Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, zip. My OCs own me.

07

Arista's Apartment, 16th arrondissement, Paris

The following evening, Arista led Blaze up the stairs to her penthouse apartment overlooking the Palais de Chaillot. They were laughing loud, whilst all the little people in the building's communal parts started at them. Arista keyed a code into a backlit black panel on the front door to her pad, and then preceded Blaze into the apartment. Blaze had been in a lot of pied-à-terre's over the years, but none like this.

Black crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceiling roses, whilst the crimson pile of the carpet was so deep it nearly swallowed Blaze's feet. A black marble fireplace contained real firewood, whilst as plasma screen TV was pinned to the chimney breast. Two red leather chaise longues boxed in the fireplace, opposite either side. The box was topped off with no less than a gilt throne with red cushions. Other rooms opened up through black lacquered doors, whilst the window was shrouded floor-to-ceiling in Moroccan velvet drapes. Blaze found the room extravagant and not entirely welcoming.

"Could you do the honours kitten?" Arista asked, tossing her fake fur stole down on the nearest chaise longue. Blaze snapped her fingers and the firewood in the hearth burst into flames. Arista looked slightly flabbergasted. Knowing someone was pyrokenetic was not the same as seeing fire come out of nowhere on demand. "So, um, what d'you think is the biggest inferno you've caused?"

"I burnt down a whisky distillery," Blaze replied, "that was pretty impressive." Arista didn't know what to say to that, so Blaze continued, "You're sure you don't mind me staying here?"

"No sense in you paying to stay in that dump of a hotel when I've got all this room to myself."

"Great," Blaze smiled, getting a better grip on her suitcase, "can I lend your shower please?"

"Sure hon, its second door on the left. I'll rustle us up some munchies whilst you're gone." Blaze smiled her appreciation and left the living room. Arista maintained the pretence for a few moments, just in case Blaze came back. Then the false smile fell suddenly from her face. Age, weariness and disillusionment vied to make her seem haggard and uncouth. Without saying a word, Arista slipped out of the living room by another door.

The room she entered was pitch black, expect for a small yellow lamp in a distant corner. The drapes were drawn, and not even a slip of the streetlights outside oozed in around the edges of the window frame. There was an overwhelming smell of sickness and desecration lingering like a mist. The room was dominated by an obtuse four poster bed. Someone was in the bed, lying still enough to be a corpse behind muslin curtains that stirred as if they had a life of their own. In a frantic whisper, Arista addressed her bed-ridden guest.

"Astarte, my queen, my goddess, you must rise. I've brought you another mutant girl, just like you asked. You can't afford to be fussy any more. This is your sixth; she's powerful and spirited. Please Astarte, your host is dying, you must take Blaze now or you'll die too…"

Blaze was stood with her face turned up into the flow of streaming water from Arista's shower. Her brown eyes were closed, her mouth open to the water. Long fingers ran backwards through her tangled hair. Through the patter of the water all around her, she did not hear the bathroom lock be slipped. The door opened silently. Blaze shook her head, gasping a little in the water, bracing herself against the tiled cubicle wall with her hands. A shadow passed across the steamed up mirror over the washbasin, but Blaze didn't notice. Letting her hands fall to her side, Blaze rolled her shoulders in their sockets, feeling the warm water massaging away the tension in her neck.

Out of nowhere, a dry, bony hand shot out and grabbed Blaze by the throat, pulling her back into a rough embrace. Blaze didn't have time to react as her feet slipped on the wet tiled floor. There was a sudden flash of pain as something cut deep into the flesh of her neck. Whatever had been holding her suddenly collapsed like a sandcastle before a wave. With nothing supporting her Blaze slipped further, hitting the body of her attacker and then the floor, hard. She tried to cry out in pain and found she no longer had control of her own tongue. Another presence supplanted her in her own body, casting her aside like an unwanted garment. Vile and angry, sinister feelings poked and clawed at Blaze as this new presence exerted its dominance. Deep inside her own being Blaze screamed, but no noise passed her lips.

"Blaze! Blaze don't fight it, don't fight her," Arista charged into the bathroom and knelt on the wet floor, lifting Blaze's head into her lap. Blaze's eyes were open, but they looked only inwards. A succession of violent tremors passed through her naked body. "It'll be over soon, hon, don't fight it," Arista continued to reassure the mutant. Suddenly the whites of Blaze's eyes flared a luminous yellow, and she lay still. "Blaze…"

"No," a voluminous voice echoed around the bathroom, resonating off the tiles, making Arista wince. "She is no longer in control of this body. Help your goddess to rise, slave."

It was not a request. Arista was taken aback, but she did as she was asked. Astarte, the Goa'uld who had taken possession of Blaze's body, held herself regally. She looked with distain down on the empty shell of her old, withered host. "Dispose of this body as you did the others," Astarte instructed Arista. "I must recuperate from the transition." The Goa'uld made to pass Arista and leave the room, before the transvestite called her back.

"Astarte, my goddess, about my service to you…"

"Continue to serve your goddess with such diligence and respect, and you will earn your reward," Astarte told Arista in a voice more menacing than reassuring. Arista snapped her mouth firmly shut, knowing a rebuke when she heard one. Astarte let slip a small, cold smile and left the room. Arista reached over to turn the shower off, before beginning the task she was becoming all too familiar with; disposing of the latest corpse Astarte had left her with.