Into the Fire

by The Angels Will Always Cry

'"Em." Malik said, peering over her shoulder. The Nightmaster had to be here somewhere. "Where's the Nightmaster?" he asked. His little sister stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, the corner of her lip curling. "Give me the ring, brother." Emarni said.' SEQUEL TO INTO THE DARK Ingrid/Malik, OC/Chloe, Bertrand/OC. [CHAPTER NINE UP]

4. Chapter Four

Long chapter, wooooooooo. Sorry that it took a while to write and that there is slightly too much Emrand... So, yeah. Demons are controlling death, Nia has found Emarni's locket and Ingrid goes to visit Vlad at his school. My brain is messed up. I don't have anything else to say except ALLONS-Y!

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

He wondered if she was awake yet and if it would be weird for him to wake her up. He had been awake all day, reading books in a phenomenally large library. It made him wonder if Emarni liked to read and why she would want such a large library. And where on earth did she get all the books? She must have been here a fair amount of years and yet it had taken ages for him to find her.
"Clever girl." Bertrand murmured, flicking through a book on shapeshifting. He could've sworn that he used to have an identical one.
"Master Bertrand." a boy in a mask said, "I didn't know you were in here." He looked taken aback as if nobody was normally found in the library. Perhaps nobody did- Bertrand had never seen anybody go into the library before, now that he thought about it.
"Is Emarni awake?" Bertrand wanted to know.
"Perhaps." The boy shrugged, "She has a highly irregular sleeping pattern. You can wake her if it's urgent."
"It's not urgent, I just wanted to fix her ankle." Bertrand said. He had found a medical kit and if her ankle wasn't fixed, it could get much worse. Also, he sort of wanted to see her. Just to say good morning.
"I'm sure she'd enjoy that." the boy smiled like he was sharing an inside joke.
"What on earth do you mean?" Bertrand looked down on the boy. The boy was edging towards a bookshelf, glancing at it hopefully.
"Miss Emarni has certainly taken an interest in you." The boy said, "The last time she had a visitor, she didn't take to them well."
"The last time?" Bertrand frowned. He thought he was the first to find Emarni but... He was the second? Somebody out there was more intelligent than him.
"It was a man. Called Grayson." the boy said, "Miss Emarni flew off the handle."
"Grayson?" Bertrand tried not to sound too shocked but failed. He had known Grayson well- they had been friends for a while. The last time he had seen him was three years ago.
"She drove a stake between his shoulder blades." the boy said. Quickly, he snatched a book from a shelf and rammed it up his shirt. He looked nervous.
"Miss Emarni doesn't normally let people in here." he confirmed Bertrand's suspicions.
"Why ever not?" Bertrand said, looking around. The library was old and worn, like the own creatures allowed in were the spiders to spin the cobwebs. But it was beautiful too; with high arched ceilings, shelves full of books with names printed on the spines in gold, swirling writing and the candles that lit the room dimly smelt strongly like cinnamon. Like Emarni's hair. Wait, how did Bertrand know what the girl's hair smelt like?
"I don't know, Master Bertrand." the boy looked at Bertrand and then left, a book still rammed up his shirt. He left Bertrand to decide whether it was worth waking Emarni.

He walked up the stairs slowly, counting them as he went. When he reached Emarni's door, he paused before knocking gently on the door. Maybe she wouldn't hear him. There was a distinct murmur from inside. He took that as a "yes" or perhaps a "come in" and pushed the door open- it was a little ajar anyway.
"Hello Emarni." Bertrand smiled at the sight of her. She was flopped in the window seat, curled up like a cat- in all seriousness, was she part cat? Her messy curls were splayed around her face, her pretty eyes slightly open. Wait, why was he describing her eyes as pretty? They weren't pretty, just peculiar. A peculiar shade of green and almost triangular shape, specks of darker shades filling her irises. Weird eyes. Weird- not pretty- eyes.
"Did you sleep there?" Bertrand asked, smiling. The girl gave him a lazy nod and turned away from him. He stood awkwardly in the doorway and found his eyes drifting to the small of Emarni's back. Her shirt had been tugged up a little too high and the pale skin of her back was on show.
"I'm sorry to wake you." he added, trying to stop staring.
"It... It is fine..." Emarni yawned, "What can I... Do for you?"
"I was just wondering if I could bandage your ankle." Bertrand said, "To stop it getting worse." That sounded stupid. He sounded stupid. She probably thought he was stupid. Wait, why did he care what Emarni thought?
"It is probably healed by... By now. I am a vampire... After all..." Emarni mumbled, "Can I go back to sleep now?"
"Come on, Emarni." Bertrand said, "Up you get." And he lifted the girl out of her nest of cushions, one hand under her head, the other under her waist. His hand brushed against the bare skin of her back, enjoying how soft it was against his hand. Self consciously, Emarni tugged her shirt down a little and Bertrand found himself feeling disappointed.
"Blood and garlic." Emarni muttered, a smile tugging at her lips, "Your desire to play the hero is most amusing."
"Amusing?" Bertrand raised an eyebrow.
"Very." Emarni said. Carefully, he lowered her onto her bed and the girl sat up, staring at him intently. Her forehead was a little creased- she seemed more confused and innocent in the morning. Bertrand wasn't enjoying it and yet... It was sort of... Sweet? No! The man took the girl's ankle and began to bandage it, both of them watching.
"Did you sleep well?" Bertrand said, aware that his face was only inches away from the girl's. Up close, her hair smelt rather like burnt and blackened cinnamon. Dead cinnamon. Maybe she was the kind of person that set fire to cinnamon to watch it burn- if such a person could exist. Bertrand's brain was a little muddled on the matter of Emarni.
"What?" Emarni looked up and they smacked foreheads.
"Blood and garlic!" Bertrand exclaimed.
"Ow!" Emarni said, bursting into a fit of giggles. Still giggling, she leant forward and they brushed foreheads again- but more gently- as Bertrand tightened the bandage. He could feel her shaking with silent laughter.
"I... I slept... Poorly." Emarni said, once she had managed to regain her composure. Her curls brushed against Bertrand's face, mingling with his own dark curls. They tickled the side of his face and made him smile.
"Hm?" Bertrand said, glancing up at her. She was extraordinarily close, her hair and skin even touching Bertrand's own. He felt a little uneasy.
"Yes, I had an awful dream." Emarni said, edging a little away from the man.
"Involving what?" Bertrand felt oddly concerned and that worried him. He didn't care for Emarni, did he? It wasn't as if he actually liked her.
"It does not matter." Emarni shrugged. Catching her eye accidentally, Bertrand knotted the bandage and edged away from her a little. There was a shine of sadness in Emarni's eye.
"A problem shared is a problem halved?" Bertrand said. That was Cliché. For a second, Emarni's eyes just bore into him, eating away at his soul; up close, her eyes weren't just the same shade of green but flecked with darker shades too. The girl flopped back on her bed, throwing her arms out dramatically.
"Mother." she sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Elisabetta." Bertrand realised. He had forgotten that the shapeshifter was Emarni's mother; there was no resemblance between them whatsoever. Except perhaps the slightly crazed look in the eyes.
"She scared me as a child." Emarni said, "She was always locking herself away and she had a habit of lashing out when she was angry. She used to hit me." The girl sounded sad. And Bertrand realised something:

Emarni was horrible to her servants, the children that cared for her on a day to day basis. She would slap them or push them over, whenever she was angry or upset. She had locked herself away and shut the world out, only leaving the house to kill or feed. The fact of the matter was that Emarni was turning into her mother. So slowly that she hadn't even noticed. It wasn't the kind of thing that he could tell her.

"Mother was right." Emarni said, "She knew what she was doing." Those words made Bertrand feel sorry for the poor girl- her mother had definitely lead her astray.

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She forgot to give Emarni her shoes. That was one of the many things bugging Chloe. To anyone else, it might seem like a minor matter- it certainly didn't seem important to Malik, who laughed bitterly- but to Chloe it was important. They were the shoes that Emarni had been wearing the day she had gone missing. Chloe had found them in a gutter in Liverpool and that had given her hope. Hope that Emarni was nearby and okay. Now she knew for certain that she was nearby.
"I say we leave her to rot. We don't even know her." Ingrid said.
"She's your daughter." Malik snapped. He did a lot of snapping these days.
"She's a weapon not a child." Ingrid said. It had taken a long time for Ingrid to even refer to Seraphina as her- not it.
"Not this argument again." The Count sighed. He was starting to grow tired of his children's- well, Ingrid was his only child in the room technically speaking- endless bickering. What did it matter if the child was gone? She would be raised as a weapon, would bring down the Council once she came of age and that would be the end of it. Maybe Ingrid and Malik would get their child back afterwards- maybe. If they were lucky.
"Maybe the Nightmaster would give her back if we had something he wanted." George said, massaging her side. Since everyone else had been busy, she had pulled the arrow out herself and helped herself to the bandages in Renfield's medical lot, (Renfield had disappeared sometime over the last three years. Only George had noticed that he was gone initially, until The Count had decided that he wanted his boots polishing and couldn't find him. Renfield was probably either dead in a ditch or locked up in an institute.) She was a bit of a mess.
"Like what?" Malik said, "What would the Nightmaster want?" He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table. Ingrid reached across the table and touched his hand gently. It was a kind action for somebody who was always yelling at Malik for being an idiot- though he kind of was.
"Ingrid, can I talk to you?" Malik said. The pair of them pushed their chairs back and left the room, their hands still touching. They began whispered conversation outside the door, the same conversation they kept having. Malik wanted to know where they stood and Ingrid wanted to know why Malik hadn't given up on Seraphima.
"You haven't told them." The Count said, "I respect you for that, Branagh. You too, Giles."
"One day, they will find out that you were behind Seraphina being kidnapped." Chloe said; she didn't have to whisper because as always Ingrid and Malik had begun yelling at each other in the next room. Ingrid's voice was incredibly shrill when she yelled and George winced
"I just can't believe you lost her." George said, "You never asked who the contact was?"
"The less I know, the less I can be blamed for it." The Count said. The two girls scowled at him, offering him a look of annoyance. He was responsible for his own granddaughter being kidnapped but he had lost her somewhere along the way. The Count was such an idiot. Sometimes, it seemed that all Draculas were.
"When's Bertrand coming around?" Malik said, coming back into the room. He was rubbing the side of his face like he had been hit or something. There was a faint green tinge on his face- the demon blood rushing to his face, the same way human blood did when someone was injured.
"Why?" Chloe asked, "I thought you didn't like Bertrand."
"I'd like to talk to him, that's all." Malik shrugged; then, he added to confirm, "Yes, Ingrid did hit me and yes, she's now angry and prowling the streets for victims. Lock away your wife's, hide your children- oh wait." He rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair.
"Malik, can I test some new therapy methods on you?" Chloe said. She was working towards becoming a therapist and was taking a university course; the writing course hadn't worked out for her once Emarni had left. She had told them about when she had once studied Evil Cousin Olga, which appearently was her inspiration for her new career choice.
"What?" Malik grumbled.
"You're showing clear signs of depression." Chloe said, "Can I talk to you about your thoughts?"
"Shut up." Malik simply said in response. He disappeared and wasn't seen until the next night.

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Ingrid decided to go and pick up her baby brother out of the school and tell him what was going on. It sounded utterly crazy, (especially coming from Ingrid), but she really needed somebody to talk to. And there wasn't much option at home. The Count was horribly sexist and cruel to her on a daily basis; the little sympathy she had been offered after Seraphina's death, she had kicked aside. How she missed the offer of sympathy now. There was Chloe. Chloe, who had also experienced a lot of pain, but she didn't feel like she could talk to Branaugh. The girl had known her when they were growing up and they had never exactly got along. Whilst Chloe would probably be nice, it felt like giving in to talk to Chloe. It felt like admitting that she was upset. Ingrid didn't want to do that.
"Can I help you with something?" the woman at the desk said. She was a ghastly looking woman, probably being punished for some crime that she had committed, glaring up at Ingrid. She tapped her sharp nails against the desk, looking rather bored. Ingrid didn't blame her.
"I'm here to see my brother." Ingrid said. She probably could have spoken to George but the girl was nothing but a child. She wouldn't understand. But, Ingrid's brain argued, she has experienced a lot of pain. George had blinded herself and brought down one of the greater demons. She had lost her mother. She would understand. But she was still a child, a fifteen year old child. Not even with her full powers yet.
"Your brother is?" The woman said in a bored monotone. Rolling her eyes, Ingrid slammed a hand down on the desk. The woman jumped. Ingrid gave her a look that suggested the woman was stupid.
"You're Ingrid Dracula." The woman said, looking at her properly, "Vladimir's sister."
"The very same." Ingrid said. The only other person she could have talked to was Malik and there was no way she was going to talk to him about the problems with him. It would've ended with her screaming and Malik yelling. She was sick and tired of arguments. Vlad wouldn't yell at her.
"You'll probably find him hanging around the courtyard with his friends." The woman sighed, "Good luck finding him."
"I won't need it." Ingrid said, stalking away like a bird after prey.

Her brother was in fact in the courtyard and he was with his friends. He had friends! That was more than Ingrid had at the moment. Judging by the way that his purple haired friend had her tongue rammed down his throat, he also had a successful relationship. Another thing that Ingrid lacked. She watched for a few moments before going over. Students moved out of her way, some of them looking a little frightened as she passed. Good.
"Vlad." The purple haired girl pulled back, staring at Ingrid.
"What, Amy?" Vlad said, pressing a hand to her face.
"Isn't that your sister?" 'Amy' said. In that moment, Vlad almost shoved the girl off him and spun around to face his sister. His tired face broke into a smile and he stood up.
"Ingrid." Vlad threw his arms around her.
"Stop hugging me. Stop it. Stop hugging me. Stop it."
"It's been years. I missed you."
"I didn't miss you."
"Same old Ingrid."
"Old being the key word." Vlad laughed at that and Ingrid didn't. She just looked at him until he got message.
"You want to talk about something, don't you?" Vlad said, "You've got that look."
"I do not have a look!" Ingrid snapped. But her brother could read her expression perfectly and he gestured for her to follow him. He waved at 'Amy' and grinned. Ingrid pretended to retch in disgust.
"There's a graveyard." Vlad said, "Full of death and despair. The kind of stuff that you like. So... What brings you here?"
"I just wanted to talk to someone. And there wasn't anyone else." Ingrid said, "Not at home."
"What about Malik?" Vlad said, as they wandered across the courtyard. Various kids and adults alike offered them a mix of awed and confused looks. What's The Princess of Darkness visiting her brother for? Something big must be going on. That was what the pupils were thinking as they walked past. At least, it was what the red headed boy that was blocking the door thought. He said so.
"What about him?" Ingrid said coldly.
"You're not still arguing about Seraphina, are you?" Vlad said. That was when they were stopped.
"Well, if it isn't Count Dorkula." The red headed boy smirked. Why did everyone have such oddly coloured hair around here?
"Oh please." Ingrid rolled her eyes, "I used that insult when I was ten."
"And he's brought his big sister too." the kid snarled. That was it. Ingrid slammed the boy against the arched doorway, kicking the boy hard on the shin.
"Nobody brings me anywhere!" she snarled, her eyes turning pitch black.
"Ooh, scary..." The boy teased.
"Come on, Ingrid." Vlad tugged her out of the door.

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The next time Malik was seen, he was seen by Chloe. She found him sitting on the roof, rain hammering down on his head- it was late summer and the British weather was determined to ruin their unlives further. Malik was slumped forward, holding his head in his hands and massaging his temples like he had a headache. Rain was racing down his face and body, soaking him to the core. He looked depressed and Chloe wondered if now was the time for a therapy session.
"Malik! What are you doing?" Chloe called over the rain.
"What?" Malik yelled back, looking up at her. His eyes narrowed as wind and rain lashed against his face.
"What are you- oh, forget it." Chloe sighed. She glanced up at the howling sky and climbed out of the window, onto the roof. Grateful for her vampire sense of balance- which must resembled a cat's- Chloe walked over to Malik.
"What are you doing?" she yelled in his ear so that he could hear.
"Being alone!" Malik shouted back, "Until you turned up!"
"Sorry!" Chloe yelled, "But you looked lonely, that's all!"
"Ingrid hates me! Emarni's gone! Seraphina's gone too! What have I got left?" Malik demanded. He turned to look at her, his hair blowing in his eyes.
"You've got me! I'm your friend!" Chloe yelled.
"What?" Malik frowned over the noise of the storm.
"I'm your friend!" Chloe screamed at him. His eyes widened.
"I don't have friends!" he yelled back.
"Tough cookies!" Chloe grinned.
"What?"
"I said tough cookies!" Chloe frowned back at him.
"What?"
"Let's go inside!" Chloe shouted.
"What?" She took him by the arm and lead him back over to the hatch that lead to the attic. She gripped him tightly and luckily, neither of them slipped in the poor weather. Lighting crackled overhead, as Chloe worked the hatch open.
"Go faster!" Malik yelled, looking up at the storm a little uneasily.
"What?" Chloe teased him, succeeding in cracking open the hatch. She slid down the ladder and hit the attic floor with a thump, dust flying up in a cloud around her. Malik slid the hatch close.
"You're soaked." Chloe said, staring at the boy.
"Yeah. I noticed." Malik said, wiping the water from his face; he brushed his hair back and looked back at Chloe, "So are you." For a moment, they just looked at each other.
"Come here." Malik said, and he rubbed her face with the back of his hand. She was tempted to punch him hard in the stomach and splinter his ribs into a million pieces. But he would hit back and he would hit back hard. So, she let him dry her face with a combination of his hand and his sleeve.
"I don't like you like that." was all Chloe said, as the Vaccaria drew away from her. He had been too close to her for her to be comfortable.
"What?" Malik said.
"I just thought..." Chloe trailed off because Malik was looking at her like she was stupid; he raised an eyebrow, "I'm an idiot."
"I told you before." Malik said, "I don't like you like that either."
"So, you do like me." Chloe said, "Just not like that."
"I told you. You remind me of Emarni." Malik said, crossing his arms.
"How so?" Chloe said, in surprise. She had never compared herself to the Vaccaria girl, except to put herself in a negative light. Emarni was so much better than her in every single way; prettier, nicer, cleverer, in some respects at least...
"You're both blonde. You're both pretty- not like that, but..." Malik shrugged, "You've both got really nice eyes and you're both really nice. You both bug me a hell of a lot. But I guess you're smarter than Emarni. She's a bit stupid."
"She's not stupid!" Chloe protested.
"She can't write her own name properly." Malik said.
"She's your sister."
"Doesn't make her intelligent."

They were confronted by a fifteen year old girl wearing a thick pair of sunglasses with purple frames and her plaid shirt was a matching shade of purple. She stood with her hands on her hips and for some reason, Malik was reminded of Ingrid. He shook the thought from his head; Ingrid and George were nothing alike.
"Hey George." Chloe smiled at the younger girl, "What's up?"
"There's a girl at the door." George said.
"A girl?" Malik frowned in confusion. Somebody had found them. But how? And who was the girl?
"A girl. Human. Can't tell you what she looks like." George grinned, "I told her to wait on the doorstep."
"In the rain?" Chloe's eyes widened and she started down the stairs.
"It's probably a trap." Malik warned her, quick on her heels, "We can't let random strangers into the house, Branaugh."
"He has a point." George said, limping down the stairs. Her hand gripped her side like it was causing her pain. She winced every time she went down another step. Malik decided to ask her about that later and focused on beating Chloe to the door. He shoved her aside and grabbed the doorknob, then he paused.
"Open it!" Chloe said.
"No!" George yelped, "It could be a trick by the Nightmaster!"
"The Nightmaster wouldn't knock on the door!" Chloe rolled her eyes, "Not if he already knew we were here."
"He might. We don't know anything about him!" The Count said dramatically, joining the others by the door, "Don't open it, boy!"
"I have a name." Malik said.
"Yes, Malice or whatever." The Count said, "Now, come away from the door."
"Malik!" the other male snarled, "My name's Malik!"
"Oh, for satan's sake!" Chloe rolled her eyes and nudged Malik aside. She flung the door open.

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

There was a girl in Poland- they had lived in Poland for a few months, scarcely any time- that Anna used to be friends with. The girl was called Autumn and she had beautiful long auburn hair that fell down to her waist. She always wore it down and spent all her time stroking it like it was her pet. But the thing Anna really liked about Autumn was her admiration of romance. Autumn like to take photographs of people kissing. She had a scrapbook hidden under her bed, full of photographs. The girl also loved to dance, always twirling and leaping around whenever she went anywhere. She was the only friend that Anna ever had, even though she was a few years older. That was until Anna made friends with Nia. Kind of.

Nia was a lovely girl; a small, olive skinned girl with thin dark braids. She was originally from Egypt and had a bad habit of slipping into Arabic when she was speaking. The girl was about ten and practically worshipped Emarni.
"She's my mistress. She brought me inside and gave me a home. It's like having a mother." Nia said, when Anna had asked; suddenly, her eyes widened, "Oh my gosh, please don't tell her I said that!" Then, Nia carried on walking, laundry balanced in her arms. She didn't glance back at Anna.
"I think she's kind of mean." Anna said, traipsing after the girl. Nia was wearing a floor length white cotton dress, which was cinched in at the waist with a gold belt. Her mask was a matching white with golden swirls painted on the sides and around her dark brown eyes. When she walked up the stairs, Anna saw a flash of the girl's golden sandals and olive coloured ankles.
"She's not mean. She's hurt." Nia replied, turning to look at the girl, "I like your necklace." She was referring to the golden locket that swung around Anna's neck. The girl herself was very proud of it.
"It was my aunt's." Anna smiled.
"Can I see?" Nia put her laundry basket down and stepped down the stairs. She took the locket in her hand and peered at it- she looked as if she recognised it.
"What's on the inside?" Nia asked, fiddling with the locket. She couldn't open it.
"I don't know." Anna said, "It's rusted shut." The Egyptian girl gave Anna a strange look and turned away from her. She picked up the laundry and continued up the stairs. Soon, they came across Anna's father coming down the stairs.
"Hello Anna. And..." he pointed at Nia and gave up on thinking of her name.
"Nia." the olive skinned girl put in.
"Nia." Anna's father said, "Of course. How are you, Anna?" His daughter shrugged and Nia looked up at Anna's father curiously. She grabbed the locket from around Anna's neck.
"Where did you get this?" Nia demanded, almost choking the other girl.
"Anna's aunt gave it to me." Anna's father said.
"Your sister?"
"Her mother's sister."
"Your wife's sister?"
"She wasn't my wife. She nearly was though." Anna's father said and the servant girl turned to Anna.
"Anna, what's your aunt's name?"
"Don't you have work to do?" Bertrand snapped, suddenly. He smacked Nia over the head and the girl shut up abruptly. She was used to being slapped by Emarni, whenever she was in one of her moods.
"Of course." Nia curtseyed and continued up the stairs, leaving the De Fortunesa's behind.

Nia was certain that she had seen that locket somewhere before but she couldn't place where. Definitely somewhere in Emarni's house. She would have to ask Emarni about it. She knocked on the girl's door. There was a moan from inside and Nia took that as a polite "come in". Gently, she pushed open the door and went inside.
"Good night, Miss Emarni." Nia smiled. It had taken her a while to adjust to the vampire way of speaking- most of the words were swapped around- but she had managed it.
"Nia..." Emarni whimpered. She was lying on the bed, a miserable expression on her face. She must have fallen asleep again.
"Oh, Miss Emarni." Nia sighed. The girl didn't look in the mood for answering any questions.
"What's wrong, Miss?" Nia asked, putting her laundry basket down and going over to the girl. She sat beside the girl and helped the girl sit up.
"Bertrand keeps being nice to me and I am confused." Emarni said, "I do not understand." She looked at Nia pathetically with her big green eyes.
"What do you mean 'nice'?" Nia asked, picking up a hairbrush from the floor and brushing it through Emarni's messy curls. The girl yelped as the brush tugged at her hair and her servant apologised.
"He massaged my foot for me last me and said nice things to me." Emarni said, "When I woke up, he was here again. He had bandaged my ankle, look." There was indeed a bandage around her ankle, carefully tied so that it wasn't too tight or too loose. She stroked it like it was precious to her.
"Maybe he likes you." Nia said.
"No!" Emarni said, "No! No! No! No!"
"Do you like him?" Nia asked, brushing the girl's hair back. Pulling a hairband from her own hair, Nia began to pull Emarni's hair back into a braid. Emarni didn't say anything, which was odd because she normally protested if Nia did anything with her hair.
"Miss Emarni?" Nia said.
"He is very nice. Maybe he could be my friend. I have not had a friend before. Not a proper one." Emarni grinned, dimples showing in her pale cheeks. She looked at Nia and kept grinning. She hadn't looked that happy in years.
"A friend." Nia laughed softly, tying the girl's hair and brushing the loose strands back from her eyes.
"We bashed heads with each other." Emarni smiled, "That is how close together we were."
"Are you going to get dressed and come downstairs?" Nia said, smiling at the older girl, "Bertrand's in the library."
"Give me five seconds." Emarni said, grinning and getting to her feet. The servant girl smiled too and left the room. As she closed the door, she added:
"Wear something pretty." Then, she pulled it and locked it tightly; she had all the keys hanging on a chain. She needed Emarni out of the way.

Hopefully, Emarni would be out of the way long enough if Nia's plans worked out. It was exciting for the Egyptian girl who had never plotted anything before, let alone put plans into action. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her. Now, she had to get the locket and Anna out of the way. She found Anna sitting on the stairs, the locket still hanging around her neck. The girl looked conflicted, frowning at the door that lead to the library.
"Hello Anna." Nia said, "Can I ask a favour?" She didn't know if this was going to work, (it depended on how attracted Anna was to her locket).
"Depends." Anna said.
"I want to borrow your locket." Nia said, "Please?"
"What? Why?" Anna's dark eyes widened.
"Um..." Nia said. She hadn't got that far. Then, she went to plan B and grabbed the girl by the arm.
"What are you doing?" Anna squealed, as Nia shoved her backwards. She ripped the locket from around the girl's neck, breaking the rusted clasp.
"Hey!" Anna protested and Nia shoved the girl into a cupboard. She locked it, using the key already in the door. She slid the key onto her chain.
"Nia! Nia! Nia!" Anna screamed, "Father, help!"
"I'll let you out later." Nia whispered, "I'm really sorry." And she went to lock Bertrand away.

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

She arrived at the Dracula house, which Emarni had planned out on a pin board, and recognised it instantly. A big house, a bit bigger than Emarni's. She hadn't had time to be casual about bringing the locket here- The Draculas would be moving soon. She had thought up a plan, grabbed the locket and left. No waiting around like Emarni did when she was planning. She didn't have enough time for a better plan. Nia was soaking wet, from head to toe, the wind playing havoc with her hair. Her eyes stung from the wind blowing into them, peeling her eyes open and holding them there. Her sandalled feet were dripping wet, the hem of her dress damp and muddy. She knocked on the door, her teeth chattering. There was a long wait before it was opened. The girl that opened it was easy to recognise as Georgina Giles. She was much taller than she was in the photo that they had and her hair was a lot longer. She was wearing sunglasses, probably to help protect her already damaged eyes. If she made it to sixteen, there was a chance that her eyes could healed. Nia knew this.
"Hello?" she said, looking around.
"I'm down here." Nia said, feeling small, "I'm here to see the Draculas? Preferably Malik?"
"Why?" George asked.
"I don't know if I can tell you." Nia said honestly.
"Wait here." George said, then she slammed the door closed. Nia had no way of knowing if the girl was coming back or if she was going to leave her out here. She stood there, listening intently to see if she could hear anything. She couldn't. The roar of the storm was much too loud. Rain was falling like knives, smashing into Nia's back and clouding her vision. She could only see the faint outline of the door in front of her and barely anything else. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and whimpered. It was so cold. So very cold. Now, she could faintly hear arguing. She wished that she had better shoes but she couldn't afford them.
"Oh, for satan's sake!" somebody exclaimed and the door flew open. Cold and shaking, Nia looked up at the Draculas- well, none of them were technically Draculas, except for The Count. Chloe was holding the door open, the wind tearing through her hair and blowing it out behind her. She was staring down at Nia in confusion, like she was expecting something or somebody else. Malik was just behind her and he was scowling. He and Chloe both looked soaked too, like they had just come in from the rain also. George was behind them, looking guilty for opening the door to a stranger. The Count stood behind all of them, trying to look threatening. But where was Ingrid?
"What do you want, child?" The Count demanded.
"I-I-I-I'm a f-friend of E-E-Ema-Emarni's." Nia spluttered, going with the first story she could think of, "A-a-at least, I w-w-was." That was a lie. She had never been Emarni's friend, only her servant.
"You know where she is?" Malik said.
"N-n-no." Nia stammered.
"Then, get lost!" Emarni's brother snapped at her, going to close the door.
"W-w-w-wait!" Nia tried to shout and it came out almost as quiet as a whisper. She pulled the locket from her pocket and held it up. Realisation flashed in Malik's eyes and he stopped where he was.
"That's the locket I gave to Elisabetta." The Count frowned, "How did you get it?" The girl was about to lie through her teeth, when Chloe provided a story for her.
"That's Emarni's locket, Count." she said, "The girl-" It was Emarni's locket! Nia knew she had seen it somewhere before! Not on her mistress but Emarni did have a picture of it. She had spoken of it, just once before. She said that she had tossed it away, back in Romania, and that she had always regretted it. She didn't know where it landed. But how had Anna come across it?
"Nia." the Egyptian child out in, "L-l-l-like Mia. But w-w-w-with an N?"
"Nia must've been given it by Emarni." Chloe said.
"B-b-before she w-was captured." Nia agreed. There was a pause.
"Come in, Nia." Malik said, quietly; The Count went to protest and Malik simply snapped at him, "No arguments!"

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

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- Angels xox.