Anything in bold is when Santana is controlling and planting her thoughts into others.

Also, imagine that everything spoken is in Farsi, not English.

Treasure

Iran, 1491

Michka (Santana) & Samira (Quinn)

Michka P.O.V

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't call in one of my men right now to slay you where you stand," Seraj says. I can't help but smirk. I could kill him before he even knew what was happening. Sadly, I do need his help.

"I can do better than that. I can give you five good reasons," I respond confidently.

"We'll see."

"Firstly, I did get past every single one of your men and into your tent," I reply. "That makes me the perfect thief. Secondly, I'm trained as a samurai. I doubt anybody else is trained as a samurai, which offers an entirely new fighting style that I doubt many are acquainted with around here." His eyebrow rises, amused and interested. There are quite a few amusing things about that statement. It's not often someone with samurai training is this young or in this area: Iran is quite a distance from Japan. Even more odd, I'm sure, is that I'm a woman trained as a samurai. Women can't be samurai. Not officially.

"How did a girl become a samurai? Surely these things don't happen in Japan. Women are to be protected," he insists. I hold back a scoff and a roll of my eyes. I'm not some helpless, fragile娃娃.

"I masqueraded as a man."

"Traitorous liar! How could I trust someone like you?"

"You're a thief," I deadpan.

"And as such I need to know I can rely on all of my men."

"I came to you as a woman, did I not? This is my truth." He concedes and I continue. "Third, I've worked as a royal guard for other kingdoms, which means I'm well acquainted with the way security works." He stirs ever so slightly, obviously raising his interest. "Fourth, you could use another man more than I could use you."

"You are not a man," he replies crossly. I knew I should've just continued on as a man. "And you came to me, not the other way around. I have been credited for stealing thousands. I do not need you." He is petulant and proud. Typical. I notice that he consistently uses I, taking credit for all that his comrades and him have done in one fell swoop.

"Fifth," I continue, slightly aggravated, "I could kill you where you stand before you could even call your guards."

I can immediately read his thoughts, not that I'd have to in order to figure out what he'd do next. Before he can even call out guards I use my super speed, just slow enough for the human eye, and cross the tent. I quickly draw my sword and stick the point against his jugular. With a quick, simple stab I could kill him right now.

He lets out a relaxed laugh. "You are rather good, for a girl. What devil did I pray to for you to be sent into my midst?"

I release my sword from his neck, sensing that he won't call his guards. "No devil, just a girl down on her luck who needs some money and a place to stay."

"I don't let girls into my midst."

"A thief is a thief."

"I don't let girls into my midst. Admittedly, you are rather skilled. Perhaps you would like to stay as a caretaker? My men could use someone to cook and pack up the tents?" Just the thought disgusts me. I am a highly trained samurai warrior. I've been around longer than he has. "My men do get rather lonely, perhaps you could offer us… something else in return for food, shelter, and protection." His gaze wanders my body hungrily.

Imagine her naked body from beneath those robes. I would ravish that body until the daylight strikes my camp. I would make her scream and moan for me as she begs for me to move inside of her.

I crinkle my nose at his foul thoughts. "No."

My voice penetrates his daydream, shattering it in moments. "You dare say no to me?" His voice rises in anger as he reaches for his sword.

"I don't want to be a disposable wife for your men. I want to be one of your men."

"Impossible," he responds. "Now, get out of my camp!"

I've walked the streets of Mosul, looking for Seraj. Through my travels of India and China Seraj's name was legendary. He was the man who stole thousands from the rich. He was the best thief in all of Asia. I didn't travel all this way, ask every passerby if they knew his location, go through one thousand and one booby traps, to come here and be rejected.

Concentrating, I begin to invade his thoughts, planting a seed of my own inside his head. My gender doesn't matter. You want to give me a chance to prove myself. If I make it, you let me join.

He looks back up at me, eyes as though in a daze, as he repeats my words back to me, "I've decided that your gender doesn't matter. I'm going to generously give you a chance to prove yourself. If you make it, you may join my ranks."

I smirk. "How generous," I say sardonically.

Giving me a dirty glare, he continues: "There's a fortress protected by some of the fiercest guards in the city. Beyond it, people say, lies a treasure even better than gold. If you can steal the treasure, alone, and return the riches will be divided among us all and you will be may join Seraj and his victorious vanguards."

"Where is this fortress?"

***Blood***

There are 10 guards surrounding this building. A single guard has gone in once in the last hour (give or take). There's somebody else inside, of that much I'm sure. I couldn't read his mind well he was inside, once anyone is out of my sight I can't read his or her minds anymore, but when he came out he was complaining about somebody inside. I assume I should be prepared for at least 2 guards inside. If there's one guard, he always has a companion.

There's about 6 guards posted outside the building, which is actually pretty slim if there really is a rather large amount of money in there. Therefore, I'm forced to assume they're probably some of the best guards that money can buy.

I've walked around the circular, temple-like building. There's only one entrance/exit. Two guards are posted on each side of that door. The walls of the compound are heavily fortified, not even my enhanced strength could break through that much concrete. There are a couple windows, but they're not large enough for me to crawl through. I could either throw a bomb through the window – which wouldn't work because it might destroy whatever's inside – or I could grab a rope from town, scale the building, and see what's inside. Neither option is helpful.

There's only one way in.

I focus in on one of the soldiers closest to the door. Immediately, his eyes meet mine. They're blank, empty, completely under my control.

The other men in uniform are imposters. Bandits trying to gain control of what's inside have stolen similar uniforms and stand next to you now, waiting to attack. You must kill them all.

The soldier blinks, dazed and confused. Immediately a wave of fear, shrouded by stronger anger, overcomes the soldier. He glares threateningly at his comrades, murder in his eyes, unaware that I have just influenced his thoughts. For a moment, as I stare into his unknowing green eyes, I feel a twang of guilt. When he wakes up from all of this he's going to have killed people.

I look away from the guardsman. I can't care about this random nobody right now. My life depends on this. I have no money. I'm wanted in too many countries. I need to make a new life. I need the skills that Seraj and his men have to offer and the money I'll bring in by working with them.

I watch silently from my bush as the impressionable man lifts the gun in his hands and begins firing against his comrades. He takes out the one standing nearest to him, close by the entrance. He wants to take out his most immediate threat. The bullet rips straight through his forehead.

The smell of blood breaks through the entire area.

The other soldiers recognize the sound of a gunshot immediately and react, astounded to find it's their fellow guardsmen. One of them shouts. "Nivrad, what are you doing?"

Nivrad doesn't respond, simply shoots his next target. His eyes are still blank canvases. The man narrowly avoids the bullet. The two spring into action while the other two, previously standing guard on the other side of the building, make haste to help their fellow guardsmen.

The guard who hadn't been shot at immediately attacks Nivrad, shooting off countless rounds targeted precisely. Nivrad is just as skilled as his other combatants, but against the other 4, he's simply no match.

I wait until the other two arrive. With their focus on Nivrad and the gun he's pointing lawlessly at them, I jump out from behind the bushes and easily slice through one of their necks with my sharpened blade of my sword. I've gotten used to the sound of flesh being cut by my metal.

Even more blood is gushing now that two of them have been taken down. It entices me. I want to stop and stick my fangs into his dead, pulseless neck and suck on the delicious red blood that had been running perfectly through his veins only moments before.

My instincts, although foremost focused on the blood, alert me of the precarious situation still facing me. There are still three men left.

I run towards the nearest guy. It was the man who had avoided Nivrad's second shot. Immediately, I engage in combat with him. My sword sweeps in a wide arc, nearly piercing his armor. He jumps back with his life to spare and a sword not drawn from its previous holster in his right hand. He throws his gun down by his side, recognizing that it's no good in close combat.

I wait for him to make the first move. His impatience guarantees that he will. He raises his blade and brings it down in a swift, fierce some arc that would've cut me diagonally across my chest. It wouldn't be a mortal wound like it would be on most humans, especially with this much blood around me to heal with, but it would inhibit my fighting abilities and still cause major damage. I easily block with an uncomplicated swish of my sword, our blades clashing with that sweet sound of metal on metal.

He tries to push on against my sword, but my heightened strength easily outmatches his as I shove him to the ground. I go in for the quick and easy kill, sending my blade straight for his neck, but he manages to whack my foil aside with his.

He jumps back on his feet with almost acrobatic skill. I can smell more blood. Someone else has been killed, or at least heavily wounded. I turn my head around to the other battle to see Nivrad failing against the others. As my attention is drawn away my opponent lunges towards me I avoid and counter his blade away from me. His wrist draws back, hoping for a second assault. As he focuses on targeting me, I kick his legs out from underneath him. As he falls to the ground I force my blade through his armor and pierce his back in a deadly blow.

His body immediately goes limp.

I consider drinking some of his blood just for the hell of it. It smells so damn delicious. It might even have some alcohol still tinting it. But I know I still have opponents left and that mild skirmish barely took any energy from me.

One of the other two men targets his gun on me as the other smashes Nivard's head into the fortress wall repeatedly. Successive shots are fired at me. Had I had the normal agility of a human I would've at least been nicked by a few of the bullets, but they were easily avoidable using my vampiric speed.

I can see the shock and fear in the shooter's eyes as I completely disappear from his vision. It's almost amusing to see his visage as I stab him through the back.

With the other man content that Nivrad will never rise again, he focuses his attention on me. Immediately he begins shooting at me with impeccable accuracy. I barely avoid his shots. I quickly outrun his shots and run my blade through him.

That was actually pretty easy.

I stop at his body, extending my fangs to attack his neck. He's AB-Positive. I could smell it.

Each blood has a specific taste, which affects their scent. O-Positive tend to be sugar-sweet, the candy of all blood types. The same goes for O-Negative except there's something a little bitter about the taste. As if underneath it all there might be some sort of poison, but there never is. All type A blood is spicy. It sets your mouth on fire and as the blood flows through your body it has the same reaction. Type A is the best kind for small jolts of energy, but it wears off easily. Type B is so bitter it's almost disgusting. It hits the back of your throat the same way alcohol does. Oddly enough the bitterness is what draws every vampire back every time. Type AB Blood is a mix of the two.

As the blood flows from his neck and into my mouth my taste buds are set on fire from the Type A and my throat nearly sore from the Type B. His has a little more iron in it than usual. I suck it in faster and faster. He's already dead, I might as well take as much as I want and tide myself over. Drinking blood is beyond any human food. It's as if I've been starved for 1,000 years and are finally given a bite to eat. It's this orgasmic, exhilarating, and makes you feel like you've just snorted the best Opium in the world. It's almost impossible to rip yourself away from.

But I do.

Thank god for my enhanced restraint. It would look too suspicious to leave a guard here completely without blood. The people of the town would know something was wrong.

Stomach full, I walk through the door.

I wasn't ready for what I found.

"Who… who is this? Who's there?"

It's her.

I was wondering when the curse would strike again with its beautiful pain.

She was… utterly astounding. Her skin was naturally tanned, but you could tell she barely ever saw the sun. You could see it in her veins. Her hair was covered by a deep purple hijab, but a few strands of midnight black hair had escaped the hood and hung near her face. She had the most full, plush lips that matched her full, voluptuous body. She was on the heavier side, I imagine it has to do wit the fact she looks like she's never been outside, but it made her more gorgeous if anything. She smelled like strawberries, vanilla, and mint. Still, the most remarkable thing about her were her eyes. They were the most gorgeous green, but that's not what made them so noticeable. They were wide… almost like they were unused.

"I demand you identify yourself at once. What is happening out there?"

"My name is Michka," I say, trying to keep a calm voice as not to startle her.

"You're a woman!" Surprise fills her voice.

"Yes," I respond, confused. Of course I'm a woman. I thought it was rather apparent based on my attire and physical features.

I sheath my sword.

"Are you here to murder me?" she asks fearfully.

"I am here in search of a rumored treasure, invaluable to the owner," I reply. I had not been anticipating this turn of events, any of it. What am I to do now?

"You're a thief?"

This isn't a very good first impression I'm making. "Yes."

"What happened to the guards outside?"

"They're dead."

"You killed them." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes." A look of disgust and horror crosses her face… and also happiness.

"They had families," she responds.

"I know."

"And names."

"Yes."

"And you killed them in the name of treasure?"

"Yes."

I wish I could lie to her right now, more than anything. I want to tell her I'm just a new guard, introducing myself as I relieve other from their duty. I don't want her to know me as this, as a murderer. I suppose now, at least, she'll see me for what I truly am. I am a coldhearted killer.

"Well… you're not exactly the hero I was looking for."

… Did she just say hero?

"I'm sorry, but what?"

"You're also not much of a thief either? You've only demanded to see the treasure once. You're allowing yourself to be rather sidetracked by my questions. Are you new to this?"

"What?" What is going on right now? I… I thought she would flee me or hide or perhaps stand to fight me, but this... this is not what I expected at all. I just admitted to being a cold-blooded murderer. Yet she calls me a hero?

"I always sort of imagined my savior would be… well, for one, male, but also more noble and valiant, not just a common thief. I'll take what I can get. Give me just a moment to grab something." She walks purposefully towards her bed, arms outstretched as if they were a safety net of some sort.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said the guards out there are incapacitated, yes?"

"They're dead."

"Yeah. I was also hoping my savor wouldn't be a killer. Nobody's perfect I suppose." She gropes around on the shelf, almost as if she were…

"Are you blind?"

She pauses for a moment, the happiness falling from her face. "Yes."

"Oh."

"You're a murderer and I'm blind. We're both degenerates."

"You're not a degenerate," I respond immediately. How could she have such a low opinion of herself?

"Darkness is my everlasting friend," she says in an over exaggerated, dramatic manner. It almost resembles a parody. "I long for the wings of freedom to set me free." She walks over to wear my voice had been. I make sure to walk towards her to help. "Please, save me," she says, gripping onto my shoulders as though she were a damsel in distress. She says it satirically, but I can tell that she truly means it. She's simply trying to hide behind humor.

"You… want me to save you?" I ask, still incredibly confused. "I don't understand."

"I've never been outside of my family's land. I want to explore the world, but my father thinks I need to be protected just because I'm blind," she explains. "Oh, rescue me, princess," she says, returning to her humorous pleas, falling theatrically in my arms.

What have I gotten myself into?

Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Every single one matters and makes my day to see in my mailbox. I'm going to try and update way more frequently now that summers around (no guarantees).

How do you guys like the flashbacks? I know I love writing them, but are they fun for you guys?