Chapter 7

She felt him return, felt the moment he entered the premises. When he was gone, she closed her eyes and for a while she didn't exist. Now he was back and she filled with fire. She waited but he didn't come. Fury burned in her veins and she didn't want to wait anymore. Closing her eyes, she sought him, pulled herself where she felt his essence.

"She's here," he said as she opened her eyes, standing in a dark room with a dark, wooden desk that gleamed with polish. The fire crackled in the grate, but she felt nothing emanating from the flames. Looking around she saw the other one there too.

"I can feel her," the cold one said as he sat behind his desk.

They said nothing for a while, as if she was disturbing a conversation.

"I know who she is now," the hated one said.

"Scorpius," the cold one started. That was his name, Scorpius. An awful, hated name for an awful man. "I don't know if getting into that is a good idea."

"Why, she'd pried her way into my life; I am going to return the favor. Lucy Wallis," he said loudly. "A sweet girl, by all accounts, with equally sweet family and friends," he said pointedly.

Fury boiled over and she rushed forward, reaching through his clothes and raking her nails down his back. He hissed and arched. A change of energy rolled up her arm. Hurting him changed her. She looked down at her fingers, seeing small smears of blood. Maybe it was the blood that fed her.

"I swear to whatever will listen, I will destroy you and everything you ever loved," he said through clenched teeth.

"Scorpius," the cold one said calmly. "Sometimes I wonder if you are trying to provoke her. Are you seeking to go to war, are you? Tear this house apart fighting with a ghost?"

"I'm going to beat her into nothing."

"Yes, well, you already tried that. And apparently she is the one that can hurt you, not the other way around."

"I will find a way. I just need to find the right leverage point. Everyone has a price—even this bitch."

She swiped again across his cheek and angry red welts ran down his cheek. Again energy flowed up her arm, filling her with lightness.

"Unless you calm, she is going to rip you to bits before you even have a chance. Upsetting her seems to make her lash out. We'll find a way to deal with this, but perhaps you could in the meantime act with some circumspection."

Scorpius' lips tightened and he turned sharply to the door, marching out. The cold one watched after him for a moment then returned his attention to some papers on his desk.

-0-

"Your parlor tricks are a mere nuisance," the hated one said when she appeared in his apartments, where he stood by the mirror in the bathroom, spreading ointment on the angry stripes down his pale cheek. His shirt was off and she could see the welts along his pale back. "Careful what you do. I will naturally return anything you inflict on me tenfold, Lucy Wallis."

The name meant nothing to her. It connected with nothing in her mind. All she was was hatred.

"You're disgusting," he said, eyeing her through the mirror. "You're revolting to look at." His mouth screwed up in disgust. It was supposed to mean something to her, but it didn't.

Lucy. She had a name. That was who she had been. A girl who had lived—a life he had destroyed. She was exacting punishment, she realized. Haunting him for what he'd done. The details on how he'd killed her were absent from her mind, but she knew he had.

"Know what this is?" he said, drawing a book from inside his jacket. His eyes returned to hers, searching for comprehension, a smirk on his lips. She didn't know that the book was. "This is your life written down. Your journal, and now it's mine. I wonder what little tidbits I'll find in here." He was pleased with himself.

He pushed forward, walked through her. A thickening sensation washed through her as he moved through and his barely audible groan and shiver proved he felt it too. Clearly not a comfortable sensation.

Taking his jacket off, he threw it on a chair and sat down by the fire, opening the journal. "Let's see what we find. Oh, you lived in Grimsby, charming place," he said sarcastically. "With your mother. Certainly not from a family I've ever heard off."

His attention returned to the journal. She'd had a mother. The idea hadn't occurred to her before. The hated one, Scorpius, was doing this to find something to hurt her with. Which wouldn't work. She felt nothing and even the idea of a mother meant nothing.

Darkness had fallen and the twinkle of lights started. Frost crept up the windows as she moved near, while Scorpius sat as close to the fire as he could get. He was asleep when she turned her attention back, unknowing how long she had been staring at the lights. She had no concept of time. Time didn't exist. It was just him and now he was entrapped in his dreams.

Staring at him, she wished she could get in there and wreak havoc, tear his dreams apart. Maybe she would have more mobility in there, an ability to voice her rage. She moved forward, but her fingers slipped into his head like mist, unable to get a grip. She could scratch along his skin, but nothing more. She wasn't even sure how that work. Anger seemed to be required.

She scratched along his neck but he didn't wake. Apparently very little woke him when he was asleep. A guilty conscious certainly wasn't keeping him awake. A tiny drop of blood sat on her nail then sank into her skin. Energy flowed; she could feel it inside her. His blood fed her in some way, more than the bond between them, the shimmery one she could at time see.

Lucy stared at the journal for a while. Her life was written in there. A life she didn't remember and didn't care about. It wasn't important now, who she had been. There was no future there, just a past that was now dead.

His blood gave her strength. The thought bounced around her mind, as if trying to tell her something important. Her mind was so slow, burdened by mist and death. Blood made her stronger.

He still sat there, with his head back on the headrest, eyes closed. Curves of dark lashes fanned out across otherwise pale cheeks. Her eyes moved lower to his pale neck. The blood strengthened her and she could have more of it.

Placing her knees at his sides, she sat down and lowered her hand to the side of his neck where her scratch was, tiny droplets of blood having formed in her wake. Her nails scraped along the wound again and blood welled. He groaned in his sleep, feeling the pain reverberate through to his dreams. Good. Lowering her lips, she tasted the blood on her tongue, strength flowing into her. It was the first and only sensation of taste she could recall. She tasted his blood, rich and metallic. Teeth firmed and she bit down and his blood gushed into her mouth, tasting like life and sun. Taste. A minute ago, she hadn't realized it existed. Now every cell in her body absorbed it as his eyes flew open. Hands grasped for her, but desperately moved through her.

"Get off me," he yelled, finally forcing himself up and through her. The blood inside her turned painful, transforming her in some way. "You bit me," he accused, his hand on the wound in his neck. He rushed to the bathroom to tend the damage.

Pain and fierce tension filled every part of her. The power of it zinged through her mind and ears. Holding her hand out, she thought it looked more solid. Not solid like a person, like he was. She was still dead, a ghost. Just stronger now.

"You horrid bitch," he accused, coming out of the bathroom with a white towel pressed to his throat. "You fucking bit me."

She turned on the couch toward him. "Serves you right," she said.

He froze where he was, staring at her. Thin bands of blood ran down his chest. That blood made her stronger. Unfortunately she didn't want more.

"And now you speak," he said. She hadn't noticed that she had, but he had obviously heard her. His eyes pierced her and he shook his head. "I will find a way to destroy you."

"We'll just see who manages first," she said. They apparently had the same goal. "That man is right. I have the distinct advantage in that I can hurt you and you can't do anything to me. Your blood makes me strong and I am going to drain every drop from you," she hissed.

He just stood there for a moment, trying to think of something to do. She could theoretically chase him around until she'd drained every drop, except she didn't think she could take anymore. There seemed to be a point where she'd had as much as she could take. It hadn't exactly been a hunger, but a need for energy and now her body sang with it. Her mind was clearer and she felt more cognizant with her surroundings, even him. Still standing there, she looked into his eyes and he stared back. Her nemesis. The hated one. She would destroy him, hopefully before he managed to find a way of destroying her. Either way, one of them would destroy the other.