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     October 2nd, 1:18 a. m.

     Taking a drag off a bent cigarette, Chris looked up from his ragged $10 watch and let out a plume of smoke in a sigh.

     Just another day in dead-endsvile. Man, fuck Florida. I thought it was supposed to be warm in this piece of crap state.

     "Yo man, wake the fuck up and stop hogging the booze."

     "Yeah, yeah, don't be such a bitch Tim."

     Chris flicked his wrist, tossing the brown paper bag-wrapped bottle to his so-called friend Tim, and continued to smoke under a buzzing street light while the overweight dumbass next to him took a swig of whatever the hell it was that he had stolen out of his parent's liquor cabinet.  It tasted disgusting, but it had kick to it. He pinched the cigarette as he drew it down to a nub, flicking it out of their dirty little pool of light to smolder on the damp concrete before running a hand through his mop of greasy black hair, a match for his dark eyes and the heavy circles underneath them. The air was hazy with moisture, and his lanky frame shivered, his pale flesh clammy. But besides the buzz of the light as it burned the mist, it was quite.

     Ha, there probably isn't even anybody else awake in this whole damn town.

     And that was when he heard the clicks. Clink. Click. Click. Click. The sound puzzled him, and he let his thoughts wander as he tried to remember, yet it just wouldn't come to him. Tim didn't even seem to notice. Moron is drinking too much. Now what is that sound? His eyes fixed on the red glow of the cig he'd thrown away, as he tried to work through his drunkenness.

     Click. Footsteps.

     Chris started; the cigarette glow vanished, crushed under a glossy red high-heel that suddenly appeared at the edge of the light. A leg wrapped in black thigh-highs quickly followed it, and he followed it up, up, past bare thighs, a red corset top marked with black, to an awesome set of breasts, until he was distracted by a short, loud whistle.

     "Hey, dumbass, up here."

     Stung, his head snapped up, and he found himself looking into a pair of red eyes set in the face of a woman. That was a bit of a shock. However, the look of disdain on her face quickly flipped his get-pissed-off switch, and the red witch's hat with a curved tip and a black band on top of a head with long black hair was the last little bit of ridiculous that he needed to annoy the crap out of him.

     "Aren't you a little early for Halloween? And what's with that look? You got a problem? If you got something to say, say it! If you're looking to make some money, then beat it, and take that high-and-mighty face of yours with you." Yeah, I know what you see. Two fuck-ups in shit clothes, on their way to dropping out of high school. But I damn well won't put up with some damn weird-ass whore looking down on me. He glared at her, and she lifted her chin ever so slightly, thin lips showing a little smirk. Damn it! That look just pisses me off. And the fact that I have to look up at her just pisses me off even more!

     The staring contest was interrupted as Tim staggered up from his place on the curb, blinking gritty brown eyes as he struggled to lift his bulk. "Hey now! Forget about that guy babe. I'd love ta' show ya' around! We'll have a great time! What da' ya' say?" He made a grab for the object of his drunken proposal, stumbling to catch himself as he missed by a good six inches and barely kept from being sprawled out on the cold wet concrete. His attention diverted, Chris didn't see the cruel smile that wormed its way to her face, downgraded to simple smugness by the time he turned back, Tim tottering next to him.

     "How would you two like to make some money?"

     "Surmthmphph!" His hand over his drunk friend's blubbery mouth, Chris yanked him close, whispering furiously.

     "What the hell is wrong with you? Some bitch you don't even know comes to you in the middle of the night dressed like a Halloween hooker, and this doesn't bother you at all? Use your head dumbfuck!"

     Tim pushed him unsuccessfully. "Get off me man! A hot chick is offerin' money! What the hell's your problem? You get big money without telling me, huh?"

     "She's a freak!"

     "If she dresses freaky, then she's gotta be freaky in bed."

     "How fucking stupid are you?!"

     "Hey, Why not hear what I have planned first? You can whisper to each other afterwards."

     "…Fine. What do want?"

     "Finally. Damn, I thought I was gonna be here all night." Reaching who knows where, she produced a picture like magic, holding it out in a red-gloved hand. Chris snatched it out of her fingers, throwing her a look before looking at the picture.

     It was the face of a teenage girl. Short brown hair. Hazel eyes. A little make-up. A happy smiling face. There was nothing special about it. It might have been a yearbook photo.

     "Do you know her?"

     "No."

     "She goes to the high school here in this town. Samantha Rhodes, age 16."

Chris looked up from the photo at the woman standing in front of him. She was smiling. A very unpleasant smile.

     "She needs to…disappear for a little while. Removed from her usual routine. You can kidnap her, Put her in the hospital, threaten her, kill her if you want. All that matters is that something…unfortunate happens to her, understand? And it has to happen tomorrow. Interested?"

     Chris was shocked awake at the word "kill". What the hell? What the hell is this? Why? What's the deal with this girl, and this woman? What the fuck? This whole thing stinks.

     "How much?" Tim asked.

     "Fuck man, how can you even—" A pair of thumps cut him off, and they could only stare at the twin stacks of cash, wrapped with bands like they were straight out of the movies. Bending down, Chris picked it up, fanning it to reveal nothing but 100s. The woman spoke, grabbing his attention.

     "$5,000 each, and $5,000 more after you've done the job."

Chris ran his hands through his hair. "Shit, this is crazy. This is crazy."

     "Shut up! If he doesn't have the balls, can I get his share?"

     "Tim!"

     "Sure. Doesn't matter to me. As long as you get it done tomorrow. I'll meet you here, same time tomorrow to give you the rest." The woman fixed them with a gaze, and Chris shivered. "You in?"

     "Hell yes!"

     Damn it. If I let him do it alone, who the hell knows what'll happen? And besides…ten grand. Ten fucking grand. Shit! "Fine. I'm in too."

     "Good. Let's shake on it then." She stepped forward, extending her right hand, wearing a red glove that went all the way up past her elbow, covered with a pattern Chris couldn't quite make out. He hesitated. There's something about that…it doesn't seem.

     "Get out of the way!"  Tim lunged in the way, grabbing her hand and pumping it.

Neither one of them noticed the quick flickering in her eyes as she touched him, like the dance of flames. They couldn't have noticed the gleam of green that appeared in Tim's eyes, shifting like a living thing. By the time he let go, everything was the same as it was before.

     She said her goodbye, and stepped into the darkness, leaving them to go their own way. They couldn't have seen her wicked grin.

     Those two are perfect. She tilted her head up towards the dark sky, and thought of the girl in the photo. Now, let's see what you've got.

***

     "Alright, I'm going home. See you all tomorrow!"

     "Later Sam! Sure you don't need a ride?"

     "I'm fine. My house is a ten minute walk from here. I do it every day."

     "Alright. Keep it up! See you at the next meet!"

     "Bye!"

     With a wave, Samantha Rhodes turned her back on her friends, making her way back home in gym shorts and a white tee, book bag slung over her shoulder. Man, that track meet was awesome. I took two whole seconds off my time! Sam stopped walking as her smile disappeared, her eyes disappearing under her brown hair as they fell to the ground underneath her feet.

     I wish Mom and Jess were here to see me. She moved into a slow plod, haunted by her thoughts, alone. She trudged down the sidewalk, away from her school, back towards what she now called home.

     What happened to you sis? Where did you and Mom go two years ago? How did you both just disappear? Why can't I remember what happened? What are these nightmares I keep having over and over again? Why did you leave me? Why don't I do something? You would have. Finding out the truth was everything to you.

     She marched on, giving herself a shake as she passed into the cluttered part of town. The sun was already starting on its trip towards twilight, the clear, fall-blue sky flooded with the light of a late afternoon autumn. It shined on a girl just beginning to show the effects of regular exercise, her slight tan disappearing, washed out by golden sunlight. She took a deep breath, trying to ward away her gnawing thoughts.

     There are a lot of shadows today. It makes the buildings look kinda creepy. It's like they're monsters, bending down to eat you. They look so rundown I can't understand how anybody can stand working in them. Not that there's anybody around. And these alleys. I always feel like something's going to reach out and grab—

     Sam's thoughts came to a screeching halt as she felt something run into her back. A hand wrapped around her mouth, an arm crossing her chest as she was pushed into the darkness between two buildings, jaws ready to swallow her. Hidden away, she was let go with a shove, and fell to the ground, gasping with pain as she skinned her knees and hands trying to catch her fall. She only had that moment before she was lifted up, spun around and slammed against a stone wall. Her chest was burning, the breath knocked out of her, and her stomach felt ready to heave.

     "Tim! Calm the fuck down man! What's wrong with you?"

     Samantha took a rasping, shuddering breath, her vision coming into focus making her realize how close she was to passing out, the sight of the face filling her view not doing anything to encourage her to stay conscious. Mangled brown hair stuck up everywhere on top of a round head. He had black bristle struggling to grow on his face, a hatchet nose that seemed ready to cut her in half. The muscles in his face were twitching, screwed up into a rictus; lips pulled back in a snarl, showing yellow teeth, half of them broken, the reek of his breath mixing with the smell of sweat and fear to twist her insides. Terrified, she could only tremble off the ground as tears ran down her face, doing her best not to cry.

     "Jesus Christ man! What the fuck is wrong with you? We're just trying to scare her—"

     "Shut the fuck up! The bitch said we could do whatever we want. AND STOP SQUIRMING!" His head, which had turned towards someone behind him, whipped back to face her, the look in his brown eyes causing her whole body to freeze up with revelation.

     This person is crazy.

     "Damn it man! Keep it down or we're fucked!"

     "Like I give a fuck! All my life, I've been living with fucking stinking drunks. I've never had one good thing happen to me in my whole life. And I get to see little miss track-and-field with her little friends and life. I never had that! I never had anything! But that's over. I'm getting out of this fucking town. I'm getting my money, and never coming back to this hellhole. But first…" his hand dipped down, fumbling at a pocket for a quick moment before coming back up, and Sam felt her eyes move by themselves, drawn like a magnet by the knife.

     You're wrong. I'm not happy. My family is gone. I have nothing. My Mom, my sister, they've both disappeared. They're gone. They're gone. Oh God. Oh God. Please don't kill me. Oh God, please, I don't want to die. Please don't.

     The thoughts ran through her head over and over. She wanted to say something, anything, but she could only gasp through an open mouth, her tongue and lips refusing to move. She stared at the knife point fixed on her.

     Chris watched the whole thing play out, frantically running his hand through greasy black hair. A cool day, but he was sweating. "Tim. Tim. Just try to chill, alright? What's the knife for? Come on, fill me in."

     "It's easy man. It's a knife. It's scary, right? See, she's scared. That's what you wanted to do, right?"

     "Yeah man, that's right. We just scare her. That's enough for us to get paid. We don't need to do anything we'll regret."

     "Regret? I don't know. I think I might want a little something more…" Chris felt a whole new wave of sweat drench him as Tim played with the knife, the girl tensing up, trying to back into the wall as he touched her with it, letting it run down towards her shorts.

     "Jesus fucking Christ man, quit fucking around with that! You're fucking crazy!"

     "But man, this feels amazing! I mean, think about it. I bet she's never done it before, right? She's way too good for that. Just thinking about what I could do…Fuck! It's awesome! What do ya think, huh? I'M TALKING TO YOU!" He shook her with one hand, breaking her gaze on the knife as shoved his face as close as he could, whispering something to her, too low for Chris to hear.

     His eyes weren't always green, were they? They're really, really green. Poison. Venom. Poison-covered knives—

     "…Don't ignore me you little bitch. Maybe I really should make you disappear, ya know? You have this happy life, and I've got nothing. Why should I let you keep it…"

     Sam stared at him as his mouth continued to move, but she couldn't hear him. The sound of her heartbeat was getting louder and louder, the blood pumping through her ears was deafening. Yet inside her, the feeling of fear was conspicuously absent, the gap filled by a void.

     Disappear. Disappear. Am I really going to disappear here? Is that what happened to you Jess? Sis? Did someone just…take you? Are you dead somewhere? Am I going to die? Am I going to disappear?

     The thought was enough to bring all the terror that had gone missing crashing down inside her. I can't! I can't disappear! I can't disappear! I can't let myself disappear! I won't! I won't I won't I won't I won't disappear!

…Pathetic…

What was that? Sam blinked, and found herself surrounded by darkness. What's going on? Where am I? What is--

…Worthless…

The voice echoed inside her and all around her, a rattling, rasping growl. Who is that? Who are you? What are you?!

…Why…hide…

What's happening to me? That voice, it's getting louder…my head…it's splitting

…Fight…Kill…Feed…Destroy…

Shut up! Shut up, shut up shut up!

     The words slipped out of her mouth pointed at the ground. "…Blood…"

     Chris saw her limp body, and Tim looking like a lunatic. There's no way. Someone's going to show up. "Man, she's passed out. Drop her and let's get the fuck out of here!"

     "Fuck—"

     Tim stopped, his anger replaced by vague surprise as the girl placed her hand on the arm that he was using to pin her to the wall. Her head was tilted down, her eyes hidden by her hair.

     "See, she was faking. Told you. Now, where were—"

     "Tim."

     "That's right. The good par—"

     "Fuck Tim, look at her!"

     "What are you talking a…bout…"

     It was only then that Tim realized that the girl that he was holding was not the same as the one he had been holding when this little party started. This girl was much more…muscular. However, he had only a very short time to taken in this fact before his forearm was gripped with pain. Looking down at it, he saw that the girl's hand had grown larger, bulging with wiry muscle, the fingers longer, the nails growing pointed, like talons. It was this thing wrapped around his arm, squeezing the life from it. The muscles grabbing him stood out obscenely; ready to burst out of the skin. Then the hand jerked tight, and he screamed in agony, while Chris turned pale. Even from where he stood, he heard the snap of the bone. The knife clattered onto the stone of the alley.

     Beneath hidden eyes, the girl smiled.

     She released the arm at last, falling to the ground in a half-crouch as Tim clutched at the bent, broken limb as he fell sobbing to the ground. Chris could only stand, petrified, as the girl examined her blood-covered hand, before bringing it to her mouth, beginning to lick the blood off clawed fingers.

     Her tongue is too long. Her tongue is too long. Fuck fuck fuck! Move. Come on, move your feet!

     She licked herself clean, the blood driving the transformation on faster. Her hair grew past her shoulders, thick and shaggy. The red on her face spread across her skin, oil poured onto water. Claws burst through her sneakers with a loud rip, turning them to trash. Her whole body stretched, placed on an invisible rack. The limbs became long, too long. The skin stretched tight over muscle, hairless hide dyed with blood. The face distended, widening to accommodate a hideous number of teeth, pulled into a ghastly grin, and pulled forward, turning the head into a blunted triangle, devoted to the jaw, with the nose reduced to thin slits in the skull. The breasts were bare, lacking nipples, while thick brown fur sprouted between the legs. The mane of hair that sprouted turned bone white. It fell to all fours, and revealed yellow eyes with dark, slit pupils. Those eyes fixed on Tim as he clutched his ruined arm, and the mouth fell open, tongue lolling, running itself over a mouth full of fangs, throwing off droplets of steaming slaver. It moved forward. Tim screamed. Chris wet himself.

     And from the rooftops, the woman, the witch, watched, unflinching, as the demon that less than five minutes was an average girl ago flayed him alive. She grinned.

     I think I've got a winner.

     Chris was shaking, and his eyes were on fire. He couldn't blink, couldn't tear himself away from the one-sided carnage, a living nightmare unfolding in front of him. He was on the ground, his knees long since giving out, gore flying everywhere. She…It was on top of what used to be Tim, tearing into him with four sets of claws, pulping him. The sound was the sound of meat being filleted. But worse than that, was the sound It made. It was a coughing cry, mixed with panting breath. Out of that grinning mouth though, it was almost like a laugh. The smell of blood was everywhere. The thing was covered with it, almost bathing in it as it continued to tear into what was left of the corpse.

     Then Chris made the unavoidable mistake, trying to shift himself across the ground, out of the alley that had turned into a nightmare, away from the blood, his body rasping over the cold stone.
The demon looked up from its play, pinning him to the spot with a yellow stare. It pulled itself off the chunks of flesh, and on all fours, slowly began crawling towards him, mouth open in a gaping smile. He screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed, hoping someone, anyone, would hear him. He had time to cry out to God once before it pounced.

     After that, the screaming truly began.

     The demon was beside itself, body imbued with ecstasy. The air was filled with blood and bowels and fear and sweet screams, filled with glorious pain. Sweet, delicious pain, pure agony rising like the vapor of a burnt offering as it stripped flesh down to bone.

     So wonderful.

     It sunk its claws into the soft belly, the rising slickness irresistible. The flesh screamed, and the demon showed the love it had for its suffering, savoring the taste of blood and torment as it kissed the wound, plunging its tongue deep, savoring the secret sweetness ready to explode.

     "You know how to play with your food, that's for sure."

     The demon looked up from its meal, head twisting at the sound of boots to find another one of those things standing behind her. A human. Yes. Human. Delicious, tasty, wonderful. But this one was different. There was something about it…interesting…

     The witch spoke to the thing in front of her as she eyed the carnage. "Really though, I'm impressed. Not even hellhounds are this bloody. But let's face it. You can't test strength against bait. So," a red-gloved right hand came up. With a snap of fingers, a scent rolled off the human, filling the air before congealing itself into three growling forms. Lean. Red-furred. Angry. Hungry. They smelled…familiar.

     "Let's see if you're worth my time."

     She snapped her fingers again, and the hounds lunged forward, filled with unearthly hate. There was no thought. There was no hesitation. There was only the command, the rabid desire to kill.
The demon brought a claw up, watched it disappear between the narrow ribcage of the dog that had leapt at it, watched it reappear as it flung its arm back, the weight flying off its claws to land with a crack against the opposite wall. The second and third bit down on an arm and a leg, puncturing hide and drawing blood.

     Pain…wonderful pain…glorious pain…more…give me more!

     The demon slashed at the face biting into its arm, savoring the cry as it let go, blood running from a ruined eye. Crawling, oblivious to the beast latched onto its leg, it lashed out with thick talons, tearing into taut, leathery skin, a present just for it. But in spite of the pain, the dog felt no fear, gave no cries, and even the pain it gave was withered, nothing compared to a human.

     Pain! Give me pain! Give it, give it give it to me!

     The demon lashed out in fury, the blow knocking the hellhound off its feet to smash against the wall, thrashing in a heap until it gave up and died.

     The demon became aware of the blood leaking from its leg, and turned back to the forgotten foe. It kicked at it with clawed feet, trying to find purchase in the skin of the beast that kept a dogged hold on its leg. It bent itself over, sinking its talons into the hot flesh, drooling as the enemy bit down harder in response, every lance of pain running through its body fuel for its fire. They continued to savage each other until at last; the dog went limp, torn apart.

     "Yes! That's it! That's what I want!" The witch beckoned, excited, savage. "Come on! Show me some wrath!"

     The demon looked at her for a moment, licking a bloody claw. In a blink, it was charging, ready to gorge itself on violence.

     Then, its world was consumed in fire. Flesh scorched, tongue burning. Ears ringing, filled with a hellish roar. Nose filled with burning skin and brimstone. Everything was pain.

     And it lunged forward, rewarded with a single claw, slicing into a soft cheek before landing behind the witch. Still on fire, it bent down, tasting the only wet blood left on its claw, the blood of the one who had made it feel so alive, filled it with rapture. The sensation that it felt for that person as it tasted that blood might have been called love. It spun around, frenzied, ready to express its feelings.

     A massive, red, reptilian claw seized it by the throat. The demon struggled and thrashed in its clutch, until hellfire erupted all around it, driving it into darkness.

     Fire. Fire. Everywhere she looked, there was fear and pain and fire. A million people were all around her, and she cut them down one after another, never stopping, never faltering, dancing through the flames as they suffered and died, while all around, she could hear the echo of laughter. There were two, guys, teens, screaming underneath her as she turned them into meat.

     She never felt so alive.

     "Ah!"

     Samantha Rhodes sprang back to consciousness, panting underneath soaked sheets. Looking around, she found herself looking at her desk, her television, her bed, her room. She clutched her arms, quivering.

     "Oh God. It was all a dream. It was all a dream. It was all a dream."

     Looking out the window, she saw that it was dark outside. I must have fallen asleep when I got home. From her bed, she could hear sounds coming from the house. Aunt Sandra must have finished work while I was asleep. She got out of bed, making her way towards the kitchen. I need to talk to her about these nightmares. I have to see somebody soon or I'll go—

     "Ah, hell, that's good. I needed coffee after all that."

     Crazy?

     The kitchen was the same as always. A little small, but nice. A fresh pot of coffee was made. That wasn't unusual. Aunt Sandra worked late hours, and liked to drink coffee.

     But the person sitting at the plain wooden table was not Aunt Sandra. She was no one that Sam knew. Long dark hair, skimpy red and black clothes, red boots, a scar across one cheek, sat in a chair, eyes closed, blowing the steam off of a full mug in her left hand. She revealed red eyes as she stared at a red witches hat on the table. None of which had any importance to Sam.

     "What the hell is that!?"

     "About time you woke up."

     "What is that?!"

     Her eyes were fixed to the thick, crimson, scale-covered, clawed appendage resting on the table. The woman looked at her. She answered, slowly, irritated.

     "It's my arm."

     "Arm?!"

     "Yes, my arm damn it! Fuck, are we going to do this all night?"

     Sam shook herself, doing her best to regain a bit of composure, as the woman took a deep breath and went back to her coffee. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"

     "You realize you're naked, right?"

     "Ah!" Blushing, Sam vainly tried to cover herself with her hands. Valetta took another drink.

     "Can't believe you didn't notice that."

     Anger, fear, and embarrassment warred it out inside of Sam. "Who are you!? Why am I naked?!"

     "What, you think I was going to put clothes on you? I already carried your naked ass back to your bed. Doing it without anyone seeing was enough of a pain. Get dressed, and then we'll talk. Trust me, I've already smacked the crap out of you once today and enjoyed it. I can do it again. Go on, I haven't got all night."

     "What—"

     "Go!"

     Sam glared at the stranger, before storming back to her room, hurriedly throwing on her pajamas, and storming back out to face the invader, indignity beating out fear. She did her best not to look at the arm.

     "There, I'm dressed. Now tell me: who, and what are you?"

     The woman took a sip of coffee, setting the cup down gently. "My name is Valetta. The short version is that I'm a witch. I also own you, so don't get too pushy with that attitude of yours."

     "A witch?"

     "Yeah, a witch. Try and keep up here, alright?"

     Sam felt confused, but let her anger carry her forward. "Fine then. I'm not even going to bother with that. Why are you here?"

     "For you."

     "What?"

     "Like I just said, I own you now. Don't tell me you've forgotten." Valetta lifted her left hand, tapping at the scar on her face. "It was only three hours ago. You should be proud. You're the first thing ever to put a real mark on my face, and the first thing to survive being barbecued."

     "What…what are you saying?" The dream mixed with jumbled memories in her mind's eye. "That, that was a dream—"

     "A dream? Are you kidding me? Trust me sleeping beauty, it was no dream. There's my scar and the alley fire as proof."

     "Alley fire!?"

     "Well yeah, what else could I do? Trust me, after what you did, nothing was going to touch that."

     "Oh God. I think…I think I'm—"

     Sam rushed to the bathroom, and Valetta picked up her cup, enjoying the coffee as Sam was busy throwing up. She actually got a minute's quiet, before the girl came running back out again.

     "What happened to my hair?"

     Her hair was pretty close to the same as before, albeit a little more ragged. But once was once uniform brown had been made over with splotches of red. Like a blood splatter. Valetta put down the cup and sighed.

     "Sit down."

     "What—"

     "Just sit. Trust me, you want to sit." Taken aback slightly by the sudden change in tone, Sam pulled out a chair, sitting across from her unwelcome visitor.

     Valetta sighed, wishing for more coffee. "Alright. Listen, carefully. I don't usually do this, so pay attention, and save the questions for the end. Got it?" Sam nodded. "Good."

     "I've never seen God or angels, but I can tell you that demons and Hell exist. Don't say anything!" Valetta raised her voice, stopping Sam as she opened her mouth. "Now, there are lots of different kinds of demons in Hell, and most of them stay down there. However, whether somebody calls them, or they just get lucky, sometimes they make their way here, to Earth, our universe, whatever the hell you want to call it. This is bad for everybody, but some demons go out of their way to get to know humans…personally, if you know what I mean." She barked at the look on Sam's face. "Sex! They have sex! With people! Fuck, how clueless are you? Anyway, so these demons have sex with humans, and sometimes, not a lot, but sometimes, they have children. And they have children, and they have children, and on and on. The point is, that demon blood lasts pretty much forever, and does all sorts of crazy things to people, gives them powers, drives them insane, turns them into freaks!" Sam jumped as Valetta's red right hand curled into a fist, striking the table with a resounding thud and slight splintering, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "The point is, I'm one of those people, and you are too. So you're coming with me."

     "Wait…wait a second. You're telling me I'm not human."

     "No, I'm saying you're part demon, now let's go."

     "Oh God! Oh God!"

     Valetta sighed again, rolling her eyes. "Ah crap. Here come the hysterics."

     "Then those nightmares…my family…was it all my fault? Was it me? Did I—"

     Slap!

     Sam blinked, looking at her knocked over chair, her cheek stinging from Valetta's slap. With the normal hand. I think the other one would have broken my neck, Sam thought, slightly dizzy.

     "Look, I really don't have time for any of this. My arm is killing me, and my patience is just about done. Now listen. There's a place, for people like you and me. A school."

     "A school?"

     "Yes, a school! It's a school for people with the bad luck to be stuck with black magic. You can go there. You can learn to deal with what you have. Get control. Power."

     Mom…Jess…two years ago…

     "…My family…"

     "What?"

     "If I go with you, will I be able to find out what happened to my family?!"

     "I can't promise anything. But with how strong you are, and how bad the world is, I'd be willing to bet on it. Make your choice: You can come, or I can make you come." Valetta shrugged, the massive red arm out of place with her expression. "It's not much of a choice, but it's your choice."

     The room was silent, the night outside dark. Sam thought of everything. Her missing family, her nightmares, the…thing that she turned into, the way it made her feel, the fact that as terrifying as it was, she still remembered it as being too good. She thought about the nights she'd spend crying, the days the questions wouldn't stop haunting her. At least I'd be doing something. All of this is crazy...I don't know what's going to happen, but I have to try. You'd try, right Jess? You'd do whatever it takes to look for me, if it was you standing here.

     She looked up at the witch beside her. She's pretty tall, isn't she? "I'll go."

     And that was how, only a short time later, she was in the back seat of a sleek black car, Valetta in the driver seat, leading her towards her future. Sam asked for the name of the school, and she closed her eyes, murmuring the words to herself.

     "Dark Academy…"