[Jessari]

Roraldi possessed a primitive beauty, something sunset couldn't diminish, but merely enhanced. It wasn't something Abram would normally have noticed, but there were a lot of things he'd been noticing recently that wouldn't have otherwise registered with his practical mindset. The shifting of the forest's song, for instance, as the songbirds were silenced in favor of the wilder calls of the nightlife. It spoke to the wildness in his heart, the predator that lurked so close to the surface.

But he wasn't here as a predator tonight. He hadn't been sent by the demon who'd sired him, nor did the demon have any idea he'd come. It was one of the few times in his life he'd made a decision based on his own desires rather than what orders he'd been given. It was a dangerous move, but one that had to be made nonetheless.

[Jessari]

Magic didn't work on Abram; it was a trait that had proved very handy when Kolya needed a supernatural rival taken down. They simply couldn't see him coming. He was a blind spot, invisible in a way that his brothers couldn't match.

Despite his immunity, a spell of another sort had been cast upon him. A spell that had worked its way into the deepest part of him. A spell that was slowly changing him from the inside out. Annie. The default grimace upon his face softened at the mere thought of the woman he'd come to respect, admire, love. She'd stumbled across his broken body after an assassination gone bad, and rather than running or calling the police, she'd taken him in and nursed him back to health. Abram had never been that close to a woman before, at least not without orders to kill or torture them. It had left him disoriented, with no idea how to act or react to her. He was equally unfamiliar with the concept of kindness, and her gentle touch as he was mending had reached much further than his wounds.

Somehow, despite his social ineptitude, she'd broken through Abram's tough exterior. Soft, yet firm, Annie had become his angel. She was the only good thing he knew in a dark world filled with pain and death. She became his addiction, the only secret he'd ever kept from his brothers, and even after he'd healed, Abram slipped away to meet with her any time he found a free moment.

[Jessari]

Spending time with Annie had its downsides, however. Up until now, Abram had unquestioningly done whatever task required of him by his sire. Torture or kill, innocent or evil, it made no difference to him. People didn't matter; the only things that did was the safety of his brothers and staying on his sire's good side. He had no use for morals or conscience, which would only get in the way of his duties.

Although he wasn't sure if she even realized it, Annie was changing him. Yesterday it had been a woman bound to the chair in his 'workshop', the daughter of one of Kolya's enemies. Abram had been sent to take her apart, slowly and painfully. The video of his work would be sent to the father as a lesson in what happened to those who displeased the demon. As Abram picked up the first tool, neared the woman, he found his eyes continually drawn to her face.

Throughout the torture session - he did follow through with the torture - Abram couldn't stop thinking of Annie. He kept thinking of her lying there on that chair, screaming and covered in blood. He felt...wrong. He wasn't used to feeling anything at all, and certainly not this...this hesitation. He didn't even know this girl, so why should he be bothered to care? But despite his stubborn denial, he found that he did.

[Jessari]

It was one of the reasons he was so anxious to meet with Annie today. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable with his life as Kolya's slave. Dirty, worthless. He needed her like a druggie craving a fix. She was the only one who could soothe this restlessness inside him, who could make him feel like he could be a better person, as though his fate wasn't already fixed in stone. She made him feel happy.

The sky had darkened considerably since he'd first arrived, and Abram peered worriedly at his watch. It wasn't like Annie to run late. Grey eyes scanned the forest, as if simply by looking he could cause her to appear. Perhaps she had to work late at the hospital. The irony of it didn't escape him; it was his job to take people apart, and it was hers to put them back together. What a pair they made. He'd told her very little about what he did, just enough to convince her to run if she so desired. But she hadn't. Possibly she thought she could save him, possibly she was just lacking survival skills. Whatever the reason, she'd continued to meet with him.

[Jessari]

After a few minutes, once darkness had completely drenched the forest, Abram pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. As he waited for the beep, he began to pace. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his gut. "This is Abram. Call me, Annie. I'm-"

Abram!

Abram froze, phone still held to his ear. Asher? He was used to his twin sounding sad or lackluster - he couldn't recall the last time he'd heard him sound happy - but now the notes of urgent desperation had the hair standing up on the back of his neck. What-

Go to Antoinette's house.

Ash-

Abram, now!

[Jessari]

He took off at a dead run, feet pounding the forest floor at a quick tempo. He mentally ran through his entire repertoire of swear words and made a few up, cursing himself for not being born with the ability to teleport like Asher. He didn't even want to think about why Asher was in such a panic, or how his brother even knew Annie's name. All he knew was he had to get there as quickly as possible.

Asher, what's happening?

There was no response. Bolting from the woods, Abram swung himself onto his motorcycle and sped down the road. If anyone dared try to pull him over, he swore he'd put a bullet through their chest. Annie, please be safe. Please.

[Jessari]

When he pulled up behind Annie's blue convertible, Abram didn't even take the time to put down his kickstand, instead letting his motorcycle fall to the blacktop with a crash. He vaulted the gate, took the front steps two at a time. The door was open.

"Annie," he called, his footsteps loud on the hardwood floor. She wasn't in the kitchen, or the living room, or any of the other rooms on the main floor. The feeling of wrongness grew stronger as he mounted the steps to the second floor. His fingers went to his hip, wrapped about the hilt of his knife as he pushed open the bedroom door.

It was dark, the only light coming from a single lamp on the bedside table. And on the bed, Annie.

[Jessari]

Abram could smell the familiar tang of blood before he reached her. She lay sprawled upon the rumpled comforter, arms tied above her head and anchored to the headboard. Ugly slashes ran the length of her arms, blood running in crimson rivulets down her skin and soaking into the comforter. Her blond hair spread out beneath her, framing her pale face in a golden halo. Her pretty floral-print blouse had been rucked up to her chest, revealing a horizontal slash across her midriff that opened her from hip to hip.

He had seen much worse, had done much worse, but Abram found he couldn't breathe. "Annie," he croaked, kneeling beside the bed and reaching a trembling hand to her face. Her skin had taken on a porcelain, ghostly cast, and he couldn't tell if she was alive or not.

[Jessari]

"I'm sorry."

Abram's head jerked up, silver eyes focusing on the figure standing in the shadows in the corner of the room. It was Asher, standing in the stiff manner he had which made him look like a life-sized cardboard cutout someone had propped up and abandoned. He had none of the nervous mannerisms people often exhibited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other or fiddling with his hands. He was Kolya's puppet, his body completely under the demon's control, and even when Kolya allowed him freedom of movement, Asher often forgot how to act like a normal human being.

Being Abram's twin, Asher looked almost exactly like him. He had the same short, dark hair, the same tanned skin, the same muscular build. The only difference was the glowing yellow eyes Asher had inherited from Kolya, the demon blood having come through stronger in him than in any of the other brothers.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice quiet and empty of emotion, although Abram didn't doubt the sincerity of his words. "Kolya- Kolya wanted me to bleed her slow. He wanted her to suffer."