These chapter's are starting to get longer, but don't hold your breaths, they do go up and down a bit.

I haven't had any love/reviews/comments, so I'm getting a little worried that Living Death isn't appealing to the crowds. If you're liking it, just hit me up with a 'Chill out Jess, it's fine!' Or I will take it down again and re-write!

Also, I'm changing the rating down a gear until this heats up again, I think I may have been a little over-paranoid rating it M already. If you think this is a bad idea, just IM me and tell me so.

On we go again... Oh, and obviously, all characters belong to SM, they're not mine. Figure I should put that in here somewhere!

The girls started filtering in as I ate my breakfast. All greeted me with a good morning and quickly scattered upstairs to change. I was in awe at their outfits, they were all so beautiful. A few greeted me with a light kiss on each cheek. I let out a sudden and involuntary giggle when one of the girls breathed in deeply and moaned a light 'smells good', motioning toward my breakfast, which apparently smelt revolting to them after the performance Bree put on as I ate.

Bree threw the girl a pointed look. 'Ashlee, she knows.'

Oh, so this was the projector. I looked at her closely. Warm blonde hair, pale perfect skin, reddy-black eyes, perfect body. Same-old, same-old. But none the less stunning.

Then, they were all standing there within the time it had taken me to blink. They all eyed me curiously. With their red eyes staring straight at me, my heart skipped a beat, then I regained my mental strength and remembered they would never, ever, in a million years, hurt their own sister. I felt the worry just wash off, like falling asleep last night when I just nodded off. The calmness waved over me.

They all looked at me expectantly. Like I was about to jump out of the window.

'So, I know your secrets, but don't fret, I would never tell anyone.' My hand jumped up and covered my heart automatically.

A sister named Mary, who looked so innocent she reminded me of the Mary in 'Mary had a little lamb', looked at me quizzically. 'Why are you so calm? You should be catatonic! But instead you have this...' She smacked her tongue on the roof of mouth, then slowly licked her lips like she were tasting something. 'Sweetness about you'

'Bree didn't tell me anything, I knew about Vampires before. And what do you mean about sweetness?'

I somewhat understood, it was a gift, but what she did I wasn't certain of.

'Mary has a talent for tasting people's souls, good, bad, indifferent. And is also a bit of an empath '

'I'm not very good at the second one, but I feel the strongest emotions, calmness, anger, love, extreme exhaustion.'

I nodded understanding, and then it clicked. 'Oh, so it was you who made me sleep last night.'

She smirked proudly. 'You were so worked up last night with all of us pampering you. But deep down you were exhausted, I could taste it. It was numbing on my tongue, and I thought you deserved some decent rest.'

I thanked her for being so considerate and turned to Bree. 'So, are there any other gifts I should know about? No one can turn me inside out? Or read my most personal thoughts?'

Bree rolled her eyes. 'Alright, no more secrets. I tell you about our gifts, how we hunt and what we do, and you can answer some of our questions. We are intrigued by you Darlin'.'

I agreed.

'Well, obviously mine you know, Ashlee's and now, Mary's. Parker has the unique and annoying ability to put voices inside your head. It makes you think you're crazy if you don't know about it, but other than that, she's just a pain.' She smiled sweetly at Parker who knew could hear the humour in Bree's voice with her insult. 'Victoria can access your loyalty to another person. And her mate, James, is a tracker.'

'Tracker?'

Bree bowed her head once. 'He can find you, anywhere. He's very good.'

'Most of us have quirks that we're extra good at. Notably, we have Sian who can project out an illusion that changes her own appearance. And Olive, who has a connection with nature, can manipulate flora. They're all relatively harmless, maybe a little invasive. Our beautiful Juliet has the powerful gift; she has the ability to transpose the image their greatest fear in someone's mind through mental will alone.'

Juliet looked pained, as if Bree had reminded her of her gift that she'd all but forgotten about. Perhaps, she did.

I took a moment to comprehend the information before finishing my breakfast and sipping the water in front of me. 'Alright, I think I can handle that. Now, what do you eat?' Not that I hadn't already figured that out.

'What do you think?' Bree challenged.

'Blood, of course. I'm thinking human blood,' I said, nonchalantly.

'And you are?'

'Human.' I rolled my eyes. 'Are you trying to scare me? Because, it's not working. You're not going to hurt me. Victoria bought me in, gave me a home, a family. You are my sisters. Now, what do you eat?'

'Remember how I said I could taste a person's soul?' Mary interrupted.

I nodded quickly, eager for her continuation.

'Well, certain people have a taste to them, bitter and dirty; they have a black soul, and they are usually murderers or rapists. Sadistic people who want to torture their peers, there are more out there than you think. We target them. Cleanse the streets of their presence,' Mary explained.

'So, you take a life to save many more,' I rationalised.

She smiled widely and nodded.

'I understand that.'

'We don't like being monsters. The dark souls we consume make it easier to function around people. They're less human than we are. Our eyes reflect our diet, ours are what they are because we consume the blood of such people,' Bree added.

I looked into all their eyes. They were black with a hint of red on the rim of the eye that was then circle by a thin black line, keeping the red captured. With one exception.

I gasped. 'Parker!'

Her eyes were a bright red colour, not unlike the colour of human blood. And that's why a gasped.

'She had a slight slip-up,' Bree whispered.

I thought back. 'The singer,' I recalled. 'You killed a musician?' I asked, trying not to let any judgement lace my voice.

Parker laughed. 'No, he wasn't a musician, but yes, I killed a man.' She sighed. 'A singer is what our kind calls somebody whose blood is so irresistible that you lose control. You have to taste it.'

I nodded, she looked remorseful. 'He had no one, just a simple bum on the streets. I made sure it wasn't painful.'

I gulped down another mouthful of water, wondering when my life had turned around so drastically that I rationalised and eagerly discussed murder with the un-dead. I decided to change topic so I could concentrate for the rest of the day without murderous thoughts totally consuming me.

'Okay, shall we move on? What is it exactly what you do?'

Bree smirked, her sultry smile slowly widening as she went in for the kill. 'We're whores Darlin'.'

I almost chocked on my tongue. 'Excuse me?'

'Welcome to the brothel!' She laughed.

And everything clicked into place. 'No wonder this house is so lavish and totally gorgeous! And all the undergarments, you seem so comfortable in them. But how? I mean, don't you want to kill them all the time?'

'The burn for their blood is always there, but we control it. That's why we feed on the black souls. It keeps the murderous side of us in lock-down. And we all enjoy it, we have our regulars that are used to us and keep coming back for more.' Bree's eyes had been cast downwards as she talked, looking at the table instead of me. Quickly, she flicked her eyes up to me which I saw through thick black lashes. Even to me they were ever so mysterious. 'Besides, they can't resist our charm.' I could see how they could not. And I wanted that charm.

'So, how do you become like you?'

'It's simple really.'

Bree didn't answer this time; the voice was far off, like someone calling from the staircase in the next room. 'One bite, we release the venom, and you burn.' It was Victoria who answered me, and was instantly sitting next to me at the kitchen table.

'Is it painful?' I asked cautiously, I could vaguely see some uncomfortable expressions on my sisters' faces.

'Extremely.' The harsh tone that was in Victoria's voice when she spoke before was gone, and it was soft and loving once more. 'You feel like you're on fire for three days, every minute you'll be begging to die, rationalising with god to end your misery. And, instead of getting better the more you pray, it just gets hotter and hotter. And when you don't think anything could be more painful, it gets hotter.'

I gulped, three days, it wouldn't be that bad. Only three days. I slowly nodded. 'And what if this is what I want?'

Victoria sucked gently on her own bottom lip. 'Then, James would change you, but only after I think you're ready.'

I gave a small grateful smile and nodded. 'Well, when you think I'm ready, then.'

She nodded; she understood that I meant that she had permission to change me.

'Enough of our interrogation. It's time for yours!'

I scoffed. 'Why? I am not interesting!'

'You are betrothed!' Bree was almost shouting in an amused voice.

I rolled my eyes in distaste. 'Yes, to a Mister, all-high-and-mighty, Edward Mason.'

Mary quickly pulled up a chair, eager. 'Tell us more.'

I sighed, that was the problem. I didn't know more. That was one of the many reasons I decided to sneak out on that fateful night and risk everything on the streets. I wanted to believe in love because I knew I was in love. And it wasn't with Edward Mason.

Ignoring all my sisters' pointed glares I thought back to the night before everything had changed. It was uncomfortable, the memory being so distant, after my encounter with Bree's gift. I remember I had cried myself to sleep that night, like every other night since Peter had disappeared. I woke late, my eyes still red and aching. My mother told me how frightful I looked over the dining room table as we sat down to lunch, me still in my night clothes, simply not caring anymore. Then, proceeded to explain how I would attend a ball that night to honour Peter's life. His mother and father were convinced he had committed suicide by the note he'd left them, but I knew better. He was simply making his new life with Charlotte. I told my mother straight, I refused to go. And then she told me about Edward. I screamed, and ranted and raved, yet nothing seemed to faze her. I stormed back to my room, cried some more, and soon a short, black-haired, black-skinned lady came into to help – force – me to dress. I wore a black lace mourning gown that was beautiful but sad. I felt too strained to hold up the dresses status as I walked into the solemn ballroom. I felt as if I would crumple and collapse onto the floor.

I walked in on my father's arm. But, my Anthony quickly stepped in and took me. And proceeded to never let me go. A confident hold of my arm, a feather light touch in the middle of my back, a firm, close hold on my body as we waltzed around the room. We caused talk, but I didn't care. I wanted Anthony to court me more than anything. I had already given my heart to him, without his knowledge or approval. As the night grew long, and I tired, Anthony excused us and escorted me back to my home. On the concrete steps, before the magnificent door that lead into my cold existence, Anthony's lips touched mine in my first, chaste, kiss. A fire pooled in my belly and soon engulfed my chest too. My legs wobbled, and I leant myself closer to keep standing. His arms reached around and pulled me in, holding me with my chest pressed to his. Eternity passed as we kissed, both of our lips moulding together with love. He broke away; I panted and smiled up at him. We kissed once more before I skittered into the house, looking back to him before I closed the door. He left with a smile on his face, and my heart in his hands.

Anthony, that's all I knew him as. My tall, dark-haired, handsome man. Isabelle, that's all he knew me as. Not the spoilt Swan girl I was rumoured to be. I was just Peter's cousin, who was hurting just as much as he, at the loss of a brother. Then I remembered why I hurt so bad. Edward.

Who has a name like Edward? He was probably old, and ugly, with a stupid university degree at an Ivy League college to make himself better than all the rest. He was most definitely a pompous arse, who smoked cigars like they were going out of fashion, drank too much whiskey, and ended up with a red face and pot-belly as he snorted a laugh. He would never compare to my Anthony.

I realised, that one day, if I were to marry this Edward, I would have to make love to him. My body would drape over his; my only, and most prized, possession would be taken away so coarsely. He would be rough, I knew it. He would hurt me badly as he claimed my body for his own gratification.

I would imagine Anthony's softness when that happened. Imagine it was his strong hands running over my body, and it was his body that was taking mine.

A small tear ran down my cheek. It wasn't like my rage before; this was hurt and utter defeat.

I curled up on my bed and let the tears flow. The lace of my dress had crumpled. My bedcover was marked with the makeup that I wore as I wiped my face on it.

I wished with all my might that I could just run away. In a moment of pure insanity, it was clear that there was no point wishing and I decided that running away was exactly what I would do.

At twelve-midnight the gate was completely unguarded for no longer than five minutes as the security changed shift. That would be my only chance and I would need to go tonight, before my nerves got the better of me.

I changed into my most practical clothes and flat boat shoes mother had scoffed at. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun, securing it tightly with a ribbon, and scrunched a measly ten dollars down my top.

I exited out my window, miraculously not falling from the second story as I climbed down. I hid close to the house until my wrist watch showed twelve-oh-one and sprinted for the small wrought iron gate on the side of the main gate, hoping the guard was punctual as usual.

Cold tears fell down my face still, never failing. I walked for hours until I found the street I knew Anthony lived on. Peter and I had come here once before. Anthony's bedroom was a room up the stairs, closest to the front of the house. When Peter and I had come before, I was soaked in filthy street water as I stood too close to the road with an inconsiderate fellow driving too fast through a large puddle. I gasped and gagged and bit my lip to force my tears away. Peter snorted and laughed at my misfortune, saying it would only happen to me.

Anthony's mother ushered me in and took pity and gave me another dress to wear. We were, thankfully, a similar size. But she led me to Anthony's room with an armful of dress, forgetting to send a lady in to help me out of an uncomfortable, drenched corset. I danced around his room in my stretching to untie myself. I crashed into the wall again and the door burst open. Anthony stood in the room, staring at me.

'Anthony!' I shrieked, lunging for his bedspread to cover myself.

'Are you alright? I heard all this crashing. I thought you were being beaten!' he cried, looking sincerely worried.

'I'm fine, I can't undo the knot to take off this dripping corset. If I don't, I'm sure I'll come down with the flu.'

He looked at me in disbelief, then sighed. 'Come here and turn around.'

I gasped in horror. 'NO!' My hand automatically held the bedcover tighter, pulling it further up my body.

He shook his head at my stubbornness. 'Look, my mother and her lady have already gone out, so, unless you want either Peter or my father to undress you, come here and turn around.'

I gently gnawed on my bottom lip in frustration and fear. 'Promise not to look?' Oh, what was I doing?

'I promise. And I'll be very gentle,' he said, holding out his hand to me.

I nodded and slowly crept forward before turning my back to him. He had to step forward, too, to reach the knots comfortably. Slowly, he worked his fingers up and down the tight strings and I felt it getting heavier and heavier on my body. Soon, I'd be able to completely slip it off.

'Okay, that's enough; I can get it from there.' I looked over to the dry corset on the chair. I'd never get it tight enough. 'Ant, would you be able to come back and tie the dry one up?' I daren't look at him.

'Of course.' He slipped out, his voice unsteady, leaving me in peace.

I slipped off the wet one and squeezed into the dry one, tightening it the best I could.

'Anthony?' I called.

I heard the door open and close and his footsteps as he came up behind me.

In silence, he worked his fingers through the laces again. He was so gentle; my body was usually jerked back and forth when my lady did this for me. Then, he went to tie it off.

'Anthony, it needs to be tighter,' I said, pushing it around with my belly. It was much too loose, much looser than I ever wore one.

'Isabelle, it'll cut off your circulation.'

'Anthony, tighter!' I demanded.

He grumbled and tightened it fractionally.

'Anthony, please. You saw how tight the last one was, it needs to be that tight.'

'But Isabelle, you are the most beautiful girl I know; I couldn't possibly hurt you like that.' He spoke deeply in my ear.

I flushed at his words. 'It doesn't hurt.' I weakly retaliated.

He tightened the laces slowly, finger tips lingering on the curve of my waist. Until it was acceptably tight, I didn't let him stop. He quickly excused himself after the final knot was tied. I sighed at my inappropriate thoughts and quickly finished dressing.

The memory pained me. The evening was giving in to my defiance. I entered his house through a window, scaled the stairs and slipped into his room. This would be the last time I would see him. My eyes adjusted to the darkness; he was spread out in the middle of his bed, his bare chest and stomach pressed into the mattress. His face was turned towards me with his fingers gripping cotton in his sleep. I resisted the urge to climb into the bed with him. Run my hands over his hard shoulders, feel that body heat, smell his smell lingering with mine.

Instead, I lent on the soft mattress, pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and left light kisses up his jaw before one last one right on his sleep slack lips. His fingers relaxed. He sighed when I let go of his lips.

'Isabelle,' he moaned.

'I love you, Anthony,' I whispered.

'I love you too, Isabelle,' he whispered back. 'Never forget.' I almost swore he wasn't asleep.

Sigh... Youngen's in love... where do I find me one of them?!

Until tomorrow, au revoir mon ami.