Okay, I lied. Dinah's background is going to be a three-parter. I really didn't intend for her story to be so long, but it just got away from me. I hope you guys like it anyway!


Dinah had made it home safely, but didn't bother to change into her nightclothes. She tried to grab a few essentials and throw them into a suitcase she'd taken from her parents' home when she'd left all those years ago. The thought of her parents made her stop midstep. The skirt and hairbrush she'd been holding fell to the floor as she brought her hands to her mouth to stifle her cries. Her parents had never loved her as a mother and father should love a child. They'd always preferred her older brother, their firstborn, their planned-for child, over her. She sat on the edge of her bed as long-repressed memories bubbled to the surface of her mind.

She recalled the first time she'd run away. She'd only been ten years old then and she'd had enough. Her mother constantly degraded and verbally abused her, her father outright ignoring her as if she weren't even in the room. She'd packed a suitcase and left their home in the morning, but returned two days later after having been picked up by the police. The officer had walked her to the door and stood beside her when her mother answered the bell. The woman hadn't even known her daughter had been missing. She'd just yanked her inside and shut the door in the cop's face. Dinah had been punished by not getting her dinner that night…or the next. For not wanting her around, her parents had always looked for some way to punish her for something.

Dinah had left her parents and her brother for good less than a week after that incident. She'd remembered the deli shop owner a few blocks away who'd always been so nice to her whenever she'd gone there with her mother. His name was Paul, and he'd always had the warmest, biggest smile on his face whenever he'd see her. She'd appeared on his doorstep behind his shop. She must have looked rather pitiful since he'd simply taken her in without another word. His wife, Rosa, had been a stern woman, but she had treated Dinah better than anyone related by blood. She'd been made an apprentice to them, learning the trade from the inside out. Those had been the happiest years for her.

Until she was seventeen and the Cosa Nostra decided they wanted in on the profits. Paul and Rosa had flat out refused to hand over their hard-earned money. That had been their biggest mistake. Dinah had been out on an errand for Rosa when the gunmen came to the shop. When she'd returned, she'd found police and onlookers swarming the shop, the smell of blood and ozone nearly making her vomit right then. She didn't cry that night, the shock still setting in as she realized she was once again alone in the world. The tears wouldn't come until three days later as she sat in the empty home. She had no one to love her, no means of supporting herself, nothing at all. She couldn't go back to her family, had no friends to turn to.

She'd broken down on the floor and cried until her eyes had gone dry and her throat burned. She'd forced herself to stand up, gather what little she could (including a photo of Paul and Rosa that they'd had taken the day they opened their deli; it had always sat on the table in the living room and always made her smile when she saw how happy they'd been to start their own business), and walk out the door without a backward glance.

Even now, as she sat on the edge of her bed, she stared at the photo of Paul and Rosa. She tried to let herself remember the good times, the times she felt like she was actually wanted by someone. All she wanted was to love and be loved in return; was that really such an impossible request? She looked up and around at the apartment Donald had set her up in when they'd become involved. It was a nice place, better than the rat hole she'd been in before, but she needed to get away from it. Once again, she needed to start her life all over from scratch. The thought should have terrified her, but after doing it twice before, she could handle it.

She let out a long sigh as she ran her fingers through her hair to tame it and lay back on the bed. Starting over could wait until she'd had a nap. She couldn't deny she was exhausted; her brain needed just a few moments of rest to not think, to let everything drift away for a while. Keeping the photo of her foster parents close to her heart, she curled onto her side and let thoughts of the mysterious Jerry character fill her mind in an oddly soothing manner. Perhaps in the turmoil of everything that had happened that day, he was the closest thing she had to a distraction. Who was he really? Where did he come from? His fathomless eyes and boyish smirk were the last things she saw in her mind's eye before sleep claimed her.

Jerry had waited in the speakeasy for a few hours after Dinah had left. Something about that woman intrigued him. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't screamed when he'd revealed his nature, or that she still tried to blow him off even after she knew what he was, or that she had a dark streak in her that could rival his if nurtured properly. Sure, the smell of freshly spilled blood that surrounded her had gotten his attention at first, but there was something else to her that kept him from simply dragging her out the back door and ripping her throat open. Besides, after three hundred years on his own, he'd begun to think about finding himself a companion. He wanted someone who could match him in every way, not merely some underling; he'd had those in the past and they never worked out well. But Dinah, she could be so much more.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Jerry slipped from the bar unnoticed. Dinah had said he could visit her if he found where she lived…not exactly a challenge. All he had to do was follow the delicious perfume of blood she wore so flawlessly. She might as well have painted a bright yellow line behind her as she made her way home. He followed the scent trail three blocks over, four down until it led him up the stoop of an apartment building. Public buildings never proved any trouble for him to enter, and now with Dinah's earlier invitation neither would her private residence. He licked his lips at the thought of being able to freely cross the threshold to her.

Jerry continued up three flights of stairs until the scent disappeared behind a door numbered 309: Dinah's apartment. He took a deep breath of the fading smell, his eyes closing in pleasure. He raised a clawed hand to the doorframe and dragged a single finger down the wood, leaving a deep groove as the only evidence of his restraint. The simple lock proved no match for his unnatural strength; he merely twisted the doorknob hard enough to break the deadlock clean in half. His steps were quiet as he slowly passed through the doorway, the usual wards that prevented his entrance from any other home no longer a barrier to him. He barely looked around the room as he made his way down the short hallway to the source of the scent, to Dinah.


Next up, Jerry makes his move!