"That's the funny thing about love," he said. "It doesn't wait for perfection – the heart loves who it loves, exactly as they are, faults and all."--- Amanda Hocking, Between The Blade And The Heart

November 19th, 2015
Aubrey Parish, Louisiana

Scott Feila trudges up the stairs to his comfortable old hotel room, a bag full of junk food, a few bottles of whiskey, and two joints in his bag. Fortunately, no one is around to see him. He plans to turn on the TV, turn off his brain, and figure out how to undo the mess his world had recently become.

He throws himself on the bed, sulking. Pulling up his shirt, he admires the new tattoo he'd gotten, a small and ferocious leopard on his stomach. It made his abs look more like a currently existing thing than a memory, and as always, the pain was a release. Not as good as sex or whiskey, but close.

Alisaundra was beyond angry at him, and had kicked him out of the house. After what happened, he doubted she would ever set eyes upon him again. He did the thing he didn't think he was in any danger of doing and got too comfortable in Ali's house, so much so that he was still shocked she'd have dared to tell him to leave. Once again, Eleni was so close, and yet he kept her at arm's length. He had wanted to make his presence known, but the night Eleni moved in, she wasn't alone. The man she hugged tightly didn't follow her into the house., but Scott was disheartened by the fact that Eleni was never alone. It didn't occur to him that the charming young widow didn't know how to be.

Every time the world helped bring him close to the woman he adored, he reminded himself that he was the worst thing that could happen to her. He wouldn't let that happen, even if it meant giving up what he needed more that air itself. That is why, even from the building next door, Scott ignored Eleni everywhere but in his own mind.

And Lala--well, Lala was a Bellerose, and the Bellerose sisters were the closest thing to Gypsies that still existed in a place like Aubrey Parish. They were trouble. He'd thought he could wrap Lala around his little finger, but she was stronger than he'd given her credit for. She knew his weaknesses, could see his failings, and wasn't afraid to exploit them.

He'd meant to use her first, to exploit her own shortcomings to the ultimate advantage for a man like Scott. The first time she touched him, he fully intended to tame a free spirit. Lala had no intention of being tamed. Like him, she was happy floating through life with no particular destination.

He'd wanted a triumphant conquest.

Instead, he'd acquired another temperamental woman, one he thought about more than he wanted to.

Scott unscrews the top of a new bottle, stretching out on the familiar bed and turning on the TV. He is back where he belongs, where things make sense, where he is alone and everything is as it should be. He tries not to think about the purple room next door that is now empty, and the two women who once occupied it.

While most of the Parish was rather cranky about the death of Victor Zenkova leading to mandatory curfews, nowhere to socialise after dark, and police kicking people out of public places so frequently used for escapades of all sorts, it was Scott who couldn't be happier. A lack of options regarding things to do at night made Ali content, her jealousy under wraps once she and Scott were practically living together full-time. Scott knew where Eleni was, and there was comfort in the fact that she was so close, and often alone. He hoped she wasn't suffering too much for it.

As much as he resented her constant need for companionship, he also understood why she was the way she was, and how much she suffered physically when cut off from the world too much. On top of it all, he had a young woman in the house who was as beguiling as Eleni and as eager to please others as Alisaundra. She was the perfect combination, something he'd struggled to find since coming to the Parish.

Alisaundra was a sweet girl who was good to him, and had an innocence about her that still allowed her to be truly happy when he was happy. He had no right to complain and was, in fact, careful not to hurt her. It was that sense of fragility that kept him from being satisfied with Ali. It had little to do with her. In all his years, he'd never spent any of his adult life sober or attached to one woman. He knew very well she thought she could fix him and, to his credit, he tried.

When the longings came for things full of darkness, violence, and liberation, he did his best to hide them from her. Someone so full of light and exuberance shouldn't be tainted by darkness, he rationalised. Ali would be repulsed by so much of what and who he was. It was not living a lie, not exactly. It was more that he could only show her the parts of him she'd be willing to accept.

Scott thought it was nothing short of perfect timing, since both Alisaundra and Eleni were in the process of moving out of the hotel and into small homes by the beach. Ali's roommate, Lala, had shown up and introduced herself--well, it was a sort of introduction, anyhow. Things were all starting to come together when every television, radio, and computer broadcast a message from the Sheriff in his yellow poncho and mismatched hat. Until crime was under control and order was restored, everyone would be indoors from 8 PM- 6 AM.

A few weeks ago, the thought of being locked inside with nowhere to run from Ali and her equally talkative roommate would have reminded Scott of prison. The beauty of the waterfront, the proximity of Eleni, and the almost-magical breath of fresh air that was Lala made everything different. He was content in a way that shocked him.

In a war between the phobia of commitment and the strength of the libido, the latter won out almost every time. Scott was living in a pretty waterfront cottage with two attractive women, and the one he thought about so frequently it was unsettling happened to be in the house next door. The place was stocked with food, booze, movies, and had a lack of furniture that wasn't a bed. Scott Feila was living the bachelor dream. The only way he'd be happier--well, that wasn't ever going to happen. He would settle for the stroke of good fortune that came his way.

Like all good things, the peace had come to an end too soon. Still, he wouldn't forget the wonderful day Lala arrived. It was the day the curfews happened, the day Eleni moved in, the day the world of Aubrey Parish started to feel a little bigger. That was also the day he started to feel sanity melting, drifting somewhere off into the distance. His grasp on reality had always been somewhat less than stable. Since the day Lala showed up at their doorstep, he had drifted so far into a haze of self-destruction and obsession, he needed a life preserver.

The day Lala had come to town, Scott opened the door with a bit too much excitement, although it turned out to be misplaced. He looked up from the bottle he was holding in one hand and the hammer clenched in the other to answer the door. He'd been expecting to look into Eleni's dark blue eyes, often feisty and passionate sapphires. Instead, he saw a shorter, plainer, yet still undeniably lovely young woman who couldn't have been more opposite of the one he was expecting. The girl was older than Ali, and walked with a sense of self-assurance that had no hint of pretentiousness. Her allure was something natural, subtle, and most definitely not Eleni's. The gentle ease and light perfume radiating from her presence lured him into her web immediately, even if it was not her intention.

"Oh! I wasn't expecting a man to come to the door." She had laughed, and held out her hand. He noticed each finger was adorned with a different small gold ring. "Nice to met you. I'm Lala. Well, really, it's Helena. Everyone calls me Lala. Don't ask. I'm supposed to be Alisaundra's new roommate. Sorry it took me a few days longer to get into town, but is she in?"

The crystals in Lala's hair glinted and clicked slightly, following her animated movements as she conversed. Scott had never seen so many shades of brown in hair before, but he was transfixed by it. The killer smile, the tanned skin, the wavy hair, the athletic, bra-less figure not hidden by clothing--everything about her presented an appealing package. She looked like she'd just stepped off the beach.

He felt a dry sensation in the back of his mouth, quickly retrieving the bottle to soothe it. "Ali isn't here yet. Let me shoot her a text. I can help you with your stuff if you want. She told me you were coming."

Lala moved inside of the cottage, looking around. "Cute. I meant the place, but you too. This is my stuff." She offered a playful wink and threw a look to the bag slung over her shoulder. It was an expression that reminded him a little too much of Eleni, and his guard went up immediately. "She didn't tell me a thing about you. My sister did, though. You must be my new roomie's husband, boyfriend, whatever. That's adorable. It's always nice when people are old-fashioned kinda happy. Gonna share that?" Lala plopped herself down on the carpeted floor, one finger with a gold and topaz ring and peach nail polish reaching out to tap the bottle.

Scott eyed her with suspicion, but his body moved toward her with less hesitation than his mind held . She was almost magnetic, and he was very quickly forgetting about Ali or Eleni or anything else in the world except putting his hands around the small ribcage covered by a thin tank top. In the light, he could make out the outline of her nipples, and he bit his lower lip. Damn it, Ali, he thought to himself, cursing the fact that she wouldn't wake up that morning. This is what a morning of frustration and fantasies and alcohol did to men. Of course this kind of temptation would show up on his doorstep.

He tore his eyes from her body, noticing the smile on her peach lips. It was like she saw him watching and approved. "Umm, yeah. Welcome. Nice to meet you, Lala." He tried to mask some of the discomfort. He could tell Lala wasn't just the average person, but in her case, it was a wonderful thing. "Iona is your sister, right? What'd she have to say about me? Good things, I hope."

Scott knew there was little chance of that. He'd gone on a few dates with Iona Bellerose when he'd first come to town, but no sparks flew. She wasn't his type and apparently held a grudge over it, although she hadn't showered him with kindness either. In fact, the more time they spent together, the more Iona became downright contemptuous toward him. He'd never heard her say a kind word about him to anyone since. All that trouble, and he'd never so much as gotten her into bed.

He couldn't help his lack of feeling for her. Everything about her was restrained, uptight, and always proper. It wasn't like Eleni, where the challenge of getting her to surrender to her baser impulses enhanced the attraction. It was more like Iona had no baser impulses. He'd thought she was either a prude or a lesbian. Either way, it didn't work out. "I'd share, except we don't exactly have glasses here. Hold on, let me text Ali to get out of bed and over here."

Lala crawled toward him, almost feline in her movements, sitting up on her knees long enough to take the bottle from his hand. "It's okay. No one's ever got to be fancy with me." She put the bottle to her lips, downing a few swigs quickly enough to let him know she was as familiar with alcohol as he was. Her eyes closed as she handed the bottle back. "Mmm. Feels good, doesn't it, the way the fire warms you up." There was silence for a moment, and Lala laughed, a cheerful sound. "Maybe the text can wait? We could get to know one another first. It's been a long journey. Company is a welcome change."

Scott looked over the oddly dressed modern-day gypsy. She was simple, yet perfectly decorated at the same time. The gold and peach colours she favoured for makeup and accessories were subtle, but brought out the bronze tones of her skin. It was the kind of skin that couldn't be created from lying in the sun or visiting a salon, as Alisaundra obviously did. The colors were very interesting, and it was enough to distract him for a while. Not many women could pull off an outfit so simple and make it so alluring, but this one did.

His head tilted down, looking at the woman for a long moment. If nothing else, Scott was the sort of man easily distracted by the beauty of the female form. He knew he had a reputation for the way he behaved with the ladies, but he didn't care. Life was short. He had lived a lifetime being careful not to have anyone to answer to. He sighed, thinking of Ali, and how she'd given him someone to answer to. He wanted to protect her, but he was the thing that put her in the greatest danger of being hurt.

Scott didn't respond, just drank deeply from the bottle. "Not much to know about me. I'm an average kind of guy who can't stop staring. You've already won me over, which isn't hard because I have a weakness for beautiful ladies. Kneeling on the ground like that isn't helping anything." He just watched her, his entire body aroused by the way she did nothing but exist in the room with him. "What'd Iona say about me? Did she warn me to stay away from you?

An almost sarcastic laugh comes from Lala, who jingled in a melodic way whenever she moved. "You look like the kind who'd be a womanizer. You look like the kind who never met a vice he didn't like. Your wife, girlfriend, whatever know about all that? I'm interested to meet her. Iona said she was the young, small-town kind of girl." Lala paused, her hand reaching for the whiskey. "We were that once, me and Iona. Time changes everyone."

His mind is alerted that she didn't answer his question, but he didn't push. He did not hide the fact that he looked Lala's figure over from ankle to ample breast, up to the honeyed-brown hues of her eyes and beach-touseled waves. He appeared transfixed as her body moved slowly with the cadence of her breath. "There's something strange about you, something I can't put my finger on, but it's there. Anyone ever told you that before?" Scott grabbed the bottle to clear his head, starting to feel like the longer he waits to text Ali, the more trouble he's going to find. The problem was, he liked trouble, and Lala was clearly that. "So,should I expect the same amount of trouble that Ali has caused me, now that you're in town?" He flashed a flirtatious glance at her, before answering his own question. "If that's the case, welcome. Our home is your home." Suddenly, he started picturing himself spending more time at Ali's place than he intended.

Taking the bottle back, she downed another swig and then two, her eyes noticing the way his breathing became quicker and his body tightened. Her gaze fixed on his, she dribbled the amber liquid so little rivulets make their way down her chest, the sensation causing her nipples to become little hardened points beneath her top. Lala's tongue grazes her lips before she returned the bottle. "I'm only as much trouble as you can handle. You'd tell me, wouldn't you, if I was too much for you?" Her warm brown eyes studied him in a way that makes them look like melted candy. "After all, you live with one woman and you're in love with another, and everyone with eyes knows except those two. Maybe you don't need any more trouble."

Scott inadvertently stumbled backward a bit, whether from the shock of his body's reaction to Lala or from the words that felt like a slap across the face. In a moment of blind fury, he grabbed the bottle. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you got some nerve coming in here, telling me about me. Your mind-reading skills aren't so great, lady. Where do you get off saying shit like that to people you don't know?"

Her eyes widen, but Lala doesn't move a muscle. "You're a very angry person. You probably should work on that. There's no reason to be so spooked. I don't read minds. I'm not some kind of freaky voodoo witchcraft girl. It's what Iona told me about you guys, you and Alisaundra. She said you were in love with someone else and Ali didn't know."

"Fuck Iona. She can mind her own goddamned business. She's a jealous bitch that I dumped because her frigid ass did nothing for me." Every time the woman's name was mentioned, a kind of anger coursed through his veins. It was adrenaline, and it made him feel alive, but it also made him dangerous. Some people liked danger. Experience had taught him most did, they just didn't know it.

Lala shrugged, almost indifferent to his rage. She didn't seem inclined to defend her sister. "Yeah, I could see that. She never said what happened with you guys in her letters." Her eyes glanced up, hand outstretched for the bottle. "So it's not true, then? You're the one-woman kind of guy? That's a little disappointing. I should probably stop flirting, hmm?"

He moved closer to her, eyes closing as her presence enveloped him. There was the deadly combination of anger and arousal in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Scott heard a jangling sound as he pulled her closer to him, but still, she doesn't pull away. "You don't need to stop anything, Lala. You do need to remember this. If you're looking for a guy to tease and play games with because you're bored or wild or whatever shit you're up to, I'm not it. Don't start what you can't finish."

The fury in his eyes died down a bit as the other hand takes dizzying swallows from the bottle. A devious smile crossed his face, and he moved one of her straps from her shoulder with a surprising gentleness, exposing the top of her large breast. It was as tanned and honeyed as the rest of her. "What else did Iona say about me?"

The girl inhaled sharply, her eyes looking intoxicated as she stared at his large hands, the tattoos that cover his arms from top to bottom. "She said not to trust you. She told me being friends with you was like making a deal with the Devil."

He groaned softly as he picked up her hand, roughly guiding it to the growing bulge between his legs. It looked like a controlling movement, but was in fact a silent surrender. Alisaundra. Eleni. He couldn't think of them, not now. Please, just let me have this. I need her. She's the one I've been looking for. "Tell me, then, Lala. What do you think?" His large, calloused hand moved hers back and forth over the rough denim of well-worn jeans.

An almost cruel, mocking smile twists his lips. "Iona isn't wrong. I will hurt you, because I hurt everyone. Everything I want to do right now will hurt you. Maybe I do love someone, or maybe I don't know how to love. I care about a lot of things, but none of them will ever be you." The words flowed, but it was her touch that inflamed him. He didn't know why he rambled on in a way he never did with anyone, and it infuriates him so that he tightens his grip on her hand, pushing it into his flesh as if daring her to pull away.

"It won't make me need you any less. Whatever normal is, I lost that a long time ago. So, now that you know, what do you think?" God, her hand felt good. It was too easy to get completely lost in her and he struggled with himself. He wanted her, but it was more important she wanted him. It was always important, with women, that they needed him more that he needed them. Otherwise, everything got fucked up. He already had one Eleni. He didn't want another.

Lala didn't resist at all as his hand guided hers to pull open the zipper that kept him restrained, painfully so. Instead, her eyes looked deeply into his, lips parting in a way that pleased him to no end. When her hand curled around his bare flesh and the pressure felt like an unbearably beautiful moment that made him gasp, she began to grind her body against the ground. She had the inviting slither of a snake and no sense of boundaries. It made her perfect.

He couldn't move his eyes from her rhythm, the way she bounced up and down, the inviting curves of her body displayed and shaking with their own kind of pleasure. His hand grabbed for her hair, a sudden motion that almost pulls strands from her head. A soft moan lingering in her sweet voice, she replied, "I think even the Devil needs a friend, don't you?"

At that moment, he wasn't sure which one of them was closer to being the Devil.

It didn't matter. His eyes closed and his hips moved back and forth against her fingers, her lips, her body, any part of herself she was willing to offer was accepted and admired. Despite the admiration, Scott wasn't thinking of the beautiful woman on her knees, broken enough to be aroused by everything twisted, low, and vile in men. It excited him but he had no genuine respect for her. There was no reason he should. She didn't desire respectability, not for him and not for herself. He decided to please her and offer it to neither of them.

He was already thinking of the next time, when there would be no more games. Scott knew he will have the afternoon with the girls to talk himself out of what he wanted. He would plan to be a better person. Either way, he would wait until Ali fell asleep, glance into Eleni's window from the upstairs, and then make his way to Lala's room. It wasn't enough to feel pleasure. He needed to conquer her completely, although it would change everything.

You will like her, I know it. His mind drifted to Eleni, picturing her in the house next door. His mind spoke to her the way it sometimes did. She will please you. She will be my offering to you, and everything will be the way it was before this place.

At that moment, part of him believed it. She was his redemption.

His arousal swelled and echoed, traveling from the house to the waters and back again, filling the room. The house was made a new home with memories of abandoned pleasure. Everything had a price, and he was willing to pay hers, whatever it was she wanted. Whether she knew it yet or not, she would return the favour, a point he makes with a final, vicious thrust.

"Lala..." His voice gasps, shuddering even more intensely at the beautiful sight of the girl's shirt, soaked with sweat, and whiskey, and remnants of his violent passion. "Be sure to tell Iona you're proud to have become the Devil's mistress. " Blinking and trembling, he managed to pull his phone from his pocket and type out a message.

"Ali is on her way to meet you. I know the two of you will be great friends. Like you, she also thinks forbidden fruit is the most delicious. " Seeing the look on Lala's face, he leaned in to whisper into her ear, his voice seductive and entrancing. "Don't worry, Lala. You're too special to be a one-time thing. It's not often I make promises before sealing the deal, so to speak, but I already know. You belong to me now. I wouldn't have it any other way. "

A smile crossed his lips, not made of joy, but something more sinister. He knew he'd given the girl the thing she really came here for, but why? He didn't know if she came to find him out of revenge, rebellion, or maybe just to cause trouble. She surprised him with her wanton seductiveness, the way his will melted in her presence.

He was going to say no to anything the girl offered. He had prepared himself. It wasn't fair to Ali, and it wasn't really Lala he wanted. Everything changed the moment he realised how much he did want her. She wasn't the kind of girl that made men think of the word "no", but he'd met others like that before. It was more that she saw his darkness, and wasn't afraid. If anything, she encouraged it.

If Lala wanted trouble, she'd get trouble, and then some. It never crossed his mind that maybe she was a free-spirited woman who liked men, booze, and sex. The way he saw it, she offered what she did because she wanted a place to belong.

Patting her head with a sort of affection, Scott zipped up his pants and grabbed the bottle, his entire body aching as he walked away from a stunned and speechless Lala. Whatever it was the girl wanted, she'd already gotten more than she bargained for.

He wondered idly if he had, as well.

Alisaundra had woken up alone that morning, enjoying the long night of sleep that stretched into the day, and was reserved for Saturday mornings. She noticed Scott was gone, frowning a bit at the observation. Picking up her phone, her mood improves slightly as she scrolls through text messages. He had gone to the new house to make sure it was in shape, which was the sweetest thing in the history of ever of Ali. Scrolling through a few more messages then reveale her new roommate had gotten into town.

How late was it? A cursory glance at the clock said 2:43 PM. Yes, Ali had slept a good deal of the day away, but the curfews in place reminded her of snow days. It was like the Mayor and Sheriff of Aubrey Parish got together and declared everyone needed some rest and should stay home more. Ali just took full advantage of that.

She stretched and ran her fingers through her now completely disheveled blonde hair. Ali grimaced. Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night, and fix her hair and makeup in case Scott woke up and noticed her sleeping. She didn't want him knowing she often looked like this.

Born in a small town outside of Omaha, Nebraska, Alisaundra Andel was a pretty girl who'd never be beautiful and a smart girl who got too little credit for brains, which were overshadowed by her perpetual energy and scatterbrained, talkative personality. She learned early how to bleach her hair and pluck her eyebrows, how to stuff her bra until nature did it for her, and how to hide the slight chubbiness her mother lovingly called "baby fat".

She hated it. She wanted to be tall and pretty and the kind of woman who looked good in everything, or nothing at all. Ali was 19, and still had baby fat and a baby face and a bubbly way of communicating with the world that made her seem closer to fifteen. She had never passed 5'4", the girl near the top of the pyramid. She was ready to be a serious adult woman, but no one seemed to look at her that way. When she'd come to Aubrey Parish, her editor had been the first one to make her feel that way. She'd even given the wide-eyed, enthusiastic Ali the number of the local salon and addresses for shopping.

Ali had learned that grown-up women didn't come out of the box that way, like Barbie dolls. She looked at her editor, Iona, as a pinnacle of sophistication. The woman always dressed impeccably, wore heels, attached real pearls to every outfit, and had perfectly straight hair cut into a fashionable bob that framed her face. Iona worked at looking like Iona, just the way she saw Eleni worked at looking like Eleni. It made Ali feel better to notice when Eleni undid her perfectly-styled hair, she had long, boisterous hair that took work to tame, and without the dramatic makeup, her blue eyes didn't announce their presence from a mile away. All women had to work at being grown-up and pretty. Some just had to work harder than others.

It was knowing women like Iona and Eleni that taught Ali of the importance of cute underwear that made B-cups look like C's, and blue eye shadow teamed up with black mascara. She learned of the importance of salons, where professionals gave her the almost-but-not-quite natural blonde hair and arched eyebrows. Ali learned that women waxed things she never dreamed were waxed, especially in a place like Aubrey Parish, where no one hid bodies under bulky sweaters 8 months out of the year. Dressing well made up for her insecurities. Little by little, Ali had been blossoming. She was in such a rush to grow up, she didn't know she was leaving anything behind.

Scott was one of those things that made her feel grown-up, though of course he wasn't a thing. Ali had dated before, had gone to dances and proms and lost her virginity in the back of a rented limo parked near the football field on the night of her junior homecoming. Her familiarity with actual grown-up men was limited, as it should have been, so when he took an interest in her, her heart started to flip-flop all over the place. He'd told her to not get too attached, that he didn't date and wasn't looking for a wife, but only half of Ali accepted this. The other half saw him as a project she could fix. The more Ali found herself leaving behind her girlish ways and becoming a serious journalist and impeccably-groomed woman, the more he would have to love her. She saw how men looked at Eleni in admiration, how they were almost afraid of Iona, how they became chivalrous and protective of the adorable redhead who wandered around the park.

Ali wanted that. She wanted all of that, to be treated like a lady who was both desired and respected. She thought the answer was somewhere inside a man fourteen years her senior. One day, people had warned, she would see it differently and she wouldn't feel the same way about Scott anymore. Ali didn't believe that. He was troubled and drank too much, but he was also kind to her and saw a beautiful woman when he looked at her.

Her eyes sparkled now, because she loved him. It didn't matter that he'd repeatedly told her not to.

Alisaundra let out a little squeal and ran to the shower, seeing the text from Scott that pleaded with her to wake up and come see the house and meet her roommate. He'd missed her.

His last text was simple, straightforward, and warmed Ali's heart.

"Please come over soon, I need you."

She couldn't ask for more than that.

Eleni didn't get home until late the day the curfew went into effect, allowing her to miss the arrival of Lala and anything else that happened in the house next door. She was consumed with her own drama and worries, and for good reason. People who didn't even know her didn't trust her, and the knowledge stung a bit.

She had spent the day at Mudbugs, and she knew she was part of the growing group of people who were a reason for the decision to keep people inside while the murder of Victor Zenkova was properly investigated. It wasn't just out of amusement she'd convinced Brian to listen to the conversation between the Sheriff and Chance. The Sheriff didn't use the word, but said everything but to imply she was a gold digger. It wasn't true. Neither Eleni's life nor her personality allowed it to be that simple. However, perception often meant more than reality, a fact she'd traveled here to escape. Somehow, it had followed her.

As she had many times before, Eleni stood to inherit a handsome amount of money from the man who'd supposedly named her in his will. This time, it was a little different. Not only had she not married Victor, she didn't even really know him. Everything that happened was like a small storm that started brewing when she knew she had to get herself away from Marius to keep him safe, and the result was a full-blown hurricane that had shut down the Parish. Eleni always had a bit of a gift for chaos and a well-deserved reputation for enjoying the dramatic.

As far as devious schemes went, this was not an example of Eleni's best work, but she hadn't exactly planned anything. The money she stood to inherit would be watched, not only by the authorities, but by the Russian Mafia. It would not be Eleni's first run-in with the world of Russian organised crime, but she hoped it would be her last. Eleni had learned the first time there was a difference between murderers and killers. She hadn't exactly had all the pertinent information about Victor's life, but the more she learned, the more she was pleased with herself.

There was a certain type of person the world was better without. Eleni helped make the world a safer place for many people. She took pride in that, even if it was something no one could ever know about or understand.

Eleni would also inherit the Red Question, and it was one thing to own a bar, but the Red Question was not a bar. She didn't yet know the extent of what it was, but she knew enough to deduce it was a strip club, a brothel, and a front for whatever criminal activity the Russians were bringing into the Parish. It had been a long time since Eleni had been a Domina. It had been a full century, to be exact. She was younger then, and colder. Time hadn't erased Eleni's shreds of humanity, as it did for most. It had strengthened them. In many ways, she would always be too sensitive for a world that would be hers until she left it.

It was a lot to process and a lot of looking over her shoulder. Part of her didn't want any of it. She wanted to get to know the sweet man at the hotel better, push past whatever kept him so guarded. Eleni had now been widowed long enough that freedom and independence had become cloying and claustrophobic. She was, by nature, an old-fashioned woman who valued the simplest, most human parts of life. Eleni would of course remarry, eventually, but not for money or because she didn't know how to care for herself.

It would be because Eleni needed to feel loved. Without it, her life felt empty, and adoration differed from love. All Eleni wanted was everything she was never allowed to have.

The time with Brian had strangely soothed her. He was a bit like a child who was curious about the world, yet afraid of it at the same time. It was easy to see how besotted he was with her, and the temptation to draw him closer and bring him into her world was a strong one. Eleni knew what it was to feel denied love, and she wished she could bring that to his life. She could, so easily, but it would not help him. He needed to find his own path, free of Gods and demons and vampires. She had already given him a gift, one that would help free him from his self-imposed imprisonment.

It was enough. Brian would be alright.

Eleni's long day meant that she missed the small joy of setting up her home, though after she left Brian, she became excited at the prospect of her new home. She hadn't lived anywhere so small in a long while, but something about the openness, the light, the proximity to the water and the trees, it felt right for Eleni. The movers had done an excellent job, though she'd spend the next few days putting all her personal effects in the proper place.

She'd also missed the arrival of her neighbours, though the homes on either side of hers were clearly occupied. Eleni valued privacy, and although she was a congenial person, it meant she wasn't the kind who'd go the neighbours with baskets of muffins and cookies to greet them.

Those who lived in the home to the right of Eleni's had a different philosophy. A knock at the door introduced her to a small Japanese man named Kenjii, and his partner, James. James had a tall, Nordic look about him and a love of wine, while Kenjii appreciated the art hanging on Eleni's walls and had a passion for architecture and interior design. They left Eleni with two bottles of wine and a smile, as she was happy that culture and the finer things in life were still appreciated in Aubrey Parish. She'd invited them to come over and play the piano sitting in her living room anytime.

The house on the other side of Eleni's was the last in the row, and afforded the most privacy. There was even a hammock and a swing by the water, which Eleni wondered if the owners would object to her using late at night. Curious as always, she'd attempted to peek into the house, but all the windows already had lace curtains. They were lovely if not quite functional. She could still make out the shadows of the figures inside; a man living with two women.

Eleni chuckled to herself, thinking Aubrey Parish was quite the open-minded place for one of the most conservative parts of America.

Finally equipped with a proper bed and a sense of belonging in her new world, Eleni entered a dream-like state for nearly twelve hours. She regretted not telling Marius where she lived, yearning to see him. She felt his discontent at her absence. Really, what she felt was her own discontent. She missed him, though she'd not admit that.

For a while, it was like she was back in the hotel still. In her visions she saw Marius in the parlour, and Dino flirting with the clerk. She heard the voices of Scott and Alisaundra. It was as if she'd never left, but when she woke up, the window in her bedroom that allowed her to see the rain falling from the sky reminded her that things were different.

Most things were different, but for Eleni, something always had to stay the same. Among the fine furnishings and impeccable decor of Eleni's new home was a familiar, worn purple and white quilt. It had been too hard to leave it behind.

Eleni wasn't the sort to attach to things easily, but once she did, she would never leave them behind. Whether next to her or an ocean away, she would protect the people, objects, and memories that made up the patchwork quilt of her long and complex life.