I want for nothing so long as I am with him.?

?You?re wrong,? Dimitri replied coolly. ?Tsk? Your precious Djinn?? He practically spat the name. ?You may surround yourself with a god, claim?rather unconvincingly?that you ?love? a god?? Aida looked about to interject, for her eyes flared. Dimitri held up a finger and continued, ?? but you will never BE a god. Not with him, anyway. You will never be like them, Aidalia Lillith. You are a murderer. A cold, heartless killer, and no one will ever accept you like we will. Like I will. You can be one of us, or you can be nothing.?

The slightest flicker of resignation crossed the newborn?s features before her expression grew hard and tightly drawn. She took particular note of the fact that he said ?nothing,? instead of ?no one.? And she was certain that was not a mistake.

?? He?ll be here any moment,? the vampiress threatened. Dimitri smiled wryly. Was that a hint of fear in his eyes?

?Think about it, Aidalia. Think of all I can teach you. All you can do. Think of what you are and what you can become.? When she didn?t reply, he inclined his face so that it was centimeters from hers. ?I?ll be watching. And I?ll send some friends in to check on you, hmm??

Aida was about to shoot out the most biting remark when she was silenced. Dimitri had pressed his lips suddenly, violently against hers. The action was wrong. It seemed hungry, not needy or affectionate like a kiss should be. Like he wanted something more. She squinted her eyes shut and balled up a fist in an instant, thrusting it forward. Where she expected to meet bone, she instead met air. A faint chuckle sounded in the alley.

Dimitri had disappeared, leaving only traces of his memorable scent behind him.

?Scream. Beg for mercy.?

The sultry, sadistic voice was music to the Slav?s ears. Who would have known Aida could be so cruel to her victims? He rounded the corner behind Tough Luck Tavern and paused at the end of the alley, quiet enjoying the view.

There the lovely femme was, draining on some poor old salt?s person. But that wasn?t enough; by the purplish look of his neck she?d snapped his clavicle just for sport. Dimitri?s blood-glutted irises trailed down her perfect figure to find an unhappy, fraying tear in her ivory silk gown at the thigh. Oh the wrath of woman when she is oppressed. Nothing stopped the Slav from snickering darkly, however, for he so loved to see this vampiress as livid as she was.

?It?s a good look for you,? Dimitri mused aloud, his voice curiously soothing. His eyes lingered uncomfortably long on the exposed part of Aida?s thigh before she turned her head enough from her victim?s neck to see him. He smiled insidiously.

With a start, the vampiress quickly released the prey, her eyes aghast with what Dimitri had just seen. The man?s feet found ground and he raced quickly as his legs could carry him down the alley toward Dimitri. The Slav?s arm jutted out and expertly snagged the human in a clothesline before he hooked his neck around in a freezing, rock-hard elbow. He gazed at Aida all the while.

?Now, now. Finish what you?ve started, love. We can?t have this buffoon out and about spreading rumors.?

The newborn glared at him a long while before she obstinately turned her chin. Dimitri sneered. Well, seems the two at least had pride in common. No matter?he was not about to let a good meal go to waste. With an effortless, sweeping maneuver, Dimitri planted his lips on the opposite side of the man?s neck and drained greedily. In moments, the prey?s dead corpse dropped to the ground. A swift kick, and the corpse was thrown to the side of the alley, limbs splaying like a limp rag doll. A thumb habitually ran beneath his lower lip as the vampire approached the femme oh-so-casually.

?Mm? tastes like Dalia.? She shot him a cold, hard look. Dimitri raised his hands in surrender.

?Forgive me. Aida,? he corrected himself caustically. Even in his sardonicism, he managed to sound irresistible. The woman zeroed in on his eyes. She looked about to shoot off some bitter, biting comment, so Dimitri spoke instead.

?What are you doing here, Aida?? She blinked. What a coincidence. She had just been about to ask the Slav the same question. Obsidian brows furrowed slightly in confusion, but she maintained a staggeringly fierce countenance.

?I am making a living,? the woman replied simply. Dimitri tsked once and held up a finger.

?No. You are not living. You are wasting space.? That assessment earned a proper eyebrow-raise in disbelief. Dimitri smirked and covered the distance between them in one last stride. He was inches from her as he began circling her person like a vulture.

?You waste your days, love. You feed, you play? fill your time with torturous methods and fill your gaping lack of purpose with unwarranted physical contact,? the vampire sneered. The thought of the djinn?s hands on Aida was enough to make his lip curl. He was surprised when the femme scoffed and shook her head in amusement.

?Unwarranted? Please. Not that that?s any of your business.? Ah, there was the pride he was looking for. Good. He could use it.

?When was the last time the two of you talked, hmm? Truly talked??

Swing and a miss. Her gaze was anything but faltering. In fact, she looked rather smug in her silence.

?All right. When was the last time you? reevaluated the reason you were with him in the first place??

Ball one. Her eyebrow twitched. He was getting closer. He summoned good ?ole insecurity out of the dugout.

?? why he is with you?? he corrected himself. Crimson eyes slanted at her dangerously. ?Do you even believe anymore??

Hit. Ground ball. The newborn?s face smoothed morosely. Dimitri paused in his circling and brought his lips very close to her ear.

?He?s tired of you, Aida. He?s tired of having to save you all the time. He?s tired of you pulling away.?

Hit. Homerun. Aida?s lips parted slightly, her lids drooping with unrestrained resignation. Of course he was tired of it. Why wouldn?t he be? What was she but a silly damsel who sought out distress to put herself in? She breathed sweetly through her lips, her gaze focused abjectly ahead of her.

?You couldn?t possibly know that.?

The man smiled and toyed with a lock of her hair idly. ?Mikhail knows things,? he argued simply. ?The weakness is overwhelming, isn?t it?? he breathed into her ear. She turned on him abruptly, her back to the wall.

?Go away,? she snapped icily.

?I want you to think, Aida. Long and hard,? he continued as though he weren?t interrupted, placing his hands on the wall behind her at either side of her head?the same position he?d put himself in at their last encounter. ?I want you to think about the space you?re wasting. The time you?re wasting. And it?s not just your time that you?re wasting anymore?? he challenged, bringing his face very close to hers. He gazed into her eyes, smoldering, and moved a hand deliberately to cup her cheek. She did not flinch.

?I can give you purpose, Aida. There is more at work here than just you. We?you and I, all of us?we can be so much together. We can change things,? he soothed. His lips met hers softly. She made no move to kiss him back. As he pulled inches away, Aida?s eyes narrowed.

?It?s not me you want. It?s? it?s the power I have.?

Dimitri wouldn?t deny it. ?Is it so different? You are very important, Aida.? He moved swiftly in to kiss her tenderly at the neck. And suddenly his hands were everywhere, all over her body, hooking her knee and pulling it up to his waist. His lips were moving feverishly across her neck, up her jaw, hungrily.

A flash of red. No. This was wrong.

?Stop it,? she breathed, and pressed her palm squarely against his chest. Dimitri did not budge, only wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her against him violently.

?Stop it!? she repeated loudly, but could not free herself from his iron grip. She squirmed, but his marble strength was a force to be reckoned with. His hand reached the severed seam of her gown and pulled, elongating the tear up to her navel.

?STOP!? she shrieked. Her hands found contact. She searched. She utilized.

Suddenly, it was very quiet. Very dark.

---------------------------------------

Mikail?s head snapped in the direction of the alley as he heard the most headsplitting scream. In less than one-twelfth of a second, he was winding his way agilely through the maze of the marketplace. He reached the end of the alley breathlessly.

Dimitri was on his knees, clawing at his head as though it were on fire from the inside. His eyes were wide and unfocused with some kind of unseen terror, his mouth agape as he screamed hoarsely at the top of his lungs. And there was the newborn, glaring at him in disgust, her eyes unblinking as they tore into the man?s soul with some kind of connection Mikhail couldn?t place.

?HEY!? he bellowed, and raced toward the newborn, fist clenched and poised to connect with the bitch?s sternum. Her head snapped toward him the instant he spoke, and she spun quickly, taking off down the other side of the alley.

?Oh no, you don?t!? the fiery-headed vampire growled as he made to chase her swiftly. It was then he realized the screaming had stopped, thanks to a low, velvety voice behind him.

?Let her go!? Dimitri called out. Mikhail turned around slowly. The Slav looked ghostly white, his lips nearly blue, but somehow, he was laughing weakly with the most curiously amused?even triumphant?expression on his face. His comrade frowned, but moved back toward him.

?What happened??

Dimitri smiled darkly.

?Aida has awoken.?

Sawdust. It smelled like sawdust.

The blinding light was enough to obscure all but the strangest senses. The blues and golds were edible. Olfactory. The music was soft and malleable. She could inhale the song and taste the accompaniment; the harp was a combination of rose and powdered sugar, while the carillon was sage and limestone given to haloclasty, for she could barely make out the salt on the bar of the stronger chords.

Hops. It smelled like hops.

And there was her life, for she was among the keys of a baby grand then, and the notes of its overtones were warm and waxy on the ebony beech of its lid and legs. The sweet-smelling engravings were gyrating and filling hastily.

Marjoram. It smelled like marjoram.

The wax was filling the gaps of the carvings too suddenly. Too soon. The beech and hornbeam warped angularly, like a malignant curvature had infected the instrument?s postulative spine. If only she could reach it, she could stop the wax from filling the gaps. She could memorize the engravings before they were gone.

Leather. It smelled like leather.

She needed to touch the engravings. She needed to feel them, to feel what was left before they were gone. She needed to taste the color before it was too late. For that was all it was. A taste. A taste of what could be; a torturous example of what a true eternity was.

Not for her. Never for her.

Just a taste. If she would disappear into oblivion or be cast aside to burn, she could at least remember the taste of something more.

The colors faded, but she held on tightly to her portrait as they went up for air, leaving her beneath ?what was? to drown deep inside the sludge of ?what is.?

But she held on long enough. And from somewhere, from something, somehow she could taste it. Smell it.

Cinnamon. It smelled like cinnamon.

?Where is Dimitri, where is Aida?? the voice echoed throughout the pitch black chamber. The vampire who was trapped, being hung upside down by tendrils of what seemed to be nothing more than smoky shadows whimpered in response. The room, the chamber, pitch-black as it was, should have been easy for the undead being to see in, yet he found his senses failed him, all but his sense of smell, and hearing.

He could smell quite a bit, burning flesh, rotting corpses, blood, sweat, but the most prominent scent of all?cinnamon.

He whimpered again, cinnamon, he knew what that meant, knew who had him captured, could tell by the dying screams he heard echoing throughout the vast chamber.

?I?ll ask again,? Zerxzees started. ?Where is Aida?? the room light up with the flash of a flame, and the Djinafriti was revealed. He stood there, in his rich silky robes of flowing crimson and white, his hand lifted in a lazy manner, flames licking around his fingers, dancing like hungry tendrils eager to eat and burn the vampire?s flesh. His face was cold, dark, devoid of emotion, save for one. Hate. The crimson eyes, eyes that resembled rubies with a candle alight behind them, stared with deathly calm determination at the vampire as the crimson man awaited an answer.

?I-I can?t tell you, Dimitri, you don?t-?the vampire was cut off by the most agonizing pain he had ever felt. His words fell into an incoherent scream as he writhed and shook with violent tremors. It was as if his insides had been set to flame, while his entire body, from the smallest skin particle, was being stretching out in opposite directions slowly being ripped apart.

?Do you think that whatever Dimitri will do to you, is worse than what I will?? Zerxzees asked coldly as he walked toward the hanging man. ?Where is Aida?? he asked again.

?I-I don?t know!? the man pleaded as the pain subsided, then tried to curl up as best as he could, whimpering and crying despite himself, he had never felt such pain before. ?A shame,? Zerxzees sounded sad at that point, as if he was truly disappointed in the man. The vampire looked up, opened his eyes to view the Djinafriti, and gasped in horror. Gone was the fair faced man in crimson robes, replaced by an abomination, a monster, and the likes of which he had never seen before. A silent scream of terror escaped his lips, his eyes widened in absolute, pure, unbridled, fear.

The monster before him was a mangled mess of corpses, appendages, mouths, and eyes. A form that was mostly inky black, with thousands upon thousands of ruby eyes glaring at the man. Tendrils of darkness thrashed and writhed, whipped about in seemingly random patterns as the many necks and jaws inched toward the vampire. It was like something out of a nightmare, no true definable shape, no limit to the rows upon rows of fangs, the end to glaring eyes and reaching hands.

?I?ll ask one last time,? Zerxzees started, for the monster was indeed him, its voice no longer smooth and calm, but a vicious and blood thirsty snarl. ?Where-is-Aida?? he spoke slowly, clearly, and forcefully. The vampire could only whimper. All the sounds made after that, were screams of pain.

Four days later, Zerxzees finished his torture of the prisoner, and released the dying man, where did he put him? Why, in front of none other than Mikhail himself, with a letter attached to the man?s charred and bloody skin.

Dear Dimitri?

I would like to apologize for the manner in which you are receiving this information, I would prefer it if I could tell you this face to face. But as it is, you refuse to crawl out of whatever cesspool you?re hiding in. Thus, I?ve taken the liberty of having your vampiric brethren, deliver the message for me. I hope it?s still clear and effective. The message is a simple one. This man, this vampire, the one this letter was attached to, served you, served being the key word, he is now broken, and his heart will explode within the next four days most likely, he can no longer support himself. Just take a look, watch as he bumbles, rants, screams, and cries. It?s really something else, amazing, simply amazing. The mind, it?s a wonderful thing, the most powerful part of the body, but the easiest to break. It can turn the bravest of men into the biggest of cowards, with just the right amount of poking and prodding. The message is clear, but in case you haven?t discovered it yet, which wouldn?t surprise me I?m afraid; I?ll reiterate it for you. Release Aida, give her back to me, or every vampire under your control, and yourself, will meet a fate a thousand times worse than that if this fool. I look forward to receiving your response.

~Zerxzees Afrit

P.S. Listen to the bumbling full, he?s really quite entertaining, you should get a few hours worth of laughs out of him before his heart implodes and the blood gushes from his pores.

Needless to say, Mikhail was disconcerted by the sight of the cowering vampire. He took the letter and vampire, and delivered them both to Dimitri, figuring it best to let him see this, rather than just dispose of it all together.

I offered you the world.

Everything was blue. So blue.

No. It was green.

Orange.

It?s not red, Aida.

Where did that voice come from?

I offered you the world.

Impossible. You can?t reach me here. I?ve escaped you.

I?m in your mind where you can?t escape me.

Impossible. You?re nowhere near me.

I don?t have to be.

It?s not real.

Are you certain?

Everything was black. So black. Is this death?

Not even close.

An excruciating pain-- something so sickening it evoked a need to wretch. But there was no body to clutch, no lungs to breathe, no tears to shed. There was screaming, but no source. There was so much screaming.

I offered you the world, Aida.

What do you want!?

Justice.

The pain was familiar-- tearing apart the seams of the mind and bleeding vitriolic acid into the crevices. It was an agony she remembered. An agony of emptiness. An agony of despair.

An agony of his absence.

He can?t help you here.

Die. Please die.

We will.

There was so much screaming. Why was he not there?

I offered you the world, Aida. I offered you the world.