"The music as always had a dark sweet lustre, but it was more than ever like an endless beginning-a theme ever building to a climax which would never come."--- Anne Rice, Queen Of The Damned

Eleni had disappeared from sight, but not from the mind. She had made sure of that. The figure of the small raven-haired woman was barely seen as she took cover in the alleyway between the club and the small row of shops next to it. The Red Question was prime real estate since it had buildings adjacent on one side. The other was the waterfront, allowing patrons to watch the rippling waves from the upstairs balcony, or throw beads as if it were a New Orleans-style party.

That was a good show. Entertaining to watch. It is hard to keep away from you when I see you like that. Fortunately, he was much easier. The poor man, his mind is not any match for yours. Even as she kept herself out of sight, the voice still tormented her. It won't be much longer now before you get what you need. He is in the office now, drawing up a contract. He is filled with torment. He no longer wants just an employee but a mistress. A few more days like this, he'll want a wife. Eleni shook her head no and shuddered in revulsion at the thought.

The voice did not lie. Victor spent the rest of the night polishing off the bottle of Scotch and popping strawberry candies while typing up paperwork. The more he drank, the more he thought of Eleni. It was right to make her wait, he thought to himself as if it were his choice and nothing to do with her. I can't have her at the club. I can't let her be on display like a common whore. I need to offer her something else. It's a shame, she'd make so much for the club. But I can't share her. Stupid, right? She's just another broad.

It wasn't a convincing argument. He needed her now. There was something odd and compelling about her, the way he still felt her hand touching his though she'd been gone for hours. The more he thought about Eleni, the more carried away he got. She is not innocent, but she doesn't understand this town. She needs to be protected.

When he finally closed up for the night and stumbled out of the bar, he had gone through fifteen drafts of his paperwork to hire Eleni, two bottles of Scotch, and a stash of candies. He smelled like booze and strawberries and sex, all rolled into one. He had started to hear her voice, feel her hands on his body. When he didn't, a voice in his head kept telling him what to do. He'd never had that, what people called a conscience, he guessed.

When he saw her emerge from the shadows, he wasn't convinced the familiar black-clad figure wasn't a hallucination. "Eleni? Please tell me it's you there and I am not crazy." She doesn't reply, so he takes quick steps toward her, partially shaded from the rain but not completely. Pulling her to him, he whispers, "Did you wait for me out here? You're such a special girl. I thought of you all night." He pauses and says in a quiet voice. "Please, Eleni. I know I said tomorrow, but I need you. Now. Tonight. I am losing my mind imagining nothing but you. There are papers in my office--I can take care of you, Eleni. Let me try."

Eleni giggles softly, her melodic voice whispering back, "You did? Did you hear the sound of my voice talking to you? I was playing a fun little game with you and waiting to surprise you. I knew you'd be happy to see me." Her large blue eyes glisten in the darkness and the rain. They are so dark he sees the stars within them. "Papers to take care of me? You are offering me a job?"

In a swift motion, the burly Russian grabs her hand, placing the well-manicured fingers on the bulge between his legs. "That is an...understatement. " The other hand grabs the impeccable raven-like braid roughly, pulling her towards him in a gesture of pure need. His body shivers as the rain comes down harder and her fingers deftly find the zipper, lowering it slowly, almost painfully. Lifting her up off the ground, the pair collides roughly into the brick of the building. "If that's what you want. But it's more than that. It's a life, Eleni. This is your home now. You will want for nothing and people will look at you with respect."

He feels the zipper expose him to her gentle touch, and he says in almost a growl. "We'll do this the right way tomorrow. I've waited all night for you to finish what we started. Don't make me wait any longer."

Eleni doesn't mind the rain, and she doesn't speak when she hears the groan into her hair and the way his large frame pushes against her small, bejewelled hand. She doesn't resist and enjoys the reaction as she grabs on to his skin firmly, burning heat against the chill of her fingers. I told you, Eleni. Let yourself enjoy it. He will give you everything you need, and you know what you need. She was not surprised the voice was with her but was slightly irritated that it was an interruption to something she was enjoying a bit too much. She did not need a reminder. Some things, she could handle quite well on her own. The voice did not see it this way, always a conductor of a melodic and violent masterpiece.

Victor's hands fumble to slide the black fabric up around her hips, the water making it a more difficult task than he'd like. "Are you sure this is what you want? Are you ready now?" Her teasing voice was almost innocent as the words fall from her tongue, though she is certain he knows better now. Her lips brush his collarbone, the cool tip of her tongue brushing against his skin like silk as Eleni's body presses into his. The long gentle strokes of her hand are suddenly replaced by the more forceful weight of her body.

"Show me how you want to take care of me." Her voice is a heavy, erotic whisper and her mind has shut out everything but the simple sense of him. The moan that answers her words is the only thing she needs. The way Eleni's hips wriggle against his makes him realise he has gotten everything he needed from their very long game. She needed him now and would not turn back, even if he didn't quite realise what that meant. She didn't need a creepy seductive voice to encourage her to misbehave. When she slides the strap of her dress from one of her shoulders, revealing a perky if overly ample breast, nothing in the world is going to derail her focus.

"More, Eleni. Please, don't stop. I'll show you the world. You don't have to pretend anymore. Virgin or whore, makes no difference to me. Never did. Just don't stop. " His voice is audible, speaking to her normally, not caring if anyone is listening. He lets out a strangled cry as the button keeping his slacks together pops and goes flying. "Yessss...God, you're so beautiful."

It is a sound of pure need, between a plea and a whimper. She feels almost sorry for the man, who is kind in his own way. He wouldn't be for long, though, and Eleni knew that. Some people knew how to be kind and charming until they'd gotten exactly what they wanted. As soon as she signed those papers, it would never be the same again.

This was worth waiting for, Eleni. Even I've never seen you before, not this way. The vulnerability is erotic. Take down the other strap, please? The voice was teasing but was also vaguely aroused. Show me what it's like when you just let go. Do you ever? Or do you need to control people so much you never quite enjoy your victory?  Now it was clearly taunting her, the voice simultaneously trying to arouse her and yet pulling her away from the things her body screamed at her.

Eleni returns the moan as he thrusts himself tightly between her thighs, the sudden vice-like grip almost making him lose control in that second. His face shows simple and utter confusion. He doesn't understand how a small woman can be that strong, stronger than him. "Now I have you."

Eleni's voice is a playful laugh, followed by a sharp inhale of breath and a slight shudder that makes his grip on her tighten. "It feels good this way, just you and I in the rain and darkness..." She meant it, her body beginning to respond, the thin silky fabric between her legs wet and easy for the large man to push into her.

Victor is lost in the pursuit of the entrancing woman offering herself to him. I misjudged everything. I did not find her for the club, he thinks to himself. Maybe she is just for me. I have been alone a long time. A widow would understand.

The thought causes his groans to grow deeper and his hips to push faster, determined to find satisfaction in the thing she has not allowed him. He needs the sensation of being deep inside her, even though he wouldn't last long at this point. He didn't need that, just long enough to make her remember she belonged to him.

Eleni begins to feel overwhelmed and focuses sharply, until the voice is suddenly more than a voice, at least to her. You didn't know I was here, did you? I am the only person who is sneakier than you are. She feels the weight of another figure pushing at her back, hands brazenly moving over her breasts, warm hands making the sharp points ache with need. Go ahead, Eleni. Take what you need. You know I always do, and it would be a shame to destroy this pretty little dress to convince you. You'd better do it fast before he sees me and kills us both. I know you like adrenaline, but let's try to survive.

The silent voice that speaks in her head and the two sets of hands roaming over her body is enough that Eleni cries out in pleasure, an audible sound of immediate and impatient need. Her thighs tighten around the aroused man even further before letting go, allowing him to push the fabric to the side and push deep into her body in an almost animalistic and desperate way. The sound that comes from that single motion is one of such basic pleasure being satisfied that it echoes through the night.

It is easily mistaken for the many animals that use the darkness to fulfil the same kind of need. He shudders violently, hands pressing into Eleni's hips tight enough to leave his black and blue fingerprints the next day. The thought prolongs his pleasure, and he doesn't even feel the moment her fangs release themselves and sink deeply into his neck, the warm spurt of blood mixing with his cry of almost instant release. The mixture of sensations almost causes Eleni to do the same, but the voice was not wrong. She had to be in control, even as her body surrendered to every basic need, drinking deeply as her flesh writhed in search of satisfaction.

A hand pushes her head deeper into the man's soft flesh, feeling him grab at her and shudder violently. Her body reacts with his, her lips pulling joy and desire and life from him. She doesn't know anything else except pleasure and needs, understanding what she had been causing Victor to feel all night. She knows she should stop, she has to stop.

On the other hand, the other set of hands holds her steady, his weight pushing her into the large Russian. The voice pants, matching the woman's growing excitement. Faster, Eleni. Faster. You're almost there now. Please? For me? You know what you need. You know what I need. Don't make me beg. You're so close, aren't you? You can't stop.

Eleni is confused by the weight of the man who speaks only in her mind, and the gasps and sputters of the club owner. She should stop, but no, she couldn't stop. It was wrong, but it was the only right thing. She was operating on blind instinct now, having not fed for so long that she was close to a frenzied state of being.

Eleni's body tightens again, feeling him gasp and make efforts at another round of arousal. "Mmm. So good. So tired. Eleni...tomorrow?" Victor's voice is audible as he tries to pull away from her, realising she's not letting go. "Sweetheart, I don't have another round in me. I'm still--lil drunk. High, maybe. Not even sure if this is real. God, I hope it's real. Tomorrow, we'll have all the fun you want. I'll do better. I promised. I'll take care of you" His words started to slur and his knees were buckling, the typical man satiated after a drunken binge. Sadly, nothing the world hadn't seen from Victor many times before.

Eleni followed him down to the ground, her body covering his. She had to stop. The man would do anything for her, but tomorrow was another day and men were fickle. She couldn't stop, but her heartfelt cries pulling in every direction.

The voice that was more than a voice still spoke to her, hands softly caressing her pale flesh under her dress, slipping into the black silk between her legs that was such an impenetrable barrier for most. The burning heat of the fingers manipulating the most sensitive parts of her made her understand what it was to be willing to do anything for the addictive euphoria, even for a moment.

She feels her body move back and forth in pleasure, moaning into the skin that was almost dry and lifeless. It was a contrast to the hands that caressed her, the warmth and excitement of the blood moving from his body to hers no longer so intense, but her need to climax overwhelming her. The voice urges her on, a provocative tone on the edge of ecstasy himself. Come on, Eleni. This is the best part. This is what you need. This is what we need. Surrender for me. Not to me, I would never ask that. Just for me. Finish this night and make it perfect.

She ignores the voice, the hands, the man on the ground letting out soft whimpers, but it doesn't stop. None of it stops, and she feels the hushed peace and blinding pleasure that come from the split-second of surrender she offers. A hand pushes her fangs so deep inside the man there is nothing left, while another pushes between her legs.

Both elicit sharp cries of need, covered by the sound of the storm, and her body begins to convulse in pleasure. For a few seconds, time stands still and she sees bulbs inside her brain exploding as her body screams release. The voice and hands don't stop, lost in their own kind of desire.

Tell him. Tell him now before it's too late. Eleni...now...

Victor sees nothing except the world spinning around him, flat on the pavement in front of the Red Question. The insides of his eyes are kaleidoscopes, fading to nothingness. He feels the rain covering his body like a warm blanket. The last thing he hears is Eleni's cry of pleasure, and the whispered, melodic words as she pulls her lips regretfully from his flesh. There is a trickle of blood flowing from the side of her crimson lips and a smile on the man's face. He'd shown the girl enough pleasure to convince her to do whatever he wanted. Tomorrow, he thought smugly.

"La Morte Enchantée." Her words are a whispered gasp of delight as the hands straighten her dress, tidy her hair, and the glint of a golden blade appears in her hand. She admires the heart-shaped mark her bite has made, before making a deep slash through it, and across the width of the man's throat. Tiny drops of blood come to the surface, but Victor doesn't feel a thing. Eleni's words murmur into his ear, an aphrodisiac almost heaven-sent. "It is such a beautiful death."

She is motionless, almost ready to collapse into a slumber as deep as Victor's. Her mind pokes and prods her, though. Don't forget the keys, or this was a lot of work just to get you laid. Eleni's hands search the man's pocket, finding a wallet, candy, a bag of coke, and what looked like a wedding ring. Trinkets that were a bastion of an honest lifestyle, Eleni thought. The other pocket held only a knife, that Swiss Army kind, not the stabbing kind. On the side of the belt, she finally locates the keys.

The hand takes the blade from Eleni's, tucks it into her bag. Put the ring on his finger, Eleni. There's a ring for you on top of the paperwork. It's not an engagement ring, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't wear it as one. Everyone saw you together tonight, the future Mrs Victor Zenovka. She lifts herself to her feet, exhausted and satiated, and not even feeling the tattooed arms that lift Eleni and her bag up.

In the blink of an eye, he has slung them both casually over his shoulder. He can't help but chastise her a little. She could have been hurt. You shouldn't have come out to a place like this so late at night. It was going to be nothing but trouble, Eleni. One more stop and we take you home.

The familiar figure carries Eleni into the darkened building and up the stairs. It was much to his chagrin that he creaked, and even more that he couldn't set Eleni down while he worked. He would have to take a dozen cold showers over the next day or two, but the adventure was worth it. It was worth it in a number of ways.

Eleni was a wealthy woman, but no one in the Parish knew her. Now they would both have at least have some reason for being here. She didn't seem to know the basest of behaviour was their way to respectability, even if it was based on fear. Victor Zenovka was Russian Mafia, all the way. Unlike Eleni, he'd done his research about this place. There were things that couldn't be researched about Victor Zenovka and the Red Question, though. The Red Answer was something very few people had, and one of them was dead next to the seedy club he once owned.

He shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have intervened. Things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. Or would Victor have provoked such a frenzy anyway? It wouldn't have been so pleasurable. That guy was a creep. The thoughts spin through Eleni's head until she falls into a motionless almost-sleep.

What is the Red Question? No one ever told me. She stirs only a few times, once when a ruby ring is placed upon her thin finger, and her hand lightly grasps a pen. A voice reminds her not to sign her real name. The world here knows her as Eleni Denimore, a simple and plain-spoken name that isn't an ornate reminder of royalty.

It wasn't until the sun started to rise that Eleni saw the familiar building, shielding herself from one of the sixty minutes each day that Aubrey Parish saw sunlight, true sunlight not obscured by clouds. The sky was usually pink and blue and violet, and the sun more orange than yellow. If not for the clouds, it would be hotter than the deserts.

"I know, Eleni. Time to get you inside. I'm sorry." His voice is audible and soothing as he strokes her jet-black hair, waves now falling loose and cascading around her shoulders. The figure moved faster as she let out small cries in her sleep-like state. He didn't mean to hurt her, just as he didn't mean the reaction her pain caused him.

The sound should not have been arousing, and he actually felt a small twinge of apology that it was. He knew she was hurting more than she deserved, and he practically ran through the streets. Climbing up the fire escape to the third floor, his body started to creak and groan. He was not a large man. Even though he was strong, he had his limits. Pausing to breathe a few times, he gives new respect to firemen everywhere.

Once Eleni was in the purple room, she wriggled out of his hands onto the familiar bed. He can't help the gentle smile as he slides the layers of thin black fabric from her body. It takes an effort to be a gentleman, and his hands linger just a little too long as he recalls the events of the night. Sliding shoes from her feet, he removes the objects she has been clinging to, despite weak protests from her. Eleni will sleep later than Dino today. He takes the cash from Victor's wallet and the strawberry candies, sliding them into Eleni's bag.

The coke and the knife, they'd help him more than her, so he pockets them. Once she was asleep, he would remove his own clothes and shoes and incinerate everything in the hotel's fireplace. If there was a purpose for one of the hottest cities on Earth to have a fireplace, this had to be it, he thought wryly.

As he covers Eleni with the white and purple quilt that has come to make her think of home, he shakes his head a little. There wouldn't be any adventures for a long time, not like this. He longs to just curl up beside her, to let her know she isn't alone.

"One day, Eleni. One day, you and me and a place like this all to ourselves, that's all we'll need to be happy." Even as he whispers the words and kisses her cheek, he knows they are a lie. It's a few hundred years too late for that. They will always need more now. In a simpler world, there could have been a kind of happiness. He knows she clings to it sometimes, just the way he does.

It's a pretty lie, for both of them, and one he'll let himself believe. It's the kind of thing that passes for a soul, and holding it close is comforting.

None of them ever saw the fourth figure at the scene that night, another black-clad figure with a talent for remaining soundless and when needed, invisible. The tall blonde man lurked from the balcony of the club, both ashamed and excited by what he witnessed. Dark blue eyes and red lips he could see clearly even from above kept him watching.

He had not seen anything like he had just witnessed in the entirety of his life. He knew he should feel horror and shame, or at the very least, a desire to help. He felt none of that. It was as if he were watching a film that did not concern him. However, part of him knew it was real. It had to be real because it meant she was real. At that moment, and for many more after that, it occurred to him that he needed her in order to experience happiness. He could care for her in a way the others didn't.

Men used her. He could love her, as he didn't know how to treat the women he desired any other way. She would be his object of adoration and he would give his life to keep her safe. Such an appalling scene created nothing in him but an emotion as hopeful and beautiful as love.

His mouth was dry, his throat constricted, and the more he watched, the more the glint in his eye looked like a cold silver blade. There was some shame and regret from watching such private moments but he needed to see the very end, the heights of ecstasy and coldness of which she was capable. He had to watch, to experience pain and pleasure through her, to keep her safe.

He knew from that moment he would do anything to protect the lovely dark-haired creature. "La Morte Enchantée," he whispers to no one in particular. "No. So much more. Mia amata signorina."