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Dante stops and slowly lowers the bottle from his lips. He had hope to drown his pissy mood, but it seems the universe has other plans for him. "What do you mean? How can you possibly know that Trish?" Dante set the opened bottle down on the dirty counter and turned back to face the blonde woman in front of him.
"Because it's written, Dante. If you and I know anything about prophecies, it's that they unfortunately almost always come true. Mona will let Matrem possess her. Look how weak she is, Dante. She won't last much longer." Trish hates herself for even entertaining her current thought. But what else are they supposed to do?
"Are you suggesting we kill her, Trish?" Dante let the venom drip off of his question. His body was coiled, ready to strike out at anything to protect this girl. Even if that meant casting Trish out of his home. "That is what you're saying, isn't it? Kill her and get it over with? You're thinking that if we kill her, she can't possibly give up, right? I got news for you, babe: Matrem doesn't care if Mona is dead or alive. A vessel is a vessel."
~/~/~/~
Mona shivers and curls on her side with a pained wince. Why is it that she's felt pain nearly constantly since she met that little bitch in the alley? She winces again at the harshness of her own thoughts. Gently, with delicate fingers, she traces a bath down her thighs and to her knees. A vivid picture of her falling slams its way into her memory. That's right, she fell trying to get away from someone…who? She can't remember. Dante? Where is Dante? Where's Nero? Did he even come to the hospital? Is he still upset with her? Who's bed is she in? It doesn't smell like Dante's or Nero's.
"My, my, my. You do an awful lot of thinking, has anyone told you that?" David's deep voice floats over from the window sill. Mona looks absolutely delectable to him. The faint smell of her blood lingers in the air, taunting him. In a few strides, he's on the bed over the top of her, mouth clamping firmly over her lips, hand in her hair forcing her head back.
Mona chokes and desperately tries to force him off of her. His body feels strangely cold beneath her hands. When his tongue finds its way in her mouth, she snaps her teeth shut. A rush of blood and the tip of his tongue fill her mouth, giving her the urge to vomit. She attempts to scramble back away from him, her head swimming and knees burning, when he pulls back from her. Instead of a scream, as she expected, David laughs deeply, his blood running down his chin and too his chest.
"That was very naughty, Mona. And right in the middle of you giving yourself to me." David smiles charmingly at Mona and looks down her body.
Mona's eyes grow wide when she looks down to find her fingers unbuttoning Dante's shirt. Her eyes look back up to his face and she gasps with horror when she realizes who he is. "Sitri…"
"At your service, my beauty. Well, not at your service. Not yet at least." Sitri takes a handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and wipes the blood from his chin. "You know, this is a shame. I really liked this outfit. I thought it suited me. Not as well as you do, of course." Sitri climbs back over the top of Mona, his eyes traveling down her body. "It's a shame you have to be in so much pain, my darling. Would you like me to ease your suffering?"
"Not at the price you're charging," Mona snaps at him, struggling to pull away from him.
"Oh, come on. It's just your eternal soul." Sitri moves off of her and sits on the bed next to her, crossing his ankles and placing his hands together as if in prayer. "Well, actually, it's not even your soul we want. You could still go to heaven, Mona. We just need your body."
"Why my body?" Why Mona was not calling out for Dante or someone, she has no idea. She was a steak in a room with a tiger. Things could only end badly for her.
"Well, because you fit a very specific list of criteria. It's nothing personal against, you I assure you. We did not just look at you and be like, yes, I don't like this one. She should suffer." Sitri brushed his hand over Mona's lightly, delighting in the way she shuddered. "But in our defense, we did give you a choice at the beginning. Matrem said that all you had to do was give in, and you refused. So now, you're in pain."
Mona clenches her jaw when he clicks his tongue at her. "That bitch dragged me into a warehouse, dislocated a few of my fingers, put gouges in my arms, not to mention the several bruises she gave me. She tortured me." Mona wants to hit him. She wants to hit him more than she has ever wanted to hit anyone in her entire life. "My entire life is now in shambles because of this."
"I assure you, that demon is being dealt with as we speak. She was instructed to leave you unharmed. And it is a shame about your dancing. I find you quite mesmerizing to watch. You would have been glorious as lead. Now that falls to Clara, does it not?" Sitri smiles politely and picks a thread from his clothing.
"You leave her out of this!" Mona tries to sound threatening, but she's certain she doesn't scare this man.
"Oh, but my dear. She's the one who started it."
~/~/~/~
Nero tries once again to push Clara from him so he can leave. He has no time to deal with her crying hysterics. He needs to check on Mona. He should never have let her go to that club alone. He should have tied her to the bed or something, anything to get her to have stayed home. "Clara, I can't understand a word you're saying. Calm down."
"It's my fault! All of this is my fault!" Clara cries again, her hands gripping at Nero's coat.
"How is it your fault? You didn't force her to go to the club." Nero tries again to get himself dethatched from Clara. Gaining his success and freedom, Nero makes his way to the door. He decides then and there that Clara is a very weepy drunk. A bit like Dante.
"I summoned him!" Clara shouts from behind him, her voice breaking.
Nero stops in his tracks and straightens. "You summoned who?" He turns around, his gaze steely and harsh.
"Sitri…I…I summoned him. I didn't know that this would happen to her!" Clara tries desperately to explain to a fast approaching Nero. The murder in his eyes makes her incredibly nervous.
"You did what?" Nero shouts at her, his rage boiling up and over. "You stupid girl!"
"I didn't know! I thought it was a joke. I didn't actually think anything would happen! I just wanted to be the lead, that's all!" Clara backs up quickly, her feet now unsteady in her stilettos. With a gasp, her back slams into her dresser and knocks her lamp on the floor.
"You sentenced her to death because you wanted the lead?" Nero wants to kill her. He wants to rip her from limb to limb with his bare hands. This is Mona's friend. A girl who was supposed to love Mona and she betrayed her for a part in a ballet. "If she dies, Clara, I will kill you myself."
"He said they wouldn't kill her. He promised me!" Clara cries again. She had no idea when she summoned him that it would actually work. She thought he was lying. Sitri swore to her that Mona would come to no harm. "I didn't know."