The limo smelled of cigarettes and secret, dirty mistakes. Quite the contrast to the clothes that had been gifted to Maeve Genesis. She glanced down at the skin-tight charcoal sequined bodysuit that covered her completely. Based simply on the quality of the material, and the comfort of it's luxurious feel, it had to have been expensive. The beautiful, partially nude and black lace patterns were gorgeously intricate and appeared hand crafted. Why he had had sent this for her to wear to this event, she didn't know, or want to know.

Maeve pulled at the turtle neck designed collar of the top of the body suit, starting to feel claustrophobic inside the large SUV. Despite that there was no one else in the limo besides her, she felt uneasy. Perhaps it was that she was on her way to a mansion with no security, to meet a stranger who had irrefutably damning blackmail on her.

She was used to having her team of highly trained loyal security traveling with her... without them she felt like a small insignificant insect getting caught in a venomous spider's web. Not to mention, the secrets this unnamed villain had on her would ruin her if they were simply whispered.

Politics and wine.

That's all this would be, she reminded herself. The invitation she had received a couple weeks ago had been very vague, but the threat was obvious. She recalled the day she opened the envelope, safe in her apartment in Seattle. Once she read the strange letter, she left her apartment and didn't return for several nights.

She had finally started to feel secure, hell, she felt what might have been peace after that miserable bastard was out of her life but it was gone in an instant after seeing that horrible piece of paper.

"Dearest Maeve,

You are invited to a party.

This is no ordinary dinner.

This is an opportunity to be immortalized. Maybe a restart to those of you... with rather... colorful histories. Histories I will be willing to share to those that do not know...

To RSVP, please mail your reply to 9320 Edmund Lane, Bar Harbor, Maine.

Don't worry, I will be patient for responses.

Do make the right decision and RSVP.

Awaiting your choice, yours truly,

The Man Who Defeated Time."

Just when she thought she was free, she was trapped by another. Frustrated, Maeve's hands formed fists at her sides. This was all part of the game she had been forced into all those years ago when her parents arranged her in a marriage with that monster. She became one with his world, eventually learning how to camouflage herself as one of them. A callous fiend with no morality or care for anyone but themself.

If that's what she must do, she would do it again.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the back of the faux leather seat. She had to put on the mask one more time.

"We are almost there, ma'am," The driver announced to Maeve in his crackling, elder voice.

Maeve didn't bother to reply, knowing it would be pointless. She wasn't one for conversation anyway, and certainly not the host's personal driver. It was odd to her that this stranger had sent his personal driver to pick her up. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or frightened. Considering the host and his threat, she decided she wouldn't be either of those. Instead, she would hold her head high, and not let herself feel anything but loathing towards this mysterious stranger.

Though she had flown very far from her home in Seattle, Maine was beautiful and reminded her a little of the countryside house she had grown up in years ago. The foliage was something out of a painting she would have seen in the Seattle Art Museum she frequented. Autumn had stained the trees different shades of brown, red and orange. Years had past, and it was still her favorite season.

In the blink of an eye, the limo was driving up a long narrow driveway that seemed to stretch on forever up a large hill surrounded by ominous towering trees. Maeve could feel her heart pounding helplessly, making her cheeks flush. It was embarrassing for her to be so weak, so easily startled. Over the years, her fear had gotten easier to control, as her husband often used that fear to get off on it. With her being able to wield it, she could sometimes control him in the same way he wanted to control her. Though, it just meant she would take a few more hits, because if he couldn't control her, couldn't make her fear him, he would just get angry.

Violent and angry.

Swallowing, she shifted in her seat, the memories resurfacing in her mind. Many nights of torture and suffering. She had gone through all that so that her parents could form a financially important alliance in the business world. Even after she begged her mother for help the first night it happened, they had done nothing, said nothing.

No one could have helped her.

So she helped herself.

Saved herself.

And now someone was trying to take that away from her.

Rage surged through her, any and all the uneasiness faded until there was nothing but fury. This unnamed host would be sorry he ever threatened Maeve. She had no interest in anything he had to offer for their trade of secrets. If she had to, she would silence him.

Placing the black, glittering masquerade mask over her face, she straightened her back and waited. The limo was stopped at a large gate, with strangely hooded guards. Unable to see their faces, she couldn't make out what they were discussing with the driver. It must have been a quick dismissing conversation however, because the driver was allowed access in seconds. They passed through the gates without further interruption.

Maeve was in shock as she took in the view of the mansion. It was an old, massive manor, made to impress royals. The neoclassical design was stunning. Maeve admired the magnificent white painted castle like house that was accented in grey. There were beautiful plants and shrubbery planted along the house's perimeter, giving it a sense of sophistication. In the center of the circular driveway was an enormous fountain. It depicted a giant black swan with scarlet jeweled eyes. Both disturbed and mesmerized, Maeve found she couldn't tear her eyes from it.

"We have arrived, Ms. Genesis," the driver broke through Maeve's trance.

Stepping out onto the cobblestone pavement, her white glimmering heels click- clacked across the ground as she walked toward the entry of the mansion. Following closely behind her was the driver in tow with Mave's belongings for her stay at the manor. When the mystery host had sent her the masquerade attire for the event, he had also instructed to bring things for an overnight stay. While idea of staying the night with a potential enemy made her nervous, she also wasn't sure she had a choice.

Contrast to the light exterior of the house, the interior had a dark, gothic theme, with grey, almost black painted walls. The inside was eerie, but elegant in a way that was hard to describe. Upon entering Maeve saw a beautiful set of marble stairs covered by a long red and accented rug. As Maeve took in the atmosphere, the only sign of age she noticed were a few cobwebs and some dust that coated the railings on the mezzanine above the stairs. There was, however, a very unsettling coolness to the air, like there were hundreds of unseen eyes watching Maeve.

Maeve shivered uncontrollably, hating the silence in the halls. She wondered where the other guests were and where her host was hiding. He might have been keeping her waiting to fluster her, to make her feel insecure... more than she already was. Perhaps this was all a game to him.

A moment later, the double doors atop the marble stairs opened and a tall, unfamiliar man made his way down the steps. He was the type of man Maeve would have avoided if she had seen him back in Seattle. The confidence that oozed from his aura made her want to vomit. She had her fill of arrogant, powerful men with steel emotions.

Though his face was hidden beneath a simple matching black masquerade mask like hers, she could see his magnetizing green emerald eyes. His jawline was sharp enough to cut diamonds and Maeve, though having no desire to be with another man in the next century, enjoyed his luscious golden curls. Pleasing to her eyes, she admitted he was handsome and his muscular build was impressive to say the least. What really gave her pause was the fact that his outfit too was coordinated with her own, an all black suit with silver buttons. He even had beige shoes on to match her white heels. His perfect pearly teeth made the slightest flutter fly about in her stomach, but whether that was the nausea or nerves, she wasn't sure.

"Ah, Maeve Genesis, you look ravishing," purred the young man sauntering down the stairs.

Maeve swallowed, her eyes dancing from side to side of the large entry way. It was too quiet, except for the footsteps of her approaching host. Tragically, her eyes centered on his, unable to resist gazing at him.

He offered his hand, making Maeve lock her jaw. The last thing she wanted was to engage in formalities with this showman, but she didn't have a choice if she wanted to keep her freedom. So Maeve licked her lips and mocked a feline grin. They shook hands, his cold dead grip enough to bring back her nausea. Though gorgeous, the man even smelled of blood, a cold metallic stench that mixed with his coffee ground and bourbon musk. Disturbingly, Maeve could almost taste the stench of death itself on her lips.

"And you are?" Maeve asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"We have never met until this very moment, but I feel like I've known you for thousands of years," The host replied releasing his hold on her hand.

She tried not to reel back quickly, not wanting to appear weak. "So you know all my secrets, and yet I do not know your name? That hardly seems fair."

The man smirked, an unwanted tremble snaking down her back. "Trust me, all in good time. Once the other guests arrive, I will reveal my identity, for now, may I interest you in some tea and horderves? We can chat a little more while we wait for the others."

Maeve stiffened, but kept her smile plastered to her face. "That sounds delightful."

"Excellent," her host smiled widely, and glanced behind her at the driver who still had her luggage, "Frank, please take Ms. Genesis' things to her quarters."

Frank didn't hesitate, he was off and heading up the stairs with no other words to Maeve or his master.

"Let us go to the sitting room," The unknown host's voice was alluringly powerful, both masculine and sensual, seemingly supernaturally irresistible.

Maeve took one last look at the doors behind them, the one way out of this house and then allowed the stranger to lead her further into the ghastly home. He looped his arm with hers, which Maeve did not appreciate but didn't pull away.

She had to play along.

They entered the gloomy sitting room, which was royally furnished, with deep teal plush settees, an ancient looking coffee table, a warming fire place and dimly lit candles throughout the room. On the table was a platter of different cheeses, crackers and meat. There was what she assumed to be hot tea next to it, with milk and sugar cubes if she wanted to add it to her cup.

"Please, have a seat." The host told her, gesturing to the settee.

Eager to feel some sort of warmth, Maeve sat on the settee closest to the fireplace. Despite that it wasn't bitter cold outside, the manor seemed to be chillier on the inside.

Sitting directly across from her, the man casually sipped his tea.

"Why am I here?" Maeve questioned, not holding back.

Seemingly expressionless, the man's richly green eyes smoothed over her face, and past her lips until they settled on her neck. Maeve felt heat creeping up her body, and her throat started to throb, like her jugular was pulsating under his stare. The control on her fear slipped, one of her walls peeling off like wet paint.

Damn it, she cursed in her head, trying to keep her breaths even.

"You fascinate me, simply put," He finally answered, and sat back against the couch.

Whatever hold he had on Maeve was released and she could breathe easy again. Regaining control, she brushed her legs off and attempted to pick up her cup of tea. At first her fingers trembled, but once they grasped the glass, she was able to hold the cup like normal.

"What about me fascinates you?" Maeve countered, her cheeks burning.

Luckily the mask hid the rosy coloring on her face.

"Your strength, I suppose is one thing... I am deeply sorry for your loss, by the way," The host's eyes twinkled, the feral grin on his face indicating that he was not in fact sorry at all.

Maeve pursed her lips. "Thank you, it has been difficult managing his business affairs on my own."

Lie. Lie. Lie.

The host didn't so much as touch his tea. "I'm sure it has. Have you considered-"

"If we are to talk of business, I shall want to know who exactly I am getting involved with," Maeve cut him off, her voice no longer playful.

The host laughed humorlessly, as if amused by Maeve's tone. She wasn't surprised, most intolerable men thought highly of themselves and didn't know a threat from a butterfly. If he wasn't careful he was about to make a dangerous enemy.

"I would rather talk about your dreams, your passions... I want to talk about you, not business." The host leaned forward, his gaze strangling her.

It's only false flattery, she reminded herself, he was a serpent whispering sweet nothings.

"I don't desire you and I don't know you," Maeve murmured, almost to convince herself.

Her unashamed host stood directly in front of her, now only inches separating the two. Maeve's throat dried as she peered up at the towering stranger. Though she wanted to run, to flee from the settee, she was frozen again, unable to move. The host slid his cold hand under her chin, the touch gentle, but still commanding.

Everything inside her was screaming. The shadows lurking behind the host watched, unmoving, like the ghosts from the main entry had followed her in there. Fear exploded from out of her grasp forcing her to lose control.

The masked enchanter smirked, his hand traveling down to her neck. Immediately her jugular throbbed once again, making her lungs burn. For some strange unexplainable reason, Maeve could not move a muscle, it was as if she was under a spell.

"Ah Ms. Genesis, that is what makes you desirable. The more you are repulsed by me, the more I am magnetized to you," His words caressed her lower back, a quiver slicing Maeve from behind.

A throat cleared.

The host stepped away from Maeve, the magical restraint lifting. Stepping away from him as soon as she was free, she glanced away with her face up in flames.

"Sir, the other guests have arrived..." Frank's tone was apprehensive, slightly nervous.

"Good!" The host declared genuinely excited, like he was not bashful at all.

He probably wasn't, Maeve thought. His type, they didn't shy away from what they wanted, in fact it was almost like they wanted everyone else to know what they wanted and make it known that they could get it. What this host's obsession with her was, she couldn't figure out, why he wanted her, and how he knew her secrets terrified her.

Keeping her expression blank, she feigned a tightened smile and joined the host, leaving the lingering ghosts in the sitting room behind them.

There was both quiet and boisterous chatter within the dining room that Maeve could hear beyond the closed doors. Nothing could have prepared her for what she walked into. There at the table were some of the most current, infamous individuals of their world. Each of them were dressed in exquisite clothing, all hiding behind masquerade masks that corresponded to their suit or dress. Maeve noticed she was the only one who was wearing a bodysuit. Apparently, the host had purposely wanted to make her stand out.

What game was he playing?

"Welcome, everyone have a seat," The host's announced with authority, as he made his way to the head of the table.

His voice had become less personable, more cold and detached, but still just as powerful and compelling. Maeve studied his body language, trying to determine his next move on the chess board.

Seating herself at the last seat available, which was ironically the other head of the table, opposite of the host, she also noted that the other guests were very hesitant. However, they did eventually join us,  unsure of what else to do.

"Why did you invite us here?" A strong, but cautious voice accused the host the moment we were in our seats.

Maeve turned slowly, not to draw attention to herself. Even though his face was partially covered, she knew who it was. It was Dimitri Baranov, who had recently been rumored to have a thing for little, underaged girls. He was supposedly a newly retired spy from the Russian government, even though he was only twenty seven years old. If the host had secrets on him, Maeve could only imagine the darkness he held.

The host sneered at Dimitri, which only seemed to make him more nervous. Dimitri pulled at his navy blue tux, and adjusted his masquerade mask uncomfortably.

"I allow you to know what I want you to know, when I want you to know, Dimitri Baranov... sound familiar?" His tone was sharper than a viper's.

Dimitri's jaw locked, his dark, almost black eyes flying away from the host. He crossed his arms over his chest, unable to respond. Maeve shivered, wondering what exactly the comment meant to Dimitri.

"Well the answer to that is simple Dimitri, our so generous host has invited us to give us 'the opportunity to be immortalized'," A voice so sweet, with enough sultry to season a dinner.

Maeve glanced at who the voice belonged to even though she recognized it as Mizuki Chen, a celebrity who had been in the limelight her entire life. She was dressed in a stunning white, rhinestone covered gown that had a plunging neckline, and a high cut slit up her thigh. Her matching masquerade mask had white feathers and delicate pearls. Though beautiful and desired by countless men and women, Mizuki kept her love life private, so private her parents still believed her to be a saint. Only a select few of elites knew the truth and something told Maeve the host had more information than most, including her secret addiction.

The host's bottom lip twitched. "So it would seem to America's darling angel."

Mizuki's back straightened but she didn't reply.

Then, quieter than a mouse, servants who Maeve had not seen in the manor earlier appeared, serving the food. They were each uniformed in black strapless dresses, their lips painted in gold, while their necks were shaded in black and what appeared to be actual butterflies covered their eyes and forehead. Something about them unnerved Maeve, a certain eeriness to their reserved formality.

"Thank you," Maeve said politely as a servant filled her glass with wine.

"Eat, and eat well," The host commanded ominously, as if perhaps this was the guests' last meal.

Maeve swallowed a sip of her bitter wine, feeling her heart begin to race again. The disturbing feeling of being watched slowly crept back in, like the shadows were back. She wondered if the others could feel it too, Mizuki even glanced around like she could sense the presence of something... diabolical.

The night went on, they ate. They all drank. Everyone chatted about the state of the world, of business. Maeve offered conversation when prodded, but for the most part, she watched the host.

To her dismay, he was already looking at her.

Through the whole night, the host sat back, his meal untouched, staring directly at Maeve unapologetically.

Once they each had finished eating, the host cleared his throat, still watching Maeve. The group again silenced, awaiting impatiently for what he had to say.

"First things first, I thank you all for choosing to come my dinner party on this Halloween night. I would like to clarify some things, and introduce myself, though you will all probably recognize me," The host addressed them, the elephant in the room planting itself on the center of the table.

Maeve had been so consumed with everything going in her life she had nearly forgotten that it was indeed the night of one of her favorite holidays.

"I want you all to remove your masks, I will remove mine too," The host told them, his hands reaching for his mask.

Swallowing, Maeve took her mask off, as did the others. She came face to face with Mizuki Chen, Dimitri Baranov, Orlaith Quinn, Soraya Kaveh, Declan Murphy and Zagreus Galanis. Maeve's eyes lingered on Zagreus, accidentally locking with his own eyes. She was admittedly shocked to see a Greek royal sitting at the table, unsure of why he was there. In the public eye he was a kind, intelligent intellectually inclined member of the Galanis family. He was outspoken about freedom and did a lot of work in his country for the people. At least that's image she had of him.

Then the host himself removed his facade, revealing none other than the young billionaire and Italian business man, Vincent Grimaldi. Maeve slid her tongue across her teeth, trying to think of anything she knew about Vincent but unfortunately, the man was mostly a mystery. All she knew was that he practically owned the world and was uninvolved with any of the dark parts of it that her past husband had dragged her into.

"Well, I'll be damned, never thought I would be blackmailed by Vincent Grimaldi." Declan murmured, twirling his glass.

Maeve snorted uncontrollably, thinking that she would never have been plainly sitting next to Vincent Grimaldi.

"You do have a tendency to think you're untouchable, Declan Murphy," Vincent countered, his eyebrows raised.

Declan smirked. "That's because I am."

"Not tonight, young prince," Vincent warned, offering dangerous smile.

"You expect us to believe you know all of our secrets? I think you're bluffing."

Orlaith nodded her head in agreement, her obscenely white teeth curving over her teeth.

Maeve stilled as Vincent's eyes changed. His powerful stare made that same fear from earlier return, sending an uneasy tremble down her back.

"Don't I? Declan Murphy, prince of England, I know what you like to do to women, especially when they've been drugged, gagged and taken back your secret apartment with you and your mates. I  know that you pay off your victims to keep their mouths shut and send them roses on their birthdays."

Declan was pale.

Maeve scooted away from his general direction.

Vincent tilted his head at Orlaith, who's baby blue eyes had gone wide. "And you, Orlaith Quinn, you donate a huge sum of money to Children's hospital every year, and yet you own one of the biggest human trafficking rings in existence that kidnaps and subjects kids as young as four to sexual assault, rape and death."

Maeve could hardly breathe.

Vincent's eyes scanned Maeve next, but he said nothing, and moved on to Mizuki who was visibly distraught.

"Mizuki Chen, one of the most desirable actresses across the globe, who has the world in a chokehold in believing you're so innocent, as this perfect girl who is secretly addicted to porn, drugs of all kinds and has probably the dirtiest double life I've ever seen," Vincent exploited her secrets with no hesitation.

"You have no right to-" Soraya began, but Vincent's growl cut her off short.

"Soraya Kaveh, an illegal immigrant who married an old politician, only to poison him in his sleep and take all of his profits, including his darker passions that only a monster could be capable of. You oversee it all, and still have time to sleep with the President of the United States who is married and has two kids, with another on the way," Vincent's disgust with her was blatantly written across his face.

Maeve blinked, her body now rigid from the tenseness in the air.

He turned to Zagreus next, whose jaw was locked. "Oh and don't forget Zagreus Galanis, who would someday like to take over the Greek government and become president himself so that he can transform his country to a tyrannical ruling, as you believe people need to be ruled, as they cannot rule themselves, am I right?"

Zagreus did not move, nor breathe. In fact, his fists were clench so tightly, Maeve was a little afraid of what he would do.

"This is ridiculous, I am leaving-" Dimitri got up to depart, even started for the door.

"I know what you did to those little girls, Dimitri, if you try to leave now, you—"

Dimitri slammed the door as he exited, quieting Vincent. Vincent shrugged then, and shook his head.

Maeve was shaking now.

"These are my rules, ladies and gentlemen. Dimitri just broke rule number three, no one is allowed to leave until we have a winner," Vincent's eyes swooped across each of their faces.

"You all have secrets, things you don't want me to share, and if you win the scavenger hunt, win the cure for death, which of course is immortality and has been hidden somewhere in this manor, then your secrets will stay safe with me. However, if you lose, you will be exposed," Vincent paused, making Maeve swallow, "Rule number one is that there shall be no cheating, no fighting..."

Based on the body language of everyone in the room, Maeve knew that rule would be broken as soon as each of us was out of eyesight from Vincent.

"Rule number two, no teams, or working together... there can be only one winner. And you all know what number three is already," Vincent's eyes twinkled in delight.

"And what's our clue?" Maeve spoke, the group now staring at her.

She knew what she would have to do to get out of here now and she also knew she didn't want to be a victim for the rest of her life.

Never again.

Vincent grinned at her. "The immortality solution lingers, hides in plain sight, come find it after midnight."

Maeve frowned, Mizuki letting out a desperate sob. "That is... frankly useless."

He just continued smiling. "You are all dismissed. Go."

Mizuki fled.

Declan's chair screeched as he quickly left.

Orlaith's heels click clacked away until the door shut behind Maeve.

Soraya stumbled out of her chair, but made it out after her.

Zagreus sighed, slammed his palms out onto the table, and joined the others.

And Maeve was left alone with the host, once again.

"I know that you had him assassinated, Maeve Genesis."

Maeve was at the door now. "Do you know what he did to me?"

Silence.

"Then you know why I did it."

---

Maeve was fairly certain she was being followed in the manor as she ventured, looking for the immortality solution, but she knew it wasn't one of the other guests. It was a ghost with silent feet. She could feel his presence, that strangling overwhelming fear that she had lived through, promised herself she would never have to feel again.

But here it was.

Right behind her.

She refused to turn around, refused to his see his dead face. Maeve's eyes swam with horrified tears when she felt the brush of his alcohol tainted breath against her the back of her neck.

"Turn around Maeve, look at me..."

Maeve let out a shrill scream, holding her hands over her ears and ran down the hallway looking for an escape, a room she could hide in, just like when he would come home, looking for someone to hit.

Fumbling through the dark hall, she nearly tripped when something cold, and hard hit her in the face. Falling onto her backside, she peered up.

Maeve's mouth dropped open, the tears in her eyes sliding down her cheeks.

Orlaith Quinn was hanging off the mezzanine, her neck snapped, torn and ripped open.

She was frozen in horror until she felt a tap on the shoulder and her dead ex-husband's feet behind her. Maeve couldn't feel her face, couldn't fathom that now one of them was dead. But she also didn't want to know what would happen if she let her husband catch up with her. So Maeve ran until she ended up in a library, where the ghost of her dead ex-husband did not follow. Instead she found herself alone in the room... or so she thought.

Before she could crumble to the ground, she noticed movement in the massive room. Near the center of the old haunted room, there was a settee with a passed out Mizuki lying on it. Her body was so still, Maeve worried she may have been dead. The only indication she was alive was her small chest rising and falling. What made Maeve sick to her stomach was Declan, hovered over her, unbuckling his pants.

"Bastard," Maeve growled, taking a few steps toward him, an accusation forming on her lips.

That's when Mizuki awoke screaming.

Declan fell to the ground, inching away from her. Maeve swallowed down the fear that was eating her alive—

So much fear.

She was not in control.

"Daikirai, daikirai, daikirai!" Mizuki wouldn't stop screeching, her high pitched voice ripping through Maeve like a blade repeatedly.

"Please, Mizuki, wake up!" Maeve shook her shoulders, desperate for her screaming to end.

Nothing. There was nothing in Mizuki's brown melted eyes.

And then she lunged at Maeve.

Maeve was in her husband's bed, stripped of her clothes, and staring straight up at her husband. Her husband's bloodied face hung over her, his saliva dripping onto her face. She remembered then, telling the assassin to take his time, hurt him like he had hurt her.

She was wailing, fighting.

All useless, just like it always was.

Her husband locked his fists around her throat, his hollowed laughter filling the air. He was taking everything from her, her choice, her compassion. It was all being sucked out of her as he stole her air.

"Please," She begged, over and over helplessly until she could no longer make a sound.

Death was near, stroking her head, cooing at her with black teeth and crimson coated lips from Orlaith's blood.

SNAP.

Maeve opened her eyes, and saw Mizuki's caved in head. Her voice was so hoarse she couldn't scream, instead she glanced over at the culprit, Declan, who was holding a poker from the fireplace. The poker was covered in Mizuki's blood, and Declan was paler than snow.

Now dead, Mizuki sank to the ground to the side of Maeve.

Still regaining her breath, Maeve let out a sob. Two of them were dead and another rule break in Vincent's sick, twisted game. 

Declan rushed to Maeve's aid, kneeling next to her. "Are you okay?"

Before she could respond, a bullet was lodged into Declan's head.

Wordless.

Lifeless.

Declan's gaping mouth would forever haunt Maeve.

His body fell across hers, making Maeve let out a yelp. More bullets rained across his body, shielding her from whoever was shooting. Luckily, the assailant had to stop to reload, which gave Maeve time to grab the poker Declan had used. She ran, fleeing behind a bookshelf if in the dimly lit library.

"Oh Maeve, please love, come out from wherever you're hiding," Her husband's haunting voice snaked around her.

Glancing around, she realized she was back in that damned house again, the one her husband had picked out after their marriage. It had been massive and close to impossible to keep clean. He had promised to hire a maid but never did, and started taking away her dinner if the house wasn't to his liking each time he came home.

Now she was stuck there again, hiding in the basement, behind his work shelf, where he kept all of his tools. In her hand was a hammer, one he had threatened her with before.

A creak in the wood behind her.

A breath that tickled her ear.

No.

No, she promised herself she wouldn't let him do this to her ever again.

It was time to end this.

Maeve let out a churning, animalistic cry, and swung out from the shelf. Her husband's eyes grew to the size of the moon.

He didn't have time to react before she swung as hard as she could, hearing a loud crushing sound echo throughout the basement. Her husband fell to the ground hard, his screams music to Maeve's ears.

His gun had been knocked a pace away and when he reached for it, she swung again.

"No!" Maeve's voice rang like an anthem to all women that had ever suffered by the hands of a man.

CRACK.

Her husband's hand was destroyed. The hand that had hurt her so many times she had lost track, would never touch her again.

Picking up the gun off the floor, she aimed it at his head.

"Please, don't do this, we can win it together-"

Maeve fired.

Five times.

Over and over.

All she could hear was her own screams.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the library and Soraya was dead. She had been shot multiple times, her blood staining the ground.

"You can't hurt me anymore," Maeve whispered, a tear slipping out of her eye.

The ghosts were gone.

Maeve left the library, knowing she had conquered her demon, even if the others had let theirs overcome them.

Wandering around the empty manor, she found herself in the wine cellar. There sprawled on the ground was Zagreus with a bullet in his back. Swallowing down her tears, the vomit, she tried not to pity the villain lying his blood, dead. Stepping over his body, she reached for a bottle that she desperately needed.

Doing what any sane person would, she drank down at least half of it while she searched the manor for Vincent and the immortality solution.

Something told her that Vincent would have went somewhere safe from the fighting, away from the manor—

In plain sight.

Maeve, a little drunk, and scarred for life, stumbled her way to the front door of the haunted house. Almost as soon as she stepped outside, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Looking up into the endless midnight shaded sky, she lost herself in the stars reminding her that had made it. She sighed, breathing in the outside air, relieved from the ghostly presence of whatever cursed that place.

"Ah, Maeve, you delicious thing, you."

Vincent.

Standing several feet away, directly in front of the fountain she had seen earlier, was Vincent, and in a chair beaten to pulp was Dimitri. The corners of Vincent's mouth turned up, his striking green eyes gluing to her.

He clapped, whether that was genuine pride, or he was being sarcastic. Maeve didn't care, she didn't even care that Dimitri had clearly been tortured for hours, she didn't care about anything but getting that damn solution.

"You've won, just like I had known you would all along." His smile revealed strangely different, sharpened predatory teeth.

Almost like a vampire.

But with all that had happened, she didn't bother to question it. If ghosts existed, maybe vampires did too.

Maeve took a few steps closer, aware of the gun in one hand and the wine in the other. Swallowing down her nerves, she took a deep breath.

Control.

She had control over her fear.

With a smirk of her own, she tilted the bottle for another drink and promptly dropped it to the ground afterward. The bottle immediately shattered into millions of pieces, which made Vincent take a step back.

Good, be afraid, she thought, and sashayed toward him.

"Where is it?" She demanded, her reservation gone.

It had been obliterated after she shot the ghost of her husband in the face.

He was still smiling, and he even winked at her. "I am the solution."

"I'm not playing games anymore, Vincent."

Vincent grinned so widely, Maeve thought she might strangle him. "Say my name again, darling, and I'll give you anything you want."

Maeve was tired of this.

She raised the gun.

"I'm immortal Maeve, that won't do anything but prolong what you want," Vincent told her, unbothered by the weapon.

Her jaw tensed. "And what is it I want?"

His palm extended to her, open. A tiny vile of scarlet liquid was resting there, waiting for her to grasp.

"This."

Maeve snatched it from his hand, disturbed at how warm the vile was.

"What is it?"

Vincent tilted his head. "It's the blood of a vampire, and the only way to having immortality, eternal youth."

She blinked. "And what do I do with it?"

"You drink it, and become a vampire, with me. That's all I have wanted, someone to share this life with. I have been around for more than a century, and when I saw you, I knew I wanted you. But the choice is yours." Vincent explained, still leaving out a lot of vital information that Maeve wanted.

"But why me? Why this place?" Maeve asked, confused.

Vincent sighed, running a hand through his blond curls. "Every year, on Halloween, I bring six evil men and women who I deem deserve to die to this cursed manor that was spelled on thousands of years ago by witches. I offer them a night of misery, before I slaughter them and feed on them. The ghosts that haunt the manor show the wicked their demons and torment them until they go mad and I get to feed. It's the one night a year I feed on a human. You were brought here with them, simply because I wanted to make sure you were pure at heart. The witches' spell claimed that only the pure at heart can walk into the manor and conquer the ghosts."

Maeve laughed without humor. "I went through all of that because you wanted to know I was pure of heart?"

Vincent stepped closer, that tightening horrific feeling overcoming her. Maeve's neck began to pulsate just like before and now, she realized looking into Vincent's cold, absorbing eyes, it was him. It was something emanating off him that made her freeze.

"You went through all of that because I wanted you, I wanted you the moment I saw you in the Seattle Art Museum three months ago. Then I learned you had your husband killed. I knew of his cruelty, so I wasn't scared, but I knew I if I fell for you, I wanted to fall for someone I could share my life with." Vincent's words startled her and yet somehow made her skin ache with something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Desirable.

"I can offer you protection from your husband's allies, from his enemies too, but wouldn't you rather be able to protect yourself?" His question made her heart thunder inside her chest.

Yes.

This was the answer she had been searching for weeks. She needed a way to save herself from the enemies gathering around her and in her vulnerability she was left with no walls of defense. But being immortal, being a vampire, she would be undefeatable. And regardless of how she felt about Vincent, he would help her.

"I'll do it."

Vincent licked his lips, nodding his head to the vile in her hand. "Drink, Maeve."

So Maeve did.

She let loose of her fear and became one with it.

She became fear itself.