"Your eyes are sparkling with teenage fire,

I'll satisfy your mad desires,

Cause I love playing with fire,

And I don't wanna get burned.

I love playing with fire,

I don't think I'll ever learn."

-Joan Jett "I Love Playing With Fire"

"-And so I told him that if he didn't like me being with someone else, he could leave."

Elizabeth finished her story with a puff of cigarette smoke. Rachel could've spent hours listening to her talk. She seemed so wise. She knew the answer for everything. Cradling her wine in hand, Rachel then said, "So, you were with someone else while dating him?"

Elizabeth understood the implication. She hadn't meant to offend her. She wouldn't. "I told him he could join if he liked," she explained. "I would've shared him. It's not my fault he let his sexuality get in the way." She finished her drink, and then said, "I don't get why people have limitations. The world has so much to offer. Life is too short to be holding back your desires." She then said, "I mean, look at us. I invited you up here because I want to sleep with you, and you came because you hoped we would."

Rachel's cheeks burned. She tried hiding them as she drank her wine, "I-I don't know what you're-"

"-You don't have to hide from me, Rachel. It's okay to like both sexes. I know I do," she smiled. "If you're not ready, that's fine. We can have dinner together and then go our separate ways for the night. Though, if you happened to stay, I wouldn't mind."

Her flirtatious tone made Rachel's blush worse. "Dinner?"

"You seriously need to get out, Rachel," she said. "I have the perfect place and the perfect outfit for you."

She'd never gone out with someone as beautiful as Elizabeth. Her relationships with girls usually stayed behind closed doors and under the sheets. She'd never been out in public. "Yeah," she nodded. "That sounds nice."

"Perfect," Elizabeth took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

Sitting on the large circular bed, she watched Elizabeth look through her closet. "You'd look great in purple," Elizabeth said. "Nothing too revealing but not too modest either; you have a fantastic figure, you should flaunt it more."

"I-I don't really know a whole lot about clothes," she admitted. "It'd always been Jeanine's thing."

"Good thing you have me then," she said. "I can teach you."

The thought of spending more time around Elizabeth made her smile. "Did you have a crush on her?" Elizabeth asked, taking out a lavender dress, but then putting it back.

"Who? Jeanine?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Were you into her?"

"Not really," Rachel said. "She was pretty and stuff, but she wasn't my type. When I met her in freshman year, she was this ultra pretty, sorority girl. She did all those school functions that had some sort of subtle innuendo. I wasn't in the sorority, but we had English Lit together, so we became friends that way." She then said, "I guess I always knew what kind of person she was, but I pretended I didn't notice. I wanted a friend and she was the only person who seemed interested. Of course, she proved to be as I suspected. So yeah, definitely not my type."

"What is your type then?" Elizabeth picked out a violet, one-shouldered silk dress.

"I-I like girls that are, well, pretty," she said. She realized how dumb that sounded, and then said, "I mean, obviously pretty but like that special kind of pretty. The kind that gives you butterflies and makes you wonder how you got so lucky to stand near them. She'd be funny, smart and classy." She stood up on shaky knees. She caught a whiff of perfume and the energy between them became flammable. Rachel knew what she wanted. Elizabeth would be a nice ending to a terrible day. "I changed my mind," she said.

"Oh?" Elizabeth said, no longer looking for dresses.

"Yeah, I-I'm not really that hungry anyway," she said. She timidly touched the middle of Elizabeth's back, her fingertips brushing the end of her light curls. She was so perfect. Like James, she sent a spark right through Rachel. Her fingertips trailed down the back of the silk dress until she reached the tailbone. "I-I want something else instead," she sounded like a cheesy porn star.

Elizabeth turned and faced her. She touched Rachel's cheek, letting the hand fall down the rest of her body. Rachel shivered at the sensation. She moved in closer, putting her hands on Rachel's hips. Their lips merely an inch apart, Rachel thought of kissing her right away. Her own hands brought Elizabeth closer until their bodies flushed together. Elizabeth ran her fingers through Rachel's hair and then suddenly kissed her. She tasted like strawberries and wine. The taste was irresistible, and Rachel couldn't stop herself from deepening it. Rachel held her as they continued, Elizabeth walking her backwards to the bed. Once they crashed down onto the white sheets, the terribleness of the day faded into nothing and everything was about Elizabeth.

"How dare you!"

She should've known he'd make a fuss. James never liked other people touching his things. She sat on the couch in her robe, having a cigarette as she stared at him. "I thought the idea might appeal to you given your depravity," she said, "The two most beautiful women in your life tangled in erotic bliss."

James bit his tongue. It had occurred to him. She smirked. "I told you to leave her be. What part of that did you not understand?"

"She was upset," she said. "And since when did I have to listen to you?"

"I do not want her tainted by you. I won't lose her to-"

"-You haven't lost her. She's still human. I wouldn't think of turning her."

He paused, and then looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"

Elizabeth confessed she didn't know why. When she and Rachel rolled around in her bed, touching and tasting parts of each other, she'd considered biting into Rachel. She'd taste those sour nightshade berries and let herself be drowned in ecstasy. Yet, something stopped her. She wasn't afraid of James. She had never been. She was afraid of Rachel. When she walked into Rachel's room, the energy was astonishing. It almost scared her. It worried her. The broken wine bottle, the shredded contract, the destroyed pillow weren't the only signs of apparent rage. She'd seen the small cuts on Rachel's hands. When Elizabeth asked, Rachel said she didn't mind the pain.

Someone like Rachel should stay human. Rachel wasn't like Donovan with his little tantrums. Ramona's wrath might as well be that of an angry kitten compared to Rachel's. Rachel's tantrums were deadly. She hated thinking of what would happen if she angered her enough.

"She's killed before, you know," James said as if he'd read her mind. "If you turned her, she'd spend an eternity killing. She wouldn't be bound by you, me or this hotel."

"You're implying that not even I could stop her?"

He chortled, "Of course not. As beautiful and cunning as you are, nobody can control madness. Leave her to me. Then you won't have to worry about her."

"She'd still kill."

"Yes, but only within the confines of this hotel," he said.

"You don't intend to share?"

"You know I don't like sharing…"

The doors then opened and Donovan walked in. He stopped once he spotted James. "What's he doing here?" he asked.

"He was just leaving," Elizabeth said.

James gave her a sideways glance and then turned to Donovan, "Don't worry, dear boy. I have my mind set on only one now. Unlike your mistress…"

Elizabeth wanted to hit him. She watched him give her a smug look before leaving the penthouse. Donovan, perfect jawline and bright blue eyes, turned back to her. "What did he mean by that?"

"Nothing," she said. "James likes playing mind games with people." She stood and grabbed the bottle of purified blood. She poured each of them a glass. Donovan put down the bags in the main room and walked upstairs. She knew he'd figure it out. Rachel's scent lingered in the air still. Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from inhaling it.

"Who was here?" he asked, coming back out.

"Rachel," she answered.

"That dorky girl with the kitten pajamas?" he came down the stairs and walked up to her. "What was she doing here?"

"We were just chatting." She handed him a glass, "Here, have a drink. It'll calm you down."

He took the drink from her and sipped from it. He didn't believe her. Elizabeth couldn't say she loved Donovan. He was beautiful with a jaw line that ran for days,but his jealousy grew tiresome. An incredible lover, she wanted him the moment they met. However, now she regretted that decision. Donovan was so certain she'd finally found love in him. He hated anyone she took an interest too, even one as casual as Rachel.

"What's so special about her anyway?" he asked. She walked back towards the sofa and sat down again. "She's just a geeky little nerd."

"She's more than that," Elizabeth told him. "She's a caterpillar that's only just entered its cocoon. When she comes out, she'll be a beautiful butterfly."

He snorted, "I doubt that. I'm surprised you didn't let her stay. She would've made a good meal."

Elizabeth shook her head, "You wouldn't have enjoyed her. The nightshade berries in her blood are toxic. She's practically deadly."

A lie, of course, but a needed one. Donovan scoffed and sat beside her. "I'm sure she is," he rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Very."

She found Ms. Evers in her room the following morning. Bed hair, stinking of perfume and sex, and shuffling towards her room, she'd recognized the maid's cart outside her room. Walking in, she saw the red-head scrubbing away at the wine stain on the floor. Rachel immediately felt guilty for not cleaning up. She knew her episodes left destruction in their wake. She should've known better.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Evers," she said, coming into the room to find a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast waiting for her. "I didn't mean to leave such a mess behind."

"It's alright, dear," she dismissed. "This is such a glorious stain. I couldn't resist."

Rachel sat down to eat, pouring herself a coffee when she noticed the note on her table. Picking it up, she recognized the elegant black writing and wax seal. Suddenly, Elizabeth didn't matter. Her heart swelled knowing the sender and guessing his request. She could imagine him at a desk, writing this paper with a fountain pen, having no hesitation in his words or thoughts. It made her smile. Eager hands tore open the seal, pulling out the letter inside.

'Dearest Rachel,

I hope you're doing well after Devil's Night. I know I have been hasty in my decisions concerning you, and I plan to make it all up to you. You are a shining star, burning so bright and long that I couldn't help but reach out to you. I will be honored if you would join me for dinner tomorrow night. Nothing would please me more than to sit across from you again.

With all my love,

James P. March.'

Her smile stretched into a full beam reading his letter. She read it two more times so she could hear his voice in her head. She looked to Ms. Evers, who dunked her brush in a bucket and continued scrubbing. "Ms. Evers?"

"Yes?"

"If I wrote a reply, would you give it to him?"

She stopped scrubbing and looked over at Rachel. She didn't speak right away. She smiled brightly, "Of course, Miss. He would love a formal reply from you."

She then realized, "I don't have any stationary. He-He deserves something better." James deserved better than yellow notepad paper. Rachel could feel the plunging embarrassment.

"Then thank goodness The Master left you some gifts."

Rachel watched her leave the room and come back with gift boxes. Big red bows tied around white boxes, one was bigger and longer while the other a bit smaller. She left her breakfast for the boxes, standing at the end of the bed where they'd been placed.

"I think he truly does feel ashamed of what happened at the dinner," Ms. Evers explained. "In truth, I've never seen him upset that way. He killed three prostitutes that night. I think the exhilaration helps him forget his pain."

Rachel opened the smaller box first. She found a large wooden jewelry box with a dove painted on the lid. Antique jewelry sat inside each drawer of the velvet lined box. Organized by type, she found necklaces of every jewel imaginable, earrings that hung down to her shoulders, and rings and bracelets of silver and gold. They were all beautiful. She assumed he'd owned these for a long time. He always made her feel so special. Beneath that, she found a stationary box. She giggled, shaking her head. He knew she'd write back. She could already guess what was in the second box.

Clothes filled the longer box. Each item was preserved in plastic and was gently stacked atop one another. They weren't the modern, luxurious dresses of today. They'd been like the dress she wore on Devil's Night. Some sparkled in beads and sequins, while others shined in satin or silk. She didn't mind one bit. She'd enjoyed dressing in the 20's glamour James was so partial to. She unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a purple satin and lace dress. It would fall around her ankles, while its square neckline showcased any necklace she wore. She loved the lace sleeves that ran 3/4ths down her arms. These were better than any dress Elizabeth could give her.

"They're beautiful. He certainly does go through a lot of trouble for me."

"Well, he thinks you're worth it, dear." She patted Rachel's shoulder and returned to her stain. "The Master wouldn't waste his time if he thought you weren't."

Rachel set to writing her letter straight away. She ate her eggs as she wrote:

'Dear James,

You don't need to be sorry. It's me who should apologize. You put so much faith in me, and praised me so much in front of your equals, and I humiliated you. I'm not strong enough to kill like you. The best part of Devil's Night was the time I spent with you. I would love to have dinner with you.

Sincerely,

Rachel Corbin.'