Four

The Anarch's were not happy with Miriam, her voices pieced that together the moment she stepped back into the Last Round. The glares in her direction, the snarl from Damsel who had quite seemed to like her up until that point, and Helter Skelter who had always been pleasant to her.

"You've got some nerve coming back in here," Skelter started, his eyes narrowed at her as she approached where he was standing.

"We didn't intend for this-"

"Sure, Malk, I'm not going to pretend to understand what the hell goes on in your mind," he interrupted, the anger evident in his voice so strongly that she flinched, "But you might want to give thinking a try next time you get a blood hunt called on someone."

"No lies passed from our lips, we saw the Numbered One at the mansion," she protested.

"Coming from someone who was recently caught talking to a stop sign, that's not exactly reassuring." Skelter sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose for a long moment before shaking his head and looking at her once more. "For what it's worth, I don't think you'd do something like this on purpose, but there's a lot of Anarch's in this city who won't see it that way. Shitload of people around here owe a lot to Nines, you better lay low for a bit."

"Where is the Numbered One?" A frown graced her features, the brief annoyance she'd felt towards the blue eyed man disappearing to be overwhelmed with concern for his wellbeing. She felt like she didn't know what she'd do if she never saw him again, which was pretty ridiculous but she couldn't stop the worry throbbing in her head. She was missing the scent of his blood already, what if she never smelt it again, never saw the eyes, never-

Hands smacked her head, beating herself to rid the thoughts running amok in her mind and she'd probably been whispering maniacally to herself because Skelter grabbed her wrists, pulled her arms to her side and stared at her with eyes wide in alarm.

"Woah, kid, calm down, he's just gone into hiding for now. It'll be alright."

"No, it won't! We need the blood, need it in our veins again, need to feel the taste on our tongue! Precious, precious! Where is he? We must protect the crystal blue eyes, keep them safe!" She was screaming now, her mind breaking and running in circles, every voice battling with each other, none in control, madness consuming her and then she was on her knees, hands pressed to her ears as she yelled, her voice barely coherent.

"What the hell is going on?" Another voice chimed in, it sounded female, Damsel?

Miriam wouldn't see them, she refused with her eyes squeezed shut, her speech erratic and crazed as she repeated, over and over, "Numbered One! The blood, the blood! We need it!"

"I think she bonded to Nines when she was his ghoul," Skelter murmured.

Damsel muttered a curse. "Get her in the back room, we need to restrain her before she hurts herself. God, why did she have to be a Malk? The fuck are we meant to do with a kook that's having a total mental breakdown?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Damsel."

o0o

Hair and clothes too dirty, he knew he'd been hanging out in that park for a couple of days too long. Vampires didn't sweat the same as humans did, but Nines still felt dirty, muddy and his clothes covered in dust from sleeping in that abandoned observatory all day long. He'd been careful returning to town, but he trusted Jack when he said they'd be safe in his run-down hotel in Hollywood, if only for a few hours.

His boots clacked on wooden floorboards as he climbed the steep steps, billows of dust erupting around his ankles to join the dirt already covering his clothes. When he reached the room upstairs, he found Skelter, Damsel and Jack standing in the room, muttering to each other – and their crazy Malkavian girl on a bed, asleep, her arms folded over her chest with a needle in her.

"You shouldn't be back here," Skelter started and Nines shrugged softly.

"I'm aware. Damsel said it was important, though, so I expect the risk to be worth it."

The woman in question shoved a finger towards the Malkavian. "The kook's bonded to you, Nines."

If his features could have paled to match the dread in his stomach, they would have. "That's... going to cause problems."

"No shit." Damsel sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair. "She had a total breakdown when she realised you were gone, we had to sedate her before she started beating herself up with her own hands."

"How long before my blood works it's way out of her system?" Nines asked softly, frowning as he glanced at the girl.

"Well, if she was a ghoul it shouldv'e worn off by now, but she isn't, so..." Skelter shrugged helplessly. "Who knows? She seemed to have it under control though until she realised you were gone, not like other bonded ghouls who spend every waking minute thinking about their masters."

"I'll wake her up and talk some sense into her," Nines replied, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. "She obviously had enough willpower to keep this under wraps until now, if she can wrangle some fragment of sanity into her mind again I don't see why she wouldn't be able to keep going as she was before."

"Alright." Damsel stepped towards the girl, ripping the needle out of her arm. "She's pretty doped up on sedatives so it'll take her awhile to come round." She cast a glance at Nines, her nose wrinkling. "You look like shit, you should take a shower in the meantime."

"Thanks," he replied dryly, but he wasn't going to argue her suggestion.

o0o

It was blissful to wash the dirt and grime out of his hair, he'd forgotten what it felt like to be clean. Fingers trailed through messy dark hair, working out tangles and knots, scrubbing away the mud and blood caked onto muscles from where he'd been forced into feeding on animals to survive during his exile. Drying off most of the water he shrugged into his jeans, gathered his top and jacket in his arms and slipped out of the small bathroom to wonder if the girl was awake yet. He found her crouched on the bed, a hand to her forehead as she blinked slowly away the heavy sleep she'd been under.

"You alright, kid?" he asked as gently as he could, sitting down beside her on the bed and sweeping wet locks of hair out of his face.

"We aren't sure. Perhaps? Maybe?" She groaned softly. "The mind is very fuzzy."

"It'll wear off. Damsel doped you up because you were having a psychosis."

"We remember this..." Yellow and blue eyes glanced up at him, narrowed under a gentle frown. "Several of our voices were concerned that you were gone. Others were less so."

"I know, I need to tell you something." He explained it as best he could, how he'd seen her in the bar when she was still a human and hoped to erase her memories of what she'd seen rather than have to kill her. Of how they'd both been hit by the car together and he'd taken pity on her, saved her life by making her a ghoul but that he'd honestly never expected to see her again – and his surprise when she'd wound up back in his life once more, although significantly less sane than the first time he'd met her.

Eyes widened in understanding, then a gentle bite at her lip before she murmured, "This explains why we knew the smell of your blood when we saw you using the boom-stick on the sabbat."

"It'll wear off eventually, kid." I hope, he neglected to add. "Just try and keep your mind in one piece until then, the Camarilla won't hesitate to put you down if you start making a habit of falling into psychosis at the slightest provocation."

"Our mind has not been in one piece since the fangs feasted on our blood, but we will try and keep the pieces working together."

"I suppose that's the best we can ask for from a Malk," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Pushing himself off from the bed, he turned to grab the rest of his clothes, but hesitated when cold delicate fingers curled around his wrist.

"Numbered One," she whispered, "Wait."

A glance back at her, cool blue eyes raking over her body for the briefest of moments and he lied to himself that he hadn't felt that small fiery burst of heat in his blood when he saw the look she was giving him. Was he falling for the same damn curse he'd pushed into her veins? God, he hoped not.

"I have to go, kid-"

"We want you." She was on her feet in one fluid motion, pulling him towards her, wrapping her cold arms around his neck and closing the distance between them with a firm kiss on his lips. Stunned for seconds, he stood there, arms hanging in the air as he tried to wrap his mind around what he should be doing, trying to convince himself that she wasn't really doing this of her own will but rather his blood flowing through her.

Then, he snapped, a fire burning up inside his cold dead heart and he grabbed at her waist, choked up on a desire he hadn't felt in decades and he was pushing her lips open, running his tongue over her fangs until he found her own and drawing a moan from her throat. He pushed her back down against the bed rougher than he'd intended, but the beast welling up in his mind was making him irrational and heavy handed and he was running his hands over her body, tugging at unwanted clothes and buckles until a small, fleeting semblance of sanity wormed it's way into his mind.

It was abrupt when he pulled back, a hand quickly covering his mouth to hide and wipe away the blood that was staining his lips from where he'd sunk his fangs into her lips, but she didn't look like she cared, her pupils so dilated with lust he couldn't see the gold or blue in her eyes any more.

"We thought about this for many many hours and days," she gasped after several moments.

"You only thought about this because you bonded with me when I made you my ghoul," he muttered offhandedly, trying to convince himself as much as her that this was an involuntary and annoying curse he had to suffer through until it wore off. "It'll pass, just try and keep your emotions in check until then."

He turned to leave, made for the door and he wished he hadn't heard what she whispered as he did so, wished she didn't have her damn insight and chose to believe it wasn't true.

"It won't be singing that song the next time we see it."