Chapter 2: A Part of Darkness

Jo Harvelle was not one to succumb to the threats of mortal danger, despite her intentions to weave her way into it purposely. She knew there were things more important than death. Family. Friendship. Loyalty. She never felt indifferent to darkness, she had been raised it in. Her mother never shied away from the concept, and never placed a proverbial spin on reality, even if she did want something more than... this... for her child. Alas, decisions, decisions...

Jo rose from a turbulent slumber to the steady vibrations of her neighbour's music. 7am on the dot. Although this was a welcome alarm clock; she was on open at the bar, and it would not do to be late. She approached the mirror and assessed her features; there was a dark circle under her left eye and a small cut on her forehead surrounded by crusted blood. Considering the wreck of her car, she was satisfied with the lack of physical consequence. She ignored the rising hatred in her stomach for that ass-of-a-demon and the bother she would have to endure to get a new car. That and the pit of dread that was her assured death and eternal vacation on Earth's hottest underground continent.

Something caught her attention behind her and she whipped around. She was greeted with nothing but the outdated fashions on her bathroom wall, but the sense of being watched lingered. As a precaution, she double checked the wards around her house. Everything appeared normal, yet she was still uneasy. Life around hunters, along with the events of the previous night convinced her she wasn't insane.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. Already she was running late, and now that she had to rely on taxis..

She was thrown against the wall, and could feel her already fragile head crack against the rough stone. Collapsing on a head on the floor, she felt as though her body was going to rip apart. Forcing herself up, she pulled a stake from her handbag and hid it behind her back.

She never saw the vampire, but could feel its presence. Damnit, I thought I got them all.

Something grabbed her neck and forced her to the floor. She lost her grip and the stake rolled an unknown distance away. The vampire jumped on top of her, pinning her down and staring directly into her eyes. He was oddly unattractive, and his breath, so close to her face, smelt like congealed blood. Hoping there was enough human left in him to feel some masculine pain, she kneed him directly in his groin, and he fell sideways gasping for air. She smirked and ran to pick up the stake.

As she closed in on him, he turned, bared his teeth and made an attempt for her throat, but she was faster. The stake pierced his skin effortlessly, and he screamed out in pain. Not caring who or what found him in this darkened alley behind the bar, she fetched her handbag and quickly made for her apartment. The day had been long and fearsome enough without the ambush of a very unwelcome vampire.

Hunting was exhilarating, satisfying, therapeutic among other pleasuresome adjectives, but it was also draining, tiring. She can't remember when if ever she got a good night's sleep. Life, these days, taxed her of every emotion she had.

'I've reconsidered,' came an unwanted voice behind her. Why do they always have to appear when her back is turned? Dramatic effect? Demons! When the pause extended past the hope for a continuation, she replied, 'not planning on elaborating?'

'The situation is delicate. Unprecedented. I'm still not entirely sure if you're worth it, Har-velle.'

'My name is Joanna.'

'I was being condescending.'

'Jackass,' she whispered to herself. This one's ego appeared to be particularly inflated.

Ignoring her, he continued, 'perhaps I need more persuasion. Tell me, why do we find ourselves in this little predicament anyway?' He stepped closer to her. Frozen to the spot, and already up against a wall, she did not move.

'You mean, why did I sell my soul?' His eyebrows lifted in feint curiosity. He already knew the answer, and the question would have purely been asked as a means to torture her. However, she knew she wasn't in the position to remain silent. 'My mother, she came off badly after a fight with a Werewolf.'

'So, your mother, one of the most skilled hunters alive, got sloppy enough to turn her back on a Werewolf?' He was still walking forward. 'Really?'

'I disobeyed and came to fight with her. Sh-She turned her back to help me.'

'Ah. I never understood the human attachment to family. Mine definitely left something to be desired...' he stopped, turned and admired the surroundings. 'Nice place you've got here,' he walked to the television and admired the thick layer of dust resting on top, 'that was sarcasm by the way. This is a hole. Got anything to drink?' She ignored him.

'I'm getting bored of this exchange in conversation. How did you get in here?'

'Getting clumsy you are. Bathroom window was left open. Didn't take much to blow the salt out of the way. You might want to remember that now Mum's not here to keep watch.' There was another pause. She couldn't figure out if she feared him or was generally annoyed at the bastard.

'If you don't plan on renegotiating then-'

'Oh but I do. I have a ... proposition ... for you,' he was right up against her now. She met her gaze with a ruthlessness to match his own. 'I will tear up the contract you made seven years ago, only if you agree to hand your soul to me, all specs included etcetera etcetera.'

'And what-'

'Basically you're soul will remain in my property up to the point of which you pass on, of natural or unnatural causes of course, and because I'm feeling exceptionally generous, I'll even return your soul when said day comes.' The fallacy of this proposition actually made her laugh.

'I'm not joking.' He retorted, looking bored at her lack of composition.

'You actually expect me to fall for that? How arrogant you must be.'

'I'm not going to make this offer again. Either you accept it, or you don't. I have better things to do than wait for the answer of some spoiled 21 year old'.

'Why?'

'I have my reasons.'

'Not good enough.'

'Let's just say I'm curious. You're an unusual one, Harvelle.'

His answer still did not satisfy her, 'you're going to have to do better than that.'

'Now I simply don't care. I hold the bargaining chip here, remember?'

She stared at him, unbelieving. There has to be a catch; there's always a catch.

'What will happen to me? You will expect some payment I assume,' She asked, and in reply to his silence, continued, 'I deserve to know that much.' He considered her question. He spoke next with an air of someone choosing their words very carefully.

'You get to live your life to the fullest extent ... possible ... as you please. And if I say, required your hunting services or whatnot some point along the line, you would be most happy to oblige.' He said. She wasn't convinced.

'I don't know.' He sighed.

'Going once...' she stared. Was he really playing this game?

'Going twice... last chance.' Was she game enough? Every bone in her body knew this was the wrong decision, but really, would it be worse than getting dragged to hell? And she would get her soul back before she died.

'Fine. But I want it codified.'

'Not necessary. Besides, you just agreed.' He moved forward towards her and gently grabbed her neck.

'Wait, what?'

'You know how this works, darling,' he sneered. Without hesitance, or warning he kissed her deeply and purposefully. Perhaps if the situation had been different, and he had been different, she would have enjoyed it. Instead, all her brain registered was distaste for the man kissing her more intensely than anyone had in her entire life. After what seemed a lifetime, he let her go and stared at her with an inquisitive look in his gaze. Perhaps he was being truthful; perhaps he was just curious.

Or, perhaps not.

He waved his hand and a deep chill enveloped the room. Suddenly her skin felt of fire, and small cuts opened themselves up all over her body. She never imagined the term "written in her own blood" could be so relevant. A few lines were moved around, some disappeared, and the blood eventually faded. It was all over quickly, and she could not keep the scepticism out of her eyes as she glared at him.

'That's it? The deal's off?'

'That's it.' But something didn't fit.

'You told me you weren't going to codify the new deal. I obviously still have a contract tied to my soul,' she retorted, staring at the now empty skin on her forearms.

'I told you I wasn't going to codify the conditions of our arrangement. You're soul is mine, that has been codified, but in terms of the services,' he smirked, 'well, they're up to interpretation.'

Her anger became terror as she allowed his words to wash over her.

'You really don't know how foolish you are, Har-velle.'

A/N: Again, props go to Goethe's Faust for the title. It really is quite fitting given the story.

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-thesolitaryone-