(AN: I'm a writer, not a historian. I tried to base this story on reality as far as possible, but I am giving advance warning that there might be anachronisms, changes in history, and plain old mistakes.)

St. Petersburg, 1905

"Vengeance is what I do, Halfrek. I don't need anything else. Vengeance is what I am."

There were muffled screams coming from far below the palace hall, but the two sitting at table with a coterie of corpses by their sides did not pay them any attention. There were none left alive inside, creating the comforting feeling of being sheltered on a winter's night while the wind roars ineffectually outside. The pair was laughing contentedly.

"Oh, what a lovely idea, Anyanka!" cooed Halfrek. "I always knew you were a vengeance demon extraordinaire!"

"It'll take some work, but I'm optimistic," replied Anyanka, "After all, the upper echelon of Paris contains one of the highest percentages of spurned women in the world. Dozens of vengeance demons have tried to help them, but the ladies cling so tightly to their elitism. They won't say two consecutive words to someone of a lower station, and certainly not gossip. If I could crack their clique, hear and grant their hearts' wishes..."

"Besides," Anyanka added, leaning over to stroke the forehead of a young lady's corpse. "Little Anastasia and I have so much in common..."

"Good luck," whispered Halfrek as Anyanka disappeared. "Make D'Hoffryn proud... and make me proud." A corpse that had been leaning against Anyanka's chair fell to the floor with a thud.

Anyanka found herself on precarious footing on the edge of a bridge. She hadn't been this careless in almost a century! The dirty water of a river danced below her. Windmilling her arms to regain her balance, a hand grabbed the back of the skirt of her gown and pulled her back.

She fell into the arms of a young man, dressed simply and poorly in a dusty white shirt and black pants that were almost gray from wear. Despite his apparent poverty, he had a healthy, handsome face, with a great intelligence shining behind his eyes, a combination that usually indicated a life of theft.

He said to her, "You are far too pretty a creature for me to let that old river have you. Now. What would make a lady such as you want to throw herself... Anyanka." He dropped his romantic tone as he recognized her and hastily set her on her feet. "Spurned, eh? I always knew that one day you'd fall in..." He cleared his throat as she folded her arms and gave him a serious stare. "Love." he mumbled. "So what were you doing on that bridge?"

"Teleporting. I... was... that is..." she said as she tried to think of a lie Changing the subject, she said, "You looked mortal, Alexandre."

"Then I'm doing my job," replied the vengeance demon. Then, a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "You were doing a long-distance! You were teleporting to a new place without knowing the lay of the land. Wait 'til the boys hear about this one. D'Hoffryn's favorite little lady, screwing up!" he laughed.

"You do, and I'll tell about the time you cursed Maid Marion with a life of crime, and she ended up happily-ever-after with Robin Hood!" replied Anyanka fiercely.

At that, Alexandre backed away quickly, both figuratively and literally. "Please. It's embarrassing enough as it is, that the mortals know about it... Well. What brings you to Paris?"