Deanna glanced around the richly furnished room, as the doors clicked shut behind her, followed by the snap of a lock.

A diamond-studded chandelier hung from the high ceiling, sending shards of light sparkling over the glass coffee table and the black leather lounges. A glass-topped table surrounded by a group of chairs stood placidly to her right.

She strode across the room, stopping in front of the coffee table. She nudged it gently with her foot, testing its weight.

With a sudden burst of fury, she snatched up the table, catapulting it across the room, where it shattered, lodging shards of glass into the wall. The explosion echoed around the room as glass pooled at the base of the wall.

Deanna shoved the lounge back from the wall, slipping her dagger from the double-holster on the outside of her left thigh.

She flung it at the chandelier chain, before ducking behind the lounge as glass and diamonds rained down from above, shaking the room with a roar.

Once certain that all the glass had fallen, she jumped up to survey her work. The metal framework of the chandelier lay twisted in the centre of the room, bleeding expensive decorations onto the torn carpet.

With a smirk, Deanna picked up a chair, testing its weight, before slamming it into the glass-topped table. A thick spiderweb of cracks wove across its surface as a snap like thunder broke out.

That should get some attention.

She slid her gleaming dagger from the cascade of broken glass and hid beside the door.

She held her breath as the door slowly opened.

Deanna lunged at the surveyor without seeing who they were.

She held the dagger firmly against his neck before realizing who he was.

"Blake?" she hissed, her eyes widening. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Coming to see why you were being so loud. What did you do?" he asked, his eyes running over the mess.

She sighed, biting her lip. "Blake, I'm really sorry for this."

"For wha-" he began, before cutting of abruptly.

The base of the dagger handle slammed into his temple, and he crumpled to the floor.

Deanna tried to ignore the blood pooling under the bruised wound.

He'll live, she told herself fiercely. He's a vampire. He'll live.

She pulled open the door and bolted down the hallway, almost colliding with a Hunter.

He frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Umm, yeah," she said, slipping the dagger behind her back. "Do you have any keys?"

His eyes didn't move, but his hand twitched slightly towards his right pocket.

"Wait," he said, eyes narrowing. "Aren't you-?"

She smashed the heel of her hand into his nose, driving it into his brain.

He dropped to the floor with a gasp, unconscious.

She fished his keys out of his pocket, before inspecting them.

"Yamaha YZF-R1," she muttered, setting off for the underground garage.

To call it a garage was an understatement. It more resembled a car park than a garage. Row upon row of black, silver and red cars stretched underneath the mansion.

She headed for the motorcycle section at a steady jog.

A smooth, fully black bike stood under the light, tempting her.

"Oh, yeah," she said with a grin, turning the key in the ignition. Her hand fit perfectly around the throttle, her first two fingers squeezing the brake. She steadied herself on the bike, before slamming her heel onto the kick start.

The motorbike roared to life beneath her, and she grinning, twisting the throttle. The bike jerked smoothly forwards, weaving through the rows to the exit.

The garage doors stood open, allowing the moonlight to stream in.

Deanna revved the engine, laughing as the bike leapt forwards, sending her hair streaming behind her.