Crevan looked up expectantly, his blue eyes piercing.

"Don't worry; she's dead," Blake said boredly, dropping his weapons bag onto the table.

Deanna dropped into an armchair, digging her heel into the table and slipping the knife from the holster on her leg.

Crevan nodded silently, picking up a gleaming dagger. "Was it you?"

"No, Deanna killed her."

"Ah," Crevan's eyes rose to her. "Well done. May I ask how you killed her? Was it the throat-?"

"The heart. Between the ribs."

Crevan nodded, sliding a thin katana from Blake's bag. He raised his eyebrows.

Blake crossed his arms defensively. "I like my swords. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that."

Crevan smiled, his fang tips showing.

The door burst open, and the three hunters looked up in suprise.

"You're finally back," a Corbett drawled, striding into the room. "It took you long enough. Is one little vampire brat so hard to kill?"

"We weren't given permission to kill her until after about half an hour," Deanna snapped, flinging the knife into the table, where it wobbled from the impact.

"So? That's your job, isn't it? You were created to hunt. That is your one purpose," Corbett snarled, his fangs glistening in the dim light. "You owe your life to my father and this coven, and so you will serve it with all your being. Without us, you would be a rotting corpse under six feet of soil."

Deanna narrowed her eyes at him, jumping from her armchair. "And what about you? Do you not want to be the next leader to the ruling coven? You depend on us to kill those opposing covens. If I was in my grave right now, you would be fighting to survive! But because I am here, because you created me, you and your friends can sit and twiddle your thumbs, without a care in the world. If you don't like how I kill people, or how long I take, then find someone else. I'm sure the Deminskis would encourage my hunting than you."

Corbett narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning. "Know your place, brat."

He stormed out, slamming the doors behind him.

"Deanna, that was not the best-" Crevan said quietly.

"It was the perfect thing to say," Deanna snapped. "He needs to learn his place. Just because he's Xavier's son doesn't mean he can insult us!"

"I hate to say this," Blake sighed, "but he's the future ruler of the coven. And so we have to show respect to him."

Deanna glared. "Fine," she hissed, "go play his little pet for the night."

She shoved open the window and jumped out. She tugged her high-heels off, before setting off at a run.

Anger burned through her, and tears blurred her perfect vision.

They agreed with him? Blake and Crevan believed that she should just bow down and grovel at his feet?

Deanna slowed to a walk, her feet crunching on dead leaves.

She absently traced the two holes beneath her dark hair.

Memories swirled in her head, forming into a flickering mass of images.

She remembered her initiation. Her rebirth. Her first moment as a vampire.

...

The rose petals were soft on her fingers, and the black sleeves of the dress protected her from the chill of the night. The full moon shone down on her, bathing the vampires around her in an eerie glow.

Crevan slid a dagger into her trembling fingers, and she looked at it curiously.

It was beautiful. Skulls wearing crowns of roses were carved onto the hilt, and words in Latin wove between them. The blade glowed in the light, and the hilt felt as if it were made for her hand.

"Those who embrace the night, will live for ever in eternal glory," the vampire-priest said.

Xavier bent down, brushing aside her rivers of dark hair. His mouth lowered to her neck, and there was a sharp burst of pain as his fangs penetrated her skin.

She gasped, her heart rate rapidly increasing.

She clutched the rose in her palm, and the thorns dug into her hand, drawing blood. Her fingers were white around the dagger, which trembled in her unsteady hand.

Xavier drew back, his mouth clean, but his skin tinged with pink.

"Take my blood," he said quietly, his voice strong and steady. It calmed her. "And you will live with me forever."

She brought his wrist to her lips, and bit down.

The blood was warm in her mouth, and she swallowed, releasing Xavier.

Her throat burned with pain, and her heart beat at an impossible rate. She gasped in air, terrified.

Fire burned through her body, and she clenched her fists, struggling not to scream.

There was a sharp burst in her head, and she fainted.

...

Deanna sighed, stopping to lean against the trunk of a tree.

The initation process had been set out thousands of years ago, when the first vampire had been created. It was long, and many items were needed for it to succeed, but the method also prevent accidental initiations.

Vampires could feed without fear of creating new vampires. The items - the rose, the dagger, the ceremonial gown - took years to perfect, and the money involved was staggering. But it kept the social status of the covens consistent.

The smaller, less wealthy covens could only perform an initiation when they had earned enough money to fund the rebirth. An initiation could only take place under to full moon, and one reborn to each vampire. The smaller covens could manage a handful of rebirths a year.

But the wealthier covens, like Raziel's coven, were large and produced enormous amounts of money.

Every month, under the full moon, the vampires of Raziel's coven had assembled to turn a human. They could double their coven's population in a single night.

But they soon discovered that they were envied for their wealth and numbers, and so were preyed upon. Xavier, the leader of Raziel's coven, divided the coven into two groups; the Nobles, and the Hunters. The vampires that contributed most the coven were given the title of 'Nobles', while the healthiest were trained and named 'Hunters'.

Xavier wanted to bring all of the covens together, but the other covens refused. So Xavier met their refusal with force.

And so the hunters set out to murder members of the other covens, to deminish their numbers.

Deanna plucked a dying leaf from a branch and shredded it in her fingers.

With a sigh, she set off for the Raziel coven's mansion. Her home.

The wind played with her hair, spinning it around her face, and the leaves crackled under her bare feet. She wove through the forest, ducking under the branches of low trees until she reached the edge, where she froze.

At her feet, it's skin grey, and blood smeared across it's chest, lay a vampire.